Nice story. Maybe you could do a follow up where you challenge the waiter to a rematch in a boxing gym and get in the ring with him. That would be hot!
A little story I wrote a while ago. You and a friend decide to treat yourselves to a nice dinner one night. Unfortunately, an ill-placed foot ends up tripping a waiter, leaving you with the very real possibility of getting a knuckle sandwich for dinner!
The tray made a loud bang when it hit the floor, the sound of shattering plates and glasses echoing around the space and drawing the eye of every single person in the establishment. While thankfully the plates and glasses had been empty as the residue of a cleared table, the mess was still considerate, and the waiter’s anger even more so.
“Son of a bitch!” the lean yet still fairly muscular server said as he looked down at the mess, then over at the table to his right. You and I are sitting their shocked, my extended leg still out there. I sheepishly pulled it in, though it’s too late as the waiter has seen it and storms over to the table.
“Do you have any idea how many plates you just broke?!” he yelled. “Those come out of my pay, you know!”
“S-sorry!” I say, wincing. “It was an accident!”
“Hey, lay off, buddy,” you say, standing up and facing the waiter. “It’s a few plates, and he said he was sorry! We can pay for them if you want to.”
“Oh we’re way past that!” the waiter growls, undoing his apron and throwing it on the floor. “You guys are really gonna get it now!”
“Okay, fine!” I say, getting out of my own chair. “Go and get the manager then, we’ll wait for youuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUFFFF!” All the air that was left in my lungs suddenly left them rapidly, inflating my cheeks and widening my eyes as I felt a big weight sink deep into my stomach. My head droops down, my eyes widening even more as I see that the waiter’s fist is buried in my belly, sucking my shirt into my gut along with it. I stagger backwards, bending over and wheezing as I feel my intestines roil from the punch.
“Hey!” you exclaim as you walk forward. “You cant do tha-ugh! Guh! Gah!” Your own exclamation is cut off as the waiter’s fist thumps into your chin, knocking your head upward. Almost as soon as it comes back down it snaps backward twice, some drool flying from your mouth as the waiter pops you in the face with two jabs, one your left cheek while the other tags your right.
“I’m sick and tired of people like you guys treating us like dirt!” the waiter said before he turned and slugged me in the jaw. My head turns to the side, more drool spraying as my cheek gets rolled up and I stagger. “I hope you guys liked your meal ‘cuz you’re gonna be tasting it again!” He turns back to you, crouching low and driving a blow into your belly.
“Oooooooooofff!” You jackknife slightly around his fist as it buries into your gut, your rump snapping backward slightly. Still crouching low the waiter continues to launch jab after jab and punch after punch into your gut. You start to jerk and hop around, your cheeks puffing up over and over again as you let out a rhythmic “Oof! Oof! Oof! Oof! Oof! Oof! Oof! Oof!” noise, one sound coming with each punch in your belly.
I can’t see you in pain like that, and get up, advancing on the waiter. “Hey! Pick on someone youOOUF!” My taunt is cut off as he buries his elbow in my belly, my cheeks puffing once again.
“Oh, you’re still up?” the waiter asks, leaving off his belly beating and turning to me. I can see your face, still winded and now fairly woozy, as he advances on me, his fists up. “I can fix that!” I try and raise my own fists in a boxing pose, but too late.
Whack!
“Guh!”
Whop!
“Ugh!”
Crack! Crack! Smack!
“Oof! Ugh! Ow!”
Now I’m the one getting worked over, my cheeks and jaw and chin being popped again and again by the waiter’s surprisingly quick fists. My head snaps backward with each punch, my eyes already starting to spin in their sockets as the waiter drives me back across the room, punching me in the face again and again as I start to stagger around. Finally…
POW!
I go spinning as the waiter slugs me in the face and plop my other cheek against a window, flattening it out into a pink pancake. With a loud squeaking noise I start to slide down it, smushing my cheek up even more before I’m finally able to pull myself off. I can hear the sounds of fists impacting flesh and your own sounds of pain, groans, yeeps, eeps, and yelps echo around the restaurant.
