BG East

Posts Tagged With ‘BG East’

Austin Cooper vs Vic Madone

“You’re a Fighter, Huh?”

Vic Madone is a man on a mission. Ever since his sweat-soaked, testosterone-fueled debut against the scrappy Ray Naylor, Vic’s been itching for another fight. While he certainly proved his strength and skill were up to the challenge against Naylor (Mat Hunks 9), it was far from an easy match. Vic came to BG East confident his size and muscle would send Ray packing, but wound up fighting tooth and nail just to hold his own against an opponent 20 pounds lighter than himself. Whether the exhausting battle left Vic with a bruised ego or the taste of a truly exhilarating match just made him hungry for more is anyone’s guess, but ever since he’s been feeling a burning desire for a good fight.

Scraps and spars with friends and fellow fighters couldn’t match up to his experience at BG East, so Vic came back with one simple request, for us to throw the best we had at him. A tall order for a man just going into his second match, especially considering some of the resident talent here at BG East, but we aim to please and knew just who could give Vic the match he’d been looking for.

Austin Cooper may have started out as the BG East golden boy, but his fans know he’s been exploring his dark side in recent matches. After he left his last opponent, former varsity quarterback Richie Douglas, in a sweaty heap of bruised muscle and broken resolve, he remarked it takes tougher wrestlers to last against him. Well, Vic may be just what Austin ordered. The golden boy can trounce some of the best wrestlers even without resorting to his dark side, but no one’s untouchable, and Vic has been training relentlessly to prepare for his second chance to make a name for himself on the BG mats.

When Vic arrives at the arena, his muscled body even bears the marks of a seasoned warrior. When we asked about the black eye he was sporting, his only response was, “You should see the other guy.” Clichéd perhaps, but as Vic shadow boxes to burn off energy until Austin arrives, even practicing his ground game on a convenient punching bag, you can’t help wondering what happened to the “other guy” after leaving a mark on this proud fighter’s face. Austin arrives and he too can’t help picking up on the intensity in the air as sweat begins to shine on Vic’s heated body. Perhaps the golden boy is merely impressed by his latest opponent’s enthusiasm, but as the match gets underway, you’d swear you caught a glimpse of uncertainty in this budding heel’s eyes…

Austin has a cautious air, making sure Vic understands that there are rules here, this is no street brawl. The fight goes hard – by the rules, but rules can always help a budding heel. After multiple lockups, it’s Vic who manages the first takedown with Austin going down hard onto his back. Vic’s success doesn’t last long though, and Cooper manages to slip behind him and ride the struggling fighter to the mats for what feels like minutes. The frustration on Madone’s face grows and the sweat on his muscles shines as he strains to force his way out of each hold, while Austin keeps the pressure on with his tried and true wrestling skills.

Austin Cooper vs Vic Madone

Battle Hardened Bodies

Skill loses out to tenacity when Vic finally breaks loose and turns the tables, even pinning Austin’s shoulders to the mat, albeit briefly. But Vic wants more than an easy win, and shoves himself away from Cooper. Back on his feet, he challenges the hunk bring him down again. Both wrestlers are already breathing heavy as they close in for another lockup, the action fast and intense while they fight for position. Austin traps Madone in a dangerous bodyscissors, but the tattooed warrior is even faster to turn things around again, nearly flipping Cooper onto his face as Vic climbs on top. Austin knows now he has to dig deeper to stay ahead of this man, and struggles to his feet, legs on fire as he lifts Madone clear off the mat, the hunk now dangling from Cooper’s shoulders.

Even from this position Vic fights hard but as the powerful hunk regains dominance again and again, Austin’s desire to hurt, and Vic’s desire to win, ratchet up the tension. By the time Austin hoists the ferocious fighter up with his bulging biceps encircling Vic’s ribcage, and jerks him high in a bone-snapping reverse bear hug, helpless Madone is kicking and moaning, growling and threatening. But going nowhere. Even as both men’s rippling muscles flex and strain, it’s Austin who decides he wants more out of this match from his impressive victim. Tossing Vic into a wall, the golden boy begins to show his dark side as he promises to make those ribs match Madone’s eye.

Bone-breaking bearhugs and bodyscissors from the bad boy leave Vic screaming in agony for so long you’d think he’d have no ribs left to break. Vic uses tricks of his own and manages to slap a few joint locks on the heel, trying to slow Austin’s building head of steam. Hurting and winded, he finds even giving Austin a taste of his own intense bodyscissors can’t slow down Coop’s relentless assault, and Vic is forced to submit twice, first to spare his ribs and then again to escape a Boston crab with his spine intact!

A test of strength, MMA style punches to Austin’s rock-hard abdominals, backbreakers, more gut work, and crotch destroying leg splits are all on display as these fighters go for broke, neither one backing down. Vic came for the fight of his life, and he gets it. It’s not until one man is finally trapped in a breathtaking chokehold that a winner is decided, standing tall over the prostrate form of a worthy challenger, both bodies shining with sweat from one of their toughest battles to date.

Kieran Dunne vs Jaguar

“Who’s Sexy Now, Honey?”

Kieran Dunne’s got a new hairdo, and he can’t keep his eyes off it. Stylishly tinted strawberry blond, it tops off his cannonball muscularity, currently squeezed into improbably teensy metallic gold trunks. Gone is the baby-faced 150-pound youngster whose red, white, and blue singlet won our hearts in Mathunks 1. Now he looks like a young pro from mid-1970s Championship Wrestling in Florida. Classic.

