The Best: Heel

The Battle to Be the Best Heel could not have turned out more competitively and suspenseful! Brooklyn Bodywrecker and Kid Leopard traded the lead in voting at least a dozen times. Every time I checked the poll, momentum had swung a different direction. BBW opened up some distance relatively early on, and I thought KL was about to be buried under all that hairy, horny muscle like all of the rest. But holy fuck, do NOT count the Boss out prematurely! It’s been two days of heavy voting, though, and I’m calling it as of this moment. With not quite 51% of the vote, there’s just one vicious son of a bitch left standing. Check out David’s blow by blow in the comments, but in the end, his version of the match equivalent of voting did not end up the way the voting did. Because nobody, but NOBODY pulls off a gut check homoerotic badass heel beatdown like The Boss, Kid Leopard.

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Maybe someone can write a new blow by blow of the match equivalent of this balls out slug fest. As for me, I picture them 45-minutes into this non-stop battle, gear ripped to shreds and discarded. Both sadistic masters are soaked in sweat, exhausted, and fully erect. BBW has been exploiting his weight advantage, and he now has KL torture racked, doing laps in the ring as he wrings KL’s neck with one hand and crushes his balls with the other. KL’s big, beautiful cock is bobbing back and forth. As has happened so many times in this match, BBW locks down a finisher that’s turned every other opponent into a sniveling, begging, bitch boy ready to pledge allegiance to their new master, but KL refuses to submit, despite his dire straights. Minutes of ripping at him, slowly circling, BBW keeps growling and barking, demanding the submission, growing frustrated that his opponent just won’t acknowledge the truth that he’s helplessly conquered. BBW’s beefy legs quiver, and he suddenly stumbles over his own feet, abruptly dropping to his knees as KL rolls off of his back. BBW pounds the mat furiously, enraged, with growing self-doubt. KL writhes behind him, struggling to pull his gasping face off the mat. His gorgeous, smooth body is marked all over with angry bruises and rope burns. Just as he pulls himself up to his hands and knees, BBW is standing next to him, driving a vile place kick into his ribs that lifts KL off the mat and sends him sprawling to this back. BBW is snarling and spitting, promising to take the title, to take KL’s magnificent dancer’s ass, to take possession of his will, and to take over the homoerotic wrestling empire KL has built.

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It was that last bit the make’s KL’s eyes widen, his nostrils flare, and his arm jut out and sweep BBW’s leg out from underneath him just as he’s about to drive another place kick into his opponent’s ribs. Exhausted, BBW lands hard, flat on his back. Slowly, but faster than his opponent can counter, KL slides in between BBW’s spread-eagled hairy legs. Snapping his legs around one leg and prying BBW’s other leg open wide with this shoulder, KL spladles his rival violently. BBW reaches his hands down toward his quivering inner thighs with shock on his face. “No, no, no,” he begs, a moment before KL rabbit punches him in the balls. “Let’s see how those balls of steel hold up now,” KL snarls like the villain he is. Fists rain down. Elbow strikes dig deep into BBW’s swollen testicles. At first, there’s a masochistic grin stretched across his face as he savors the ball abuse, his jackhammer swelling that much harder, stretching magnificently over his hairy lower abdomen. But as the onslaught wears on, BBW’s grin is interrupted by twangs of suffering, as even his notoriously high pain threshold is approached and then exceeded. KL throttles his sac. He twists and pries it away from BBW’s body. He crushes it in one hand, and as BBW starts groaning in pain, KL begins sliding his other hand slowly up and down BBW’s throbbing shaft. BBW’ hips rise off the mat as he approaches orgasm. His eyes roll into the back of his head as his neck arches and his mouth gapes. KL’s hand slows precipitously, eliciting a gasp of desperation from his quarry. “Oh, fuck, no,” BBW mutters. KL cranks on his shaft harder and faster again, turning his opponent’s protests into purrs. A few second later, as BBW’s lower back is arched high, his cock pulsing in anticipation, KL lets go entirely and slaps the straining, captured cock dismissively. “Fuck,” BBW mewls, reaching down to put himself over. KL swats his hands away from his cock, refusing to permit him to satisfy himself. “Who’s your fucking daddy now,” KL asks, slowly wrapping the fingers of one hand around BBW’s cock again and flicking its head with his thumb. “Who’s your daddy, punk,” KL demands, his hand perfectly still but at the ready. “Please,” BBW mutters. “Please,” he whispers. “Who’s your daddy, punk,” KL barks at him, shaking his cock violently once.

