Hurt So Good

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Being the egocentric narcissist I am, I assume everyone must agree with me that Rusty Stevens is homoerotic wrestling pornboy #1. When comments to the contrary pop up, such as some comments slighting Rusty’s wrestling skills, I’m momentarily emotionally gobsmacked.

As I sit with the paradox of anyone with a bad thing to say about my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, the truth slowly sinks through my initial defensiveness. Of course there will be people who completely disagree with my estimation of the wonders and joys of Rusty. The great thing about tastes is that they vary. The skills that I value most may not be at all what turns the crank or sells the goods to the kinkster sitting (virtually) next to me.

Rather than debate the points and try to force a concession out of those who disagree with me (as hot as that sounds), I’ll just reiterate why it is that Rusty has a vice-like grip on my #1 homoerotic wrestling pornboy ranking (and my cock).
First of all, Rusty is a beautiful man. While that is far from sufficient, it’s essential to turn my crank. We may quibble about beauty. You may like them hairier or beefier or twinkier or darker-skinned or taller or shorter or more muscular or less muscular… That’s all fine with me. For what inspires me to pull out my wallet and contribute to the homoerotic wrestling industry, Rusty is an entirely gorgeous man. He takes a hot picture, which is probably more of a skill than most of us would give credit. He moves even sexier. He preens and struts and poses fantastically, which speaks of an erotic, self-possessed, cocky-son-‘a-bitch hotness that might come naturally, but I suspect bespeaks of a highly skilled performer.
Regarding Rusty’s wrestling skills in particular, I find him quite accomplished. I’ve seen my share of flat-footed, thick-headed, slow-as-sloths and entirely unimaginative performers step onto the mats and into the ring. Rusty is hardly someone who makes his opponents sell for two. On NakedKombat, he boasts some muay thai and jiujitsu training, which could be 100% bullshit, but I think he shows a focus and command of human joints and the ways in which they don’t bend that makes me buy that he’s got at least some passing experience in grappling. A serious MMA boy is hardly the skill set required to turn my crank, though. The skills that work for me, and Rusty is most certainly working for me, include the ability to pace a match, to apply a convincing hold, to transition from hold to hold, from offense to defense and back again, with smooth speed that crafts a story of a serious back-and-forth battle of bodies. Further, Rusty sells a delight to dominate, humiliate and rub his opponent’s face in his physical superiority (not to mention rubbing his opponent’s face in his crotch, ass, pit, feet….). Rusty’s most developed skill for what sells me is his quick wit. He translates the body-on-body story into a battle of wills. He pushes buttons and gets his buttons pushed. His banter ups the hotness of a match exponentially for me.
Finally, what I particularly appreciate about Rusty’s challenge match with former champion homoeroetic wrestling pornboy (of my heart) Mitch Colby, is Rusty’s ability to sell suffering. I think that was a major blind spot for what I’ve seen of Rusty’s work with Can-Am, and NakedKombat just isn’t a context for the long suffering sell. So I’m ecstatic (and a little worn out) from enjoying Rusty’s salesmanship getting hammered, squeezed, pounded and tossed at the hands of Mitch. Let’s face it, if it were just MMA skills I was hot for, I’d be yammering on and on about UFC meat. Those fighters typically leave me a little uninspired, though, because what turns my crank isn’t just the competition, but the eroticized competition that exploits the seduction of pain, humiliation, domination and ownership.
So you almost certainly have a whole different skill set in mind when you rank your favorite wrestlers. That’s no sweat to me. If you really want to throw down in a no-holds-barred match until one of us screams in submission, fair enough. Just like Rusty, I’ll ride you like a pony and put you away wet. But if you’re okay with celebrating the diversity of tastes that make our kink-filled world wonderful, let’s just appreciate the view.

Romanian Relief Fund

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I neglected to thank the generous boys at MuscleRomania for giving me permission to repost a few of their photos yesterday. I also had a couple of last thoughts about these delightful Romanian hunks, so here’s part 2 of yesterday’s post:

