Eye of the Cyclone’s character Exile combines several sexy fantasies all rolled up into one homoerotic hunk. His back story is that he was Billy, a straight-A university student who accidentally zapped himself into another dimension. Trapped in a fascist universe, he was disciplined and brainwashed into a sexy-assed motorcycle cop with superpowers including a laser motorcycle. Upon the end of his natural life in this alternate universe, he reverted back to his original life as a uni student, but now with the experiences and powers of a lifetime lived as a hardcore trooper warrior (with a killer hot bod).
So let’s count up the hotness. 1) Nerd hunk. 2) Hot cop. 3) Magical crotch-rocket. 4) Tragic bad boy backstory turned mysterious hero. 5) Rockin’ bod in skin-tight supersuit. It’s like Eye of the Cyclone dug down into my subconscious and fished out precisely the combination of guilty little pleasures necessary to make my knees buckle.
Speaking of my subconscious, Exile is featured in Eye of the Cyclone’s newest serial, “Snake Charmed,” cleverly playing off of Freudian theory to draw double (perhaps triple) entendres to both terrify and titilate me. Let me lie down on my couch and explain what I mean…
I’m terrified of snakes, as in, clinical phobia, full on panic attacks, cold sweats. I close my eyes when there are snakes in movies. Occasionally, I have to push mute if there’s too much spine-wrenching hissing. Of course you and I know the Freudian significance of snakes. Same as cigars. And trains. And the Washington monument. So go ahead with the jokes. A ‘mo with a phobia of the metaphorical phallus. It’s embarrassing…
So imagine the deep ambivalence I feel when I see Exile with his bulging muscles and highway patrol reflective sci-fi sunglasses suddenly attacked by 3 massive, flexing, aggressive snakes. There the stud was, showing up for a photo shoot for charity (sign me up for that beefcake calendar!), only to be swarmed by paralyzing phalluses grinding into every inch of his hotly muscled body. Wildly aroused and hyperventilating at the same time seems dangerous.
The story is just one chapter in, so I’m dying to know what happens to Exile next. I’m desperately hoping that this dreamboat nerd hunk manages to get his mojo back and tame the hungry serpents, though I’m aching to see Exile’s own trouser snake join in on the fun. As a wrestling fanatic, I’m also hoping that there are human hands involved in this confrontation, with my money on the fashion photographer as an undercover hardbodied super villain with a fetish fantasy involving dominating a hot cop. The line starts right behind me, buddy!
Our man inside BG East, or as one insightful observer recently referred to him, “OMI,” sent me a batch of catalog 103-related behind-the-scenes snapshots. These were actually sent before the release of catalog 103, but they got buried in my email while I was knocked down with an early spring illness. Happily, I’m getting back on top of things after my recovery, including digging out these hot pieces of awesome contraband smuggled out from the BG East camp. I have still heard no word of OMI’s unmasking, although my offer of a free dinner should we ever meet in person still stands. That is, he gets a free dinner from me if he isn’t drawn and quartered by the powers that be at BG East first…
If only this was self-snapped by bespectacled Kid Vicious, I’d argue this could be the homoerotic wrestling equivalent of Ellen’s Oscar’s selfie. As it is, this shot of Jonny Firestorm and KV manning the cameras with golden boy Austin Cooper in nothing but his underwear looking over the shoulders is still an incredibly hot, somewhat novel collection of devastatingly sexy man meat! The three of them look chummy, which may explain Austin’s fantastic heel turn a while back which he OWNS like a champ in his newest release, absolutely carving up newbie Leo Tomassi like a turkey dinner in Jobberpalooza 13. It seems like Austin is teetering on the edge of giving his hot pecs over totally to the dark side, and personally, I hope he keeps this company pictured here. More bad influence from two of the top heels in BG East can only promise more fantastically cruel performances from golden boy body beautiful heel Austin.
Along the lines of “the company you keep,” here’s Austin’s Jobberpalooza victim, Leo Tomasi, showing off his rippled abs with adorkable rookie Ty Alexander ready for stills. If Austin is getting his marching orders from Jonny and KV and Leo is getting introduced to the scene from crushable jobber-rising Ty, the handwriting was on the wall way before Leo got bullied and literally bloodied by relentlessly cruel Austin.
