Hot Fetish

I don’t normally write about other fetishes, but there was something on Twitter that got me thinking. Someone posted: "I tried finding funny fetishes but they're all really boring like balloon I already know it, why does no one have a fire fetish or a ww2 fet.” And I thought, “Fire fetish? There has to be a fire fetish. It didn’t take me long to find one, and so I answered the tweet.

But that got me thinking further. With a balloon fetish, most of the things that we fantasize about most, even if they scare some of us (me, for example), are unlikely to actually harm us. But someone who, as the poster at isitnormal.com said, fantasizes about having "sex with someone while both of our clothes and the bed are on fire and we are getting burned a bit but we don't care because we are having too much sex to care,” is unlikely to be able to fulfill that fantasy without risking lives.

But bringing that fantasy to life on-screen, in this day of cheap special effects, might be pretty easy. Not that I’m up for it (too many projects in front of my keyboard, thank you very much), but if I fetish producer wanted to go after that niche, he or she wouldn’t even have to actually set anything on fire. Which was not true even a decade ago without some serious computing muscle and expensive software. But if you have a Mac and Apple Motion, and are very creative with lighting and sound effects, you could conceivably create a sex scene with lovers literally on fire.

And for some, it would definitely be hot.

The Cover Saga

I have decided that I need to spruce up the covers for all of my stories. I started, naturally, with Blowing It! because it is both the oldest and the longest of the three. Although no one has complained about the cover design, I always felt that it should have a woman on the cover and not just a bunch of balloons. Having no easy way to shoot such a cover, however, I figured I had to get along without.

Then along came Fiverr. It was inevitable, I suppose, that someone on Fiverr would eventually offer to pose with balloons, and sure enough, a couple of young women have. One of them was commissioned by my book designer and publishing helper to provide a few photos to choose from.

What we finally selected for the cover barely shows the young lady at all, and yet the difference, with just that little bit of nose and hand and the black front of her blouse, is remarkable. It says so much more about the book than the stock image I used before. I am inspired enough to move ahead with changes for the other two stories, and to make sure that my next story, when it finally comes, is launched with an appropriate cover photo.

I hope that balloon lovers who browse the new covers will be more inspired to have a read.

“I Don’t Get It”

It seems that the most frequent comment I see about balloon fetishes from people who don’t have one is: “I don’t get it.”

I don’t know why balloon fetishes are any harder to “get” than any other fetish, but that’s not really the point. The point is that we shouldn’t expect anyone to “get” our fetish, or indeed any fetish, if they don’t have it.

Okay, maybe someone with a good imagination, or another fetish, might be able to see how we might relate to balloons. But really understanding how we feel? How could they?

We don’t even get each other sometimes. It’s not just the poppers not getting the non-poppers, either. I don’t get how anyone can be turned on by watching someone mass pop balloons with a pin. It’s a total turn-off for me, a waste of balloons I could pop in more intimate ways, and a lot of noise for nothing. I can intellectually understand how this could be a turn-on for someone else, but it will never make sense to me on an emotional level.

I also don’t get other fetishes. I accept them, at least those where no one gets hurt and everyone consents. But I don’t connect with them emotionally.

So, any effort on the part of us, the actual balloon fetishists, to get people to understand our feelings, much less share them, is probably a waste of time. Oh, I know, I’m guilty of it myself to a certain extent. I try to explain for the curious in my blog, and I’ve even been known to correct some misapprehensions among Twitter folk, but only if I think they actually give a damn.

But it’s an impulse thing, really. When I write my stories, I write them for people who have a balloon fetish, and perhaps for people who love someone who has a balloon fetish, for entertainment, and also to portray balloon fetishists as real people who have a life and feelings outside the fetish.

And, to be honest, in the tradition of writing what one knows, I write stories that reflect my fetish. Even my non-popping story (only one, but there might be another coming up) involves feelings I have about balloons despite the fact that I get sexual pleasure (and no other pleasure, really) from popping them. I’m not sure if I will even attempt a story featuring someone who’s into pin popping, or cigarettes, or stomping on balloons. By the same token, I’m unlikely to write a story about homosexual balloons fetishists. I just don’t know enough about it to do it justice.

Because although I can observe people whose fetishism, or sexual orientation, is different from my own and be accepting, understanding, friendly, and even loving, the truth is that I just don’t get it.

