In MDW’s Oil Hunks 11, things are not what they seem. Well, some things are pretty self-evident. For example, Joey Justice is impossibly sexy. Fuck, look at that body. Tight, tanned, hugely muscled. The square jaw with thick, dark stubble makes Joey look like a muscled up Batman on vacation. He flexes proudly for the camera as Zach Altovito watches from the ring apron. “Aesthetics, baby,” Joey smirks with a sideways glance at Zach. Total eye candy? Of course Joey Justice is exactly that.
And then there’s mountainous Zach. Holy fuck, look at the size of that? If Joey is a muscled up Batman, Zach is every ounce the Hulk with no CGI required. On the pretty-o-meter, Zach weighs in way behind dazzling leading man Joey. But for sheer magnetism, I have a hard time tearing my eyes off of Zach. Put them in a homoerotic line up, and I’d shock myself by kicking Joey to the curb for a a couple of hours with Zach and that bottle of baby oil in the corner of the ring.
Joey is sure he’s got the superior muscle in the ring. He gloats over his jaw dropping physique. He brags about his superior power. The best 2 out of 3 armwrestling contest proves that Zach’s gargantuan guns put Joey to shame. “You got lucky, man,” Joey snarls bitterly, inexplicably, because that wasn’t luck, dude. You just got your pretty muscles owned.
The outcome of the test-of-strength/game-of-mercy is the same. Zach crushes Joey to his knees for the first score. “Where’s your strength at?” Zach taunts. Joey turns the tables to even things up. “I just needed to warm up,” Joey smirks and struts. The tie breaker is all Zach, almost instantly, total ownership.
“You come into my ring, flexing and posing, and now you’ve got nothing to show for it,” Zach snarls, vaguely pissed at the poser. “You have to wrestle to prove yourself,” Zach lays down the ultimatum. “Other than that, I’ve got no respect.”
They agree to oil stakes, which is sort of the first particularly sexy element to this match for me. I’m not fully convinced of the motivation, but they both agree to oil down the winner without any fuss. It’s just a bet. It’s not that they feel particularly emasculated by the thought of putting their oily hands on each other. I like the low key move on both hunks’ part.
After agreeing to wrestle, Zach asks Joey to show him that stunning double bicep pose again. A classic narcissist, Joey believes that he’s just that fucking gorgeous that Zach actually just wants to admire his muscles. He turns to the camera and strikes the pose. Zach drops to a knee and punches pretty Joey in the balls from behind.
The wrestling is concise, but intense. Zach’s reverse bearhug on Joey is lush. He throws him around the ring convincingly. He stomps on Joey’s legs as the square jawed, hypermasculine babyface writhes and whimpers like a bitch. “I’ve had enough!” Joey pleads, holding up his hands in surrender. “I don’t think you have,” Zach defies him, driving double fisted punches into Joey’s washboard abs over and over. He rides all over pretty Joey Justice. Pulling the pin up boy to the mat in a choke, he bears down on his windpipe, making Joey’s panic rise. “Tap out,” Zach demands. Joey does it, because he’s officially Zach’s bitch now.
The oil down is slower and more deliberate than it often is. Joey really rubs the oil in. When Zach demands he do touch up work on some missed spots on this biceps, Joey just reapplies another liberal coat. Fuck, Joey absolutely fades as Zach starts flexing those glistening muscles. God, Zach is the man. He instructs Joey to get the hell out of his ring, and like that bitch he is, Joey just does it.
But back to where this whole thing started. Things aren’t entirely what they seem. Joey spills the beans after Zach has fucking owned his ass in every form of physical competition. “You just got lucky,” Joey bitches again, “I don’t really wrestle, man.” On the one hand, I want Zach to open up another can of whoop ass on him for shattering the pretense that this is a wrestling match. But, on the other hand, there’s something oddly refreshing about just naming what’s been evident from the start. Pretense aside. Ignoring the art of kayfabe. I’m actually grooving on the oddly genuine moment of truth when, stripped of his dignity, Joey confesses that he’s a poser.
And suddenly in that moment, it occurs to me the other thing that isn’t quite what it seems about this match. Zach is a babyface. A gargantuan, superhumanly proportioned good guy. The premise is that he’s a heel, but everything about Zach screams an upright hero. Other than the blindsided punch to the balls. Though, even then, there’s something sort of right about that. But Zach’s domineering, contemptuous lines don’t have a ring of truth about him. I don’t actually believes that he loves crushing another man underfoot. I think he’s a little awkward about steamrolling all over Joey. No shit, I think Zach’s a heel poser!
Oil Hunks 11 is short on wrestling, and take Joey’s words to heart as a big ol’ buyer beware: Joey is no wrestler. You might think it’s a standard MDW heel-squashes-babyface match, but the twist here is that it’s a poser-on-poser beatdown. I’m probably loaded for about one more match of Joey getting trampled, if it takes longer and he cries a little more. But as for Zach, I’ve got a whole lot of fantasies that I’m aching to see more of, particularly if he brings a refreshing domineering, babyface bruiser angle to spice up the MDW formula.