Even for those of us who have followed Kieran’s physical transformations over the years, the new bad-ass KD comes as a shock: vain, smirking, formidable, and, from the look of things, ready to pound man-flesh into pulp. And if the name “Kieran Dunne” still makes you think “cute but doomed jobber,” you need to have a talk with the last man to face him in the BG East ring, six-foot-one Aron Mobley … that is, if you can find him, since for some reason Aron hasn’t shown his face around here since that “full-tilt” fight fans still are talking about.

Kieran deliberately trips Jaguar as the wrestler enters the ring only because he came between Kieran’s $100 haircut and its reflection in the mirror. Jaguar warns the primping pretty boy that he can play as dirty as the next guy. Jag too is packed in beef, with nothing about him to bring the word “pushover” to mind. The close prospect of this epic clash has some of us already wetting our pants.

A tense muscle pose down erupts into all-out war after Kieran springs a cowardly sneak attack. Jaguar catapults Kieran into the turnbuckle and heaves him up for a spectacular body slam. Locked in a full nelson, Kieran finds himself forced to view his humiliating subjugation in the mirror. After a long, hard (and eye-popping) struggle, Kieran breaks a hold, only to find himself almost immediately snared in it again. Then, as Kieran writhes on his back, Jaguar taunts him, literally stepping all over the blond bombshell. Trampling him…

Kieran Dunne vs Jaguar

“Fucked My Hair Up, Motherfucker!”

Over the years, the Jag has come to expect that BG East will toss him pretty chunks of beefcake to toy with. In the past he has put the Latin heartthrobs Rio Garza and Gil Barrios through their paces, and he sees no reason to believe this run-in with golden boy Kieran Dunne will be any different. Jaguar favors long, tight, agonizing clinches, and he keeps Kieran squirming and moaning in a headscissors for a solid minute and a half, pumping the blond’s head while unsportingly clinging to a ring rope for support. So confident is Jaguar in his mastery of Dunne that nobody, least of all Jag, expects Kieran to turn the tables on him. But Kieran does, suddenly and without mercy, bending the big cat in two with a Boston crab hold, forcing an amazingly quick submission out of the man who has so confidently dominated the match to this point.

The tipping point for Kieran is not so much Jaguar’s gratuitous abuse of his muscular body as the mussing up of his trendy haircut. Now it’s Jaguar who finds himself locked in an excruciating full nelson by a wrestler whose upper arms are as powerful as most men’s thighs. But if he had a last name, Jaguar’s middle name would be Perseverance, and he regains control of the match, at least temporarily. When he at last thrusts free of the hold, Jag pulls Dunne up into a bearhug that, through gradual escalation of pressure, forces the blond to flag and submit, evening the score 1-to-1.

The final struggle serves up a grueling stream of punishments: a rib-cracking reverse bearhug, rear-naked chokes, an out-of-nowhere low blow, a crucifying stretch, the infamous (and hugely popular) torture rack, and a sensational match-ending knockout. Two powerful and sweaty men, two career-defining performances, and a grudge that only complete and utter annihilation can settle, you don’t see this sort of thing everywhere, but you do see it here at BG East!

Marc Merino vs Doug Rand

Babyface No More

Doug Rand stands on the ring apron outside the ropes and calls handsome Marc Merino to him. “You ready for your beatin’?” he asks, coldly looking over Marc’s luscious body. Then, without hesitation or provocation he slams his fist into Marc’s midsection, apparently just because he wanted to.

“I’m going to teach you a lesson,” he announces, choking the big beautiful babyface against the top rope. There’s an evil glint in Doug’s eye as he crawls through the ropes to finish what he’s started. Dirty Doug got his fill of playing babyface in his debut match, teamed with Donnie Drake against heels Lon Dumont and Chace LaChance. It was an eye-opening experience for the new hire. Like many an ambitious young wrestler before him, he realized then and there that bad-ass-ness is the fast and easy way to make a reputation at BG East. He resolved never again to play the welcome mat for other up-and-coming wrestlers to wipe their boots on.

Marc on the other hand, has found his built and beefy physique being just such a welcome mat, to opponents as well as his many fans. His imposing, Italian prettyboy good looks have not helped him in the past against smaller opponents, who often humiliated him in the worst ways, but he is determined this time he’ll take all the punishment the muscled fireplug Doug can dish out, and use his size advantage to end up on top.

Doug is a flurry of action now that he’s in the ring, moving quickly to pick Marc up off the mat and snagging the curly-haired babyface in a side headlock, walking his catch around the ring “like a fuckin’ dog.” He pauses at the mirror so Marc can witness his humiliation up close. “C’mon,” he taunts, “be my little bitch!” Every muscle in Doug’s body strains to up the pressure against Marc’s skull. He flashes his taut biceps at the camera and growls through his teeth, “YEAH, motherfucker!”

But the distraction of the mirror gives Marc an opening to reverse. He bounces Doug off the opposite ropes and lifts him, clutching his ribs in a big bear hug. Thanks to his superior muscle and stature, Marc gives Doug a crash course in the HURTS. Doug’s pale, wiry body writhes in Marc’s grip. Doug tries to punch his way free. No dice. He tries to shove Marc’s face back and away to loosen the hold. Zip, nothing, nada. Marc repositions to tighten the clamp further, laughing in triumph. His back to the corner, Doug collapses, and Marc leaves him hanging to go pose some more in front of the mirror. It’s a classic jobber mistake for Marc. When he returns to apply a reverse hug, Doug mule-kicks him in the nuts. Marc wobbles on his feet, groaning, then falls like a stunbolted bull. But it’s just the beginning…

Marc Merino vs Doug Rand

Devilish Doug Determines to Show No Mercy

While Marc holds his aching nuts, Doug can contemplate what set him off in the first place about this Jerseyboy wannabe. Merino is the more experienced wrestler, but only on paper. He’s bigger by 40 pounds. Plus the guy is a knockout, whose sky blue trunks can barely contain all his sensational lusciousness. In Doug’s eyes, Marc is nothing but a pampered prettyboy whom the fans adore even though he has yet to notch up even one victory. If Doug is going to make his mark here at BG East, popular Merino is as good a steppingstone as any to prove Doug’s mettle as a spit-in-your-eye, show-no-mercy villain, beating guys up just for the heck of it.

