Money Mike vs Brody Merritt

Weekend Wrestling opens on a cocky scene: Money Mike gleaming in the ring in his gold cap, gleaming golden trunks, black-and-gold kneepads and white athletic shoes, chatting on his phone and bragging about how he lifted some cash “nice and clean.” His flexed torso and overstuffed pouch tell one story, but his mouth tells another. That’s when Brody Merritt steps in—phone in hand, recorder rolling, calling him out and investigating every shady word while wrapped in his signature Superman letterman jacket, shiny black trunks packed tight, blue kneepads and glossy red athletic shoes. The accusations pile up until Mike’s had enough; one stiff kick to Brody’s breadbasket cuts the lecture short, and jackets and hats are peeled off early, leaving two thick jocks in little more than their trunks and attitude to settle it the old-fashioned way.

Brody answers that first cheap shot with pure, punishing power—hoisting Mike up into a modified stretch muffler, his gold-covered leg draped high as Brody shows him off, then shifting into a Gory special and rocking horse that bow the money man’s body, forcing him to arch and open up for the camera. A half camel clutch, a grinding modified leg lock, body scissors and an over-the-knee backbreaker all put Mike’s trunk-clad torso on brutal display, and when Brody starts mixing in low blows—stomps and a nasty head butt—things get filthy fast, especially when he stuffs dollar bills in Mike’s mouth and chokes him with his own symbol of power. But Money Mike has his own arsenal: he stomps Brody’s lower abs, grinding his foot deep into that thick midsection, then crushes him with shoulder blocks in the corner, deep atomic wedgies that drag those shiny black trunks up hard, and bites that leave the straight-laced stud squirming. Surfboards, headscissors, body scissors, a cobra clutch, dragon sleeper with a deep front-trunk-pull, and atomic drops all force Brody’s body into long, involuntary arches—legs spread, hips high, giving the camera lingering, intimate views he sometimes leans into voluntarily. It’s jock vs high-roller in tight gear, and the entire match is one long, sweaty tug-of-war over who gets to walk out with the cash, the pride, and the better-looking bruises.