As I finally focus on you both, you’re still standing, but you’re quite clearly out of it, your body swaying and your eyes half-open and glassy and your mouth hanging open stupidly; you’d clearly taken quite a beating. As I watch the waiter winds up and slams an uppercut right into your chin. You make a loud “Blagh!” noise as you’re lifted off of your feet and flop backwards onto the table, your bruised belly facing the restaurant ceiling as you lie there. I see your body, specifically your feet, twitch a bit before going completely limp. I stagger forward, seeing the waiter turn around too late.
POW! His punch uppercuts me just as it did you, bringing me to my tiptoes before I fall back on the flats of my soles. Knocked for a loop I’m helpless as the waiter bends low and starts punching me in the belly again and again. I jerk and twitch just like you did as the waiter’s fists beat a tattoo on my belly, creating short-lived craters in my belly flesh. I drape over him, my chin on his shoulder as he slings uppercuts into my stomach over and over again. Finally he dogwalks me over to the table that you’re slung over, pushing me backward into a similar position that you’d been in. I stand there, swaying woozily, just as you did, before once again a hook hits my jaw with a loud POW!
I spin this time, all consciousness leaving me as I flop forward, draping myself over the table right next to your own comatose body, my fingers twitching a bit before falling still.
“Yeah, I’ll get the manager,” the waiter growled. “You two can meet him in the parking lot when we discuss paying for all this stuff!” With that he goes off to fetch the manager, while everyone else goes back to their eating. A few applaud the waiter as he walks off, some laughing at our ridiculous poses. We’d wake up later after the restaurant closed, the manager meeting us on our awakening and arranging for our paying for the plates and glasses we smashed. The waiter that had worked us both over wouldn’t be punished, however; the staff after the work day had ended had gotten a good laugh out of the restaurant’s security footage of us being beaten up.
We weren’t banned from the restaurant, but the manager did invite us to come back anytime…likely for the prospect of us once again getting beaten up.
boxtpntx (0)
25/2/2019 15:14Nice story. Maybe you could do a follow up where you challenge the waiter to a rematch in a boxing gym and get in the ring with him. That would be hot!
Gutboxer (48)
22/2/2019 13:41Cool liked the gut slugging!
Taren23 (0 )
22/2/2019 00:53A little story I wrote a while ago. You and a friend decide to treat yourselves to a nice dinner one night. Unfortunately, an ill-placed foot ends up tripping a waiter, leaving you with the very real possibility of getting a knuckle sandwich for dinner!
The tray made a loud bang when it hit the floor, the sound of shattering plates and glasses echoing around the space and drawing the eye of every single person in the establishment. While thankfully the plates and glasses had been empty as the residue of a cleared table, the mess was still considerate, and the waiter’s anger even more so.
“Son of a bitch!” the lean yet still fairly muscular server said as he looked down at the mess, then over at the table to his right. You and I are sitting their shocked, my extended leg still out there. I sheepishly pulled it in, though it’s too late as the waiter has seen it and storms over to the table.
“Do you have any idea how many plates you just broke?!” he yelled. “Those come out of my pay, you know!”
“S-sorry!” I say, wincing. “It was an accident!”
“Hey, lay off, buddy,” you say, standing up and facing the waiter. “It’s a few plates, and he said he was sorry! We can pay for them if you want to.”
“Oh we’re way past that!” the waiter growls, undoing his apron and throwing it on the floor. “You guys are really gonna get it now!”
“Okay, fine!” I say, getting out of my own chair. “Go and get the manager then, we’ll wait for youuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUFFFF!” All the air that was left in my lungs suddenly left them rapidly, inflating my cheeks and widening my eyes as I felt a big weight sink deep into my stomach. My head droops down, my eyes widening even more as I see that the waiter’s fist is buried in my belly, sucking my shirt into my gut along with it. I stagger backwards, bending over and wheezing as I feel my intestines roil from the punch.
“Hey!” you exclaim as you walk forward. “You cant do tha-ugh! Guh! Gah!” Your own exclamation is cut off as the waiter’s fist thumps into your chin, knocking your head upward. Almost as soon as it comes back down it snaps backward twice, some drool flying from your mouth as the waiter pops you in the face with two jabs, one your left cheek while the other tags your right.