“You are, you are,” BBW whispers, self-loathing in his face. “Say it for all the boys to know, once and for all,” KL barks, slowly starting to massage his cock again. “Who is it? Who’s your daddy, punk?” BBW swallows hard, his eyes closed, his glutes flexed and his lower back arching off the mat. “It’s Kid Leopard,” BBW gasps, his voice spiking an octave. “Kid Leopard is my daddy!

… or at least that’s how I see it. Congratulations to BBW on an incredible run, but all hail the king, the heel in charge, The Boss himself, Kid Leopard. The Best Heel.

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

Woah. I haven’t seen Cage Thunder manhandled so completely since Mitch Colby stripped him naked and smothered him in his massive pecs. Brooklyn Bodywrecker rolled right over him, and I think David sums up the defeat perfectly with his description of Cage Thunder battered unconscious, hung in a tree of woe, and taken advantage of in his helplessness.

Again, I ask, is there anyone who can knock BBW’s muscle ass off the throne? There are plenty more heels in the business, but we’ve nearly cleared that top shelf of sadistic masters who I think could pose a serious challenge. The only heel left who I can think of who is vile enough to put BBW in his place is heel daddy himself, the magnificent hunk who basically invented the homoerotic heel, Kid Leopard.

On the left, sitting pretty and smirking, muscle heel daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker (5’9″, 190 lbs) vs. on the right, the prototype, the Boss himself, Kid Leopard (5’8″, 160 lbs).

This is an epic showdown, so consider carefully. Vote wisely, and comment below how you see this clash of legends coming to it’s historic climax.

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

I thought Kid Vicious was going to dethrone Brooklyn Bodywrecker, when he jumped out to an early lead in the voting. But BBW started to slowly pull away, and KV just wasn’t able to reel him back in. I don’t weigh in so forcefully most days, but I have to say that I voted full heartedly for KV, and I have a searing image of him pounding the fuck out of BBW’s back in an OTK, and working his cock and balls with both hands and his mouth until he’s drained him dry. Since submission by emission isn’t spelled out in the rules, however, I suppose I can forgive KV for prematurely celebrating the victory, dumping BBW off his knee and backing into a corner to demand BBW service his monster cock in return. BBW plays along with the misunderstanding, climbing out to stand on the ring apron and wrap his arms around KV from behind, violently throttling his Louisville slugger, before he suddenly snaps on a sleeper and rag dolls KV until he’s knocked out cold.

The ranks of heels who could seriously challenge Brooklyn Bodywrecker are shrinking. One challenge he hasn’t faced yet is the diabolical mystery of a notoriously nasty heel in a mask. I’m pulling out the signed photo of Cage Thunder I possess and kissing his crotch for good luck as he climbs into the ring and lowers the boom on the reigning champ.

On the left, muscle bear daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker (5″11, 190 lbs) vs. the masked terrorizer Cage Thunder (5’11”, 180 lbs).

Which sadistic legend wrings out the other? Vote here, and comment below to describe how you see this breaking one way or the other.

Producer’s Ring: Ventimiglia vs. Ramamurthy

—–continued from The TV League: Match 1—–

The TV League: Match 2

Ventimiglia v Ramamurthy

by Bard


“We have a problem,” Eli Brody said to two of the hunks from his TV talent pool.  Sitting in front of Eli in his Vancouver office was Sendhil Ramamurthy and his co-star Milo Ventimiglia.  They were both original components of a running series that started strong, but was slowly bleeding its audience ever since the conclusion of the first season.  “The show is heading into the toilet unless we shake things up and grab the audience’s attention.  We’ve tried pulling in new talent.  We’ve tried changing settings, turning the good guys bad and the bad guys good.  The last hope to save this show is that someone big needs to die.”

