Floorbound Interview

A few months ago, I stumbled across an Instagram page promoting an upcoming memoir called Floorbound. What caught my attention immediately was how unapologetically it explored a niche rarely discussed in published work - fetishes centred around trampling and socks. I couldn’t think of another memoir that approached the subject so directly, and I was intrigued.

Curious to learn more, I reached out to the author. We recently sat down to talk about the book, which not only recounts his experiences within these subcultures, but more compellingly traces his personal journey toward understanding and accepting his desires.

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Let's start with an introduction, who is R.J. Bowe?

I’m a 58 year old, gay, married man living in Wisconsin. I write under a pseudonym because it gives me the freedom to be honest on the page while keeping my private life protected.

How did you get to the point where you wanted to write a memoir about your life and kinks?

Honestly, I never imagined I’d write a memoir. Floorbound started as therapy journals. During the pandemic, my therapist asked me to keep a journal. I revisited them last Spring and noticed the same themes kept coming up. Mainly my attraction to socks, how trampling had been a major part of my life, intertwined with a mix of pleasure and shame that came with it. A lot of entries were about childhood memories of me sniffing my Dad’s socks and how I’d get him to stand on me. What struck me is how many of those experiences followed me into adulthood . Especially the shame I felt from having these kinks. And how naive I was in assuming that because of my dad’s early acceptance and indulgence, it would always be that way. And how wrong I was.

I read pieces of those journals in therapy, and my longtime therapist eventually said, “You know, your story could help people.” That stuck with me. The memoir became a way to reclaim something that had shaped me for decades — unpacking it with honesty instead of shame, and hopefully offering a bit of clarity or comfort to anyone who’s had similar feelings or struggles.

Has it always been about trampling and socks for you, or do you have other kinks too?

It has always been socks and trampling. One of my earliest memories was taking my Dad's socks out of the hamper and sniffing them. I would constantly lay underneath his chair and put his feet on my face. That was the start of it. Trampling came a few years later after watching pro wrestler Andre the Giant stand on his opponent. Even though I had no idea why I felt funny inside from these two childhood quirks.

I dont really have any other kinks.

It's really fascinating how your Dad indulged you with these quirks. You mentioned his early acceptance, but it sounds like you struggled to find acceptance from other guys later on? Did you struggle to find guys to trample you?

His acceptance wasn't about my kinks per se; it was more about how he indulged and accepted them to keep me safe. I would have no doubt tried to get other adults or boys to indulge them. This way he could keep me safe (and as I found out later, because I was constantly annoying him to stand on me or let me lay under his socks so it kept me quiet). As an adult, it was a mixed response; some men didn't understand it and would flat out reject me. Others were open to both. I came out in 1990, pre-Internet. So I asked in person, not under the cover of an anonymous user.

Those rejections kept the shame going. Even when I was indulged, the shame was constantly there.

Is this what he told you? That he thought you would try and seek it out with others?

Not when I was a child. I disocvered that when I spoke to him about me writing the book. He told me he knew I'd be hurt if I asked others to stand on me. He could at least control it. The socks thing he thought was funny. But it didn't hurt me, and it kept me quiet while I was under him. Looking back, his indulgence actually gave me a false sense of security. I thought it would always be this easy to find men to allow me to sniff their socks or stand on me. I was wrong. But my dad's acceptance was the right thing to do for both of us at that time.

Honestly I think this would be so rare, your Dad might not have understood the why but to just go with it anyway was a nice thing to do for you.

Is that an actual pic of you and your Dad?

My mom took the Polaroid. I had no clue it existed until my Dad sent it to me. He said she thought it was cute. The other one, I set up a camera timer. That's why the quality is bad. I was their first child. Maybe thats why it was cute. I don't know.

Will you let your Dad read the final book? Do you think he is or was worried that he contributed to your fetish? I'm assuming he knows that it is a sexual thing for you now, given that you describe some other trampling scenes with other men, etc.

