Tag: Brooklyn Bodywrecker

Who’s Your Daddy?

wrestlebard4 Comments

I’m always impressed with the iconic stature of the Brooklyn Bodywrecker. I’m particularly impressed with how many young homoerotic wrestling fans are dialed in to his matches, considering it’s been a couple of decades since his last release from BG East. Take my young friend Harvey, who recently told me that Jobberpaloozer 5 was the first homoerotic wrestling match he’d ever watched. Harvey reports that he continues to watch it frequently, turned on every time by the legendary pairing of Brooklyn Bodywrecker, at the apex of his career as one of the most infamous leather daddy heels in the business, and Brendan Byers, confessing at the start of the match that this was the first time he’d ever set foot in a wrestling ring. There have been hundreds, if not thousands of homoerotic wrestling matches produced since then, including the stunning evolution of lean Brendan from his 20-year-old baby jobber incarnation into the big, muscle bruiser bad ass who just won the title as BG East’s Top Heel of 2024. But for Harvey (and many others), Jobberpaloozer 5 started wiring him for what continues to turn him on still today. When we were recently discussing the match, Harvey subtly pointed out that I’ve never written a review of it. So, in honor of Harvey and all the younglings (and the rest of us) who revisit Jobberpaloozer 5 often, here you go.

First of all, Brendan is nearly unrecognizable, if one were to only know him from the hulking muscle beast he’s grown into since. When he shows up for Jobberpaloozer 5, he’s lean and lush and cute as a fucking button. BG East puts him at 6’2, and he towers over Brooklyn Bodywrecker when the veteran struts into the ring checking him out. BBW does that same mental calculation I often find myself doing, trying to tamp down an instant turn on until I can check his I.D.. “How old are you? What, are you like 15?” When Brendan says that he’s 20, BBW can’t believe his ears? “Twenty!?” The salt-and-peppered veteran heel tugs on his leather jacket. “This is older than you are! Twenty?!” BBW is literally licking his chops at this point. Brendan plucks up the audacity to make an oldie joke about whether BBW is having problems hearing him. And fuck, you didn’t have to read the title of the match to know that this is about to turn into a massacre.

Stunningly, BBW offers a legitimate handshake of welcome to the tasty kid who admits it’s his first time in the ring. “You know I’m BBW, right? The Brooklyn Bodywrecker?” Brendan’s adorable game face cracks into a grin. He doesn’t have to say a word for the answer to be clear, but he admits it anyway. “I’ve heard.” BBW peels off his vest, his sun glasses, and his cap. He’s fucking peak BBW. Hairy and raw, looking like he just walked away from a bar fight, he’s fucking hot as hell. He’s got some gray in his goatee that gives this whole interchange the feel of the big bad wolf stalking Little Red Riding Hood through the woods. “Look, I’ll try not to hurt you,” he offers, flexing his hairy pecs. “We’ll try to have a good time,” he says with a disarming smile. “Just don’t fight me, kid,” he adds coldly, making it clear who’s about to have a good time and who isn’t.

There’s a coaching vibe for a few seconds as BBW talks the rookie through a collar and elbow. It’s almost adorable, really. Brendan’s long, lanky limbs flex as he locks up with the solid as granite muscle heel. About 3 seconds in, the “coaching” session is over, and BBW starts beating the living shit out of doe-eyed Brendan. If the veteran is holding anything back, I can’t see it. Sure, he pauses every so often to look into the camera and announce almost incredulously, “Cute kid!” But I don’t see him letting up on the gas pedal even a fraction, as he catapults the 20-year-old from corner to corner. It’s a lot of brute force pummeling, with punches and stomps and knee strikes pounding the snot out of skinny little Brendan. Brendan is just white knuckling it for the next 35 minutes or so, hanging on for dear life, while BBW remains absolutely in the driver’s seat with the pedal to the metal.

