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Schoolyard boxing
by hunter

Hey all, it’s me again. Tom, remember? The guy that got his belly beaten inside out by his best friend? Yeah, that guy. Don’t worry, I managed to recover, and I still want to learn to box, even if it’s only so I can get back at Garrett. I have to admit though, when I learned that he boxed I had no idea he’d be as good as he was, heheh. To be honest, Garrett and I have been getting in good-natured fights with one another for as long as we’ve been friends. The fight we’d just had reminded me of one that we’d had in fifth grade, to be honest. The repeated punches to the stomach, the both of us barechested, our stomachs exposed. There are memories there, both good and bad.

So, we were in fifth grade, the both of us. Twelve years old and basically typical pre-teen boys, obsessed with fighting, video games and whatnot. Anyways, one day Garrett challenged me. We did this a lot, one of us challenging the other. We’d agree on a time and place and then meet there and fight. Most of the time it was during sleepovers or days spent at one another’s house, and for the most part it had been relatively even. We’ve still got pictures from those times, taken at the end of fights when one of us was unconscious, slumped over some piece of furniture with our limbs hanging limp, or face-flat on the ground, or lying on our backs, spread-eagled and unconscious. It was when our parents found out about our fights that it had gone two ways. My parents had grounded me for a week, but Garrett’s parents had gotten him enrolled in a youth boxing class on his sixteenth birthday.

This took place before then, about two weeks after our last fight. It was a Friday, and an early release day at that. All of the kids had gone home by this time, and so had all the teachers. Garrett and I lived within walking distance of school, but my dad was supposed to be picking us up. He had told me before I’d left that day that he wouldn’t be there until about half an hour after school let out, so it would be up to us to find a safe way to entertain ourselves until he got there. Garrett and I had gotten the perfect idea. So now here we were, in an isolated little corner of the schoolgrounds. Our shirts were off, piled with our backpacks, shoes, and socks against one of the three walls.

“So,” I said as I looked at Garrett, who stood across from me. “Any rules?”

“No face shots,” he said immediately. “We don’t want our moms and dads to see any bruises.”

“Okay. What else?”

“We go until one of us is knocked out.” Garrett grinned. “Just like always.”

I giggled to myself. “Yep.”

Back then things were a lot more even between us. Since both of us were twelve we had no abs at all; both our stomachs were smooth, soft, and unbroken by any sorts of abs. I had (and still have) a pretty big, oval navel while Garrett’s was a narrow circle. Neither one of us was even really muscular, so it would take a while for us to be able to knock one another out, which we were both fine with. We had half an hour, after all.

We got our fists up, ready to fight, and got within swinging range of one another. I nodded at Garrett, signaling him to start us off. He nodded and smirked at me.

“Okay. One. Two. Three! OOOOOOFFF!”

I admit that I cheated a bit; my fist was already moving by two, and as soon as Garrett had finished saying “Three” it had buried itself in his belly, snugly embedded in the area of his stomach below his navel. Garrett’s reaction was worth it, though. He bent over, his eyes wide and his cheeks puffed out as he doubled over. I grinned at him and laughed.

“Ha ha! How’d that feel, huh? OOOOMPH!” My own breath got driven out of me as I felt Garrett’s fist plow into my belly, his fist fitting neatly inside my navel. It sank in nearly to the wrist, and I was knocked several steps backward as he shoved me back. We both gasped as the fists left our stomachs, but we were back at it immediately. I charged at Garrett, my fist held out straight like a spear to try and impale him on his navel the same way he’d done to me. He was able to dodge out of the way though, and the next think I knew I was letting out a loud WHOOMPH as his fist buried itself wrist-deep in my belly again.

“Poouf?!” That was what I woofed out as my forward momentum pulled Garrett’s fist out of my belly. I managed to stagger to a stop hugging my stomach and gasping as I feel the dent that the punch left in my belly fills back in. I start gagging suddenly as I feel Garrett’s arms wrap around my neck. He’s not strong enough to hold onto my body with his arms and legs, so his legs are still planted firmly on the ground. I manage to swing my elbow back, and the hard joint plants itself firmly in his belly.

“HOOOOMPH!” I feel Garrett’s cheek puff up against mine, and I slam my elbow back twice more in his belly, each hit deepening the crater that the first elbow left.

