More Mayhem

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!

Wrestlefest Live – 2025

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!