Reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month, Charlie Panther, grabbed my attention every bit as commandingly as he grabbed poor rookie, Tim Messina, and crushed him like a grape between his steel cabled thighs. Charlie is relentless, battering Tim in wave after wave of withering physical and psychological domination. The squash is breathtaking (for me… for Tim, it’s also dignity-stealing). Charlie’s non-stop verbal assault is every bit as humiliating as the non-stop physical assault, and that much more erotic for it. Charlie earned his status as my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month for all of that, but also for his incredibly hot, hard, sexy body. Perhaps what grabs me most is the change itself. Between three years ago and now, Charlie Panther went from looking like this…
…to looking like this…
Holy shit! Charlie’s mighty, meaty pecs and tight, narrow waist rock me hard. Losing the bleach increases his handsomeness by a multiple of at least 10, I think. But the physical transformation runs far deeper than a bottle of peroxide.
|Irish Muscle God Devil Devitt targets where Charlie Panther used to be most vulnerable.|
The last we saw of Charlie, he teamed up with the brutalizer Matt Stryker (and his dubious manscaping) to face off against the high flying, high quality indy pro team of Paul Hudson and Irish muscle god Devil Devitt. Charlie was big and beefy, no doubt, but next to the stunningly ripped physique of Devitt, Charlie looks ready to show up in a Wrestling Arsenal feature on doughboys.
|Charlie gets a kick out of watching his opponent’s suffer.|
That tag match was a rare re-match after Charlie’s nasty mauling of hardcore pro boy Paul Hudson in singles competition. I’m not sure if lovely, lithe Paul ever looked sweeter getting worked over by the heavyweight Panther. The contrast between them is a work of art. Charlie’s gorgeous, dark brown complexion wrapped around Paul’s blindingly lily white skin only skims the surface of the visual contrast between these two “blonds.” Paul is whittled down to the lean loveliness of a professional athlete who trains relentlessly and probably has the genetic gift of burning calories effortlessly. The snarling Panther is a full half a foot taller, fifty or so pounds heavier, and bursting at the seams to bully his lightweight indy pro opponent.
|Cameron Mathews tries to turn the tide of fate and
start a winning streak by tackling the Panther.
In the Big Cat’s only other match released to date, he was still sporting the unfortunate effects of bleach, but this time facing off against an indy pro a little closer to his own size, Cameron Mathews. Cameron was achingly young and pretty, not yet having quite blossomed into the muscle stud he is today. But despite having the reputation as “the company punching bag,” Cameron twist-ties Panther like a loaf of bread and pushes the Big Cat to reconsider whether all that talk he’s so good at may have just been digging him deeper and deeper into a hole. However, with the wind at his back, Charlie makes Cameron pay, crushing and slamming Cameron’s beautiful bubble-butt into whimpering submission.
|Tim Messina doesn’t have enough hands to check all
the bruises that muscle stud Charlie Panther pounds into him.
I have to wonder if that’s the Charlie Panther that Tim Messina thought he was going to face when he signed up for Pros in Private 9. Perhaps Tim thought he might catch the Big Cat flat-footed, counting on Charlie to lumber into the ring and underestimate him as just another in that long line of lean white boys who eventually succumb to the Panther-pounding. It’s easy to miss it, but Tim’s clearly an accomplished wrestler, and you just have to wonder if perhaps he was counting on exploiting Charlie’s soft-around-the-middle conditioning and outlast the Big Cat to a stunning career-establishing upset.
|Charlie Panther displays his stunningly beautiful butt while threatening
to pop Tim Messina’s head off of his neck.
If Tim was expecting to see the Charlie Panther of 3 years ago, imagine the shock to watch Charlie Panther 2.0 climb into the ring! Charlie must have dropped about 30 pounds of padding and then added another 15 back on in gorgeously seasoned, thick, powerful muscle mass. It’s not like Charlie’s ring record was suffering from having to work a little harder than any of his opponents to move his beefy body around the ring. He was already devastating. He took some licks, but let’s face it, carrying some extra ballast and all, he’d proven again and again that he wasn’t going to be satisfied until he’d beaten the will to fight out of his opponents.
|The Panther roars with his prey captured helplessly and humiliatingly.|
Now add to that tried and true formula for success a newly sculpted physique. Add to that concoction even more power, twice the endurance, and, unbelievably, even more self-possession that leaves no doubt that Charlie knows what a rocking stud and dominating ring master he is. He’s every ounce the same crushing, slamming, pounding presence he’s always been, but with that mouth-watering new body of his, the Big Cat is nothing short of a juggernaut. The second most astonishing thing about this match (after the unveiling of Charlie’s luscious new physique) is that poor Tim has still managed to resist the temptation to running screaming from the ring a full 30 minutes after he arrived.
|Time and training have done Charlie Panther good!|
Charlie Panther has all the moving parts that define a homoerotic wrestler of the month here at neverland. He’s got a mouth that never tires out. He’s got muscles just crying out for some slow, lingering, hands-on worship. He’s a seriously handsome mother-fucker, particularly without the extra weight and that unfortunate encounter he had with a bleach bottle a few years back. It’s amazing to me that I’ve managed to make it this far without mentioning his astoundingly lovely ass and the concealed handgun he’s got stashed in the pouch of his perfectly proportioned trunks. And, as always, most importantly, Charlie Panther tells an excellent story, both in word and in action, grabbing my attention, twisting my crank with both hands, and leaving me breathless and deeply satisfied.