While Marc thrashes on the mat, clutching his throbbing family jewels, Doug kicks his shoulder, his hamstrings, and his knees. Marc’s hoarse wailing only whets Doug’s appetite for more violence.

Doug wins the first fall by brutal submission with an STF (step-over toehold face-lock) that nearly snaps Marc’s kneecaps. So painful is the hold that Doug is hesitant to release it and the power that he feels, even after Marc taps out. He pretends not to hear Marc pleading repeatedly, “I quit!” When at last he does let go, Doug immediately resumes the “beatin'” with a punishing series of chops and stretches, satisfying his sadistic need to bruise and mangle.

Doug takes a devilish delight in feeling the muscle boy’s body quiver in agony against his own body, a disturbingly sick taste for pain that … well … pretty much pegs him as upper management material here at BG East. We like what Doug has to show for himself in this ring war and think you will, too. And what he shows us of Marc Merino, at least as beautiful in mortal peril as he is in a muscle pose, is scorched on our memory forever. All in all, this boner-friendly beatdown is sure to win Doug Rand and Marc both a new, devoted following among BGE fans!

Charlie Panther vs Jaxx O’Doul

Signed on the Dotted Line: Explosive Action Does the Talking

Before the opening bell, Charlie and Jaxx don’t speak a word. They stretch their limbs and put on their best fight faces with grim determination.

When the bell sounds, Jaxx makes a pass at the mirror, nodding appreciatively at the reflection of his classically handsome profile, and circles in on his opponent. Charlie slaps his chest and lunges for Jaxx’s legs. Jaxx veers clear and sneaks in behind Charlie, grabbing him around the ribs and slamming him facedown. He hooks Panther’s right hand up to his shoulder blades. Charlie escapes and reverses, pulling Jaxx into a front facelock, which he holds for just a second; then Jaxx resumes command.

You see what’s going on here, right? These two sturdy guys, evenly matched, each topping six feet and 200 pounds, have been gunning for each other for months. Who said what to whom, we may never know, but something happened to make Jaxx and Charlie put each other at the top of their Ringwars wish lists. BG East wasted no time in making this contest happen. We recognize good heat when we see it.

Jaxx O’Doul and Charlie Panther take turns snapping each other into arm locks. Sharp, fast, tendon-wrenching movements imply a determination to maim the other guy and put him out of commission. BG East fans hold Charlie and Jaxx alike in high regard as journeymen wrestlers, committed to the science of pain and consistent and professional as workers in the ring. Their previous opponents have learned to respect them for their skills and fighting spirit and to be wary of their sadistic tendencies, which are never too far from the surface. Jaxx has more matches under his belt, about twice as many as Charlie. However, neither feels he has advanced in the ranks as quickly as he deserves, and for some reason each has fixed in his mind the idea that the other guy has played a role in holding him back. Skipping the usual niceties and polite hesitations that mark the beginnings of most matches, Charlie and Jaxx regard each other as mortal enemies from the outset. From the first second, these two are where most competitors are only after the second fall.

Charlie Panther vs Jaxx O’Doul

Conflict Resolution, Manly Style

Charlie’s tight headscissors has Jaxx’s eyes rolling. Charlie feels his opponent’s muscles strain and swell and instinctively lifts his hands to shield himself. Jaxx thrusts his body up and bursts free of the hold. However, the immense effort leaves him winded and fatigued, still a sitting duck for the watchful Panther, who drives him back down with a forearm smash to the shoulder and a barefoot kick to the gut. Charlie pounds the mat with the palms of his hands, a warlike gesture to draw Jaxx back to the brawl. He stomps down on Jaxx’s torso and goes for what looks like a quick and easy pin, but Jaxx just WON’T… STAY… DOWN!

Always an opportunist who makes his own opportunities, Charlie wears Jaxx down and then crouches behind him and slaps him into a sleeper hold. Jaxx’s massive body writhes, heating up like a radiator as he gasps for air. Then, running on instincts, he rolls to the edge of the ring, pulling Charlie with him, where he clasps the bottom rope. Respectfully, Charlie releases the hold, but by now, after nearly finishing his man twice in close succession, he is clearly frustrated. And who wouldn’t be?

As Jaxx struggles to rise, Charlie kicks him back down to the mat. He tries a second kick, but Jaxx grabs him by the foot and flips him to his back in a jaw-dropping reversal that segues into a series of punishing assaults and counter-assaults, ultimately a volley of closed-fist punches and a clean, sure knockout.

This is INTENSE! Even after one man wins a decisive two out of three falls, the loser demands another shot, coaxing the victor back to the ring for three out of five. It’s a big risk for both wrestlers, but these guys have it in for each other and enough is never enough. The final five minutes of this battle rank high among BG East’s all-time great white-knuckle finishes, capped with a boner-generating choke-out that will have you immediately hitting REPLAY.

Jobe Zander vs Peter Owens: Everybody Knows The Centerpiece

Jobe is so proud of his ‘Centerpiece’ — the large bulge packing his always skimpy trunks– that he completely identifies with the moniker. But you’d be excused for wondering why he even has to call attention to it, since it is so hard to miss in the first place! One reason might be that he uses it as both a threat, and a target for his opponents! Will they take the bait? Is he enjoying himself?