If he wants to read the book, yes I’d let him. But I doubt he will. I’m not even sure he knows I continued those childhood quirks into adulthood. And I use the word quirks intentionally when I talk about him, because it wasn’t sexual; it was more of a game between us, at least as I remember it. That’s one of the reasons I write under a pseudonym: to protect him from any embarrassment or misunderstanding. I don’t want him subjected to ridicule for something that was innocent.

Totally understand this. I think for most people when they come to find out about trampling, it doesn't really occur to them that it could be sexual. A question I often get is, 'Why?' How do you think people come to have a trampling fetish? Did your therapist ever offer explanations on this?

I don’t think there’s a single reason why people are into trampling. Some people love pressure, some love intensity, some love the absurdity of it, and some are drawn to it for reasons they can’t even explain. It’s both sensation and emotion together. When my therapist and I have discussed the topic, he tells me people are wired that way. Basically they were born with it. It may not always be known until adulthood. He constantly reassures me that I’m normal. Kinks do not make me (or anyone) odd. Its part of our life, some don't want to accept it, others (like me) struggle to accept it, and then theres those who have never had an issue with it. Therapy helped me accept that, for me, it was about the emotional imprint, the intensity, the awe, and the weird mix of fear and excitement.

How does shame operate in queer lives?

Unfortunately, shame is baked into a lot of queer lives. I grew up during the AIDS crisis, long before same‑sex marriage was legal, and there certainly were no positive queer role models. My kinks were a big part of my shame, but so was growing up as a gay kid. I was so scared to come out in 1990. Society made queer folks feel shame just for being who we are or who and how we love. We get disowned by families, told that God hates us, or have people we love vote for politicians that want to erase us from existence. When we grow up with that kind of messaging, shame becomes a survival reflex. It’s taken most of my 58 years to feel comfortable being myself. I wish I had a magic answer for how to avoid shame altogether, but I don’t. What I do know is we survive by being present, by being proud in whatever way we can, and by surrounding ourselves with our chosen family.

I think a lot of guys will relate to this. I've found talking to friends more about my kinks has helped, but I am still very selective with who I tell.

Would you say you have conquered shame around your kinks? If so, did acceptance come after meeting your husband Tim or was it helped by therapy?

I don't know if I'll ever fully get over the shame or fully accept it. I still struggle with it. I get embarrassed and feel like I'm being judged whenever I tell anyone. Espceially friends. However, I have come to accept both fetishes are a big part of me. My husband Tim never judged me because of them. Since meeting him we've explored. I'm not saying he understands it, but he accepts it. He's actually become a rather good trampler.

I was wondering if maybe you had got to quite a good place with it all, especially with the memoir - but equally I feel it is hard to get over the shame.

Good to hear that your husband tramples you - what is something that he does in trampling that you love?

Writing the memoir definitely helped me in ways I was not prepared for. I’ve definitely reached a better place as the process forced me to look at the whole arc, not just the parts I carried shame about. It gave me perspective and a kind of distance I didn’t have before. But I also think shame isn’t something you just ‘get over.’ It’s something you learn to understand and work around. For me, the shame came from secrecy and confusion, not from the behavior itself. Floorbound allowed me express myself, talk about it, and gave me the courage to speak about my childhood quirks with my Dad. That's a conversation I would never have had if it weren't for the book. So yes, I’m in a much better place now. But it’s not because the shame vanished. It’s because I finally understand the story underneath it.

Tim stands on my face with stinky socks on. And not just any socks, a pair I got from a straight friend of ours. How I got them is a fun story that's in the book. I don't want to spoil it. The fact that he doesn't mind using someone else's socks to enhance our fun tells me why we've been together 27 years.

What makes a desire 'taboo' and who decides?

