It was a pleasure to get to interview in 2013 Muscle Master Kevin, the CEO of the newest kids on the homoerotic wrestling block, Muscle Domination Wrestling. I found Kevin to be a deeply thoughtful and reflective young hunk, with a keen eye to feed both his entrepreneurial drive and his sincere desire to please his fans. There are paradoxes upon paradoxes when it comes to MMK. He has one of the babiest faces in the business mounted atop the body of a Greek god. He’s merciless in his ring and absolutely revels in the agonizing suffering of his opponents, but outside the ring he’s a keen conversationalist with a tender underbelly of self-deprecation that peeks through on extremely rare (and that much sexier for it) moments. His online persona is one of total carnal focus, with muscle and muscle domination being the first, middle, and last part of every story he tells, but the stud is literary-minded, introspective and meticulously well-spoken. I’m happy to have him as a friend of neverland, and thrilled to to pass along his new year’s greeting for homoerotic wrestling fans.
Oh, I’m watching, Kevin. I’m watching. I’d wish you luck as you launch into another year of empire-building, but I get the impression that your business success, like your phenomenal physique, has absolutely nothing to do with luck. And you know where to find me when MDW fans demand to see a wrestling blogger worship that fantasy body of yours in the coming year.
Muscle Domination Wrestling has recently released season 7, and there are some great surprises there. One of the biggest surprises for me was seeing big, beautiful Braden Charron in what appears to be a squash glove fetish match. I haven’t seen it yet, but I was unable to resist getting my eyes on the climactic season finale of the Super Men saga. Muscle Master Kevin and Damien Rush starring in a superhero ring match!? I’m there.
For those who have not watched the entire series, this finale is the culmination of intrigues piled upon intrigues, betrayals and corruption, and one incredibly hot superhero after another getting conquered and crushed by the original Super-Stud-turned-evil, Super Heel. The mysterious time traveling hunk in a mask and a black bodysuit, The Suit, got more than he bargained for when he tricked Super Stud into drinking Alpha Male juice. So Suit rescues hunky Super Stud II, Damien Rush, peels him out of his super suit (hell, yes), and begins giving him a full body massage to rejuvenate the battered hero for another go at his nemesis.
He gives Damien’s sweet ass particularly loving attention with a deep muscle massage that leaves Damien groaning and soaking up Suit’s promise to give him the strength and the ally he needs to beat the evil Super Heel once and for all. He gives Super Stud II his newest, most potent “serum,” so-called “heel juice” which Damien swallows enthusiastically as The Suit strokes himself with excitement. When a newly rejuvenated, more pumped than every Super Stud II starts to flex his newly invigorated muscles, Suit can’t keep his hands off them, which seems to do nothing but stoke Damien harder and more intense.
The unlikely tag team partners are full of confidence when they arrive ringside to put Super Heel in his place once and for all. True enough, the opening test of strength appears to be a stalemate, with advantage veering toward the double team’s way as Suit freezes time and pounds Super Heel’s vulnerable, frozen muscles. This is the first real challenge posed to the evil-consumed Super Heel. Could the deal-with-the-devil tag team have finally dialed up the super villain’s number? Oh fuck no! Super Heel isn’t using even 2% of his Alpha Male super villain strength. When he really tries, all he has to do his flex his hot, lycra-encased muscles and both Super Stud II and The Suit are dropped to their knees.
The Suit is nearly choke-slammed right out of this world. Even as Super Stud II pleads with him to rally, the self-serving hunk in black freezes time and flees the scene, leaving Super Stud II at the mercy of the malevolence and sadism of Super Heel. Those who know MDW already know the tone of a Muscle Master Kevin squash. There’s a non-stop monologue of the blue-eyed, whisker-faced babyface badboy, describing his destiny for domination even as he rips Super Stud’s hot, doomed body apart joint by going.
Super Stud suffers long and hard, more and more humiliated with each passing second. These are two of my favorite bodies locked in intimate, punishing holds, with lavish loads of taunting and verbal torment making equal parts delicious cake and sweet icing. There’s a poignant moment when Super Stud II pleads for the Suit to return, to come to his rescue. His mental anguish is almost as sexy as his corporal punishment. Please, please, he begs for Suit to return to the fray. He doesn’t.