Pro wrestler Peter Owens wanted to have a shot. We last saw Peter suffering under dastardly Dick Rick (whose relation to Kid Leopard is unclear, as you’ll see on Leopard’s Lair 5) on BG’s Bad Boys 2. Peter will try to overcome his string of losses with this arrogant heel’s body – and its ‘Centerpiece’ – as a target! He’s been training hard for this match, but he may himself become a target arriving full of bravado in his own revealingly packed blue trunks.

No one has experienced Peter’s new strength yet. Jobe summarily dismisses the challenge posed by the smooth and slender pro, but Peter tries to set the stud straight with an opening side headlock that appears to decrease Jobe’s hat size by half an inch. What does not appear to be diminishing is The Centerpiece, tenting the front of Jobe’s banana-yellow trunks and pointing towards his challenger like a cop’s nightstick. Despite Peter’s daring sally, Jobe responds with a dastardly kick to Peter’s balls and a stiff forearm to the back of the neck! Owens grovels at Zander’s feet, exactly where this particular heel likes to keep his opponents.

“Stay down!” Jobe barks, using the sole of his boot to press his challenger facedown to the mat. Then he straddles Peter’s back and starts drubbing the side of his head with his fist. Not convinced that Peter is moaning enough, Jobe delivers a vicious kick to the babyface’s ribs.

No squeaky clean soft-pedaling of blows here! This is how the game is played at BG East, especially by bad-ass heels like Jobe Zander. And he’s just getting started, of course. He rolls Peter over on his back and stomps his boot heel on the sternum. Nearly breathless, Peter clutches Jobe’s legs and pulls himself to his knees, putting the bully’s midsection in the crosshairs for a bull’s-eye punch that staggers the man. A pissed-off Zander then smashes Owens back down to the mat and again commands him to stay. When Peter insubordinately insists on defending himself, Jobe sees red and thrusts him to the turnbuckle for a series of strong style jabs our microphone picks up with heart-stopping clarity. In an amazing show of fortitude and resilience, Peter grabs the front of Jobe’s trunks, using his free arm to blast away at the heel’s belly and reverse positions, serving up forearm smashes to Jobe’s nose and chin. But can Owens’s pluck stop the onslaught of The Centerpiece?

Jobe Zander vs Peter Owens: Blindsided!

In a failed attempt to Irish whip his opponent across the ring, Peter loses control and winds up on his ass, his back to the corner, helplessly watching as Jobe’s black boot speedily advances to smash him to the post. Zander has a field day choking Owens against the top rope, kicking him in the balls, and repeatedly pushing him facedown on the mat, prostrate and humiliated. With his boot pressed to the back of his challenger’s neck and his arms raised ostentatiously to the ceiling, Jobe declares with characteristic bombast, “I feel a win coming on!” Then he doesn’t simply pull the boot away but rather scrapes it against the opponent’s flesh in utter contempt.

That indignity spurs Peter to retaliate with a full-on assault on The Centerpiece itself, Jobe’s pride and joy … and most vulnerable body part! Perhaps this is what Jobe hoped for!??

A couple of snapmares and a near-lethal dropkick confirm Owens’s agile athleticism now that Jobe is weakened in the worst way. Spurred by all the humiliation he’s suffered, Peter digs out all he’s got and it’s not long before he is displaying his potential for wiping the mat with the arrogant heel’s ass! Backed into a corner, Jobe pleads for mercy, but Peter shows him none. From a huge head drop into the Centerpiece itself from high in the air, to leg drops to the face and a DDT variation, Peter shows what his body can do! A boston crab shows off that sweaty Centerpiece while Jobe squeals like never before.

But don’t be quick to count Jobe out. Notwithstanding his sometimes comic self-absorption, Jobe is a ruthless, degenerate, and dangerous villain who will stop at nothing to obliterate his opponent. Peter has loads of heart and an arsenal of fleet and forceful moves, and he looks plenty motivated to put Jobe down like the rabid dog he is. The fight goes back and forth, spiraling out of the ring, as Peter and Jobe go at it, fist and boot … and size 12 cock.

BG East tends to favor its heels, the nastier and meaner the better, yet it also champions those underdogs who dare to dig deep and steel themselves to out-nasty the bad guys. This match will keep you guessing to the last minute, and we predict you’ll be rubbing your eyes in disbelief at the finish, which is anything but squeaky clean.

Aryx Quinn vs Dick Rick: Make or Break

Many are the devious ways The Boss employs to keep his boys in line. Even a star protege like Aryx Quinn dare not get too big for his yellow and black britches or he may live to regret getting on Kid Leopard’s bad side. It’s a well-known fact that The Boss keeps highly-trained wrestlers on call specifically for that purpose. These veteran wrestlers are tasked with curbing the wayward through a vast arsenal of crippling holds (known in old-school pro wrestling as “hooks”) that serve as warnings or, more likely, career-enders for anyone who steps out of line. Perhaps the most feared of these enforcers is Dick Rick, known for his cast-iron muscle, implacable temper, and command of the deadly arts.

Dick Rick and The Boss speak the same language. Both came out of and have a deep respect for old school pro wrestling. Leopard was a protege of the laconic and iconic Walter “Killer” Kowalski. Dick comes from deep in the Heartland of Ohio. Both worked their way up: Dick to a couple of different titles and a TV gig; Leopard to ring announcer, referee, co-promoter and a couple of stints as a Yank heel in the UK. Both followed the time-honored strictures and traditions of “the business”, one of the most revered of which is fealty to the promoter. That meant loyalty, or, in other words, you dance with the one what brung ya. Dick gets it. It’s the unspoken commonality of workers in the business.

