Smelly feet fetish

Harvey had glued his hands and feet together, so he could be her earrings. Nothing serious, just an accessory. He wanted to swing by her neck and take giant whiffs of her perfume. And he wanted to feel the swish of her hair as she brushed it aside while flirting with another man… or woman.
He paid her $10,000 and she said she’d do it, but
“I’m gonna be up front with you, this is weird as hell.”
He said he didn’t care.
“It’s just for tonight ‘cause I could really use the money,” she said, “but you little guys have got to stop this giant fetish you have.”
“Oh it’s impossible to get rid of. It’s driving some men mad. Ever since you… Jotun crashed through the redwoods, comin' down from God-knows-where in Oregon, we’ve been decimated by lust.”
“Alright, maybe that’s enough with the sad stories for tonight.”
“Ok, yes mam.”
“Great.”
“Mam?”
“What?”
“If you sleep with someone tonight and you keep me in your ears, I'll give you an extra $50,000.”
“You gotta be fucking kidding me” she sighs at the ground. Pinching her nose and taking a deep breath, she thinks of her son, who’s image alone punched her guts and vomited up the word,
“Fine.”
At the party, Harvey spotted other rich men, some as earrings, some as bracelets, some simply hanging in the pockets of blouses. This semi-sexual business of accessory men has been a huge source of economic prosperity for the giants, which means they're becoming even more powerful. This terrifies many people. Already suicide cults and guerilla factions are forming all over the world (sometimes they’re one and the same).
There are many who are clamoring for the execution of men like Harvey, and even at this moment bills are being drafted to something of that very effect.