Here’s a pre-match photo of another golden boy muscle stud who appears to be making a play for turning his career around by dipping deep into the dark side of the Force. Did you see Braden Charron’s work with pretty Pete Sharp in Jobberpalooza 13?! Holy shit, I was completely blown away and shocked. I did NOT see that coming. Until now, Braden has been a tad too pretty, too sexy for his own good. All that mouthwatering meat and beauty have done nothing but draw out some of the most vicious and sadistic performances in even BG East’s babyface ranks. I saw a whole mountain of gorgeous hurt heading his way when I noticed he was to be Pete’s first ring opponent, because Pete may be pretty as a peach, but he’s also been incredibly dangerous in his first two outings on the mat. But wow. Just, wow! Braden pulls off what I have to think of as an upset, despite his extensive experience advantage, and watching him make every luscious inch of pretty, pretty Pete suffer is phenomenal! Pete’s got serious repair work to do on his rep, while Braden has convinced me he’s a lot more than a pretty face and a mouthwatering cock!
And again from Jobberpalooza 13,Guido Genatto came damn near close to literally breaking poor, insanely pretty Kip Sorrell. Seeing Guido stretched out on the couch, bespectacled, checking his email, with Ultimate Warrior (RIP) nestled between the tree trunks he calls his thighs, you’d never suspect the boiling rage he’s about to tap into the second he sees the very definition of a pretty boy, Kip, lacing up his boots. This is one of those matches where I get sucked in so deep that I grow genuinely concerned for Kip’s life and limb. Guido turning outmatched Kip into a little more than a life sized Ken doll, to be manhandled, manipulated, and humiliated like a despised plaything, is insanely sexy. Between Kip’s devastated gym body and Guido’s gargantuan, power packed physique, I can’t decide which I want to lick more, the mammoth crevice between Kip’s pecs or the lightly hairy expanse of Guido’s beautiful belly. Fuck that, let me trade places with that Ultimate Warrior pillow. NOW!
OMI has got testicles the size of beach balls! He’s slipped us a behind the scenes photo of the franchise himself, Kid Leopard, ready for taking stills and Jonny Firestorm, well… um… flat on his back, hands behind his head, apparently “on break.” For Jonny’s sake, I hope that’s a sanctioned nap-time.
Finally, OMI slipped out these two photos of rookie Kayden Keller looking handsome as hell and ready to unwrap like a Christmas present. The second shot, I notice, is a selfie, meaning that either OMI is Kayden or OMI has access to download photos from Kayden’s phone. If we hear that hot rookie heel Kayden is cleaning BG East toilets with his tongue in the near future, perhaps we’ll have finally learned OMI’s true identity. I hope not, though, because I imagine that might also be the last contraband we get from him. One way or another, I think OMI either IS Kayden, or OMI really, really like’s Kayden’s hot rookie body! Or both. I’d understand, either way.
This week I had the great pleasure to enjoy my second-ever “dinner with Dumont.” Before you ask, 1) no, there was no wrestling involved, 2) Lon wore baggy jeans and a fantastically tight, long-sleeve t-shirt stretched awesomely over his bulging pecs, and 3) this time I got a keepsake photo of the two of us that is instantly in my top 5 favorite possessions. Back to the narrative, the long-time favorite homoerotic wrestler of mine was back in my neck of the woods and fulfilling fan fantasies by treating me to dinner. That’s right, stud puppy extraordinaire and perpetual infatuation of mine, Lon Dumont, picked up the tab for dinner! Honestly, I believe that most people who I know well enough to treat me to dinner would describe me as clever, witty, and an engaging dinner date. But sitting across the table from a homoerotic wrestling infatuation like devastatingly hot Lon Dumont, I turn into a stammering fanboy.
All I can see is devastatingly brutal Lon staring an opponent into quivering submission!
It’s like seeing double-vision. There’s this engaging, cool guy in front of me, and I’m also seeing Lon Dumont, body beautiful wrestling heel flexing his champion biceps in some lucky opponent’s awed face. Lon assured me that he has plans to be back through this way in a few months, raising for me the question of how many times would it take to have dinner with Dumont before I’m desensitized to the awe of it all and can be as engaging a dinner partner as I normally am (or like to think of myself as)?
Kid Vicious talks my language, except for the fact I’m completely tongue-tied.
It’s certainly happened to me before. On my pilgrimage to Pembroke, I got to meet and eat with some of the hottest wrestling heels to recur repeatedly in my fondest homoerotic wrestling fantasies on camera and in my imagination. I had questions prepared. I was planning on documenting the conversations to share, in my typical overdrawn and pedantic way, with all of you. And then there I was, talking to Kid Vicious, who was engaging, thoughtful, and downright philosophical in parsing apart the politics and polemics of homoerotic wrestling. In other words, he was talking my language! But there I was, stumbling over my tongue and finding myself with clinically diagnosable aggressively intrusive thoughts, in particular picturing KV stripped down to trunks and threatening to tear an opponent’s balls off.