In classic Brooklyn Bodywrecker fashion, he frequently breaks the fourth wall. He’s knocked his pretty prey senseless, so he pauses to stare into the camera and have a leisurely chat with you and me. I’ve heard this approach is actively discouraged by most of the wrestling producers because it can disrupt the fantasy, but there’s something even more intensely threatening about it when BBW does it in his matches. “He’s cute, huh,” he asks you and me, stretched out over top of his oblivious opponent. “A little young,” he says thoughtfully, before adding with a mischievous smile, “but he’s less naive than he was two minutes ago, huh?” A little later, he’s been pounding the shit out of Brendan’s abs, trapped in the corner, when he pauses to call the camera over again. “So, boys and girls, don’t try this at home. We’re profe -….,” his voice trails off as he rethinks what he’s about to say. “Well, I’m a professional. And him?” He looks down at the sexy, dazed newbie. “Well, you gotta start somewhere.” Then he climbs the ropes to scissor Brendan’s head between his legs and flex his huge, veiny biceps.

Brendan is a lamb to slaughter. He just doesn’t see anything coming. BBW absolutely manhandles and mauls him with the relentless certainty of the rising tide. He smothers the adorable kid in his hairy pit, in his crotch, in his ass. He delivers a swarm of ring-rattling scoop slams that look like they might have left Brendan-shaped indentations in the ring. He’s got him spreadeagled across the ropes in the corner and place-kicks the future-brutal-one’s balls relentlessly. The repeated over-the-knee backbreakers that are nothing short of erotic sculpture, with BBW’s huge, hairy muscles flared and Brendan’s long, lean, lithe body twisted to perfection at the edge of snapping.

The squash is legitimately epic, but it’s the subtle things that make my cock twitch hardest. Like, when BBW pauses the brutality to just tauntingly slap Brendan in the face. Or when the muscle heel applies a spine snapping camel clutch and then slides his hands up from a chin lock to start clawing the cute boy’s face off. Brendan sells sweetly, groaning in agony in time with his panicked, labored breaths for about 35 minutes of near-hyperventilation. But it’s BBW’s sell that turns the heat way, way up. About 2/3rds of the way through the match, he starts roaring with this feral intensity that gets my already hard cock even harder. It’s the sound of a predator having made a fresh kill. It’s hungry and bloodthirsty, with this savage edge that says his cock is itching hard for a sexy, smooth, 20-year-old ass.

A tombstone pilediver puts the exclamation point at the end of this nearly 40 minute soliloquy. That tombstone didn’t just knock Brendan out cold. It was nothing short of transformative for my friend Harvey. I don’t think anyone could describe it in more loving detail than someone as fanatical about this match as Harvey is, so I got his permission to share his account of how he came across, and to, this moment. Here’s how Harvey puts it…

“So, picture a young gay boy who is super into wrestling and gets obsessed with the tombstone piledriver. I click on Google late one night and type “gay wrestling” into my mom’s laptop (sorry mom) and stumble upon BG East. I go into the search bar, and I type in “tombstone piledriver,” and this match pops up. I then rent the video, and slowly watch the eroticism unfold. Now, me being so young, I didn’t appreciate all the nuances about this match that I do now. But back to the tombstone…. So, when BBW had just knocked out young Brendan with a bearhug, he then looks at the camera and says, “What’s the expression” Then dragging a thumb across his throat, signals the end for Brendan, but then makes the same signal across his crotch. I knew we we’re in for a wild ride! BBW then picks up Brendan and asks him, “Let’s see if you you learned anything. I am Brooklyn Bodywrecker. Who’s your daddy?” Brendan replies with, “You are sir!” Then BBW looks at the camera and says, “Music to my ears.” BBW then hoists Brendan up and gets him into position. He always makes these noises when he lifts up opponents, and it’s so hot. It just reeks of domination, really. If you listen closely, you can hear Brendan moan, which only makes my dick moan, too. Then BBW pulls him up just a bit closer for safety, and to make sure Brendan is getting a full taste of his Daddy’s crotch. He walks Brendan around the ring until they are facing the mirror, which is such a Heel move, really. I love that BBW is always posing and making us appreciate his body! And, in a sense, he does that as well with Brendan, because he knows how much he and Brendan are hot together here. I also love the contrast of their trunks, because it shows off BBW’s best assets, and Brendan looks good in his sexy trunks. Then BBW goes up for the windup, which is very methodical, making sure Brendan gets plenty of time trapped there, before BBW drives the top of his head down and then sits bad to marvels at his work. [Harvey, aka, my Tombstone-obsessed friend]