First/Previous
Satan was on the air, on the night, within everything in the long shadows cast by the setting sun and with him came a chill to the air that I could never hope to internalize; it might kill me.
From a rotted abode across the street, I watched the large outbuilding and the field in which we’d buried the hand and I found myself in prayer—among the torn and exposed studs of dry-rotted wood and rusted metal I caught my own whispers and forced myself to stop like I intended to convene with God right there in the dark; I wasn’t there for Allah. It was something else that compelled me there. I whispered the prayer and felt foolish at my own voice and ducked lowly among the rubble and held my breath to watch the sunlight go from the land and in a blink, the light was gone, and I was there in darkness that at first was a terror and then I slipped into it through blinks and the surroundings became clearer even in the dark.
Time went on.
I was exposed, but the yougins were safe—Trouble too. If nothing else mattered in the world, then they should go on without me. It had come to me so suddenly (maybe it was the prayer that withdrew such a sentimentality) that I liked them okay.
Before anything else, a cat’s hiss came so faintly that I plugged my ear with my pinky, shook it and listened again; the noise grew closer, and I could do nothing but watch the field and squint in the darkness and wait.
Fumbling, I counted the glass containers with touch only—two in my jacket pocket and the third by my feet—and my fingers then danced to the threadbare strap of the shotgun on my shoulder; I shed my pack for mobility.
The domineering creature lurched forcefully from the shadows and then went on display in the moonlight properly and its arched back protruded even over its own head till it lifted that muzzle, so its rattish face was cut out in a black outline; it was sniffing, and the hiss came through the air again. The Alukah kept a serpentine strut, smoothly gliding across the ground as it used its hands like forelegs to press its snout against the ground. In watching, I consciously relaxed my shoulders and refrained from biting my teeth together. That creature found the spot it had been searching for—it seemed roughly the place we’d buried the hand—and it took its claws there with bestial shovelfuls.
In a hurry, I gathered the jar I’d placed by my feet—it would not slide so gracefully into my jacket as the others—and as quietly as I could, I slinked around the rubble, through two studs, and onto the dirt. Within milliseconds, my own heartbeat pounded all over my body and I stood in the street and lit the Molotov cocktail with a lighter and took closer to the creature.
It shifted around and in that moment I wished I had a light source powerful enough to expose its body; I tossed the cocktail in a high arch and it exploded in a moment by the creature’s feet as it stood and pivoted to look at me fully; its solid white eyes were wide in a glance of moon-shine and it slung itself from the eruption of flames around its feet with violent speed. Its black hair hung down the sides of its face and its head parted midway to expose a snarl. It stalked in a circle around the concentration of flames, remaining mostly in the dark; the thing moved slowly nearer, those long arms swaying in front of itself with each step.
You should know better. It stopped midstride, coming no closer and we each stood there in the field roughly thirty feet from one another, and I refused to take my eyes from it. The boy’s mine. The flames began to flicker and die. For how long we stood like that, I couldn’t say, and I waited.
I couldn’t find a voice till it was all dark again, besides the moon and stars. “Why can’t you leave us be? There’s easier pickins.”
You offer yourself too much credit, Harlan. We remained in silence and in the darkness the creature may have been a statue—in a blink it seemed as much. You are a corpse, no? A walking corpse of a man! A terrible sickness is in you. I know it. I see it on you as plainly as I see your fear.
Rigidity took over my body and I puffed my chest out like it meant something and I shook my head, “I’m not afraid.”
Not of me, no. Of yourself? Something. The voice lingered with the ends of its words, drawing them out first guttural then it left them on hisses. Something I know.
I lit the next Molotov, and the creature didn’t move; I threw the bottle furiously and it went into the darkness like a far candleflame till it erupted in the spot the Alukah had been standing—the thing had leapt from there, leaving me unawares and I lowered myself to the ground in a crouch, swiveling my head around to catch the thing in the dark. The flames on the ground danced brightly, leaving me light-blinded.
Not again, said the thing, You will not catch me so easily with fire again. It was behind me, nearer the outbuilding and it took a moment through blinks for my eyesight to return well enough to see the grotesqueness of the misshapen massive humanoid thing.
The Molotov explosion burned then disappeared and we stood looking at one another again and I felt silly, foolish, radically unprepared, and overwhelmingly trivial in the grand scheme of the universe—if it wanted to, it could leap the distance between us and rip me to shreds. Why didn’t it kill me? Why wasn’t I dead?
That damnable night creature extended one of its massive forehands, flexing the digits on the end of its arm and whispered its words like a plea, The boy, Harlan. That is all. Take that brimstone smelly girl and carry that shell of a body—walk on to whatever hole you humans call home.
Hoping to not draw a movement from the creature, I pressed my forearm against my ribcage, feeling the last Molotov that was there in the inner pocket and I gently slid the strap from my shoulder, and held my shotgun in both hands, licking my dry lips, watching the dark frame of the Alukah, fearing even a moment of distraction; my eyes locked on the creature and I refused to speak.
No deal then. It wasn’t a question; its rattish snout offered a mild nod of understanding. You despise a good sense of words.
I readied the shotgun, legs spaced in proper formation—looking down the barrel, I held my breath and upon squeezing the trigger, the thing knocked into my shoulder, but the creature was gone. In scanning, I found the thing had moved from the field and bounded wildly across the street towards the dead ruins of Annapolis, its muscular limbs made short work of fleeing.
The outbuilding remained quiet and erectly tall, and I moved to its shadow and cussed whispers for wasting ammunition. Only three shells remained; worse, I’d wasted two of my explosives. I watched the horizon in the opposite direction of the crowded foundations of Annapolis and carefully held my breath in watching and I prayed again, hoping that the commotion would not draw attention.
An overwhelming sense of foolishness welled in my guts, and I trotted off towards the direction I’d watched the Alukah go, through the ramshackle streets haphazardly.
The darkness was maddeningly empty, so I filled it with shouts, “C’mon! This is your turf, ain’t it? This darkness is yours so come and take me if you can!” Rusty as I was, I held the shotgun like never before, squinting my eyes, keeping my pace in unison with my heartbeat. There’s a place in that darkness that is beyond reproach, beyond the comprehension of a city dweller, beyond even my own understanding and I found myself padding through those streets at an accelerated rate, hopeful to confront the demon and I only found more dead and vacant lots and I crossed more than two intersections where the signs were either gone or indecipherable in the black shadows cast there. I wished for a payback of the demon’s hunt or perhaps I wished for something even more than that—what did I need to prove and to who? “You sick and twisted and foul beast!” I went so loud I continued to hoarseness, “Slimy fuck!” I’s so mad that spit came with the words too.
Still, there was nothing and I came to a final crossroads, a place more commercial—at least for a flatland dead town—where brick storefronts half-stood on those four corners. Finding my voice again, I continued my tirade, cursing the demon, “Come get some—c’mon already! Here’s your fight?” I was scared though.
A sudden noise from the dilapidated storefront to my left startled me to pivot and watch, gun pulled up, and I focused as hard as I could on the recesses of that shadowed place; it was a large antiquated face where a window might have sat many years prior. Wet and hungry sounds emanated from that place, the disgusting noises of a fiend—even in knowing it, I was surprised in seeing the new creature spill out in a lumpish mess of slickened muscles, lubricated, its innumerable arms and legs clawed its own body forward so that it rolled like a mushy ball—each of those limbs remained human in nature. Upon the thing pulling itself onto the street, I staggered backwards, gun still raised, and watched its form take a modicum of understanding in the moonlight; its mouths—sporadically, illogically placed over its mass of a body—opened and seemed to try and speak with each one merely letting go of meekly audible, painful sighs in doing so. The eyes, spaced much the same as the mouths, blinked and rolled as if it was torture for the thing to live. The mutant was a tongue-like mass at its center, and it was almost the size of a horse—I’d seen fiends grow much larger, but this was still a great threat.
In moving away from where it spilled onto the street, I stumbled backwards and caught myself on the backfoot and clumsily spun into a sprint; my boots pounded in my flight from the thing, and it chased after.
Its mouths exhausted terrible sighs as it gained speed in the relative openness of the street and in seconds, I would not have been surprised if the thing snatched me by an ankle and devoured me without thought—not that fiends had any other thoughts above the basest urge to consume.
The pursuit kept me going in the dark, watching the still shadows of the dilapidated housing and I pushed on until I tasted copper; my breathing went raspy—it’d been so long since I’d been forced to run from such a creature in the open. I took a glance back and saw it coming, gaining speed in its perpetual roll; its body excreted some fluid across itself so that it could glide more easily.
Coming to a crossroads I’d passed earlier, or perhaps it was a new one—I couldn’t fathom in the dark—I took in the direction of what I thought was south and ran full throttle; my knees ached.
In hoping to confuse the mutant, I quickly dove towards the right side of the southbound street, towards some ramshackle, through the skeletal framing of a skinless house without a roof; I pushed through the pencil-narrow vertical beams and stumbled through, landing onto the unseen ground on the other side. My left leg spasmed and in the millisecond that it took for my nerves to register the pain, I let out a mild, “Oh.” I tried to lift myself from the spot and found that my left leg refused to bend straight; in total horror—more so from my body failing than the mutant—I swiveled my torso around and scooted on my rear across the ground, raking myself in the opposite direction of the fiend.
The mutant slammed into the frame; its many arms reached through the bars and in a moment, it began to use its hands to lift itself along the exposed wall and I scooted further away till my back met the bars of where an opposite wall would’ve gone. In a scramble, I snatched the shotgun, pushed myself sniff against the bars on my side and watched the thing down the barrel; I waited and concentrated on my own breathing. If nothing else worked, I still had that Molotov—if not for it then for me.
As it crested the top of the wall made of bars, I watched patiently and only when I was certain I fired.
The mutant, the great meatball-thing that it was, lost its grasp for a moment and slipped onto the arrangement of vertical bars; I gush of liquid, illuminated in starlight, shot from its base of its soft body; it began to try and catch its grasp on the bars and I took a moment for myself to examine my left knee—I pulled it as close to my face as I could manage which was hardly at all—some black triangular mass had lodged itself into my flesh; more accurately, I’d slammed myself onto something sharp in my panic to flee the fiend. In a second, not thinking of the repercussions, I gripped the thing with my left hand and clamped my mouth onto my right hand, biting into fat of my hand by the thumb. The debris was free from my leg, and I let it to fall to the ground; blood ran freely into my mouth and I let go of the bite and tentatively lifted the gun again, ignoring the pain; the creature continued to struggle, and I fired again. It slipped again, further impaling itself on the bars.
I had one shell left.
Using the place I’d propped my back, I pushed free from the ground and put all my weight onto my right leg, testing the left; I staggered—hopped really—around in the small square of ground surrounded by metal framing and searched the ground for something long. I unearthed the dirt around my feet and found a long piece of metal rod; setting the gun to the side, I lifted the metal rod over my head and then slowly arched it out from my body. It would give me just enough room to further injure the thing while also staying well out of its grasp.
I swung the makeshift weapon down like a bat or a sword and the fiend slid a little further down the bars, the exit wounds began to show across the top of its roundish body, and I smacked it again—its mouths spoke words that could nearly be understood. Though it took only moments, I was thoroughly exhausted by the time the creature had reached the ground again, good and dead and impaled upon six of those vertical bars. I tossed the weapon to the ground, lifted my gun, and shimmied through the bars on the opposite side of the square.
Adrenaline only lasts so long, and my left leg throbbed to the point of nausea; I did not want to inspect the wound, but on rounding the ramshackle and watching the still dead thing, I stumbled into the street and knelt and lifted my pant leg. It was dark and bloody and already it was burning. Infection was my first thought. A puncture wound could spell a terrible fate. I shifted to sit in the street. My leg didn’t bend right.
The cat’s hiss came from the darkness and there wasn’t a way I could respond in time; I felt those long nasty fingers grab me by the back of my neck and I was lifted immediately from the ground—the gun clattered to the ground and all I could do was initially freeze and stiffen and then my hands moved to the grasp which held me firmly by the throat; those massive knuckles were like stones.
The Alukah had me and situated me so that it could look into my face, its long black hair hid its eyes but I could smell its breath and see its teeth which rested in its round mouth. I could snap you. It seemed to nod its head, but to detect humanity in that damnable pale face was a mistake.
I choked.
What’s that? It relaxed its grasp on my throat.
“Do it.”
Why’re you crying? Its foot brushed against the gun at its feet, and it lifted it with its free hand, and it commented casually, Little human toy.
It moved, holding me by the throat, dragging me along the ground in an abnormal sluggish gait. It was hard to see anything but the night sky, anything but the strange angle of the demon—with its grip, it was hard to breathe, and tears indeed welled in my eyes, and I held to its forearm to distribute some of the weight of my own body away from my neck. With its tugging, I could not speak, but it spoke.
I’ll squeeze you dry, but your blood’s too tainted to drink. That won’t make it any less interesting. I’ll twist you like a rag and see which hole it comes from first. More than that, you’ll scream. You’ll scream so loud everyone will know. Everyone will know what I’ve done to you—once you’re no more than ruin. Not even Mephisto would balk at my handiwork once I’ve had my time with you. God will look on your sour corpse with so much disgust there won’t be a place for you anywhere. Only Oblivion, a place worse than any.
The creature moved us to the open field, tilted its head back and forth, rose its rattish face to the sky and snorted and then clearly sniffed, dropping the gun to its feet to brush the long black hair from its eyes; its muscular body shone in the moonlight so that even its bluish veins stood plainly from its white skin. It shifted its gaze to the outbuilding—maybe fifty yards away—where the youngins were hidden.
Deftly, the thing lifted me from where it had kept me by its side and my feet levitated over the air, I felt feet taller, suspended from that long arm the way I was. It took its free hand to my midsection and I felt the digits of its hand squeeze my ribs and it let go of my throat and I coughed and wheezed, placing my hands on its fingers to dig into that thing’s skin—it didn’t matter—in seconds, a scream escaped my rattling throat; it squeezed more and I felt the glass bottle in my jacket burst from the force then the Alukah gave relief and I tried to gulp air, but felt pangs along my body. My jacket was wetted from blood by the broken bottle shards entering my body or from the contents of the bottle or both.
Urine? It pulled me close to itself, sniffed, and shook its head. Oil? it cackled, Again! Beg for the help you do not deserve! It held me outright once more.
Again, the great hand constricted me and again I could not help but to let out a scream—my lungs were on fire, my voice stretched like a dying animal. I heard barks and saw nothing through wild choking tears. The grip softened.
I coughed more and tried to speak; the Alukah brought me close to itself as if to wait and listen to what I had to say. Weeping words fell out in a whisper, “Kill me. Do it. I don’t mind.”
Another sharp laugh exited the thing’s throat and it squeezed again, facing me out so that I could look at the black outline of the outbuilding. I heard the barking again and I saw the figures stumble out from the sidelong face of the outbuilding. I blinked to remove the tears.
A voice, neither mine nor the demon’s, shouted an attempt at authority, “Let him go!” It was Gemma. They rounded the building so that moonlight removed them from obscurity. Gemma held Trouble on a lead while Andrew followed.
Trouble growled.
The smile was audible through the Alukah’s voice, Strong words for one so dainty. I felt its grip tighten and I chuffed and couldn’t manage a word.
“Get it!” shouted Gemma; she let go of Trouble’s lead and the dog looked curiously at me and the demon where we were and tucked its tail and circled to hide behind the children.
The Alukah laughed. Scary dog.
I was lightheaded while my vision went; I should die—I’d bleed out there or some unknown medical oddity would shut me off. Perhaps I’d will myself to death. My head nodded tiredly, and I fought it, blinking, shaking my head to maintain my eyes.
“You want me?” The boy took a few steps forward and his voice cracked. “We could make a deal.”
The Alukah lowered me so that my feet skimmed the ground but shifted to keep a tight hold around only my throat. Oh?
“What are you doing?” shouted Gemma; she closed the space between herself and Andrew and shoved him.
He shoved her back. “Me for him,” he addressed the demon.
Is that the deal?
Everything in my body protested while I reached for the jean pocket on my right side; I could not reach it. I stretched and my ribs screamed in pain—it was worse than bruising. The demon did not notice me moving. Maybe because my movements were weak, subtle. I tried again while mentally asking God for help and I came short of the pocket. I cursed Him and then my shaking fingers found the pocket. I withdrew the lighter there.
“That’s right,” said Andrew.
“No, he won’t,” Gemma’s voice was aflame.
It’s not your deal to make, girly.
I took the lighter to my jacket, lit it, and the flames grew around me in a flash, feeding on the oil.
The Alukah hissed, attempted to unwrap its hand from around me while I dug into its forearm with two claws and bit onto the thing’s hand for extra purchase. It swung me around and my legs flew limply. It took every bit of strength I had.
Let go! The Alukah shrieked.
Trouble barked, the children screamed, and I bit deeper till that thick black blood filled my mouth. The flames were immaculate, cleansing, more furious than I could’ve imagined. Not for life—that’s not why I held on so strongly—it was for them, for Andrew and Gemma. Me and that creature should’ve burned together. Fitting.
Delirium took over and I swiveled overhead in the demon’s tantrum, holding onto that arm. The Alukah hissed, roared, shouted nasty epithets.
The gunshot rang out and I met ground, hard.
Exhaustion or death could’ve taken me then, but it was the former.
When consciousness came again, it was hands, smacking hands that brought me to life—then the vague smell of burnt hair, cooked flesh. My body stung and I could not move but to lift my face from the dirt where I lay belly-flat.
“You almost died,” said Gemma somewhere between hope and sorrow, “You almost killed yourself!” She shook me and shoved me hard enough so that I rolled on my back. She’d been crying, but surely, we’d won. What was there to cry for? If we’d lost, she wouldn’t be talking at all.
She left me and I stared at the sky through slits. The sun was coming but I couldn’t feel the warmth; I couldn’t feel anything (that would be a sweet memory in the time to come). It was quiet save the crackling I heard; it was like the lowness of a dying fire. It wasn’t me? I wasn’t on fire?
When she returned, she lifted my head to place my pack underneath it; it elevated my vision. I surveyed my surroundings. The outbuilding was there and the Alukah lay on the ground perhaps ten feet from me; its body charred and sizzled and caught little flames in response to the cresting sunrise; everything was a daze—we’d won.
Gemma’s eyes glittered, and she called the dog over and the dog sniffed my face and the girl’s lips remained flat, expressionless.
I saw the boy’s body—it lay motionless alongside the dead Alukah and alongside that body was my shotgun. The body’s head sat on its side, disconnected from its owner, facing away from where I lay.
“He killed it. He shot it.” Gemma sat beside me, and Trouble placed her snout on the girl’s shoulder. “We’re going to die,” she nodded.
First/Previous
Archive

