Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Vintage Sex

Me: There's a half naked man on Star Trek...
Me: ...with a fencing sword.
Me: A half naked ASIAN man with abs!

Cee: :D are you trying to climb through the screen?

Me: I'm stopped by the fact that I know he's gay.

For me, a fetish is when you not only kink for specific body parts or objects. It's when you kink for stuff that doesn't even exist. Which is why I feel able to admit to you that I'm starting to kink hard for Star Trek. 

My dad's a Trekkie from way back, but I never quite got it. He used to watch Babylon 5 every night, and when I had nothing else to do I'd join him. There was some episode that was a homage to Trouble With Tribbles, which somehow led to my dad realizing I had never seen the first version. He popped in a grainy VHS tape of it, and I saw William Shatner for the first time. Dear old dad no doubt thought this was a geek right of passage. I was only midly interested, but this was before I'd reached puberty.

* * *

"So who did you like better?" asked Q. when I told her I had seen the newly airbrushed movie version that weekend, "Kirk or Spock?"

Oh, Kirk is ok, I said, he's all manly and brash and stuff. But Zachary Quinto just makes me melt. (So much so, in fact, that I'd gone back to the orginal series to see more Vulcan goodness and found that the wonderful people at CBS had put up the entire thing on YouTube. It's in great condition and you don't have to feel bad for stealing anything!)

It was with a sense of satisfaction that Q. told me that her first ever crush had been for the original Spock. Since she's a distant relation, I guess it's genetic. And, watching the old series, I'm amazed at how much it does work. I tend to think of my parent's TV as something asexual. But even the chicks on the original Enterprize want to get into Spock's pants, and there are outfits that wouldn't look out of place on a Beyonce video. And even with all these made-for-male planets that just happen to have at least one hot woman on them, there are an awful lot of shirtless men. 

This doesn't mean there aren't a lot of things wrong with the Original Series. It's got cheap sets, clunky plots, and shitty dialogue, but I don't care: my hormones have me once again surfing the internet's waves of utter crap in search of a little flicker of that special something that's obsessed me once again. I'm not thinking of my dignity, but of sweet, sweet Vulcan mind loving (What other pressure points do you know about, Mr. Spock?) Some girls want to devour pints of chocolate ice cream during their period: I just want some attention from an alien life form.

You know where this is going, don't you? Oh, yes, I went there: Kirk/Spock slash. With bondage. And someone set it to "Closer".

I have no shame.

Guys and gals, if I'm ever topping you and I grab you by the face like Spock does in the first few seconds of the video, just roll with it. I promise I'll snap out of it momentarily.

Do you know about how they take the two names of famous couples and contract them? The "technical" term for Kirk/Spock slash is, apparently, "Spork" I shit you not.

The above video was given to me as a response to my comment about how no movie could be as good as Bitchy Jones' libido.  Jayunderscorezero, I have no idea who you are, but if we meet in real life, can we make out? I think we'd have a lot in common.

And the last video should be of that moment in Star Trek when Zachary Quinto is choking Kirk for what seems like ages. But sadly I cannot find one on YouTube, so y'all will have to be content with using it as wallpaper.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009


This photo's just for you, Laken. ;)

Of the many unlikely fantasies boys have told me during the year and change I've been online dating, turning me into an ice cream sundae gets mentioned the most often. It's always fun to see a "male version" of sexual fantasies that are usually directed at women, and, as a switch, it's even more fun to turn a guy's desires back on himself.

I don't think I'd want to eat this ice cream, tho. Perhaps I'd bring in another boy to lick it off him while I watched? 

Monday, September 28, 2009

The Perfect Man

One of the side effects of being into feederism is the ability to guess someone's weight just by looking at them. FA*s, like tailors, learn through looking at hundreds of profiles listing height and weight what to expect, and after a while certain numbers become more important than others. There is a kind of man who will begin to stiffen and leak upon reading the stats "5' 5", 200 lbs." before he's even seen a picture, and I myself am not immune to this phenomenon. 

For me, the magic number is 170 lbs. (My ideal height for a man is a little shorter than myself--say 5' 8".) I'm unusual in wanting something so low, but much over 170 lbs. and a boy's frame will begin to look overloaded. The fat will begin to fold over and bloat him out, overbalance him. Under 170, all his muscles will stand out and his belly will be flat. But at 170, the extremes are perfectly in balance. If he has muscle definition it will still be visible, perhaps slightly softened, but the main difference will be in his belly. The extra flesh will have a round, tight look to it: he'll still fit in his clothes but form-fitting t-shirts will pull across his tummy like a slut's dress. This, in feederism parlance, is called a "ball belly", and I zero in on it the way an ass man looks at pictures of Beyonce. 