A few meta-narrative notes to share: Damien’s ass squeezed into a metallic lycra super suit nearly converts me to a full on lycra fetishist. That. Ass! There’s also something almost supernatural (coincidentally) about how brightly Kevin’s incredibly blue eyes shine next to Damien’s blue bodysuit. Technically, the wrestling is second to the narrative in this match, so serious wrestling fans should be cautioned: this is much more aimed at kitsch, superhero, and lycra kinks than it’s directly aimed at wrestling fanatics. But that said, Damien is suffering more convincingly every time I see him. Muscle Master Kevin’s sell of the effortless demigod is almost too convincing. I’m more moved by hot, dominating effort than such a squash that the boy on top would never break a sweat in a million years. But there are enough lingering scissors, chokes, and just enough slams filling up the ring to keep me on board.
Finally, I want to note that Muscle Domination Wrestling is starting to distinguish themselves as boy geniuses in the business, not for their world class sells, not for a particularly innovative business model, not for production quality… but for vocabulary. There’s a strong whiff of college nerds turned wrestling hunks about this match. What other homoerotic wrestling match do you know of that includes dialogue featuring words such as “dystopia,” “temerity,” and “hubris.” Over the top macho domination and a well-read, $20-word chatter is a sweet combination that makes me smile.
Oh, and back to the narrative, don’t push “stop” when the scene fades to black. There’s a post-script stinger with the appearance of a furry, naked ass getting slipped into gray lycra. A new super character slowly turns, revealing himself, looking like someone who’s ready to pose a new and serious challenge to Super Heel for evil world domination. I smell a season 2!
Who are you dressing up as for Halloween? I thought long and hard about it, and I decided to shave my head, put on a sneer, and wear ass-kicking boots, blue jeans, a black shirt. That’s right, for Halloween, I’m going as…
…Kid Vicious. Sure, nobody at the party will get it. But in the spirit of Kid Vicious, what the fuck do I care? I’ll just sneer and look threatening. Good times guaranteed. Here are some other homoerotic wrestler inspired Halloween characters you might consider.
There’s a new superhero in town, and he’s Damien Rush! The new “Super Stud,” who accepted the mantle from retiring Super Stud, Kevin, has only about a 7-second cameo in the opening chapter of Muscle Domination Wrestling’s new serial production, Super Men, but it’s a potent 7-seconds. Damien’s awakened by the sound of the alarm calling him to get out of bed and suit up. We see his hot, hairy pecs, and then just a glimpse of his sweet ass before it’s encased in spandex. But Super Stud v. 2.0 must wait for another day, because this introductory chapter to MDW’s Super Men has other fish to fry.
The original Super Stud, now retired, is Kevin. An awestruck and somewhat lustfully admiring ambush journalist catches Kev as he arrives at work one day for some backstory. Kevin explains that he literally passed the mantle to the new Super Stud in order to devote his full attention to his business interests around the world. “I have all your action figures!” the journalist behind the camera gushes like a true fan, “and your outfits!” Kev indulges the drooling fan with a brief, unscheduled interview, remarking on the extraterrestrial origins of his high tech super suit that he’s passed along to the new Super Stud. “Ooooo,” the journalist swoons a little at the description of the skin tight outfit, “that must be special leather! Mmmmmmm….”
Unbeknownst to Kevin, the devilish machinations of super villainy are at that very moment plotting to not only suck him back into the arena of supes, but to pervert his upstanding, straight as an arrow, moral high ground convictions and transform him into a new breed of unstoppable super villain. The masked villain with the plan is cruel and manipulative. He can stop time and bend a mortal’s will with nothing but his super mind. He’s taken another superhero’s girlfriend hostage, and uses her to force muscle bulging Captain Twink to lure Kevin into his trap. Sure, it’s a little complicated, but establishing backstory for an audience craving homoerotic wrestling action is always a thankless task. Trust me.
Unfortunately for the masked villain, his plan goes awry the moment he slips Kevin some alpha-catalyst. Kevin does, indeed, lose control of his power and emerge in a black and silver negative image of his superhero suit. He is, indeed, filled with a lust to destroy all forces of good. However, he isn’t in any mood to share the conquest, and his first crushing blow is delivered to the villain who brought this monster to life in the first place.
But the homoerotic wrestling scenario is really all about this new Super Heel practicing the art of destruction on hapless, helpless, lusciously vulnerable muscleman, Captain Twink. Regular fans of MDW will recognize the actor immediately. He’s been bashed and battered over and over by MDW’s stable of heels for seasons on end now. But holy shit in the bathwater, that luscious bubble butt and massive crotch package he’s smuggling have never looked as mouthwatering as when they’re suction-packed inside metallic blue spandex!