First, one more gratuitous shot of Xander, especially for my friend Joe who shares with me a particular fondness for hard men in glasses. Xander is one big, beefy beauty. He has 27 photo galleries, 12 non-nude video clips, and 27 “hot videos” at MuscleRomania, which I believe is the empirical proof to back up my claim yesterday that Xander is the bread and butter of MuscleRomania. If Joe and I scrape together enough pennies to sponsor that muscle-exchange program I mentioned yesterday, I think it’ll take someone the size of Joe Robbins to school Xander in putting all those muscles to their most optimal use in the ring.
Speaking of the ring, I failed to name the headliner wrestler boys from MuscleRomania yesterday. With just a little digging, I’m very pleased to report that MuscleRomania’s first two wrestlers (hopefully of many more to come) are George and Derrick (somehow these names don’t sound all that Romanian, but I’m certainly not an expert).
George appears to be a major ham on camera. He clearly enjoys tossing around and getting tossed a bit by his wrestling buddy Derrick. When Derrick snaps on an armbar and shoves George’s chest against the bar, things seem to turn a little (very little) more seriously competitive, at which point George challenges Derrick to an arm wrestling competition on the bar. George seems to handily overpower Derrick, which disappoints me (because I’m all about Derrick), but I chalk this up to just be Derrick’s ploy to get George to shower off on camera for him (which he does). George has the will to perform, but I think he needs some wrestling lessons from perhaps Lon Dumont to show him how to do more than just look pretty and campy with all those fantastic muscles.
And my for my final segue, speaking of all those muscles… Derrick is a tasty, tasty morsel made to order for me. He’s clearly ready to ham it up no less than George, and even without words, Derrick has major personality on camera. He displays some pretty convincing shadow-punches and kicks in one of his solo videos, and he manages to do the splits perched atop bar stools, in nothing but a jock-thong. Wow. Um…. yeah. Wow. Now I’m seriously wanting to see an entire match between Derrick and George. Let me hear them (I don’t give a crap if I don’t understand them), and by all means, let me hear their bodies in action, pounding against one another and getting pounded to the floor. Lot’s of potential here. And if I got to hand-pick his personal wrestling tutor (not sure that he’d really need one), I’d say Rafe Sanchez has something to teach Derrick, and even if he didn’t… well, I’d pay money to watch the tutorial.

Romanian Side Dish

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A few years back I ran across MuscleRomania.com and roosted there for a while, getting a nice softcore fix. What’s in the water in Romania to grow their boys so big and beautiful? Strike that… I don’t really want to know what’s in the water. It could ruin the fantasy of a nation full of natural, massively muscled, devastatingly handsome, exhibitionist bodybuilders.

My impression is that beautifully bespectacled Xander was/is the bread and butter of the site. He’s mammoth, thick, and has an ass for days. Xander also kinked the place up with full on nudity. If he just wore his glasses in the shower as he soaped up, he’d own my soul. Clearly, Xander is a very successful athlete, and I’m sure he has boys and girls offering him sexual gratification every which way, but still, he has a bit of a nerd look about him, both in and out of his glasses. A world class bodybuilding, glasses wearing, exhibitionist nerd? That’s the stuff of fantasies!
Michael was an early favorite of mine from MuscleRomania. It seems like I’ve seen him elsewhere since then. Michael eventually also offered up the full monty, which is quite a sight to see on a competition bodybuilder. Speaking of which, I love the competition videos and pics of the bodybuilders on stage, side by side with the private-dancer style softcore shots. Fantasy-fueling all the way…
Tigerbeat-looking muscleboy Andrew has remained, by far, my favorite MuscleRomania obsession. Like Michael, Andrew is featured both in on-stage bodybuilder competitions and then in for-my-eyes-only workouts. I’ve never seen video, but the stills of Andrew finally tugging off the bikini posers and showing us all his bits and baubles ranks awfully high in my list of most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
I’ve been offline from MuscleRomania for a few years now, but I recently ran across a notice that they’re boasting some new wrestling videos. Because I am a zombie to the capitalist marketing monster, I dipped my foot back in the water there. The wrestling vids that I’ve found so far are limited. They all feature these two ripped to shred hunks in jock-thongs. There are five clips of them that I’ve found so far. A couple of them show the duo jokingly tossing one another around playfully. Set to a musical soundtrack (no audio of the boys themselves, sadly), they pull off some lifts, a couple of nice hip tosses, arms bars, and even a surprisingly pleasing rear bearhug in which my favorite of the two battler suffers sweetly.
A couple of the videos under “wrestling” are similarly playfully set arm wrestling scenes, which never quite rises to the threshold of wrestling kink for me, though I can see the attraction. The final wrestling vid is a jovial clip of the same boys tossing one another in the pool. Some of the action qualifies as wrestling, though the best shot is my favorite boy in white simply diving backward, stunningly arching that ripped to shreds body, into the water. It has more of a character of just enjoying a couple of boys horsing around poolside than full on wrestling.
So, all told, MuscleRomania is just serving up a side dish of wrestling. Their main course is still the remarkable juxtaposition of legitimate competition bodybuilders on stage and then the same stunningly gorgeous, massive boys behind-the-scenes offering up a private, usually more revealing show for you and me. There’s nothing explicitly homo about this content, though it’s clearly got you and me squarely in its sights.

