The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

The face off between Brooklyn Bodywrecker and Guido Genatto was not a typical match for either dominant bear daddy. There was some tough back and forth early on in voting, but after some serious social media campaigning, BBW started to roll all over the Dirty Daddy. Read David’s blow by blow description of how he sees this match playing out, including some sweet, hard lessons learned by Guido for some of his well known indiscretions regarding letting his homophobia show (I’m sure he’s not the only one familiar with anti-gay slurs, but he did have the bad taste to pull them out in OUR ring). So there’s some kick-ass karma at play in picturing full throttle sex gladiator BBW beating him bad. The choicest part of David’s match description is when BBW scoops Guido’s worn out, naked body up, cradled across his chest, and then pounds him down into an OTK to wear out his cock and balls. David pictures Guido passing out in the end, but personally, I see Guido weeping and begging for mercy from his heel daddy, submitting everything, flat on his belly, locked up in a full nelson with BBW’s hungry cock knocking on the door.

With three victories under his belt, is BBW unstoppable? He’s wrecked the bodies of a variety of vicious heel opponents, but there’s a deep, deep bench of heels who almost certainly want their crack at him. But I think we’re going to have to pull from the top shelf of homoerotic legends to give BBW a serious challenge. And I can’t think of anyone more serious, more sadistic, more of a dominant sexual gladiator, more… vicious, than Kid Vicious.

On the left, muscle bear daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker (5’11, 190 pounds) vs. the viper Kid Vicious (6’1″, 170 pounds).

I have no idea who may win in the vote (vote below), but I’m sure a match between these two would be violently explosive. Share your thoughts about how the victor seals the deal in the comments below.

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

Some of the notoriously fierce Jonny Firestorm fans couldn’t help themselves but register their votes for Brooklyn Bodywrecker. That’s serious endorsement for BBW to keep rolling through the BBB heel competition! Check out David’s full force fuck stakes heel bash match description in the comments. I picture this as BBW in control the first and last thirds of the match, with Jonny working some of his pro heel magic there in the middle. But in the end, torture racked and cock throttled, sweat and tears pouring off him, Jonny cries and begs until BBW has added him to his stable of daddy’s boys. BBW collars him with a leash and makes him crawl on his hands and knees behind him as they leave the ring room.

While BBW has had his way with a couple of vicious heel cubs, how does he do against another undefeated, massively muscled notorious bear daddy? And who fits that bill better than Dirty Daddy himself, Guido Genatto? You have to ask yourself what the chemical composition would be when high impact indy pro power squares off against a legendary master of sadistic homoerotic domination. What do you answer?

On the left, defending the title for the third time, muscle bear daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker (5’11”, 190 pounds) vs., on the right, Guido “Dirty Daddy” Genatto (5’10”, 235 pounds).

Not that it needs to be repeated, but their are no rules, no ref, and knowing these two guys, no common decency. Just a ring, and the open question of who secures a submission or knock out to advance his claim to be the best heel of them all? Vote here, and comment below how you see this daddy-down playing out.

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

Brooklyn Bodywrecker did not take kindly to Kayden Keller’s expressed intention to unseat him as the hottest erotic heel in BG East history. BBW took the victory in the voting by 2-to-1. I never find Kayden sexier than when he has to dig his way out of a deficit, but he just couldn’t stand the onslaught of BBW’s sadistic erotic offense. Read David’s blow by blow of the action in the comments, because it’s dizzyingly hot. I picture the climax of this face-off including Kayden choke slammed repeatedly, and then spreadeagled across the ropes, hanging in a corner. BBW milks Kayden’s battered cock, and then force feeds him his own. I think he could knock Kayden out at will, but BBW wouldn’t be satisfied until Kayden has submitted, body and soul, pledging to obey his new daddy until the day he dares make another run to beat him in the ring. BBW hoists his new boy over a shoulder, spanking his naked ass as he leaves the ring room with a new acolyte.