Aryx came to BG from the military and from the streets before that. His first exposure to pro wrestling was its underground, specifically BG East where The Boss took an instant interest in training him personally, even creating new submission holds especially for this hot and cocky new protege. So Aryx Quinn came in at the top of this rarefied underworld. Rules, regulations, traditions, loyalty mean nothing to him. And therein lies the rub: friction between The Boss and his wayward, intemperate protege was inevitable.

On the pretext of wanting to audition for the spot of Aryx’s tag-team partner, the spot formerly held by Nick Archer, Dick lulls Aryx into a false sense of security, and then out of nowhere WHAM! a double forearm smack to the back drives Aryx to the mat. A trio of boot stomps to the ribcage follow, to make sure Dick has Aryx’s full and undivided attention. It’s rare to see Aryx caught by surprise like this, much less thrust into such a vulnerable position, and it’s our good fortune that the cocky blond suffers dazzlingly.

Anguish contorts his classically pretty face as his smooth, sinewy body writhes under Dick Rick’s merciless abuse. Dick gets right to business, strangling, pummeling, clawing, and slamming the usually cocky upstart in and out of the ring. “I’m your maker,” Dick tells him with chilling matter-of-fact-ness, “and today I’m your breaker.”

Aryx Quinn vs Dick Rick: A Downfall, But Whose?

It’s impossible to say whether Dick Rick enjoys hurting wrestlers for the money or for kicks, or if he’s merely reverentially following orders from on high. But whatever the motivation, the man is undeniably a pro in the infliction of pain. Bored with racking Aryx’s rippled abs with a paralyzing iron claw, he rises to his feet and corners Aryx, folding him crosswise with torpedo-like shoulder drives and head butts to the navel.

Hardly content, he pulls the pretty boy up by his head and chin to bend him backward against his thigh, stressing the spine and dilating every major muscle in the torso. A few well-placed chops to the solar plexus raise Aryx’s eight-pack to the surface, which Dick spreads out towards the camera. When Aryx’s eyes glaze over, Dick slaps him a time or two on the mouth to make sure he’s conscious and sentient of each new spasm and indignity. Then he points him to the mirror, forcing the victim to witness his own execution. This is a level of domination, punishment and arrogance with which Aryx is ordinarily very familiar – only this time he’s witnessing it from the other side!

After battering his opponent in and out of the ring, against the turnbuckle, on the ropes, and the blunt edge of the ring apron, Dick perhaps goes too far when he invites, even dares Aryx to fight back. “Hit me,” he says, taunting the cornered wrestler. Seething with anger, Aryx doesn’t have to be asked twice. He hurls himself at Dick firing off a roundhouse to his tormentor’s jaw, driving the big bad bully face-first to the mat.

But is this only a feeble spot of hope in the midst of an irreversible and catastrophic downfall? Or can Aryx really turn the tables this late in the game? The action gets only wilder and woolier up to the heart-stopping choke-out, closing one of the most grueling spectacles in BG East history. And just when you think you’ve seen it all, the scene changes, and we witness the baffling aftermath to this balls-to-the-wall fight as The Boss himself Kid Leopard makes a surprise appearance for a heart-to-heart with his protege – strongly suggesting that we have not yet seen all the shit that’s going to come down – not by a long shot. Location change, Scene Two: Leopard’s private bath and spa….

Skip Vance vs Trey Dixon: Gear Fetish Fantasy Come True

There’s nothing quite like a good ol’ Southern boy with a hardcore wrestling gear fetish. So just imagine the heat generated by two sexy Southern boys who get turned on hard by full throttle wrestling in, and then out of the snuggest, sexiest wrestling gear they can find! Trey Dixon and Skip Vance stumbled across their mutual infatuation with all things wrestling gear-related by accident a while ago. But it took a few months of online planning and virtual wrestling to arrange a private, face-to-face rendezvous in Florida. Each hot hunk brought his own bag of tricks to make this fantasy match a reality. The anticipation left them both nearly frothing at the mouth by the time they got their hands all over each other.

Trey greets Skip at the door wearing metallic gold tights and a luchador mask. The tanned, crystal cut muscle stud is dizzyingly sexy as he anxiously asks Skip if he wore the purple tights he requested. Skip strips to Trey’s special order gear, and the two eager beavers breathlessly feel one another up and down. Cut from the same cloth, stoked hard by the same wrestling fantasies, they stroll excitedly to live the fantasy in the ring.

Trey has made quite a name for himself in his short tenure with BG East over the past year, starring in some of the sexiest, full contact, fully aroused wrestling combat on tape. He is a beast on the mat, with an intuitive knack for stoking erotic tension and completely distracting an opponent with those paralyzing lips. Skip is far from a doe-eyed rookie, though. The lightweight scrapper has taken some of the most epic beatings on tape and managed to wring grudging respect out of every opponent he’s faced. No stranger to the risks and rewards of erotic wrestling, he’s not about to be too easily suckered by Trey’s gorgeous body and tasty lips.

Trey is nearly beside himself with delight to finally get to play out his gear fetish with a pro. Climbing up to the ring apron, he can’t stop himself from exploring every inch of Skip’s body, groaning with pleasure at the feel of that spandex-clad ass. A headbutt to the gut, however, permits Skip to dump the golden stud unceremoniously in the ring and get down to the real business at hand, wrestling domination!

Skip Vance vs Trey Dixon: The Gear Gamut – tights, singlets, briefs, jocks, and nothing!

The wrestling is astonishingly brutal and evenly contested as Trey Dixon and Skip Vance dive into their shared gear fetish, starting in masks and tights in the ring. Southern drawls dripping with erotic tension slap down taunting trash talk as momentum is traded back and forth. “Ooo, that mask really looks good on you, boy,” Trey coos, staring down at Skip’s wincing face trapped snuggly in face-to-crotch headscissors. “Oh, yeah, I think purple is your color!”