“HOOOOF! OOOOOUPH!” Gagging and choking Garrett stumbles backward, hugging his belly as he tries not to drool. I charge at him again but he ducks under my fist and runs forward. His head slams into my belly, filling the cavity behind it completely and pinning it to my spine. I’m glad that I didn’t have anything in my stomach at the time because I definitely would have puked. Either way I jackknife around his head, my cheeks inflating hugely before I slide off his head. Now we’re both pretty much immobilized, but since Garrett took his sooner he’s already ready to fight again. He walks over to me as I’m still lying on my back, grinning.

“So,” he asked. “Ready to give uuooooooph?!” His sentence devolved into a whoosh of air as I pistoned my legs upward, my feet burying themselves up to the ankles in his soft belly. The force threw him backwards, and Garrett landed on his back, gasping as I managed to get up, grinning breathlessly at him.

“Are you ready to give up?” As brave as I sounded, I was already winded. Garrett was the same, but neither of us wanted to show weakness to the other. Our bellies by now were starting to redden, but neither of us wanted to quit yet. Besides, we’d only been going a few minutes.

“No way!” Garrett gasped as he stood up. Our bellies were both heaving as we tried to get our air back, but we both advanced on another regardless. We’d both pretty much forgotten the rules by this time; I threw a left hook at Garrett’s head. He ducked under it and clobbered me in the gut with an uppercut, one that dug into the little pooch that my twelve-year-old belly had. As I doubled over and was raised to my tiptoes, with my cheeks puffed up and my eyes wide, Garrett’s fist dug deep into the flesh of the pooch, actually lifting the flesh up and shoving the pooch up into the rest of my belly. I only had seconds to register this before Garrett hit me with an uppercut, his fist digging into the underside of my chin to straighten me up. My eyes were wide as my head snapped upward to look at the sky, but they widened further as I once again felt a fist invade my belly, this time impaling me in the navel once again. I doubled over again, my cheeks having time to puff up before my head was once again sent skyward by another uppercut.

As I stood there, my head back, my belly stuck out, Garrett seized his opportunity. I jerked and convulsed frenziedly as he traced a line of quick punches down my belly, from my upper gut down to my lower belly, below my navel.

“Oof! Oomph! Oof! Oof! Oomph! Oouph!”

Each hit left a crater in my gut, one that quickly filled in. I staggered backwards, my eyes wide as I tried to breathe. Garrett pressed the attack, charging at me to deposit more punches to the belly bank, but I managed to recover quick enough to swing an uppercut into his path. The soft, visceral thud that resulted echoed off of the three walls, and Garrett’s “OOOOOOOOOFFF!” could probably have been heard from my house.

Garrett staggered backwards, his eyes wide as he clutched his belly in agony. I went for him this time, swinging a fist towards his stomach. He swallowed my fist whole, my punch sinking in up to the wrist as it drove him back. Garrett gasped as I grabbed his shoulder, then began gagging as I repeatedly plunged my fist into his soft belly. Garrett gave little hops with each punch, his gagging getting louder as I kept hitting him. Finally he slumped over, gasping weakly, held up by my fist.

“Ready…to…give…up…yet?” I panted, grinning at him. Garrett gasped and gagged and I felt his stomach heave against my fist, until he finally managed to push off of me. He stumbled backward but I went after him, aiming to continue the beating. I threw out a hard right straight aimed at his upper stomach, but he recovered enough to duck under it and plant an elbow firmly in my gut.

“Oooooomph!” I groaned as I slumped over his elbow, laying myself across his shoulders.

WUMP. WUMP.

“Hoooomph! Ooooofff!” I moan as his elbow digs into my stomach twice more. Garrett then pulled his elbow out of my belly, replacing it with his fist.

SPLAT.

“OOOOOOOOOFFF!” I bend over, my cheeks puffing out hugely as I felt Garrett’s fist impale my belly, pinning my navel to my spine. I stood there, gagging behind my puffed cheeks, as he pulled his fist out and then began ramming one punch after another into my belly. I convulsed frenziedly again as his punches savaged my guts, and I swear he was leaving fist prints on my intestines as his fists repeatedly plunge into my belly.

“OOF! OOF! OOF! OOF! OOF! OOF!” Garrett’s punches drove me backwards across the grass until I felt my back hit the wall. Garrett continued punching, and in my twelve-year-old mind I could swear his fists were hitting the wall behind me through my belly flesh as I kept jerking as his fists went in and out of my gut. Finally he swung his fist in an uppercut, slamming it into my belly hard enough to lift me to my tiptoes as I doubled over his fist.

