#force chef

[flattopfucker]

might make this a set but I wanted to post an edit

[flattopfucker]

the phoenix must relinquish his previous form to rise again

[flattopfucker]

Your shift starts in 5

Quick disclaimer: this isn't satire

DNI: minors, people not into forcemasc

Hi, I'm Q (he/she.) I'm a line cook, and a little tooo into my career ;)

I keep seeing forcemasc edits and thinking about my sous chef from 2 kitchens ago. I absolutely love my job and all the bullshit that comes with it, and find a lot of similarities between the kitchen and bdsm. Like come on, "yes, chef" after every instruction? Being degraded when you mess up a little? The absolute high after you don't fuck something up and your chef gives you a nod of acknowledgement? The amount of physical pain? please. here's a secret, every male chef you know is the most submissive man you'll ever meet. All the other genders are a mixed bag.

I work in a restaurant with high standards and expectations. I'm the youngest cook by 6 years.

[flattopfucker]

Extend your consciousness

[flattopfucker]

thinking about my first sous chef again.. thinking about how much pain I was in at the end of those 11 hour shifts and how much his "good work today" meant when I earned it and how his criticisms were always kind and never unwarranted. a soul crushing "get some sleep and do better tomorrow" would have me sitting at my kitchen table sharpening my knives, strategizing about how to push past everything that held me back. thinking about how he taught me that pain was the required fee for entrance into the upper echelon. thinking about how he learned some asl because of my hearing. thinking about the elation I felt when I was allowed into the fish cutting room to clean mussels. thinking about how my self esteem was in fucking shambles when I got there and by the time I walked out I had discovered who the fuck I was. thinking about learning how to break down and build myself back on a 10 min break. just thinking about pain and dedication and stress and pressure and meeting expectations and it not being enough because he wanted me to exceed them. thinking about the impossible tasks he set for me and how I'd do it. thinking about how that job restructured my brain and solidified the idea that u don't get rewarded for doing something easy. thinking about how he crashed out on me and told me that you have to love this job or it'll kill you. thinking about how he told me it would kill me anyways but if I loved it I'd get back up again. thinking about how I have gotten back up again.