On the one hand, who in the fuck can unseat BBW? On the other hand, have you seen the deep bench of nasty ass heels in the homoerotic wrestling business?! For the next match-up, I’m picturing a stark contrast of size, strength, and style to see if a super-popular pro-heel turned homoerotic legend can get under BBW’s skin. Kayden pulled off an upset in taking the BG East title as Best Heel from multi-winner Jonny Firestorm, so let’s see if Jonny can get double redemption here today.

On the left, defending his claim on the title, muscle bear daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker  (5’11”, 190 pounds) vs. on the right, Jonny “the Ballbasher” Firestorm (5’5″, 145 pounds).

The first to wring out a submission or knockout in the ring advances, but the real fun is in how it goes down. So vote here, and share your ideas about what turns the tables one way or the other.

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

Voting was very heavy in yesterday’s Battle to Be the Best Heel. With a fierce social media campaign, Kayden Keller made certain it wasn’t even close. It’s the equivalent of wrestling match with some legitimate back and forth offense, but soon enough, it was all going Kayden’s way. David wrote the entire match description in the comments, featuring a ton of low blows and dirty moves, apropos of a heel on heel battle. Personally, I picture this face off featuring a ton of Morgan monologuing, lording it over Kayden when he’s on top, dropping his endless, snarling references to being the “alpha dog” and the “real man.” So once Kayden has clawed his way back into the driver’s seat (which is the sexiest part of Kayden’s matches for me), he has to gag Morgan with his own trunks to shut him up. I picture Kayden sitting on the top turnbuckle with Morgan hanging, feet off the ground, from a suspended sleeper until he’s out cold. And then, on behalf of all of us who want someone to shut Morgan up, Kayden rouses him back to consciousness with his cock shoved down the Morgan’s throat. A naked pony ride (Mastodon ride?) around the ring with big Kayden’s cock pressed between Morgan’s hairy, muscled ass cheeks would leave that lasting impression that Morgan would need to never call himself “alpha dog” ever again.

In Kayden’s social media campaign to get out the vote, he mentioned his intention to officially take the title of the best erotic heel in BG East history from Brooklyn Bodywrecker.  So, who better to climb into the ring next to put The Controller to the test? Ignore chronology. BBW at his peak versus Kayden at his best. Who wins? And how?

On the left, out for his second victory of this competition, Kayden “The Controller” Keller (6’2″, 175 pounds) versus on the right, the prototype of muscle bear daddies, Brooklyn Bodywrecker (5’11”, 190 pounds).

In the ring. No rules. Victory by submission or knockout. Knowing the work of both of these hunks, I guarantee you the trunks are coming off. Vote below for who you think is the last heel standing, and share how you picture this being decided in the comments below.

The Battle to Be the Best: Heels

The competition was smoking hot and full of surprises when it came to settling the question of who is the best classic homoerotic wrestler. The dramatic finale was incredibly close, but in the end, muscle hunk Ace Hanson ripped the trunks off of Mikey Vee’s stellar ass and the title out of his hands to be voted The Best.

Since the BBB classic competition generated a lot of votes and inspired some sweet, sweet description of wrestling action, let’s tuck in to another elimination tournament to determine who, of a deep bench of vicious heels, is left standing in the end. The rules are the same: there are no rules, just like heels like it. The winner advances based on eliminating his opponent with a submission or knockout. I realize it’s a little iconoclastic to spotlight heel-on-heel action, but honestly, some of my hottest homoerotic wrestling fantasies revolve around the idea of a hardcore heel shocked, worn out, and whimpering at the mercy of his opponent.

The first two wrestlers to take their shot at being the best of the best heel are, on the left, BGE’s reigning Top Heel of 2017, Kayden “The Controller” Keller (6’2″, 175 pounds) vs. the Mad Monologuer Morgan “The Mastodon” Cruise (5’8″, 170 pounds).

Vote below for which hunk out-heels the other to stay in the running to be the Best of the Best Heel in the business.

Producer’s Ring: Evans vs. Engel

—continued from The News Division: Match 2

The News Division: Match 3

Evans vs. Engel

by Bard

EvansEngel.jpg

After Thomas’ defeat of Rob, Rob slammed doors and refused to make eye contact with anyone once they made it back up the cliff.  Rob showered off and then slammed his bedroom door behind him to sulk in seclusion.  The rest of the talent sat around the kitchen while Thomas took a long, hot shower.