The erotic fantasy persistently distracts both sexy Southern boys, and it’s Trey’s infatuation with stroking Skip’s spandex-clad ass that leaves him open for Skip’s reversal. He mounts the golden hunk and pounds the shit out of Trey’s ripped abs, momentarily knocking the fight out of him. Having subdued his opponent, Skip can’t stop himself from exploring every inch of Trey’s hot bod and focusing particularly lustful attention on Trey’s beautiful bulging package. “Come on, give me all you got!” he murmurs breathlessly.

Soon, though, Trey systematically owns his hot little opponent in the ring. Once the bashing and forced stripping is done, it’s winner’s choice, as Trey digs into his personal bag of fantasy gear, picking out bulge-hugging singlets for each of them to wear as they take this gear war fantasy to the mats.

Skip cannot tear his eyes away from the huge, golden package bouncing eagerly at the front of Trey’s yellow singlet. “I don’t need to imagine what your package looks like,” he marvels a the skin-tight, transparent fabric suction packed around his opponent’s crotch. “I can see it!” Trey gives his tempting package a hearty tug, taunting Skip with it. “Oh, I’ll show it to you!”

Between the two of them, these two fashionistas have countless gear fetish fantasies that they’re dying to dig out of their bags. When Skip makes the golden warrior submit in a full nelson and grapevine combo, he rips the mask off his opponent and claims the next winner’s choice: designer briefs. In, then out, then in and out again of one incredibly flattering gear after another, each one smaller than the last, both good ol’ boys ratchet up their intensity meaner, hotter, and hornier. Briefly in jock straps, and then one final full naked free for all tests their self-control as limbs and cocks and lips grapple furiously. There’s most definitely one decisive, final fall submission that determines which erotic warrior is in charge as they exit the mat room arm in arm, but looking at the erections and the lust in their eyes, this gear fetish fantasy-come-true makes absolutely everyone a winner!

Morgan Cruise vs MJ Vergara: Pro Geared Power vs Man in Tights

Ripped hunk MJ Vergara turns heads in absolutely anything he wears, but even MJ can’t take his eyes off of just how sexy these baby blue tights look stretched taut across his own thick thighs and perfect ass. He cannot keep his hands off of himself, stroking his encased muscles and admiring every angle of his incredibly hot body poured so tantalizingly into the tight spandex (particularly from behind). This incredibly toned acrobat has proven repeatedly that every mouthwatering muscle is tuned with expert precision to maximize balance, flexibility, and power. He’s one of our smallest competitors, but woe be the opponent who underestimates the damage this streetwise, stunningly conditioned athlete can do.

Morgan “the Mastodon” Cruise, however, has made a career out of contemptuously downplaying, then degrading the strengths of every opponent he’s ever met. Aside from getting his hot, hairy ass handed to him by pro heel Lon Dumont when he first arrived, Morgan has been on a rampage through the ranks of BG East, ripping apart one wrestler after another. Built like an 80’s pro wrestling heel, with the disposition of a maniacal tyrant and the unstoppable power of a mammoth mastodon, Morgan has shocked and awed much bigger and more experienced opponents. So it should come as no surprise that the king of contempt is profoundly underwhelmed when he finds 5’3″, 135 pound MJ in the ring in abject lust with his own mirror image.

“You know, I’ve come to expect very little of the talent here,” Morgan pronounces as he climbs into the ring. “I’m surprised, though. You look worse than my most pathetic opponent!” It’s those tights that irk the Mastodon most. A lifelong lover of pro wrestling, Morgan takes pride in his pro style trunks, matching boots and color coordinated vest. There’s a gravitas about classic gear that Morgan insists must be respected, and skin tight, baby blue spandex tights do not match the Mastodon’s high standards for gear that honors the ring.

Morgan slides his massive shoulders out of his warm-up vest and hands it to MJ to hang up. “Make yourself useful, and take this elsewhere,” he regally commands. Astonished by the balls on his opponent, the tattooed stud flings the vest out of the ring with his own contempt.

In a flash, Morgan attacks him from behind. Hoisting the lightweight up for a brutal suplex, the Mastodon abruptly finds the maneuver stymied by the phenomenal balance and body awareness of his acrobatic opponent. Shifting his weight just so, MJ throws his burly opponent off balance and suddenly it’s Morgan unceremoniously slammed to is back in the middle of the ring. Capoeira moves keep the Mastodon off balance, unable to keep track of where the next stunning kick is coming from. With astonishing grace and efficiency, MJ splashes down his rock hard physique squarely across Morgan’s sternum, repeatedly pumping the air out of the muscle man’s lungs. Morgan thought that this match would be a complete rout, but flat on his back with a 135 pound muscle stud squeezing the Mastodon’s skull viciously between those gorgeous thighs in their somehow alluring blue tights, and Morgan is thinking again!

Morgan Cruise vs MJ Vergara: Stripping Bare the Power, One Proud Piece at a Time

MJ Vergara and Morgan Cruise strike such stunning contrasts. MJ’s tastefully tattooed, luscious mocha skin is silky smooth and aesthetically proportioned, where Morgan is pale, hairy, and built like a line backer. Where MJ’s movements are hypnotically fluid, Morgan is more like a battering ram. Geared up to emphasize their contrasts, the sexy beach and gym fighter meets old school pro wrestling power, and something’s got to break.

Determined to be the breaker rather than the broken, Morgan catches MJ in one too many highflying, high risk maneuvers and slams him face first into the mat. “That’s some nice offense,” Morgan snarls false praise. “For a dancer. Really beautiful,” he spits with contempt. Scooped up like a feather in the Mastodon’s arms, MJ can do nothing to defend himself from getting his lower back slammed brutally to the mat. “I’m the man who’s going to sit you down and show you how much of a boy you are!” he promises the writhing, compact beauty at his feet, as he watches his geared up opponent squirm in pain.

