|American Trey Hardee - 6'5", 210 lbs., 28 y/o|
|Belgian Hans van Alphen - 6'3", 203 lbs., 30 y/o|
When Belgium decathlete Hans van Alphen jogs out from underneath the stands and across the track, the crowd hushes in anticipation. Trey points at him threateningly, towering above from the turnbuckle. More heavily muscled than his opponent and with a light coat of dark hair across his massive pecs, the Belgian stunner sports square cut trunks, black in front and yellow in back. When he reaches the ring and grabs the middle rope to hoist himself up to the apron, Trey leaps out of the corner and stands threateningly inside the ring, fists clenched, daring the Belgian beefcake to try to enter the ring. Hans circles the ring slowly as Trey follows his progress. When he finally leaps up to the apron and begins to duck under the top rope, the American drives a forearm across his upper back, hooks Hans' head underneath his right arm, and then grabs the waist of the Belgian's trunks with his left hand. Lunging low, Trey hoists the shocked Belgian off his feet and suplexes him over the top rope and into the ring. The hairy chested hunk slams to his back, and both men roll to their feet in a flash. Hans gently rubs his lower back as the two warily circle the ring. They approach for a collar and elbow tie up, but at the last instant Trey ducks under the Belgian's big arms, grabs him around the waist from behind, and snap suplexes the hunk, pounding his upper back to the mat. Again, both wrestlers are on their feet in a flash, but Hans is a fraction of a second slower than his American opponent. After circling one another warily for a few more seconds, Hans lunges to one knee and sweeps Trey's right leg. Holding him by the ankle, the Belgian lands a sharp heel strike to the American's hamstring before Trey kicks free and rolls back to his feet, massaging his leg. They continue to circle and trade lightening fast strikes, Trey focusing on quick knee lifts to soften up Hans' gut, mixed with snap suplexes to wear out his lower back. The Belgian clearly has his sights set on deflating the American's wheels with kicks to his thighs and leg sweeps setting up more strikes to his hamstrings. It's technical wrestling, strategic and methodical, until Hans once again controls Trey's right ankle after a leg sweep. After three sharp heel strikes to the hamstring, the American's attempt to kick free fails. Swiftly, Hans steps over the captured leg, twisting Trey to his stomach. Hooking the American's right ankle under his left arm, the Belgian sits back in a single leg crab that makes Trey pound his fists into the mat in frustration. A scream of agony punctuates the mat pounding when Hans reaches his free hand down between Trey's long, smooth legs and clutches at the American's balls savagely. The Belgian's fans in the stands roar their approval, bringing a smile to Hans' handsome face. Slowly, Trey strains to lift his shoulders off the mat, pressing his upper body until the shift in his center of gravity makes the Belgian stumble forward. A half a second later, and the American kicks free and climbs to his feet, massaging his crotch and shooting daggers from his eyes at his opponent. The tenor of the contest has turned distinctily personal. Hans' hairy pecs bounce excitedly. A surprising head-on charge from the American pushes Hans into the ropes. He's quickly whipped off the ropes, sprinting across the ring and being catapulted back again.
Trey's right knee catches the Belgian in his lower abdomen, sending him sommersaulting in mid-air and landing with a crash to his back. Stomps make the handsome hunk bounce of the mat. A handstand turns into a swinging knee driving into the Belgian's lower back. Hans arches on his side, his face contorted in agony. Shoving him flat to his stomach, Trey hooks the handsome Belgian's arms across his thighs and pries backward on his chin, sitting low in a camel clutch. The American's fans roar to life as he shakes Hans from side to side. "Give it up!" he demands, but the Belgian is nowhere near empty. Two solid minutes of the spine wrenching camel clutch, and then Trey flings him to the mat in disgust and stands up, his spandex tenting impressively, stretched across his crotch. Before Hans manages to climb up to his hands and knees, Trey drags him up to his feet by his hair, hooks his right arm between his legs, scoops him up and immediately slams him down on his lower back. Hans bridges high, his aching back arching in agony. Perfectly positioned, Trey grabs the Belgian's black and yellow trunks and jerk them off his legs. Trey swings the trunks from his fingers and winks at the fans who stomp and scream. He tucks the trunks in the waistband of his tights and turns his attention back to his naked opponent, taking aim and dropping to his side, intending to drive his right elbow into his opponent's lower abs. The Belgian rolls away, resulting in Trey pounding his elbow into the mat and then quickly clutching it in pain. Hans rallies quickly and drives his knee in between Trey's shoulder blades. The American drops to his back, and seconds later Hans laces their legs together and drops to his back in a tight figure-4 leg lock, threatening to snap Trey's right knee. The American wails, pounding his fists into the mat. The naked Belgian leans back on his left elbow and watches his opponent squirm and writhe, his right hand absent-mindedly stroking his big, veiny cock surrounded by a thick bush of dark hair. Flexing his thighs, the Belgian makes Trey scream as his knee is hyperextended dangerously. "You are just too pretty," Hans growls, pumping his quads and making the blond beauty scream louder. Sweat glistens across Trey's tanned, smooth