The Producer’s Ring: Bamber vs. Penikett

Eli Brody sat atop the most powerful economic and political institution in history. The West Coast Titan possessed sweeping power as both political leader and entertainment industry producer.  His empire was built on savvy choices of what entertainment talent to promote, in what vehicle, and for how long.  The secret to his success was simple: he promoted the talent that made him hard.  The entertainment-consuming public had never failed to follow where Eli’s cock led, and the public voted with their social media upvotes and subscription prices, to propel Eli to geopolitical dominance.

Titans like Eli held the power to shape public opinion, to launch tomorrow’s stars or to bury them. As a result, beautiful actors with big dreams and muscles were always lined up for the opportunity to make an impression on him. Eli had a knack for plucking someone from obscurity and creating a multimedia juggernaut. He also occasionally employed some mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to the careers of established talent struggling for survival.  The masterful producer understood that it was equally important and profitable to know when to break down overexposed talent, to choreograph their fall from grace in just such a way as to exploit those actors that the public had grown to love to hate, for rating gold.

Eli’s Vancouver corporate headquarters were situated in a dockside warehouse that looked more industrial than entertainment-industrial. He was considering his next two, back-to-back appointments. The barometer in his crotch told Eli these two actors were going to be valuable commodities. Both hot, hungry hunks were on the cusp of a major breakthrough, and they were both coming to Eli today to make their pitch to become the next big thing.

Jamie Bamber and Tahmoh Penikett both had their first big breaks on the same TV show. Both immediately generated a passionate fan following that only grew more intense as they appeared in less and less clothing as the series unfolded.  When the show came to its natural conclusion, both Jamie and Tamoh had jobs lined up, but they wanted what neither had yet accrued the capital to secure: the breakthrough role that would catapult them into the heights of stardom.

Eli’s first appointment was with Jamie. The British beefcake pitched him an idea he had for a copy show, starring him, of course.  “It’s guaranteed ratings gold,” Jamie explained.  “I’m in top shape physically,” the hunk boasted, instinctively flexing his thick biceps, straining the seams of his tight dress shirt. “My fans will follow me, and I’m ripe for a vehicle that will make me, and you, a boatload.”

Eli smiled and nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. He had another idea for Jamie that would almost certainly make him a bigger star than this tired cop show format he was pitching today.  But the talent seldom understood the nuances of timing and momentum that Eli had needed to master to build the type of success he was known for. Jamie was making a hard sell for a mediocre lateral move, and the producer could tell that the young hunk wasn’t going to be convinced easily that the smarter move was to wait.

“Mr. Brody,” his secretary called across the intercom, “your next appointment is here.”

“Jamie, I’m sorry that I’m so booked up this morning,” Eli said. “I think you may be on to something, but I’ve got to meet with my next appointment.  Perhaps you’d like to stay, and we can talk further about this after my next meeting.”

“Definitely!” Jamie seemed pleased to get a second round for his pitch. As he stood up to exit the room, Eli waved him back to his seat.

“No, I’d like you to stay.  I’d like your take on my next appointment, Jamie.” The British beauty sat up straight in his chair, his ego stroked semi-erect by the producer’s invitation to weigh in on a business decision.

Eli’s office door opened, and the Titan welcomed his next appointment with a smile. “Come in, Tahmoh. I think you and Jamie know one another.” The tall, handsome Canadian walked in and looked at his former co-star with a scowl. “I thought this would be just us, Mr. Brody.”

“My appointment with Jamie went long,” Eli apologized, waving him to take the seat next to Jamie. “However, I think perhaps the three of us may have some things we could talk about together.”

Wary anticipation hung heavily in the air as Tahmoh took his seat. “Gentlemen,” Eli began, “You’ve both caught the attention of the public, but the two of you split the audience. Your competing popularity has polarized your constituents,” Eli explained, pausing as the two hunks stabbed at each other with frustrated glances. “There are now Jamie-fans, and there are Tahmoh-fans, but not much crossover between the two camps. If I were to launch the both of you right now, there would be immediate comparisons and competition that, ultimately, would hamstring the both of you. In turn, I wouldn’t see the ratings or the profits that I think the two of you have the potential to generate. So I’ve got a can’t-miss serial in my pocket right now, and one of you can have it.” Both hunks sat up, still straighter, in anticipation. “It’s a sensational pilot, with lot’s of skin, perfect to make the most of all of the fans fantasizing about your hot, hard bodies. But, frankly, I can’t decide between the two of you who to give it to.” Both eager actors immediately began to plead their case loudly, talking over each other. Eli stopped them with an impatient raise of his hand. “I’m not going to decide which one of you gets the contract.  You are.”