Both men shifted in their seats, seeing where this was going.  Milo interjected, “It’s the writing, Eli.  They need to get back to storylines like we had in the first season.”

“It’s not just the writing, Milo,” Eli corrected.  “The ensemble has gotten stale.  I have a strong intuition about these things,” Eli said with his hands crossed over his crotch.  “Someone needs to die, and it’s going to be one of the two of you.”

“Look, Eli,” Sendhil said quickly, “I want this.  I need this.  What do you want in order to convince you to keep me on board?”

“I need to see some passion,” Eli reponded.  “One of you needs to step up and show some rage.  Someone needs to show me that he can let loose and tap into something primal.  If the show survives, it will be because we’ve reconnected our market with what they deeply desire.  And what your market desires is to see one of the two of you start to color outside the box, to show some ferocity, to really convince them that you’re someone that kicks ass.”

Both men glanced at one another nervously.  Neither was certain what rage might lay beneath the surface of the other.

“Your contracts are mine, and they’re both up for renewal.  I need to see your ferocity today, right now.  I don’t want to see your classical training or your method acting.  I need to see you, laid bare and in touch with what gets your blood pumping, not to mention what gets my blood pumping.  Follow me,” Eli said commandingly.  Milo and Sendhil followed Eli out of his office and down a deserted hallway in Eli’s warehouse headquarters.

Stopping at an unmarked door, Eli explained, “Inside you’ll find some gear to change into.  When you’re dressed, you’ll go through the door at the end of the room.  This is going to be a battle between the two of you.  No one else is watching.  Your task is to convince me, just me, that you have the fighting spirit to keep your job.  The man who can show me today that he’s a warrior will have a role in next season’s show.”

Milo angrily shoved open the door and walked in to discover a conventional gym locker room.  Sendhil followed Milo.  On either side of the locker room were unmarked boxes.  Milo walked directly to one of the boxes and opened it.  Inside he found solid black wrestling tights.  He immediately began to strip down out of this street clothes.  Sendhil silently watched Milo unbotton his flannel shirt to reveal his slender, tightly muscled torso.  Milo’s ripped pecs weren’t huge, but they were deeply cut and lightly covered in dark hair.  His abs flexed and stretched as he removed his shirt, revealing a light trail of hair extending from his bellybutton down to the top of his jeans.  Milo noticed Sendhil watching, and Milo flashed him a contemptuous smile.  Eyes fixed on Sendhil, Milo squared his shoulders to stand directly in front of him.  Slowly, Milo’s hands unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped his fly.  Milo’s right hand touched his rippled abs, and then slowly rubbed down his lower abdomen.  His hand slipped underneath the top of his underwear and disappeared up to the top of his wrist, expanding the tight fabric.  Sendhil could see Milo’s hand flexing beneath the surface of his underwear, rubbing his cock and balls sensuously.

Suddenly, Milo turned away from Sendhil and grabbed both his jeans and underwear at his hips, and slowly pulled them both down his legs.  Straight-legged, Milo bent over, peeling his clothes off his legs.  Sendhil watched as Milo’s muscled ass stretched as he bent forward.  Milo then slowly stood up straight, running his hands up the back of his naked legs and ass as he came upright.  Then still with his back to Senhil, Milo picked up the black singlet, stepped inside the legs, and put his arms through the shoulder straps.  Milo turned around to face Sendhil again and smiled at him, as Milo snapped the straps across both shoulders and then adjusted his cock and balls, naked beneath the taught fabric.

Sendhil swallowed loudly, and then walked to the other box.  Upon opening it, Sendhil pulled out the solid white singlet that were inside.  Milo chuckled, “I guess we know who’s the jobber in this match.”

Sendhil looked at Milo sideways, then pulled his pink polo shirt over his head while Milo watched.  Sendhil’s torso wasn’t as muscled as Milo’s, but he was wiry and looked strong.  Sendhil’s chest was broad and covered in a layer of dark hair.  Not looking at Milo, but facing him, Sendhil unzipped his khaki trousers and pulled them off.  Stepping out of his trousers, Sendhil stood still for a moment, looking down at his bronze body and his white bikini underwear.  Then turning to the box, Sendhil picked up the white singlet and stepped inside the legs, pulling his arms through the straps and adjusting the taught material over his slender body.

