A COLLECTION OF THE SEXIEST, MOST FETISHISTIC FILMS AND TELEVISION SHOWS
You all know what you like and what you don’t. For instance, I don’t like anything touching in and around my butthole. You might be into poopy-girls, and talking ‘bout yall’s booty juices. That’s what America is all about. I guess what I’m trying to say is that whatever you’re into, you should embrace that. Sexiness is in the eye of the butt-holder. I am going to embrace my aversion to butt-touches by making sure nothing ever enters my butt forever. If you’re in to butt-touches and other sexy things, this page might be for you. Lucky for you, sitting right in front of you are some real steamy, fetishistic reviews! Warning: Make sure to cover your boners and lady-boners while you read this.
AMERICAN HORROR STORY (WHOLE SEASON SPOILER ALERT!)
By Molly Shannon
American Horror Story is definitely one of the freakiest, most fetish-filled shows that is currently on television. The first season took place in a very old and mysterious house, in which the people that lived there would eventually be murdered in some gruesome way, and their spirits would haunt the next clueless residents. Among the ghostly dwellers was a halfblind, repulsive looking housekeeper, who happened to appear as a hot young red-head, only to the father in the current family living there. She wore a frilly little French maid out!t and constantly tried to seduce him with her eerie charm. Besides this, one of the most prominent fetishes in the first season was a black rubber head-totoe bodysuit, the kind you would probably come across in some kind of hardcore S&M sex shop. The suit was donned by a weird teen boy (a ghost) and a gay couple (also ghosts). Despite this pair of weird fetishes, season two gets even freakier. The second season takes place in Briarcliff Manor, a mental asylum in the 1960s, and contains an array of unique characters. The hospital is run by the stern Sister Jude, a strict nun who rules the roost with a !rm hand by day, and by night she dances around the room in the red negligee she always wears under her habit, dreaming of romancing the hospital monsignor. One of the nuns that assists her, Sister Mary Eunice, is a sweet and innocent one, and is fantasized about by one of the mad scientist-doctors at the institution who is obsessed with her and her purity, until one incident in which she becomes possessed by the devil and begins terrorizing the whole hospital. Another recurring story in the second season is the legend of “Bloodyface,” a serial murderer who kills women and uses their $esh for eccentric purposes. His true identity is Dr. Oliver Thredson, a psychiatrist working at the institution who has some serious mommy issues. He was abandoned by his mother at a young age, and since then has been in search of the perfect woman to take her place. He finally finds this woman in Lana, one of the patients at the hospital, and the weirdest shit goes down when he imprisons her in his basement. First, he tortures her by wearing a mask that is made up of the flesh of his victims, including her lover’s teeth (oh yeah… she’s a lesbian), and he “kisses” her while wearing it. She plays along with his sick “mommy” fantasy in an effort to make it out of his house alive, and ends up having to “breastfeed” him and is even raped by him. If you’re planning on watching this series despite all the spoilers I have revealed, don’t worry, she gets revenge.
By Abraham Alapisco
What do you get when you combine sexy names, accents, and quick cuts? You get Robert Rodriguez’s Desperado, a film that goes out of its way to be stylish and cool in every way possible. The film has the tried-and-true formula of tragic hero, sexy female companion, and a bad guy who smokes too much and never smiles. The music is a big part of what makes Desperado sexy because it gives it the electric amplitude that accompanies the action sequences where only Antonio Banderas can be cool. The protagonist is a musician with luscious locks whose body pumps pheromones to all women within a fifty-mile radius. The scent eventually reaches Salma Hayek, a the sexy bookstore owner with an appetite to save a drifter from himself. When the guns and explosions aren’t destroying the small town in the movie, the passion, romance, and accents take center stage as the characters’ feisty relationship blooms in the midst of the chaos that parallels the drive of a hero with nothing to lose. This all comes together under the lead of director, Robert Rodriguez, who utilizes his signature “El Mariachi” style of filmmaking to create a sleek action movie by using film techniques such as quick cuts, whip pans, zooms, and crazy fast editing. As a result, the film is over the top and the characters have exaggerated personalities, but it keeps its sexuality intact all the way through.PINK FLAMINGOS
By Roque Renteria
When I was approached by the editors to write an article on fetish films, I was like: “Whoa, hold on. Who gave you access to my web history?” After they assured me that it was just the theme of this week’s issue and strangely had nothing to do with my obsessions or sexual curiosities, I was relieved and excited. And once their six-figure check cleared, I went straight to work.
Good reader, I have seen some disgusting things in my time. These things, like Megan Fox’s thumbs, have shaped or misshaped the sinfully perverse in!del you see today. However, I think I am forever indebted to John Waters and his 1976 midnight movie Pink Flamingos for transforming an angry young man into an adorable yet deranged deviant.
How do I begin describing this film? This film is the cinematic predecessor to “2 Girls 1 Cup.” It is the story of crosstown rivals (played by Divine [a drag queen] and Mink Stole) battling for the title of “The Filthiest Person Alive.” Earning this title is no easy task; it involves engaging in everything from incest, unsettling sexual acts with chickens, exposing your anus to a group of white trash weirdos, and lastly, climactic coprophagia. I’m not going to explain that last act, you look it up.
This movie has the look of a really low-rate porno. It was shot on 16-mm back in ‘76 and its digital upscaling does little to improve the quality. And it is very unlikely that a Blu-ray will hit video stores anytime soon. When you watch this movie, you feel like you are transported to a pornographic theater in the late ‘70s. This is not a good feeling. Especially if your mom walks into your room when Divine is onscreen performing incestuous fellatio. My mom now knocks twice before entering any room.
I’m not sure of what else I can say about this movie, except that it has been a huge personal influence. Not the movie itself, but the intentions of the director. John Waters taught me that there are no limits in art. The only limits that exist are selfimposed ones.
Finally, I want you to google image search John Waters and honestly tell me he is not the classiest motherfucker you have ever seen. Irony, that’s what gives Pink Flamingos its magic. This movie proves that the conservative looking, well dressed and well groomed individuals are always the sickest, vilest, and most sexually inventive miscreants. So stay away from people with $15 haircuts and slacks from The Gap. And watch Pink Flamingos, preferably with a friend or loved one. But please, don’t eat any chocolate during the movie. Fair warning.