Originally published on Oct 15, 2009.


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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. Consequently, I feel somewhat guilty about indulging my fetish, but I figure every now and then shouldn't hurt. Thing is, he's started to eat too much to please me. He's put on weight, and while the libido part of me finds it hot, the logical part of me wants him to be healthy and stop 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 I'm not forcing him to do anything. But I would still feel bad knowing that he was essentially worse off—less healthy—for having dated me. I 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.

Luckily for him, FAT, you're a conscientious, ethical dominant feeder. You're not one of those evil feeders who wants to do lasting harm to some poor gainer; you don't want to feed your boyfriend into a 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. 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 yes for an answer, and shove a doughnut in his mouth.


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I'm currently recovering from surgery — a shoulder injury, nothing serious, but I've been told recovery from this kind of surgery (repairing a torn rotator cuff) takes some time and that I'll be laid up for a while and even more useless than usual. So I'm taking a couple weeks off. That means lots of time — and lots of Netflix and Percocet — on the couch for me, but no new SLLOTDs for you. You'll get new columns and new podcasts but no new SLLOTDs. In lieu of new SLLOTDs we will be running previously published letters and my responses. In lieu of flowers or get-well cards please get yourself something nice at www.ImpeachTheMotherfuckerAlready.com — all proceeds benefit the ACLU, Planned Parenthood, and the International Refugee Assistance Project — or email me a picture of your boyfriend's butt.

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