I think “taboo” is mostly about preconceived notions. Society decides what’s acceptable and what’s strange, and those lines shift constantly. Some things are universally wrong, but a lot of desires fall into a gray area where they’re harmless for one person and shocking to someone else. That’s where taboo lives. And how people react to it. Part of my shame came from feeling like I was doing something wrong, that I was weird. The neighborhood kids gossiped about me. I was gay (even if I didn't yet know) and I liked being stepped on and sniffing socks. It wasn't a secret as I often stole their fathers socks and they would embarrass me by throwing socks at me. I was labeled “weird”. In the 70s and 80s that was scandalous. That’s probably why the reputation followed me through high school, and by the time I became a sexual adult, my own community often ridiculed my interests. That’s how taboo gets built. Not from the desire itself, but from the way people respond to it.

It is hard being into something that the majority of people see as weird or as a taboo. If you could give some advice to your younger self now, in those early days of navigating this fetish or quirk - what would it be?

I’d tell my younger self that nothing is wrong with him. That he isn’t broken, and is not alone. That you’re drawn to things most people will call strange or taboo, and your instinct is to hide it, bury it, or try to fix it. And that secrecy becomes its own kind of shame. Instead, embrace it and own it. That feeling like you're ‘weird’ is often worse than reality. Be curious instead of afraid, block out the noise, and appreciate what Dad did for him, someday you'll look back at how truly special it was. Not many Dads would do what he did for you. And that one day he’ll find someone who will accept you for you. Quirks and all.

It's easier said than done, but it's all true.. and I think a lot of guys work it up in their minds to be something worse than it is.

Thinking about it from the other side, why do you think people don't accept a trampling kink?

Because it’s odd on the surface. I mean, being stood on is not something most people automatically connect with intimacy or desire. It’s outside their normal, so the first reaction is often confusion or “why would anyone want that?” If a person allows themself to try it, either as the trampler or trampler, they usually gain a whole new perspective. A lot of people end up surprised by how erotic and playful it can be. There will always be people who will never accept it, and that’s fine too. Not every kink is for everyone. It’s the same with socks. I’ve had guys block me the second they find out, or act grossed out at the idea of me sniffing their socks. It’s funny, because it’s harmless, but it still hits that “weird” category for some people. And most people cling to whatever they think “normal” is (whatever that means).

I agree. They can't get their heads around the fact something can be pleasurable from feet and weight. I like that feet have become a lot more mainstream these days, it feels like everyone knows of a foot fetish now. Trample fetish still has a way to go. Have you ever heard any accounts of a trampling fetish between men earlier than the 1980s?

My own story started in the late 70s and early 80s. And if it happened to me back then, it’s hard to imagine I was the only one. I doubt trampling suddenly just appeared. The act itself absolutely existed long before then. You see versions of it in wrestling, military hazing, sports culture, and even in certain rituals. The reason we haven't heard much about pre-1980's trampling is that it wasn’t documented. Back then, cameras weren't as easily accessible as today. It was likely harder to develop photos of a sexual nature. And let's face it, queer people didn't leave evidence that could incriminate them. It was a totally different time. The behavior existed. The documentation didn’t.

Yes it would have been hard, I was just curious as I have yet to come across any stories from further back.

Without giving too many spoilers away, I was curious about some of the sessions you mentioned in the book. The one in the dorm with roommates, where one day you were just laying on the floor, and one of them walks in and without hesitation stands on you. Did this happen more than once? I'm curious if they ever found out if you liked it?

Those guys were clueless about my kinks. They were high school jocks rooming with a skinny gay dork that they could emasculate. I was lucky enough to get them to stand on me. Maybe not lucky, more like pre-planned. I’d position myself on the floor with a pillow under my head, listening to my Walkman or reading something for class. I didn't move when any of them walked in, hoping they'd get the hint. Then one day, Dave, the one I had a huge crush on, stepped on my chest. He posed like a bodybuilder and taunted me. I acted as if I hated it, writhing around and making faces. From then on, they all started doing it. I think back on that time now and wonder if they knew I liked it.

No, I think you're right.. they would have had no clue. It wouldn't have come across their minds that someone could be into that.