Those forearms are HUGE!!!
Same lunch, same place, and Jonny Firestorm was the same way. Chatter, shop talk, the awkward revelation that Jonny doesn’t follow neverland closely enough to realize he was at one point my homoerotic wrestler of the month. So many opportunities to ask an insightful question, probe as the investigative blogger I imagine myself to be, and honestly, the only thing I could do was stare in awe at Jonny’s gargantuan forearms and picture him wringing the life out of hot piece of jobber meat.
Is it possible to graduate from fanboy to fellow human being? With images like this from Kid Leopard’s catalog, I’m not sure…
Not surprisingly, the worst was meeting Kid Leopard. By “worst,” of course, I mean, the most paralytic for me, a completely awestruck, drooling fanboy. KL was a fantastic host, showing me around the grounds, letting me see where the magic is made in the ring, on the mats, in the gazebo, in the wrestle shack. He was generous and engaging, and I felt like I couldn’t string together more than 3 words at a time. Is English my first language? Why do I suddenly have a 3rd grade vocabulary!? Holy fuck, I just kept swallowing hard, completely at the mercy of the image of KL prying apart some fabulously hot hunk playing on repeat from my memory.
Hopefully, I’ll keep getting opportunities to meet these men of my wrestling fantasies, and hopefully, someday, I’ll be able to pull off more than just the thick-tongued stammering of a star struck fanboy.
I don’t have to tell you that I have my favorites. My fancy does flit from time to time, but there are some regular objects of my adoration that stay firmly rooted in my homoerotic wrestling fantasies. I cannot stress enough how thrilled I am to report that two of those perennial fantasy men face one another in BG East’s recently new release Gazebo Grapplers 16. Lon Dumont, long-time holder of the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler and past winner of wrestler of the month, climbs out of the ring and into the Gazebo to face Denny Cartier, two-time homoerotic wrestler of the month and fanastically intense mat specialist.
Lon hits the mats and takes on muscle mat man Denny Cartier.
Seeing Lon barefoot for the first time just about does me in within seconds of this confrontation starting. My #1 pro wrestler turned bodybuilder turned homoerotic wrestler (not that I have a title for that, but really, who else is there to compete!?) is in his shaved head and insanely lean, competition ready form. And I kid you not, the fearless lightweight bruiser looks downright nervous stepping onto the mat! The undercurrent of vulnerability lying just beneath the surface of Lon’s irrepressible invincibility, paired his bare feet, are incredibly hot.
Denny is built for making men scream.
Denny is a work of art in a totally different way. Where Lon is aesthetically gorgeous, with a body crafted by a fine artist, Denny is functionally sexy as hell, with a body forged by a hardcore artisan. Denny is powerful, with muscles pounded into their bulging, beautiful form by years of amateur wrestling and MMA. There’s a luxurious thickness to Denny’s physique that stands in stark contrast to the whittled, diamond cut leanness of Lon. I’m enthralled by this contrast, and if I had to choose just one of these studs to worship, I think my head would explode trying to decide which.
Lon’s power and beauty leave Denny (and me) breathless!
I’m also blown away by Lon’s offense. He translates the mastery of a pro wrestling heel to the Gazebo mats with amazing skill. Confident, smirking Denny is leveled by sucker punches and knees to the gut. All of Denny’s flexibility and speed sort of whimper and writhe impotently early going as Lon grabs the momentum with both hands and throttles it with the tenacity of a badger.
When Denny’s mat expertise finally comes clawing it’s way on top, again I’m stunned by the way he displays the award winning physique of his screaming opponent. He repeatedly comes close to ripping Lon’s legs off at the hip, giving a stunning look at the bodybuilder’s quivering groin. And just to prove that he’s not in the least intimidated by the wall of deeply ridged abdominal muscles staring at him, Denny digs his elbow deep into Lon’s core, determined to shred the hunk’s strong suit.
Lon has to dig deep to knock the mat specialist off his game.
