I’m Just A Boy Who Loves His Blob (Yes, Sexually)
I’m a typical guy, but I don’t play into society’s narrow and homogenous standards when it comes to who and how I should love—especially when it comes to my pet blob. That’s right. I love my blob and his amorphous, magically-changing body. And anyone who doesn’t appreciate that can stay out of my life. I’m just a boy and his blob, and I’m living my truth.
For me, there’s nothing better than my blob. I’m all about his undefined midsection, the large chunks of flesh where I believe his bottom to be, and those cute little rolls on what I’m reasonably certain are his sides. Sure, he won’t be featured on the cover of Nintendo Power, but he’s the feature in both my life and my heart. Plus, this gorgeous blob I befriended, adopted, and accompanied on a jelly bean-fueled quest can turn into a balloon, ladder, or trampoline, which is honestly just pretty dope.
Basically, I don’t care if society tells me this isn’t “right,” or “logical,” or even “physically possible in a purely sexual way.” I’m just a boy who loves his blob, and my blob loves me back (or so I think. The blob can’t actually speak of course. But it definitely has a mouth hole—I do know that). Regardless, I know how I feel, and I’m confident my blob feels the same … again … if it even has feelings, which I also can’t be 100% sure of. Does anyone know about the emotional profile of Blobolonians? Are they like … Vulcans? Or maybe something else? Again, I digress.
So guys, I implore you to rethink what society has told you is “normal.” My blob is beautiful, from his rounded “feet” area all the way up to the part that must be his eyes.
And blobs, don’t ever fool yourself into thinking you have to fit a certain mold (or take on any specific shape for any length of time). Because there’s a boy out there who’s going to celebrate you for exactly who you are. Someone who will love you like I love my Blobert. My slimy, silent, slithering Blobert.