Series: Shorts series. Shorts are short one off stories done by request of the person generally in the story. Meaning, they will be self contained even if they have characters from other stories. Good for when you are looking for a quick fight that won't hurt your eyes reading for a long time.
Socials/Tip Jar: linktr.ee/TheCelticFire
Sora AI Video: 1
In any male social circle, whether it's among office workers, bar buddies, gym rats, or late-night gaming squads, there’s always a kind of unspoken hierarchy. It doesn’t have to be macho or alpha-driven, or about blood sweat and muscle. Sometimes it’s about skill, like who pulls the most clutch wins in War-zone or who leads the raid party with the cleanest strategy. Sometimes it's even about who knows the most obscure movie quotes or who can fix a broken graphics card in five minutes flat. But no matter what metric it's built on, there’s a pecking order. One guy always ends up being the “top dog” and the others fall into place beneath, either content or quietly competing.
It's just a male thing.
Yet from time to time, that order gets... lets say blurry. Someone challenges the established setup, intentionally or not. Ego gets bruised. Tensions brew. And when logic and banter stop working, some guys feel the need to settle things in more... physical ways.
That’s exactly how this bizarre little showdown started.
Two of the smartest, quick thinking, nerdiest dudes in their circle. Both legendary in their gaming community. Both proud of their strategic minds and lightning thumbs. But only one could be top nerd. Only one could have the right to rule over them all. So, naturally when all else failed, they ditched the keyboards and controllers... and settled it with their fists. Or at least they tried to. Neither had much muscle, or muscle at all. Neither had a history of violence, in real life combat, or the ability to properly throw a punch. But that didn't matter, when two males made up their minds, brains took a back seat.
And the Great Nerd Fight began.
The basement was cramped, the carpet thin and worn, and the only light came from a flickering overhead bulb, but to these two, it may as well have been an arena. Without a word, both men pulled off their shirts. They had seen enough action movies to know that real fights didn’t happen fully clothed. There was something about bare chests, no matter how skinny or underwhelming, that made it feel official. Primal. Ritualistic, even.
First was Tae-hyun. He was lean, smooth-skinned, not a trace of body hair on his chest or arms, not from shaving, like some men did to show off definition, but simply because there was none to begin with. Genetics had gifted him a clean canvas. Born in South Korea, he carried himself with a subtle precision, controlled, careful, always composed, even now. Tae-hyun adjusted the frame of his shoulders, the overhead light catching on the slight sheen of sweat forming along his collarbone. He thought about tugging off his glasses but then decided against it. He wanted to see after all.
He was ready.
His opponent in this battle would be Faisal. Faisal stepped forward with quiet confidence, his wiry frame betraying none of the certainty in his stride. Unlike his smooth skinned friend, Faisal’s body was coated in a thick layer of hair. His chest, arms, even the tops of his shoulders were all covered, giving him a rugged look that clashed with his lack of muscle. But Faisal didn’t rely on strength. He didn’t need to. His power came from his mind. An expert in strategy games, chess, StarCraft, war sims, he prided himself on thinking five moves ahead. He had beaten guys twice his size by knowing exactly when to bait, when to feint, and when to strike. Well online at least... but he was ready.
Without a word, it began.
… And then came the gut work.
The first punch sank into Tae-hyun’s stomach with a low, wet thud. He grunted, folding just slightly, eyes going wide behind fogged-up glasses. Then came another. And another. The hits weren’t clean. They weren’t trained. But they were relentless. Each one sank into his soft belly like fists into raw dough, flattening flesh, stealing breath, making his knees tremble. He tried to step back, but the wall of Faisal’s determination closed in.
Thud.
Another to the gut.
Thud.
Lower this time, under the navel.
Thud.
Right into the center, where the muscles tried and failed to tighten in time.
Each punch left Tae-hyun gasping, mouth open but speechless, his breath punched out of him over and over. He wasn’t crying, but his body was starting to forget how to breathe between the hits. This wasn't going well for Tae...
Thud.
He doubled again, arms twitching like they wanted to protect, but couldn’t decide where or how.
Thud.
His glasses slipped halfway down his nose.
Thud.
His vision blurred, not from the impact, but from the rising panic in his lungs.
Thud.