It is this set of parameters, as unforgivingly specific as the demands of height and weight for a Vogue model, that seem to set me apart even in what is already an unimaginably rare fetish. I am forever trying to get my cyber-beaus to slow down when they want to speed up--when boys talk lustfully about reaching 200, 300 lbs. I'm urging them to stop right where they are. I want them to be gluttonous, but also go to the gym, maintain. If I could just freeze them in time I absolutely would. 

And, thus, I jinx myself. Most boys I've talked to just want to give their gluttony and lust free reign. What I want is much harder. I want soft hardness and restrained indulgences, I want their bodies to be everything to me, all at once. When I told Cee that I was going to stop looking so hard for a feedee and start trying other things because if I didn't I would be very, very lonely, he said, "Don't you want to create your ideal man?"

And that's the intoxication for every feeder's heart: the ability to mold someone into exactly what you want. Every modern retelling of Pygmalion makes him out to be a shallow, silly cunt, but really, who wouldn't want this power? When our robot overlords get good enough to marry I'm not so much going to want to program a boyfriend to do whatever I want (because who wants something as unchallenging as that?) but mix and match billions of skin and hair and bone structures so he looks exactly how I want. High cheekbones. Skin like marble. Black hair and blue eyes and a round porn star's ass and long fingered hands and a small, perfectly rounded belly. If there was any personality programming going on I'd install a desire to maintain his body that rivaled any starlet's (or would he be a Real Doll-like model that was stuck looking exactly one way?)

But the thing that keeps me from becoming a shining example of how women can have as insanely specific desires as men is that I'd can't imagine how I'd have the right to impose my standards on a real live human male, one that I'd sleep next to and make dinner with. Do I have the right to demand that my lovers shave and wax themselves when I hate doing it myself? Should they always look perfect when I seldom care to put any work into my appearance at all? It's a long and detailed list that would stress anyone out, and if they weren't naturally endowed with the "proper" bone structure it could drive them to despair**.

Nevertheless, I think of this description as the core of my desires. Sometimes it influences my sexual choices, sometimes not. It's true I've had several partners of the dark and delicate-boned variety, and all the feedees I currently cyber with fit that mold. But it's also true that their charms can lose their power over me if they're inarticulate, needy, or just plain mean: the ones I've kept in contact with for over a year are all smart, interesting, and mostly happy boys with their own style of language. And sometimes I just want someone completely different: my first love was a conservative with a body that made one think more of WWF wrestlers than dancers or jockeys, and when I look at the endless parade of boys on my Tumblr I'm constantly surprised how one physical attribute will look quite different on one boy than on another. (I've told Jefferson he'd be more attractive if he shaved his kiwis, but have found myself buried in DC Boy's far hairier crotch and loved every minute of it.) And there's a whole other as-yet-unwritten branch of my sexual desires where the men always come in pairs, with matching appetites but exactly opposite bodies. Perhaps the key to my desires isn't hungry brunettes, but  contrast?

So at the end of this long rambling post about my ultimate desires I've come to the conclusion that there are some things I like a lot, and some things I almost like, and some things I like that I had no idea I liked before I saw them. The fact that hardly anyone has all these things or none of these things guarantees that even if you don't fit my core desires exactly, you don't have to worry I'm "settling" for you. (And neither, thank God, do I.)

Which doesn't erase the fact that if a boy came along who was mostly sane and had the right bone structure I wouldn't go absolutely mad for him. The six weeks or six months it took to change his almost perfect body into my ideal perfect body would be the most intensely sexual of my life. Even if we didn't fuck I might be able to cum just from watching him eat, or work out, or whatever else I had demanded he do to mold himself. If he was slightly dumb I would put up with it, if he was really dumb I'd feel humiliated, if he was a sub I'd push him around and if he was a domineering asshole I don't know what I would do, but no matter what personality he had a part of me wouldn't be able to say no to him. He'd have more power over me than I'm comfortable thinking about, and if he were wired the way he'd have to be wired for this to be in any way consensual, I'd have the same power over him.

There's a movie called Original Sin. It's been many years since I've seen it, so it may in fact be horrible. But it's redeemed in my memory because it has Antonio Banderas and Angelina Jolie in it. They were two of my favorite actors for a long time. I have no idea what's happened to Mr. Banderas, and this was long before Miss Jolie became the woman every straight girl wanted to fuck. I just had an innocent awe of the fact that such alien lips were part of a real human being.