hello people of my wacky Subreddit, here in this Subreddit is were all of my randomness depends on your art and memes, ytps and out of contexts, in here. people can post about what i post on this subreddit. here is some rules to follow in this random reddit:

1. be nice to the mod of this reddit(me) even if you think that Im too cringe, autistic or weird
2. be nice to other people (especaly the furries, people with mental illness, people who are disabled, or even the horny)on the subreddit
3. no racism
4. do not oversexulize the creator of this Subreddit(don't draw rule34 of me)
5. i am only active up to the 5 days of the week(the mod being active in saterday,sunday,monday,thursday or friday is optional)
6. any post that is offensive is considered for baning
7. any type of art is acceptable(if its not cringe)
8. no fart drawings,no wedgies, no ass pics(only if its not considered dummi thicc with no cheeks), no adult diapers, and especially NO FEET FETISHES
9. fat fetish is aloud(i have it to)
10. teratophilia is aloud
11. the ship i prefer is only aloud in this reddit if its custom

Hi hallo I am from Johannesburg South Africa and I am gay feet lover is there other gay guys with foot fetish please let us get together for good times please 🙏

Hi there, I have a very strong foot fetish and sometimes it is all I can think of when I think of Sex. Like when I see a hot guy, I am instantly drawn to his shoes and socks and I start wondering how his feet look like and how his socks smell like. Even while masturbating all I think of is foot domination, sniffing on dirty shoes and socks. Is it just me or does anyone else have the same obsession as me ?

