I have a fantasy of being institutionalized for one reason or another. But, here’s the thing, it’s just as glamorous as this. There’s no pills, no emotional trauma, no group therapy, no straitjackets. There’s just me, a couple of nurses, and a bed with plenty of straps and buckles. It usually ends with them taking turns at sitting on my face, giggling and shoving each other aside to get on my mouth.

WARNING, RANT STARTS HERE:

One issue I have with my kinks a lot of the time is how they are watered-down versions of actually really terrible things. Institutional rape happens. Kidnapping happens. People wind up with their significant other’s hands around their throats. They wind up being tossed to the wolves (so to speak) and thrown into sex with a ridiculous amount of partners simultaneously. It’s not glamorous. No one is giggling.

Where I am working at my internship right now, I’m encountering women who have fallen victim to a few of the things, and several other ills of society that don’t wander into my sex life, that I fantasize about. And I cannot help but sit there sometimes and feel terribly guilty for glamorizing and sexualizing things that absolutely traumatized them.

Sometimes I run into a moral dilemma on having these fantasies and, moreover, indulging them. You’re stuck differentiating between what is a purely consensual act and what is a crime against humanity, society, etc. Moreover, if I am acting in imitation of an act, such as institutional rape, I am not only acknowledging its existence, but attributing my own “fun” to its existence. And maybe I’m taking it too far. Maybe I’m getting too introspective.

But, then there’s the issue for me of posting stuff like that on my tumblr. Not too long ago, a group of black men watched Mississippi Burning and, inspired, walked across the street and beat a little white boy to death. The issue was brought up if Mississippi Burning was to blame at all for the actions taken by this group of men. Of course, one could argue that it’s the same sort of misinterpretation that lead Catcher in the Rye to be misread, causing John Lennon to be shot. We can blame the person’s own insanity for the actions, of course, but can we also blame the incendiary material as well for sparking the insanity? You don’t give a serial killer a freaking box-cutter and diplomatic immunity.

So, I wonder, as I make posts about all sorts of forced sexual interaction, which of course exist in a consensual frame for me, who is reading it and what they are doing it. I’m in no way as influential as JD Salinger or the creative staff behind Mississippi Burning, but, nonetheless, my fantasies are on the Internet and they have the propensity to be misinterpreted. 

I don’t know if this is a rant, a self-criticism or an attempt to cover my ass. But, I suppose I need to say that what I write here is purely fantasy that exists in a frame of consent, willingness, and trust. While I still have not been able to reconcile that with the actual acts that go on and what my endorsement of a glamorized, watered-down version of them might entail, I in no way encourage the acts.

Rant over. Thanks for sticking around.