The other one, the trampling contest at the bear bar. Was this a one off? I have never heard anything like it, but its a wet dream of many guys I'd imagine!

The trampling contest is not a usual thing that occurs. However, fetish nights do happen, especially in leather bars. That's where the contest I was in occurred, a leather bar in Chicago. I happened to stumble upon a hole in the wall bar that just so happened to be hosting fetish games. Not just trampling, but many fetishes. Guys were lying in urinal troughs to get pissed on, there were boot licking demonstrations, paddling, you name it, it occurred. I entered the trampling contest. I've never encountered another, but admittedly, I'm no longer a bar fly. I recently found one such contest advertised online, I don’t know exactly where, but it was in Europe. I’m not sure how prevalent it is. All I can say is I’ve had my fair share of bears trample me. And a couple leather daddies.

That story had me so excited. I would love to stumble across something like that, even just to watch it.

To finish, here is an excerpt from a story R.J. submitted to a magazine, about a phone call he's since had with his Dad.

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I had one of those unexpected conversations with my Dad recently — the kind that begins with weather, sports, and general chit chat and ends with your insides feeling slightly rearranged. I mentioned over the phone that I’d written a book containing stories about how I used to beg him to let me sniff his black-socked feet, and concocted a way to get him to stand full weight on my stomach. His breath caught audibly before he chuckled, a sound like ice cracking in warm whiskey. The whole conversation has stayed in my mind like a vivid dream. When a parent steps into the museum of your childhood memories, it feels like someone reading your diary. Intimate and exposing. Doubly so when those memories involve my father discovering the strange rituals of his queer little boy who found inexplicable comfort in his worn socks.

According to Dad, I was perpetually underfoot as a child, in the most literal sense. He recalled how I’d wriggle beneath his easy chair, lift his sock covered feet, and press them against my face. He’d calmly turn the pages of his evening newspaper or watch Cronkite deliver the day’s news on our wood panelled Zenith, acting as though nothing unusual was happening below him.

I asked what he remembered about standing on me. He said I was constantly begging him, lying down in front of him wherever he went. In front of the stairs, at the bathroom door, and even in the mall one time. Then one day, he finally decided to do it because I was annoying him, tugging at his pant leg and whining in that particular high-pitched way kids do when they want something incomprehensible. Dad added that he figured I’d stop asking if he placated me, and I discovered that it would be painful. A 1970’s FAFO moment, if you will. He recalled the first time he stepped onto my small frame, how my spine pressed into the shag carpet, the caution in his hazel eyes as he tried to understand this peculiar request while balancing against a wall. 

“I thought you’d squirm out from under me, crying,” he admitted, his voice distant with remembrance. “But you just laid there, quiet, still, and content, with this strange little smile. It was the damnedest thing.” 

“You were an odd duck from the start,” he said, the words carrying no sting despite their frankness. 

“Did you ever outgrow that?” he asked. 

”Not really,” I sheepishly told him.

And then he said the line that stuck with me:

“I never understood why you were the way you were.”

Not in a harsh way. More like a man wondering why his firstborn son was so peculiar. I explained, “Dad, I don’t have answers either,” I admitted. “You were simply there. You were convenient and available. You were the main male figure in my life. By far the biggest man I knew. And lucky for me, you just so happened to be the man whose socks seemed to comfort me in a strange way.” 

Honestly, I still don’t know why. Just the way my brain is wired, I guess. It doesn’t really matter now. I now realize how confusing it must have been for my Dad to understand why his son liked sniffing his socks and begged to be stood on. It was the 1970’s, families didn’t discuss such taboo subjects. My Dad, for his part, handled it much more progressively than most men of the time. 

What strikes me about the whole conversation is how we spoke with such ease. Neither of us retreated behind jokes, sarcasm, nor tried to change the subject. We just talked normally on the phone, just father and son, discussing these peculiar memories as if they were some adventure we encountered together.

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For all R.J.'s links, including where to buy a physical or electronic copy of Floorbound:

Click here for his linktree.