I think Muscle Master Kevin at Muscle Domination Wrestling may have taken it personally when I mentioned in the past my predilection for seeing more mature muscle daddies beat down cocky young bucks (hello, Mitch Colby, let me introduce you to Alexi Adamov). Not to mention my fawning adoration of muscle daddy Matt Thrasher who became an instant infatuation starring in Daddy’s Home.

Well, daddy’s back in ZZZZZ 6, and he loves his gorgeous, big, beautiful muscles almost as much as I do. “Yeah, look at that,” Matt says, flexing for the camera. “Daddy’s got some big guns here! Daddy’s the Man!” True on all points, as far as I’m concerned. Fuck, I’m into this hunk hard. Salt-and-pepper hair across his chest and ass. Sensationally thick legs, meaty pecs. Deep, gravely baritone with a hint of kicking a bad smoking habit a couple of years ago. I’ve never really wanted to be anyone’s daddy or anyone’s boy, but I’d donate a kidney (I’ve got a spare, right?) to get in the ring with Big Daddy Matt with a bottle of baby oil and a certainty that that jock strap is coming off.

Perhaps too much fawning attention from a blogger attracted a little too much of the wrong sort of attention at MDW. Muscle Master Kevin slips into the ring and steals up from behind big Matt. Silently he observes the gun show, smirking, studying. Then BOOM, he’s got his massive, bulging bicep wrapped around big Matt’s throat like an anaconda.

“Oh yeah, you are looking pretty good,” Kevin acknowledges. “Do you know what’s going to look a lot better, though? My meaty arms wrapped around your neck.” I have to admit, the pathos of watching my erotic champ get subdued is intensely provocative. I’m breathless, wanting Big Daddy Matt to rally. I want him to smother Kev’s ridiculously pretty babyface between his hairy pecs. I want Matt to grunt and growl and trap Kev’s head in a face-to-crotch headscissors and be forced to watch his big daddy yank out his meat and pound one out in victory.

But alas, this is MDW. This is Muscle Master Kevin’s kingdom, and there’s more than a whiff of inevitability about big Matt turning to jelly, a fraction too quickly, once Kev’s got him in his sights and, more to the point, in his sleeper. “You are a big boy,” Kevin concedes, “but all the big boys here need to get taught a lesson by Master Kevin.” While my heart is breaking watching my sex gladiator champ get owned, I’m happily surprised by the attention that MMK gives to Matt’s beautiful body. “All these big muscles right here,” Kevin slaps Matt’s bulging pecs. “All of them being manhandled by me!” Sometimes in the more sub-dom-forward scenarios as MDW, I’m left a little cold with the lack of explicit acknowledgement that these are two hot, muscled bodies locked together. MMK hands out praise by the eye dropper full, typically. So there’s something even more pleasurable that he acknowledges repeatedly what a fucking big, powerful, hunk of a mature man Mattie is.

Kevin also acknowledges he’s followed Matt’s career at MDW. He knows what a dominant muscle daddy he’s been. He knows how he’s not just crushed the ankle biter competition, but shoved his big, fat cock down their throats. And the humbled pups have loved every second. “Thing is, Big Daddy Matt, I’m not just any young muscle,” Kevin warns him, rousing him once again for more muscle humiliation.  “I’m The Young Muscle!” He flexes in his face, but Matt’s too groggy to appreciate the view. “How does it feel to be dominated by that young muscle?” Matt’s too fucked up already to answer. So it sort of feels like MMKevin is really taunting me and my stated crush on watching big muscle daddyies like Matt take young studs to school and back. He isn’t just dethroning my sex gladiator champ, he’s rubbing my face in it.  “I can do whatever I want with you now,” Kevin snarls.  “I can do whatever the fuck I please!” He grabs Matt’s massive biceps and squeezes possessively. “These biceps are mine. Your body is MINE!”

Matt Thrasher’s fall from my sex gladiator champ podium to getting ground under MMK’s boot is sublime. It’s a squash, of course (did I mention this was MDW?). There’s precious little reason for this to happen in a ring, because battered Matt doesn’t move more than about 6 inches in any direction from the middle of the ring. Kevin’s army of fans, and I know they are legion, will love the relentless monologuing, but fuck, I’m wanting him to shut the fuck up long enough for me to hear big Matt’s groans and whimpers. But the scene tells the story of power and muscle spoiled, confidence shattered. It’s a crippling salvo in the ages old battle of youth and audacity against maturity and experience.

“Who’s your fucking daddy?” Kevin demands as Matt teeters on the edge of unconsciousness once again.  “You are,” Matt mutters thickly.

“Who’s your fucking master!?”  Kevin barks.  “You’re my master,” my conquered sex gladiator champ mumbles in heart wrenching honesty.