I think MuscleRomania has a massive, untapped potential if they choose to pursue the wrestling angle more. For example, I’d blow a gasket to watch Andrew and Michael exchange bodyscissors and bearhugs. Solo beauty is a nice appetizer, but as their wrestling hardbodies illustrate, pitting two (or more) of these sculpted gods against one another would appeal to an entirely new and expanded audience. Perhaps we can get the Rotary Club to sponsor an exchange program… send Denny Cartier, Lon Dumont, and Joe Robbins to put Michael, Andrew, Xander and the others through a wrestling school intensive. Then, let’s bring a few of the Romanian hardbody hopefuls back stateside for a few months of intense work through the homoerotic wrestling circuit. I’ll buy that!

Eureka

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No one took up my plea for more shots of a particular hot young hunk with a hint of stunning back ink. So I had to go and dig this up on my own. True enough, I feel particularly pleased with my efforts. I start with just a nameless, relatively anonymously pic of a beautiful body in profile, and I end up with Diego Fragoso.
Diego is Brazilian, apparently somewhere in the 19-20 year old range, and fantastically hot. Love, love, love this ink.
The tats on the legs are highly unusual, I think, which ups his stock in my estimation. Of course, bathing himself and his hot buddy in skivvies also lends itself to making a lasting impression. I can’t decide which I’d prefer to fantasize more… that they’re washing up after a hot and sweaty wrestling match, or that Diego is just about to Pearl Harbor his unsuspecting buddy and slam his ass to the mat, initiating a hot and sudsy match. Let’s go with both scenarios combined.

I’ve sat and looked at this photo shoot of Diego getting baptized in his underwear for quite a while, and I still can’t get enough. Somewhere in there, there’s a critique of the church and the sexuality/asexuality of the Roman Catholic priesthood. I’m sure of it. I can’t quite pull together all the pieces of the text of this art, but it’s there, and it provokes, and I’m enthralled, and Diego is both art and the content of art in this case, which warps my mind just a little.

I promised to owe a favor to whomever rounded up full on pics of this beauty’s ink. I’ll have to decide how to cash in and treat myself…

Daily Swoon

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I fall in lust several times a day. Truly, I believe the world is populated with gorgeous objects of hunky beauty around every corner. Maybe I’m just easy to please, but I think it’s healthy to swoon on a daily basis. A shirtless rollerblade boy did it to me yesterday at the park. I saw him coming down the path from a ways, so I got to savor the view for a while as he approached. He was black, sweat-soaked (you KNOW how I love that), with thick, round pecs, a flat stomach, and long, defined quads pumping as he chugged along with his i-pod providing his own personal sound track for the world.

I’ve already been swooning again, waking up to this sight this morning. In my never ending browse for beauty, I came across Allen Clippinger as I was surfing the net. Allen immediately made my heart race, my jaw drop, and my eyes water just a little (probably from trying not to blink).
I’ve never heard of Allen, but his gorgeousness has well populated several corners of the web already. Model Mayhem suggests that he’s 26 years old and hailing from Miami, originally a Cali boy. He’s apparently been banking on that stunning body and riveting face for a several years, including some early features with Abercrombie & Fitch in 2006.
DJ with Stunning Men Who Grace This Earth has all the skinny on stunning Allen. He was a Navy boy, which brings to mind a boatload of junior high “seamen” jokes that I’ll spare you. I will say, though, that the first great love of my life was a Navy midshipman, and I always remain partial to beautiful men in that branch of the armed forces.
He has a twin hunk with whom he’s modeled. They have the bare bones of their own website, with a lot of provocative, dead-linked title pages. It will be a crime against humanity if they don’t finish off the content under the link “Battle of the Twins.”
Allen’s ass is simply everywhere, and I’m so entirely supportive of that. Like every inch of him, Allen’s ass is gorgeous and gracefully proportioned. He’s simply a genetic lottery-winner for which I’m both envious and worshipfully awestruck.
His interview with Covermen Mag fills in just enough details to make my imagination run away with me. Allen says he’s up for nudity (obviously), depending on the situation/job and as long as it advances his career. Surely, there are career advancing photo shoot opportunities ready to be had for this man’s glutes. Tragically, he hopes to go back into the Navy in the officer track, which would be a miserable waste of six pack abs.
It’s at times like this that I second-guess the applicant pool in the Secretarial Pool auditions in my wrestling fiction. With a little military combat training and the delightful twin gimmick to throw into the mix, I think Allen would make a devastating addition to the Producer’s Ring. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover a little 2-for-1 gemini performances showing up in my wrestling imagination in the near future. In the meantime, Allen Clippinger is already starring in a homoerotic fantasy playing presently in my mind.

