Tag: Chase Addams

You Like That, Right?

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As I navigate the world, work, family, most of my friends, I’m pretty sure I’m usually the kinkiest person in the room. I mean, we never know what cousin Fergus gets up to behind closed doors, do we? But in terms of me being primarily turned on by rough and raunchy homoerotic wrestling fare, I typically assume that if we all laid our cards on the table, I’d be holding the hand that makes the most of us blush. But then, I hang out with my homoerotic wrestling friends. And in that crowd, I know that I’m not particularly the kinkiest at the table. For example, long-time friend of this blog and someone I genuinely count as a kindred spirit, Chase Addams, reached out to me recently to ask if I’d be interested in watching a super hot cage match he recorded with Ultimate Domination at Wrestlefest Toronto. You know where my mind went, right? Yep, I was marveling at how Chase and Ultimate D. found a wrestling ring surrounded by chain link to battle it out in a cage. Of course, I want to see that! So, I eagerly tucked into their Watchfighters video, Cage Match, and quickly realized… oooooh… “cage match!” As in, loser gets his cock caged! I mean, yeah, I’m familiar with the concept of a cock cage. I haven’t given it a lot of thought, but I know there are guys who get passionate about the ownership, control, and humiliation of caging another man’s cock or getting their own caged. I wouldn’t say it’s in the top 10 of what turns me one, but Chase and Ultimate D. had agreed to those terms from the start of their match. One of these hunks was going to have his cock locked down before they were done.

I’ve lusted after Ultimate Domination from a distance for a while, but this is my first time watching him wrestle. Holy fuck, the man is right at the edge of too handsome, too built, just too fucking beautiful to be believed. He looks like the homoerotic fantasy of my G.I. Joe action figure I owned as a kid come to life, but more gorgeously muscled, more devastatingly good looking, and with all the correct anatomical parts. I mean, check out Chase’s tags here on Sidelineland and you’ll see that I am a long-time fan and devoted admirer of his wrestling portfolio. Of course, I’m dialing in to see him get mean and heel hard. But then, fuck, Ultimate D. absolutely towers over him. Chase is a homoerotic wrestling star, but Ultimate D. struts in like a force of nature. I’m so fucking torn as to who I’m tuned into!

“You like that, right?” Ultimate D. sneers as Chase slathers on slack-jawed muscle worship as soon as they meet. He looks like a man accustomed to guys immediately swooning under the sway of his stunning good looks. Maybe Ultimate D. isn’t quite so inevitable after all, though, as he falls for the oldest trick in the homoerotic wrestling book. Chase’s full nelson snaps on him, mid-double-bicep flex, and all that magnificent beef can’t earn his freedom. He fights it long and hard, but he’s nearly passed out within a minute of the start of the match, and Chase is already pulling the cock cage out. Fuck, is Ultimate Domination a paper tiger?!

No, for the record, Ultimate Domination is legit. I mean, he suffers HOT and hard in Chase’s camel clutch, and the pairing of the look of panic in his eyes and his trapped muscle bod is intoxicating. But he’s about 6 seconds away from getting his cock caged when he battles back from the blurry edges of consciousness and starts immediately manhandling Chase. While I’m not entirely sold on whether the cock caging turns the heat up for me, personally, there’s plenty of hot and mean pro wrestling that’s right up my alley. Ultimate D. luxuriates in delivering a payback camel clutch that looks like it could rip Chase’s skull off. His Boston crab is beautiful and boss, and he rings Chase into a whimpering mess of helplessness.

Chase gets buried under an avalanche of ultimate muscle, and, fuck, Ultimate D. in the driver’s seat is golden. The visuals are magnificent. That cocky smirk on Ultimate D.’s face that tilts his stash to the side makes my cock twitch. He keeps flexing that Hollywood-ready physique while he’s smothering Chase under that packed bulge in his pink trunks. Like, of course Chase munches on that ass when Ultimate D. turns around and sits on his face to slap and taunt the BG East heel’s helpless bod.

But honestly, it isn’t the visuals that put me over the edge. It’s the audio. Ultimate D.’s grunts and moans are primal. They’re the growls of a predator with his jaws already clamped around juicy prey. Holy fuck, I’m not sure if this more like watching Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom or full-on gay porn. Whatever it is, I’m just about as coated in sweat as Ultimate D. is as he cages Chase’s cock and then stands up to peel his pink trunks down and unveils his own gorgeous cock. Fuck, does this man have imperfections? His cock is thick and juicy and perfectly proportioned to his huge, rock hard physique.

In total honesty, I’m typically not hanging around for cum shots. It’s the wrestling itself that gets me off and consumes me. But watching Ultimate D. smothering Chase under his naked ass and pumping on his own cock to climax is art that I just can’t take my eyes off of. The caged cock stakes aren’t right at the center of my bullseye, but the idea of Ultimate D. pounding out a tidal wave on Chase’s chest in victory while Chase is locked up wicked tight and frustrated is certainly a hot contrast.

So, sure, this wasn’t the “cage match” I naively expected. But it’s a hot 23 minutes of pro wrestling domination, with a seductive and seasoned heel getting way more than he bargained from a stunningly gorgeous muscle beast. Heel bashing is a secret pleasure for me, so watching Chase conquered and mistreated is a super sweet treat. But it’s nothing short of magical when Ultimate D. is cranking the last ounces out of his thick cock, and he indulgently flexes a peaked bicep just for himself, growling like the primal beast he is. I’m am officially a fanatic now, maybe not of cock cages, but definitely of Ultimate Domination.

More Mayhem

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I tried to capture the crashing waves and relentless undertoe of Sir Dark’s Watchfigthers Rumble Match Part 1 in an earlier post. While I’ve been a bit spread thin over the past couple of months, I didn’t want to leave it any longer before I offered the necessary review for the necessary finale of that battle royale rumble from up north, Watchfighters Rumble Match Part 2. If you’ve read much that I’ve written, it will sound familiar when I say that wrestling is drama. Especially when it’s done right, it’s suspenseful and narrative. And WF Rumble Match Part 2 is drama done right. The energy and intensity of the second half of this wild ride is equally as frenzied and hot as Part 1, but the pace is a tad more deliberate. All that’s left are the last few lucky entrants to jump into the fray late in the line up and join the iron men with the stamina and stubbornness to endure while the first couple of layers of hopefuls got peeled off.

The roster for part 2 is more concise than part 1. B Sprite and Neil are still going at it as holdovers from the first half, along with Isaac, Kayden, and Chase. Fuck, everyone wants to wring suffering out of Neil, and I get that. He’s solid enough to not easily break, and it turns out he can suck down punishment with a tenacity that makes me want to see just how much he can take. He can take a lot, and he looks beautiful doing it.