With Morgan, it’s always about respect. And those baby blue tights scream disrespect to the finely tuned ears of the Mastodon. Suddenly, the sexy stakes skyrocket as he stares down at the gorgeous lightweight muscle stud struggling to peel himself up off the mat. “I’m going to take each and every article of gear, all of your pride, off!”

This battle for gear and respect is one of the most brutal 48 minutes you’ll ever see. Getting stripped is an indignity neither of these dangerous competitors is willing to concede easily, especially given the plethora of gear each seems to enjoy layering himself in.

Outweighed and outmuscled at every turn, MJ is nonetheless the fiercest, most stubborn muscle hunk ounce for ounce. Bashed in the corner, trampled underfoot, trussed up in the ropes and crushed from every angle, MJ sucks down more punishment than men twice his size could hope to endure. The last thing he is interested in giving Morgan is any respect at all, much less the tights off of his own mouthwatering body.

But tights and yes even those pro trunks are ripped off both battlers’ beautiful bodies as the war to hold onto their dignity rages to a fever pitch. Both wrestlers lose their boots and about a gallon of sweat. Gear is used as a weapon, as a means of humiliation, and as a way to show the seductive power of these two hot bodies in nearly every version of raw male erotic wear: tights, boots, trunks, underwear, thongs, jockstraps, socks… But just one proud hunk manages to walk out of the ring with his gear in tow, his dignity intact, and bragging rights firmly in hand, proving definitively who reigns supreme in the BG East ring: trunks or tights!

Guido Genatto vs Kirk Donahue: “You’re here to get fucked!”

“Back in Daddy’s web,” massive musclebear Guido Genatto struts, waiting for his next victim to arrive. “Just another fucking day, another fucking jobber. Who’s it going to be today? Who wants to come get fucked up!?” Guido is the perfect specimen for fans of beardaddy beatdowns.

Built like a hot, hairy Mac truck, his deep base voice strums the chords that bring muscle bear fanatics to their knees. His beautifully bulging pink trunks are laced with spider webs, foreshadowing the insidious means by which the indy pro heel inevitably traps his opponents and sucks them dry of their will to fight. And then there’s the way that the barrel-chested behemoth likes to call himself, “Daddy.” Yeah, BG East fans sit up and take notice anytime this bountiful muscle monster steps into the ring.

Guido simply cannot believe his eyes when his shiny, new, wet-behind-the-ears rookie opponent comes jogging to the ring. Kirk Donahue is a combination of Cameron Matthews’ little brother and the perfect Irish pro. Boyishly handsome, with an earnest smile and a naïve eagerness to break into the business, adorable Kirk is, almost literally, half the man Guido is. “What the fuck are you doing!?” big Guido rumbles in disbelief at the bit of fluff bouncing on the balls of his feet in front of him. “I’m here, in a wrestling ring,” dimple-cheeked Kirk replies, “so I’m here to wrestle!”

“No,” Guido shakes his head almost regretfully, “you’re here to get fucked!” For a man as mountainously muscled as he is, Guido is incredibly fast. He takes control of the deer-in-the-headlights rookie in an instant and drops him to the canvas. Kirk’s trapped arm looks like a toothpick in the pro heel’s crippling armbar. “Yeah, I’m going to snap this arm off, you little fuck!”

Kirk has no idea what hit him, over and over again, but he’d appreciate it if you took down the license plate. The rumbling bass voice of his opponent provides a running commentary of just how far over his head the stymied rookie is. Snapping him up into a headlock, Guido crushes Kirk’s rosie cheek against the behemoth’s massive, hairy pecs, pretty much swallowing the kid whole beneath layer upon layer of thick, powerful, meaty muscle. “What the fuck do you seriously think you’re going to do to me?” he growls deeply. “Why don’t you tap that mat before I snap your fucking neck!”

Obediently, Kirk taps out and quickly starts to drag his sorry ass across the ring to beat a hasty exit. Guido lets him start to climb through the ropes before he grabs him by the ankles and drags him back in. “Right back into the fucking web, right where you belong!”

Guido Genatto vs Kirk Donahue: “Feels so good to make you my fucking bitch!

Was it youthful exuberance or a death wish that motivated cherubic young Kirk Donahue to think that wrestling Guido Genatto was going to be anything other than a complete demolition? It clearly took only about 4 minutes in the ring for the rookie to reach the conclusion that the rest of us realized about 3 and a half minutes earlier. He’s going to be damned lucky if Daddy doesn’t cripple the kid!

Submissions fly left and right, but big Guido quickly grows tone deaf to them. A Boston crab twists Kirk’s back at a sickening angle, making the rookie scream, “I give!” But Guido just keeps cranking. A rear naked choke crushes the newbie’s windpipe beneath Daddy’s thick, bulging bicep, leaving just enough room for Kirk to rasp repeated pleas of mercy. Guido ignores them all. “This is what I do! This is why I love my life! I just choke little mother fuckers out!” He hoists the kid up and down, dragging Kirk’s drenched body across every inch of the ring in complete domination. A standing full nelson shows off the beautiful rookie’s hot, lean body. From that full nelson into a head-over-heels suplex, Guido knocks the kid out cold.

The rookie rouses to find himself mounted in a schoolboy pin, staring up at Guido’s massive crotch. “How’s the fucking view asshole? You like how that looks? You better like being pinned down in Daddy’s web!” We might want to give Kirk credit for choking down one of the most brutal, one-sided demolitions in BG East history, but honestly, it’s not like the kid has a choice. He tries to flee the ring repeatedly. He begs for mercy. He prays for divine intervention. “Who are you praying to?” Guido interrupts him. “I’m your fucking god right now!!”