Still, Faisal didn’t stop. Weak or not, the barrage kept coming. And Tae-hyun, belly red and trembling, could do nothing but take it.
Faisal’s punches didn’t stop, couldn't stop. His knuckles ached, his arms burned, his breathing grew more ragged with every swing. But still, he kept going. Driven not by strength, but by a growing confidence… and something meaner, something more personal. Something only men would understand. Even better, Tae-hyun’s stomach was starting to show the damage. Red blotches bloomed across his stomach, angry and swollen, each one a trophy to Faisal’s stubborn assault. The skin around Tae’s belly button was flushed and trembling, twitching every time Faisal’s fist landed. The center of his stomach had a pinkish bruise forming in the shape of knuckles, and the edges of his abdomen were beginning to tighten involuntarily, like his body was bracing for hits even before they came. Faisal saw it all. Saw Tae-hyun’s jaw tense with each punch, saw the winces, the way his legs shifted uncertainly, knees wobbling as he struggled to stay upright. And it made him grin. He paused just a second, panting now, sweat beginning to bead across his forehead, and looked down at his handiwork. Tae-hyun was hunched forward slightly, breathing shallow, face pale.
Faisal took a deep breath, then he threw another punch. Weak, but direct. Right in the gut. Tae-hyun folded with a grunt. Faisal could get use to that noise...
Another Thud.
Same spot. A sharp, twisting jab.
Another.
This one thudded deep into the already bruised flesh, drawing a sound out of Tae that was half-gasp, half-groan.
With deep heavy breaths, Faisal’s form was crumbling, his shoulders drooping now with fatigue, but he didn’t care. Every punch he landed was a little reward, a little proof that he was winning. He didn’t need to drop Tae-hyun to the floor… just to hurt him. Just enough to show him that being clever didn’t mean you couldn’t suffer. Just a bit more would do it...
Tae-hyun stumbled back, groaning, both arms folded protectively over his stomach. Every breath was a struggle. His abdomen burned, marked with angry red welts from Faisal’s earlier barrage. His head was swimming, his legs shaky, but he wasn’t out. He couldn't be out yet, this was a matter of respect! Sure any smart, logical person would have taken the fall by now. Called it. Admitted defeat. But Tae-hyun had something deeper than logic. Pride. Spite. The sting of humiliation tightening in his chest like a second heartbeat. No, he refused to fall. He blinked sweat out of his eyes, adjusted his slipping glasses with the back of his hand, and forced himself upright. He swayed on his feet for a second, but then something hardened in his face. His jaw locked. His stomach clenched. A line had been crossed, and he wasn’t going to take another step backward.
Faisal, panting hard and now visibly exhausted, didn’t notice the shift in Tae’s posture. He moved in with the same sloppy rhythm he’d been using for the last few minutes, hoping to finish what he started. But his arms were heavy now, his hands slow, his body soaked with sweat and trembling from overexertion.
That’s when Tae struck.
It started as a slap, desperate and clumsy, but it cracked against Faisal’s cheek, snapping his head to the side and disorienting him just enough. Before Faisal could even blink, Tae shoved him hard with both hands, catching him off balance. The bigger boy stumbled sideways with a grunt, one foot slipping awkwardly on the floor. That's when Tae launched.
A punch to the ribs. Tight, compact, and precise. Faisal winced.
Another strike, faster, square into the center of his gut. Faisal’s whole body flinched inward.
The rhythm had changed. Tae wasn’t throwing random shots anymore. He was locked in. Focused. Cold. He stepped in closer and drove a third punch deep into Faisal’s stomach. The sound it made was wet and thick, like a fist sinking into overripe fruit. Faisal's mouth opened but no sound came out, just a hollow exhale as the wind was blasted from his lungs.
Tae didn’t let up.
Another punch.
Then another.
Each one hammered straight into Faisal’s gut. Not wild, not frantic. Deliberate. Vicious.
The sixth one made Faisal stagger.
The seventh made him double over.
The eighth made him drop to one knee.
