Monday, October 5, 2015

Fetishes of the Strange and Bizarre



Imagine with me, if you will, a vault where the deepest depravities of the human sexual mind are kept.  There, cloaked in darkness, their only reprieve growing from simple desire, do they manifest. 

Powerfully and, often, guiltily.

Until that point their lusts are sated.  

Only after, do they return to their cells, to that blackness.  We close them away with the inevitable invariably tugging at the back of our minds—that one simple truth which nags at us all:

Not a vault exists that can hold them at bay.

Paraphillias are the intense sexual arousal to particular objects, situations, or people out of the ordinary.  For those with a particular overwhelming sexual urge, keeping a lid on it can prove troublesome, if not impossible.  As Jesse Bering--author of Perv: The Sexual Deviant in All of Us--puts it:

“A paraphilia is a way of seeing the world through a singular sexual lens, and this lens can’t be easily adjusted, repaired, or even, in the absence of a lobotomy anyway, broken.”

Some paraphillias are rather common—like podophilia, or the well-known foot fetish.  Or they might make us laugh—like knismolagnia, the arousal to being tickled.  Others are downright creepy—necrophilia comes to mind. 

Still, there are those paraphillias that are truly strange and bizarre. 

Good, bad, or ugly, though, each paraphilia elicits a strong sexual response in a person that even they may not understand.  And today some of the strangest are exhibited for your examination.  So follow me through this vault of the depraved.  Follow me…

…if you dare.


Formicophilia




Most of us have some sort of aversion to bugs.  The other day I saw a spider and completely lost my mind.  I certainly didn’t consider touching it in any way, so I think it goes without saying I didn’t let the damn thing anywhere near my genitals. 

Formicophiles, however, derive their jollies from just that.

Formicophilia is the intense sexual arousal to insects nibbling and crawling on your fleshy bits.  Few researchers have delved into this bizarre paraphilia, which seems to have some roots in masochism and zoophillia.  For many of us, the sensation of tickling is the evolutionary response to being crawled upon by bugs; it is a panic response that reminds us ultimately of death and the grave.  It is that creepy crawly feeling, however, that gets the formicophile all hot and saucy.      

Anyone else suddenly feel all itchy?


Vorarephilia



I once knew a man with an odd fetish:

He wanted to be cooked and eaten like a stuffed pig. 

As if this wasn’t specific enough, this man proceeded to give me detailed instruction on how he’d like to be prepared—spit-roasted over an open flame, based in butter and seasonings and, yes, he wanted a juicy Granny Smith in his mouth. 

I wonder if he ever got his dinner date.

Vorarephilia is the sexual obsession with either consuming or being consumed.  For the most part “vore” remains constrained in the fantasy world of the paraphiliac and, of course, the internet. 

Still, one bad apple, right? 

Like Jeffery Dahmer, who was not only sexually excited by his victims, but ate parts of them as well.   
Vorarephilia also seems to be comorbid with other fetishes, like sadomasochism and macrophilia.  And let’s face it—if you’re going to eat a whole human you’re going to need a giant’s appetite.


Macrophilia



There was a video I ran across once called Macrophile Moon.  For those of you who don’t search for it yourselves (and I suggest you do), allow me to spoil it for you:

One full moon some guy becomes a giant.  One unwitting visitor becomes the plaything of this man, and sexiness ensues.  The graphics are shit and some of the scenes are just strange, including one where the giant is stomping on the little dude.  Still, I felt I got a nice range of the scope of the fetish…and some giant chub in the process.

Macrophilia is the arousal to giants, and, yes, it may involve a little “crushing,” or even a bit of “vore.”  Like the other paraphillias in our vault, macrophilia is usually contained within the realm of fantasy.  I mean, how does one actually become a giant?  Or shrink, accordingly?  Ah, if only we lived in some Wonderland that made our every desire manifest itself. 

Like others, this paraphilia sometimes seeps into the paraphiliac’s reality.  It may surface in the form of crushing small insects or animals, like “Anna B.”  According to Dr. Mark Griffith, Anna was “found guilty of being sexually aroused by crushing animals while wearing stockings and stiletto heels.”

Talk about specific.

But we all have our thing, right?


Pneumophilia



This is one to put the body-shamers to, well, shame.  Often referred to as body inflation, pneumophilia is the sexual arousal to blowing someone up, or being blown up like a balloon.  Since it is physically impossible to do so, most of this particular kink exists in the form of art, though a few movies that might tickle the pneumophile’s fancy spring to mind.

There’s that self-entitled, gum-chewing bitch Violet Beauregard in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.  Oh, and that weird scene in that one Leprechaun movie.

There is little research into this particular kink, though I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t interesting as hell.  The object of desire is usually female. 

Makes sense. 

Humans have long-since held the female form in the highest regard.  Some ancient art depicts the female body as full and robust, with heavy breasts and belly.  In fact, society’s narrow picture of how a woman should look would probably be a slight to our evolutionary predecessors.

Today, kinksters aren’t so inhibited by the restrictions of some taboos.  Tools exist to satisfy almost any kink we’ve got, including body inflation. 

And yes, you can be a blueberry!

Maybe you’ll find a macrophile with a crush fetish and make some sweet juice together.


Stygiophilia



Since Kim Davis has filled all our news feeds with her bigotry the past few weeks, I’m certain somebody out there has already dreamed up some sort of porn to put the poor woman through.  If not, allow me to contribute an idea:

After five days in the slammer, Kim Davis dies of an unsated sexual desire.  Upon her expiration she is transported to Hell.  The real Hell.  The one I’m sure she swears all this gay marriage stuff is sending America and the queers.   

Only then—burning and screaming in eternal damnation—is Kim Davis finally able to be sexually fulfilled. 

Enter the Pope…

Stygiophilia is the sexual arousal to, you guessed it, hell fire and damnation.  And after seeing how many vehement, public homophobes are getting caught on a cock out there, it makes me a bit giddy to imagine a preacher swaying salvation with a message of fire and brimstone sprouting a little chub beneath the podium. 
Makes sense, I think.  So many of our deepest sexual desires seem interconnected with death.  Or, rather, our fear of death.  And with Hell being the eternal destination for anyone with a little bit of sexual deviance in them, it follows someone out there is fetishizing it.  

It’s hot. 

Literally. 

And it’s also a great place to end our tour of the depraved.  Halloween is nigh, and I have a fun little list of blogs to scare and tantalize. 

So until next time my sexy spooks…

Sleep tight.  

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