So, Brendan was done at least 20 minutes earlier, but he’s knocked out cold and flat on his back, and somehow even more at BBW’s mercy than he has been the entire match. BBW pins him with his crotch, stretches out on top of him, nuzzles Brendan’s erection straining the boy’s pouch, and looks like he’s just going to tuck in and devour the lucky kid. The rawness and authenticity of the open lust is nothing short of magnificent. And then the genleman erotic gladiator quotes Shakespeare and leaves. “Goodnight, sweet prince. Parting is such sweet sorrow. That I shall say good night till it should be morrow.”

Like I said, it’s nearly 40 minutes of daddy domination. It’s iconic all on it’s own, but it’s made that much more fascinating by the evolution of that doe-eyed 20-year-old Brendan into the massive muscle brute who absolutely earned his status as reigning Top Heel last year. I don’t know if this ring initiation in Jobberpaloozer 5 was formative for Brutal Brendan’s sense of self as the raging bull he is today, but I know for a fact that there is a whole generation of young homoerotic wrestling fans who imprinted HARD on this sensationally intense, high impact, hard and hungry squash.

The Wish List

wrestlebard6 Comments

Brooklyn Bodywrecker has come up in a few different conversations with a couple of different people recently. Originally, I think I didn’t key off on BBW when I was first discovering homoerotic wrestling online, primarily because of my own stuff. There was something intense and intimate about the way he would growl into the camera and taunt me, like, personally. I mean, I know he was taunting all of the fans watching, but there was this intimacy about it, about his questioning my toughness, his calling me names, his threats to do bodily harm to me like he was beating the living fuck out of the opponent in the ring with him. I’ve come a long way in my feelings of security about myself, and along the way, I grew to really love that fierce intimacy BBW struck with every opponent and fan watching from this side of the screen.

When a friend asked me just the other day something about X-Fights 10, I had to admit I hadn’t seen that gem from, what, 22 years ago? I was told in no uncertain terms that I needed to rectify that situation. And, hell, now that I’ve watched X-Fights 10, I’m berating myself for having waited this long! This will not surprise regular readers, but holy fuck, do I love a through-story. And there’s this seamless, insanely sexy simmering, to boiling, to exploding evolution of the first match of X-Fights 10 into the second match. Literally, the through-story is Yves Larocque, who gets thrashed and terrorized by champion ring sadist BBW, and then dumped in the matroom for the “undisputed superstar of the SM underworld, Donnie Russo.” Honestly, at first glance, I was seriously hot and bothered by the gorgeously nasty heels. But about 3 minutes into his match with BBW, I absolutely fall in lust with deer-in-the-headlights Yves! The still photos do NOT do this hunk justice. Holy fuck, is he the compelling leather-harnessed lamb to slaughter!?

BBW explains to me, personally, at the start of this match, that Yves is one of the countless BGE fans to write in asking for a shot at his heel crush, BBW. Apparently, Yves wrote that he’s got two wishes on his bucket list. 1. Meet BBW. 2. Beat BBW for the championship. Seriously, fuck, where has this French Canadian hunk been all my life?! The balls on this guy!!! And I say that well before lovely Yves gets his cock and balls lassoed and tortured by BBW. And, let me just make it clear, all that’s BEFORE the superstar of the SM underworld gets his go at the lucky fucker.