body as every muscle tenses. The American's knee looks disturbingly out of alignment, but minutes into the crippling leg lock and he still refuses to submit. Hans' erection is more than a handful as his opponent suffers exquisitely. Frustrated with his opponent's resolve, the Belgian hunk finally unhooks the leg lock and crawls overtop of Trey, lowering himself stretched out across the American and slowly pumping his hips, sliding his erection between their sweaty bodies. "Submit to me now," Hans coos, "and I'll let you where my gold medal while I fuck you all night long." With a look of awe, Trey stretches his face upward until their lips meet. The Belgian drives his tongue deep into his opponent's mouth. Trey slides the palms of his hands up and down the mighty Belgian's broad, muscled back. His fingers trace down the corded muscles forming a deep ridge down his spine, until the Americans squeezes Hans' lightly hairy, powerful glutes with both hands. With his hands on Hans' hips, he slowly begins sliding the Belgian up and down his body, Hans' raging cock squeezed tightly between them. The pace quickens, until abruptly Hans wrenches his mouth away from Trey's lips breathlessly. His jaw hangs open dumbly; his eyes roll into the back of his head. A cry somewhere between pain and ecstasy explodes from his chest as he rolls his shoulders upward, leaning on straight arms over his opponent, and shooting a load across Trey's golden pecs. The look of shock across Hans' face, streaming with sweat, is complimented by the victorious smile stretching across the American's face. With a grunt, Trey rolls on top, pinning the backs of the Belgian's hands to the mat. Hans attempts to muscle himself free, but he's spent and the American is just too strong. Trey laces their legs together and forces the naked Belgian spread eagled. With his left forearm he begins choking him while throttling the decathlete's deflating cock with his right hand. Hans bucks his hips off the mat desperately, but he gets nowhere. His cock begins to swell again in Trey's hand even as his airway is choked off. "Good boy," Trey coos. "That's what I love about world class athletes!" Hans' eyes roll up into his head as Trey begins pumping the Belgian beef in earnest. "Submit!" Trey shouts. "No, no, no..." Hans mumbles. "SUBMIT!" the American demands louder, but the Belgian just shakes his head, his eyes drooping as his balls begin to contract. Abruptly Trey stops stroking his opponent and Hans' eyes snap open wide. "No!!!" he shouts desperately, "don't stop!" Trey squeezes the head of his opponent's cock tightly and growls into his face, "Submit!" "I-give-don't-stop-I-give-don't-stop..." Hans repeats over and over as Trey obliges, pumping the raging cock until the Belgian lets loose with another explosive finish, this time coating his own hairy pecs. 20 seconds later, and the American's forearm chokes the big Belgian out like a light, the look of ecstasy still stretched across his slack face. "One!" Trey slaps the mat next to his opponent's head. The crowd joins the count at "TWO!," and at the shout of "THREE," Trey climbs off his opponent and pumps his fists in the air, his singlet stretched taut over his massive erection. The camera flashes from the stands are blinding, just as the screams of adoration are deafening as Trey takes a minute to soak in the love.
|Hans tries to catch his breath|
|Czech Roman Sebrle - 6'1", 192 lbs., 37 y/o|
|German Pascal Behrenbruch - 6'5", 207 lbs., 27 y/o|
Roman is giving up 4 inches in height, 15 pounds in weight, and 10 years in age to his competitor who comes sprinting across the track and bounding into the ring to the roar of the crowd. German decathlete Pascal Behrenbruch is long, blond, stunningly smooth and tanned. He wears metallic gold bikini trunks that don't nearly cover the expanse of his hard, athletic ass. For that matter, his golden pouch is inadequate to keep his shaved balls under wraps as well, particularly as the beautiful goldenboy climbs up the turnbuckle and pumps his right fist in the air to get a rise from the crowd. Apparently, the German is unaware of the risks involved in turning your back on your opponent, because he never sees Roman slowly stroll up from behind and drive his right fist straight up between the German's outstretched legs. The long, lean goldenboy's knees buckle, but before he falls the powerful Czech quickly hooks his right arm between Pascal's legs. He drapes the German's toned body backward across his broad shoulders. The stands erupt, a nearly riotous mix of outrage and elation as the Czech muscle man yanks down on Pascal's legs and neck, bending the gorgeous boy's back around his neck. Pascal's screams are high pitched and frantic. Roman bounces on the balls of his feet, parading his prey across his shoulders for the viewing of the raging crowd shocked by the speed with which a world class competitor, a semi-finalist in the Olympics, is completely incapacitated and utterly humiliated. Roman shows off in the center of the ring, doing leg squats with his 207 pound German barbell racked like dead weight across his shoulders. The Czech adjusts his grip, yanking down on Pascal's chin with one hand while sliding his other hand underneath the German's metallic gold pouch to crush his testicles. The German writhes and kicks, flailing his arms, but it takes no more than a half a minute more before Pascal's screams of submission are heard punctuating the disbelieving gasps from the crowd. It's the fastest victory in homoerotic wrestling Olympic history. The Czech beast simply shrugs his shoulders and lets Pascal roll off, tumbling in heap to the mat behind him, as Roman pumps his fists and roars at the crowd.
