I think I like the look of Muscle Domination Wrestling’s Tommy Johnson. I equivocate not because I’m indecisive on the point. Rather, Bear Hugs 4 doesn’t give us a lot of look at tortured Tommy. I mean, he’s there, the entire match. But from the moment he dives dramatically into the ring underneath the bottom rope, he’s crushed and pummeled and nearly swallowed whole by the massive mountain Tatum Riggs.

Tommy spends ages and ages off his feet and crushed brutally in Tatum’s brutal embrace, so I can say definitively that I like Tommy’s hot, athletic little ass. Tyrannical Tatum does not, however, appreciate his opponent’s sweet glutes. If he did, he’d have bendt the kid across his knee, wedgied his underwear high up his ass to reveal more skin, and spanked his lily white butt rose red. This does not happen in this match, and that’s Tatum’s loss. More importantly, it’s our loss.

MDW describes Tatum as “shredded, if undersized.” He’s got pretty skinny legs, but I would agree that the glimpses we get of his torso suggest he is, indeed shredded. His abdominal and oblique muscles are defined, and his chest is sweet, lean, nicely shaped meat. I think I’d like to see someone spend some focused attention on his nipples, because amid his twisting and writhing and rolling up in a defensive ball, I believe his headlights look hot.  The pound of salami down his pouch also looks seriously tasty, even for a vegetarian like me. Tatum doesn’t pay them any attention, however. Fucker.

Nobody asked me, mind you, but if I were writing the match description (or even better, the wrestler profiles that MDW has GOT to create to help us find the choicest cuts from their growing stable), I’d describe young Tommy as a homoerotic wrestling cross between Bradley Cooper and Scooby Doo’s stoner BFF Shaggy.  His wispy beard sans mustache gives him a whiff of the barely legal rule bender who tokes up between shop class and PE. That shaggy hair do, moderate length everywhere except a long, punk shock at the top front of his head, looks both haphazard and thoughtfully intentional at the same time. I think the kid is probably head-turningly handsome, but it’s just a fleeting impression I get, since he spends 96% of this match with his head down, face obscured, instinctively curled up in a ball to try to just survive the absolute mugging.  Tatum does not drag the tempting stoner up by his hair. He does not shove the kid’s face humiliatingly into the camera. He never pries the kid’s head backward by that hair-handle and force Tommy to flex his deliciously lean, albeit dwarfed in comparison to Tatum’s, muscles. Bastard.

I think I’d like a second date with road kill Tommy. I’m not positive about that, but I believe I’d like to get to know him better. The bulge in the front of his trunks that remains ample throughout his mugging certainly invites another look. The fleetest glimpses of his ripped abs draw my curiosity for more. His shocked pleading (“not so hard!”) as his rock hard body is crushed makes my jobberlust juices flow. And all of that anguish he sells, if paired with the stoner, leading man good looks I think he has, could be deeply satisfying in better light, from a different angle.

MDW has always had a heavy hand on the mugging side of homoerotic wrestling. They revel in the squash, which I can absolutely get into, mind you, but which I know leaves many wrestling fans flaccid. But I sort of like the face value of Bear Hugs 4. I can groove on the idea of the star quarterback picking out the sexy stoner in the school cafeteria and demanding to make the handsome, well-hung punk suffer in private. I can get stoked by an outmatched mugging like this. But I long for a lot more reveal. I long for Tatum to have a reason for bullying hot stuff Tommy Johnson. If he’d just stroke the kid’s hot abs once (bully turns out hot for hot stuff Tommy), the story would instantly be a bestseller. Or hell, if he just argued that the kid looked at him wrong in algebra class, it’d be a genuine narrative to grab hold of. And speaking of reveal, and this goes for anyone producing homoerotic wrestling, give us a chance to see the studs, to get to know them, to fall in lust with them. Give us better camera angles, better wrestler positioning. Hell, make my fondest fantasies come true and give us some pre-match testimonial time with the boys, a la old school On Top Productions scenarios, to give us the tenor of their voices, the measure of their confidence, the depth of their dreams.  And if you’ve got a hot, ripped piece of smoked meat who just might possibly be the best cross between Bradley Cooper and Shaggy, let me see that mug! Let’s see him with a heavy-lidded cocky smirk. Let’s see his features preening with confidence. Let’s see his handsome face suddenly contort in fear and anguish. Let’s see the tears track down his cheeks.  I think I’d like to see Tommy Johnson again, preferably with my hand shoved down his trunks, but even short of that, I want to see more. Literally. A lot more.