Zach looms just outside the ring, close enough that his furry pecs caress the steel cable ropes surrounding the squared circle. Zach, with stoic gaze studies his Adonis of an opponent Joseph Justice; ice tints his brown irises as Zach measures and calculates the 230-pound Justice. Having seen enough Zach parts the ropes, asserting his presence. He snorts, hands on hips, hardly hiding his disdain for another alpha, (as if anyone could be more alpha than him! Ha!)
“You look pretty good,” the stocky bruiser concedes. Joey is given about half a second to soak up the compliment, allowing it to wrinkle his incredibly angular jawline into a handsome smirk, which recedes as abruptly as it appeared, product of an air soaking tension fueled by Zach’s next comment, “You think you’re stronger than me?” (To which Joey promptly replies, “Yes. Definitely.”) Subtle inflections in the predator’s tones possess hidden consequences waiting to manifest in the wake of cocky banter. Though nothing at all is subtle about Zach’s demand for a contest of high stakes – in which the buff wolf stipulates that the loser will be left no option – the conqueror will be oiled and worshipped at the loser’s expense (and the viewer’s distinct pleasure).
As cocky muscle freaks are prone to exhibitions of extremely combatant behaviors, Zach has persuaded Joey - without any argument – to compete in a contest of strength, of which the proposed repercussions we are acquainted. Now they lace fingers and grip hands in mutual resistance, pitting powerful arms against one another, seeking strength’s conquest with knightly conviction through the trial of arm-wrestling. The sheer, rugged handsomeness of Zach and Joseph is spellbinding and matched only by each their arms, of which it is nearly impossible to distinguish, to whom the better guns belongs.
Zach’s supposition that innate and unquestionable supremacy over men is his birthright - is routinely tested; Joseph is proving the toughest variety of Zach’s compulsive methodology and accordingly, soon is burrowing beneath the fur coat covering of the arrogant muscle god. Each Display of strength favoring Joseph further submerges Justice underneath the thick gorges of vascularity that must be Zach’s veins or the preternatural equivalent. Zach is humanoid merely as a point of reference to mortal perception, for he is undoubtedly some sort of monster, or demon, or emissary of ancient gods. Whatever the case, human he is not.
Sensing a serious threat from the formidable Joseph Justice, Zach reverts to animal instinct, low blowing Joey! Zach unapologetically claims his kingdom by sinking to depths ungoverned by honor. A groin shot is arguably an easy out, but there is no easy way out of Zach’s Bearhug squeeze of crushing power and resolute grip. The sadistic monster’s cruel embrace paves a road teeming with menace and degradation, upon which to lead one smolderingly sexy victim. Zach revels in villainy, bathing in sweat, self-satisfaction and soon, sweet, sweet oil.