But regular readers will not be surprised by my deep satisfaction and arousal at watching Lon finally pull his gorgeously hot ass out of the fire and go ape shit all over the overwhelmed mat specialist. His fingers dig so deep into Denny’s luscious pecs that I’m left wondering is he’s going to claw the tattooed hunk’s heart out! Lon doesn’t just wring the most submissions out of his withering opponent, he sucks the life out of him, leaving stunningly hot and dangerous Denny melted into a pool of agony. I honestly didn’t know what to expect from this pro wrestler vs mat specialist on the mat match, but I didn’t expect the way Lon owns the Gazebo and stunningly weaves every natural strength he has into this novel setting. The attitudes are intense. After stunningly hot silence early on, the trash talk finally starts to pick up, including Denny getting stokes into some cocky crowing. Schoolboy pins with lovely packages delivered right to the doorstep of both stud’s chins transport me. I absolutely love this concept (pitting different combat styles against one another), and Denny and Lon sell it like I’d expect these perennial favorites to do it: all in, sexy as hell, and leaving me breathless!
Lon keeps bashing until Denny is literally left defenseless.
It blows my mind that it’s been over two weeks since I last posted here at neverland. So much has happened! I had an upper respiratory infection that, combined with my asthma, put me on my ass hard (no worries, all is well now). I completed my taxes and am now anxiously awaiting a refund. Facebook reminded everyone that yesterday was my birthday, and my thanks to all of you who wished me well. And to those of you who didn’t, don’t think I didn’t notice (just kidding… I’m the worst offender when it comes to missing birthdays). Actually, I got this sweet slice of hotness from Ty Alexander, who took my hint that I’m driven a little wild by a hot boy in wrestling gear and specs.
Specs, speedos, and a personalized birthday wish just for me!
And I should acknowledge that Drake Marcos sent me greetings and said he still had my Christmas present, which he offered to re-gift it into my birthday present if I wanted. Between you and me, I think this “gift” of his is all in his imagination, just like his promise to some day score a victory over an opponent. But if it’s the thought that counts, then the Cheshire Cat of Homoerotic Wrestling gets credit for creativity, if nothing else.
As to the central premise of neverland (hot homoerotic wrestling) I’m just now getting around to marveling at the gold mine that is BG East’s drop of catalog 103, Talk about a feast of mouthwatering goodness! I’m sure I’ll have plenty to say in the near future about several of these choice pieces of hotness. In the mean time, I’m looking forward to another year of breathing, another year of sucking down the best homoerotic wrestling I can get my hands on, and another year of broadcasting this inner monologue for your enjoyment.
I love the fact that BG East makes periodic excursions to the United Kingdom to scout out the hot wresting meat on that side of the Atlantic. The extended reach of BG East vicariously extends my appreciation for the breadth and depth of homoerotic wrestling, pulling me, at least occasionally, out of my provincial assumptions that have been pounded into me my entire life that the United States is the center of the universe. There are many of the Brit-finds from BG East that spark my imagination and generate a conditioned response in my crotch to an English accent growling, “Like that?” Yes, yes indeed. I like that.
Chris Xaos is one of the homoerotic wrestlers from across the pond who has squeezed his hot body into my homoerotic wrestling fantasies and put down permanent roots in my imagination. Early in his career, there was a brash, tatted, pierced street punk hit that I got off of him that was tasty. The official story is that he was discovered in a pub by Brit veteran wrestler Ty Garrison, or, rather, Chris “discovered” that he recognized Garrison and immediately let him know that he’d always wanted to have a go at him.
In other words, Chris Xaos was one of us long before BG East fans first got a look at the 6’1″, 170 lbs grappler. There was instantly something magnetic about him the first time I saw him wrestle. Despite his chaotic name, there’s a passionate, fierce methodology about him. He wrestles straightforward, always with a playful edge, and always paired with a dangerousness that is unmistakable. The stud is big and strong enough, and he delights in dominating enough, to do serious damage to any opponent not ready to match him throw for throw.
In his more recent releases, Chris has appeared more mature and with a goatee, both factors that exponentiate his magnetism for me. He officially graduated from boy to man when he showed up against fellow British fantasyman and favorite of mine, Rob Chandler in Motel Madness UK. That match is one of the most intimate, hottest motel matches ever produced. Chandler’s hard-on straining the fabric of his trunks alone signals exactly what the action is doing to me. The only thing missing is a bottle of baby oil and me!
There’s a rawness and ferocity about BG East’s British collection that is incredible, particularly as it’s paired with the variety of Brit and European accents that I, like so many Americans, find entrancing. Chris Xaos is all of those adjectives: raw, fierce, and entrancing. I only wish we could get him a green card to work more regularly on this side of the pond.