But to cut to the chase: Mr. Banderas sends away for a mail order bride, and gets Jolie in return. After he meets her, falls for her, and fucks her she leaves him (something about her really being a thief who posed as a mail-order bride in order to steal his fortune.) Apparently, she didn't really care for him at all. There's a few minutes of montage where it shows Banderas going into many different brothels, with many different types of women. But they all have the same physical characteristics, the slender build and the long dark hair, and he makes them smoke cigars as she did. 

I know what that's like. I know all too well. 


*FAs: "Fat Admirers". It's feederism speak for chubby chasers. If you're a female chubby chaser you're supposedly an FFA, but why do we need another F in front of it telling people the admirer is female? 

** Or drive him to get very expensive and painful plastic surgery just for me, but that's another post altogether.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Strawberry Crepes

Via pornotumble

God, I love this photo. 

It's so strange I have no idea what is going on (he's getting a...fruit injection?) but I love the sleepy, lazy, addicted look he's got. And the cherries are so delightfully messy in the bowl.  

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

I Feel Vagely Offended...

[Via] And Death Smiled...

Cheng Fei

I've seen a lot of reviews of this work, but I think Coilhouse said it best:

Like cherubs stuffed to their breaking point, Cheng Fei’s figures revel in vice. Their corpulent bodies, drenched in lust and gluttony, roil and roll on the canvas. Faceless, save for collagen plumped pornstar lips, their appendages have ballooned and bloated so that they are nigh unrecognizable. Incapable of seeing, hearing, or smelling they can only imbibe and consume, feeding their own, selfish desires. Some, their skins forced beyond the confines of their elasticity, split asunder, revealing a beautiful and ghastly store of jeweled offal; strings of pearly entrails; the digested result of their hedonism which, even in death, they claw at.
In other words, creepy as hell. 

P.S.: I forgot to queue up the photos for Tuesday, so today you get two posts for the price of one!

Monday, September 21, 2009

My Birthday and Dances of Vice

Photo of Rococo rockstar Prince Poppycock by P. S. Zollo

So my birthday is coming up soon.

How soon? Supposedly, the closer you were born to November 1st, the more perverted you are.

Now, I've always wanted a huge birthday. Elephants, naked slaves, the works. And I think I've finally found the right venue: Dances of Vice. This November they're having A Grand Shipwreck Ball, where apparently hundreds of people dress up like 19th century noble(wo)men and dance and drink the night away. I'd come to NYC, crash on my long-suffering friend's sofa and stay out until dawn wearing out shoes. However, I currently have neither mermaid costume nor extra cash, and I wonder if any Grand Ball, no matter how large or resplendant, will live up to my own dreams of Sadian splendor. 

Which brings us to the slightly cheaper option, which differs not at all from the first plan except that instead of going to a dance, I have a party involving sex. Perhaps a birthday orgy involving some of my favorite NYC perverts? It's been a long time since I've been in the City of Sex, and I'm not sure if anyone will want to come. ;)

 What do you think, peeps? Should I buy the tickets to the Ball now, giving the finger to any future work schedule I might have and hoping I'll find a costume in the next month? Should I instead make plans with my fellow perverts to have wild sex? Or is there a third option I have not considered?

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Nice View

[Via] Chagrin

There's a link to who took this photo, one Mireia, but that's not enough for once, because she doesn't have any more information as to why she took it. I'd like to know, though, 'cuz I'm curious if she had the same motive for taking it as I do for posting it here. 

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Plus Size Erotica: You're Doing It Wrong

Boobies and cupcakes done much better by corkaborka77.

If you like to read or write about sex on the internet, there's a good chance you've heard about Ravenous Romance. I don't actually know much about their performance as a company, but when I heard they had put out a new novel featuring food and a plus size woman I was all "yay!!!"--until I realized I was reading about it on weepingcock. It's an LJ community where people post the best worst porn they can find.

Ravenous Romance's description for Handsome and Petal sounds like the next hot show on the Food Network, but in reality it's some of the stickiest, schmoopiest stuff I've ever seen. It might even give you a yeast infection:

“Lily, my Petal,” Brody said.

She caressed his cheek, which showed a wonderfully scruffy layer of five o’clock shadow.

“Yes, Handsome?”

“You’re more beautiful than a plate of homemade brownies, hotter than hot fudge, more sinful than cinnamon.” Lily blushed. His cock ached in response to the redness on her cheeks. Brody imagined similar color rising on other destinations across her gloriously sexy plus-size form."

The poster, arionhunter, comments, And now, it's time for sex. Food sex. Involving what else but whipped cream? (Once, just once, I want to see a man's "meat" covered in A1 sauce.)