Joe’s Back

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Clearly, sweet muscle stud Joe Manganiello has earned himself an infinite supply of fans, including more than our share of gay male fanatical fanatics. His debut on True Blood this season has unveiled him shredded to bits, astonishingly huge, abs of a Greek god and, speaking of the Greeks, the shape of an Adonis. Even among those of us who are his drooling fanatical fanatics, though, Joe’s garnered just a little bit of hate. I’ve seen it repeated in more than one place, that there’s something just not right about a werewolf who, as a man, is smooth as a baby’s bottom.

Anyone who can find something to fault about this man’s body is smoking crack. And not that I’m a expert on were-lore, but isn’t the whole point that an otherwise “normal” man who’s restrained (repressed) and blends into civilized society, is driven looney by the full moon, at which point he bursts into full-body hair and takes the form of a wolf? It’s the contrast between the straight-line walking citizen by day whose catapulted into a primal state of blood lust by night that’s the point. By day, he isn’t a wolf. By day, he can look like Joe Manganiello, but in the full moon be Cujo.

I’m sure Joe doesn’t need me to rush to his defense, but then again, where else do I get to step in and act as protector for a 6’5″ muscle giant? I’ve got your back, Joe… and any other part of your body that you need any help with… anytime.

And Another One Gone

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I just uploaded the final match in the Secretarial Pool auditions, pitting models Kerry Degman and Ellis McCreadie against one another. At first glance, these two are well-matched. Both are just about 6′ tall. Both are fit, nicely muscled but not massive. Kerry has a known history as an accomplished high school wrestler, which might tip the scales, but face-to-face the two seem closely paired.

The fun for me, of course, is the story itself. It’s not just about who would win when pitting two celebrities against one another in an NHB match-up. It’s the delightful journey along the way that tweaks my kink for homoerotic wrestling. The story that has emerged from my imagination is that Ellis is a dark horse in the competition, seeming clearly outclassed, under-confident, and hiding something that the rest of the applicants are fiercely determined to uncover. Kerry has had his sights set on beating that secret out of Ellis from the first moment that they met, and he’s ready to illustrate his abundant skills in breaking down recalcitrant talent by humiliating Ellis in every way he can. Once again the executive assistants on the hiring committee have their role to play in the unfolding drama, which leaves one man destroyed and the other significantly dehydrated. Hopefully the semi-final round will begin to be posted soon, now that four of the initial hopefuls have been shoveled into the trash heap.

The Title Defense

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Rusty Stevens has been in possession of the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy for a little over three months. At 6′ and 200 pounds, Rusty is an astonishing hunk of grappling stardom. The tale of the tape shows Rusty’s undeniable strengths are his whip-like, on-your-feet-and-in-your-face dominating banter, his primal, ferocious growl when he kicks it into fifth gear, and his mouthwatering body that supports impressive speed and strength on the mats. Three months ago he ripped the title out of the hands of two-time champ, Mitch Colby, leaving Mitch stunned and hungry for a 3-peat claim on the title.
Enter the genius of Kid Leopard who specializes in making all of our wrestling fantasies come true. BG East arranged a head-to-head title defense of the champ and his #1 challenger. I don’t often get to enjoy my favorites in action with one another. I’m infatuated with stars from various production companies, of varying wrestling styles and genres, and the battle in my mind for who is my favorite is usually waged only in my own imagination. When I learned that Rusty would be defending his title in person against Mitch, I was giddy with anticipation.


I’ve watched the match repeatedly in the few days since it arrived. True enough, of the Breaking Point matches, it is, indeed, the sexiest. Rusty plays his strong suit like the defending champ he is as he walks into the room. He’s sneering and snarling his insults from go, working on beating down Mitch’s psyche by zeroing in on Mitch’s weaknesses. When he’s getting manhandled, true to form, Rusty taps into his inner neanderthal, his eyes glazing over with rage as primal, sexual ferocity roars from deep in his chest. And Rusty is in excellent shape. In fact, of the range of Rusty’s physical form over time (a little beefier in most of his Naked Kombat matches vs. a bit thinner and prettier in his earlier Can-Am bouts), I think he’s looking about as deliciously toned as I’ve ever seen him.

