CelticFire's blog

Dark World: Rich Boy gets his bill

Notes:

Story done by request
Imagine if you will, another world and another life. A world where you were wildly (and seemingly) successful in all things and had a ego to match. Money, women, sex, anything you wanted, you had. What you didn't have, you would buy or ruin to get.

Until one day you messed with the wrong couple...

From the day he was born, Dennis was a man who knew what he wanted, and always got it. He didn't care who he had to outmaneuver, who he had to lie to, cheat to or even use some muscle on. No, Dennis was the top of the world and anyone who didn't know it, soon would. He was a grade AAA perfect specimen of alpha manhood. Today, he demonstrated this simple undeniable fact by being surrounded by only the finest women, enjoying the best alcohol money could buy, and all of course, in a private booth in some high-class night club. The name of the place was unimportant, just as long as people saw him, admired him, and worshiped at his altar. After all in this world, a world that never really felt right, you had to be strong, strong or dead. So he did what he had to do, and he did it well. He was king of his particular hill, and he knew it.

"Ohhhhh fuck yeah."

Read the rest here: https://celticfirefights.blogspot.com/2020/03/dark-world-rich-boy-gets-his-bill.html

I can do this.

Steam fogged the sides of the mirror, but did not distort the image.

I can’t be afraid.

He saw himself, in a old beaten undershirt he loved, and a pair of red gloves.

Fear is the mind killer…

He knew he shouldn’t be afraid, they never were.

I must not, I will not fear….

He was different now, a far cry from the boy who was picked on and beaten.

I accepted this fight, and now I must finish it.

Much had changed since that day, far more than just his now full and seasoned face.

I am strong, I am a man.

Read the rest here: https://celticfirefights.blogspot.com/2020/02/jack-story-of-young-fighter-p2.html

“OOoof”

Jack’s day hadn’t started well. He had suffered abuse at work from both customers and his douche of a boss alike. In short, he was done with this day and wanted nothing more with humanity. After a long and painful ten-hour shift, he wanted to kick back a few beers and just relax. However, these guys seemed to have... other plans. He didn’t know exactly what happened, but before he knew it, three guys had grabbed him and drugged him outside. They didn’t even say why before the first fist flew. A hard jab to his face took him by surprise and snapped his head back. Another quickly followed, busting his nose and forcing it to bleed. Jack could taste his own blood but had no time to process it. Another hard cross to his ribs shocked him and stunned him stupid. Another series of jabs pushed him back against a wall, when, after a taunt about doing what they want, they began to work over his stomach. A strong fist, one far bigger than his own and seemingly made of rock, plowed into him again and again, shaking him and steadily increasing the need to throw up. A stiff uppercut came and connected with the upper portion of his stomach area, forcing out the air and having his knees go weak. He was relieved when the men allowed him to double over and fall to the ground. Hopefully, this meant the fight was over, and they would leave him be.

Read more at: https://celticfirefights.blogspot.com/2020/02/jack-story-of-young-fighter-p1.html

The Celtic Fighter, or just Celtic as many shortened it to, sat in the locker room with his head against the wall. It had been a little over two months since the cowardly but brutal attack from Aki. He needed this time to recover from bruised ribs, messed up face, and nearly (read totally) destroyed adnominal wall. Shifting his weight he placed a hand on his chest, then stomach. The pain had finally stopped, the burning had gone out, but the memory would live on. The guys at the gym, for all their hyper-masculine attitudes, were sympathetic to him, knowing the devious of the situation. It wasn’t just a normal fight he had; the boy had cheated, and with brass knuckles no less. Sure, he won in the end, but at a VERY high price. But now? Now he was back in the game, he was fit and ready for the world. He had hit the gym for several days before the first offer for a fight came in. While the thrill of the fight was screaming back inside of him, for once fighting was in your blood, it never really left, he was still nervous. What if he had had a misstep? What if he had a flashback in the middle of a fight? One false move and he knew he would never fight again.

To say he was left shaken from the event would be an understatement.

