Help...strange problem

[SaintGeorge]

Okay. I become aroused whenever I write now. In addition to this, it happens every time I hear the word "fat" or see a pillow or fruit. Should I be concerned about this, or should I just ignore it and act like nothing is happening? This is a really embarrasing problem. Any advice is welcome.

 

[marciadietrich]

You're 17 ... I don't think this sort of thing is abnormal at your age and most likely your concern or embarrassment might make the problem worse. Young men anything that gets their blood flowing (physical activity or mental stimulation even) it can get diverted down south.

Hopefully the men here will have some practical advice for you.

Marcia

 

[SaintGeorge]

Look, I'm usually a hymnographer, and I write prayers and such. I just let poetry flow forth from me. Here lately though, stuff like this has been coming out. It's the only concept I can think about. What's wrong with me and how do I get rid of this? Something seriously odd is going on in my subconscious mind. Lately, I've been having dreams that repeat this scenario or similar ones, and they always end with me waking up and finding my sheets soaked with fluid of the male kind. I can't even sleep with my rosary anymore, for fear it will be covered by this fluid. And yes, I've had health education. I know exactly what these feelings and dreams are--[bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse]. I'm talking to my priest about it, and have been talking to him. I was wondering if any of you can please help me though. I become absolutely convinced that writing this kind of stuff is okay, and that these feelings should just be ignored. Then they intensify, and I start writing poetry like this. After the poetry is written, I feel guilty. As I write the poetry, I unexplainedly become aroused, but never [bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse]. That happens, without fail, every night following the day in which I write such poetry. What is wrong with me? I feel absolutely compelled to write this junk!

​

Ingravescence





Molly gave the appearance of a youth, boasting not much more than one decade and a half of experience. Her shoulder length hair was an Irish red, a golden orange halo enveloping her pale, finely freckled, moon-shaped face. She had full, rose-colored cheeks, and pure blue eyes that seemed almost luminescent. All the features of Molly’s plump, feminine body were peculiarly petite, giving her a unique, childlike beauty. She had an aura of innocence about her, which spoke of naïve mannerisms, alluding to an ephemeral essence of glory usually found only in fables or fairy tales.

The room surrounding Molly was ascetic in the extreme, with bare walls, bare floor, and bare ceiling. She lay on a cold hard stainless-steel cot in the center of the room, and was dressed in horrendously oversized clothing of varying shades of blue, which sharply contrasted with her fiery orange hair. The only significant objects in the room were a pump in the corner connected to a semitransparent leathery bag twice Molly’s size, filled by a gelatinous fluid of pinkish-hue. A tube proceeding from Molly’s diminutive mouth was attached to the pump. It was by all means a very simple arrangement, but the reasons for it were obscured. Every so often, Molly would produce pitiful, heart-wrenching whimpers that resounded about the room, heralding the advance of that which she dreaded; that which would soon come to pass: the unknown. All she could remember was that in an instant, she had been snatched from peaceful slumber to confront some terrible, forgotten primordial fear.

Her eyes darted about anxiously. The atmosphere of this place mortified her. Molly recalled having been deathly afraid of becoming fat. She regretted her failure to be truly thankful for her thin, elegant frame. Suddenly, the cadent puttering of the pump echoed against the walls, and she gazed in horror as the gelatinous contents of the bag emptied themselves into her. Her stomach began to bulge, and the gargantuan shirt she wore became unbearably tight. Soon, Molly’s chest was engulfed by her ballooning belly, which now pressed up against her chin. The pump stopped. Her torso, roughly shaped like a hemisphere, was perfectly smooth, for it was too full to have protrusions or indentions of any kind. The rest of Molly’s body, dwarfed by her colossal abdomen, remained petite. She began to cry, her monstrous belly gently jiggling with her wet, puttering sobs. Molly felt helpless.

The skin encompassing her midsection throbbed with intense pain resulting from the sudden and profound inflation. Molly struggled to scale her mountainous torso with delicately small arms, resting them on her bloated stomach as pregnant women sometimes do. She moaned and wailed, rubbing her sore abdomen with dainty hands as she jerked her head from one side to the other. Molly was utterly humiliated, and imagined she looked quite ridiculous. It was as if an enormous pillow, radiating with warmth, had been shoved underneath her skin, and she wanted so desperately to pull it back out again. She felt like an over-inflated balloon, like a grotesquely plumped sausage. She sympathized with a certain variety of African ants she had once seen, who designated certain members of the colony to store nectar in their stomach until they swelled to the size of juicy, ripe grapes.

Slowly, Molly felt the fluid within her begin to coalesce and solidify. She desperately tried to roll back and forth in the hope that motion might stop the terrifying process, but found she found movement of any sort to be practically impossible under the tremendous bulk of her belly. She soon succumbed to exhaustion, and lay there on the cot, struggling for breath. Fortunately, the tube had retracted, and she could open her mouth to a certain degree. However, her corpulent abdomen pressed against her jaw, impeding its movement. In a moment of horror, Molly realized that the substance within her was fat, which had melded with her insides, effectively becoming a permanent addition to her body.

Molly could feel the warmth of her enlarged stomach against her arms. Eventually, she began to accept the fatty material plumping her. Molly’s huge belly no longer felt like a prison cell, but instead, it felt like a cushioned room of sorts. She embraced herself, and realized she had ultimate satisfaction. For the first time in her relatively brief life, she felt truly happy.

​

​

​

​

 

[Cosmic Charlie]

At 17 I used to get aroused at the sight of a lug wrench.


