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I’m
a 25-year-old girl dating a 26-year-old guy. My boyfriend
identifies as sexually submissive. He likes to be tied up,
put in women’s underwear, and locked in a chastity device,
and he has a strong urge to please. I hate the term, but I
suppose you could call me a “feeder.” I am turned on by the
idea of someone eating a lot of food, usually junk food, and
putting on weight.
It’s probably related, but I’m also a bit of a fitness nut—I’m
the type of person who gets her cat health food. Consequently,
I feel somewhat guilty about indulging my fetish, but I figure
every now and then shouldn’t hurt. Thing is, since I’ve been
honest with my boyfriend and he knows how much this stuff
turns me on, often when we go out he’ll eat too much to please
me. The short of it is, he’s put on some weight, and while
the libido part of me finds it hot, the logical part of me
wants him to be healthy and wants to stop this pattern before
he gets, like, actually fat.
Thing is, it’s hard enough to convince your partner to work
out when it will lead to your being more attracted to him.
It’s nearly impossible to convince your partner to work out
when it may lead to your being less attracted to him. So what
do I do? I could say he knows the risks, and since I’m not
forcing him to do anything, I could just run with it. But
I would still feel bad knowing that he was essentially worse
off—less healthy—for having dated me. I just don’t want to
give him a complex.
—Fat
Admirer Troubled
Your
boyfriend is a submissive crossdresser who’s into bondage
and chastity, FAT, so he came to you with a complex—two or
three at least. Not that there’s anything wrong with that:
His complexes, and the fetishes and kinks they’ve sprouted,
give him a great deal of pleasure, FAT, and it sounds like
you’re enjoying ’em, too. We should all be so lucky to have
such complexes.
So get off the rack already—that’s where the boyfriend belongs—and
negotiate an explicit “power exchange agreement” where his
diet and weight are concerned. Explain to him that having
a dominant feeder girlfriend doesn’t give him license to eat
whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and put on however much
weight he wants. You’re the dominant, FAT, you’re in charge,
so you get to determine what he eats, when he eats, how much
he eats, and ultimately how much weight he gains.
But luckily for him, FAT, you’re a conscientious, ethical
dominant feeder. You’re not one of those evil feeders who
wants to do serious and lasting harm to some poor gainer;
you don’t want to feed your boyfriend into weight-related
disability and/or an early grave. You’re interested in feeder
play, not murder-by-cream-cheese-frosting.
So order the boyfriend to eat junk food, sit on his ass, and
gain weight for a few months, FAT, and then order him to eat
healthier food, get off his ass, and lose the weight. Don’t
let his weight go more than 30 pounds over his ideal weight
and you won’t be doing him any real or lasting harm.
And FAT? Even if indulging your fetish shaves a year or two
off his life, well, people throw away decades of their lives
for lesser pleasures. People smoke, ride motorcycles without
helmets, and stick their rear ends in the air in skank-ass
sex clubs. Our bodies are our own, FAT; they’re ours to use,
abuse, and, since we’re all going to die one day, they’re
ours to use up. Sane adults strike a balance between
taking care of our bodies—eating right, drinking in moderation,
getting exercise—while still allowing for pleasures that require
us to eat poorly, drink in excess, and lie motionless for
days at a time while we recover. The better care you take
of yourself—the more time you spend eating right, drinking
in moderation, and exercising—the longer you’ll live, of course,
and the more pleasures you’ll get to enjoy before you inevitably
croak.
It’s ultimately up to your boyfriend to determine whether
the pleasures of submitting to you—including the pleasure
of indulging your fetish—are worth the risks to his health.
Are those 20 or 30 extra pounds something he’s willing to
carry around for you half the year? Is having a kick-ass sex
life with you in his 20s—and possibly in his 30s, 40s, and
50s—worth shaving a year or two off his life in his 70s or
80s? If he decides that the answer is yes, FAT, be a gracious
bondage/chastity/feeding top, take his yes for an answer,
and stick a doughnut in his mouth.
A question in the spirit of the season: Can zombie sex
ever be consensual? Because I think if confronted with a zombified
Zac Efron, I might go for it if he were properly restrained.
Can you teach a zombie a safe word? Does it count if it’s
“braaaains”? It’s not necrophilia with the walking dead, is
it? What would you say is the sexual morality of this situation?
—Hope
In Zombie Zac If Ethical
If
you’d seen Zombieland, HIZZIE, you’d know that a hot
person, once transformed into a zombie, isn’t hot anymore.
A pretty girl is bitten by a zombie, falls asleep in the arms
of Zombieland’s nebbishy hero, and awakes as a thoroughly
hideous flesh-eating monster. Even a zombified Zac Efron—I’m
going to resist making the obvious joke here—would be too
repulsive to fuck. Think of the gore, the viscera; think of
the Axe body spray.
As for the morality of the situation, fucking zombies—the
walking dead—is necrophilia, technically speaking, but practically
speaking, it comes closer to bestiality. A human being who
has been zombified is nothing but an animal, hungry for brains,
incapable of thought much less consent. We can kill animals
for their flesh, but we mustn’t fuck them, HIZZIE; and we
can kill zombies for wanting our flesh, but likewise we mustn’t
fuck them.
Met a super-hot boy—straight!—at a bar. Nice, familiar
with my work (I’m an artist), thinks I’m all great. Talked,
kissed. Exchanged numbers. Made plans. For a date. Dinner.
He tells me he’s married but in an “open relationship.” What
do I do? Do open relationships really exist?
—She
Lusts Until Truth
Yes,
SLUT, open relationships exist. But the only person who can
confirm that this boy—straight!—is actually in one, SLUT,
is his wife. Ask her. Before you kiss that boy some more.
Or go. On. That. Date.
I came up with an amazing word years ago, and I have
been trying like hell to get it into the dictionary: procrasturbation.
It means “to waste time by pleasuring yourself.” I wrote Merriam-Webster
back in 2004—here is the response I got: “Your coinage is
clever, but I’m afraid that cleverness is not the criterion
on which a word is entered into our dictionaries. . . . For
‘procrasturbate’ to be entered, it will need to appear in
a number of well-read print sources for a good number of years.
When we’ve collected enough citations for the word, we will
enter it into our dictionary.”
I was just wondering if you could help me out with this one,
Dan, by using “procrasturbate” in your column.
—Organically
Enters Dictionary
“Procrasturbate”
is genius, OED, but appearing in my column isn’t going
to get it into the dictionary. “Santorum” has appeared in
this space and other well-read print sources for years now,
and it hasn’t seeped into Merriam-Webster’s yet. I
call shenanigans.
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