Today’s focus on fashion is a bit of a departure from the typical neverland Friday Fashion polls. I couldn’t help but notice on Facebook that Ty Alexander has quite a “thing” about selfies in an astonishingly diverse variety of wrestling gear. Through back channels, the BG East newbie stud confirmed that he goes crazy for gear and has an incredibly extensive collection of gear and even more extensive collection of self-portraits showing off the gear. So for today’s Friday Fashion installment, I sat down with the “Christian Lacroix of homoerotic wrestling” to get a little fashion advice from a studied aficionado.
Ty Alexander (5’7″, 150 lbs) is feeling, and looking, healthy.
Bard: Damn boy, you’re looking tastier by the minute. Is it my imagination, or are you pounding that pretty body into better and better shape?
Ty: Yep I have been working hard at the gym every day. Trying to stay healthy. And thanks, by the way. Appreciate the compliment.
Plenty to compliment.
Bard: Healthy looks really great on you! So how many items of wrestling gear do you own?
“Not even half” of Ty’s collection of wrestling gear!
Ty: Hmmm. Honestly, if I could give you a number I would. Best guess would have to be over 150. [laughing] I literally have all kinds of gear. Pro trunks, singlets, briefs, jocks, thongs even. You name it , I probably have it.
Bard: When and how did this fascination begin?
Gear makes Ty feels liberated.
Ty: When I was in high school. I always liked being in the speedos [laughing]. Felt liberating. And it just kind of grew from there. Also, all my favorite pro and indy wrestlers wear briefs [laughing]. I think the right fit can make anyone look hot. So I started wrestling privately and had to find interesting places to hide my gear. Weird thing is, with all my love of pro and pro gear, I have yet to get myself some dang boots!
Bard: I’ve never purchased wrestling boots, but I would imagine they’re expensive. What is your favorite gear to wear, and, conversely, what do you most like to see an opponent wearing?
Ty: I would have to say my favorite gear has got to be my pro trunks. I’m picky. I like my stuff to be loud and bright and showy. Usually something to make my awesome tan look even better. As for my opponents I like them in as little as possible [laughing]. But let’s face it , they won’t be looking as good as me. They can try, though it’s just not going to happen.
Working on that sexy tan in his “Ty-Dye” speedos.
Bard: You do have quite the sexy tan. So I hope this isn’t indelicate of me to ask, but does gear itself (wearing it, seeing it on an opponent) turn you on? Does gear itself have a fetish aspect to it for you, or are you more a collector for the sake of collecting?
Ty: It’s a fetish to me. That’s why I have so much! [laughing] I love the feel of it against my body in a match, and if my opponent is lucky enough to get the upper hand on me, I don’t mind feeling that either. Also I like to parade around and show off a bit. [laughing] Sort of a selfie addict. When I try on gear, gotta take a pic from every angle to make sure it looks perfect. Kinda hard not to on me though.
Self-described selfie addict.
Bard: Awesome. You’re most definitely not alone in nursing a gear fetish, I’m sure you know. You mention that you like your gear showy. Favorite colors, patterns, fabrics, themes?
Ty: [Laughing] Anything bright. Lime green, hot pink, purple, even some blues. Brighter the color the more I stand out. Patterns? It depends. Picked up this awesome “Ty-dye” mix the other day and really like it. I love the tribal look a lot, though. Gotta be one of my all time favorite looks. And you can’t go wrong by making it flash with some awesome shades. [laughing] I wanna make sure all the focus is on me, not my opponent in my matches, so the brighter the better.
Bard: Aha! Some strategy plays a part, as well as the turn-on of hot gear all by itself. So clearly this doesn’t apply to your fabulousness, but if you were doing a fashion consult with a homoerotic wrestler who had issues with aspects of their body, would you recommend particular gear choices for particular bodies?
Rook rocks a singlet.
Ty: I would have to say, honestly, wear what makes you feel good about yourself. I mean, obviously make sure it fits right. But who is to judge you? You are your own harshest critic. Though I would say I think a guy in briefs and brief pro gear gets my vote every time. Though I will say if you have bigger thighs go for briefs or long tights. You won’t have to worry about them squeezing the thighs as much and making them look funky. If you have pecs, I think a singlet works. Super hot to see the straps lifted away from the body because you have a pair of rock hard pecs!
Bard: Wise advice that’s also turning me on. Of the photos you’ve shared with me, what are the top 2 or 3 favorite looks you’re liking right now?
Purple and blue “tribal” trunks.
Ty: Hmm. I would have to say my blue star wrestling trunks and the purple and blue tribal. They look and fit awseome. And let’s face it, they make my butt look even more awesome. [laughing] Also my purple short side mesh briefs and my “ty-dye” brief swim suit.