Good morning fellow Redditers! I am here to get out the truth about the history of humanity however I can and social media is the best for that these days. Can you imagine what life must have been like back in the time of Christ? There was no indoor plumbing... electric...no cars, buses...trains or planes. No Walmart, Grocery Stores etc. They had to walk everywhere. So it was a huge sign of respect to wash someone's feet. I know it's a thing today. Some have foot fetishes, while the others can't stand feet

I am not the OOP. The OOP is u/Throwra_JessComeOn posting in AITAH
Concluded as per OOP
2 updates - Long
Original - 17th April 2024
Update1 - 19th April 2024
Update2 - 13th May 2024
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AITAH For breaking my Number 1 sex rule with a handicapped guy?
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Obviously throwaway, I don’t need anyone here seeing my regular account. Also I’m in the US and English is my first language, any discrepancies are because I suck at typing on my phone.
So TL/DR for the “give me the bare bones, I don’t have all day to read on the shitter” crew: My #1 sex rule since high school has been no sex before the third date. I recently broke that rule with a handicapped guy, and now my childhood best friend is pissed and grossed out because she thinks I have some weird kind of fetish.
Context/full story: I’m a 28f. My childhood best friend we’ll call Jess is also 28f. To put it simply, I don’t think I’m any kind of prude, I just don’t really feel comfortable with casual sex, never have. My best friend knows this and has teased me about it lightly in the past. She’s been in a long term relationship for the last 3 years, I’ve mostly been single while working on my degree and starting my career. Jess lives in another state with her boyfriend, so we don’t hang out much anymore.
So about a month ago I had a first date with a guy I’d been talking to for a bit, thought it was going places, but he gave a WEIRD vibe on the date and I cut and ran early. On my way home I stopped at a local pub, figured I’d have a drink to unwind and people watch till it wore off. (Tipsy driving is still drunk driving IMO.) I get there and it’s pretty packed, Friday night and all, and there was no seating room at the bar. Took my drink and looked around, most of the “restaurant” side of the pub was someone’s birthday party, but there was a small table with a seat open off to the side, with a guy reading a book there. So I say eff it, I’m a social person and what’s the worst thing that happens, he says no? So I ask if I can sit there for a bit, I promise we don’t have to talk or anything.
At this point I feel like I’ve fucked up because this guy up close is the hottest man I have ever seen. But he just smiled at me and gave an enthusiastic “Sure!” A few minutes later of me sipping in silence and he says “I don’t mind talking, if you want to.” (Yeah I want to are you kidding me right now?) We talk for a bit and it turns out Mike (fake name) is 29, just finished his master’s degree in some kind of computer learning field (“I program computers to program computers”) and he’s living on his own for the first time. He apparently stops by the pub after work because he’s right around the corner, and he’s not used to the silence yet after living so long with a half dozen siblings.
We talked for a good two hours, about everything from dating (which he said he’s basically given up on) to hobbies and tastes, and we have a near total eclipse of a venn diagram on this stuff. I eventually sort of blurted out that I don’t know why he’d give up on dating, this is the closest thing I’ve had to a good date in forever. (Shooting my shot obliquely here lol.) He gets kind of an odd look on his face and says “Tell you what, I have to go to the bathroom, but when I come back I’ll ask you out for real.” Weird, but okay?
Then it all clicks, because he doesn’t get up to walk away, he just rolls. In his wheelchair. And I’m thinking “oh my God he wanted to give me a chance to back out of this without making it awkward how cute can this guy BE.” He grinned like crazy when he got back and saw I was still there, and I basically tripped over myself saying something to the effect of “So I’m free all weekend, what did you have in mind?”
Another hour later, we’ve got plans for Saturday, and he told me he has a neuromuscular disorder I can’t remember the name of (my degree isn’t in STEM lol) so his legs work, but the signals from his brain get misinterpreted so he doesn’t have the balance or coordination for walking or standing. The pub starts switching over to the youngerowdier crowd and he asks if I’d like to go back to his place for coffee to continue our conversation.
As you have probably long since realized, I did not get any coffee or conversation till the next morning and I have ZERO regrets. We’ve been dating since and I know it’s still early but I really feel like this might be the one.
Onward to yesterday afternoon, my friend Jess (remember Jess?) is in town, and we go out for coffee to catch up on things. I’m gushing about Mike, but when I get to how we met she just sort of got weird and edgy. I don’t remember any exact words but she essentially said that I must have a fetish for the handicapped since I broke my #1 rule and it’s the best physical relationship I’ve ever been in. Like it’s good for me because he uses a wheelchair, not because the guy puts in effort in bed??? She said I’ve “changed” as a person and left without even saying goodbye. 15 years of friendship and I’ve never seen her like that.
So here I am, asking the most objective people online (haha) if I’m an asshole or weird for being super attracted to a guy who uses a wheelchair and basically putting out immediately.
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Comments
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RefrigeratorHot3859
Firstly, you are allowed to change the rules that you made for yourself. Secondly, I do not get from anything you wrote that you have a “fetish” for the handicapped. Her comments are weird.
Sounds like you need to keep Mike and drop Jess. Good friends will be happy for you, and from what I can gather, that ain’t her.
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dubh_righ
She's got a weird fetish - for super hot guys who are kind, and well spoken, and fuck like a hero. What a weirdo. (sarcasm, in case it's not obvious)

OOP: Okay, yeah this made me laugh for real. Seriously, what a weeeeird fetish I have!

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brelywi
Hey that’s my fetish too! Here I was thinking I was the only one.
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ShottsSeastone
oh fuck that friend. i read this whole thing.

• you have 0 fetish.
• the guy is hot
• the guy is intelligent
• the guy lives on his own
• the guy has his shit together
• THE MAN GAVE YOU THE DOOR TO LEAVE
• Love comes in all shapes and sizes.

OOP: That shit floored me. He's so considerate in so many ways. His stories about his sibs are also hilarious, I can't wait to meet them. We're trying not to rush things just because it all seems so great, but they have a BBQ in May that he'd like me to come to and I am so there. He was raised around a lot of love and it shows.