Eventually, Guido gives the rookie a terrorizing choice to make. “I can break your fucking balls,” big Daddy offers, “or you can take surprise option #2. You gotta take one or the other.” Whatever it was that possessed young Kirk to dare to dream big enough to climb into the ring with Guido, it’s crystal clear what Daddy gets, as he drives the demolished rookie to the edge of sanity. “Oh yeah, feels so good to make you my fucking bitch!” the bruiser crows.

This is the Epitome of a Demolition Match. The apotheosis! Young Kirk had no idea the depths of terror and humiliation he’d face this day, but fans of big, hairy, sweat soaked beardaddy squash matches will understand what we mean when we say that this rookie is demolished like no one has ever been demolished before!

Jake Jenkins vs Flash LaCash: “I’ll make you humble!”

Flash LaCash has wrestled just once before for BG East, but he’s anything but a rookie. Looking like a beautiful, bronzed circus strongman, the mustachioed muscleman is a seasoned indy pro wrestler who has forgotten more about hurting an opponent than most guys will ever learn. Still, it takes balls to stare across the ring at one of the most prolific and popular wrestlers in the business and smirk, “What, are you one of the new guys around here?”

Jake Jenkins is most definitely not a new guy. Voted the Best Babyface two years running, it’s little wonder this barefoot beauty makes BG East fans drool like Pavlov’s dog. He’s devastatingly handsome and as fantastically fit as ever, packing that hot, athletic ass tightly inside American flag trunks. Jake has proven how dangerous his amateur wrestling and MMA backgrounds make him by bullying opponents much bigger than he is with incredible speed, stunning strength, and astonishing flexibility. But despite an unstoppable string of victories on the mat, success in the ring has eluded our fan favorite Best Babyface, and the one thing standing between him and scoring that first notch in the win column is a ballsy, bronzed powerhouse with a mustache and a bad attitude.

“Well, you look like one of the old guys!” young Jake snaps back, demonstrating he’s got balls, too. Staring up at his opponent standing 4 inches taller and 45 pounds heavier, perhaps exercising discretion might have been the better part of valor. But inciting bigger opponents into a fit of rage is straight out of Jake’s playbook, as the master tactician remains cold as ice and steady as a rock. Unintimidated. And why should he be? He’s faced BG East’s meanest ringstars from Jonny Firestorm to Guido Genatto and survived.

Then again, poking big Flash with a stick may be considerably more than Jake bargained for. A savage kick to the gut drops the star-spangled babyface like a sack of potatoes. Hoisted effortlessly up into the pro heel’s massive arms, Jake is little more than a practice dummy for Flash to parade around the ring and slam repeatedly to the mat. The sexy strongman sets laser sights on picking apart his smaller opponent, starting with the back.

Trapped in the corner, he softens up Jake’s lower lumbar with shoulder blocks and knee strikes. Dragging the handsome young stud around the ring by the back of his trunks, Flash slams Jake’s award winning face savagely into the mat before snapping him quickly up into a camel clutch. “I’ll make you humble!” the pro heel promises…

Jake Jenkins vs Flash LaCash: A Smart Ass in Need of a Spanking

“I hope you had your protein shake,” Flash laughs as Jake begins to pry his sweat soaked muscles off the mat after giving away a humbling first fall submission to the BG East newcomer. “Helping” him up by a revealing yank of Jake’s red, white and blue trunks, Flash maintains his tunnel vision: demolish Jake’s gorgeously muscled back! He traps the Best Babyface in the business in the ropes and takes his own sweet time delivering precision aimed knee strikes into Jake’s quivering lower lumbar. The brutalized young hunk can do nothing but take this torture as rivers of sweat pour off his glistening, battered but bound muscles.

“How’s that back,” Flash smirks, reaching randomly into his bag of pro heel back busters to begin to pry apart his shocked and awed opponent, vertebrae by vertebrae: Repeated scoop slams send electric shocks of agony up Jake’s throbbing spine. From a fireman’s carry, the pro heel deposits his prey in a reverse tree of woe, leaving Jake’s tormented back wide open for more expertly applied stomps. Dragging him by his hair back into the ring, Flash ties Jake’s spine into knots with a gruesomely vicious lion tamer that makes the babyface beauty scream a panicked submission.

“Warmed up yet?” Flash taunts, flexing his beautiful, bronzed muscles in the mirror as he waits for his opponent to peel his soaking carcass off the floor. “Had enough yet?” he asks as Jake gets to his feet. But a breathtaking standing drop-kick from Jake catches his cocky opponent completely off guard. As most of Jake’s opponents will attest, he’s one stubborn, calculating hunk who will refuse to be counted out. His endlessly trained wrestling brain and experienced physique can also soak up quite a lot of punishment and still mount a counterattack despite the agony his muscles are screaming.

Appropriately named, this pro heel’s flashing rage begins to turn the heat way up on the icy athlete. Soul sucking bodyscissors milk the fight right back out of flailing Jake. Even Flash can’t help but get his hands on the babyface’s sweet ass, landing cracking slaps across the sweat soaked red, white and blues. But no matter how overwhelmingly vicious the pro heel gets, he just can’t quite slap the smart ass out of Jake’s beautifully battered body. “Refresh my memory,” Flash snarls, “how many wins do you have?”

“All of them!” Jake defies belief, provoking his terrifying opponent to boil over with still more rage. Just how far Flash has to go to silence the stunningly stubborn babyface beauty once and for all will leave you, and Jake, breathless.