Ty-Dyed
Bard: Well I’m not nearly the studied expert you are, but even I can tell those trunks all look stunning on you and your fine ass. I’m particularly a fan of the “Ty-Dye” suit. That gear definitely should appear in a backyard brawl sometime, preferbly first on your hot, tanned bod, and later stuffed down the throat of your opponent. Speaking of hypothetical future matches, is there anything you can tell us about what the future holds for you on the publicly available wrestling scene? Have you had the call from the boys at BGE to make your follow-up appearance to your Raunchy Rookies debut?
Ty showed “a small taste” of what he can do against Kayden Keller in Raunchy Rookies 7.
Ty: Ah, Bard, if I was to give away anything I think that the punishment would be pretty rough (though most likely I wouldn’t mind it that way). I can say that I can’t wait to show more in my matches as I grow. I think you got a small taste of what I can do against Kayden, and that the other stuff may surprise you even more. There are a lot of guys I hope to get in the ring and even maybe hit the mat with soon. I don’t wanna end up in the river with cement shoes like that poor guy who leaked those behind the scenes photos now, do I? [laughing] I can’t wait to get back, though. All the BGE guys are awesome.
Bard: I have a hunch we’ll be seeing the “Christian Lacroix of homoerotic wrestling” again soon. Thanks for the fashion tutorial, and especially for the graphic illustrations. Can’t wait to see you in action again soon!
Ty is a one-man homoerotic wrestling fashion show!
Ty: Thanks for your time, Bard. I love the site. Keep up the awesome work. It’s always a pleasure talking with you and sharing my stuff with your awesome readers.
I’m sure I was probably too harsh a couple of days ago when I took poor twink Hunter James to task for not enjoying his muscle worship session with Braden Charron nearly enough in Muscle Domination Wrestling’s Oil Hunks 2. Muscle Master Kevin himself had to comment that I probably got the wrong end of the stick, mistaking Hunter’s deer-in-the-headlights-nervousness with a lack of enthusiasm. Fair enough. It got me thinking about point-of-view. POV in a well-told story typically takes the reader into the scenario in some relatable way. The character from who’s POV the story unfolds is identifiable and comprehensible to the reader. We may not exactly embrace them, but sometimes the truly masterful story is the one that sucks us into the POV of someone we might otherwise think is incomprehensibly other to us (hello, Dexter). Like Hunter James in OH2, there’s a play on POV in many homoerotic wrestling products that pit a man of pure fantasy, ripped from the cover of a physique mag, unattainable like a star in the heavens, and pits him against an opponent who is relatable to the average Joe wrestling fan. The drama unfolds with the majority of viewers squarely in the back pocket of the average Joe, the Everyman. He may win or lose, compete or cave, but the story unfolds with us securely experiencing the scene from the POV of the boy who’s got to be thanking his lucky stars to get thrown into the deep end of the pool to swim with the gods for a brief moment in time.
Okay that’s certainly a look of pleasure on Hunter’s face when he obediently peels Braden out of his trunks.
Hunter James being dominated and “forced” to oil up and admire a naked Braden Charron is a case in point. Hunter is not a physique star. I’m not saying he’s not a handsome little piece of meat, but the contrast between his lean, undefined, attainable body and the bulging, tanned, impeccably groomed beauty of Braden is a contrast that seems to almost inevitably shove most of us into the POV of Hunter. That’s probably why I’m so harsh on him. I think of myself, briefly, vicariously, as him. I’d dig my fingers deep into those glutes when Braden demands that I spread baby oil across his ass, so when Hunter demurely paints on a paper thin coat by barely making contact with that ass, I want to slap the twink around. That’s NOT my POV, damn it. Enjoy it! Play with it. Thank your lucky stars and then dive in with both feet and celebrate the phenomenal physique standing there naked in front of you demanding your adoration.
Randy Dowell looks like he’s staring into the face of a Greek god as he kneels at the feet of Mark Merino.
I’m overemphasizing the attainability aspect of the Everyman, I’m sure. I’m not saying that a wrestler can’t look hot and still carry off the role of selling the average Joe thanking his lucky stars. Take Randy Dowell, for example, who in Wrestle Worship 2 had the stunning good luck to not only worship both Mark Merino and Stan Greer, but to watch, in awe, as Mark and Stan battled with one another over who’s hunky body Randy should worship last. The plain, cold truth is that Randy Dowell is a hot, handsome hunk in his own right. He’s not nearly as massive as Mark or Stan, but he’s fit, hard, and handsome as hell. But its context and sell that make him work as our eyes and ears (and mouth and nose and especially hands) in the ring, with the DVD promo letting us know that Randy is a fanboy who pelted BG East with a flood of pleas to get to meet gorgeous Mark in person. And Randy is thanking his lucky stars over and over, enthralled, enraptured, turned on like a light switch and hitting every mark that a muscle fan would insist on hitting when faced with the smorgasbord of beef set in front him.