Milo grinned contemptously, slowly looking down and up Sendhil’s body.  Then Milo turned and walked across to the end of the room and through the door, with Sendhil following silently.  They entered into a large open warehouse with a pro wrestling ring in the middle surrounded by empty raised bleachers on all sides.  In a wooden chair next to the ring apron, Eli sat with his arms crossed, one ankle resting on the other knee.

“It’s time to start, gentlemen.  I call you gentlemen, but what I need to see is for the two of you to become something other than gentlemen, now.”  Waving to the ring, Eli concluded, “Let the games begin.”

Both fighters walked confidently to the ring, hopped up on the ring apron, and stepped through the top two ropes.  Milo began to swing his arms in broad circles to warm up.  Sendhil remained still, staring at his opponent.  Milo began twisting his torso, popping his back and stretching his core.  Then he began running in place, pumping the blood to his legs.  Milo turned to the corner and stretched his legs out to either side, stretching his hamstrings and bending forward in a graceful stretch of his lower back.

At that moment, Sendhil rushed forward, knelt one knee to the mat, and with his right hand reached between Milo’s outstretched legs and locked his grip around Milo’s balls.  Milo fell foward on his knees awkwardly, crying out in pain and grabbing at Sendhil’s hand squeezing like a vice.  With his left hand, Sendhil grabbed a handful of Milo’s dark hair, and controlling him by both the hair and the balls, Sendhil lifted Milo jerkingly to his feet.  Squeezing Milo’s balls even harder and pulling on his hair, Sendhil drew Milo up to the balls of his feet, Milo’s hands clutching Sendhil’s right hand flexing control over Milo’s balls.  Suddenly Sendhil shoved the back of Milo’s head forward and downward, plowing Milo’s face into the turnbuckle with the full weight of Sendhil’s body crashing down behind him.  Releasing both grips on his opponent, Sendhil stepped backward as Milo’s face richoted off the turnbackle and he fell flat on his back onto the mat, with blood spurting from his broken nose.

Milol’s left hand cupped his throbbing balls while he raised his right hand to his broken nose.  Pulling his right hand away from his face, Milo looked at the blood dripping from his fingers with shock.  “You fucker!” Milo screamed hoarsely through the pain in his balls and the swelling in his deviated septum.  Milo turned his head to the side and spit out blood that was pooling down the back of his throat from his broken nose.

But before Milo could roll completely to his side, Sendhil leapt into the air and stretched out his legs over top of his opponent’s prone body.  Falling with his full body weight, Sendhil brought his right leg squarely across Milo’s bloody face.  Rolling over Milo’s body, Sendhil hopped back to his feet and leapt again in the air, dropping his right leg again across his opponents face that was bleeding profusely now and swelling quickly.

As Sendhil stood again, he felt a cold, wet sensation on the back of his bare right leg.  Pausing from his onslaught, Sendhil felt the back of his leg with his right hand, and then brought the bloody hand in front of his face.  Looking at his opponent’s blood dripping from his fingers, Sendhil’s eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment.  Bringing his hand to his lips, he licked the blood from his middle finger.

Turning his attention back to his bloody opponent, Sendhil leapt again in the air to drop his leg across Milo’s broken face one more time.  Milo had gathered his wits by this time, though, and at the last moment he rolled away, leaving Sendhil to land solidly on his tailbone, sending a shock of pain up his back and through his limbs.  Sendhil’s hands went reflexively to his lower back.

Milo jumped unsteadily to his feet, and straddling his opponent’s outstretched legs, Milo grabbed a handful of Sendhil’s thick black hair with his right hand.  Drawing Sendhil up by the hair, Milo pulled his opponent to his feet.  Just as Sendhil reached his feet, Milo ducked under Sendhil’s right arm, wrapping his wiry arms around Sendhil’s midsection and lifting him in the air in a brutal bearhug. Still stunned from his injuries, Milo focused his full effort on squeezing his opponent’s torso with every ounce of strength left in his arms and chest.  Sendhil screamed out in pain, straining to touch to mat with his suspended feet.  Milo leaned backward, pulling Sendhil further off the ground and not allowing him to relieve the pressure on the small of his back.