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Update - 2 days later
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My first ever update! Yay! Uh, so if you were hoping for some terrible drama, I hate to break it to you that I don’t roll like that. No pun intended. So I do have an update on Jess and shit finally makes perfect sense. And I have a slightly NSFW but funny story about Mike, because this guy is just the best, y’all.
Okay, so first, I finally messaged Jess yesterday and said basically “I’m still hurt by what you said, but after 15 years of friendship I’d never forgive musif I didn’t at least ask why you snapped at me like that.” She replied immediately, “I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t mean any of that, can we have a do over on lunch?” So I agreed cautiously and took a half day to meet with her today.
Turns out that those of you who said she was jealous, and that she might have something else going on, and especially the person who said something might be going on in HER relationship….. gold stars. She’s in town because she’s job hunting, because she’s moving back in with her parents for a while since her relationship ended. Apparently they have been having a ton of small problems adding up, but the biggest one? Sex. The guy she’s been with was apparently never great but it’s gotten to the point where he makes no effort at all for her to enjoy herself and then gets pissed when she isn’t in the mood.
She tried talking with him about it, making suggestions but he told her recently that it’s “emasculating” being given sex advice by a woman. The straw that broke the metaphorical camel’s back, however, was that her boyfriend has always had a thing for Asian women. She’s caucasian, but she does have long black hair. After weeks of fighting over their sex life, he suggested that they spice things up….by her dressing in a kimono and pretending to be Asian. She lost it on him and is absolutely disgusted by the racist fetishism and ended it right then.
So she had allllll of this bottled up and was hoping to talk to me and finally be able to put it down….. and I missed every hint that she had something big to discuss because I was gushing about Mike. So to her it felt like I was just twisting the knife by bragging about how great our sex was. She snapped, and somewhere between what I was saying and what she wanted to talk about some wires got crossed and she said something incredibly dumb.
She left without saying goodbye because she was mortified and ashamed as well as irrationally mad at me. Something to know about Jess, she’s an awful liar and she and I were the co-founders of our high school’s “foot-in-mouth” society, so I do believe her. I told her I forgive her and I’m sorry I didn’t realize she wanted to talk about something bothering her, and she said I was too stupidly nice and have nothing to apologize for, so I think we’ll be okay. For the time being I’m not ready for her and Mike to meet, because I don’t want to make things feel worse, and she agrees. But she’s really really happy for me. Hopefully this is just a funny story we can look back on someday.
So, on to how Mike almost killed me, lol. Last night we were talking about the reddit post and he gets this funny expression that I’m starting to recognize. And he goes “How do we know you don’t have a fetish if we haven’t at least tried it in the chair?” And I’m like “are you serious lol”. He said he’s never attempted it, because (cue tears) he’s never felt so comfortable with a partner before. Well.
His chair has what is essentially like a parking break thing. Or it should, it’s unfortunately broken and apparently getting them fixed is an expensive pain in the ass. He doesn’t use it that often so he hasn’t made it a priority. And there’s this thing called Newton’s third law, you know how every action has an equal and opposite reaction? As it happens, when you’re trying to, ah, get the motion of the ocean going, in a chair with wheels that aren’t locked, there’s a sort of counter motion that starts and fucks it all up. So we were going nowhere fast except for inching along the floor in his bedroom. And laughing at the silliness, which isn’t helping. Eventually he just stops and says “Maybe we can get some of those wooden block things they use to keep little planes from rolling away, like in Indiana Jones you know?”
I absolutely lost it. Like laughing so hard I’m in tears, he’s giggling half at the situation and half at my reaction, and everything just keeps setting me off again. FINALLY I get it under control, doing some deep breathing exercises and shit, and I look at him again. And he pulls the straightest face he can, and says, for the love of god, “Golly. This sure is uncomfortable.” Folks if I had asthma I would have fucking died right there. I laughed so hard I think I pulled a rib. Like wheezing and not even laughing anymore so much as weeping and making this awful “heeeeee” noise when I could catch my breath. While he’s laughing and rubbing my back and saying he’s sorry, he couldn’t resist.
So yeah, confirmed, no fetish here, and this magnificent bastard’s comedic timing might actually kill me.
I doubt I’ll update again, because there’s really nothing I can see needing to share given everything sort of worked out. And in the end, the real assholes were the….friends we made along the way? Idk. Thanks for all the lovely comments on my last post and for coming along with me on this absurd but brief drama in my life, lol.
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Comments
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Rustymarble
Obviously, Jess needs to have a twin with a mother-in-law invade her home with ummm....dog poo...and somehow there's a tree dropping leaves and and a 7 year old brat threw an ummm...apple? And then the cops came and everyone clapps!

OOP: And everyone's phones blow up! Genius, I'll finally go viral and get all those internet dollars I assume people are raking in, LOL
I probably will post an update on this account, but I don't necessarily want to bog down AITAH with my silly shit. I'm so excited and nervous. It's apparently a Mother's Day BBQ! which I didn't know because my parents and I are estranged and I never even seriously thought about having kids before meeting Mike. But apparently it's a lot of people and a lot of food and apparently everyone knows he's bringing me. Also, can I just say FUCK YES about his mom? They apparently have a huge one floor rancher and she just assumed we'd be sleeping together in his old room. Like none of that weird "you aren't married so you get separate rooms" shit. I already adore them and we haven't even met yet.

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Forward-Two3846
I think Mike updates are essential to AITAH 😆. I am so excited for you and I hope you have the time of your life.

OOP: Oh there is one coming. Oh my God his family, lol. I am exhausted already and it's only 1 here, and we have another day of this ahead! They are amazing and he is glowing like a fireball, the side of him when he's with family is so bright I need sunglasses to look at him.