“Holy shit!” Carter laughed while he munched on an apple.  “I did NOT see that coming.  Seriously, Thomas is one bad ass!”

“He shouldn’t have humiliated him,” Chris muttered.  He took a drink of water from his glass, then continued, “He didn’t have to humiliate him.”

“That’s just it,” Carter said with a smirk.  “I think he did.  I think when you scratch beneath the surface, Thomas can’t help himself but be a sadistic whore.  It’s fantastic.  Though I must say, I’m not looking forward to facing him on the beach.”

Just at that moment, Thomas walked into the kitchen with one white towel wrapped around his tanned waist and another towel in his hand, drying his hair.

After a moment of awkward silence, Thomas shrugged and left the kitchen to kick his feet up on a couch in the adjacent living room.  When the others heard Eli’s voice, they followed Thomas into the living room to catch the patter.

“Very impressive, Thomas,” Eli was saying, his face framed in the plasma screen over the fireplace.  “There’s a whole segment of our audience that is literally light- headed with pleasure over the way you dispatched Rob.  I don’t think any of us honestly expected such a performance.”

Thomas looked down and didn’t respond.

“Now there are only two competitors left to face off in round 1.  So obviously, Carter and Richard, you’ll be up next.  Like the others, you’ll be fighting for a two year contract, but unlike the others, your contract will be with me.  As freelancers, I’m sure you can appreciate what an opportunity this will be for the victor.  You boys don’t command much marketshare, yet.  So this battle will be your ‘coming out,’ so to speak, for a fan base to build your career on.  So don’t disappoint.  You’ll be fighting this evening at 8pm.”

“In the dark?” Richard asked.

“Under stadium lights,” Eli responded.  He smiled and winked, and the plasma screen went blank.  The boys sat in silence, contemplating what this venture was doing to each of them.

————————–

At 8pm, the sun had set across the ocean and stadium lights were illuminating the sandy beach beneath the cliff.  All six men had climbed down the steps.  Thomas tried to catch Rob’s eye, to catch a glimpse of whether there was anything of their friendship left to salvage.  But Rob refused to make eye contact, glowering at the backs of Richard and Carter as they walked out onto the sand.

The horn sounded from the cliff above, and the fighters immediately crouched to face off.  Carter was darkly tanned, shirtless and wearing a yellow speedo.  His body was shaved smooth, and despite the night breeze, he was already glistening with sweat in the artificial lights.  Carter’s upper body was well muscled, not massive, but hard.  His baseball biceps tensed and his hands were held palms up to his opponent in preparation for the initial lock up.  Richard had never seen Carter out of his clothes before.  As Richard scanned Carter’s dark body, his eyes froze for a moment as he took in Carter’s thick thighs.  Carter’s legs were huge and shredded.  His thigh muscles tensed in a crouch, each muscle group popped out powerfully.  Carter’s calves were wide discs, veins pulsing visibly through his taught skin.  Richard made a mental note to avoid being trapped between Carter’s legs at all costs.

Carter was smiling commandingly, obviously checking out Richard’s shirtless body, clad only in a purple speedo.  Richard stood several inches shorter than Carter and had a boyish face that Carter surmised probably caused people to underestimate him.  Richard was pale, with light brown, nearly blond thin hair across his chest and down his legs.   Richard had hard, sculpted shoulders and thick arms, and his wrists and hands were corded with muscle and veins.  Carter guessed, correctly, that Richard was a rock climber, with an upper body strength not to be taken lightly.  Richard’s legs weren’t nearly as developed as his upper body, though Carter noticed admiringly that Richard had a notable, round, ass underneath his purple trunks.

“I’m going to take this fight,” Carter said confidently.  “The only question left to answer is how do you want to go down?”

Richard’s eyes involuntarily flicked down to Carter’s powerful legs.  Then Richard looked defiantly into Carter’s eyes, “Fuck you, Carter.  Someone needs to teach you a lesson.  If you think you can take me, beat me in a test of strength.”

