Your Kink Is Not My Kink (And Your Kink Is Pretty Fucked Up)

I had an upsetting conversation today with a guy. It started out with him just complimenting my tummy and round cheeks, actually rather charmingly. I have no problem enjoying a certain symbiosis with chubby chasers--I'm kinda chubby, they like chubby, and so goes the great Circle of Life.

Then he started talking about feeding me cake. Hey, cake, fine by me. Cake's good. I realize this is a part of the fat thing, but if me eating cake turns your weird pervert crank, well... that's not exactly a painful and demanding fetish, is it now?

Then he started talking about wanting to feed me so much all the time that I got to be huge and couldn't leave the house and he would just take care of me all the time because I would be so huge I would be helpless. He started talking about this very seriously, emphasizing several times that it was "a lifestyle, not a fantasy."

WHOA WHOA WHOA SHIT JUST GOT WEIRD.

I have this thing about people who have impractical fantasies and won't acknowledge that they're fantasy. If you acknowledge it, that's okay; I'll eat your cake and lie on your couch for an afternoon and we can play all "wow, I fed you so much you can't move, now let's have amazing sex." And after the amazing sex I will go back to eating lentil soup and walking several miles a day because c'mon, I've got my own life. But if you refuse to acknowledge the fourth wall here, if you continually insist that you really want to make me really unable to move... you creep the fuck out of me.

Maybe it's just a communication failure. I get the feeling that saying "no, it's really for real" is part of the fantasy, and I'm being too stubbornly literal by not going along with that. (Although even in this case, he's still the asshole for not being able to step out of character long enough to explain this.)

Or fuck, maybe not. Maybe he really does want to give me goddamn bedsores. In which case, dammit, he shouldn't have gotten quite so put out and "you're being mean" when I told him that was creepy. Because it is creepy. Maybe I'm closed-minded, but I don't think I can say that wanting to literally cripple someone is a okay kink. He was talking about functionally ending my life--making me unable to enjoy the outdoors, to work outside the home, to visit friends--fuck. To say nothing of what happens to the skin and general bodily function of an immobile person.

There's people out there who think what I do isn't okay. I'm sensitive to that. I know how it feels. I know that proper kink etiquette is to say "If you find a girl who consents to that and enjoys it, mazel tov to ya both." But I just couldn't. I kept thinking about all the bedsores I've seen. Some had things living in them. I told him as much.

I really hate to say something is not okay. It's not my life or my business. But fuck, man, bedsores.