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Update - 1 month later
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Hello again! I was going to post this on my own page but a few people mentioned that they think it’s nice to read on AITAH, so fuck it, here’s the “met Mikes family” update. And it's a doozy, or at least felt like it at the time for a girl who grew up with a small, dysfunctional family.
So first up, you know what people (at least me) don’t think about when dating a guy who’s always sitting? Height. I know he’s taller than me because we cuddle a lot, and he’s taller sitting on the couch, but I didn’t reeeeeeally get it. So we drive up Friday night after work (actually south and west, lol, but to my brain it’s always up) in his vehicle, which is modified to be driven entirely using his hands. Neat, right? He’s a really good driver too. One more green flag. We get to the house, and it’s…. It’s huge you guys, LOL like not a mansion, just kind of a sprawling one floor rancher. Real estate was wild back in the day.
Anyway we get out, and I meet his mom. I’d like to point out I am no slouch, I’m 5’-friggin-7. His mom is TOWERING over me. But she was the nicest lady ever. We go inside and I meet his dad (who funny enough is apparently the only short one in this family) and his youngest sister, who is living there with his one year old niece. She gets up to hug me and SHE IS ALSO REALLY TALL. It’s already a bit late then, so we eat and head to bed, I get to see his cute as shit room from when he was a teenager, and I casually ask “hey, so uh, I don’t know how this works and stuff, but how tall are you?” and Mike is all “I dunno, like a bit over 6’4? Been a while since I checked.” A BIT OVER 6’4. “So, is everyone in your family tall?” “…..kinda?”
We met the Nordic Basketball team he calls a family properly the next day. (Actually they’re Irish, but they’re blond and tall so it conveys the idea better.) The ONLY one of reasonable height, and still taller than me, was his oldest sister, lol.
They are also LOUD. Like not really shouting or anything usually, just, PRESENT. Mike is a lot different around them, but in the cutest way, like he just beams all the time and you can see how happy he is to be home. One of his brothers put him in a headlock and gave him a dang NOOGIE as a greeting, and got elbowed in the side for it, and all of them laughing. And his mom smacked one of his brothers with a rolled up magazine for putting his feet on the table. More laughing. Just… intimidating but in the happiest way imaginable. I’ll admit I was a little shut down for a bit, but Mike kept checking in with me to make sure I was okay, and they were all really nice, so I got into the spirit after a bit.
I mentioned this in another comment, but Mike has a special sports wheelchair he uses for, well, sports. And he and his siblings play basketball. And he is GOOD. Apart from just having a hell of an arm, he’s quick as hell. And this magnificent bastard that I love will absolutely, purposefully, GLEEFULLY run someone’s toes over. He AIMS for it. They all have this yank-back-the-foot maneuver that’s hysterical to watch.
So it was this crazy day of loud people playing and having a blast, nieces and nephews running around, and just noise. My ears are still ringing. The food was catered in advance because his mom “had seven babies, all I make on mother’s day is margaritas.” They also have a pool, it’s a bit chilly still but the pool is HEATED so we actually all got to swim, which was a lot of fun because I got to show off that I too am athletic…. I can do a backwards somersault off a diving board! Yeah. I’m a real catch lol. They at least pretended to be impressed.
We all stayed up late drinking and bitching that it was too overcast to see the aurora (boo) and I had the worst hangover I’ve had in a while on Sunday. We slept in a bit late, and then joined Mike’s family for the BBQ part of the BBQ weekend. His dad can GRILL, people. And he’s fast, food coming off the grill at lightning speed. I asked Mike about it and he laughed and said “there was seven of us to feed. Ever see a nest of baby birds? He had practice.” Which, fair enough.
I don’t have much experience with babies, but I got to hold his youngest niece (the one living at home with his sis until her husband gets back from deployment) and we had a light talk about kids in the future. I told him that I never put much thought into it but if they were going to grow up in a happy home like his and not how I grew up, I’m pretty sure I’d be open to having them with him someday. But later. I need him all to myself for a while first. He seemed really really happy about that, which makes ME feel all goofy and happy. I’m sappy.
We had to drive home Sunday night, but before we went his mom hugged me and said she’s NEVER seen her son like this, and thanked me for taking good care of her baby. And asked if we’d be back for the 4th of July or if we were doing something with my family. And I tried to be all “haaaa no we’ll be here if you don’t mind, I don’t see them much” and I think she caught on that there’s more to the story so she just hugged the shit out of me (vikings, all of them I swear) and told me she can’t wait to see me again.
My ears are still ringing from all the noise and chaos, but it was an absolute blast and I can’t wait to see them again in July. Also, pretty much sure Mike is the man I’m going to marry. I literally can’t think of a single reason why I would ever let him get away.
Anyway thanks for reading, hope you all had a lovely weekend, and those of you who got to see the aurora I’m happy for you but you suck, lol.
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Comments
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ERVetSurgeon
NTA. sounds like you have found a happy family to join. Good for you and good for Mike.

OOP: It's still pretty surreal. The other in laws that were there were all like that smiling hanging guy meme, "First time?" It was a great weekend.

Stormy8888
This story is so heart warming it belongs on BestofRedditorUpdates.
Congratulations, at some parts I felt like I was reading about the Roarke Family's dynamics in one of Nora Robert's JD Robb's Eve Dallas Novels, the whole Irish family vibes were just there. So lovely.

OOP: Ahahaha I don't think it's interesting enough for that, but I am glad people are enjoying it.

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I am not the OOP. Please do not harass the OOP. Please remember the No Brigading Rule and to be civil in the comments

I see a lot of posts of lonely ppl who want friends. As someone who has consciously taught myself social skills, now makes friends easily, and has maintained deep bonds over decades, I feel qualified to share what I’ve learned. I’ll warn you, tough love and even tougher truths are part of this. If you find yourself arguing, but don’t have friends yourself, ask yourself where that resistance comes from. Don’t direct it at me; take some time to journal and sit with it. This is part of the journey.
I have a lot of info so I’m breaking this into parts. I’m naturally pedantic and have a lot to share. I will do my best to keep it as concentrated as possible but be warned: this will be wordy with no TLDR.
The first part of making friends starts with your physical self. Humans are primarily visual creatures(all genders) and how we present ourselves is the first invitation or hurdle to interacting with ppl.

1. Hygiene: daily showering is a non-negotiable. You can rot on your own time in your own house. If you are going to be a part of society you need to wrangle your body smells so that ppl aren’t offended by your very presence. This is the first tough truth: no one wants to be friends with a smelly person. Use soap and a washcloth, stay away from those plastic nightmare loofahs. Wash every nook, cranny, divet, and crevices. Wash your booty hole and genitals. Change your washcloth daily (wash a$$ last) or use a separate one for your butt. Wash your sheets, pillowcases, towels, robes, and floor mat once a week. Wear deodorant (no, body sprays aren’t deodorant) daily. Some of us are extra stinky due to “stress sweat” aka apocrine glands and this is a common physical side effect of an overtaxed nervous system. Extra stinky ppl need to touch up their armpits with a disinfectant wipe and reapplication of deodorant; lunch time is great for this. Brush your teeth upon waking, after drinking coffee, and after eating. No, gum and mouthwash are only temporary, they aren’t good enough. You still have bad breath. Drinking coffee wo brushing in the morning leads to that extra stinky breath that smells like death. Don’t be that person. Floss once a day. When washing hair, use shampoo and focus on the scalp more than the hair. If you can’t feel the lather on every centimeter, add more to those spots or you will still stink. Most ppl need to wash it twice if they don’t shampoo everyday. Shorter hair, thinning hair, and fine hair need to be washed more often, sometimes daily. We can smell your scalp from far away. Keep your nails trimmed or neatly filed. I’ve had to school multiple men in my life on how raggedy their nails are. Don’t just grow them out until they break off. Keep them short unless you have the time and desire to file and shape them at least once a week. Wash your hands every time you use the bathroom. I don’t care if you didn’t touch yourself, that’s not the point. Ppl notice. Also wash your hands when you’re alone and at home, seriously it’s not that hard. How are you going to want friendship if you don’t value them enough to keep them safe and sanitary? Trim your toenails and stay abreast of how your feet smell. If you have smelly feet you probably have athletes foot. Sprays are an easy way to treat this. If you still have stinky feet after this, keep a change of socks with you so if you go to a no shoes house, you aren’t making ppl sick. Wash inner clothes like shirts and underwear after every wear. Sweat shirts and jeans can often be worn a few times before needing to be washed but smell the armpits and ass, and check for stains before you put them on.

