Forgive my jumping in with both feat, as I have literally just registered on the boards here, but I thought this place might be a safe one to discuss what I'd like to bring up. I'll try to make this post short and to the point, even though I do have an unfortunate tendancy to bloviate to little purpose.
I have two specific fetishes, plushophilia (attraction to stuffed animals) and vorarephilia (enjoyment of someone being eaten.) I have had these for many years, I believe they started when I was 10 or so, when I discovered the joys of fur which adorned my top shelf :D. I'm simply put, not ok with this. I have had two relationships now, and 12 years have passed. Both of my girlfriends had to contend with the fact that I was sexually, physically, not interested in them, or very robotic when responding to them physically. I would honestly get board during sexual activity, so I always had music on so at least I could focus on something of interest to me. Naturally, this damaged our relationships. The vore fantasies, which are violent and of course, impossible in real life, didn't help. I remember so clearly my first girlfriend's comment that, "you've got a naked girl in your bed and you're holding a stuffed tiger..." I've never forgotten that, nor was I able to prevent the obvious arousal I always had at the touch of fur, or the talk of bloody torturous death, - arousal which she herself was unable to engender in me. I've simply had enough...I have tried giving this up, literally forgoing all sexual activity with fetishistic overtones. It has been done and I failed. Over a month passed, by the end of which I was almost unable to work, had very violent dreams and eventually surrendered to my interests. It does not help that the fantasies of the past fail to satisfy me. Vore is of course, text only for me, and I have noticed everything becoming harder, darker, more violent, and I have seen this pattern for several years now. Telling my longstanding girlfriend that I had thoughts of young girls getting brutally ripped apart by wild beasts was, to say the least, not an easy conversation. Just a casual depiction of such acts years ago now does not interest me, it must be harder, rougher, with more pain and torture than before, or else I am left board even by that.
To finish, I've had enough, and even the acceptance of some close friends of my interests - they saw the plush openly displayed around my room and I told them - has not prevented my own complexes. I want this gone, done with and I would like to have a relationship unencumbered by such bagage.
Where the hell do I go from here?