Joe has already given the stamp of approval in his review of Thunders Arena’s “Bathroom Battle,” which Joe perhaps more evocatively dubs “Psycho Shower Scene.” But I wanted to add an, “Amen, brother,” and tell you a few things that Joe didn’t mention, but grabbed my… attention.
The whole scenario starts out shaky for me, because as soon as Big Sexy tries to bully Z-Man out of the bathroom mid-shave, Z-Man turns into the cat that ate the canary. You, me, Joe, everyone has pointed out how that how shit-eating grin on Z-Man’s handsome face is both crotch warming and tends suck the air out of any suspension of disbelief a homoerotic wrestling scene requires. But there it is, irrepressible and adorable, but aggravating (me) as hell. Happily, Big Sexy merely turns up the heat and puts the beautiful Playgirl model in such jeopardy that there’s little time for any more grinning, just gasping and pleading and sputtering, trying not to drown.
Have I ever disclosed around here that I was once president of my fraternity? It isn’t something that comes up in conversation often at this point in my life, but it’s true enough. Bathroom Battle, as contrived and “bizarro” as Joe rightly describes it to be, somehow manages to convey an ironic authenticity about it as I stroll down memory lane with each outlandish, over the top hijink these two get up to. I have cataloged in my mind, fondly, almost disturbingly similar scenes from my frat house days, as guys turned the bathroom (the chapter room, the hallways, the kitchen, whatever) into a pro-wrestling ring. And just like in my frat house days, the shit goes from clowning to oh-fuck-you-didn’t-just-do-that in the blink of an eye.
The genre is executed well. I’m caught by surprise by how fully the boys manage to sell combat in what has to be one of the most work-unfriendly places to stage a rip and strip NHB wrestling match. Seriously, if you work for OSHA, DO NOT go to ThunderTV and watch this, because I’m afraid, despite your obvious wrestling fetish, you will feel compelled to report this shit for about 50 workplace safety violations. There are several points at which I’m holding my breath waiting to see one or both of these gorgeous hunks go down hard and break something internal as they impact the wet tiles of the bathroom floor. Kudos to both of these high class veterans, however. No one appears to have any lasting damage by the end… at least not any accidentally inflicted damage.
The intentional damage these two pillars of the franchise inflict is oddly satisfying and deeply erotic to my eyes. They both can’t seem to get enough of clawing the living hell out of each other’s balls. Z-Man even goes for a two-handed ball claw near the end, presumably because 1) it applies twice the pressure, and 2) what Big Sexy has stuffed down his trunks is more than one handful. They quickly and unsolicitedly (is that a word?) peel each other out of their skin tight square cuts, and Z-Man’s undergear in particular is incredibly tiny. I mean, that orange thong gets rolled up into what is essentially just a g-string in seconds and stays that way through most of the scene, giving Z-Man fans and ass fans some of the finest, wettest, most compromised looks at his lovely booty. You won’t see the full monty, even though this is a bathroom battle, but there’s plenty of bare ass and glimpses of cocks and balls as their paper thin speedos stretch and strain at the edges.
I like the innovation here, including Z-Man’s use of Big Sexy’s luxuriously bearded face to scrub the scum off of the shower glass. Big Sexy hoisting the smaller hunk off his feet and onto the bathroom counter to finish the shave Z-Man was in the middle of at the beginning of the scene similarly warms my cockles for the commitment to tell a story, connect some dots, be present.
It’s a well sold story, at that, and somehow the back and forth battle holds my attention, builds suspense, and feeds me regular thrills in wet, nearly naked hunk watching all at the same time. No more shit-eating grin, and Z-Man completely convinces me when he nearly wrenches Big Sexy’s balls off to take control of the big man, humiliate him, dominate him. “You’re a dirty dog, and this is Z-Man Grooming Services ©” Z-Man snarls, and in that over the top, I’m-being-clever-but-also-posturing-for-dominance way, he sells it. At least I buy it.
The end of this match totally shocks me, and frankly, I’m not easily shocked. Z-Man does his best Dick Cheney impression on his opponent whose facial hair bears more than passing resemblance to that of an observant Muslim, and damn it all if I’m not slack jawed, offended, and wildly turned on all at the same time.
The water boarding is pure balls, as far as I’m concerned, and depending on your politics and proximity to military intelligence assets, you may either get way, way pissed off by how this all plays out, or like me, you may find enough time has passed to make water boarding available for eroticizing. Either way, I’m left feeling exhausted, de-hydrated, and in need of a long, hard shower. Who’s coming over to fight for the soap?
Oh, and there’s towel slapping. That probably sells the authentic frat house romp gone way too serious more than anything. Z-Man’s hot, juicy ass getting snapped with a wet towel. Oh, those were the days…