Don’t proceed further until you can adhere to these standards at least when you’re in public. If you’re in a depression and can’t maintain these, stay at home until you can. If you don’t have the energy to bathe and be clean, you don’t have the energy for friends.

1. Grooming. This about looking neat and together. Humans are visual creatures, we judge others based on their looks. I’m not talking skinny/fat, ugly/pretty. I mean that if you look like your life is rough, ppl aren’t going to want to get involved with that. We have our own issues and struggles, we don’t want to add someone to our lives that looks like they are on the brink of a meltdown. Brush your hair and teeth before you leave the house. This is my bare minimum. Curly hair is different but my wavy hair needs to be brushed the same as straight. Combing is also acceptable. Keep an eye on your dandruff. If you have it, treat it. There are many otc options. At the very least shake it out and don’t wear dark colors until it’s fixed. Make sure you don’t have eye crusties, mouth corner goop, or boogers. If you’re showering these are usually not an issue but check for these a few times a day. I don’t iron my clothes but many ppl associate wrinkles with poor grooming. Consider getting a handheld steamer. I personally fold my clothes kon-marie style or hang them and that’s good enough for me. Keep your shoes clean. Lots of people are taught to judge other by the state of their shoes. Notice how many ppl look at your shoes the first time you meet. Wash the white laces regularly, polish and condition leather. Patent shoes are super hard to keep scuff free so avoid them if you are prone to scuffs or dragging your feet. My shoes come untied so I double knot my laces to avoid looking sloppy. Replace buttons and ask a dry cleaner to repair any holes or tears. Relegate worn out and stained clothes to lounge wear.
   
2. Posture. Your posture says so much about you. A relaxed and tall posture says you’re confident and easy going. The type of person we all want to be friends with. Forward head means life has beaten you down. Rounded shoulders says you’ve been hurt but haven’t healed. Collapsed chest says you’ve given up. Lordosis means your core body and core self are weak. Stand with your feet an inch or two from the wall and stand naturally. Your head and most of your spine should touch. If it doesn’t you have work to do. You can’t just force yourself to stand up straight. Your muscles have stretched and atrophied to accommodate this unnatural stance, you will need to rehab your body over weeks and months to regain proper function. Research and watch videos on strengthening postural muscles. My fave that’s easy to explain: when you’re at the wall checking your posture, bend your knees slowly until you can press your spine and back of head into the wall. Stay there for a moment and feel it. That’s the proper position of your pelvis; posture comes from pelvic position not our chest, shoulders, or back. Now clench your ab muscles, they might be weak or non existent. These are the muscles that need to be strengthened. Hold those muscles tight and try to straighten your knees while maintaining that pelvic position. Breathe and hold for 30 seconds. If you can’t do 30 start with 10. Do this every time you go to the bathroom, not necessarily in the bathroom but by tying it to an inevitable part of your day you have a better chance of being consistent.
   
3. Body language. Like posture, we communicate much more than we realize with our bodies. How we walk, sit, fidget, etc telegraphs nonverbal messages to those around us. Many ppl are very dissociated with their daily movements. Take some time to notice how you walk. Do you drag your feet? How would someone describe your walk? Do you schlep, shuffle, scurry? Or do you glide, prance, or stalk? I love to drag my feet and do this at home in my slippers. But in public I am more conscious of how I walk. This is much harder for me to explain. My main tip is to watch out for small, jerky, fast movments, like fidgeting and scurrying. These are prey movements and relegate us to an undesirable social standing: prey. Think of how a mouse moves: small, jerky quick movements. Now think of a panther. Every movement is intentional and controlled, smooth, slow. Go on walks if you are able bodied and start to notice how you move. Notice how those around you move. Which ones seem confident to you and which ones are off putting. Same with sitting. Do your best to sit up straight rather than completely melting into the chair. Don’t “throw” yourself onto someone’s furniture, use your legs to lower yourself down. When listening do your best to keep movements to a minimum. Breathing slowly and deep helps with this. I use my hands to talk when I’m excited and don’t see this as a problem.
   
4. Eye contact. Eye contact is very important but it also varies by culture. This will be regarding western/American culture. Eye contact used to be difficult for me. I now have an engaged and sometimes intense gaze. It’s more important to maintain eye contact when listening, not as important when talking. You don’t have to laser focus, break your gaze regularly to take in the other person’s movements and body language, look briefly at other parts of their face, lower your gaze, glance at the room. But don’t stray for too long, wandering gaze makes ppl feel like you aren’t listening and ppl don’t want to engage with bad listeners. Don’t look at breasts or genitals. Once you’re comfortable with someone you can look away much more or sometimes even look at other things while you listen. But in the beginning you are building trust.
   

Extra credit: cultivate your personal style. This is optional but supremely helpful. A pleasing physical appearance can garner compliments which is a great way to start conversations. It can also connect us with like minded individuals or show our place in a culture or subculture. Hair is one of the best ways to customize your appearance: cut, color, and style are all options. If you choose long hair, make sure you understand that long hair is a hobby; it takes tons of time and effort to maintain. Not to mention the research and trial and error to find products. Especially men who want long hair, make sure you are up for keeping it clean and neat. You will need to still keep it trimmed, learn to part your hair, learn to tie it back neatly, keep it from looking greasy, etc. if it’s thinning, it’s more flattering to keep it short. if you have curls you will need to learn different techniques that take even more time and effort. Same with vivid colors: they take so much time and money to maintain. Go for it if you have taken time to understand the upkeep.
For clothing, any style works. If you have zero idea how to build a wardrobe choose one dark neutral (black, charcoal grey, navy, or chocolate brown), choose one light neutral (white, ivory, light grey, beige), and one medium neutral (olive green, khaki, camel, mid grey, rust, beige). Only choose one of each and preferably ones that look nice on you. From now on only buy clothes in these shades. Focus on getting your basic covered before you choose colors: tshirts, sweaters, sweatshirts jeans, slacks, jacket, coat. There are so many options and it’s a great opportunity to get to know yourself. Do you like graphic Ts or plain? V neck or crew? Do you like sweatshirts that zip? Do you like hoods? For sweaters: turtlenecks, cardigans, pullovers, or quarter zips? Wool coats or puffers? Leather or denim jackets? Enjoy each detail you learn about yourself. Once your basics are covered, choose two colors. Then try to only get stuff in those colors. My pallet when I was blonde was: black, ivory, and beige with red or blush pink. Now that I’m my natural color it’s: navy, grey, ivory with sky blue or forest green. By putting limiting your colors, everything matches and you always look put together. Accessories are where your personality can really shine: loud sneakers, big belt buckles, unique watches, rings, necklaces, hats or caps, scarves, bags. There are so many ways to express yourself. Keep your accessories to your chosen colors at first. Once you have figured out your style and built up a wardrobe that works, you can add more colors and pizazz.