Richard held his hands in front of him, palms up toward his opponent, fingers spread.  Carter knew this was playing into Richard’s obvious upper body strength, but he slowly raised his palms, and interlaced his fingers with Richard’s.  Carter felt Richard’s thickly calloused palms and fingers grasping his own powerfully.  Simultaneously, both men flexed their shoulders, arms and wrists, applying pressure to twist each other’s hands backward in a painful wrist lock.  Carter was initially surprised that the two seemed evenly matched at the moment, both mean clearly straining, but neither opponent dominating the other.  Then Richard’s lips parted and a low gutteral growl came through his gritted teeth, and suddenly Carter felt his wrists being pressed backward at a painful angle.  Exerting his full strength, Carter was unable to counter Richard’s powerful arms, and he fell to his knees with Richard pressing down with his upper body weight on Carter’s hyperextended palms.

Carter gasped in pain as he stared at his hands, willing his strength to turn the momentum his way.  Suddenly he felt Richard’s palms begin to give, but just as Carter thought Richard’s strength was beginning to wane, Richard smiled down at him contemptuously.  Richard pulled their locked hands to either side in a wide arc, and then back around, maintaining his powerful grip, now in an underhand lock.  Richard lifted Carter off of his knees, bringing him to the balls of his feet with the powerful pressure hyperextending Carter’s wrists upward.

Just as Carter thought his wrists would snap, Richard again swung their arms to the sides in a wide arc, now applying pressure overhand, pressing Carter’s palms downward as Carter collapsed to his knees in the sand again.  Almost immediately, Richard swung their arms to the sides once again, commanding Carter back to the balls of his feet in an underhand lock.  Carter danced from foot to foot, wincing in pain and humiliated by his opponent’s complete control of him.  And then yet again, with a grunt, Richard swung their arms in an arc, forcing Carter back down to his knees.  Richard leaned heavily down ontop of Carter’s hands, which were painfully bent backward over top of his wrists.  Richard looked down domineeringly on Carter’s sweaty, tanned body quivering under the strain of Richard’s hold.  With a glimmer in his eye, Richard sensed that he could dominate Carter this way until Carter submitted or until he broke his wrists.

Just as Richard again pulled their locked hands around in a wide arc to bring his opponent back to his feet, Carter stepped toward Richard, pivoted, twisting their locked wrists and pulling their hands to Carter’s right shoulder.  With their hands still locked, Carter thrust his hips backward into Richard’s pelvis.  Both men bent forward, Richard extended across Carter’s broad back.  Carter launched his hips upward, pulling Richard’s feet off the sand, and sending him flying upended over Carter’s shoulders.  Both men released their locked hands as Richard fell awkwardly on his back in front of Carter.

Standing over Richard’s prone body, Carter planted his left foot next to Richard’s head and then drove his right knee downward onto Richard’s forehead.  As Carter stood again, Richard’s hands went instinctively to his throbbing head.  Carter stepped over Richard’s body, straddling Richard’s legs.  Carter grabbed Richard’s right ankle and pulled it straight up in the air.  Planting his left foot on Richard’s left ankle to pin it in place, Carter grasped hold of Richard’s heel with his left hand gripped Richard’s toes with his right hand, and then twisted the ankle painfully counterclockwise.

Richard screamed in pain, his hands shooting forward toward Carter’s back standing over top of him.  Richard felt like his right knee was about to snap apart.

In one swift motion, Carter pushed himself backward, still holding onto Richard’s right foot.  Landing on his ass, inches above Richard’s head, Carter folded Richard up tightly, with Richard’s right knee pinned against his shoulder.  Holding Richard’s foot in his right hand, Carter grabbed a handful of Richard’s floppy hair in his left and lifted Richard’s head enough to slide his crotch between Richard’s head and the sand.  Then Carter kicked his left leg high in the air, dropping his left heel down painfully into Richard’s lower abdomen.  Flexing his powerful, tan thighs, Carter locked Richard’s head in a vice like scissors, lacing his ankles around one another and pinning Richard’s torso to the beach while continuing to stretch Richard’s right leg up and over his head.  Richard was dazed by this onslaught, with pain shooting through his ankle, knee, hamstring, abdomen and head, while his crotch felt like it was about to be ripped apart in Carter’s grasp.