Read the rest here: https://celticfirefights.blogspot.com/2020/01/power-isnt-everything-dantes-story.html

It wouldn’t nor shouldn't have taken Celtic that long to get ready, but he needed this time, any time really, to recover. With his adrenaline starting to wear off, the true nature of the pain inflicted upon him cam roaring back. Even worse, the previous cowardly attack had taken its toll, more so than he was willing to admit. His chest heaved with pain as he tried to breath and center himself. His arms burned from the counter attack and extended work out, and his stomach... well that was just gone. Reaching into his locker, even this act causing some pain, he pulled out two leather black and green gloves and put them on. He clenched his fists hard and threw a few mock punches in front of the mirror. Mentally, he was ready for this fight, already seeing Aki knocked the hell out and begging to leave. Realistically, all he would have to do would be to block and/or dodge all of Aki’s hits, easy win right? Aki could barely lift one hundred pounds, what damage could he do in the ring, when faced with a real fight? No, Celtic had done the same a million times before, so this should be no different.

Read the rest here: https://celticfirefights.blogspot.com/2020/01/a-painful-beginning-celtics-story-p2.html

The Celtic Fighter, a name created mostly in honor of his heritage, was finishing up his workout. Keeping mostly to himself, while blasting power metal music, the other guys respected his alone time. It was an odd thing with men and the gym. If you put forth effort, no matter what shape or size, they would respect you for it. If you came back and stayed hungry, you would earn even more of their respect. If you paid your dues, and did what had to be done, this was your place. It would be your second home. Nothing was given freely here, everything had to be earned. It was hard but there was respect. In any case, his muscles were screaming from the intense three hour pushing, but it didn’t matter. He was always hungry for a better looking body, and he would not stop till he got it. For too long, he was the little shit, the little guy, the guy who could stand up to no one.

Read the rest here: https://celticfirefights.blogspot.com/2020/01/a-painful-beginning-celtics-story.html

Seems like my old fight blog got hacked and deleted. Gonna try to restore what I can find and re upload things.

New link: https://celticfirefights.blogspot.com/

Urban Showdown:
The punk, Celticfire vs The Cowboy Jack Wrangler

After a chance meeting with Celtic running his mouth, knowing Jack would be a easy mark, the shit talking has come to an end, and the fight has been set. Who will come out on top? Will the years of experience and punk ass attitude of the Celticfire be enough to take out the young buck? Or will the younger new commer surprise all and take the prize?

Who do you think will win and come out on top? Let us know in the comments and why you think one will win over the other!

While I'm usually not into anything erotic, he said one of his fantasy's was a no holds bar beat down on a person so he could feel "powerful" for a day. Being a weakfish skinny guy myself, I could understand the feeling, and the amazing ego boost it would give. Once he assured me he wouldn't try anything once he was done, and that I would be alive the next day, I thought “sure why not”. It's a relative cheap birthday present and I get one hell of a resistance workout from it.

If I didn’t have any idea of how bad it was going to be before, I quickly learned when I got there. Opening the front door (being friends and a relative nice neighborhood, he left it open for me) I literally had the air knocked out of me. He was waiting for me to open the door, waiting for me to enter so he could get one good shot on my unflexed stomach. I remember looking up at him and seeing this huge sneer on his face, he was going to have as much fun with this as he could. Not wanting to seem weak (even if that really hurts) I laughed back at him sayings "is that all you got girl?" He might have been skinny like I am, but I wasn't (nor am I), any abs god myself. But hey, it was his birthday, so had to play the part right?

He laughed at me, and told me this was just the beginning of the worst night of my life. Picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder (it took him a few tries, but I didn’t fight it) he carried me into a back room that he used to work out. It was a basic room with a home gym and a punching bag hanging from the wall. He dropped me on the floor where I let out a loud oooph, he wasn’t very delicate with it and I was probably getting heavy for him. He told me to get up, and I just laid there with a smirk on my face. “Make me bitch” I said. He answered with a kneed to the center of my stomach, lifting me up slightly. He then grabbed me by the hair and threw me against the punching bag with a mean uppercut to the gut that he kept there after connecting. He kept pushing and pushing until my back hit the bag. Here, he duck taped my hands behind the bag so I would be unable to move. As I hung there he took his time putting on a heavy pair of boxing gloves, they were red like my stomach would be. He launched a few playful slaps to my gut as he took one look at me with some mean looking eyes and said “Best… birthday… every” and went to work.