I really can't look back at these fondly again. Whenever I do, I think about Dan, Brian and all those disgusting creeps! I think that sucks as I grew up with these shows. I had fond memories watching Drake and Josh. Knowing what these worthless denigrates did to those actors and writers. It legit hurts. Especially when these assholes shove in feet and all of their disgusting fetishes. Hell despite being framed as cometic. I never found them funny. I found them weird. Now looking back as an adult. I find them sick! Sick and disgusting! I especially hate all the times these young actors are sexualized. If there's one thing I absolutely have a hatred towards. It's people getting damaged like that. Ngl, I'm kinda happy these shows are off the air. Even if I liked them as a kid. Even if I had fondness and it reminded me about the good times in my life. Now. I don't get these feeling of nostalgia. Instead I just think about how much pain these people are! If things were done better I would look back fondly but no! Dan and his douche bag friends are involved and ruined it for not just the writers and actors but all the people who grew up on these shows. I hate to sound cliche but Dan, you ruined a bit of my childhood! I can never watch Drake and Josh and iCarly ever again without thinking about the disturbing crap you did! I hate you! Seriously! Nobody wins! The actors, the writers and less talked about. The people who had fond memories about these shows. These can mean so much for people only to be ruined with your feet and kid obsession! The impact of people who grew up with these shows isn't as talked about. While it's not as bad as the actors and writers. Growing up with these shows only to finally see the hell! It's just as painful! I wish Dan and his pedo friends gets arrested for a long time and to never work with kids ever again! Nickelodeon. Shame on you for letting these creeps in. May the actors and writers live better lives and live a better tomorrow.

Hello everyone and happy Friday (barely made it)!
Last week we got the tag off of two games! We also got the tag high enough on two games on the add tag list! Well done, guys! This week there are three new games that need the tag flagged, and no new games that need it added.
Please flag the tag on any/all of the games on the first two lists if you haven't already, and please add the tag to the games on the last list.
Thanks guys, and have a great week!
Newly found games that need the tag flagged:
Hentai Party on Rooftop (NSFW)
Feet Paradise (NSFW)
Core Awaken Rurumu's will
Previously posted games that still need the tag flagged:
メンヘラオタ姫サークル - Needy Princess Nerd Club -
Deep Secret (NSFW)
Marionette Eden Breakers
地狱矿工 Hell Miner (NSFW)
Combat Kart
Railway Fugitive
Apex Heroines
ADEN
Life Makeover
Girl X Island (NSFW)
Black silk girl (NSFW)
Yuuna and the Haunted Hot Springs The Thrilling Steamy Maze Kiwami
Costume Fighter (NSFW)
Puzzle GO!
Sakura Segment 1.0 (NSFW)
MAOUISHO:~ La Dolce Vita with Another World's Demon Lord~ (NSFW)
我说什么她们都答应（OKeverything）
The Meridian Under the Heaven: Valhalla (NSFW)
战姬军团
Cyber Horny (NSFW)
Sakura Hime 4 (NSFW)
TryAndLove
Living with temptation: American sunset (NSFW)
GuanLan Magic
姬你太美 KunKunBeauty
Summon My Girl (NSFW)
Dizital ImageClub - Neo - (NSFW)
Dreamy Duels ~ Tales of Heroes in Gensoukyo
與妹有約 Promise with My Sister
Where Cats 喵星寻猫
灵梦的激急击鸡祭 Reimu's Fighting Chicken Festival
Cyber Volley
My succubus Kukula
Run for the Bus
灵梦的激急击鸡祭 Reimu's Fighting Chicken Festival
Together with Oneesan～Yuina's Sweet Encouragement～ (NSFW)
Find Cats 喵星寻猫
Fetish Club (NSFW)
Lower? Higher!
Beauty Jigsaw (NSFW)
FightGirl
Myth Matrix
Box Bakery
ADD THE TAG:
A Heart of Butterblue
Andromeda Six
Bright Oak

okay so this is my first post on reddit i normally just read posts & ngl i can’t be bothered with grammar rn, sorry lol. but anyways, yall beware because these men online are sick 🤢 so i [32/F] met this guy on a dating app. he seemed cool and asked for my instagram to which we started talking more on over there. again he seemed really chill and honestly was saying the right things like “im looking for a serious relationship w/ the right person, authenticity…” bla bla bla a whole bunch of the right stuff okay lmao i had to google it to see if he got it from somewhere cuz it sounded too good to be true and it was!
so this guy said he’s a personal trainer at a gym near by (lie) and said he needs help with an assignment for his reflexology class. he asked me to send him pics of my feet, and o didn’t think anything of it because on his instagram he really is into the fitness lifestyle so i believed it was for his course lmao. but then he asked for another foot pic and started asking for weird positions for my foot to be in like have my face in the shot too to which i said “how does my face being in the pic help your assignment ?” when i started applying pressure he said it’s okay if you don’t want to help and then went on to delete all his messages about asking for my feet and the other stuff he said and then went on to block me lmaooo. not only did he block my personal page but he went out of his way to block both my business pages which tbhh, i didn’t even know he knew 😂😂 i called him out for being weird asking for so many feet pics in weird settings. he even sent a photo of a girl who sent him feet pics saying he got it from google but in the screen shot his big ol head was right there.
anyways i guess i just wanted to share my experience because wow it was super weird i’ve never encountered the foot fetish community and im not kink shaming but it was very creepy lying about things just for some feet pics 😂😂😂
fin.

Do clothes bug you? It may be the material
Polyesters: acrylic/rayon: store oils and can foster bacteria growth. May make you feel muggy or smelly more easily
Cottons: tend to be more breathable and are usually a good standard for what constitutes a comfortable material
Lyocell: you may see bamboo Lyocell advertised as “antibacterial”, but that is sadly only true for mechanically separated bamboo fiber. Lyocell is chemically processed and is more similar to polyester. It’s still better than polyester in terms of breathability and oils, but it is definitely hyped up.
Hemp: tends to be stiffer and wrinkles more easily than cotton, but is also very breathable overall. Better for casual clothing
Wool: wool can be itchy, but there are better wools available now. Merino wool and alpaca wool are my personal favorites for clothing items. They are breathable and while they do hold oils, they are easily washable and comfortable to use. They are usually best for colder environments and sadly don’t work as well in warmer areas
Other ways to improve comfort:
Wipe with alcohol: wipe smelly areas with alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. Armpits and feet are the best for this. Do not wipe crotch areas, this hurts like no one’s business
Anti-fungal powder: find a nice anti-fungal powder. You can use it comfortably for crotch areas, armpits, and feet.
Undershirt: undershirts are a good way to wear otherwise uncomfortable clothing. Use a thin, breathable material
Edit to add: Also consider the size and cut. If the shoulders are too small, it may look great, but if it clinches your shoulders you will rarely want to wear it. If one of the seams is just wrong and grazes your neck and irritates it, you’ll also never wear it.
Consider: finding a skilled tailor locally who can make clothes for you, or tailor clothes so that they fit comfortably on you.
Alternately: use this as a great excuse to get a sewing machine and learn to tailor your clothes

Was re-reading her arc and yeah it was just a thought that went through my head, how bad do y'all reckon they smell