...Those were the days.

Yeah.

 

[marciadietrich]

There is nothing wrong with you ... you are a 17 year old young man. Your body is still growing and changing and preparing for full adulthood.

I hope there can be some practical advice from the men here, but I guarantee if nothing else time will cure your problem.



Marcia

 

[SaintGeorge]

Whilst this forum does fit the topic of my thread, I want advice from my fellow Catholics based on the teachings of the Church. I ask you to please move my thread back to OBOB for this reason.

 

[thunderbyrd]

you need to stop from writing awhile, IMHO. Get yourself some weights, jog, swim, take some cold showers and get out of your normal state of mind, because you are dwelling too much on all this. Turn off your television because it is continually presenting you with lustful images.

find something to do that occupies your mind in a new way. Resist the devil and he will flee from you.

 

[NiteClerk]

Ditto the fact that you are a 17 year old male. This is normal. I remember wearing a jock strap when going to pick up a g/f because I did not want her dad to look at me and see a big bulge as I'm taking his daughter out on a date.

Learn to live with it.

Pax;

Bob

 

[Chajara]

Hmm. Perhaps you have a preference for larger women? It happens a lot as you get older... my tastes have changed several times. I used to like tall skinny guys, then I liked beefy guys who were stocky, then I had a huge thing for pretty goth guys in eyeliner (Okay, haven't let that one go yet. ) At the moment I'm dating a short geeky dude who wears glasses.

In any event, some guys like skinny chicks, some guys like short chicks, some guys like blonde chicks, some guys like large chicks, some guys like... you get my point. We all have our things that turn us on. They tend to spring out of nowhere (I used to wonder what my mother would think if I were to EVER dare bring one of the goths home to meet her) and you sorta just gotta deal with it.

 

[Cristiano]

Look, I'm usually a hymnographer, and I write prayers and such. I just let poetry flow forth from me. Here lately though, stuff like this has been coming out. It's the only concept I can think about. What's wrong with me and how do I get rid of this? Something seriously odd is going on in my subconscious mind. Lately, I've been having dreams that repeat this scenario or similar ones, and they always end with me waking up and finding my sheets soaked with fluid of the male kind. I can't even sleep with my rosary anymore, for fear it will be covered by this fluid. And yes, I've had health education. I know exactly what these feelings and dreams are--[bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse]. I'm talking to my priest about it, and have been talking to him. I was wondering if any of you can please help me though. I become absolutely convinced that writing this kind of stuff is okay, and that these feelings should just be ignored. Then they intensify, and I start writing poetry like this. After the poetry is written, I feel guilty. As I write the poetry, I unexplainedly become aroused, but never [bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse]. That happens, without fail, every night following the day in which I write such poetry. What is wrong with me? I feel absolutely compelled to write this junk!

​

Esran
It sounds like you have several things going on right now. For one, it seems like your body is on overload with puberty. From what you wrote, it seems like this never happened before when you were younger? Like thirteen or fourteen??? If not, your body might be catching up. Who knows. But something you said triggered me as to what might be influencing you. You have the gift of writing, but you are writing things that arouse you--in this case, fatness. Find your triggers and DON'T write about them. Like I said, your mind might be on overload and when something makes you think about sex, fruit or maybe your fetish--fatness--then you need to focus your mind on something else. Use the gift God has given you to write adventure stories or life lesson stories or something that has nothing to do with your triggers. If you have questions, let me know. Good luck

 

[aric714]

Nothing to be worried about, everyone has there little "thing" that get them "excited"

 

[ascribe2thelord]

Look, I'm usually a hymnographer, and I write prayers and such. I just let poetry flow forth from me. Here lately though, stuff like this has been coming out. It's the only concept I can think about. What's wrong with me and how do I get rid of this? Something seriously odd is going on in my subconscious mind. Lately, I've been having dreams that repeat this scenario or similar ones, and they always end with me waking up and finding my sheets soaked with fluid of the male kind. I can't even sleep with my rosary anymore, for fear it will be covered by this fluid. And yes, I've had health education. I know exactly what these feelings and dreams are--[bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse]. I'm talking to my priest about it, and have been talking to him. I was wondering if any of you can please help me though. I become absolutely convinced that writing this kind of stuff is okay, and that these feelings should just be ignored. Then they intensify, and I start writing poetry like this. After the poetry is written, I feel guilty. As I write the poetry, I unexplainedly become aroused, but never [bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse]. That happens, without fail, every night following the day in which I write such poetry. What is wrong with me? I feel absolutely compelled to write this junk!

​

I wouldn't be scared about it. I once had a dream about a chicken ... that was really weird. Put it this way: dreams are by no means indicators of reality.

Sigmund Freud would be quite proud of you, son!

 

[ascribe2thelord]

Hmm... I think what may be your problem is Obsessive Compulsive disorder. Your description of the problems you have fit many of the symptoms.

You obsess about fatness and fruit, in a sexual way and can't stop = obsessive
You feel compelled to write these things = compulsive

It's pretty clear to me that this is what you're having. Pray, then take yourself to a psychiatrist. They have medicine that can help you with these thoughts.

 

[imperfectchristian]

The only way I have ever found to deal with sexual thoughts, feelings and fantasies is diversion. The teen years... I think it is pretty much immpossible not to think about it. If you fill up your time with activity (sports, job, hobbies, etc...) it does really help you not to think about it nearly as much. By the way...masturbation only makes it worse...personally I don't think it is wrong, but if your trying not to think about sex then it's not a good idea.