The wrestling is nothing but an unmitigated squash from start to finish. Captain Twink never lays a hand on the Super Heel. Kev instantly makes it his mission to rip the Cap’n’s spandex supersuit from his hot body (thus instantly owning me as a Super Heel fan). The boys sell high impact crushing, stomping, and especially the throwing with considerably more skill than they deliver their lines. Not hating here, just observing that no one, with the possible exception of Damien, is going to be nominated for an Oscar for their performances thus far in Super Men. But this will not be news to the MDW boys, so I’m not too worried about hurting their feelings.
What MDW continues to perfect is the wholesale, all-in, ruthlessly earnest sell, and they bring that spirit to Super Men with a vengeance. They have a reason (other than to titillate) for Super Heel to slowly, but surely, rip the spandex off of Captain Twink’s suffering body. And suffering, the Cap’n does! Screams, wails, dips into and out of consciousness, Captain Twink is the epitome of gorgeous, muscled power crushed and made completely impotent. He’s broken, bloodied, and left for dead before Super Heel is quite done, but the final stroke is the Cap’n’s unmasking, with a flexing, crowing, infinitely monologuing Super Heel promising to both kill Captain Twink’s sister and systematically destroy and unmask all of the remaining superheroes left in the world.
Kevin and the MDW boys are having some fun, and it shows, and it’s delightful to watch. There’s a promise of a through-story. There’s a full on commitment to a narrative. And there’s rip-n-strip muscle squash wrestling. I’ve long argued for more through-stories in homoerotic wrestling, and I’m pleased as punch to see MDW take up the challenge and bring their sickly creative imaginations to the drawing board. Don’t be too hard on them for production quality or acting chops, because, as far as I know, these aren’t Julliard trained thespians. They’re hunky, handsome, ripped homoerotic wrestlers who like to tickle fans’ sensitive spots, tweak both our kinks and our craving for novelty, and deliver enthusiastically packaged homoerotic wrestling drama.
Now, when Super Heel starts to peel his vanquished foes’ spandex right off all their bulges, then those awards are going to start pouring in, I promise you!
Muscle Master Kevin is the boy-genius at Muscle Domination Wrestling who has staked a claim as the newest contender to battle for the homoerotic wrestling audience. MMK stepped right into the potential stink of conflict between the sub-dom kink audience and the homoerotic wrestling audience (which does not overlap in all places, by any means) when I spoke with him in May, and somehow I thought MMK came out of that tricky situation smelling just fine.
When Muscle Master Kevin isn’t busy running his MDW empire, he tosses the muscle worship fanatics occasional bones with his muscle worship/domination-themed website, Muscle Master Kevin. For non-subscribers, you can sort out occasional bones of your own by following MMK on his FaceBook page, where he’ll link to YouTube video updates on his magnificent muscular development.
Damn, the vasularity on MMK does wonders for my cardiovascular health! The sweet pump he has in those upper arms and pecs makes my mouth water. What Kevin refers to as “the genetic gifts” of his perfect nips are stunningly hot, and I guarantee the moment I watch a sub-dom-themed MMK video where some lucky blogger bastard gets to lick those headlights for hours will top me off for days on end.
While Kevin made no claims to merit to explain his luscious nips, he did proudly point out that his “nice V-shape” of a torso is something that he’s earned through serious devotion and hard work, as goes for his “thick, striated, often hairy chest.” On muscle worship cred alone, the only thing missing here for my personal needs is to see baby oil slowly massaged into those hot pecs. And of course, baby oiled lustfully and then wrestling another hardbodied hunk would add up to a serious drop in blood flow to my brain.
I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart (and a hard spot elsewhere) for these personal cam show youtube uploads like this. There’s the opportunity to suck on eye candy, of course. And MMK knows better than most how to capitalize on the format to yank on the strings of homoerotic muscle fanatics. But there’s also something inadvertently real. We can see that MMK makes his bed. Fuck, I love that in a man. He flexes so intensely that most muscular pose that not only do his veins explode, but he quivers, and quivering muscle is a slice of gold that you just can’t fake in my book. Kevin is all alone, struggling to position himself in the view of the stationary camera just right, squatting a little to get his lovely upper pecs in frame, all adding to this sense of spontaneous intimacy and immediacy. It’s a sweet genre that makes me think of the more intentionally formatted “muscle showcase” products that Can-Am and BG East used to produce, showing essentially muscle worship testimonials of the wrestlers we ache for, sometimes following them home, watching them sleep (naked), observing them eating (naked), delighting in them providing a “private” muscle show just for you. Intimacy and immediacy can suffer if video kink is too controlled and contrived, so taking a break from my main drug of choice (homoerotic wrestling) to take a sweet hit of a poorly lighted “private” cam show from Muscle Master Kevin is a solid compliment and pleasing change of pace.
