On March 10th, 2025, I launched an OnlyFans account. In the first month, I had over 300 subscribers and made just under $7,000.
It was, more or less, an experiment. An experiment involving boobs, American tragedy, and a twisted sense of humor. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but I was using what “the good Lord” gave me, which happened to be a great rack.
BOOM- a 9/11 themed OnlyFans account was born.
I kept things simple at first. Suggestive photos with carefully chosen angles. Captions referencing 9/11, Dick Cheney, or anything Bush-adjacent. No full nudes. I was only posting some really good pictures of my underboob or side boob. I’d show just enough to keep them interested and if they wanted more they’d DM me and we’d discuss if I was comfortable with their requests.
I even used an autographed photo of George H.W. and Barbara I’ve had in my apartment for years to hold up and cover parts of myself. Those posts got flagged. Something about “unauthorized use of someone’s image.” But I’d argue they would’ve approved. If anything, I think they’d be pleased to know they were being used to cover a woman up instead of letting her be exposed. They were prudes, after all.
People subscribed out of curiosity, or disbelief, or because they’d been following the bit and couldn’t look away. A few even messaged me directly: “I had to see what this was.” They weren’t disappointed.
A few became regulars. Some shared deeply personal things. I hadn’t expected the intimacy or the weird sense of responsibility that came with it. It felt less like adult content and more like a niche social experiment that happened to be paying my over due bills.
And then there was the backlash.
I posted follow-up TikToks that were carefully worded, since you can’t talk about this kind of thing on TikTok, only around it. One of the comments came from a user with a generic handle, something like “user483920” or whatever. They said I should stop. That I was embarrassing them.
I went to their profile, and that’s when I realized, based on a shared post, this must’ve been somebody I used to work with. Somebody I very much looked up to and respected. And that really hurt. I got sad. And then I got mad.
Because I wasn’t trying to be a role model. Or a provocateur.
I was trying to pay my medical bills.
Despite the occasional hurtful comment, I was okay because the account was thriving. The audience was surprisingly nice. Not always normal, but kind. Some people messaged me just to say I made them laugh. Others trauma-dumped. A few asked if I was okay. I was and I wasn’t.
I started doing lives. I didn’t love them. I don’t like showing my face, but I tried to make it bearable. I’d dress up like a press secretary and draw people’s future children based on their astrology signs. The kids were always ugly. That was part of the appeal. I’d play “Bombs Over Baghdad” in the background. By the end, my top was usually off. That felt fair.
At one point, I offered FaceTime calls. Just conversation. $200 an hour. I thought that was ridiculous. But people paid. Some just wanted to talk to someone honest. Or unfiltered. Or weird. I don’t think I’m an intimidating person, and I think I’m pretty open so a lot of people felt comfortable sharing intimate details with me. And in this circumstance, I had found the perfect combination for success. Especially when you factor in my “hot librarian” look. (This is not how I would describe myself but rather what others have said. I’d describe myself as, well, never mind it’s not appropriate here)
Of course, some people asked for weird stuff. One person asked if I’d be their toilet. Others wanted kink content I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) provide. I said no. I have boundaries. Then there were foot pics. And I don’t mind sending those.. quite the opposite actually. It’s like sending a photo of an elbow with better PR.
The truth is: I wasn’t prepared for it to work. Not like that. Not that fast. Not that loud.
I’m just a person. With depression. And demand avoidance. And an extremely specific sense of humor. So when the account started picking up traction, I got overwhelmed. People wanted more. More content. More attention. More of me. And I got tired. So I slowed down.
I still post. I still talk to people. But it’s not like it was at the beginning.
And that’s okay.
I didn’t get rich. The money helped for a while. But it mostly went to medical debt. Since then, I’m still struggling and behind on regular expenses like rent, credit card bills and everything else. I’m still playing catching up. I don’t know what comes next. But I know I’ll figure something out. I always do.
If you have any ideas… or want to pay my rent… I’m not saying no.
And if you’re still wondering what a 9/11-themed OnlyFans looks like:
[onlyfans.com/GWBush43]
It’s kinda hot.
It’s funny.
It’s mine.
Rach
PS I have a hot 9/11 themed wedding idea I can pitch you
😂 damn, every time
This is iconic