|Roman flexes in victory!|
|Pascal doesn't know what just hit him.|
When Trey Hardee comes trotting into the infield 30 minutes later, the stadium is rocking and ready for the gold medal contest. Climbing gingerly up to the ring apron and ducking through the ropes, the American competitor is draped in an American flag. As he jogs around the perimeter of the ring, he pulls off the flag, revealing his tanned, sculpted torso. He's wearing his singlet again, the shoulder straps peeled down to his narrow waist. As the cameras flash and the crowd roars, he backs into a corner, draping the flag over the ropes and awaiting the arrival of his opponent.
|The disgust from the crowd sounds like music to Roman's ears.|
|A wary show of sportsmanship.|
|Trey goes on the offensive.|
His opponent, more 10 years his senior, appears even worse off... until Trey bends forward to drag him off the mat and suddenly finds the Czech's right claw latched to his testicles. As Roman slowly stands up tall, Trey's shoulders slouch forward as he clings to the Czech's forearm with both hands. A deep roar of boos from the crowd washes through the stadium. The young, handsome American seems to shrink as Czech savagely twists his claw, dropping Trey to his knees. Shoving Trey in the forehead, Roman sends the hunk falling to his back. Quickly grabbing both of Trey's ankles, the Czech spreads his opponent's legs wide and drives his heel into his balls, making Trey's shoulders levitate off the mat as shock and agony contort his face. Savagely, the Czech drops to his knees, driving his forehead into his opponent's crotch. Trey's hips bounce off the mat and he twists to the side, pulling his knees up to his chest with his hands clutched protectively around his pounded balls. Pools of sweat cover the center of the ring. Streams of it pour off of the handsome Czech's brow. He takes his time catching his breath and clearing his head, but his opponent continues to writhe and jerk in agony. Climbing back to his feet, Roman grabs Trey's ankles again and lift his legs off the mat. The American begs him to spare his balls further insult, pleading, nearly crying in desperation. With expert precision, the Czech bends Trey's long left leg and laces their legs together, locking on a vicious figure-4 leglock with precisely the same placement that nearly broke the American in his semi-final match. Roman arches his back and bridges, lifting his upper body off the mat and resting on his hands. The added pressure on Trey's knee makes him scream, incoherently at first, but then the clear wail of words escape his mouth. "I-I-I-I G-i-i-i-ve!!!!" The Czech releases the hold and kneels next to his conquered opponent, pumping his fists in victory, as the chorus of boos from the stadium rain down on him.
|Gold medal for the Czech!|
30 minutes go by as the homoerotic wrestling fans in the stadium are treated to slow motion replays on the massive screens, documenting the key moments from the individual rounds. When the screens go black, a fresh wave of enthusiasm washes through the stands as they see Trey Hardee trotting back out of the locker room, clearly favoring his right knee. He waves in response to the outpouring of support, but the once invincible American champ is clearly humbled heading into the tag team competition.
Once again, Trey wears his skin tight red singlet with his shoulder straps hanging from around his waist, the American flag draped across his bulging shoulders.
|American Ashton Eaton - 6'1", 181 lbs., 24 y/o|
Ten seconds behind him comes his American teammate, Ashton Eaton, wearing a matching red singlet. He's also left his shoulder straps off, displaying the long, lean muscles that have made him the rising new star on the world stage. As they take up position behind one of the corner posts, the two are strikingly handsome and clearly fan favorites.
|Belgian Hans van Alphen|
Next to come sprinting out of the locker room and into the infield is the Belgian beauty, Hans van Alphen. He's cleaned up and rehydrated from his semi-final humiliation at the hands of Trey, and he's somehow reclaimed the black and yellow trunks that he lost to the American.
|Brit Daniel Awde - 6', 181 lbs., 24 y/o|
For the team competition, Hans has reached across the channel to team up with the Brit wild child, Daniel Awde. Known for his high flying outrageous risk taking, Daniel has been a wild card on the homoerotic wrestling decathlete circuit. When the punk rock fanatic lands on top, he's devastating. When the high risk moves don't pay off, he frequently knocks himself out of the competition.
