Category Archives: Fativism

No, I’m Not the Mole

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I would say I’m sorry for the delay but I’m not. Life has been a lot the past couple of weeks outside of this Feabie situation.

I don’t have the energy to go into full detail with everything and write a whole novella so bear with me. This is just to clear up any rumor or implication that I am somehow a mole for Grokio. I will add more later about the nuance of why what Grokio did was completely unacceptable, but that has become its own beast.

As most people know this situation started in early-mid September when a Feabie member made a racist comment on a Black member’s post. She (StudioJiggly) reported it and it was declined for a temp ban as it should have been subject to. She pushed back. Grokio admin not only declined further but then warned the reported member and accepted an apology on Jiggly’s behalf. That is not only not their place to do but also violated their own terms of service which clearly state that even if someone did not intend harm, when it is experienced in this manner that a temporary ban is warranted.

From there on out all hell broke loose.

Everyone at Feabie finally had enough of admin’s shit. If you know, you know. If you don’t, get a clue. (This is one of those things I am too tired to explain but will go into detail about later).

There is a LOT that goes on in this part about who said what about whom and all of these things. They are important things for me to comment on and I will but I realized it’s been over two weeks now since my last post about it.

One of the many reactions to the situation were people choosing to abandon the Grokio ship and jump to Discord in a server called Feabie Refugees. I already had a bad feeling about it as the Feabie format would not translate well to Discord. Still, I joined the server but due to my work schedule was not active in it at all.

Then one day a lot of temporary and permabans started getting dished out by Feabie—this in and of itself is a hilari-bad reaction on their part that deserves a full explanation when I have the energy for it. They accompanied these bans with this god-awful, deliberately misrepresentative, and flat-out wild blog post “explaining” the situation.

In that blog post, they have screenshots of me specifically having a specific conversation in one of the channels on the server.

All of those were part of the discussion I was in and having with everyone. I am blurred out but that is definitely me saying “You’re the ones going around saying…”

Several people did not like the conversation I was having; I genuinely was trying to get information and understand changes and things like that but also pushing back on some dangerous things that were being said (which is something I will go into another time). I was pretty hyperfocused and it’s definitely understandable why people would not have wanted to continue the conversation.

However, I was outright accused of being a mole and defending Grokio for pointing out some logistical things to the Feabie Refugees that simply would not make sense and pursuing them would only cause further harm to everyone. If anyone knows me at all, the last thing I would ever do is defend Feabie. I have some thoughts I need to share about that later specifically but for now I am going to leave it at that pointing out what is and is not relevant to the situation or within the scope of appropriate action on Grokio’s part is not the same as defending them in any way.

At any rate, there was a whole big conversation and then the second things actually got resolved and we understood each other, I was immediately removed from the server within moments of these parts of the conversation.

Turns out that many people were getting banned back at Feabie just for mentioning the situation (this was what led to the conversation in the Refugee server to begin with) and again, that is a huge mismanagement debacle itself I will discuss another time. The joke’s on Grokio though: by perma-banning me, I’m no longer bound by terms of service; so, screenshots I have hung onto for years can now be shared without repercussion.

This is getting longer than I thought it would be and I’m not sweeping other critical parts of the context and events under the rug on purpose, I just need to have the energy to discuss them. I am not really active on kink Twitter, I only have one little baby FA-centric gaming server where I talk to two (2) other people about the situation; and I certainly do not have any inroad with the administrators.

I thought I had a screenshot of when they IP-banned me but I do not. Alas, you will have to accept this for the time being. Just like all of you my emails to them have remained unanswered.

The next time I talk about this will be about all the other working parts of the situation.

Sorry this was not more productive. My next post about this will be much more thought-out. I’ve been getting suspiciously high traffic the past few days and felt the need to just crank this out right away.

Your Eyes Do Not Deceive You

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There has been a lot going on in the FA world this week. If you use Feabie and have noticed I’m missing (yes, me, the “stop deleting your damn profile you fucking cowards!” person): I got banned, big time.

I genuinely do not understand why. Well, not specifically. They never provided a reason. But anyone who knows about the dumpster fire going on there recently might have a clue. And yet! There will be surprises, so hang tight.

It’s a long story and I need to share my side of it and experience.

But at the moment I am handling real-life stuff; namely, a medical diagnosis. It’s a good one actually and it’s much more relief than anything, but it’s all happening along with this fiasco and I have to put my health first while I adjust to it.

I’ll be back soon with some updates and details! And you know, the good-good stuff 😉

The Correct Word is “Feedism.”

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Don’t mind me, just rolling through with a bite for you to think about when it comes to discussing this kink.

Many people erroneously call it feederism, but if I may, please reconsider shortening to feedism.

Feederism refers to only one half of the dynamic and eliminates the other very important part: feedees. It erases them from the discussion, when the kink wouldn’t exist at all without them! Can’t feed someone if there isn’t a willing partner to receive it, right?

Additionally, referring to it as feederism implies that there is a hierarchy and that feeders are the authority or the norm. In reality, just as feedism can’t exist without feedees, nor can it exist without feeders—but one is not more important than the other.

All feeders are feedists. All feedees are feedists. The entire bubble wrapped up is feedism.

That’s all, thank you, carry on!

I Saw a Feedist Couple in The Wild

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A couple of weeks ago, I was waiting for the bus and across the street I saw what was clearly a feedist couple. It was a little jarring as I don’t think I’d ever seen one so overt in broad daylight before, not without seeking one out at an event or for a date or meetup.