Randy Stanton may not take possession of Mr. Joshua, but on behalf of us all, he gets an appreciative, lingering grope in of Mr. J’s amazingly hot bod.
Another Randy, Randy Stanton, similarly is in possession of a hot, fit, lean bod all his own, but the handsome hunk is absolutely salivating when he strolls into the BG East mat room behind none other than Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!). Again, context builds this narrative every bit as effectively as Randy’s awestruck and truly awesome sell. The match description explains that Mr. J is playing with fire, letting himself get picked up by star-struck Randy and offering up full possession of Mr. J’s phenomenal physique should Randy have what it takes to own it. Holy hell, what a concept! What a cocky sell both of Mr. J’s gargantuan, mammoth, oversized, mouthwatering massive ego (you thought I was going to say something else), as well as transforming hottie Randy S. into, well, you and me, another guy dizzied by Mr. J’s gorgeousness and slack jawed at the wide open opportunity to get his adoring hands all over that body, heart pumping with the possibility of tagging Mr. J’s ass and, more importantly, unleashing the beast that Mr. J infamously smuggles down the front of his drawers.
That average Joe Drake Wild is about to live the fantasy of so many of us, climbing to the top of Tyler St. James and planting his flag for all mere mortal homoerotic wrestling fans everywhere.
Can-Am pulled off a similar motif in their recent release of Pro Sex Fight 10. In this case, it’s much less about the context and the narrative off camera, and built almost entirely on the stunning, striking contrast between the two sex fighters, Drake Wild and Tyler St. James. Tyler is a fantasyman like few others. Tanned, impeccably toned, beautifully blue-eyed Tyler is posted at 6’2″ and around 247 pounds, while lithe, lean, pale Drake is reported to be somewhere in the vicinity of 5’4″ and a buck and a quarter or so. That alone sucks me into that ring irresistibly entranced by the David v Goliath implications, but even more so by the fantasyman v lean, brooding mini-twink. Visually, I’ve seen Drake’s sort out at the bars on plenty of occasions, including the attitude and the Napolean-complex-will-fuck-you-up-for-real stance. I can’t say I’ve ever seen a heavenly vision quite like Tyler in real life, much less had the opportunity to climb into the ring, call him on his shit, and both figuratively and quite literally fuck him up.
Mark Nelson gets exactly what he wants from Brooklyn Bodywrecker, including the slap on the face as he kneels at the feet of one of the most notorious heel daddies to have entered the ring.
My final example of a thank-your-lucky-stars boy who pulls this motif off persuasively is Mark Nelson’s fanboy meets his worst nightmare/fondest fantasy Brooklyn Bodywrecker in Demolition 3. Another fanboy granted his fondest fantasy, Mark is sucking down the humiliation and punishment of BBW like a parched bedouin in the desert. The tension of physical domination, of terror, of the battle of bodies and wills is no less present, and Mark is another hunky hottie, but the sell is all about the point of view of the average Joe who comes face to face with a real, life, towering homoerotic wrestling god.
Who’s your favorite Everyman wrestler and in what match?
Braden Charron is pretty proud of himself. Of course, he should be. Have you seen his physique!? But he’s proud of himself not just because he has the body that stars in a thousand gay men’s fondest fantasies. He’s also proud of himself for figuring out a clever way to scratch a particular itch. You see, he told his opponent in Muscle Domination Wrestling’s Oil Hunks 2 that he wanted a wrestling match with him. In fact, what Braden’s really itching for is a beaten-into-submission muscle worship session with the poor, lucky bastard forced to lather Braden’s bulging muscles in oil and give him all the adoration that Braden so richly deserves.
Hunter James starts with the calves.
Braden telegraphs that something is up when Hunter James shows up and Braden asks him if he’s ready to “wrestle.” Literally, Braden uses air-quotes around the word “wrestle.” Of course, Braden’s pre-match instruction for the kid to bring a bottle of baby oil might also have tipped Hunter off. To his credit, Hunter isn’t shy about immediately obeying Braden’s commands right off the bat, obediently breaking out the baby oil and startingto put a pretty shine on Braden’s hot body from the ground up.