Carter smiled down at the top of Richard’s head, resting on Carter’s crotch, being squeezed between his upper thighs.  “I appreciate your desire to teach me a lesson.  I’m always willing to learn,” he said.  “But I’m thinking that I may have a few lessons to teach you.”

Leaning backward, Carter applied even more pressure on Richard’s quivering right hamstring.  “Your body can stretch farther than you think it can,” Carter lectured his opponent trapped beneath him.  “Your hamstring right now is quivering, Richard.  I’m watching it pulse and jump, all the way up to your fine ass stretched out their in front of me.  But even still, it can stretch farther.”  Carter pressed Richard’s leg a half inch farther downward toward the sand.

Richard moaned in pain, his voice muted by Carter’s thighs squeezing his face.

Releasing Richard’s head, Carter unlocked his ankles, maintaining his control of Richard’s right ankle.  Standing, Carter unfolded Richard’s body, drawing his prone opponent’s right leg perpendicular to the beach, with Carter straddling Richard’s torso.  Just as the pain in his hamstring was dulling into a throbbing numb for Richard, Carter launched himself backward, dropping to his ass again above Richard’s head and hyperextending Richard’s damaged right hamstring.  Richard screamed in pain, and Carter let go of the leg, throwing it forward to crash limply next its partner.  Richard’s eyes were closed, as he moaned and began to reach forward with both hands to massage his injured leg.

Gracefully, Carter hopped to his feet and ran around to stand at Richard’s feet, facing Richard’s body.  Carter leaned over and picked up both of Richard’s legs, spreading them wide apart.  Richard laid on his back, his eyes going wide in fear as his legs were held spread eagle in front of his opponent.  Richard screamed, “No, no, no!” as Carter laughed, then while holding his opponents legs wide, Carter drove his right knee into Richard’s exposed crotch.

Richard gasped as shooting bolts of electric pain tore through his body.  Richard was paralyzed, unable to inhale or exhale while pain gripped him.  Carter let Richard’s legs drop to the beach, while Carter dropped to his knees between Richard’s legs.  Carter lifted his own left knee over Richard’s extended right leg, straddling it, with his right knee an inch from Richard’s throbbing crotch.

“Lesson number two, Richard,” Carter said like a lecturing professor.  Carter gently, firmly pressed his right knee upward, putting pressure between Richard’s legs, just beneath his throbbing balls.  “Sometimes you can’t tell the difference between pain and pleasure,” Carter continued.  “At least, not if your doing it right.”

Digging his knee upward, massaging in circles the erogenous zone between Richard’s balls and ass, Carter leaned forward on his hands and stretched himself above Richard’s upper body.  Carter’s triceps popped out as he leaned his head downward to rest his lips on the center of Richard’s lightly furry chest.  Sticking out his tongue, Carter traced a tickling line across Richard’s left pec.  His tongue came to rest on Richard’s nipple, lapping and toying with it playfully.  Suddenly hard and erect, Richard’s nipple responded involuntarily to Carter’s tongue.  Carter pressed his mouth around the nipple, licking and sucking it, as Richard moaned and squirmed beneath him.

Still sucking, Carter’s eyes looked up at Richard’s face.  Richard’s eyes were closed, his mouth hung open in ecstasy, and tears dripped down his temples.  Carter shifted his weight to his right hand, drawing his left hand down to Richard’s crotch beneath him.  Still rubbing his knee in small circles between Richard’s legs and sucking on his nipple, Carter grabbed the front of Richard’s purple trunks until he had a firm grasp on Richard’s cock and balls beneath the straining purple fabric.  Richard moaned in pain, his cock still throbbing from the earlier abuse.  Carter massaged with his left hand, his tongue licked Richard’s nipple, and his knee massaged beneath Richard’s balls, as Richard came erect in Carter’s grasp.  Pre-cum was beginning to soak through Richard’s purple speedo, as he moaned and his eyes fluttered.  Richard’s neck arched backward as his fingers dug into the sand.