Tae grabbed him by the hair and yanked him back up, not screaming, not gloating, just furious in silence, and then landed three more punches in rapid succession. Each one found the same spot, the same soft target, over and over. By now Faisal’s abdomen was twitching with every hit, his body trying to curl up, to flee from the punishment it couldn’t stop. A twelfth blow slammed in even deeper, and this time Faisal’s eyes rolled up for a second. His lips parted in a breathless gasp. Tae took a step back, stared down at him, fists still trembling. Then, with a small grunt of effort, he took one last step forward and drove a final, crushing punch into the center of Faisal’s stomach, so deep it looked like it caved in.
Faisal crumpled.
No cries. No protest. Just the sound of air failing to enter lungs, and a slow, quiet collapse to the mat.
Faisal lay on the mat, curled slightly, face slack with shock. His hands hovered uselessly near his stomach, trembling but not doing anything to protect himself. He couldn’t. His body wouldn’t listen. Breath came in shallow, broken gasps. His mind felt slow, cloudy, like he was underwater. It should have been over. But Tae didn’t walk away, didn't end it like he should have. Instead, he stood over Faisal, chest rising and falling in ragged heaves. His glasses had slid down the bridge of his nose. Sweat clung to his skin, glinting under the overhead light. His soft frame shook, not from exhaustion, but something else. A fire had been lit. Something ugly. And it wasn’t burning out. He looked down at Faisal like a man seeing his enemy, not his friend.
And then, without a word, Tae flexed.
It wasn’t impressive, again he had no real muscle to show, but the gesture was mocking, mean, triumphant. His narrow chest puffed out, arms raised in the most awkward display of dominance imaginable. Then he dropped to one knee beside Faisal, and that was when it became clear this fight was no longer about points or pride.
It was about punishment.
Tae’s fist sank into Faisal’s stomach with a sickening thump. Faisal let out a hoarse grunt, half a breath, half a sob. Another punch. Deeper this time. Tae drove it in with more weight, using gravity, both knees planted for better leverage.
“Guhhh—”
The sound dragged out of Faisal’s throat as his body jerked. Another blow. And another. More. So many more. Each punch landed lower, deeper, more deliberate. Soft flesh rippled under the assault. There was no muscle to absorb the impact, just untrained belly and bruised guts, taking every ounce of Tae’s pent-up frustration.
Whump.
Thud.
Thump.
Faisal’s legs kicked once, weakly, then stilled. His hands fluttered at Tae’s arm, but had no strength to stop him.
“Urrrgh… guh—stop…”
But Tae didn’t even hear him. Or if he did, it didn’t matter anymore. Instead, he kept going.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Each punch forced a noise out of Faisal, a grunt, a wheeze, a choked moan. The sounds echoed across the room, awkward and raw. As the punches came, connected, sunk in and did damage, something was changing behind Tae’s tired eyes. He should’ve been spent by now, but each punch made him feel more. More powerful. More awake. More in control. He didn’t know that each blow was changing Faisal, too. With every sickening impact, Faisal felt something in himself break, not physically, but belief. The idea that he could outsmart this, that strategy could carry him, that this was just a game. Now it felt personal. Cruel. He wasn’t a challenger anymore.
He was a target.
But even as pain tore through his abdomen, something burned beneath it. Shame, then helplessness… and then something else.
Anger.
It started low, in the pit of his gut, right where Tae kept driving his fists again, and it grew with every punch. Faisal’s body groaned and buckled, but deep in his chest, something was stirring. And Tae didn’t see it coming.He was too busy pounding his fists into Faisal’s stomach, breathing hard, face twisted in a mix of pain and satisfaction, lost in the rhythm of his own breaking point.
Faisal’s breath rattled in his chest, pain flaring with every shallow inhale. His gut was a ruined mess of throbbing muscle and angry nerves, his stomach scorched from the inside out. He couldn’t even sit up properly, his body outright refused, but some primal reflex kicked in.
He struck.
Still on his knees, he drove his fist upward into Tae’s soft belly. It wasn’t a strong punch. Barely more than a jab. But it hit it's mark. Tae flinched anyway. Faisal blinked, surprised it connected at all, but the look on Tae’s face was undeniable. His eyes squeezed shut, jaw tightening, hands hovering too late over his stomach. This was his chance, probably his only chance...
Faisal threw another.
Then another.