“HOOOOOOOOUUUUUGH!” I bellow as I feel his fist sink in farther than it had ever before. Garrett gently pulls his fist out of my belly, leaving me heaving and gasping for air as I scrabble at the wall.

“Hehe, looks like I’m gonna win!” Garrett said, rubbing his hands together as he closed in to put me away. He put his hands on my shoulders, grinning at me. I manage to grin back before shoving my knee upward, impaling his belly on it.

“HOOOOOMPH!” Garrett groaned as he was lifted slightly off of his feet. He folded around my knee like a soft towel, gasping as his feet hit the ground. Garrett wheezed as I slapped his hands off of my shoulders and put my hands on his, before depositing another knee into his belly. Then followed another, and another, and another, driving him back across the lot until his back hit the wall.

“OOMPH! OOF! HOOMPH! HOOUFF! HOOG! OOG! BLUGH! BLEGUH!” Garrett gargled as I finally drove his back against the wall. I made to raise my knee in order to bury it in his stomach again, but Garrett took a page out of my book and swung his fist forward, burying it in my belly.

“BLUUUUUUUUGH!” I gargle as I’m sent staggering backwards, wheezing loudly. I finally manage to stagger over to the opposite wall, getting my breath back after Garrett squashed my gut with his punch. I look over at him as my belly heaves, trying to get my breath back. Both of our stomachs are red and bruised by now, fist prints and bruises scattered all across it. But still, despite the pain, neither of us are willing to give up. Garrett looks at me, and I look at him. Our fists clench and we charge at one another.

SPLAT. SQUISH.

I still feel that hit sometimes. Our fists had hit one another’s bellies just milliseconds apart as we buried them in one another’s navels. Mine made Garrett’s disappear as his fit neatly inside mine.

“HOOOOOOOGH!”

“OOOOOOUUMPH!”

We stand there for a few seconds, both of us immobilized by the battering rams that had just crushed our bellies. We each give loud gags of agony as our fists are pulled out of one another’s guts, both of us staggering backward, hugging our stomachs in breathless agony. We stay like that for what seems like hours, but it’s only a few minutes as we get our breath back, finally looking back up at one another.

“Tom? Garrett? You guys here?”

And there was Dad.

“O-over here, Dad,” I call turning to him. He knew about our fights, so I wasn’t about to worry about him freaking out about how we looked. My dad came around the corner, smiling and chuckling as he saw us.

“Fighting again?” he asked as he walked towards us.

“Yeah,” Garrett replied.

“How’d it go this time? Looks like a draw.” My dad squatted in front of us, smiling. I smile back and nod.

“Yeah. Pretty close.”

“Alright, then. You think you can put this on hold so that we can go home?”

“But we’re not done yet!” Garrett said. “We agreed to both go until one of us was knocked out?”

“Did you now?” My dad asked, his eyes filling with concern. “Well, let’s see if we can fix that.”

Garrett and I didn’t even have time to react.

SPLAT. SPLAT.

Neither of us had expected what my dad had just done. Heck, we didn’t even know what he’d done until we both doubled over, allowing us to see what he’d done. He’d hit us both in the stomach, his muscular forearms propelling his fists into our guts. His fists had been swallowed by our soft bellies, sinking in up to the wrists. The both of us jerked as he pulled his fist out. That had been the final straw. We each fell to our knees, wheezing weakly before we fell forward, flat onto our faces. My dad chuckled as he picked our bodies up, slinging us over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

We woke up several hours later in my bedroom at home. Garrett and I were lying side by side on my bed, and my dad was watching us from a chair. He chuckled as we woke up, the pain in our stomachs making us groan loudly. “You two have fun today?”

“You could have just…let us finish, Dad…” I groan as I look up at him. Garrett and I scooted to the foot of the bed and stood up, looking at my dad as he chuckles again.

“I know, I know,” he says, getting up from his chair. “But your mom wanted us home by a certain time. You’re lucky she’s not here or she would have been asking all sorts of questions and you both would have been grounded for a month. But anyways it’s bedtime and with the state your stomachs are in I doubt that you’ll be able to eat anything. And so…”

SPLAT. SPLAT.

“WHOOOOOOOOOOMPH!”

The sound came as my dad once again made our bellies swallow his fists, the joint sound of air rushing from our bodies rising in pitch as he lifted us about two feet off the floor and back onto the bed, on our backs. We didn’t even feel our backs hit the bed, didn’t feel my dad pull his fists out of our guts. We were unconscious again, and would be until the next morning.