“I’m sick and tired of people like you guys treating us like dirt!” the waiter said before he turned and slugged me in the jaw. My head turns to the side, more drool spraying as my cheek gets rolled up and I stagger. “I hope you guys liked your meal ‘cuz you’re gonna be tasting it again!” He turns back to you, crouching low and driving a blow into your belly.
“Oooooooooofff!” You jackknife slightly around his fist as it buries into your gut, your rump snapping backward slightly. Still crouching low the waiter continues to launch jab after jab and punch after punch into your gut. You start to jerk and hop around, your cheeks puffing up over and over again as you let out a rhythmic “Oof! Oof! Oof! Oof! Oof! Oof! Oof! Oof!” noise, one sound coming with each punch in your belly.
I can’t see you in pain like that, and get up, advancing on the waiter. “Hey! Pick on someone youOOUF!” My taunt is cut off as he buries his elbow in my belly, my cheeks puffing once again.
“Oh, you’re still up?” the waiter asks, leaving off his belly beating and turning to me. I can see your face, still winded and now fairly woozy, as he advances on me, his fists up. “I can fix that!” I try and raise my own fists in a boxing pose, but too late.
Whack!
“Guh!”
Whop!
“Ugh!”
Crack! Crack! Smack!
“Oof! Ugh! Ow!”
Now I’m the one getting worked over, my cheeks and jaw and chin being popped again and again by the waiter’s surprisingly quick fists. My head snaps backward with each punch, my eyes already starting to spin in their sockets as the waiter drives me back across the room, punching me in the face again and again as I start to stagger around. Finally…
POW!
I go spinning as the waiter slugs me in the face and plop my other cheek against a window, flattening it out into a pink pancake. With a loud squeaking noise I start to slide down it, smushing my cheek up even more before I’m finally able to pull myself off. I can hear the sounds of fists impacting flesh and your own sounds of pain, groans, yeeps, eeps, and yelps echo around the restaurant.
As I finally focus on you both, you’re still standing, but you’re quite clearly out of it, your body swaying and your eyes half-open and glassy and your mouth hanging open stupidly; you’d clearly taken quite a beating. As I watch the waiter winds up and slams an uppercut right into your chin. You make a loud “Blagh!” noise as you’re lifted off of your feet and flop backwards onto the table, your bruised belly facing the restaurant ceiling as you lie there. I see your body, specifically your feet, twitch a bit before going completely limp. I stagger forward, seeing the waiter turn around too late.
POW! His punch uppercuts me just as it did you, bringing me to my tiptoes before I fall back on the flats of my soles. Knocked for a loop I’m helpless as the waiter bends low and starts punching me in the belly again and again. I jerk and twitch just like you did as the waiter’s fists beat a tattoo on my belly, creating short-lived craters in my belly flesh. I drape over him, my chin on his shoulder as he slings uppercuts into my stomach over and over again. Finally he dogwalks me over to the table that you’re slung over, pushing me backward into a similar position that you’d been in. I stand there, swaying woozily, just as you did, before once again a hook hits my jaw with a loud POW!
I spin this time, all consciousness leaving me as I flop forward, draping myself over the table right next to your own comatose body, my fingers twitching a bit before falling still.
“Yeah, I’ll get the manager,” the waiter growled. “You two can meet him in the parking lot when we discuss paying for all this stuff!” With that he goes off to fetch the manager, while everyone else goes back to their eating. A few applaud the waiter as he walks off, some laughing at our ridiculous poses. We’d wake up later after the restaurant closed, the manager meeting us on our awakening and arranging for our paying for the plates and glasses we smashed. The waiter that had worked us both over wouldn’t be punished, however; the staff after the work day had ended had gotten a good laugh out of the restaurant’s security footage of us being beaten up.
We weren’t banned from the restaurant, but the manager did invite us to come back anytime…likely for the prospect of us once again getting beaten up.
bellypunchee52 (0)
26/2/2019 17:17(em resposta à...)
Where did that first punch into your belly go. Below the navel or above in the stomach
solar (1)
24/2/2019 05:18(em resposta à...)
and that security footage would have found its way to utube I am sure...
muscldestrctn (2)
23/2/2019 05:31(em resposta à...)
Great story, made me hard. I liked how the waiter went back and forth between the two of you, not allowing either of you to mount and offense!