Kayden and Chase are absolute titans in these final rounds. They’re fucking big, solid, and just so extensively experienced as hungry heels. I’m pretty sure if they cooperated even a little bit, they’d have wiped the floor with the competition and then had only each other to tuck in against in the end. Heels aren’t really known for cooperation, though, are they? Even still, I’m convinced the two of them are just too big and mean to do anything but outlast everyone…. right up until Leon Cyrus clocks in.

Fuck, Leon. I enjoyed watching him wrestle Dash Halley’s pecs at Wrestlefest Live in NYC last February. A lot. Leon is fucking massive and skilled, somehow managing to pull off a bulldozer heavyweight vibe while staying just this side of the line of earnest babyface. He’s a total wild card showing up so late in the rumble that suddenly I’m thinking Kayden and Chase might not just run away with this. In fact, this feels like anyone’s game again. There’s a real possibility of Kayden, Chase, and Leon being capable of doing serious damage to each other and leaving an opening for a sleeper underdog to sprint for the finish. There are three sharks circling, and fuck the drama is rich!

Chase gets double teamed by Isaac and Kayden, which feels like an incredibly sexy heel tag team to me. I feel like Isaac and Kayden run on the same octane, which burns hot and slow with an strong whiff of inevitability. But the alliances morph constantly, as if despite the fun of collabs, they keep reminding themselves that this is every man for himself. Rick Roma barrels in like a house on fire, tucking into Isaac’s hot bod like Thanksgiving leftovers. Isaac white knuckles it to the very bitter end, but the hairy hottie finally taps when Chase and Rick double team him and, honestly, there was no coming back from that.

When NonoZ clocks in, my already rock hard cock quivers with excitement. Fuck, that man. Like, FUCK… that man! When he just walks up and smack the fuck out of B Sprite’s crotch, I literally swoon. I’d donate a kidney to trade places with Rick when NonoZ hoists him off his feet in a bearhug. The masked hunk is so patient in this way that makes my knees weak, just milking the will to fight out of Rick with his hairy pecs and huge arms crushing like he could keep it up for hours.

My cock similarly throbs with an extra pump of excitement when Beau Jordan clocks in as almost the last entrant in the rumble. This man is ridiculously hot, of course, but when he turns full on sadistic, he’s got this pretty boy ass assassin feel like possibly no one else I’ve seen. Just like I can’t help but picture Kayden and Isaac as tag team, I can’t stop obsessing over the pairing of Beau and NonoZ. They’ve both got this silent intensity perfectly poised on the edge of competitiveness and eroticism. At one point they’re double teaming Neil, not because I think either of them couldn’t put the demolished fucker away single handedly, but because they can’t help themselves but work together like a well oiled machine (fuuuuuck, just picture that in oil?). Beau wordlessly wrenches Neil’s legs apart in a banana split. Simultaneously, NonoZ is immobilizing Neil with a chicken wing, tauntingly folding Neil forward until he starts slamming Neil’s face into Beau’s famously gorgeous curved scimitar, happily at attention.

Again, I say, fuck, this drama is compelling! NonoZ, Beau, and Kayden are the last men standing, and the erotic tension suddenly explodes. NonoZ picks up Kayden’s road kill and starts face-fucking Beau in a helpless schoolboy pin. It’s ally-and-betray, rinse-and-repeat, with Beau and NonoZ’ sensational cocks taking strokes and beatings that make me sweat hard. Again, the smart money is on NonoZ and Beau turning that incendiary chemistry of theirs on Kayden, but in the heat of a battle royale, decisions are sometimes more impulsive than smart. It takes Kayden exactly 3 seconds to congratulate his final rival on their mutual success in knocking the second runner up out of competition, before Kayden is landing a sucker knee to the gut and scooping the sizzling hot pretty boy into a bearhug.

As I mentioned in Part 1, there’s too much drama to do it justice in a review. You’ve just got to watch it and marvel. And, sure, if you’re like. me, you’ll have lost a few loads before you get there, but watch it all the way to the naked ass face scissors smother end.

Just like the incredibly hot and lucky 2nd place winner is asking himself with all that gorgeous ass in his face in the end, my only question is whether this is too much of a sensational thing? There are about 8 or so mini-dramas I want to linger long and very, very hard on, and who can bankroll a custom of my fixation on an erotic tag team beat down pitting Kayden and Isaac squaring off against Beau and NonoZ’s awe-inspiring cocks? Part 2 dials down the frenzy and lets us savor a little more deliberately the spontaneity and raw intensity that comes with throwing this many gorgeous wrestlers onto the same mat. Still, it’s a lot. If you want something slow and deliberate with cinematic blocking and measured close-ups documenting two hot competitors testing their egos against one another, this probably isn’t that. But if you want more of that full throttle, wild and unpredictable energy that is totally the Sir Dark brand, like a sampler plate of the tastiest Watchfighters wrestlers, you want to buy the WF Rumble bundle!

Mayhem

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Watching Watchfighters Rumble Match – Part 1 gives me so many vibes of being at a Wrestlefest. Actually, it specifically gives me vibes of being at Wrestlefest Canada. I swear I stayed in that hotel room! Well, I’m pretty sure it’s at the hotel I stayed at when I enjoyed attending WF Canada three summers ago. But the vibes are about a lot more than the accommodations. There’s this serendipity about the pop-up community that forms at a fest. My best analogy is to summer camp, where you look forward to getting thrown into this community of people outside of your regular life, and the proximity and shared interests and just everyone stepping outside their lives and into this chosen community creates this incredibly fun esprit de corps. The (no shit) 13 wrestlers who join Sir Dark’s rumble in WF Rumble Match – Part 1 all look like they’re having a fucking blast.

It was at Wrestlefest Canada I experienced my first of many group mat matches. The rumble has all of those elements, but bigger and more intense and with an even more out of control feel of a melee. The premise is, like a pro wrestling rumble, a new wrestler is added to the mix every so often, and wrestlers are eliminated when they submit. And that’s it. Like, that’s all the rules. So the wrestling drama depends entirely on the luck of the draw, pacing, and the fickle alliances and betrayals that play out depending on who happens to be on the mat at any given time. It’s absolute chaos AND it’s got this compelling momentum that I can’t take my eyes off of.

I’m tuned in for my favorites featured, of course. Sir Dark appears to be the mastermind of the mayhem, which, honestly, is so on brand. If you could bottle chaos, I think he’d guzzle it daily. He’s got this constant edge of unpredictability about him, I think showcased never more clearly than in his Wrestlefest Live match last February in NYC. But he’s souped up and riding the feral edge about him as this rumble starts up, but holy shit is he in there with the yin to his yang. Ethan Axel Andrews is the other wrestler to kick off the Rumble, and he’s more like a cruise missile. Their opening scrap against each other is one of the most intense of the next 20 minutes, which sort of makes sense because all their attention is on each other, and their both fresh and primed. Ethan is rolling, exploiting his size advantage for a bit when he latches on a leglock and threatens to snap the Dark one at the knee. Sir Dark screams at him with total bile and adrenaline, “Fuck off, NO!” Fuck, that guy rocks me.