And I can be perfectly comfortable with that. Maybe it’s time we all were.

Fantasy Collides With Reality

Recently I noticed that the Slim Jim balloons, the lovely, 6-foot long balloons from Tilly, are back. I have always wanted to order a large package of these balloons, and I was really upset when they went off the market that I didn’t get the chance to have more than one or two to play with. I can get bags of 50 from Amazon.com or a wholesaler in Connecticut, and the price, for such unusual balloons, is not bad.

So why don’t I just jump on it and buy a bag? Because, frankly, although I’m very tempted to buy them, I don’t know what I would do with them. Balloons have three purposes in life. They can serve as decorations, as objects that I like to touch, or as sexual toys (preferably in contact with my lovely wife). Now I’m sure readers of this blog would have many suggestions of just what I might do with some big, long balloons, and I certainly have a few ideas myself. But the reality is that balloons this big would rarely get blown up in my house. They would sit around in a drawer for years.

Why? Well, for one because I am a wimp. Long balloons scare the crap out of me, and I have to get a lot of courage up to inflate them. Another problem is that I have no place to keep big balloons around, and I would really hate to pop a Slim Jim without having kept it around to play with for awhile. I even have trouble find a place to keep 16-inch rounds.

I do decorate with balloons, but I almost never get a chance to do that with anything larger than 11s, partly because I don’t have a lot of space, and partly because the smaller balloons don’t make my wife feel like I’m exposing my fetish to the kids if they happen to come into the bedroom while the balloons are hung up. Anything 6-feet long wouldn’t go over well.

And my sexual fantasies with them? Probably, if I’m being honest with myself, nothing that my wife would feel comfortable with.

It’s not the first time I’ve had this problem. I have a few 36-inch balloons in a drawer that may be too old to trust, but they’re there because I have some very specific fantasies involving those as well, and I have never had the chance to fulfill them. And even if I did, I’d have to pop the balloon soon afterward, because I definitely don’t have a place to keep something like that.

Perhaps someday, when the kids are grown and on their own, I’ll have a little more flexibility with big balloons. My wife and I do talk about it from time to time, and she seem amenable. For now, though, I probably have no use for bag of Slim Jims.

But, in truth, that doesn’t guarantee that I won’t buy them anyway.

A Real Writer

Okay, let me start out by saying that no one has ever said that, since I write fetish fiction, I can’t be a “real writer.” In fact, readers have complimented me on my style, and not just the balloon fetish content of my stories.

On the other hand, I’ve never had anyone interview me the way they do other writers. I’ve been contacted by people who want me to give an interview (which I’m happy to do by email), but they always want to interview me about balloon fetishes. I never get asked the standard writing questions, like “Where do you come up with your ideas?” or “How do you develop your characters?” or even “Do you write in your pajamas?”

Which is a shame because I do all of those things. Well, except writing in my pajamas. I don’t sit in front of the computer thinking, “Okay, how am I going to do the next sex scene?” I think about my characters and the situation they’re in, as it relates to their balloon fetish (or the fetish of one of the other characters), and I try to figure out how they would react, and how their feeling about balloons (but not just balloons) influences what they say and do. And, yes, even how they have sex with balloons.

And, sure, a very large part of the purpose of the story is to titillate readers who get sexually excited by balloons. But I think my readers also like to see themselves portrayed as real people with real lives to live outside of their balloon activities, and fairly run-of-the mill people at that, which you can’t usually get away with in fiction. But the balloon fetish offers the quirk—or flaw if you insist—that makes the character more interesting, at least for the intended audience.

Now, I know about this because I am a real writer; I don’t just write fetish fiction, I write other kinds of fiction under my real name, and non-fiction as well. I choose to separate my balloon fetish writing from all my other writing, not entirely out of embarrassment (although my family would be unhappy if I were too public about it), but so that the fetish fiction doesn’t influence readers’ opinions about my other writing.

So, I have chosen to put my alter-ego in a corner, trapped by his niche, not really so surprised that no one treats him like a "real writer."

But still hoping.

Balloons Everywhere

Summer is a time of year when I get to spend very little time with balloons. Not because I don’t think about it, but because the kids are home from school, and it’s hot and sticky and contact with latex just makes my skin feel even more hot and sticky, and so the balloons just never get pulled out and blown up. But it doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about them.