“We are?” they both said at the same time.

“Yes, you are,” Eli smiled.  “You’re going to wrestle for it. It’ll be a private match for you to sort this out between the two of you. I’ll have the contract and a pen in hand, and I’ll just wait for the two of you to decide who gets to sign it.”

“So, I just beat him, and the contract is mine,” Jamie asked. Tahmoh bristled, but Eli silenced them both with another regal raise of his palm.

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Eli continued. “The two of you will have to agree as to who gets the contract. You’ll need to do whatever it takes to… convince your rival to give it to you. We’ll sign the contract once the both of you verbally confirm to me who deserves it. Do we have an understanding?”

Both Tahmoh and Jamie swallowed hard, then nodded.

“Excellent.” Eli stood. “No time like the present. Follow me.”

A little dumbstruck, Tahmoh and Jamie followed Eli out of his office and through the maze of hallways winding through the massive complex. Both men were nervous. Stopping at an unmarked door, Eli explained, “This is your locker room, gentlemen.  Go on in and you’ll find your gear. Get suited up. You’ll see the door to the wrestling ring on the other side of the locker room. Join me at the ring when you’re both ready.”

Silent tension hung in the air as Tahmoh and Jamie walked into the locker room. The walls were lined with gray lockers. On the changing benches, the rivals found a box for each of them. While this turn of events was a complete surprise to the two of them, clearly the entire situation had been carefully and thoughtfully planned. Within the boxes, they discovered the gear that had been chosen for them. Tahmoh’s was a red singlet with a white Canadian maple leaf across the abdomen. Jamie’s singlet was blue, with the union jack printed across the front and back.

They turned their backs to one another and started to strip down. Jamie pulled off his polo shirt and undid his button fly jeans. Standing in his underwear, Jamie was, indeed, at the top of his physical form. On his 5’9″ frame, his shoulders were sculpted boulders, and his pecs were round and massive. His arm muscles were cut like crystal, each muscle group clearly striated through the taught skin. Jamie’s tiny waist was layered in abdominal and oblique muscles bulging over top one another. His round, muscled ass sat atop thick legs built for both sprint and distance speeds of an English footballer. As he pulled off his underwear to put on the jock strap tucked in the corner of his box, his thick cock and massive balls hung loose. He was shaved smooth all over, and sweat was already making his skin glisten as he tugged on the skintight union jack wrestling singlet.

At the same time, Tahmoh stripped off his tight, white t-shirt and jeans.  The Canadian wasn’t as heavily muscled as his rival, but beautifully toned and proportioned, just the same. At 6’3″, he towered over the Brit.  Tahmoh spent time in the gym building his broad back and strong frame, but he had clearly earned his strength doing more than just lifting gym weights. As he stripped out of his designer briefs and into his jock strap, his long thick cock swung like a pendulum. Pulling on his maple leaf singlet, he adjusted his jock.

They didn’t make eye contact as they strode to the far end of the locker room, toward the door marked “Ring.” On the other side of the door, they found a classic pro wrestling ring in a large, open, cargo warehouse.  Bleachers lined the walls on all four sides, but the seats were empty.  Eli sat on a wooden chair next to the ring, legs crossed, checking messages on his phone. As the men approached, the Titan stood with a smile.

“Since this is the first time either of you have been here, take some time to warm up and get a feel for the ring. When you’re ready to start, let me know.” Eli straddled his chair backward, resting his arms on the chair back to face the ring as he watched the men climb through the ropes.  Jamie bounced from foot to foot, getting his heart pumping and his muscles warmed up. His thick, meaty pecs shimmied and bounced excitedly beneath his singlet. Tahmoh tugged on the ropes and stretched out his long, lean muscles for a couple of minutes, and then shadow boxed in a corner, preparing himself mentally for what was to happen next.

“Ready?” Jamie asked his opponent after a couple of minutes of silent, nervous warming up.

“Let’s do this,” Tahmoh answered. They both glanced at the producer outside the ring.

Eli pulled a pen and a folded piece of paper out of the breast pocket of his suit coat. “This belongs to whoever the two of you decide deserves it most. I’ll need to hear both of you verbally assent to your unanimous choice for who takes his next step in this business. There are no other rules. Pins, knockouts, and submissions are meaningless, unless the winner exacts the consent of his rival to hand over his claim to the contract. I’m just here to appreciate your negotiations. What happens next is up to the two of you.”