Every minute (or so, the timing isn’t entirely precise), a countdown signals the arrival of a new wrestler to join the fray. In these raucous 20 minutes, favorite wrestlers of mine show up in the mix and I’m unable to stop myself from cheering at my screen. Mickey Knoxx comes in hot, flexing and strutting and wasting no time tearing into Feroce in a completely unfair double team with Demonflex. Isaac Andrews comes in looking gorgeous as fuck with his hairy chest and beard. Kayden Keller and Chase Addams turn the heat way, way up when they take each take their turns as the fresh man diving into the mix.

Just like it works at a fest, though, there are also these unexpected finds, wrestlers I don’t think I’ve ever seen before but once I do, I can’t take my eyes off of them. The fourth entrant is introduced as Mischief. He’s adorable, with this gentle giant feel about him as he strides onto the mat. And then, holy fuck, there’s nothing gentle about Mischief! The guy is grinning ear to ear the entire time, so transparently loving that uncorked chaos Sir Dark is serving up. Two things in particular about Mischief make me swoon. One is just how much delight he takes in muscle bullying a smaller opponent. No apologies. No giving a little guy a fighting chance. He just licks his lips and tucks in to the bite sized morsels with relish. The other thing that catches my eye and turns me on about Mischief is this go to move he has of buttoning an opponent up and just clamping his huge hand over the guy’s face and refusing to let the fucker breathe. He does that more than once, and it’s such a fucking BOSS move.

There are some other new-to-me wrestlers that instantly impress me. I’ve seen Feroce DeLeon on Watchfighters before, but I was not expecting just how much absolute abuse his hot body can soak up. I met Kevin Nova at that fest in Toronto a couple of years ago, and he’s buffed up and gotten super aggressive in a way that makes him fit right into this wild melee. I’ve followed Demonflex on social media for what seems like forever. We’ve had near-misses at scheduling a 1:1 for the two of us, and watching how much fun he has swimming in this chaos makes me want to make sure that meet up happens soon. Veneno is this tasty little masked scrapper who looks like he should get submitted super fast based on nothing but size, but there’s a short king under that mask who is taking on everyone and in the center of the fray at all times and holding his own like a terrier. For some reason I think I have seen Neil Rey somewhere, but I’m not placing him, but he’s fascinating to watch come in and join this big boy gang triple teaming the little guy on the mat at the time.

That little guy is the other new-to-me wrestler epiphany that caught my attention out of everything happening at once in the maelstrom. Honestly, I was worried about pretty boy B Sprite when he first showed up. I mean, this kid is pretty. Too pretty, and lithe, and lean, and he ends up in the turbulent waters right when there’s the likes of big, burly bad asses ripping into each other like Isaac and Kayden and Neil. I have to immediately reassess lovely B Sprite, though, when he doesn’t skip a beat, and half a second after stepping onto the mat he’s got a claw working on twisting Mickey’s balls off. Lovely B Sprite is fucking mean and skilled, and sure, maybe I’m just identifying with him because he goes after Mickey like he’s got blinders on.

Writing a review of the Rumble is a bit like trying to film it, I suspect. There’s just so many mini-dramas playing out, it’s impossible to see them all in one viewing. Actually, it’s impossible to see them all upon repeated viewings, because the camera misses some of the action on one side the mat while documenting the grappling on the other side of the mat. Like, I’m not sure what drove terrier-like Veneno to actually submit, because the camera and I were enthralled with watching Kayden lift Mickey by the balls, cradling the wailing Canadian across his chest, and then slamming Mickey down in a brutal gut buster. If you like clean edges and drawing within the lines, the Rumble may not be for you, because it’s super raw and spontaneous and messy. And I’m convinced every single one of those wrestlers is having an absolute blast because he loves wrestling, and he’s exhilarated by the chaotic brew Sir Dark is serving on tap.

I’m going to towel off and settle in for the Rumble part 2, now. I had no idea this was exactly the international wrestling drama I needed to take my mind off the end times!

Wrestlefest Live – 2025

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Like Wrestlefest itself, Wrestlefest Live grew in leaps and bounds this year. I attended WF Live last year, and it was an awesome, fascinating, intense, and immensely entertaining event. Last year, the Live show had the feel of getting smuggled into a speakeasy during prohibition. We were escorted, one elevator-full of wrestling fans at a time, to the undisclosed location. Seating was limited in a sparse, Manhattan loft space on the upper floor of a high rise. It was mat wrestling in front of an intimately small but enthusiastic crowd. The matches were bigger than the setting, really, with some fantastic, high profile wrestlers from the underground scene, stars of both self-published and corporately produced homoerotic wrestling. Seated inches away from match after match of sizzling hot bodies grappling for dominance was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before, and when the box office opened online for the show this year, I eagerly snatched mine up hours after they went on sale, which turned out to be a good thing, since the show sold out in about 12 hours.

Wrestlefest Live this year was billed as more. More matches, a lot more wrestlers (accounting for tag teams, celebrity refs, and unannounced ring takeovers, turned out to be A LOT), but the one element that piqued my interest most was the promise of a full blown pro wrestling show in a ring. I was in suspense, wondering how they’d pull this off, knowing it was set in the same club where the kickoff party had occurred the night before (see my account of drooling over Dio Characi there). I tried to moderate my expectations, frankly. I was picturing the possibility of sort of a backyard wrestling feel, but in this case, in the backroom of Red Eye. Let me be clear, I admire the fuck out of backyard wrestling, with the young wrestling enthusiasts who improvise a pro wrestling setting on the cheap in order to live out (and record and share) their fantasies of being larger than life pro wrestlers like the ones they love watching on TV. Sometimes the “ring” is a trampoline or maybe just a few traffic cones and an unsecured rope marking the imaginary boundaries of a ring. Seriously, I’ve enjoyed watching some backyard wrestling from time to time on YouTube, when I find some hot young men going all in for the raw love of it. However, I wondered if Wrestlefest Live this year might similarly require the audience to imagine more than it literally delivered, sort of like backyard wrestling enthusiasts with the passion, if not the actual equipment and budget, of indy pro wrestling.