The most stunning factor as this match opens is Mitch. He’s not in the ripped-to-shreds shape of any of this prior matches. He’s even softer around the middle than his Naked Kombat appearance, which was the biggest I’d ever seen Mitch in action. With the extra weight on his 6’2″ frame, he’s moving a little slower (though speed has never really been his strength). Like a cruise missile, Rusty throws contempt at Mitch’s fitness, calling into question whether the challenger has it in him to go the distance.
I’m sure I’ll deconstruct this match-of-my dreams several times over on the pages of this blog, so let me just give you the most significant points that add up to the final decision in this title defense match. While I have a nostalgic preference for Mitch’s trimmer form, he’s still a sexy beast in this bout. Rusty is hardly a small man, but Mitch dwarfs him in a way that’s smokin’ hot. Nine times out of ten, when Mitch is serious about it, he muscles Rusty into nearly any position he wants to. When Mitch drops his ass down across Rusty’s chest as the champ lays flat on his back getting schoolboyed (he hates that), Mitch is one tasty main course of muscle domination. The series of very long-held bearhugs (front, back, side, everywhich way), are evidence that Mitch remains as strong as an ox and easily able to dish out crushing punishment as needed. Despite his fitness being a strike against him in my book, Mitch puts up one fantastic performance capped off with taking his competition commandingly in hand.
For the champ’s part, looking up at the hulking form in front of him, Rusty seems just a little thrown. He still delivers the snappy, domineering banter that propelled him to the top of the charts, but he doesn’t deliver with quite the biting cleverness he has in the past, which I credit to being seriously intimidated by how much space Mitch takes up in the small sun room. Still, Rusty delivers. Scrapping his way out of a tight spot with that primal roar, he makes me weak in the knees. He suffers better than I have ever seen him suffer before, which is a major advance for the champ in keeping his grip on the title. In the repeated crushing embrace of his challenger, Rusty sells with desperate choking and hacking, retreating to catch his breath with new found respect in his eyes for his competition. The camera work seriously plays into Rusty’s hands, as he works up a soaking sweat, making his spot-on competition form sparkle and highlight every gorgeous muscle.

In the end, though, the title defense is decided in my mind by the best line of dialogue I’ve heard delivered in a long, long time (perhaps ever). School-boying the challenger, his sweat soaked jock strap planted across Mitch’s forehead, Rusty buries Mitch’s face with self-congratulatory satisfaction: “I’m thinking you may want to say you give… but then again, my ass is in your face.”

And with that, despite a valiant, commanding challenge from the contender, even despite forcing several more submissions and sealing the deal with sexual domination… still… Rusty decisively retains the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy. I think the defeat leaves Mitch vulnerable to getting knocked out of the top rankings, marking a stunning plunge from the top spot he commanded for most of the past year. I have no idea who might be ready to unseat the former champ from his coveted #1 contender spot… perhaps Derek might make a another seat soaked, punishment-whore run. I’d love to see Rafe Sanchez command the respect that he has yet to be given. Perhaps even a dark horse rookie, such as Naked Kombat’s delightful powerlifter funnyman, John Magnum, might smack Mitch’s ass on his way to dislodging the former champ from his ranking. Two things are for sure, though. 1) Rusty and Mitch’s Breaking Point match is profoundly satisfying homoerotic wrestling kink entertainment. And 2) a lot of homoerotic wrestling pornboys will now be gunning for the disappointed former champ now.

Totally Grabs Me

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In the company’s yahoo discussion group, fans have been pleading for BG East to branch out into more customized and e-delivery formats of their homoerotic wrestling products. So Kid Leopard and crew have just released a match by match compilation, offering fans the opportunity to buy all three matches in “The Breaking Point,” or buy matches individually. I’m skeptical of this arrangement on a couple of points. For one, it doesn’t really address the e-delivery issue. I’m positive that I’m not alone in saying that I’ve been trained in recent years to expect instant gratification with the click of a button. Waiting for a DVD to arrive in the mail a week after I’ve clicked seems like an eternity, particularly when it’s a product I’m really randy for. That’s the case whether it’s a DVD containing one match or three matches. And then there’s the second, perhaps even more crucial point of skepticism for me:

Joe Robbins’ ass. It’s not that I think that the marketing strategy of BG East should be built entirely around Joe Robbins’ ass (though I think that would still be a profitable venture). But frankly, I haven’t been enticed by the stills of Joe to check him out before. There’s something that hasn’t reached out and grabbed me when I’ve seen pics of Joe in action in the past. Sure, he’s clearly huge and beefy, but for some reason, I just haven’t given Joe a second look. But when I purchased the Demolition 14 (primarily for Joshua’s bout with Austin, secondarily for Lon’s match with… well, anyone at all would do) I was introduced to Joe in action.