“Take your time,” Braden has to tell him, because Hunter is in way, way too much of a hurry.
“So what I want you to do is take your time, get down on your knees, put some on your hands, and start from ankles up, one leg at a time, and take your time, cause I want these calves to start showing.” To his credit, the kid dives right into the opportunity.
Hunter’s look toward the camera could have been the cheekiest, sexiest nod to you, the wrestling fan jealously watching him get his hands all over Braden’s bod. But I think Hunter is actually either looking for stage directions or checking the clock.
Oil Hunks 2 is muscle worship punctuated by brief outbursts of entirely one-sided wrestling domination. Braden toys with Hunter, keeping the kid at heel with voice commands alone, but then relishing the feel of his slicked down muscles torturing the skinny punk in a camel clutch, a full nelson, body scissors. The precise formula is about 4 parts worshipping Braden’s beauty to 1 part suffering Braden’s punishing ways.
“Rub it in good!” Braden has to tell him repeatedly, because Hunter just isn’t feeling this moment the way you or I would.
“Rub it in good. Massage it. Rub it in real good. Enjoy it. Enjoy what it feels like to be rubbing a real man!” Braden coos deeply. Unlike the twink from Oil Hunks 1, Hunter doesn’t look like stroking Braden’s ego is heavy lifting. However, he doesn’t look like he’s enjoying it one tenth as much as I (or you) would. While I get a kick out of seeing the punk in total and absolute submission to Braden’s will from start to finish, Hunter doesn’t have to adjust his own crotch even once, despite rubbing baby oil all over Braden Charron! What the hell?
I know wrestling fans who would donate a kidney to take this ride!
“Many men would love to be doing what you’re doing right now,” Braden explains as he command Hunter to once again coat his phenomenal physique in baby oil, really rubbing it in to Braden’s beautiful glutes. And that’s the real rub, in the middle of all of this rubbing: although Hunter James doesn’t look like he minds this assignment, he doesn’t look the the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet. His ministrations are functional, but hardly enthusiastic. When Braden gives him a naked muscle posing routine to enjoy, Hunter calmly, perfunctorily mutters, “Yeah, that’s awesome.” Read that quote like the 80’s porn actor who discovers that the massively muscled and humungously hung pizza boy has an impulsive need to get naked and fuck. “Yeah. oh. yeah. that’s. really. great.”
Hunter just doesn’t earn this. He doesn’t deserve it. He clearly doesn’t appreciate the lottery he just won.
Braden Charron fans line up for a big drink of Braden right where you want him. Wrestling fans, buyer beware, because there’s zero “combat,” just a smattering of actually wrestling holds, and very little real heat. For my personal kink, I still think that MDW is waiting for the wrestler who can really pull this off on the catching end. Brad Barnes and Braden Charron as snarling, dominating muscle bullies is a fantastic innovation, but the Oil Hunks series is still looking for the playful, eager, I’ll-make-you-work-for-it-but-I’ll-be-thrilled-to-be-forced-to-worship-you costar to really turn this franchise into a barn burner. This is “homoerotic wrestling” fare in the technical sense, and there’s plenty of audience who will love the hands-on-Braden motif, but this doesn’t quite count as homoerotic wrestling (sans air quotes) for me. I hope MDW keeps at this nuanced alchemy, because the promise is golden, even if these first couple of attempts haven’t quite catalyzed.
It was another victory by a nose (or perhaps, a bulge), as Donnie Drake barely held off the legendary Lon Dumont to claim the title as he who wore those chartreuse and lime green trunks best. The vote as of my counting this morning was 63 votes for Donnie, 61 for Lon, and 9 votes for underdog Shannon “Ralph Nader” Embry. Donnie is a high profile hunk with a ton of raw pro wrestling appeal and a smoking hot body, so it should come as no surprise that he pulled off the win this time. However, I think in a 3-way ring tussle with Donnie, Shannon and Lon fighting (naked) for the right to don the gear, smarter-than-your-average-bear Lon would manage to split the tag team partners and pull off the humiliating 2-on-1 upset victory… but that may just be me.
That gear seems to have given Donnie’s opponents the green light to absolutely brutalize his hot, sweaty body in Tag Team Torture 8.
I don’t have any fashion smack downs on my mind this week, so there’s no new poll for you. However, feel free to recommend some showdowns for future weeks. Who had the audacity to wear identical gear, begging the question, who wore it best? Let me know what you think about Donnie’s victory this week, and give me a heads up about other fashion showdowns by commenting here.
Sidelineland 