The two men eyed one another warily and began to circle the ring. Tahmoh’s reach advantage was abundantly apparent to the both of them. The Canadian hunk took a couple of testing jabs toward Jamie’s chiseled jaw, but the Brit kept himself out just out of reach. Abruptly, the Brit dropped to one knee, going in for a single leg, but Tahmoh hopped backward, successfully avoiding the attempt.

“You’ve done this before,” Jamie said with a smile, climbing quickly back to his feet.

“Hell, I’ve never done anything like this before,” Tahmoh smiled back.  “But I’ve wrestled a little.”

Both men continued to circle one another, sizing each other up. Jamie lunged for another single leg and caught Tahmoh’s left ankle. The Canadian collapsed on top of him, grabbing him across the throat with his left forearm and squeezing, grasping his left wrist with his right hand and pressing upward against the Brit’s windpipe. Jamie began to choke and released Tahmoh’s ankle to try to pry his opponent’s arm away from his throat.

“You’re choking me,” Jamie coughed and sputtered.

“I’m beating you, you asshole,” Tahmoh responded fiercely.

Jamie twisted his head around within Tahmoh’s grip, sliding himself into a side headlock and releasing the pressure across his windpipe. Already sweating with the initial exertion and nerves, Jamie wedged his hands between Tahmoh’s forearm and chest, and pried them loose enough to slip out of the headlock. Both men rolled away from one another and stood, crouching, facing one another.

After two quick breaths, Jamie lunged again for a leg, but this time Tahmoh saw it coming. Clenching both hands together above his head, the Canadian brought his double fists crashing down into the middle of Jamie’s broad, muscled back, just as the Brit was stretched out reaching for his leg. Jamie crashed to the mat with a thud. Tahmoh immediately dropped his entire bodyweight down, driving a knee into the middle of Jamie’s back. The Brit yelled out in shocked pain and arched his back, scrambling to put distance between them. Tahmoh patiently stood up again, following his wriggling opponent across the mat. He aimed, and brought his knee again down with his full weight in the exact same spot in the center of Jamie’s muscle-armored back.  The Brit screamed louder, arching backward in agony. A third time, Tahmoh stood, took deliberate aim, and pounded his knee into the weakened spot of Jamie’s back.

Jamie screamed and writhed in pain. He no longer tried to retreat, but simply scrambled to keep his injured back out of striking distance. Tahmoh stalked him coldly, watching the desperation rising across his rival’s pretty face. Decisively, the Canadian dropped to his knees, grabbed Jamie’s left arm with both hands, and pried it backward in a painful hammerlock. He knelt on one knee, wrenching up on his opponent’s wrist, as the Brit sat helplessly.

“Okay, I lied,” Tahmoh said quietly, kneeling behind the Brit and leaning in close to his ear.  “I have done this before. And I’ve been wanting to do this to you for the last five fucking years.”

Standing up and straddling his opponent, Tahmoh gripped Jamie’s trapped arm with both hands and yanked upward, dragging Jamie’s body a foot off of the mat, dangling from his precariously twisted shoulder.  As Jamie screamed like a wounded animal, Tahmoh slammed him to the mat face-first. He leaned hard into the hammerlock, making the Brit’s boulder shoulder quiver. Then Tahmoh placed both hands on Jamie’s hammerlocked arm and kicked his feet up in the air. He did a graceful handstand, balancing his full bodyweight down on Jamie’s nearly dislocated arm. Then he again dropped his right knee down into the weakened middle of Jamie’s back. “Fu-uu-uuck,” Jamie choke-screamed through silent sobs.

Cranking Jamie’s muscled right arm even higher up his back, Tahmoh knelt down on one knee and lowered his head to speak softly in Jamie’s ear. “You’ve been an arrogant prick your entire life, pretty boy.” The Canadian swung his leg over to straddle his opponent’s ass and lean into the hammerlock harder. “The way I see it, you’ve got three options right now. You give the contract to me now, and this is over. Or, I can break you down quickly and really injure you, and when you’re fucked up good, you give the contract to me and, this is over. Or, I can pick you apart, piece by piece, until you can’t move, and when you’re beaten senseless, you give me the contract, and this is over. Which option do you want?”

“Fuck you,” Jamie growled through clenched teeth.

“Hmmm,” Tahmoh snorted. “That’s definitely not option one. But I’m not sure if it’s option two or option three. I guess it’ll have to be dealer’s choice.”

Maintaining his hammerlock with one hand, Tahmoh grabbed Jamie’s hair with his other hand and pulled his opponent up off the mat. Just as Jamie pulled his knees underneath him into a kneeling position and balanced himself with his free hand, Tahmoh released the hammerlock and hair, pivoted on his left leg and brought a roundhouse kick solidly across the side of Jamie’s face. The Brit’s nose snapped, and blood flew through the air as Jamie landed on his side, motionless.

