BijouBlog

Last week I tweeted a developing a story about a member of the gay bear BDSM community, Jack Chapman (who took on the name of Tank Haferpeten), who died at the age of 28 from complications that ensued after a silicone injection into this balls. Tank was a “pup” in a polyamorous community under the mastership of one Dylan Haferpeten, commonly known on a various social media sites as “noodlesandbeef.”
 

This group of guys fetishized muscle growth, changing their body from conventional bear builds to bodies that resembled certain types of superhero cartoon or anime figures: abnormally large muscles and other body parts, attained not just by working out in the gym, but by artificial means such as steroids and silicone.

Some have claimed that Dylan himself suffered from some form of body dysmorphia, a pathology called “bigorexia:” his body could never be big or massive or muscular enough, and he was willing to do whatever he felt he needed to do to make his fantasy a reality. Yet when this dysmorphia doesn't just affect the individual, but others, the fantasy becomes a literally monstrous reality.
 

Note I used the word pathology. Safe, sane, consensual BDSM relationships manifest themselves in different forms depending on the specific desires and needs of the participants, but the sources I have explored claim that Dylan's control of his pups took on abusive forms, including mandatory severing of family and friend relationships outside his polyamorous group (the pups had were only allowed to contact Dylan, and Dylan only, on their cellphones) and financial control (for example, signing over salaries to Dylan).

More tellingly, When Jack temporarily severed the relationship, Dylan sued him in small claims court for money supposedly owed, and he even refused to physically sever the collar Jack was wearing. When Jack returned to Dylan, he signed over an inheritance to him. (Three weeks later, Jack was dead.)

And in Tank's case, the most obvious abuse was the insistence on silicone injections, an unsafe, life-threatening procedure. (Some sources even claim that Dylan is connected to two more deaths related to silicone injections.)

What is even more disturbing is Dylan's attempts to cover up what actually happened, claiming Jack died from a lung problem caused by wildfires in the area (not going on at the time of his death a week ago). Dylan even concocted pictures of Jack in breathing gear. He also claimed Jack was alive when he wasn't. The death certificate, which has since been changed to reflect the true cause of death, silicone poisoning, first claimed Jack died from pneumonitis.

I'm not going to draw hasty, sensationalistic conclusions about some of the evidence I present above, but the story, even in sensationalistic forms that use terms like “sex cult” and “harem” which decry physically, socially, and psychologically healthy BDSM relationships, is profoundly disturbing on many levels.

There's a danger inherent in breaking taboos and living in insular communities that develop around breaking said taboos. Gay, bear, BDSM, leather, fetish, whatever: we are drawn to who we identify with and what we like, but a breaking of boundaries can result in a dangerous blurring of the boundaries that help define the dignity and self-worth of individual persons. In Dylan's case, his narcissistic pathology destroyed not just a person's body, but his soul and spirit.

On the other side of the globe, in Jack's native Australia, a mother, brother, and grandmother are grieving for their son. They don't regret that he was gay, or a bear, or into BDSM: they regret that a disturbed, dangerous individual who lacks a soul destroyed a whole, loving person.

Abuse is never OK. Never. It's up to all to us, starting at the local level, to watch out for each other. And social media gives us the power to do so on a global level.

 

I've often heard from many guys, both online and in person, that their tits are hardwired to their cock. Hardwired? That term could be one way of saying that the person gets hard when someone plays with his tits, but could it mean that the person's tits get stimulated when one plays with his cock? Both are probably going on at the same time, but in many BDSM scenarios, the tits end up being the first point of entry for painful and pleasurable delights.
 

Even in more vanilla scenes, one person often becomes the recipient of a tongue on a tit (and because it is male/male, one could argue the act isn't overtly connected to a cliched Freudian “mommy fetish," which is often why I use the word tit rather than nipple when I discuss its presence in adult sexuality. Nipple for me evokes baby items like pacifiers).

Yet, the tit-sucker could be subliminally craving some kind of nurturing comfort. Could be … Yet, if the tit is larger in size and even slightly protuberant on a meaty, hairy chest, the feeling of comfort, warmth, and ultimately that all-enveloping sweaty scent of a hot, dominant guy could be like a Liebestod, which is like sinking into a soft, fleecy sofa if the chest is hairy. Or, if the guy is muscular, the tit could kind of resemble the head of hard, firm cock.
 

Yet the tit-sucker could also be the dominant one, because in many BDSM scenarios, the top stimulates the tits in order to play with them. And play, in many cases, ends up becoming tit torture. In this case, the submissive bottom is sexually stimulated by various sensations the top wields to his tits. What is how an erogenous zone becomes not just a zone of comfort and pleasure, as above, but a site of the tortures of hell.
 

I can boast extensive BDSM experience; I've seen variations of torture ranging from a simple pinch between the thumb and forefinger to extremely painful metal clamps. And I've been the torturer far more often than the willing victim, I must admit!

Some of my favorite tortures that can drive that hardwired tit bottom to his own infernal love-death:

I take one larger-sized plastic clothespin (I found them at the dollar store), attach one to each tit, and keep attaching. Test the bottom's willingness and endurance (slowly and gradually, which complements the exquisite sensations), and you might end up with as many as six clothespins on each tit.
 

For those bottoms who enjoy sudden, powerful bursts of pain rather than slow, exquisite torture, I wield various sizes of riding crops. The type with flaps work well, because one can run the flaps quickly over each one to accustom the tit to further pain. A crop with a flat, round head will create a less painful effect because the surface hits the tit as one large, even surface; a crop with a thinner, elongated head will sting more. Vary them, but start with a softer, flatter head.
 

Metal clamps vary greatly in size and thrust; I start with ones that have rubber tips and can vary in pinching power. The key is grab enough of the tit to get a firm grip, but not so firm so one can't increase the intensity. Someone gifted me a pair of what look like scissors, but aren't. In the medical profession, they are called hemostat forceps, a surgical tool for stopping the flow of blood. They attach to the tit, and one can vary their pinching thrust by adjusting the spread of the rings at the bottom.
 

Variations abound, as variations of person's sexual proclivities abound.

And keep in mind that tit play doesn't necessarily mean getting out the admittedly nasty clover clamps on the first round; sometimes even gently massaging the tit of that hardwired bottom and not letting him orgasm for hours can end up being the means to the most blissfully infernal love-death for the top and the bottom.