But, whoa. Like, WHOA! This was a legit show, the actual incarnation of unapologetic pro wrestling for a homoerotic wrestling audience that I’ve always fantasized about but never quite believed I’d get to witness. Sometime between the end of the kick-off party and the start of the show, an army of elves (who I’ve since learned were primarily made of up many of the wrestlers in the show) literally assembled a pro wrestling ring in the back room of the club. It took up about 80% of the floor space, and they packed in the 70 or 80 of us who purchased tickets into the remaining 20%. You know how eager I was for this, considering I gave up the opportunity to keep chatting up Ben Monaco, Beau Jordan, and Mickey Knoxx at the bar to elbow my way to near the front of the line as soon as the doors opened. I scored a ringside seat near the corner of the ring where the wrestlers made their entrances. I mean, everyone had an up close and incredible view, but fuck, I could literally reach out and touch the ring. When Mickey Knoxx made his ring entrance with Rocko Mortis for their tag team match, he peeled off his top and tossed it out of the ring at my feet (I haven’t asked Mickey, but I prefer to believe it was intentional). Moments later, when their opponents, Beau Jordan and pinch-hitter Seon Cruz took the ring, Beau ripped off his tear-away stripper pants and also tossed them down right in front of me (again, I tell myself it was an intentional bit of titillation especially for me). Like, fuck, I was right fucking there! When Sid Shaw and Zach Reno’s off-the-rails match spilled out of the ring, it was nearly in my lap. For a couple of seconds, Sid had a hold of my shoulder and was trying to climb over me and my buddy next to me because sensationally sexy lightweight Zach was about to thrash the living shit out of him. Fuck, I was right there, and we were ALL right there, and what played out in front of us was incredibly hot, hilarious, and gorgeous pro wrestling action.

Most of the wrestlers on the card have grown up before our eyes, turning their passions for wrestling into entertaining videos on WatchFighters. Quite a few have headlined for companies like BG East, Wrestler4Hire, and Weekend Wrestling. I suspect few of them have done anything quite like this before, pulling off a live match in front of a roaring crowd of guys turned on by wrestling. But honestly, you wouldn’t have known it. The entire show had polish about it. There was an earnestness and unblinking sell about it that was totally un-self-conscious. The slams where hard and loud. Bodies were literally catapulted off the ropes. The face plants into the turnbuckles shook the ring and hurt just to watch. The slaps and stomps popped with this spontaneous authenticity that left bright red hand prints and yellowing bruises behind. I’m mean, sure, I’m certain there were moments that I needed to suspend my disbelief, but as I look back on my memories of the event just over a week ago, I honestly don’t remember them. I just remember the stories playing out in front of us. And the hot bodies. I remember those really well.

There were competitive matches packed with impressive athleticism and wrestling technique. Babyface hero Dash Halley put those meaty pecs of his on the line against massive muscle bruiser Leon Cyrus in a best-of-5 battle that hit hard and kept us guessing to the sweaty end. My buddy Bobby Carter’s match against the institution, Lobo Gris, also started as one of those highly competitive and suspenseful battles, with pounding muscles and long, wrenching submission holds. But all of the matches showcased personalities and drama at least as much as they did stunning athleticism and technical wrestling. Both of the tag team matches were both dripping with melodrama, which is what tag team wrestling demands. When Kid Canuck and Ryan Reilly faced off against MPJ and Bruno the Beast, there was a shocking tag team partner betrayal culminating in a humiliated jobber pile of hot, sexy, demolished pretty boys. In most of the matches there was the teetering back and forth of the balance of power, with wrestlers owning the momentum and taking liberties and threatening to count their chickens before they hatched. Oh, and did I mention there was hot, hunky stripper wrestling? I feel like that deserves to be repeated.

The messiest and the most polished matches were back-to-back. My pick for messiest match was Gabe Steel taking on Drew Harper… and then Gabe taking on Dash Halley… and then Gabe taking on surprise reveal of Jonny Firestorm… and then Gabe taking on both Gabe and Drew. It was all high impact moves, with piledrivers for days. Honestly, there was so much going on I lost the thread of what the hell was exactly happening and who I was rooting for. Entertaining? Absolutely. But way, beautifully messy. The Weekend Wrestling feature of the evening was pretty much the opposite. Sadistic Sid Shaw took on Zach Reno, as I mentioned before, and it was smooth and polished to a glistening shine (just like Zach’s ass, which yes, we saw). Sid and Zach told the story of the underdog little (hot) guy refusing to be intimidated by the big, unhinged muscle brute. There was forced stripping, trunks pulled to show off two sets of hot glutes, and spanking. It was tightly told, with a couple of extensively experienced wrestlers to make every bump and spank feel spontaneous and part of a bigger story, including pulling in some ass whooping on Cole Cassidy (Weekend Wrestling Producer) which was oddly satisfying (not sure why I keyed off on seeing heartthrob hunk heel Cole get his ass kicked as much as I did).

And then there were just these unique moments that speak to the diversity of wrestlers and wrestling that populate this fabulously sexy community. Sir Dark’s match was just entirely off the hook and unlike anything else in the ring that night (in a super fun way). He was feral and bloodthirsty, out to fuck someone up so bad that he impulsively takes out the ref before a pop-up challenger can be identified from the audience. When KC Ryder steps in to be the beautiful blond babyface hero to stand against the forces of chaos uncorked by maniacal Sir Dark, the drama really got intense. Their match was ego-fueled and larger than life. It was sexy as hell and had me holding my breath in suspense and awe. Not sure if I’m conveying it, but it was just a whole different flavor to add to the buffet of Wrestlefest Live. The inaugural championship match between beefy babyface Ben Monaco and take-no-prisoners muscle heel Tarz Lando was (possibly) the the most thoroughly sweet treat for squash fans. The championship belt was decided in a super hot muscle massacre, dripping with cocky swagger and taunting trash talk and gorgeous, huge hairy pecs everywhere. The range throughout the evening was delightful, and the bench was deep.

It wasn’t perfect. There was a 20-minute delay at one point to try to troubleshoot the livestream that stopped working. There were blown moves, an occasional oversell, and even a frew more undersells. I saw Gabe Steel icing a swollen-shut eye after his match, and I’ve seen hints on social media that he may have more story to tell about things that didn’t go to plan. But as a gay fan turned on by wrestling, by sexy wrestlers and the drama and the battle for domination, it was magnificent. It was larger than life. From the rainbow ring to the ball claws and face sitting, it luxuriantly gay. It showed a ton of respect for the art and science and athleticism and beauty of professional wrestling. And it felt deeply respectful to a standing-room-only crowd of homoerotic wrestling fans. Those with credits for this sensational production included KC Ryder, Rocko Mortis, Cole Cassidy, and my cousin Scooter for what had to be a shit ton of upfront organizing and legwork, and there was another small army of guys holding the cameras and running the equipment. A quick shout out to the hot, handsome nerd-hunk ring announcer who should’ve thrown down the mic and ripped off his shirt (but didn’t). All of the celebrity refs (Chase Addams, Ethan Axel Andrews, and new-to-me muscle god Boy Radio) brought the sexy-in-stripes vibe and helped stir the pot of drama inside the ring at every turn. The Red Eye staff were uniformly delightfully hospitable and gorgeous (especially the bearded server with that hot-ass singlet serving drinks at ringside). I look forward to posting more detailed reviews once the matches go up on WatchFighters, but in the meantime, I’m combing through my hundreds of pics and videos I snapped, despite the announcement at the start of the show encouraging us to only take pics and videos “sparingly.” So not sorry!