Carter lifted his head, still massaging Richard’s aching and ecstatic crotch.  “Richard?” Carter asked quietly.

Richard moaned deep in his throat.

“Richard,” Carter said more commandingly.

Richard whispered, breathless, “What?”

“Do you submit to me, Richard?”  Carter asked.

When Richard didn’t answer, Carter massaged his cock and balls harder.  Richard moaned at the intensifying pain and pleasure.

“Do you submit, Richard?” Carter demanded, suddenly squeezing Richard’s balls in a tight, painful grip.

Richard’s head sprung up as he looked into Carter’s face hovering above his chest.  His cock aching painfully, longing for the return of pleasure, Richard said, “Yes, yes, yes… I submit to you.”

Carter began to massage again more gently.  Richard’s phallus was fully erect now, the head poking out above the top of his trunks.

Forcefully, Carter commanded, “Say, ‘I submit, Mr. Evans, sir.”

Richard’s eyes rolled in the back of his head, his mouth hung open, as his tongue licked his dry lips.

“Say it,” Carter commanded, again squeezing Richard’s cock and balls.

Richard’s neck arched backward again, and he groaned, “I submit, Mr. Evans….. sir!”

“Good boy,” Carter smiled, as he brought his left hand up and tossled Richard’s hair.  “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

Carter climbed off of his defeated opponent.  Standing over top of Richard, looking down on the body stretched on the sand beneath him, Carter rubbed his own left nipple with his right hand, adjusting his stiffening cock with his left hand.

 

Producer’s Ring: Bamber vs. Penikett

The TV League: Match 1

Bamber vs. Penikett

by Bard

Eli Brody commanded the West Coast region as both political leader and entertainment industry Titan.  His empire was built on his savvy choices of what entertainment talent to promote, in what vehicle, and for how long.  His success was premised on one thing: produce the talent that made him hard.  The entertainment consuming public had never failed to follow where Eli’s cock led.

The talent could be made or broken by the likes of Titans like Eli.  So he was approached all the time by beautiful actors looking to make an impression.  Eli could pluck someone from obscurity and create a multimedia juggernaut.  He could also employ some mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to the careers of talent that seem to be stalling.  Eli sometimes found 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 maximize the ratings by exploiting the falling stars that the public has grown to love to hate.

Eli’s Vancouver studio office was situated in a dockside warehouse that looked more industrial than entertainment-industrial.  He discovered that his secretary had scheduled two back-to-back appointments one day that Eli had a hunch were marketshare gold.  Two actors were at the cusp of their breakout, and both were coming to Eli to make their pitch to become the next big thing.

Both actors, Jamie Bamber and Timoh Pinikett, had their first big breaks on the same TV show.  Both immediately generated a passionate fan following that only grew more intense as each actor appeared in less and less clothing as the series unfolded.  As the series came to its natural conclusion, both Jamie and Timoh 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 first found himself sitting across his desk from Jamie.  Jamie was pitching a new idea he had for a show, starring him, of course.  “It’s guaranteed to capture marketshare,” Jamie explained in his British accent.  “I’m in top shape physically.  I have my following from the last show.  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 he needed to time his counter offer just right.

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

“Jamie, I’m sorry that I’m so booked 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.”

“Sure!”  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.”

Eli walked to his office door to welcome his next appointment.  “Come in, Timoh.  I think you and Jamie know one another.”

Timoh walked in and looked at Jamie with a scowl.  “I thought this would be just you and I, Mr. Brody.”

“My appointment with Jamie went long.  In any case, I think perhaps the three of us may have some things we could talk about together.”

Waving Timoh into the seat next to Jamie, Eli sat down again at his desk.

“Gentlemen, I’ve got a can’t-lose idea for the both of you.  You’ve both made a splash on the market, but you split your audience.  Your last show polarized your consituents.  There are now Jamie-fans, and there are Timoh-fans, but not much crossover between the two camps.  Now we could give you each a new vehicle with the hope that you could translate to a larger fan base.  But I think there’s a better way to go.  I’m prepared to give one of you a contract for a can’t-miss serial featuring you, lot’s of skin, and guaranteed marketshare.  But 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.  “If you’re willing to fight for it, you’ll end up a winner out of this.  Are you both willing to fight for this, literally?”