My recent interview with Muscle Master Kevin, resident boss at Muscle Domination Wrestling, sparked precisely the conversation and contention I expected it would. MDW is the newest kid on the homoerotic wrestling block, and in carving out their unique niche in the market, they’ve straddled some lines that leave many titillated, some provoked, and at least a few uncomfortable. I have to say that I found Kevin remarkably thoughtful and well-spoken, embracing a non-defensive posture even while addressing concerns that MDW’s domination/submission focused products may appeal to the internalized homophobia some of their gay audience. Agree with him or not about the quality and meaning of the content, Kevin’s motto is clearly centered on giving fans what they want. I really hadn’t been exposed to much of the more “controversial” content at MDW, so Kevin sent along both a primarily wrestling-focused match and a primarily sub/dom themed squash for me to sample. Here’s my take on MDW’s sub-dom demonstration, Glove Fetish Beatdown.
I had to look up the name of Kevin’s opponent from the website, because he’s called a lot of things in these 23 minutes, but never his actual name. The lean, boldly tatted kid is called Hunter James, which seems like a much bolder name than befits a deer-in-the-headlights like he is in this squash. When I say squash, I mean that this is 100% Kevin. Hunter has zero offense. His contribution to this scene is almost entirely limited to his screams, wails, and anguished cries of pain. He apparently thinks he’s here to get some instruction in full contact combat, donning nothing but sparring gloves and mid-thigh undergear. His mere suggestion that Muscle Master Kevin might be his “instructor” sends the boss over the edge, initiating non-stop brutality that grinds Hunter physically and, especially, psychologically into the mat. Within seconds, Kevin has beaten the air out of his lungs and driven the kid to the edge of panic and despair. As Kevin promises, this is going to be a long night for young Hunter James.
There are some sweet highlights of moves and holds that stroke the wrestling kink fanatic in me just fine. There’s a moment when Kevin has Hunter’s noggin trapped high and tight between his thighs. Kevin rolls him over and repeatedly lifts his hips, and then drives his opponent’s forehead into the mat. Fuck, I love that move. The total humiliation and ownership is incredibly tasty. Kev’s hot ass rises and falls over and over, stoking me harder and harder. Hunter’s face plows repeatedly into the mat. He’s got nothing as he’s pounded into a limp, dizzy mess. Kevin finally rises on his knees, Hunter’s head still trapped between them, and flexes his biceps, showing off his gorgeous V and powerful shoulders. Yes, I get way into that maneuver whenever I see it, and Kevin works it beautifully.
The dicier moments for political correctness come no sooner than about halfway through the scenario. Kevin has been unloading a steady barrage of soul-withering trash talk the entire time, battering to pieces Hunter’s ego-strength and demonstrating with words and actions that he’s a mealy worm next to the power and domination of Muscle Master Kevin. Misogynistic themes that, let’s face it, run throughout homoerotic wrestling are peppered liberally throughout, as Kevin berates his opponent as a bitch and a pussy. Then when he’s crushing Hunter’s windpipe with a nasty choke, the kid coughs and gasps, inspiring Kevin to mutter, “Listen to you sputtering like a fucking fountain!” The apt metaphor makes me chuckle a bit. Then, suddenly, Kevin unleashes a veritable litany of boundary bashing provocations. “A pussy. A bitch. A twink! A faggot! A grunt!! You’re a jobber, that’s what you are!” The term “fairy” pops up a few minutes later. The terms pussy, faggot, and fairy are the ones that pretty much pull me out of the moment, but as I’ve said before, the strictly sub-dom genre, which can definitely include gay men totally into that type of verbal assault, isn’t my thing.
I do, however, enjoy a fine looking man, and when the cool wave of discomfort washes away, I return my attention to appreciating the real star of the show, Muscle Master Kevin’s gorgeous muscles and beautiful face. Fuck, the stud has HUGE traps! Hot wrestling does exactly what this squash manages to do, and that is display stunning bodies beautifully as they work the magic of wrestling. As Kevin flatly proclaimed, he’s got simply perfect nips and veiny bis that are hard to take your eyes off of. How a babyface beauty this pretty built his own empire as a dominating heel is a bit of a mystery to me. He likes to purse his lips and stare straight into the camera, which does nothing but remind me over and over that the man has a boyish handsomeness that’s simply remarkable. I’d so love to see him show up on some other Boston-based production’s doorstep as Clark Kent, a mild mannered, self-contained studpuppy who fights a good game but gets his beautiful ass handed to him repeatedly by dirty, no good heels. Having chatted with Muscle Master Kevin, however, I put the chances of that happening at somewhere around 1,000 to 1.