Chargeback

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What ever happened to Elite Eliot? Before I laid to rest my Twitter account, I think I remember seeing him announce he was retiring from wrestling. Which is a crying shame, because he’s one of the most aesthetically pleasing indy pro wrestlers who dabbled in homoerotic wrestling I’ve ever seen. His pumped muscles, pouty lips, and perfectly proportioned bubble butt somehow never won a BG East year-end Bestie Award, which I’m sure is further evidence that the voting must be rigged. His match against Zip Zarella in front of a live audience at Wrestling with Pride still features on repeat in my short list of super hot wrestling fantasy matches. Fuck, the homoerotic wrestling universe needs to see more of Elite Eliot!

I’m still not exactly sure what happened to him, but it looks like the homoerotic wrestling universe tracked him down to milk more out of the fantasyman (thanks, homoerotic wrestling gods!). In this video available on Chase’s Watchfighters page and Eliot’s (!?), Eliot is sound asleep in his hotel bed when he’s rudely awakened by “room service,” in the the form of Chase Addams, standing there in tighty-whities, insisting that Eliot had ordered up a ball bashing. There’s a lot to this scenario that might defy belief. Like, there’s some confusion over whether the ball bashing service is complimentary, or if Eliot had to pay in advance. Maybe I can buy that room service shows up for this particular perk wearing nothing but underwear. But one thing I refuse to believe… will not accept… will not even entertain for a split second: I just cannot go along with the proposition that Elite Eliot doesn’t sleep in the nude.

In any case, the 14-minute room service-gone-wrong video is about 20% hilarious and 80% crotch-warming hot. Chase is way beefier and Eliot is a tad leaner than I’ve seen either of them before, so at the outset, I’m anticipating this is going to be a mismatch squash. But holy fuck, Eliot may have retired from professional wrestling, but he’s still got the moves! Chase has his way with the sleepy pretty boy while Eliot’s trying to get a handle on this room service/invasion scenario, but once he’s fully awake, Eliot fights back hard!

The action is back and forth, in this delightfully smooth way. Chase is going to town, clawing the fuck out of Eliot’s balls, slapping and punching the pretty boy ruthlessly in classic pro wrestling traps. But classic pro wrestling is Eliot’s first career, so I shouldn’t have been surprised to see him execute counters and deliver some super hot punishment of his own on the relentlessly earnest room service attendant who will not take “no” for an answer. “This is what I call a fucking chargeback,” Eliot snarls (making me suspect career #2 is in retail), as he traps Chase’s left arm in an armbar and lands a solid punch to Chase’s balls once he’s stretched out. Fuck, there are several moments along the way when I’m thinking this story is about Chase biting off way more than he can chew!

But, then again, Chase can chew a fucking big, big, big bite out of Eliot. His ball claws clamped around the pretty boy’s testicles are often what swats the retired indy pro’s rallies back down. With Eliot choking, a couple octaves higher than his speaking voice, Chase unloads his arsenals of joint wrenching, muscle twisting submission holds. “You know, I was just here for a ball bash, but given your attitude, I’m going to throw in this ass-whooping for free,” he explains, twisting Eliot’s arms into a leg nelson and showing off that incredibly lickable, hot torso on the retired pro.

So, there’s a ton of suspense for this brief encounter (pun intended). I don’t know until the bitter end who’s coming out on top, and there’s more than a full helping of surprises in store for both of these top notch wrestlers, too. It’s hotel room wrestling, so the setting dictates the limits of what even highly skilled and innovative wrestlers like these two can execute (though Eliot’s leap off the bed to drill Chase’s balls with a flying elbow is fucking inspired!). The Calvin Klein briefs take me way, way, way back to my adolescence, when everything made me horny… well, okay, maybe not so much has changed. But I swear, Eliot’s ass in those tighty-whities makes my mouth water, and the pretty boy’s clear VPL makes me ACHE to see him dragged out of retirement and back into the BG East ring. This is fun and clever. There’s someone holding the camera, which is absolutely necessary because the action spontaneously rolls all over that trashed hotel room. You can catch a preview here, and Hotel Ball Bash will run you $15.99, but seeing a retired indy pro heel in the wild forced to dust off his pro moves and try to defend his (seriously bulging!) balls against a sadistically super skilled homoerotic heel is pretty fucking priceless!

Lusciously Layered

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Charming Chase Addams has come a long way. I’ve interviewed Chase three times since he made such a huge splash in his BG East debut as an essential part of the multi-award winning Tag Team Torture 19 in 2016. You can listen to the audio of my most recent interview with Chase back in 2017, when I sat down with him down by the dock at BG East during a hot summer weekend of recording matches. For as long as I’ve known him, Chase has always had a “strong sense of self.” He showed up at BG East cocky, which isn’t so unusual, but Chase had the pro wrestling skills to back up his cockiness. While none of that has changed over the past 8 years, Chase has metamorphosed into one of the biggest personalities in the business.

Charming Chase Addams

In his newest match, Jobberpaloozer 24, Chase is fucking IN CHARGE. There are layers upon layers of allusion and backstory in this match, only some of which are fully excavated. Like, how did Mickey Knoxx end up in just a jock strap and that athletic cup muzzle, cowed and devoted to serve the Charming One? I’m not complaining about the cameo of Mickey’s gorgeous ass, mind you, but the provocative appearance is just rich texture to the world building of the opening moments of Jobberpaloozer 24. The scene is immediately lush with tension and suspense, with the deadly dangerous Queen of Hearts waiting for his bath to be run, letting his facial mask set as he works to calm the demons inside with meditation and deep breathing.

3-peat Jobber of the Year Forrest Taylor

So it’s stark narrative tension when Forrest Taylor shows up brimming with earnestness, challenging Chase to a match. Chase imperiously dismisses him out of hand. “What makes you think this is going to be any different, Forrest?” When I heard that line, I immediately pushed pause and checked the BGE catalog, because I don’t remember an earlier match, and BGE is notoriously stingy with rematches. And no, this is the first product we’ve seen Chase and Forrest in together, so again, the storytelling continues to grow three-dimensional with more layers of backstory. “I had a dream that I was going to win this time,” Forrest insists, and he’s just so fucking earnest about it. It’s not like Forrest is pretending to be something he’s not (after all, he is winner of 3 consecutive Jobber of the Year titles). His challenge isn’t exactly aggressive or heated. It’s just pristinely earnest. He’s on a hero’s quest handed down by the wrestling gods who graced him with the tempting taste of victory in a dream.

“I had a dream I was going to win this time!”

Chase is so over it all, though. It takes Forrest ripping the facial mask off of the Charming One’s face to finally get a rise out Chase, and then the thrashing is on. There’s so much lush context already, it’s almost beside the point to see the contrasts between these two. Chase is about half foot taller and (I’m guessing) 30 pounds heavier. The David vs Goliath angle is just another unspoken layer that dials up the tension. Within the first 10 seconds, Chase knees the dream-inspired redhead in the gut, chops a bright red handprint on Forrest’s lovely, lily white chest, flings him across the ring like a shot putter, and viciously steps on the stunned stud’s fingers. Then things really start going down hill for Forrest.