When gold medalist Roman Sebrle saunters across the track and into the infield toward the ring, his reputation proceeds him. Every fan is on his feet, booing and hissing at the vicious champ. Food and cups are thrown onto the track after him in disgust, but the Czech champ remains above it all, smiling confidently. For his tag team appearance, he's dressed only in his signature posing pouch, leaving his gorgeous, lightly hairy glutes bare.
|Mihail Dudas - 6'2", 198 lbs., 29 y/o|
Roman has teamed up with the Serb heart throb, bodybeautiful Mihail Dudas. Mihail's success on the circuit has been limited, but his ego seems to only exponentially grow regardless of whether he's on the medal stand in the end. He's powerful, vicious, and has been mentored by the gold medalist for the past year, making him simply more of everything that comes natural to him: powerful, merciless, cocky, underhanded. He sports red square cuts with the outline of white palm prints accentuating his astonishingly bubbly muscle butt.
The humiliated German wrestler, Pascal Behrenbruch, is the captain of the final team in the 4-way gold medal match. The look on his face as he strides across the track toward the infield communicates with crystal clarity. He's back to redeem his shockingly pitiful showing in the individual competition. His smooth, tan body is oiled; his muscles are pumped; and he's replaced his destroyed golden trunks with a more modest baby blue speedo.
|Latvian Darius Draudvila - 6'2", 198 lbs., 29 y/o|
When Pascal's teammate comes jogging across the track into the infield after him, the gasps from the crowd are audible. Pascal has passed over his long-time tag team partner, a fellow German heath throb and world class contender, and selected Latvian muscleman Darius Draudvila to join him in his corner. Darius is a long-time world class competitor, but has had only limited success in the ring, making his selection by Pascal that much more mysterious. As he leaps up to the ring apron in a matching baby blue speedo, Pascal grabs him by the back of the head and plants a possessive, lingering, wet kiss, perhaps solving the mystery.
|Mihail starts for his team.|
|Ashton is out to redeem team USA|
|Cocky Mihail flexes for the fans.|
|Pascal has something to prove|
|Roman is determined to beat the odds|
|Pascal just can't wait to get his hands on Roman!|
A stunning heel to the back of Pascal's right knee drops the German violently to his knees. Roman rolls backward off of his shoulders and curls in a ball behind him, clutching his testicles. The American takes a wide stance and wraps his right forearm across the German's throat from behind. Clutching his left bicep in his right hand, Ashton flexes and quickly presses shut the flow of blood to the blond adonis' head. Pascal's eyes roll into the back of his head as he slips into unconsciousness. Dropping him to his back, Ashton slaps down a decisive three count to signal that the German is out of the competition.
Darius wails like a wounded animal when he sees his partner kicked unconscious to the infield. Distracted, he fails to see Trey back on his feet, positioning himself carefully behind him, and then leaping high into the air. The standing drop kick catches the Latvian muscleman squarely between the shoulder blades. He lunges forward, losing his grip on Hans' head, and running nose-first into Daniel's swinging elbow. Blood gushes down across his lips as he collapses on his knees and elbows. Ashton joins the fray to drop his leg across the back of Darius's head, smashing the bashed hunk face first into the mat. Daniel straddles Darius' legs and yanks the Latvian hunk's baby blue trunks off, pressing them to his nose and inhaling deeply. Trey stands nearby, his hands on his hips, instructing Hans to control Darius' right ankle and Ashton to grab the hunk's left ankle. The boys obediently do so, flipping the Latvian to his back on Trey's command. Daniel needs no instruction to instantly schoolboy pin Darius' shoulders to the mat and dig out his own British beef, shoving his excited head into the Latvian's gaping mouth. Darius grunts in desperation, his mouth full of the Brit's excitement. Trey takes a leisurely stroll around the triple-teamed competitor before placing the ball of his right foot on Darius' shaved balls, pressing them firmly to the mat. Darius' muffled wails rise an octave in panic. With four men holding him down, he's completely immobile. Trey finally taps Daniel on the shoulder from behind. "I think he's trying to tell us something." Daniel reluctantly slides his now fully-engorged cock out of the hunk's mouth, and instantly the Latvian screams, "I give!!!"
|Hans flexes his devastating muscles|
|Trey screams for Daniel to stop playing around!|
|Daniel lusts for making somebody suffer|
|Roman's gorgeous body glistens as he climb to the top turnbuckle.|
|Trey cannot believe it's back to just him and Roman!|
|Trey celebrates an exhausting, tag team victory!|
|Team Gold Medalists: Americans Ashton Eaton and Trey Hardee|
|Hans van Alphen gets to wear gold, after all!|