What Kevin does best, besides look dazzlingly beautiful, is convey with perfect clarity his full attention on his audience. It’s not like he needs to give Hunter too much attention. Stick a fork in him at about the 2 minute mark, because he’s already done way back then. But this squash, and let’s face it, the career of Muscle Master Kevin, is about what’s going on between him and you. He stares into the camera frequently, even as he lays down more humiliating banter expressly directed at Hunter, successfully welcoming you into the heart of this altercation. And here’s where I think Kevin dangerously straddles a fence that I actually suspect he may not even be aware of. Sub-dom fanatics, I’d bet money, are captured in Kevin’s gaze and hear his humiliating taunts and own them entirely. He may be crushing and gloating over Hunter James, but I’m sure there are MMK fans who feel it deeply as Kevin crushing and gloating over them. To those who want to be dominated, owned, and made a muscle stud’s “bitchboy” (as Kevin explains he’s doing to Hunter), Kevin’s fixed stare into the camera delivers exactly that. But then again, there are many of us into homoerotic wrestling that actually love the busting through the 4th wall as a nod to the voyeur-class among us. Kev’s sly grin at the camera makes me smile, as if the rock hard gladiator is dedicating his performance to nobody else but me. He’s expressly giving me what I want, which is not to be called a faggot fairy, but to watch a gorgeously muscled man crush and claim an outmatched opponent. Kevin turns his attention from the camera slowly, gazing at his peaked bicep, as if appealing to me to feast upon the pristine beauty of a muscle hunk having bested a once hopeful challenger. Is he dedicating this masterful demonstration to me, his lustful home viewer, or is he promising the same treatment to the twink bitchboys watching at home? Clearly, this is art teetering on a stark contrast between these two possible interpretations.
So fair warning: if you’re turned off by explicitly homophobic language (which is the only way I can describe the use of terms like “fairy” and “faggot” here), or misogynistic insults (“pussy,” “bitch”… which frankly I intellectually don’t care for, but somehow never seem to mind in fact) then Glove Fetish Beatdown is not your kink. There are some sweet pro wrestling moves, and an overwhelming squash can definitely work for many of us, however. Hell, if you’re just curious to see what Muscle Master Kevin’s physique looks like when applied to corporal punishment of a ridiculously outmatched opponent, this is a feast for your eyes. It doesn’t stroke the kink I harbor for the drama of erotic combat, because Hunter is almost instantly little more than a prop to demonstrate Kevin’s power and domination. I know for a fact that there’s plenty here for many neverland readers to enjoy, and some here that many neverland readers won’t care for. But I believe Muscle Master Kevin’s sincerity when he says that he strives to give his fans what they’re asking, begging, pleading for. So get your asses over to MDW and send Kevin your sincerest desire for what you want to see, and if it happens to be a bespectacled handsome face like his falling prey to dirty tricks and erotic domination at the hands of a brutish heel, let Kevin know that Bard sent you!
Welcome to neverland’s new address! I recommend that regular readers bookmark this page for future reference, since I will no longer be updating the old site at blogger. Happily, I’ve been able to transfer all the old posts as well as reader comments into this new format. For your convenience and to just clarify any issues of monetization and undue influence, there will continue to be no ads here at neverland other than the unsolicited publicity I offer through my discussions of homoerotic wrestling products that I enjoy. Check out the About page for reference to photo copyright owners who have generously given me permission to repost their images here. You can also find an updated Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month Hall of Fame, and I’ve made some major administrative decisions regarding my running favorite homoerotic wrestler titles – namely, I’m collapsing the two categories of favorites (pornboys and non-pornboys), and once again forcing them all to battle it out in one big pool of sweat and tears for my lust and adoration. The Favorites page gives a more detailed explanation of how I came to this decision and where I drew the lines, but for those with a casual interest, suffice it to say that the inaugural unified title holder as my favorite homoerotic wrestler running is long-time infatuation of mine, wrestler-turned-bodybuilder-turned-wrestler Lon Dumont.
