6 Realities Of Life When Your Fetish Is EXTREMELY Weird

Either way, whether it's something you're born with or the result of some childhood event, you have zero control over it. Pick the "wrong" card, and now you can't function sexually without hearing a balloon pop.

But for others, it's fetish or nothing. If sex is going to happen, it has to be involved:

"I'd say it's necessary, because even though I might be sexually satisfied without fire, the thoughts of fire nearly always accompany arousal," John says. "Very rarely do I get aroused by something not-fire, but I have been satisfied fantasizing about other acts/fetishes that share parallel aspects ... Ultimately, though, I do end up working fire into the equation in some way."

For John, fire is the equivalent of nudity. "Some men (I guess) undress women with their eyes," he says. "When I see a woman that catches my interest, I set her on fire with my eyes, imagining how she'd look lighting herself up and playfully showing off her burning self, or imagining how I'd do the same for her as she watched."

It's hard enough to tell your partner that you like a little butt stuff every now and then. Can you imagine if you were a) into being set on fire, and b) you needed that in order to be sexually satisfied? It wouldn't be unreasonable to expect them to vanish in a cloud of cartoon smoke, probably to the nearest police station. After all, there have been real cases of vore fetishists murdering and eating folks, and many legal professionals still believe that childhood fire-starting is an early warning sign that you're dealing with a future psychopath.

So even though most people who have fetishes -- even the extreme ones -- are totally harmless, you still worry about what folks will think of you if they ever found out. "I'm 'gynophagic,' which is to say that I only get turned on by female prey," Lee says. "I realize it looks a little misogynistic on my part, but I don't think it's like that -- I don't hate women or not consider them people."

He emphasizes that he's not at all ashamed of his fetish, and he would have no problem telling people if it was something a little less murder-y: "I'm less worried about 'Jeez! He's a weirdo!' as much as 'Police! He's a weirdo!'"

John lives in a "very small town," and "all it takes is one self-righteous nutcase to not agree with your tastes and make a big deal about it ... I'm not a danger to anyone or anything, but I also realize how crazy it sounds to want to light people on fire and call it sexy time."

Surprisingly, though, the few partners they've told about their fetishes have reacted very positively. Lee says that one girlfriend "even got into it more than [he did]," and John's had two girlfriends who came to love being lit on fire. Isn't that heartwarming? Get it? Do you get it?

You don't get it, do you? See, it's because warmth is often associa-

As the saying goes, you can't make an omelet without burning off some dick skin. John has had a couple of close calls:

"Most of the time, I get minor burns, but a couple of times when I was young and dumb, things got out of hand." The most serious incident occurred when he was 15: "With all the wisdom, sense, and restraint of a pyrophiliac with a storm of raging hormones, I doused myself from the waist down in charcoal starter fluid, front and back, and flicked a lighter at my ankles. Instantly, I was a total human torch. The flames rose up all around me and over my head ... I dropped and rolled, but it was futile, as the flames were no match for my idiotic flailing. I then pulled a thick rug over myself and the flames seemed to die, but when I removed the blanket, I burst into flames again. I tried a couple more times and nothing ... I thought I'd never be able to put myself out."

This is the point when things started to get awkward, because burning alive is literally very hot, but man, it was also pretty hot in the other way:

"I stood up and walked from one side of the house to the other and into the shower. As I did, I passed the full wall mirror in the living room and saw myself on fire. It was incredible! About the same time, the flames flashed over to the inside of my pants and I felt a whoosh as they rolled over my bare skin, inflating my pants and filling the entire inside between them and my skin with fire. That was a real surprise, how it felt -- it was wonderful beyond words, and I was now burning out of control while trying to make it to the shower while having the orgasm of a lifetime ... I completely emptied myself into my burning pants as I put out the flames. I had burns and blisters all over my legs, especially on my thighs, and burns on my hands and arms as well."

Holy shit, that's way worse than any of our masturbation sessions have gone. Even the one with the microwave and the bologna ...

After John's teenage brush with the burn ward, he quickly learned how to not kill himself. "There are a few 'rules' to follow," he says, "Heat rises, so stay below or beside the flames and you can be there longer. Keep your head out of the flames so you don't breathe in fire, and if you do have flames in your face, hold your breath."

Your mother's advice to wear layers also applies here: John says that natural fibers are best (synthetics melt, resulting in nasty burns), and the best type of fuel is "90 percent or above rubbing alcohol. It's got low toxicity, a cool flame, and is not too difficult to extinguish, though the flames can be somewhat small." That last part sounds like kind of a bummer.

For putting fires out, "I keep blankets or towels within easy reach. Water can cause steam burns, and it also kills the moment. Going from the excitement of being on fire to wearing a bunch of soggy clothes kills a fire-boner fast."

You'd think this might be a conflict of interest -- they don't let vampires perform surgery -- but John insists that "it had nothing to do with my fetish and everything to do with the fact that we had a firefighter shortage at the time. Sweaty dudes in uniforms/suits dragging hoses around or digging wildland fire breaks is about as unsexy as it gets. There was no problem there."

And remember when Lee mentioned that people getting swallowed is everywhere in pop culture? Yeah, about that:

"Didja know K-Mart did a Halloween commercial where a woman is swallowed and in a bat's stomach? She spends the commercial talking into a camera as stomach walls squeeze on her and drench her in slime, and she's alternating between talking about the sales at K-Mart and 'For God's sake send help, I'm in a bat's stomach!' Yeah. That was awkward ... It's a little like watching a movie with your parents, and there's a sex scene, but nobody realizes it's a sex scene except you."

So if you ever notice that your movie buddy gets a little uncomfortable every time there's an explosion, just try to be understanding. And maybe skip the latest Michael Bay if you ain't trying to hook up. Nobody likes a tease.

Manna has a fetish for new Twitter followers.

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