Grabbing his dazed opponent by the hair again, Tahmoh dragged him up to his feet. Jamie sagged groggily, but before his legs gave out, the Canadian shoved one arm through Jamie’s legs and grasped the Brit’s neck in the crook of his other arm. Scooping him up, Tahmoh hoisted the stunned man up to his chest effortlessly. Tahmoh looked down at Eli, watching intently from outside the ring, as he paraded Jamie’s battered and vulnerable body in a slow lap. Stopping in the center of the ring, he lifted Jamie high up on his chest.  Then dropping to one knee, the Canadian drove his opponent’s already weakened back down across his outstretched knee. Jamie screamed and choked like a wounded animal, nearly split in half across Tahmoh’s knee. Tahmoh grabbed Jamie’s left ankle with one hand and his chin with his other hand and pulled each end of Jamie’s tortured body backward across his leg.

Sobbing in pain, Jamie flailed with his hands, smacking at Tahmoh’s grasp. The Canadian hunk chuckled, staring down and admiring his work. “Every day, you’d show up on set like the king of fucking Persia,” Tahmoh growled. “You’d flash your dimples and bounce your pecs underneath your tight t-shirts, and you’d just get everything you asked for.” He released Jamie’s ankle, and then pounded his elbow down into the tightly muscled abdomen stretched out across his knee. The air rushed out of the Brit’s lungs as the captured hunk gaped dumbly. “You’d wear those tight pants, showing off that hot little ass and big, juicy bulge, and and just knew we were all staring at you, didn’t you?” Leaning forward, driving the point of his elbow into Jamie’s midsection, Tahmoh worked the elbow in small circles, digging deep and breaking apart the star’s muscled torso.  Jamie screamed out in pain, grasping Tahmoh’s arm and trying to pry him away from his damaged core.

“We’re past the point of my putting you out of your misery quickly, so you only have two options left now.  Give me the contract now, or I’ll break you down in a new way, and you’ll give me the contract then.”

Blood pouring down his face, Jamie spat blood, then weakly replied, “Fuck you, I’ll never agree.”

Tahmoh chuckled. “I was sort of hoping that would be your answer.” Cradling Jamie in his arms, he lifted the broken star up in the air again.  “Moving on, then.” Swinging Jamie’s legs high in the air, Tahmoh drove his opponent’s body into the mat in a devastating powerslam. Jamie reflexively arched his damaged back high in the air, as Tahmoh climbed off of him and knelt at his side. As the Brit writhed on the mat, his tormentor grabbed Jamie’s singlet straps and dragged them off his hugely muscled arms. “That’s it,” Tahmoh muttered, “let’s see those huge fucking shoulders, pretty boy.” Then he kicked him over onto his stomach and straddled his lower back. Reaching down and grasping Jamie’s chin from behind, Tahmoh leaned back, trapping the Brit’s muscled arms across his thighs. Using his height to its full advantage, Tahmoh leaned way back now, pressing with his thighs to bend Jamie backward in a camel clutch.

“I can sit here all day, you little fuck,” Tahmoh said calmly.  Leaning backward still further, he strained the Brit’s quivering back to the limit. Jamie cried out in excruciating pain. “Are you ready to give me that contract yet?”

Jamie gasped and groaned, but finally choked out a whispered, “No!”

“You are a tough little fucker, I’ll give you that,” Tahmoh conceded, more than a little frustrated now. Maintaining the chinlock with his right hand, he slowly reached forward with his left hand, squeezing and massaging his opponent’s thick, sweat soaked chest.

Abruptly, Tahmoh released his hold on Jamie’s upper body. The Brit’s face slammed violently to mat. “Tough little fucker,” Tahmoh muttered again, as he climbed to his feet. “Those big fucking muscles of yours are good for something after all, I guess,” he sneered, shrugging his arms out of his own red singlet, exposing his glistening, gorgeous torso. His six-pack abs heaved as he pumped air in and out of his lungs.

“But as much as I admire that hot body of yours,” he growled, “it’s standing in my way, you fucking prat.” He bent forward and violently ripped Jamie’s singlet down his legs. The Brit groaned and crawled forward on his elbows, going nowhere but away from the punishing hunk towering over him. Tahmoh arrested his progress by grabbing the back of his jock strap and prying Jamie’s hips off the mat. Circling to stand in front of him, the Canadian scooped him up in his arms, lifting the Brit upside down and hoisting him across his left shoulder. Tahmoh bounced the Brit up and down in the backbreaker. Jamie screamed as he was paraded around the ring, bent backward and hanging helplessly over his opponent’s shoulder. “I submit! I submit,” the Brit cried repeatedly. “Please, p—-please!”