Both Timoh and Jamie swallowed hard, then nodded.

“Excellent.  Be here tomorrow at noon.”


Tahmoh and Jamie arrived at Eli Brody’s warehouse headquarters in Vancouver the next day at noon.  Both men were nervous, unsure what Eli meant by being prepared to fight for their chance at a new vehicle for their careers.  Eli greeted them at his office door, but rather than welcome them inside, he directed them down the hallway.  Stopping at an unmarked door, Eli explained, “This is our locker room, gentlemen.  Go on in and you’ll find your gear.”

“Gear for what?” Tahmoh asked anxiously.

“The fight for the contract,” Eli explained.  “You’ll be fighting each other.  The first one to obtain a submission from his opponent will be granted the contract.  This will launch the victor into the stratosphere of television stardom.  You’ll command the pay and the audience to call your own shots for the next move in your career.  But only one of you will get a shot at that path.  It’s time to get suited up, now.”

Tahmoh and Jamie looked at each other, then walked into the locker room.  The walls were lined with gray lockers.  Changing benches stood about a foot in front of the lockers.  On two benches on opposite sides of the room, the men saw boxes, one with Tahmoh’s name and the other with Jamie’s name.  Each man opened his box and pulled out wrestling gear.  Tahmoh’s were red with a Canadian maple leaf across the abdomen.  Jamie’s singlet was blue with the union jack across the front and back.

Each man turned his back on the other 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, Jamie’s shoulders were sculpted, 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 overtop one another.  His round, muscled ass sat atop thick legs built for both sprint and distance speeds of an English footballer.  As Jamie 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 skin tight union jack wrestling singlet.

At the same time, Tahmoh was also stripping off his skin tight white t-shirt and jeans.  Tahmoh wasn’t as heavily muscled as Jamie, but well-muscled, just the same.  At 6’3″ he towered over Jamie.  His broad chest wasn’t as round as Jamie’s, but his muscles had a look of real work behind them.  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 Tamoh stripped out of his underwear and into his jock strap, his cock was considerably longer than Jamie’s.  He was naturally smooth.  Pulling on his maple leaf singlet, Tamoh adjusted his jock.

Both men looked at each other silently for a moment once they were dressed.  “Now what?” Jamie asked rhetorically.

“Gentlemen,” Eli’s voice came from a speaker overhead, “Exit the lockerroom through the door at the end of the room.”

Both men walked through the door to find a classic pro wrestling ring in a large open cargo warehouse.  Bleachers lined the walls on all four sides, but they were empty.  Eli sat on a wooden chair in front of the ring.  As the men approached, Eli stood.

“This is a treat for just a few of my most generous backers.  You’re being broadcast to a very select audience of fans.  This,” Eli pointed to the ring, “is your arena.  The winner will secure the submission of his opponent, and then take his prize.  Whenever you’re ready.”

As Tahmoh and Jamie approached the ring, 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 began to bounce from foot to foot, warming up his body.  Tahmoh shadow boxed in one corner, preparing himself mentally for what was to happen next.

“Ready?” Jamie asked after a few seconds of nervous warm-ups.

“Let’s do this,” Tahmoh answered.

The two men circled one another in the center of the ring.  Jamie dropped to one knee going in for a single leg, but Tahmoh hopped backward out of reach.

“You’ve done this before,” Jamie said with a smile.

“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.  Tahmoh collapsed on top of Jamie, grabbing him across the throat with his left forearm and squeezing by grasping his left wrist with his right hand and pressing upward.  Jamie began to choke and released Tahmoh’s ankle to try to pry Tahmoh’s arm away from his throat.

“You’re choking me,” Jamie coughed out.

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

Jamie twisted his head around within Tahmoh’s grip, releasing the pressure across his windpipe.  Already sweating with the initial exertion, 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.