Still sloppy, still desperate, but all of them found their target. Tae’s gut, red and tender from before, took every hit like it was new. He grunted, it was low, breathless. But it was good! Faisal kept going, one knee planted now, the other foot forward for balance. His body screamed, but he didn’t stop. Pain meant nothing. Pride was gone. Only stubborn rage remained.
Another fist slammed into Tae’s stomach. Then another.
Thump.
Whump.
Smack.
Despite the screaming protests of his body, he kept going. Sure Faisal stayed down, on his knees, bent forward, his hair damp with sweat and breath ragged, but his fists kept moving.
Another punch.
Then another.
Then another.
Thump.
Whump.
Smack.
All to Tae’s gut. Always the gut. Each fist thudded into soft, sore flesh, sinking in with a sickening give that Faisal felt all the way through his wrist. He didn’t have power behind them, his arms were rubber, his shoulders on fire, but he had rhythm. He had grit. He wanted to hurt someone now.
Tchff.
Thmp.
Thuck.
Tae’s body twitched with each hit, curling in and trembling, his breath hitching in uneven gasps. His stomach jerked under every punch, the skin already marked with red, now shifting into deep bruises.
Thud.
Then again.
Smack.
Tae grunted, loud and raw, no longer able to muffle it. He doubled over more, arms barely able to shield anything. Faisal’s knuckles sank deep into the center of his belly, again and again, working the same tender target. Over and over. His strikes weren’t clean, weren’t sharp, but they landed. They hurt. Tae’s belly pulsed involuntarily under the barrage, a low groan slipping out of him after each one.
Whuff.
“Hnng!”
“Ghh—!”
Still on his knees, Faisal threw another. Then two in quick succession.
Left—thunk.
Right—smack.
Then another.
And another.
And another.
He could feel Tae’s body start to give, like it had reached some edge neither of them could see. But Faisal didn’t think about that. He didn’t think at all. He just kept punching. Because this was all he had left. He lost himself to that primal wild side all men had, and he wouldn't come back till he won.
Still on his knees, he drove another punch deep into Tae’s stomach.
Thud.
Tae let out a sharp, wheezing cough, his body convulsing as the blow sank in, deep and punishing. But Faisal wasn’t done. He planted one foot on the mat. Then the other. And with each inch he rose, his punches came harder, faster.
A punch—thump—square in the gut, folding Tae, a shove from Faisal the only thing straighten him up.
Then another—smack—low, just above the waistband, Tae’s hips twitching backward from the hit.
Then a third—crack—just beneath the ribs, knocking all breath from Tae's lungs in a hoarse groan.
Faisal was standing now. Breathing hard. Alive in a way he hadn’t felt in years. His fists blurred, they were still hungry. Very hungry.
Tuhmp.
Twhap.
Buhmm.
Each hit forced Tae’s body to jolt inward, as though trying to retreat from the pain but having nowhere left to go. His arms hung useless. His legs began to tremble. He couldn't suck in air fast enough between the blows, there wasn’t time.Faisal's fist slammed into his midsection again, and again, and again.
Tae's head rolled, eyes glassy. His knees wobbled.
His stomach, red and bruised and tender, pulsed with each impact.
Every punch sank in deep. Too deep.
Whump! — Tae let out a guttural groan.
Thud! — His body folded forward.
Crack! — He dropped to one knee.
But Faisal wasn’t done.
He stepped forward, looming now, mouth open with heavy breaths, eyes never blinking. He drove another punch into Tae’s core, lifting him just slightly from the ground with the sheer force of it. Tae gagged, a wet, ugly sound bubbling up from his throat.
He couldn’t cry out anymore, his body couldn’t spare the breath.
He stayed kneeling, stomach destroyed, mouth hanging open, arms limp at his sides.
Then Tae just collapsed. His body was done, his belly was done, anything he had or ever had, was literally punched out of him.
“I give,” Tae-hyun mumbled, barely audible.
Faisal, still catching his breath, stood over him. Pale, sweaty, heaving… and victorious. For a moment, he considered continuing, giving him the same treatment Faisal had gotten. But no, it was over, he was clearly the winner. With all the dignity his noodle arms could muster, he raised both fists and flexed. It wasn’t much.
But today, it was enough. Today the pecking order was reestablished and would not be challenged for some time to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment