When it came time to settle on my 3rd and final choice, I was feeling a lot of pressure. Saying yes to any one thing would mean saying no to everything else in my collection. Will I want old school? New school? Heavy on the erotic? Heavy on the ring wrestling? In the end, I settled on the classic Hunkbash 2 to round out my desert island discs. As with all my choices, the fact that there are many favorite wrestlers and matches on the same disc played heavily into my decision to stow Hunkbash 2 in my carry-on. First and foremost, I don’t believe I’ve ever sat down to watch a Wade Cutler match that didn’t end with me coated in sweat and toweling off. But place muscle hunk Wade into the expert hands of heel extraordinaire and BG East Boss himself, Kid Leopard, and the climactic match of Hunkbash 2 qualifies for one of the hottest, most satisfying homoerotic wrestling matches I’ve ever seen. Wade is in prime physical condition, wearing iconic stars and stripes trunks (for a while, at least), and suffering in complete shock at being manhandled and sexually dominated by a smaller, less muscular opponent. Classic tale. Iconic wrestlers. Never-fail entertainment to satisfy in the coming weeks.
Tag: Wade Cutler
Bill of Goods
With that preamble in mind, let me just ask you: is Naked Kombat’s new rookie, Cliff Jensen, what you’d characterize as a “muscle god?” NK’s text teaser to get you to click through to the match characterizes this pairing as, “Huge-dicked muscle god takes on sexy stud.” Sebastian Keyes is a scrappy little wrestler who fulfills my fantasy of what it would be like to see Seth Green in homoerotic combat. I’m 100% certain that Sebastian is the “sexy stud,” and not the “huge-dicked muscle god.” Which means that Cliff Jensen must be the one NK is selling as the huge-dicked muscled god in this scenario.
At the risk of sounding catty, I don’t buy the line that Cliff Jensen is a muscle god. Huge-dicked, okay. But muscle god? Is this the physique of a muscle god?
I’m probably as culpable as anyone in over-ascribing godliness to certain homoerotic wrestling bodies. But when I wax hyperbolic about a physique, it tends to come from a place of nearly disbelieving awe. That body simply cannot be solely human. His face is too handsome. His proportions are too perfect. When it comes specifically to the characterization of “muscle god,” I tend to picture physique stars with slabs of beef hanging off of their skeletons like a meat locker. “Muscle god,” I think, requires competition bodybuilding quality muscle, thick, defined, a little freakish (though I reserve a whole different class of adoration for the “muscle freak“). I’m picturing the mountainously muscled Thunder’s Arena’s Conan, for example…
…or the inhumanly perfect aesthetics of classic BG East muscle man Wade Cutler…
…or even the simply gorgeous, powerful, thick, hard, veiny awesomeness of Kid Brock.
I buy “muscle god” for a lot of homoerotic wrestling physiques, frankly. There are a lot of fine works of art wrestling out there with entirely worship-worthy bodies with more than an echo of divinity built in. But Cliff Jensen’s charm is just not cut from that cloth, I’d argue.
He’s pretty. His long and hunky. He likes his ass spanked hard, god damn it. And for all of that (along with the stunning body art), I’m a fan of the rookie. But “muscle god?”
Checking it Twice
If ever someone deserved it, Troy Baker did. I happily own his debut match for BG East, in which he teamed up with his brother. Troy’s character took a little while to develop, but even in that first match, we can see the seeds of his destruction. He’s beautiful. He’s stunningly built. He’s a little slow in piecing together some wrestling moves, but he’s supremely confident that his sheer strength and bright, white smile will earn him victory. In match after match, his self-love of his own beautiful body becomes his undoing, and there’s just nothing “righter” than watching him think that he’s got it in the bag, only to find himself suffering and destroyed at the hands of an “inferior” opponent.
Inside the ring, that’s the formula that demands brutal, humiliating destruction of the classic golden boy. Inside the ring, justice simply requires that a less stunningly developed, less beautiful, perhaps less “deserving” of victory heel beat the living shit out of Troy again, and again, and again. Outside the ring, good looks, blond hair, a hard, tight body, and a healthy dose of entitlement and confidence will generally be very well rewarded. Inside the ring, they require crushing defeat and prolonged humiliation.
I think the morality tales of straight-up pro probably work the same way, but I think homoerotically directed wrestling has an even more salient subtext. Someone like muscle-beautiful Zack Johnathan/Vazquez getting completely taken to school by “skinny” kid Brody Hancock, for example, lets me work out all sorts of long standing “issues” I have as a gay man. Outside the ring, the most beautiful, straight-laced, used-to-getting-their-way straight boys tend to prosper and receive more than a heaping helping of social approval. But inside the ring, at least for this gayboy, there’s something deeply satisfying about seeing the classic jock pummeled. It speaks to me powerfully to see the classic cards of strength, youth, and power stacked against an overmatched opponent, who with sheer audacity and ferocity, does whatever it takes to pull the rug out from under the muscled juggernaut. The morality tale, for me at least, has more than a hint of the skinny (or fat), disregarded and underestimated sissy who spits in the face of the bullying jock and exacts humiliating revenge for getting thrown into the lockers.
Can You Lend a Hand?
So these last two posts make me feel a little like I’m playing Dr. Ruth. It’s not my intention to sound like the sexpert or to cast another marginalizing net around what should be considered “normal.” I’m all for your sexual satisfaction, at least as far as it comes from an act of mutual, consenting pleasures. I just think it’s worth saying that what defines the crowd that tends to read this blog shouldn’t be something that removes us from pleasures shared. We don’t all have to live up to the physical standards or peak performances of our homoerotic wrestling heroes, by any means. But we can take a cue from them that there’s a whole world of erotic pleasures and beautiful men to share them with.