Chase has always been the master of punishing pro wrestling holds. These days, he serves up those innovative and intricate combo holds with even more indulgent helpings of erotic humiliation. For example, he plants Forrest in a tree of woe and stomps the living shit out of the hot little leprechaun, pounding the redhead down until the back of Forrest’s head rests on the mat. Then Chase adds insult to injury by sitting on Forrest’s face, just smothering the lucky little fucker under the Charming One’s beautiful cheeks. “How’s that vision quest working out for you so far?!”

Forrest digs really, really deep and gets a rally about halfway through this match. It’s fun to watch the redheaded stud’s anguish turn into a cocky sneer, as irrational optimism makes him drunk with just a taste of power. He slaps Chase in the face hard. He pounds the heel’s face into the turnbuckle. He yanks on Chase’s hair and flings the big man across the ring as if he was born to bully. “How’s it feel to be the jobber for once, huh,” Forrest demands to know, certain that the winds of fate are going to let him sail his way to earning back his demolished dignity.

Surely, I don’t need to give a spoiler alert for a Jobberpaloozer match, right? Suffice it to say, Chase unloads both barrels on the pretty boy, and reloads over and over again. I stand up and cheer when Chase executes his signature Will Breaker, and only a little bitter when Forrest is screaming his submission a half a second after getting strung up in the spine snapping hold. Chase is an artist, and his primary medium is molding a magnificently hot jobber like Forrest into homoerotic wrestling sculpture. “Are you humbled yet,” Chase shouts in Forrest’s face before stringing the hopeless redhead up in the ropes. He slaps Forrest’s pale body beet red. He smothers the bearded beauty with his crotch. He plants his ass in Forrest’s face again and again, eventually inspiring the redhead to defensively take a bite out of Chase’s lush cheeks. “Oh, you want to eat some ass?!” Chase seems both enraged and thrilled to have more reasons to thrash on his outmatched opponent. “Here’s the full course!”

Forrest can’t handle the Will Breaker

In a stroke of storytelling genius, when this match reaches its fated climax, we’re treated to a replay reel of highlights of every humiliating defeat Forrest has suffered at Chase’s hands. Forrest is flashing back to one decisive loss after another over the months (years?) he’s been trying to overcome the odds and defy his impeccable jobber cred to finally defeat the Charming One. It wasn’t just a fabricated backstory. Forrest has been thrashed by Chase five times before this match, and the glimpse we get of each loss is gorgeously decisive. You have to imagine Forrest has got the inside track on earning his fourth Jobber of the Year title, considering he loses six times to the same opponent in just this one release!

An artist at work

There’s still another layer to the storytelling involving Forrest arranging for Freddy Campbell to show up after the match with Fireball to toast what Forrest had been certain would be his first victory. Forrest has not learned any lessons whatsoever, as he vows “next time” will be the charm, giving us insight into the tragic depths of the most notorious jobber currently on the roster. And the homoerotic pro wrestling fan that I am, I love that naivete and irrational optimism. And I love Forrest’s petulance that keeps earning him more heel thrashings. And I’m infatuated with his sensationally beautiful ass that, like Mickey’s ass, was clearly robbed by not even making it to the ballot for Best Butt last year (despite me knowing for a FACT that they were both nominated!). Such awesome storytelling in this larger than life match make it one you shouldn’t miss, if you like diabolically sadistic heels, boundlessly hopeful jobbers, and the homoerotic sculpture of top notch pro wrestling holds.

Je Ne Sais Quoi

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BG East just dropped Catalog 169, and it’s full of exciting new matches and several new faces joining long-time favorites of mine. I immediately took a shine to the newbie babyface, so proudly from Canada, Mickey Knoxx, debuting in Jobberpaloozer 22.

This will sound like bullshit, but I’m going say it, and I absolutely mean it. The first thing about Mickey that entrances me are his eyes. They’re dazzlingly pretty, like impossibly so. Some joker who wrote the match description for the website calls them “piercingly ice blue,” but I’m not even sure if that’s right. They’re fluorescent gray somehow, but I don’t think that’s a physical possibility. Does he have white irises!? Is that anatomically possible? Fuck. I can’t stop staring at his eyes. And, fuck, yes, I’m the joker that wrote that match description, so I’ve been mulling this question over for a while now.

Okay, to say that I can’t stop staring at his eyes is, actually, bullshit. I definitely start with being riveted by his eyes, but, yeah, pretty quickly I’m staring at his ass. It’s a really, really beautiful ass. I’m not the only one who thinks so. In stars and stripes trunks, representing the classic American lack of even the barest wisp of cultural humility, even uber-patriotic Chase Addams confesses “You’ve got an ass that wants to make me sing ‘O Ca-na-da!” He drives home the point by spanking Mickey’s cheeks with each syllable, while our neighbor from the north is strung up helplessly in the ropes. Fuck, I get that, Chase. That is a spankable ass!

To start this match, Mickey is just exploring the place he’s long longed to be, BG East. Chase is already in the ring, nursing a little bitterness from being stood up for an earlier scheduled match. It all starts out remarkably cordial; so much so, that I start to wonder if these two are going to wrestle or just walk off arm in arm to grab a beer together. The first spark of heat is struck when Mickey, unsolicited, offers his opinion that he brings a certain “je ne sais quoi” factor to contribute to the BG East bench. “Someone’s got beginner’s ego,” Chase chides him, seemingly bristling at the French language. “Calm down there, Mr. Canada.”

The spark erupts into a full-blown wildfire (BTW, sending my best to all of you Canadian firefighters), around the time that Chase declares that the only worthwhile Canadian contribution to the arts is Celine Dion. Mickey asks, incredulously, “Celine Dion?! I hate her.” Somewhat hilariously, Chase is visibly offended, in defense of Celine. “She’s a national treasure,” he insists. Mickey snorts derisively and snarks back, “More like national trash.”

A legitimately hot shoving match sets off Chase, who unleashes 25 minutes of what Chase does best. Always innovating new ways to crush, cripple, and humiliate an opponent, woe betide the unlucky international visitor who finds his hot ass in Chase’s sights. Mickey munches on a lush, long dragon sleeper, with his face buried in Chase’s armpit, that shows off the newbie to perfection while demonstrating the veteran’s total command of his opponent’s body. Chase is fucking cruel when he gets on a roll, and he steamrolls right over hot bodied Mickey. Knees to the gut (and lower) repeatedly drop Mickey to all fours, only to be dragged back up by his ears a second later, to do it all over again. Mickey spends a boatload of time on his knees, staring at Chase’s crotch, struggling to catch his breath, teetering, dizzy on the brink of collapsing to the mat in a heap, and reconsidering a whole lot of life choices that led up to this relentless, soul crushing rookie wrecking.