And seeing them. Everywhere. You know that phenomenon wherein the very thing that you’re thinking of seems to be all around you? It’s just because you’re paying more attention, of course, not because the Universe actually cares what happens to be on your mind. On the other hand, when it comes to balloons, that kind of thing happens to me all the time, because I don’t see balloons the way other people see them, so I notice them wherever they happen to be, even when no one else notices them. In the back of someone’s car, in a corner of the restaurant (I notice if the restaurant has a helium tank, even if they don’t actually have balloon around), even un-inflated balloons in a box behind a store counter.

So why do I seem to notice more balloons at this time of year, when I am deprived of actual contact with balloons? Well, I think it’s mostly because it bothers me so much more, and so the sightings stand out in my mind. But there’s also the fact that a few of the situations in which I see balloons in the summer are more annoying to me.

For one thing, there are water balloons. My wife tries to tell me (and I try to tell myself) that it’s not the same thing, that I don’t even play with balloons that small, that they don’t pop like air-filled balloons and so it shouldn’t bother me. But it does. I think it’s because small balloons (not necessarily water balloons) were an important part of my childhood play because that was often all I could get hold of. In fact, the first orgasms I had with balloons were with five-inch rounds and airships that were about a foot long, balloons I’d never consider buying today. But that’s what they sold at the market, and it was better than nothing.

As an aside, 9-inch balloons were my favorites in those days, when I could get them. They were the perfect size for stuffing into my clothing. Now I use Qualatex 11s and 16s almost exclusively.

But I digress. The other thing that comes out in the summer is something called a Balzac. It’s a cloth sack, originally made my Wham-O, now owned my Hasbro, and currently no made by anyone, that holds a balloon inside to make a fairly rugged play ball. I have to admit, that it’s a very clever idea. We’ve had ours since the mid-90s, and it is one of the prized playthings in my household.

And I hate it. I hate that I have to use one of my lovely 16-inch balloons for a play ball, that the balloons will get inflated, tied, and eventually popped, without me ever having seen it, much less played with it. My wife offers to buy official Balzac balloons for it, but it doesn’t make sense, since they cost about three times as much as the better-quality Qualatex balloons, and are hard to find. So I capitulate. But it makes my unhappy. (Though, granted, I do try to wrangle some extra balloon-play out of my wife by way of compensation.)

Summer will soon be over, and here in the Northeast I will come to regret wishing for its end when the snow has to be shoveled. But the air will cool, the windows will get closed, the kids will go back to school, and the balloons will come out of the drawer for my pleasure.

But meanwhile, they just seem to be everywhere.

Scholarly Source?

Recently—well, in fact, after May 29th of this year, I've been seeing traffic from Wikipedia on this blog. At first it didn't make sense to me, since the last time I had looked at the entry about balloon fetishes, there was no reference to me at all, which is how it should be, because I'm not (as I keep saying) an expert.

Although I guess I'm as much of an expert as any of the people who are claiming to be experts out there, so who knows?

But when I looked, there it was, a footnote with a link to my May 29th entry about the difference between kinks, fetishes, and fetishistic disorders. It follows the text:

"However, it is now in the DSM-VI to where a fetish is no longer considered as a disorder (except for fetishistic disorder where if the fetish interferes with the person's life)."

Ignoring the poor writing for a moment, linking to my blog to support this statement hardly seems rational. Especially because I was mistaken, partly. I think I read something that mentioned DSM-VI and the description of fetishistic disorders (I can't find my source because I was not writing a scholarly article), but in fact DSV-VI has not been released, and the definition I used was as from DSM-V, which was released last year.

Unlike the editor of the Wikipedia article, I have corrected my mistake.

If someone is going to edit a Wikipedia article, they should be looking for more authoritative source material than, well, me. It would be fine to mention my blog or any of my books as an example of writings on the subject, but not as a factual authority.

I am not a Wikipedia editor (and I don't have time to become one), but I hope someone will correct this error sometime soon. I want the entry, such as it is, to be as factual as possible, and including me as a scholarly source hardly serves that purpose.

There are a lot of Wikipedia articles that are lacking in factual information, written by biased people, which is why, in my opinion, the site should only be used as a jumping-off point. And since the subject of balloon fetishism is near and dear to me, I hope that everyone who reads the Wikipedia article about it will, if they have any interest in arriving at the truth of the matter, heed that advice.

And on that, you may quote me.