He started with your standard straight punches that made a loud "thud" every time he connected. Then he began to move is body around, stick and move, stick and move like he was a real boxer. He was really getting into this! With growing fierceness he worked my upper, middle, and lower gut with straight punches, left and right hooks and even uppercuts to keep me guessing what was coming next. I can’t tell you how much time passed, I was to busy having my insides pounded to hell to keep track. When my stomach resembled several shades of red he took a moment to catch his breath. Again, neither one of us are or where muscle gods, so we needed or breaks. I could tell my voice was broken as hell, and sounded pathetic, but I had to keep my buddy fired up. It was his birthday after all. I told him “Is that it, my mother could hit for more”. He laughed at me, and told me I was a little bitch and couldn’t do any better. We both laughed and agreed. After he grabbed himself some water (he was sweating like crazy) he switched up his attack again. He stuck to straight punches for the stomach, but this time used side kicks (not every well considering we are both untrained fighters) to work my sides.

He was having a blast, and I was in a hell of a lot of pain. But at least he was having fun right? After he was kicked my sides, he moved on to quick fire punches. There were hooks, straight punches and I think upper cuts, they came so fast and to everywhere I couldn’t keep track. He worked my stomach, my sides, and even my chest too, all keeping me putting up any kind of defense. Now that my body was broken, and bruised as I would later learn, he removed the duck tape and let me have a breather. I have no shame in saying my punk ass hit the ground. Damn, I was hurting bad, but god damn was this an intense workout. One I would never forget too. After a min or so of letting me pretend I was recovering, he took off the boxing gloves picked me back up. “Yeah, bet you felt like a big man now don’t you?” He said to me, trash talking apparently made the whole experience better for him. Knowing I couldn’t offer up any resistance, he threw me around the room trash talking some more. I hit the wall a few times, and I remember him flipping me over and driving me down, but as for exact details, I really can’t remember. Finally, he picked me back up again and threw me back into the punching bag. He rapidly threw (or at least as fast as he could) punching right into my midsection while switching up with knees and uppercuts to keep me standing up. At one point he was holding me up while throwing uppercuts to the middle of my stomach to lifting me off the floor.

They hurt like hell too btw.

At this point, I was too weak to even let out grunts of pain, I just took it in silence. After that, I really have no idea how long that was; he let me fall to the floor again heaving. At one point (now that I think about this again) he thought he scored a knockout on me, he was slightly disappointed he just beat me senseless. Anywho, in the hour or two I was there (I later found out the whole thing took two and a half hours) I received the most vicious beating in my life. Again he let me have a few moments to breath, but he didn’t wait long, he wanted to finish me off and stand victorious. I remember seeing it in his eyes, he felt like a strong man that day, so I guess mission accomplished! "Ant so tuff now, are you little boy", he said to me as I just lay there breathing heavily. He was having a ball with this, he felt powerful like never before. He asked me if I wanted to stop, to which being a cocky bastard told him if he even started the beat down yet. Yeah, that was a dumb thing to say. He responded by slamming a knee down right to my relaxed and very beaten stomach. He laughed and said something I couldn’t even try to make out. I was seeing stars at this point. He continued doing this a few more time before he sat down on stop of me. He gently rubbed my stomach and chest, trying to soften the beaten that he inflicted on me.

Yea right…

As he saw me relax a bit, I thought he was done for the day, so he launched a new assault right to my solar plexus and upper abs. There had to be a steady 10 mins of nothing but "ooph" "ughhh" "ahhhh" from me. What little I recovered from before was crushed to hell and back. Each punch sunk in, and made my body shake from the impact! He knew I was done, or at least very close to it. More like done…. Standing me back up (i was wobbly at best) he pulled back his arm and launched a mean right cross right to my gut and forced it in as hard as he could. My arms wrapped around my gut as I fell to my knees. The only reason I was still upright was because his fist was still firmly implanted in my stomach. With a mean laugh, he threw away my arms and landed one last uppercut to my stomach before I hit the ground.

I was done, and I couldn’t even tap out.

He laughed and said I was "the most awesome person ever" and flipped me over to massage my stomach and chest until I could at least sit up on my own. Now that I think about this again, I think it was a good half an hour before I could even move my arms. It was one crazy ass beating. I wound up spending the night at his place and he took me home the next day.

Thankfully nothing required me taking off my shirt for the next couple of days…