Everything is classic Chase, from the expansive use of every corner of the ring, every rope, every turnbuckle to heap on piles of crushing punishment, to the speed-up/slow-down whiplash pacing of his blinding speed interspersed with long, lingering, luxuriously held holds. And Mickey sells like he’s been doing this for years. He rides that edge of helpless whimpers and blinding panic in a way that grabs me hard. There’s this almost betrayed tinge to his grunts and groans, as if he’s bitterly thinking “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” as his dreams of taking BG East by storm come crashing spectacularly down around him. Like every babyface hero, his demolition is a brutal object lesson, disabusing him of the notion of justice. Ignore the brochures, Mickey. The U.S. is not the meritocracy we like to pretend it is. You didn’t deserve any of the insane punishment Chase doled out to you, and yet, that’s exactly what you got. Fuck clean breaks and fair play and Canadian nice.

Leaping off the top turnbuckle with Mickey in a headlock, Chase plants that handsome face into the mat in a decisive bull dog that finally puts the rookie out of his misery… at least until he wakes up and realizes he’s still stuck on the wrong side of the Peach Arch. And I totally agree with Chase’s (albeit sarcastic) assessment of the newbie, as he’s covering the sleeping canuck with an American-themed pride flag. “I think you’re going to do great at BG, kid!”

Leather and Lace

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I love a hot, homoerotic wrestling story. This is self-evident, I realize, but it’s the starting point for this review of BG East’s inaugural “Cosplay” match. I mean, I like hot bodies grappling under pretty much any context, of course. My buttons are reliably pushed simply by the combination of hot hunks battling for domination. But it’s more than just value-added for me when a wrestling match has big, bold personalities, with explicit motivations, telling a story with an introduction, the building of suspense, perhaps a few surprises, and then a satisfyingly decisive conclusion that doesn’t just determine who “wins” but wraps up the drama with clever call backs and the final release of all that suspense.

Honestly, I cued up Cosplay solely on the promise of getting to see Chase Addams and Dante Lesen in the ring. I’ve been a Chase fan from that beginning. His aesthetics are fucking beautiful. When I enjoyed the opportunity to interview Chase at BG East several years ago, he sat there in front of me in wrestling trunks and boots, and I had a hard time keeping myself on task. There’s something about his body that makes me swoon, and it’s not just his award-winning nipples. And gorgeous rookie Dante Lesen literally made me gasp when I saw him walk into the mat room in his debut match. His proportions, his handsome face, and that ass…. Fuck, yeah, so solely on judging the book by its cover, I was always going to pull Cosplay off the shelf and thumb through the pages.

I’m happy to report that Cosplay does more than just showcase the beauty of these two hunks grappling. In fact, it’s a relatively high concept match, which BG East has been producing more of recently. It’s a story-forward homoerotic wrestling match that establishes a little mystery and some significant suspense from the start. Lovely, lovely Dante has eagerly signed on to a meet-up with veteran wrestling heel and blossoming kinkster Chase, to get them both in the mood before showing up at Folsom-themed festival. In the interest of transparency, I should say that I’ve only admired gay cosplay from a distance, and I’ve absolutely only been a tourist when it comes to Folsom Street Fair and BDSM and leather culture. But Cosplay 1 brings me right along accessibly, pretty immediately and explicitly sorting out the drama of newbie pup hunk Dante needing to get dominated and trained by leather and lace butch queen Chase.

Chase overwhelmingly dominates, which isn’t a surprise. However, I LOVE fierce, brief, little glimpses of Dante on offense. After my interview with Dante, it’s particularly fascinating to watch him dance along that line of bringing it and sucking on it. He sells the fierce young hunk who, sure, wants to be dominated, but needs to be conquered first. So, when Chase conquers him, also delighting in those flashes of Dante’s ferocity, it’s extra sweet. Dante sets the bar high. Chase needs to out-wrestle and control him before he’s going to be willing to get collared. Dante pretty much demands to be punished and pushed to the edge of fear and agony, if Chase is going to earn the right to be his sweaty, sneering alpha. And right there and then, Chase steps into the role with an enthusiasm that I don’t think I’ve ever seen from him before.

Okay, so I should say that I’m NOT a fan of a video so devoted to the concept that the wrestling gets shortchanged. I’ve seen matches like that, and they’ve definitely missed the bullseye for me. But this is Chase fucking Addams, so my wrestling kink is firmly stroked over and over. He snaps on a half a dozen finishing submissions, and I swear Chase looks like he loves the extra challenges and opportunities posed by a superfit 6’3 stud with outrageously high tolerance for pain and seemingly infinite capacity for sucking down physical and erotic humiliation. He uses leg locks and arm bars to maximum effectiveness, exploiting Dante’s long limbs. Scissors, a super sexy leg nelson (a hold I’m growing more and more infatuated with), and a spine tingling lion tamer bring the wrestling that moves me most.

And then, fuck, when Chase rips the singlet off beautiful Dante, the combination of aesthetics and wrestling domination are intoxicating! The rookie’s insanely hot ass becomes the star of the show for me, when he’s stripped to mesh trunks and a jockstrap. He’s a mile long and served up for a fucking when Chase rips him open wide in a spladle. Bound in the ropes to get relentlessly groped, whipped, and molded into a gasping, pleading, obedient hunk pup, Dante’s descent is compelling and so fucking beautiful to watch.

I assume there are wrestling fans who may not get into the leather and lace alpha wrestling queen kinkster that Chase sells convincingly in this match. No judgment from me, but as for me, I’m loving it hard. I love the brutally playful fucking around with masculinity and aggression. There’s a lot of wrestling marketed to gay audiences these days that involves very, very, very, very little that’s all that gay about it. See my comments above about my buttons and enjoying the surface of hot guys wrestling, but FUCK, give me some queer wrestling! Bring the explicit sexiness. Let the guys enjoy each other’s bodies, and ESPECIALLY let them enjoy battling to dominate and control each other’s bodies BECAUSE it’s sexually arousing. If we skim off the foam of all of the not-so-gay-for-pay wrestling fare (again, I’m not judging, and absolutely get off on my fair share of hunks wrestling without a spark of open eroticism), the portion of the homoerotic wrestling productions these days that’s as delightfully homoerotic as Cosplay 1 is pretty tiny.

Which is yet another reason I recommend Cosplay. It’s a provocative, compelling, clever and sexy story well told, and it’s unapologetically homoerotic. If you’re into homoerotic wrestling, and not just how wrestling turns you on, this is an in-your-face delight.

“You may be my new favorite plaything!”