I sort of adore those early moments in a match when BBW gets rocked. Just a bit, of course. Yves does it in an inspired defensive maneuver. As he’s getting the shit beat out of those lovely, juicy pecs of his in the corner, he wraps his thick thighs around BBW, locks his ankles together behind BBW’s back, and crushes the bad boy. The drama is so fucking gorgeous. BBW keeps making a move to pound more forearms into Yves’ pecs to free himself, and each time, a split second before the blow rains down, Yves flexes his big, hairy quads hard enough to paralyze the nasty heel and suck the power right out of his threatened blow. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard someone credit BBW’s sell on the receiving end, but damn it all, he deserves it.

BBW is blunt force trauma. The moves are huge and straight forward. He repeatedly splashes his big, hairy chest into his battered, fading prey. He sprints corner to corner, to build up momentum, and, clearly, to terrorize the French Canadian with balls of steel. He very deliberately sets up a camel clutch so that the camera is staring down the throat of the screaming muscle hunk in his grasp. A chinlock isn’t sufficient. Just too fucking subtle for BBW. So, instead, he wraps his bulging right bicep across Yves’ throat and chokes him in the camel. Again, too subtle, so he also starts bouncing up and down, using Yves’ lower lumbar like a trampoline. Again, I say, it’s still too FUCKING subtle, so BBW then tries to rip his handsome face (despite BBW’s insults about Yves’ looks) right off his skull.

“You want to send a letter,” BBW asks me, personally, (I mean, the camera). I mean, fuck, the camera work here… Yves is literally not in the frame, his face slammed to the mat, but we hear him whimpering and wheezing and grunting in panic and pain beneath the champ. “Tell me how you’re going to smash me. Tell me how you’re going to squash me.” As BBW taunts me (personally), you can hear Yves whimper, and I swear to the homoerotic wrestling gods, openly cry in terror, as BBW grabs him by the hair and yanks his head up and into the frame. “Then, this face could be yours! Hey mom and dad, look at your pretty boy,” he snarls, slapping him in the face. “We’re only just beginning here,” BBW explains to me (personally), as the camera pans back. “This is just the start. The massacre is just starting.”

Yves eventually gets planted on top of the turnbuckle, and an “X marks the spot BBW took your fucking ass” shaved into his thick hairy pecs. BBW cleans off the shaving cream with the g-string he rips off Yves’ suffering, hot (did I mention HOT?) body. His own g-string pouch tied across his face, his cock and balls leashed, and every fucking ounce of dignity stripped from him, Yves is planted by BBW him across his back, screaming, twitching, and weeping as he’s carried around the ring like BBW is just picking up the trash. Finally, the heel hoists Yves’ naked ass over one shoulder and walks him out of the ring room, to hand-deliver him to Donnie in the mat room.

Woah. These days, I’m enthralled with the very same thing that sort of terrified me early on. BBW is talking directly to me. He’s taunting me, personally, challenging me to reconsider my fantasies of going toe-to-toe with the big, bad heels in the ring. The immediacy of this match, what, 22 years later, is so palpable. So, a send-up to BBW, and to all the army of his fans who still fantasize about what he’d do to them in the ring, these years later. And please, please, please someone send my very best to lovely, hairy, hunky, naked (hopefully still) Yves. We hardly knew you, buddy, but you were stunning!

Stay in Your Lane

wrestlebard1 Comment

Last week there was a reckoning in pro wrestling, as victims of sexual misconduct and sexual assault stepped forward on several platforms to name the crimes and creeps they have endured for years in the pro wrestling context. While I’ve generally ignored mainstream pro wrestling for a couple of decades, for a number of reasons, I follow a few wrestlers outside of the homoerotic wrestling context, and more than a few wrestlers that straddle both worlds. Based on what I’ve read, most of the recently disclosed creepiness was perpetrated by men against women, but I’ve seen more than a few indictments of same sex assault and harassment. I don’t believe that I’m qualified or informed sufficiently to comment directly, but it does draw my attention to my lane on the road, namely wrestling produced for gay eyes.