Tahmoh let him slide off his shoulder and collapse on the mat in a heap. The Canadian breathed heavily, wiping the sweat from his brow. “By ‘submit,’ do you mean you’re ready to give that fucking contract to me, you piece of shit?!” He dropped to one knee and pried Jamie’s face up by a fist full of hair. “Are we in agreement that I deserve that contract?!”

Jamie swallowed hard, his eyes closed as his body screamed out in pain. Finally, he licked his lips, opened eyes to look at his tormentor, and whispered, “Fuck. You.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Tahmoh snarled furiously, spitting in anger. “You do not know when to give up, do you, pretty boy?” He dragged his opponent’s limp body off the mat by his hair, and then hoisted him off his feet in a growling bearhug. Jamie’s head lolled backward in a silent scream. His feet hung inches off the mat, suspended in his tall opponent’s crushing embrace. Tahmoh shook him like a rag doll. “Okay, okay,” Jamie gasped desparately, “I….” But his opponent abruptly shifted, covering the Brit’s mouth with his huge hand and holding him off the mat in a kiss of death.

“Oh, no, not yet, pretty boy,” Tahmoh muttered. “You made me work too hard to avoid what I’ve got in store for you now.” Jamie flailed, struggling for air beneath his opponent’s smothering hand. Smoothly, Tahmoh rotated the limp rag in his grasp, spinning the Brit upside down and holding him there in an inverted bearhug. Tahmoh shook him hard, stomping around the ring. Staring down between the Brit’s lightly hairy, thickly muscled legs, he licked his lips hungrily at the sight of Jamie’s sweat soaked pouch, quivering round ass, and vulnerable hole.

“It’s yours!” Jamie screamed finally. “The contract is yours! Please. PLEASE! Stop now, please,” he sobbed.

Maintaining the inverted bearhug, Tahmoh stomped to the nearest corner. He hung his rival’s knees across the top ropes and hooked his ankles under the cable between the turnbuckle and the ring post. The Canadian let the Brit’s head drop to the mat with a thud.

Kneeling on one knee, leaning low to put his face right up in Jamie’s, Tahmoh asked, “Say it again, you fucking prick.” Jamie’s rippled abs, soaked in sweat, heaved as he sucked down air and humiliation. When he didn’t answer quickly enough, Tahmoh straddled the Brit’s face and clawed viciously at the big, stuffed pouch hanging helplessly from the turnbuckle. Jamie’s screams were muffled, deep up his rival’s ass, and his body bucked and shook in desperate protest.

“I’m sorry,” Tahmoh said, lifting his ass an inch or so off of his opponent’s face, but still holding tight to the crotch claw. “I don’t think I heard you that time. Tell me again, pretty boy?”

Gasping for air, Jamie quickly replied, “The contract is yours!”

Tahmoh smiled, making eye contact with Eli just outside the ring. He stroked Jamie’s glistening torso with the palm of his left hand, as he held tight to the crotch claw with his right hand. “So, we’re in full agreement, then,” Tahmoh demanded.

“Yes, I agree. I AGREE,’ he screeched as his cock and balls were twisted violently.

“Who deserves this contract more,” Tahmoh asked, sliding his free hand around his rival’s hip and kneading the Brit’s bubble butt appreciatively.

“You. You! You deserve it more,” Jamie choked pleadingly.

“And, who’s the better actor,” Tahmoh demanded to know, now grabbing both of Jamie’s ass cheeks, pulling his hips forward as the Canadian lapped at the sweat soaked pouch with his tongue.

Jamie swallowed hard, overcoming a last vestige of pride, before gasping, “You are. You’re the better actor!”

“That’s fucking right, I am, you piece of shit,” Tahmoh snarled, slapping savagely at Jamie’s quivering crotch and making the Brit squeal.

Tahmoh climbed off and leaned across the top rope, sucking down recuperative, deep breaths and wiping the sweat from his face. “Well, Mr. Brody, I think we’ve come to an agreement.”

Eli smiled broadly up at him, and rose from the chair. He handed Tahmoh the contract and pen. “Very well deserved,” he said quietly. “I see great things in store for you, Tahmoh.”

Tahmoh winked at him and took the contract and pen. Again, he knelt beside Jamie, still hanging limply in the tree-of-woe. He held the contract against the Brit’s heaving abs and signed on the bottom line.

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