My Secret Fetish: Those Gummy Sharks With The Soft, White Bellies

May 27, 2019 by , featured in Lifestyle
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I haven’t had sex in exactly 95 days, and I’m at the end of my wits. She left, and I don’t know what to do. The safest thing, since having a girlfriend is a no-go right now, is probably to fetishize something. Something I can control. I’ve decided, and I declare that I am going to start fetishizing those gummy sharks with the soft, white bellies.

I was walking for my nightly candy when I had a craving for gummy sharks and their chewy white tummies. They’re great for sucking on, then biting down and separating the shark in half lengthwise, just like she did my heart and loins. I like to suck on their tummies until they get real wet, to the point where their tummies come clean off of their owners.

But alas, the liquor store across the street didn’t have these beautiful, clean morsels of enlightening, intense, arousing, gummy shark fetish pleasure. I looked with the other Island Snacks and could not find the sharks everywhere. Almost every other kind of gummy — bears, sour bears, worms — but not what I wanted. Well, I will not give up.

The liquor store across the street from that one usually has a wide variety of gummies, so I tried there. They had everything — Fun Bugs, chewy Jolly Ranchers, and even some Haribo Starmix — but I was on a mission. I would satisfy my gummy shark fetish. I would have the candy that I now felt kind of drawn to because they’re just like her: always there except when you need them.

fetish

So I had to walk to the 7-Eleven, which is much farther, but I knew I could find them there. Tragically, much like her, these gummy sharks couldn’t even be in the place where they usually are for me to find. We’re supposed to be a team. They were gone in a flash and became instant ghosts in my life, leaving me with an unsatisfactory, ghastly, and repugnant existence. Where did they go? I swear I see them every day.

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Of course, there was a seemingly infinite variety of other gummies, some close to sharks. Swedish Fish. Watermelon rings. Ugh. Watermelon rings. They’re all gummy and no shark.  Is this what I’ve come to? Is this what my life is supposed to look like? What are my standards, and why am I considering this?

No. No, I can’t. I must find those flirty, fickle little sharks, and I’ll settle for nothing less. I turn the corner of the store’s shelves and see they have something with a white tummy, but alas, they are gummy dinosaurs, gummy alligators, and … gummy race cars? What kind of world is this?

I turn another corner, one last-ditch Hail Mary of love, and there, I find them. I’ve finally found them. God knows what I would do for them, but I know what I’ll do to them. I’m going to make them mine. I’m going to soil them, and I’m going to use them in ways they’ve never been used. Their fins are going to be bitten off altogether so that they can’t escape my love. My wrath.

gummy shark fetish

They are the only joy I will know, and that will be my life.


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