As he watched her movements, feeling like he was floating on a giant cake, she raised a candy cane to her plump lips and teasingly performed oral sex on it. Then Lily hooked the cane around Brody’s straining cock and pulled his thickness into her mouth.

'Hunter explains the symbolism behind this gesture: Y'see, the really fun part about this is that as a kid, every Christmas I was told the story of how the candy cane symbolizes Jesus. I can't wait for my Sunday School teachers to add the part about how "the hard end of the cane symbolizes Jesus's erect penis, ready to be fellatiated, then perform frottage."

I have nothing more to say.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Turn Ons

bad twin, originally uploaded by Photos Parfait.

Pretty much this whole area is what I dream about.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Hipster Guts & Male Swagger

I haven't a clue where Nina Gapinski found this photo of Pete Doherty, but from the scarf's print I am guessing it may have actually been some kind of fashion spread. 

Just yesterday I was wondering why there wasn't a male term for plump-but-hot guys. Today, I found it in the most unusual of places: a blog about DC's Goodwill. The article's inspiration was from a NYT piece  talking about how hipsters are increasingly letting themselves go. There were the usual from-the-collarbones-down shots of fat people and the warning that "Women have almost never gotten a pass on the need to maintain their bodies, while men always have"

But Nina Gapinski gets it:

I think most women know that attitude is everything when it comes to sexy. Belly fat held no appeal to me whatsoever when I was a teenager, but by my mid-twenties I’d turned the corner on that point. There was something to a man having some weight on him if he were going to be at all up to throwing it around, as I saw it... and most of the men I fancied tended to do that. Pitied in fitness magazines and the butt of so many Hollywood movie gags… belly fat, in my mind, held its own tacit countercultural standard; with the right swagger, it was its own brand of hot.

An unapologetic gut is very… gutsy, if you will. It’s take-it-or-leave-it; it isn’t trying too hard. And it subtly implies that this is a man with priorities that have nothing at all to do with some external standards, Greek gods or no Greek gods. The man makes the abs, but the abs will never make the man. It works for me. What, may I ask, is sexier than swagger?

Wednesday, September 9, 2009


[Via] Male

A "softie" is what I call a male who isn't what people would consider fat, but just a little plump around the tummy. Oddly, though there are BBWs, plumpers, and BHMs, there doesn't seem to be a popular phrase for boys like this. Perhaps we should call them BWAs (Boys Without Abs)?

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Why I Don't Google My Fetish Very Much

You'd think that in my endless quest for porn, acceptance, and a local feedee, I'd be constantly typing "feederism" into Google. You might understand why I don't when I show you some highlights from my last foray into the search results:

The idea of feederism disgusts me.
-- from Fattie Gossip

It's remarkably similar to chronic domestic violence, where someone attempting to escape the clutches of the abuser often winds up back in the same situation -- to be abused again.
--from here.

This is actually one of the most well-written articles I have found about my fetish in general, and it often turns up in the first few pages of any web search involving feederism. It neatly outlines all my problems with the way feederism is usually portrayed--it seems too bound up with shame about body image and has little concern for reality--but then ends with the extrapolation that the only ending of any feeder/feedee relationship is for the feedee to die. People, I just want to feed a nice boy an ice cream sundae every now and then, OK? I have limits.

My intention is not merely to inform, but to foster mockery, derision, and disgust.
-- from a fitness forum(!)

Again, this article highlights a lot of the things I don't like about feederism (what is the deal with immobility?) but it uses some of the nastiest fat-hating, anti-kink language I've ever seen to get the point across. It's very long, and even I didn't read the whole thing. To get the gist of it, you really just need to read the title. 

He probably thinks it is a no0rmal way for a man to behave.
-- from here

Even in the absence of a phallus, men are central to the eroticized dominance and submission that’s performed in feeding pornography.
-- from Bitch Magazine

I think this is article is pretty awesome, actually, but if you don't understand why that quote makes me hot under the collar, you haven't been reading this blog very long.

The thing is, often I agree with the opinions expressed here. Feederism on the web is nothing but extremes, and like most mainstream porn, it's almost entirely male-oriented. I hardly ever see what I personally think of as hot, responsible, or even slightly realistic...but nevertheless, this is what most reliably turns me on. Unless I'm writing my own porn, the result of this paradox is that while trying to get off, I'm more often pissed off.

Long story short, I'm tired of being thought of as insane, irresponsible, disgusting, or incapable of being attracted to anyone under 300 lbs. What can I do to change this?


Oh, and just for the hell of it: "Feederism has nothing to do with birds."