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As I’ve documented extensively on this blog, I found wrestling inherently erotic from pretty much the first time I can remember seeing it. Clearly, I’m not alone. Vintage gay beefcake pin-up boys were often portrayed grappling, perhaps as cover for the explicit tension of seeing two nearly naked men all over each other. But for me, it’s not just cover. I have access to a world of homoerotic porn today, but what seriously turns me on is homoerotic wrestling (thus, this blog). I understand that there may be companies producing content with an explicit understanding that the wrestling is pretense, that the audience is understood to primarily include gay guys who only feel comfortable getting caught with their jack-off inspiration under the bed/in their downloads if they can attempt to argue that they’re just good ole straight boys into good old straight wrestling and it has nothing to do with their dicks. I’ll come back to that in a moment, but for now, let me say that I’m most interested in self-consciously, undeniably homoerotic wrestling.

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I get off on wrestling. Early in my life, it was a secret that I felt ashamed of. Mostly through blogging about it over the past 10 years, I’ve “come out” about it here, and face-to-face with some of my close friends. I still watch “family friendly” pro wrestling sometimes for the nostalgia, for the implicit connection to my young, gay self staying up late on a Saturday night, turning the volume down way, way low, and pounding a few out over the course of watching the likes of Billy Jack Haynes, the Dynamite Kid, and Steve Doll work up a sweat and put their hot bodies to the test in the ring. I realize that the producers of independent pro wrestling probably didn’t envision a whole lot of their audience consuming the product quite the way I did (though I strongly suspect producers have always known and counted on our corner of the fan base). Most of what I enjoy for the carnal enjoyment of it these days is wrestling-for-gay eyes, though, because the erotic text isn’t just the one I bring to the viewing. And in explicitly homoerotic wrestling (explicit or not), the eroticism crosses some topical boundaries (like groping, mismatched erotic desire between the combatants, aggressive kisses, gear being forcibly ripped off of each other) that are, in many ways, the very content of damning stories raised by wrestlers in mainstream pro wrestling about sexual harassment and sexual assault. But in homoerotic wrestling, it’s happening for the homoerotically-oriented wrestling audience, and it’s built on a pretense of consent. The boundary crossing is an erotic fantasy, self-consciously enacted by consenting wrestlers willingly, sometimes eagerly, rather than real-life boundary crossing perpetrated as an unwanted violation of consent.

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I’ve never seen a wrestling contract from BG East or W4H or Can-Am or Naked Kombat. I’ve never sat in on labor negotiations or match planning. But as a consumer, I’m assuming a foundation of consent, that the fine, hot hunks that populate my screen have signed up for the sexy situations that they find themselves in. I’d feel like an accomplice to a crime if I actually thought that IRL Bryan Powers was put in restraints in the corner and forced to watch helplessly as his sexy little fuck buddy Liam Ryan was beaten senseless, groped relentlessly, and force-fed Shane McCall’s cock as Shane and BBW made out over top of him, turned on by their cruel domination. If all 4 of the wrestlers didn’t sign-up for, at the very least, the possibility of the erotic turns and double-teaming injustice that played out, then that match would be prosecutable. The pretense of being overpowered and forced into sexually compromised positions only works for my fantasy life if there was consent from the start.

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The role of consent in my erotic fantasies has been explicitly on my mind for a long time. I remember rewriting, multiple times, one of my first homoerotic wrestling fiction stories, as I brought into focus the blurred lines of consent. The match was careening headlong into the winner fucking the unwilling loser.  But as the words hit the page, I actually felt pity for the loser. Even the imaginary violation of consent was such a buzz kill, and it sent me backward into the narrative, to figure out whether the hottest telling of my fantasy would be established on clarifying the mutually agreed upon stakes, or if the match needed to head a different direction all together.

