"In the year 2025, every professional wrestling federation on the planet has acknowledged [its] homoerotic nature and encourages wrestlers to use sex as a weapon in the ring."This is the premise of Rowdy Armstrong: Wrestling's New Golden Boy, David Monster's 300-page wrestling utopia, set in the near future. The novel, published last year, with the promise of a soon-to-be-released sequel, portrays the life and loves of Rory Pedersen, from fandom at age thirteen to the verge of fortune and fame in the ring by age eighteen in a world where mainstream pro wrestling has become unashamedly homoerotic.
It's pulp fiction through and through and not for the kids (of course, it all depends on the kids). The emphasis is on blow-by-blow description of the matches, which feature a few dirty tactics you may want to highlight in red for easy reference later. You'll meet an array of talent: rookies and champions from around the world, wrestling and fucking their way to the topmost title, All World Pro Wrestling Federation Heavyweight Champion.
Here's a taste, from the book's climactic midpoint, a championship match between the reigning world champion, Dyer Anderson (6', 285#), and the challenger and ex-champ Chris Enos (6'2", 235#):
Enos slid one hand down Anderson's muscle belly and burrowed his fingertips down in through the waistband of his trunks. He fumbled around, and untied The Champ's trunks, then pulled them down, and lodged them up under The Champ's balls. Anderson's boner sprung to attention, and he tried to cover his erection with his hands. The Crowd on that side of the ring stood up. Rory got a close-up shot of it on his virtual TV, and he couldn't help but manipulate his own excited penis.
Anderson tried to pull his trunks back up just as Enos rammed his hips forward and pulled up on the middle rope, grinding it into The Champ's balls.
Enos grinned, "Wait, one more second." He kept pulling up on the rope with one hand, and pushed his other hand into the pubic bone just above The Champ's erection, then slowly moved the heel of his hand down.
The Champ's erection, and balls, were now in a vice created by Enos's hand, and the middle rope of the ring. Anderson's mouth hung open, and his hands shook, as he held them out just in front of his throbbing manhood, immobilized by pain, and a fair amount of pleasure.If it all sounds like Spartacus Meets Huck Finn in the Valley of the Dolls, with a touch of Terry Southern and Mason Hoffenberg's Candy, that's because that's exactly what it is. And if the excerpt above awakens a taste for literature deep inside your pants, the rest of this entertaining hoot of a book may be what you need to finish you off.