I hope to get this new incarnation of neverland back to some of my roots, including intentionally blurring the lines between homoerotic wrestling fantasy and pop culture, celebrating beautiful bodies that do (or should) populate the homoerotic wrestling scene, and naming the names of the men, matches and maneuvers that dial my wrestling kink sensibilities up to 11.
In that vein, here are some fantasy match-ups I’ve chosen for which hot Hollywood hunk currently making news should climb into the wrestling ring, and which current homoerotic wrestling hardbody should be there to greet him.
First up on my plate is cleft chinned fashion model Henry Cavill, who’s come a long, long way to be all-American (albeit, space alien) superhero Superman in this Spring’s blockbuster. This photo is of a leaner Henry from Immortals, sporting a physique that speaks to me even louder than his hairy chested behemoth muscleman incarnation in Superman. Talk about a star on the rise, Henry seems to be making tongues wag and mouths drool uncontrollably lately. He’s starred in several pieces of homoerotic wrestling fiction I’ve penned, and I think the perfect homoerotic wrestling veteran to test the newly minted man of steel would be equally devastatingly handsome beauty, Z-Man. I picture the blinding beauty of both of these boys inspiring them to higher and higher heights of savagery and lust for domination. Lovely Henry would have a lot to learn, and I think two-thirds of this match would involve Z-Man demonstrating all of the cruel tools of the trade he’s suffered for so many years at the hands of his opponents. However, I think Henry would be a quick study, sucking the air out of Z-Man’s lungs with an unexpectedly aggressive crotch claw, scoring the decisive knockout victory, and then working over the slowly rousing Z-Man’s luscious pecs with his tongue.
Joel McHale not only graduated from an institution that I did, he also grabbed a whole lot of attention when he disrobed for the first time on his network television show Community, instantly earning him a spot in the crowded field of funny men hunks I lust after. While I don’t follow Community faithfully, it’s a sentimental favorite of mine for no other reason than Joel’s mouthwatering pecs. I think this giant funny man could have no better greeter when he enters a wrestling ring than ice-cold and entirely humorless Muscle Master Kevin, boss-in-chief and stunningly pectacular CEO of Muscle Domination Wrestling. No shit, the initial stare down would be between Master Muscle Kevin’s baby blues and Joel’s mouthwatering nipples (because you know Kevin wouldn’t deign to look up). The muscle master very well might bite off more than he can chew in ripped comedian Joel, who I think harbors the deep cynicism of a serious heel-rising. But I have to think even with the size disadvantage, Master Muscle Kevin would slowly beat the tallboy down to size, humiliate him, terrify him, and teach him crucial lessons Joel would need to learn to own the ring as the heel he harbors deep inside.
Discovering that Sendhil Ramamurthy was back on television and shirtless stoked some sizzling hot embers he first lit when I fell in lust with him on Heroes. He appeared in a couple of fictional wrestling matches I wrote, but the height of homoerotic wrestling fantasy would be to see him climb into the ring and discover beefy pornboy kombatant Marcus Ruhl staring down at him. There’s no way that the tidal wave plowing into him would leave sensational Sendhil anything other than flat on his back with knees in the air, but I think he’d make the pornboy work hard for it. One way or another, however, there’s a pony ride in Sendhil’s future appearances in my imagination (with Sendhil as the pony, of course).
Finally, Joe Manganiello is never far from my homoerotic wrestling fantasies. He’s a recurring character in my fiction, and even more frequently appears to me in my fondest dreams. There may have never been a Hollywood actor more perfectly suited to be a homoerotic wrestling god than mountainous muscleman Joe. In fact, I struggle to imagine who could manage to initiate the mighty beast sufficiently. Having admired the beastly transformation of Chace LaChance from tweezed go-go-boy to brutishly massive muscleman, however, I’m picturing Chace to be the one to give rookie Joe a boot to the face as the Hollywood stunner tries to stride up to the ring apron for the first time. Chace has taken some severe beatings, and I have to imagine Joe would match him muscle for muscle, and then some. But my fantasies could picture no other outcome than big, beautiful Joe flat on his back with Chace’s muscle butt planted across his face as the Hollywood heartthrob taps frantically his final submission before Chace strips him naked (like we haven’t seen that before) and rides his glorious ass (okay, that would be new) as picture perfect Joe hangs onto the ropes and moans.
So leave me a housewarming present here at neverland 2.0 by sharing in the comments below your Hollywood-turns-homoerotic-wrestling fantasy match-up. And welcome!