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The idea of consent pops up in other ways in my blogging history. Along the way, I’ve requested, and received, permission from copyright owners to post images from homoerotic wrestling productions. Sometimes they have specific parameters within which they give me permission to post. One producer has specified that I not re-post their images that include nudity, for example. Also, in about 10 years of active blogging, there’s been about a dozen times when someone featured in an image I’ve posted has requested the image be removed. I always do, whether they are the copyright owners or not. I do my best to celebrate homoerotic wrestling and wrestlers, and the underlying consent of the hunks seems essential to demonstrating the relationship that I want to have with the genre, built on consent.

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I once pressed Muscle Master Kevin at MDW on the topic of the use of gay slurs. MDW isn’t the only company that’s invoked the themes of humiliating “the sissies,” of course. MMK seemed quite honestly surprised to hear me say that I felt resentment about it. He explained that it comes from his private fans and MDW fans who specifically call for it, who demand it as a crucial component of what gets them off.  I had to sit with that for a while, frankly. In the end, I decided that my job isn’t to police anyone else’s erotic fantasies. As long as everyone understands that it’s mutually negotiated, then what does it matter what my critique of internalized homophobia may be? Helpfully, MMK suggested they would do a better job of labeling their products, so that those willingly seeking out homoerotic material featuring anti-gay themes could find what they need, and the rest of us can steer clear. I’m not exactly thrilled that there’s a significant market for gay guys wanting to get off on being gay bashed (at least figuratively), but if everyone involved is consenting, what does it matter what I think?

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Maybe #speakout will trickle down to homoerotic wrestling, and we’ll learn that there’s not always fully informed consent operating on camera, or that there’s harassment or assault off camera. I’ve heard rumors, but no first-hand accounts. For the record, I’m only interested in celebrating homoerotic wrestling in which what shows up on camera reflects willing consent (and hopefully eager enthusiasm) of the wrestlers involved. If there are aggressive liplocks, ripped off gear, muscle groping, cock stroking, sexual domination, erotic humiliation, humping, frottage, or full on fucking, then it should be willingly consented to by all parties involved. If it isn’t, I don’t want to watch it or promote it. If there are any hot, naive young hunks who show up on camera not knowing that the whole purpose of the product is for gay guys to jerk off to them, they should be informed. I think there’s a problem with fully informed consent, otherwise, and I don’t want to be crushing on some hot young muscle hunk who’s desperately ashamed and feeling duped to be associated with homoeroticism.

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If I go to wrestling-for-gay-eyes sites and see guys feeling each other up, grabbing each other’s crotches, sucking on each other’s nipples, bumping and grinding, stripping naked, making out, getting hard, dick whipping, cock sucking, muscle worshiping, or, best of all, doing all of the above in a ring full of baby oil with a dozen other like minded, fully aroused beefcakes celebrating the homoeroticism of wrestling for kindred spirits to enjoy over and over again on an endless repeat recording, then I fully expect everyone to have willingly consented, and hopefully exuberantly endorsed the production of an erotic wrestling fantasy. If anyone in mainstream pro wrestling, underground wrestling, homoerotic wrestling, or anyone else, thinks that they’re entitled to coerce, manipulate, or physically force anyone else against their will to participate in your erotic fantasy, I think that’s creepy and should be shut down every time. If your fantasy includes coercion, enjoy the creative and inspired artists, athletes, and producers who can indulge that fantasy without anyone being harmed, dehumanized, or criminally assaulted. Otherwise, stay in your own lane, and keep the eroticism out of your wrestling lives.