Squeezing furiously, Milo buried his bloody face in the white tights stretched across his opponent’s upper abdomen in front of him.  After a few seconds, Milo felt his adrenalin fueled fury waning, and he leaned forward under the weight of Sendhil’s body clutched in front him.  Slowly, Sendhil slipped lower through Milo’s grasping bearhug, Milo’s face dragging upward to rest on Sendhil’s chest.

Still caught in Milo’s weakening bearhug, his face a half inch from his opponents bloody and swollen face, Sendhil’s eyes again fluttered shut as a wave of both pain and pleasure shot through his core.  Sendhil drew his arms up, and brought his hands to cup each side of Milo’s face in front him.  Sensing a new tactic, Milo squeezed again with all his strength, but his strength was largely spent.  After momentarily drawing his hands away under Milo’s crush, Sendhil smiled and held Milo’s face again in his hands.  Still held in Milo’s loosening grip, Sendhil leaned his head forward and licked the blood from Milo’s right cheek.

Shocked by this unexpected move, Milo dropped Sendhil to the ground, released his grip, and shoved him away.  Sendhil took two steps backward, then with a blood curdling scream ran forward, lowering his shoulder into Milo’s midsection and lifting his opponent off his feet.  Rushing forward with his opponent on his shoulder, Sendhil drove Milo’s back into the turnbuckle, spearing him further in the abs with his shoulder.  The air came rushing out of Milo’s lungs with a “whoosh,” and his shoulders slumped forward as he clutched his stomach.

Sendhil grabbed Milo’s right arm, and forcefully placed it over the top rope, then did the same with Milo’s quivering left arm.  Then grasping Milo’s right knee with both hands, Sendhil lifted Milo’s right leg up and over the middle rope, twisting his ankle in the rope to trap him in place.  Finally, Sendhil muscled Milo’s left leg up and over the middle rope, leaving Milo spread-eagled and suspended in the corner, completely vulnerable.

Standing in front of his trapped opponent, Sendhil reached down with his right hand and grabbed Milo’s cock through his black singlet.  As Sendhil squeezed, Milo squirmed and moaned in pain.  Still grasping Milo’s cock, Sendhil then reached down with his left hand and grabbed the base of Milo’s balls through the fabric.  Milo’s head rolled back and forth on this neck, as if warding away his tormentor.  But as Sendhil began to squeeze and pull Milo’s balls and cock apart, a gutteral growl began to rumble in Sendhil’s chest.  His eyes wide with fury, Sendhil stretched Milo’s cock and balls until Milo was sure that Sendhil would rip them both from his body.

Screaming out in pain and desparation, Milo cried, “I give, I give!” as clear tears poured down his bloody red face.

Sendhil released his grip and stepped away, as a quivering post coital sigh escaped from his parted lips.  Shrugging his shoulders, one at a time, out from his mostly bloody white tights, Sendhil stood with his torso bare in front of Milo’s body still trapped in the corner.  Then grasping Milo’s face with his hands again, Sendhil rubbed at the blood and tears caked on Milo’s face.  Sendhil then turned away from his defeated opponent and walked to the side of the ring where Eli sat transfixed by the battle.  Sendhil then wiped his opponents blood across his own cheeks and then across his darkly hairy chest, and clenching his fits and flexing his arms, Sendhil’s head tilted back and he let loose a primordial scream.

Then panting, Sendhil dropped his arms limply to his side and stood erect, staring into Eli’s eyes.

Eli smiled lustfully and said, simply, “Fierce.”

 

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

The face off between Brooklyn Bodywrecker and Guido Genatto was not a typical match for either dominant bear daddy. There was some tough back and forth early on in voting, but after some serious social media campaigning, BBW started to roll all over the Dirty Daddy. Read David’s blow by blow description of how he sees this match playing out, including some sweet, hard lessons learned by Guido for some of his well known indiscretions regarding letting his homophobia show (I’m sure he’s not the only one familiar with anti-gay slurs, but he did have the bad taste to pull them out in OUR ring). So there’s some kick-ass karma at play in picturing full throttle sex gladiator BBW beating him bad. The choicest part of David’s match description is when BBW scoops Guido’s worn out, naked body up, cradled across his chest, and then pounds him down into an OTK to wear out his cock and balls. David pictures Guido passing out in the end, but personally, I see Guido weeping and begging for mercy from his heel daddy, submitting everything, flat on his belly, locked up in a full nelson with BBW’s hungry cock knocking on the door.