The road on which we waited for our transport is five or six lanes wide; it’s a main thoroughfare of the city and yet I could tell almost immediately what brought them together, despite being several yards away and having no other information about them.

They were stereotypes of the kink; a tall lanky man doting on a petite plump woman. It’s possible she may have been pregnant and it was not easy to tell from the distance but even if she had not been gravid she still would have been BBW and unmistakably so.

As much as I miss sex, I fantasize more about who I will hug first and if they would have the patience to let me cling for awhile.

What grabbed my attention though was the look on the woman’s face. Something about the man’s attention on her was frenetic and disconnected. He would touch her, kiss her, embrace her, then step away to make a call and then return again. She stood in one spot and didn’t appear to really focus on anything.

We caught gazes more than once. I looked away every time. It wasn’t their contrast that got my attention—something that drives me wild in the most primal sense—nor was it her fatness, either. It was the look on her face, the firmness of her posture, the resolution she committed to not making a single move while they awaited their bus.

Mass transit in Los Angeles is notoriously awful. Quarter-hour headways in rush hour on a main road is considered frequent service. I had plenty of time to observe these two. My phone was dead, I had forgotten my Kindle, and there was nothing else to do but watch them. Even if I wanted to look away, I simply couldn’t bring myself to.

This is a bad habit I have formed in the pandemic. Being single and without any touch for a year leaves me so desperate for human contact that the best satisfaction I get is watching others interact. I don’t mean sexual gratification; just the safety and security of skin-to-skin contact. Holding hands. Cuddles. Closeness without fear of spreading disease. As much as I miss sex, I fantasize more about who I will hug first and if they would have the patience to let me cling for awhile. Will they be soft and pillowy like me? Or will they be sinewy and firm, where I can feel their muscles flex against me? Will it be a romantic partner or a friend; do they know how to bear hug and truly embrace someone? Will they squeeze and grope or just drape loose arms over my shoulders?

Consensual objectification is fun and exciting in the bedroom, in play, in feeding sessions where those fantasies can be realized and brought to life. But it’s a whole different thing when it takes over waking life, when strangers on the street can see the fraying strings that tie people together.

It’s hard not to envy those right now who have partners and families residing with them. In a world where we are all alone together, so distant from our own neighbors and friends around the corner, I feel I’ve forgotten what it means to be with someone. To just enjoy quiet company together and relish someone else sharing space. Conversely, those in families and cohabiting partnerships may be itching for some space. There’s no right or wrong or win or lose; we are all in a world right now where there is too much of one thing and never enough of another.

I did not envy this couple; I pitied them. Their interactions clearly demonstrated at least on the surface what brought them together. I felt a pang of sadness for both of them. I thought about their story. What brought them together? Did they meet on one of the several feedist community and dating networks we are so familiar with? Maybe it was a passion neither of them were aware of until they were in the middle of it; something that almost always ends up in a broken heart for both parties.

Sometimes you see a couple and they are the walking definition of a power couple. They don’t even have to really hold any social or financial status, it’s just in the way they exist and carry themselves. With proud shoulders and in our cases, full stomachs jutting outward, buffering anything that dares threaten their security and senses of self, they make no apologies for the way they take up space in the world. They are powerful simply because they exist and know their own force of will to live the way they choose is its own magic. They’re secure and satisfied.

This couple across the street, waiting for the bus, was not that. What made me uncomfortable and unable to look them in the eye wasn’t the shame or badness of seeing fatness in public, the way so many fat people are silenced into hiding and self-hate. But it was that the man with his nervous and unfocused energy, at least in this moment, clearly only saw his partner for what she was: big and fat. I’m not sure if he even saw her as beautiful. The look on her face was the same one I would give myself in so many selfies in the early aughts: it was pain and sadness and self-despise. In that moment it was clear she did not feel seen or beautiful and my shameful glances away and inability to hold eye contact likely did not help.

I think about scenarios like this a lot, about the trust it takes for a gaining feedee to place into their FA or feeder, to be willing to subject themselves to that. Consensual objectification is fun and exciting in the bedroom, in play, in feeding sessions where those fantasies can be realized and brought to life. But it’s a whole different thing when it takes over waking life, when strangers on the street can see the fraying strings that tie people together.

I don’t know their whole story. It was just a few minutes on the street and we never exchanged words. I just observed and noticed body language and sat with the impressions it gave me. I could be dead wrong, even! Maybe they were having a bad day or got some rough news. Who knows? But something about their energy oozed off them like an infected wound that day. Something wasn’t right and it was impossible not to notice.

Fake Feedees Don’t Exist

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Some time ago on one of the more popular feedist hangouts, someone lamented about Fake Feedees™ and how the majority of feedees aren’t really there to gain or eat for feeders and they’re just there to… do what, exactly? Scam you for food… for them to do what with it?

Oh, eat? Okay.

If you have not already read it, now is the time to check out my post on why I am personally not a gaining feedee (spoiler alert: it’s because feedee is a mindset and activity, not a personality trait).

This is not going to be a long post, because the point is going to be rather simple: fake feedees don’t exist.

If someone is engaging in any consensual feedist activity, that’s not fake. Maybe the person is not meeting your expectations or is compatible with your desires but if they are participating in something that you both recognize as feedist in nature, how does that make them a poser? What’s fake about it? What are they misrepresenting?

Being a feedist of any persuasion is entirely subjective to each person. If that person’s place on the spectrum isn’t one that’s compatible with yours, that doesn’t make them “fake.” You are not the fatty police.

Thank you for reading my post today! If you enjoyed it, you may also be interested in my erotica or even a commission.