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Woah. In Sexy Showdown 15, Chase Addams goes places we’ve never seen him go before! I’m clearly not the only one surprised by the… depths… Chase goes to in this match. Babyface Freddy Campbell is obviously a bit taken aback when his opponent locks on one of a dozen incapacitating armbar/wristlocks he has in his quiver. The armbar isn’t a surprise, mind you. Chase has been threatening to snap opponent’s elbows from day one with armbars, typically amended to other brutal submission holds in astonishingly innovative ways. No, the surprise comes when he starts sucking on Freddy’s trapped fingers. “What the FUCK are you doing,” Freddy cries out in surprise.

“You have one sick, twisted, pervy way of wrestling, Chase Addams, do you know that!?” Freddy is visibly freaked out and suddenly needing to reassess what he thought he knew about Chase. “Oh, I have MULTIPLE pervy ways of fighting,” Chase acknowledges proudly, and proceeds to demonstrate the truth of those words for the next 35 minutes.

I don’t know what Freddy’s boyfriend, Ash DeLeon, is feeding him, but fuck, he’s harder and sexier every match. He also executes some sweetly assertive offense that signals that Chase isn’t the only one with some new tricks up his sleeves. “There are a couple things you don’t know, Chase,” Freddy declares, stretching the sweaty, tanned sadist out in a seated surfboard. “One, I’m not so much a jobber anymore. And two, you now have very pullable hair!”

Despite Freddy showing his mean streak with hair pulls and vicious punches to Chase’s gut, I think the jury may still be out on the jobber thing. Because, fuck, he gets twisted, battered, and messed over relentlessly throughout most of this match. I curiously start to overheat when Chase is high in the saddle of a camel clutch, and he stretches his fingers around the babyface’s handsome cheeks and applies double fishhooks that look like, no shit, he might just peel Freddy’s face right off!

Things are going really, really bad for Freddy. Or, alternately, really, really fantastic for fans of absolutely brutal, screaming, wailing, weeping submission holds. I voted for this match to win Best Submission of 2022. But, Freddy’s bid to distance himself from qualifying for jobber of the year sort of evaporates when Chase ties his arms in the ropes, forcing him to watch his utter, soul crushing, body surrendering humiliation in the mirrored wall in front of him. Chase rips the trunks off of that astonishingly round ass, making me question for a half second my vote for Forrest Taylor as the Best Butt of 2022 (but, no, I still say Forrest’s ass is top shelf!). And the babyface pretty boy is helpless, as that lily white ass is getting whipped. Frustrated, Freddy pries one arm free from the ropes, and I’m thinking, for just a moment, we’re about to see a full on naked ass-kicking comback.

But then Freddy starts to jerk off! Oh, shit, Freddy, the case you were making that you aren’t “so much a jobber anymore” is seriously weakened! “Cum for me, bitch,” Chase demands, tormenting his nipples, squeezing his balls, egging him on.

Many years ago, I once discussed with Chase his prospects for translating his super intense, high class pro wrestling submission skills into fully explicit erotic combat. At the time, he was weighing his options, acknowledging that fans like me were jonesing for his hot bod and sadistic attitude and gallons of sweat to dial it up a few notches, but still working out exactly what his brand is. Well, gentleman, Chase is fucking with your preconceived notions, just like he fucked up beautiful, vulnerable Freddy Campbell and left him knocked out cold, with perhaps just a little hicky to send a message to Freddy’s rising heel boyfriend, Ash. “Tell your boyfriend that if he wants lessons, now that he’s a wannabe heel, he knows where to find me.” Fuck, pass the popcorn!

Will Breaker

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AR is genuinely low-key genius when it comes to his eye for homoerotic wrestling. One of the unexpectedly fun aspects of my recent collaboration with him, co-creating with me my first illustrated homoerotic wrestling fiction, was the particular give and take of the creative process. At times, I’d take the lead with some text, describing the scene, detailing a hold, scripting the dialogue. Then, like half a day later, AR would have created a 3D image in astonishing detail of that moment that had, just hours earlier, only existed in my mind’s eye. At other times, he would craft an image of a hold or a plot point, and then I’d write the text through the middle of the lane markers that he so skillfully generated for the story. It was a very cool creative process that we’re already investing in replicating.

One of the coolest moments in the creative process of putting together the Focus Group homoerotic wrestling match, featuring Ryan Gosling and Timothée Chalamet, was near the end of our work, when AR asked if we were missing a beat in the narrative. We built this moment in the plot when one hot, hard hunk is at the brink of despair, and AR asked the perfect question, of whether the action we’d constructed sufficiently and convincingly shoved the poor, gorgeous fucker over that edge. It was AR’s idea to add one more hold to fully justify the way the story unfolds, and he was the one who suggested that we use the Will Breaker.

Charlie Evans in the Will Breaker in Ring Rookies 5

I know this hold from Charming Chase Addams’ matches, and from having enjoyed the opportunity in the past to hear Chase talk about the development of the hold, and his creative process in coming up with the name for it. Chase is an innovator, and a passionately devoted student of the science and art of pro wrestling. The range of holds in his arsenal is pretty fucking incredible, particularly when I think about how ridiculously young and pretty he is. (Not that being pretty has anything to do with it. I just wanted to mention how pretty Chase is.)

Kirk Donahue in the Will Breaker in Florida Fights 7, winner of 2018 Best Submission!

I don’t think I really fully appreciated the complexity and beauty of the Will Breaker until it came time for me to try to describe, in words, one homoerotic wrestler applying the hold to another. Like, fuck, the words fail me! I watch him do it, mind you. It’s not like some mystery that happens behind a curtain somewhere. The spotlight over the ring allows no slight of hand or smoke and mirrors. I watch him do it, and even still, it’s fucking complex and nuanced and mysterious!

Tiko meets the Will Breaker in Chase’s Wrestler Spotlight Collection.

AR suggested something similar in his creative process of constructing a 3D render of the hold. He mentioned needing to painstakingly place each limb and joint, because there are no software shortcuts to create something like that. It’s not a position the human body was meant to easily slip into, or to endure for very long, so shaping a 3D rendering was, as I understand it, a significant challenge. And, thus, I repeat myself when I say that AR is a low-key genius. As soon as I publish this post, I’m going to get an email from him, humbly insisting on a disclaimer from my praise, but don’t believe him. He’s fucking brilliant.

Chase is, obviously, brilliant at what he does, as well. He’s not low-key about it, though. Chase knows his own genius, and he strips down to nearly nothing, climbs into a wrestling ring in front of a room full of cameras and microphones, and does magic like this that makes me gasp.

Christian Taylor gets the Will Breaker in Chase’s debut, in Tag Team Torture 19, Best Ring Match and Best Overall Match of 2016!

Anyway, I’m appreciating today these two young geniuses with such a passion for the science and art of homoerotic wrestling, of one fierce hunk taking possession of another, crushing one man’s hopes and dignity, and handing his body entirely over to his opponent. In their own ways, AR and Chase both get it, so deeply and fully!

Richie Douglas reaches Will Breaker perfection in Ring Wars 32, Best Ring Match and Best Submission of 2019 (see a pattern!?)