With three victories under his belt, is BBW unstoppable? He’s wrecked the bodies of a variety of vicious heel opponents, but there’s a deep, deep bench of heels who almost certainly want their crack at him. But I think we’re going to have to pull from the top shelf of homoerotic legends to give BBW a serious challenge. And I can’t think of anyone more serious, more sadistic, more of a dominant sexual gladiator, more… vicious, than Kid Vicious.

On the left, muscle bear daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker (5’11, 190 pounds) vs. the viper Kid Vicious (6’1″, 170 pounds).

I have no idea who may win in the vote (vote below), but I’m sure a match between these two would be violently explosive. Share your thoughts about how the victor seals the deal in the comments below.

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

Some of the notoriously fierce Jonny Firestorm fans couldn’t help themselves but register their votes for Brooklyn Bodywrecker. That’s serious endorsement for BBW to keep rolling through the BBB heel competition! Check out David’s full force fuck stakes heel bash match description in the comments. I picture this as BBW in control the first and last thirds of the match, with Jonny working some of his pro heel magic there in the middle. But in the end, torture racked and cock throttled, sweat and tears pouring off him, Jonny cries and begs until BBW has added him to his stable of daddy’s boys. BBW collars him with a leash and makes him crawl on his hands and knees behind him as they leave the ring room.

While BBW has had his way with a couple of vicious heel cubs, how does he do against another undefeated, massively muscled notorious bear daddy? And who fits that bill better than Dirty Daddy himself, Guido Genatto? You have to ask yourself what the chemical composition would be when high impact indy pro power squares off against a legendary master of sadistic homoerotic domination. What do you answer?

On the left, defending the title for the third time, muscle bear daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker (5’11”, 190 pounds) vs., on the right, Guido “Dirty Daddy” Genatto (5’10”, 235 pounds).

Not that it needs to be repeated, but their are no rules, no ref, and knowing these two guys, no common decency. Just a ring, and the open question of who secures a submission or knock out to advance his claim to be the best heel of them all? Vote here, and comment below how you see this daddy-down playing out.

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

Brooklyn Bodywrecker did not take kindly to Kayden Keller’s expressed intention to unseat him as the hottest erotic heel in BG East history. BBW took the victory in the voting by 2-to-1. I never find Kayden sexier than when he has to dig his way out of a deficit, but he just couldn’t stand the onslaught of BBW’s sadistic erotic offense. Read David’s blow by blow of the action in the comments, because it’s dizzyingly hot. I picture the climax of this face-off including Kayden choke slammed repeatedly, and then spreadeagled across the ropes, hanging in a corner. BBW milks Kayden’s battered cock, and then force feeds him his own. I think he could knock Kayden out at will, but BBW wouldn’t be satisfied until Kayden has submitted, body and soul, pledging to obey his new daddy until the day he dares make another run to beat him in the ring. BBW hoists his new boy over a shoulder, spanking his naked ass as he leaves the ring room with a new acolyte.

On the one hand, who in the fuck can unseat BBW? On the other hand, have you seen the deep bench of nasty ass heels in the homoerotic wrestling business?! For the next match-up, I’m picturing a stark contrast of size, strength, and style to see if a super-popular pro-heel turned homoerotic legend can get under BBW’s skin. Kayden pulled off an upset in taking the BG East title as Best Heel from multi-winner Jonny Firestorm, so let’s see if Jonny can get double redemption here today.

On the left, defending his claim on the title, muscle bear daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker  (5’11”, 190 pounds) vs. on the right, Jonny “the Ballbasher” Firestorm (5’5″, 145 pounds).

The first to wring out a submission or knockout in the ring advances, but the real fun is in how it goes down. So vote here, and share your ideas about what turns the tables one way or the other.