I’m happily making headway on the final match of the Secretarial Pool auditions. Those of you not particularly following the story in my wrestling fiction may be a bit bored with my postings on the topic, but I’m finding that getting my imagination fully engaged with these boys intensely and repeatedly to write this elimination tournament is quite an intimate experience. Even when I’m not writing about them, I catch myself thinking about them. If you haven’t read a match yet, be forewarned that today’s post is a post-mortem on the also-rans whose fates have already been decided in the unfolding story in my wrestling fiction.
Of course, it helps that these boys are gorgeous hunks of muscle. Try to squeeze Alan Ritchson’s bubble butt into a skimpy speedo, and I’m doomed to ruminate on him. Alan was the first to get his ass kicked out of the tournament. He was nothing if not overconfident in his first round match up. He assumed that Jared Prudoff was going to be a pushover, little more than a rung in the ladder that Alan would be climbing up to grab the brass ring. Little did Alan realize that he’d drawn perhaps the shortest straw in the bunch, going head to head with the competitor that would be the first to clinch a spot in the finals of the tournament. In typical Jared-style, Alan was suckered, drained, and then put away wet. I imagine him, these days, lounging by a pool, obsessively replaying what went wrong for him in his bid for a recurring role in the world of my wrestling imagination.
The next slab of beef kicked to the curb in the tournament was Jakub Stefano. Jakub was seriously difficult for me to let go of, after Nick Auger schooled him so viciously in the importance of committing to a job and seeing it through all the way to the end. In my imagination, at least, Jakub is quite a sympathetic character. He’s a surprisingly gentle giant, genetically gifted with the body of a god, but more comfortable with being worshipped than with using those muscles to dominate. I fondly picture Jakub these days with a splint around his broken finger, enthusiastically self-worshiping in the shower, perhaps more than a little turned on by the vivid memory of finding himself entirely at the mercy of eventual tournament finalist Nick.
Next out the door was the big, confident power of Sean Sullivan. Sean was also particularly difficult for me to see exit the tournament. Sean may have been a little distracted by setting his initial sights on Ellis McCreadie. Sean thought that he had his first round match all sewn up, with an underhanded ambush to start with and his relentless, dominating power to subdue fashion boy Rafael Verga. He seriously did not see it coming when Rafael entirely derailed him with tongue-wrestling as a prelude to stripping Sean naked and spreading his legs wide with Rafael’s foot poised on top of Sean’s balls. I imagine Sean still can’t quite believe that he was beaten, and he lives in fear that the story of his humiliating stripping and beating will get out.
The final first round loser was the Kerry Degman. Kerry’s speed and skill were entirely unmatched by his opponent, Ellis McCreadie. Kerry had his way with Ellis, nearly from the beginning to the end of the match. Kerry had Ellis completely at his mercy repeatedly, from taking him to the brink of unconsciousness with Kerry’s ass smothering his face, to back to back rapid-fire suplexes, Kerry put together a can’t-miss game plan to secure victory. Somehow, still, he missed. By sheer, dumb luck, Ellis managed to snatch victory out of the jaws of defeat just as he planted his own victorious cock inside the jaws of his beaten opponent. I can’t help but think that Kerry’s skill and beauty won’t stay down for long, and despite this set back, he has all the right assets to thrive in the postmodern world of my imagination.
The semi-finals were populated by competitors that I was loathe to see knocked out of contention. I could imagine dozens of fights starring the devastatingly handsome Rafael Verga, for example, and never get tired of setting him loose on still one more opponent. Like Alan in the first round, though, Rafael ran into the buzz saw of finalist Jared. Still, the way I picture him, Rafael is sexually irrepressible, devastating with strikes, and thoroughly miserable to have been humiliated at the hands of Jared (said hands clawing at Rafael’s balls as he was captured in an over-the-knee-backbreaker). Some time away, fishing shirtless and meditating on the direction of his life and career, are likely in order for the Brazilian beauty.
First to get an invitation to the tournament and last to be eliminated prior to the final match, Ellis McCreadie is another beautiful boy that’s hard to say goodbye to. Ellis survival into the semi-finals was as mysterious as the source of the call inviting him to claim a spot in the auditions. Ellis took a lot of punishment from start to finish, even prior to walking into the rec room, and still he managed to rise way above expectations. His victory lap after forcing a submission from Kerry Degman in round one gave just a hint of what sort of fighter a seriously confident Ellis could turn into. Much more than confidence, strength or skill, what Ellis excelled in was in bringing a stunning string of luck to bear upon his matches. That, paired with his ability to endure prolonged, humiliating punishment, gave him staying power that’s hard to part with. I imagine Ellis will continue to ride his incredible string of good luck to land on his feet, despite submitting in a seated rear choke under threat of being plowed unconscious by finalist and muscleboy extraordinaire, Nick.
Frankly, I strongly suspect you’ll be seeing at least a couple of these worthy competitors again, considering the difficulty I have in saying goodbye to them. I’ll be publishing the final contest pitting Nick against Jared shortly, finally bringing to a close the long, slow unfolding of this tournament of champions. The only thing to count on at this point is that there will be one last goodbye before the auditions are history.
Sidelineland 