The Best: Heel

wrestlebard3 Comments

The Battle to Be the Best Heel could not have turned out more competitively and suspenseful! Brooklyn Bodywrecker and Kid Leopard traded the lead in voting at least a dozen times. Every time I checked the poll, momentum had swung a different direction. BBW opened up some distance relatively early on, and I thought KL was about to be buried under all that hairy, horny muscle like all of the rest. But holy fuck, do NOT count the Boss out prematurely! It’s been two days of heavy voting, though, and I’m calling it as of this moment. With not quite 51% of the vote, there’s just one vicious son of a bitch left standing. Check out David’s blow by blow in the comments, but in the end, his version of the match equivalent of voting did not end up the way the voting did. Because nobody, but NOBODY pulls off a gut check homoerotic badass heel beatdown like The Boss, Kid Leopard.

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Maybe someone can write a new blow by blow of the match equivalent of this balls out slug fest. As for me, I picture them 45-minutes into this non-stop battle, gear ripped to shreds and discarded. Both sadistic masters are soaked in sweat, exhausted, and fully erect. BBW has been exploiting his weight advantage, and he now has KL torture racked, doing laps in the ring as he wrings KL’s neck with one hand and crushes his balls with the other. KL’s big, beautiful cock is bobbing back and forth. As has happened so many times in this match, BBW locks down a finisher that’s turned every other opponent into a sniveling, begging, bitch boy ready to pledge allegiance to their new master, but KL refuses to submit, despite his dire straights. Minutes of ripping at him, slowly circling, BBW keeps growling and barking, demanding the submission, growing frustrated that his opponent just won’t acknowledge the truth that he’s helplessly conquered. BBW’s beefy legs quiver, and he suddenly stumbles over his own feet, abruptly dropping to his knees as KL rolls off of his back. BBW pounds the mat furiously, enraged, with growing self-doubt. KL writhes behind him, struggling to pull his gasping face off the mat. His gorgeous, smooth body is marked all over with angry bruises and rope burns. Just as he pulls himself up to his hands and knees, BBW is standing next to him, driving a vile place kick into his ribs that lifts KL off the mat and sends him sprawling to this back. BBW is snarling and spitting, promising to take the title, to take KL’s magnificent dancer’s ass, to take possession of his will, and to take over the homoerotic wrestling empire KL has built.

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It was that last bit the make’s KL’s eyes widen, his nostrils flare, and his arm jut out and sweep BBW’s leg out from underneath him just as he’s about to drive another place kick into his opponent’s ribs. Exhausted, BBW lands hard, flat on his back. Slowly, but faster than his opponent can counter, KL slides in between BBW’s spread-eagled hairy legs. Snapping his legs around one leg and prying BBW’s other leg open wide with this shoulder, KL spladles his rival violently. BBW reaches his hands down toward his quivering inner thighs with shock on his face. “No, no, no,” he begs, a moment before KL rabbit punches him in the balls. “Let’s see how those balls of steel hold up now,” KL snarls like the villain he is. Fists rain down. Elbow strikes dig deep into BBW’s swollen testicles. At first, there’s a masochistic grin stretched across his face as he savors the ball abuse, his jackhammer swelling that much harder, stretching magnificently over his hairy lower abdomen. But as the onslaught wears on, BBW’s grin is interrupted by twangs of suffering, as even his notoriously high pain threshold is approached and then exceeded. KL throttles his sac. He twists and pries it away from BBW’s body. He crushes it in one hand, and as BBW starts groaning in pain, KL begins sliding his other hand slowly up and down BBW’s throbbing shaft. BBW’ hips rise off the mat as he approaches orgasm. His eyes roll into the back of his head as his neck arches and his mouth gapes. KL’s hand slows precipitously, eliciting a gasp of desperation from his quarry. “Oh, fuck, no,” BBW mutters. KL cranks on his shaft harder and faster again, turning his opponent’s protests into purrs. A few second later, as BBW’s lower back is arched high, his cock pulsing in anticipation, KL lets go entirely and slaps the straining, captured cock dismissively. “Fuck,” BBW mewls, reaching down to put himself over. KL swats his hands away from his cock, refusing to permit him to satisfy himself. “Who’s your fucking daddy now,” KL asks, slowly wrapping the fingers of one hand around BBW’s cock again and flicking its head with his thumb. “Who’s your daddy, punk,” KL demands, his hand perfectly still but at the ready. “Please,” BBW mutters. “Please,” he whispers. “Who’s your daddy, punk,” KL barks at him, shaking his cock violently once.