Sweet man alive! I am, as of today, a fan of Joe (and in particular, Joe’s ass). Joe delivers the only true “demolition” of this compilation, in my opinion, and there’s no better deserving trash that needs to be taken out than smarmy, ever overconfident, doe-eyed Kieran Dunne.

Joe simply delivers in a way that I wasn’t expecting. He doesn’t just demolish. He likes it. And when he wraps up Kieran’s torso between his gargantuan, massively muscled, thick as tree stumps thighs, Kieran screams and I go breathless.
Particularly at the point that he’s mounted the jobber from behind, squeezing his mile-long legs around Kieran’s sides with Kieran helpless on his stomach on the mat underneath, Joe becomes a headliner in my eyes. With his truly stunning ass propped up high, his trunks riding up just a bit, those round, muscled cheeks are incredibly satisfying. And the thing is, I’d have given this match a pass if it was a piece-by-piece deal. So I worry that if BGE goes all match-by-match, I won’t know what I’m missing, and worse, it’ll only be the headliners who ever get their time on camera. I think compilations work to introduce us to new talent and to make a market for upcoming talent that perhaps hasn’t had the chance yet to convince us to be fans. Of course, I entirely appreciate that each of us has his own tastes, and for those aching for match-by-match options, this new marketing turn is an answer to prayer. But as for me, I’m skeptical, because I don’t always know from website pics and text what it is that will totally grab me when I see it in action… just like Joe’s ass.

Casting Hits Continue

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I’m finally caught up on season 3 of True Blood, and I am one happy camper. At every turn, a new gorgeous hunk has been introduced. I’m still bitter about Mehcad Brooks’ character being killed off at the end of last season, but by my calculations, the addition of Grant Bowler and Joe Manganiello evens the score (yes, it takes the both of them to cancel out the absence of Mehcad… one for each of Mehcad’s massive, round pecs). Then add Kevin Alejandro, Theo Alexander, and James Frain, and True Blood’s hunk quotient is back in the black (a little ironically). All of this new hunk blood merely compliments the main course hotness of Ryan Kwanten, Stephen Moyer, Sam Trammell, Nelson Ellis, and Alexander Skarsgård. Finally, in the first four episodes we’ve seen the beautiful bare asses of Alexander Skarsgård, Stephen Moyer, Sam Trammell, James Frain, Ryan Kwanten (twice!) and depending on how you count it, Grant Bowler. Hands down, this wins the best hunk-casting for a television show… ever.
In addition to the very satisfying rear nudity, the two highlights among the new kids on the block, in my opinion, are Grant Bowler and Joe Manganiello. I’m a little torn as to which one is my favorite so far. In the spirit of everything in my imagination, someone has to be on top, and typically these sorts of situations are settled with a wrestling contest (again, in my imagination).
Massive, massive (did I mention massive?) Joe Manganiello looks like he could snap Grant Bowler into two pieces with a decisive drop into an over the knee backbreaker. Not many 6’5″ boys can pack on the astounding muscle mass and proportion that Joe is sporting. Picturing that body stepping over the top ropes and staring you down from across the wrestling ring would be an adrenalin rush of a lifetime.

Still, my money just might be on an upset victory for Aussie extraordinaire, Grant. Whereas Joe is almost too pretty to be believed, Grant looks like he’s built for serious business. I’d be tempted to sketch Joe as the (overly?) cocky, physically dominating juggernaut/face who’s never really faced serious competition until he climbs into the ring with Grant. Joe would probably play by the rules. When you can squash your opponents like bugs underfoot, why need to cheat? But I’d sketch Grant as an ice cold, calculating heel whose jaw might drop a little to be staring up at the behemoth in front of him in the center of the ring, but who would make it his personal mission to teach the big boy that no one, no matter how physically dominating, is invincible.

School’s in session, and someone needs a little corporal punishment.