For months, Ty Alexander has been telling me that he’s a new man. Tired of not being taken seriously, relegated to the jobber heap, the comic relief, Ty has repeatedly dropped hints that he’s undergone a transformation. When I interviewed him at BG East this summer, there was evidence at hand. He was the only wrestler who sat for his interview shirtless, repeatedly flexing his lightly hairy pecs and smirking when he caught me staring at them. More than just the obvious muscle mass, though, there was something edgier about Ty. He’s less cocky but more confident somehow.
So I was eager to see his recent match against the lovely little newbie Steve Mason. It had to be recorded this summer. Ty was in that same shape, with that same confidence to go with the meaty, flexing, lightly hairy pecs. They silently get down to business and immediately Ty outmuscles the tasty newbie. With sheer force of will, he presses Steve into position. He manipulates the newbie’s muscled body commandingly. He spanks his ass and crotch-rips the rookie’s legs open wide in a spladle. It’s assertive and decisive. It’s not nearly so self-congratulatory and self-absorbed as the old Ty.
It’s that much more shocking when Steve outmaneuvers the upperclassman and locks down a figure-4, smothering Ty’s face in the newbie’s ass. He gets the first submission, and most shocking of all, it isn’t because Ty was showboating. It isn’t because Ty was distracted by his own beauty. It isn’t because Ty got comically cocky. It’s just because Steve earned it. There’s something more compelling and suspenseful about this match than Ty’s previous outings, not because he’s suddenly a bulldozing heel, but because giving or taking, it’s honest and raw without the glitz and strut. “Lucky,” Ty snarls, echoes of his less responsible, more petulant prior incarnation rising up defensively. “That’s not luck,” Steve smirks. “That’s skill.”
I like to think of myself as a connoisseur of young vine wrestling performances. I like to swish them around in my mouth and see if I can taste what future harvests may become with time maturity and experience. I live Steve. I like his look. I like his voice. I enjoyed the opportunity to meet him briefly, mostly in passing this summer, and he stands out in a crowd. In this match, he’s the first to squeeze his opponent’s balls. He’s fierce and determined, with a no nonsense attitude that’s the flip side of the smart-ass, sexy playfulness I caught a glimpse of behind camera. He’s beautiful in a demanding way, like he insists on being seen, studied, and appraised.
Steve submits to Ty headscissors, with a ball claw chaser, moments after scoring his first submission. “Does that feel lucky?” Ty taunts. Steve is pissed. I love that bitter edge. His ego got bruised, and hedigs into the action again with an earnestness that’s delightful. He’s also a surprisingly adept mat wrestler, and this plays out as honestly competitive. There are no fewer than 10 hot, decisive submissions traded back and forth, with the winner finishing the tally with a 6-4 advantage. But the numbers disguise the intensely erotic quality of the action.
Their singlets were more for seduction and show than function anyway, so there’s little wonder they get torn off. In the heat of battle, both boys can’t keep their hands off of each other’s crotches, but in Ty’s case, he also can’t keep his eyes and his lips off of the newbie’s package. Stripped to a purple thong, there’s a leviathan lurking just beneath the surface, responding as if with a mind of it’s own to Ty’s growing infatuation. Ty adds to his tally with an OTK backbreaker, sliding his hand inside and checking for stolen goods in all of that massively packed baggage.
It is most definitely not your average debut when Steve slides Ty into face-to-crotch headscissors and lets that swelling, mountainous bulge do all the talking. Ty chokes on the beast, kicking and fighting, until demandingly Steve grabs the back of his opponent’s head and pulls Ty’s face pressed even tighter into his now bouncing behemoth. “Looks like you like it down there,” Steve observes objectively, noting that Ty isn’t fighting it. He’s just groaning in pleasure. Finally gasping for air, Ty taps out.
Lean, pretty little Steve starts getting buried under fast at this point, as Ty kicks it into a gear I never knew he had before. I’m sure it’s at least in part due to this new transformation Ty’s been telling me about. He doesn’t choke in the clutch. He outmuscles and outhustles his new plaything, with perfectly measured elements of bullying and erotic delight. Ty tells a whole new story, one built on superior skill, experience, and power.
But I have to think at least a little of what motivates Ty to new heights is the truly remarkable sledgehammer hanging between Steve’s legs. When Ty unleashes the beast, there’s an audible thump as the monster slaps the mat. I’m restricted from showing you pictures (sign into Arena for the photographic evidence, or buy this DVD to watch the leviathan in motion). But it should say something to regular readers when I report that I’m just a bit at a loss for words to convey the magnitude of this debut. I take back and heartily apologize for referring to him as “little” Steve, because that word simply can’t stick once his bazooka comes out to play. “Woah. Impressive,” Ty makes the understatement of the year.
Steve even manages to keep wrestling for just a bit after he’s been stripped naked, which is a feat to behold. But like I said, this is Ty’s story to tell, and once they sort out who “wins,” they make out furiously and put both guns to blazing. Indeed, this is a whole new Ty, and I’m excited to see what new ground he breaks with this newly built muscle and new found attitude. And as for all of you Best Bulge contenders, move over and make room for the most jaw dropping debut I think I’ve ever seen. No, you need to move over farther. Farther. Steve’s contender needs a whole lot of room!