Jamie lunged again for a leg, but this time Tahmoh saw the move coming.  Clenching both hands together above his head, Tahmoh brought his double fists crashing down across Jamie’s muscled back just as he was stretched out reaching for Tahmoh’s leg.  Jamie went crashing to the mat with a thud.  Tahmoh immediately brought his entire bodyweight down on one knee driving into the small of Jamie’s back.  He stood up again, aimed, and brought his knee again down with his full weight in the exact same spot.  Again, Tahmoh stood, took deliberate aim, and pounded his knee again into the weakened spot of Jamie’s lower back.

“Ahhh!” Jamie cried out in pain with the third knee.  Reaching backward to try to protect his lower back with his right arm, Jamie quickly found Tahmoh dropped to his knees next to him, grabbing his vulnerable arm with both hands and bending it backward in a painful hammerlock.

“Okay, I lied,” Tahmoh said quietly from behind Jamie’s ear.  “I have done this before.”

Standing up while straddling his opponent, Tahmoh gripped Jamie’s trapped arm with both hands and yanked hard upward, dragging Jamie’s body a foot off of the mat dangling from his precariously twisted shoulder.  As Jamie screamed in pain, Tahmoh drove him back down onto the mat.  Then Tahmoh placed both hands on Jamie’s hammerlocked arm and kicked his feet up in the air, doing a handstand, then balancing his full bodyweight down on Jamie’s nearly dislocated arm.  Tahmoh maintained the pressure balanced in his handstand for a few seconds, then again dropped his right knee down into the weakened small of Jamie’s back.

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.  “The way I see it, you’ve got three options right now.  You can submit, and this is over.  I can break you down quickly and really injure you.  Or I can pick you apart, piece by piece, until you can’t move.  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 my 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 was pulling his knees underneath him into a kneeling position and balancing 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.  Jamie’s nose snapped, and blood flew through the air as Jamie landed on his side on the mat.

Grabbing his dazed opponent by the hair again, Tahmoh dragged him up to his feet.  Scooping through Jamie’s legs with his right arm and grasping his neck in the crook of his left arm, Tahmoh raised the stunned man up to his chest.  Tahmoh looked down at Eli, watching intently from outside the ring, and then paraded Jamie’s battered and vulnerable body around the ring.  Stopping in the center of the ring, Tahmoh lifted Jamie high up on his chest.  Then dropping to one knee, Tahmoh drove Jamie’s already weakened small of the back down across his outstretched knee.  As Jamie cried out in pain, nearly split in half across Tahmoh’s knee, Tahmoh grabbed Jamie’s left ankle with his right hand and grabbed Jamie’s chin with his left hand and pulled each end of Jamie’s body harder across his knee.

Crying out in pain, Jamie flailed with his hands, smacking at Tahmoh’s grasp.  Tahmoh released Jamie’s ankle, and then brought his elbow down into the tightly muscled abdomen stretched out across his knee.  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.  Submit, or I’ll break you down in a new way.”

Blood pouring down his face, Jamie spat blood, then weakly replied, “Fuck you still.”

Cradling Jamie in his arms, Tahmoh lifted the broken star up in the air again.  “Moving on, then.”  Twisting his body to bring 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 got to his feet.  As Jamie writhed in pain on the mat, Tahmoh waited until Jamie was turned on his side.  Then kicking him over on his stomach, Tahmoh straddled his prone opponent.  Reaching down and grasping Jamie’s chin from behind, Tahmoh leaned back, securing Jamie’s muscled arms trapped across Tahmoh’s thighs.  Using his height to its full advantage, Tahmoh leaned back, 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 further, Tahmoh used his full bodyweight to put maximum pressure on the small of Jamie’s back.

“Ahhhh!!!!”  Jamie cried out in excruciating pain, blood pooling on the mat beneath his broken nose.  “I can’t take it anymore!  I submit!!!”

Tahmoh maintained the hold long enough to look over his shoulders and make eye contact with Eli.  Then he dropped the defeated man face down on the mat.  Coated in sweat soaking through his red tights, Tahmoh breathed heavily as he approached the ropes above where Eli sat.  Resting his weight on his arms across the top rope, Tahmoh looked down at Eli.  “I’ll take my prize now, Mr. Brody.”