“You are, you are,” BBW whispers, self-loathing in his face. “Say it for all the boys to know, once and for all,” KL barks, slowly starting to massage his cock again. “Who is it? Who’s your daddy, punk?” BBW swallows hard, his eyes closed, his glutes flexed and his lower back arching off the mat. “It’s Kid Leopard,” BBW gasps, his voice spiking an octave. “Kid Leopard is my daddy!”

… or at least that’s how I see it. Congratulations to BBW on an incredible run, but all hail the king, the heel in charge, The Boss himself, Kid Leopard. The Best Heel.

Kid Leopard

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

wrestlebard3 Comments

Woah. I haven’t seen Cage Thunder manhandled so completely since Mitch Colby stripped him naked and smothered him in his massive pecs. Brooklyn Bodywrecker rolled right over him, and I think David sums up the defeat perfectly with his description of Cage Thunder battered unconscious, hung in a tree of woe, and taken advantage of in his helplessness.

Again, I ask, is there anyone who can knock BBW’s muscle ass off the throne? There are plenty more heels in the business, but we’ve nearly cleared that top shelf of sadistic masters who I think could pose a serious challenge. The only heel left who I can think of who is vile enough to put BBW in his place is heel daddy himself, the magnificent hunk who basically invented the homoerotic heel, Kid Leopard.

On the left, sitting pretty and smirking, muscle heel daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker (5’9″, 190 lbs) vs. on the right, the prototype, the Boss himself, Kid Leopard (5’8″, 160 lbs).

Brooklyn Bodywrecker
Kid Leopard

This is an epic showdown, so consider carefully. Vote wisely, and comment below how you see this clash of legends coming to it’s historic climax.

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

wrestlebard2 Comments

I thought Kid Vicious was going to dethrone Brooklyn Bodywrecker, when he jumped out to an early lead in the voting. But BBW started to slowly pull away, and KV just wasn’t able to reel him back in. I don’t weigh in so forcefully most days, but I have to say that I voted full heartedly for KV, and I have a searing image of him pounding the fuck out of BBW’s back in an OTK, and working his cock and balls with both hands and his mouth until he’s drained him dry. Since submission by emission isn’t spelled out in the rules, however, I suppose I can forgive KV for prematurely celebrating the victory, dumping BBW off his knee and backing into a corner to demand BBW service his monster cock in return. BBW plays along with the misunderstanding, climbing out to stand on the ring apron and wrap his arms around KV from behind, violently throttling his Louisville slugger, before he suddenly snaps on a sleeper and rag dolls KV until he’s knocked out cold.

The ranks of heels who could seriously challenge Brooklyn Bodywrecker are shrinking. One challenge he hasn’t faced yet is the diabolical mystery of a notoriously nasty heel in a mask. I’m pulling out the signed photo of Cage Thunder I possess and kissing his crotch for good luck as he climbs into the ring and lowers the boom on the reigning champ.

On the left, muscle bear daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker (5″11, 190 lbs) vs. the masked terrorizer Cage Thunder (5’11”, 180 lbs).

Brooklyn Bodywrecker
Cage Thunder

Which sadistic legend wrings out the other? Vote here, and comment below to describe how you see this breaking one way or the other.

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

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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).

Brooklyn Bodywrecker
Kid Vicious

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

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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).

Brooklyn Bodywrecker
Guido Genatto

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

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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).

Brooklyn Bodywrecker
Jonny Firestorm

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

wrestlebard2 Comments

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).

Kayden Keller
Brooklyn Bodywrecker

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.