Late-onset rapism?

A little background: I am transgender, and I had surgery a few years ago. I have some quite severe OCD symptoms from time to time. Not really sure what was going on with all of this, so I hope that someone is able to give me a little advice here.

Right, a couple of years ago, when I first became quite mentally unwell, amongst the plethora of horrible ideas that I had was the thought that I had unknowingly raped someone in the past. It was even worse than that - I also feared that I'd killed and cannibalised people, and all kinds of other disturbing stuff - but the fear of having raped someone was the most stubborn bad thought I had. It was quite irrational - I abhor any kind of emotionally-charged physical violence, and sexual violence has always been particularly sickening to me. Although the very idea was congruent with neither my nature nor what I knew to be true, I couldn't stop fretting about this horrible thought. I would push it away for a while, but the worries kept on coming back. I worried that people had wrongly accused me, just to be nasty, and, far worse, I worried that I might have actually done it, and forgotten having done so. (I didn't realise until some time later, but the onset of this worry seems to have coincided with an explosion of a variety of OCD symptoms.)

Well, I kept on worrying, and my worries were exacerbated whenever someone happened to say something vaguely suggestive that irked my fast and scatty head. For all my worrying though, I remained resolutely un-aroused by the idea of sexual violence. I wanted to track down everyone I was concerned about, to ask them if any such thing had ever happened, but then I started worrying that they might take the opportunity to lie about it, in order to make a fast buck from their embarrassing trannie ex. On top of that, of course, I didn't want to go upsetting people with silly and disturbing questions about horrible things I couldn't remember. Though it probably sounds a bit daft to some extent, it was a dilemma for me. I just couldn't stop worrying.

At some point, little more than a year after first feeling troubled, and much to my alarm, I experienced an involuntary swelling of the clitoris when I heard of a court case involving rape. I never encouraged the feeling, and it passed momentarily. I felt rather upset about my strange reaction to such a repugnant idea. It happened a couple more times during the weeks that followed. It didn't happen every time I heard about rape, which seemed to be plastered all over the news, but I definitely noticed a hitherto absent connection between the mention of rape and an involuntary swelling. I didn't know exactly what my clitoris was responding to, because I never imagined any kind of intimate details of the crimes that had been reported. It was just a worrying, undesirable reaction to the vaguest concept of the word, or maybe even just to the word itself.

I never contemplated any fantasy that encouraged this bizarre new arousal, but, one day, struggling to concentrate on a "normal" masturbatory fantasy involving a pretty young lady, my mind just slipped onto something weird. I thought of ######6 an ugly, nasty little bully, up the arse. I didn't feel attracted to him at all, but I did enjoy ######6 him, as a means of payback. I wasn't thinking about raping the man in question, but I'd certainly never set out to imagine something so mean-spirited. In my mind's eye, the ugly, little bully wanted it, because I was a more beautiful woman than he could ever hope to get close to again (he was actually simultaneously cringing and smiling as I ###$ him). I didn't like him at all, but I wanted to dominate this person, who had cruelly, needlessly attacked me in the past. The fact that I had felt nothing in any way positive towards the man made the whole imaginary scenario utterly disgusting to me. Never before had I put disdain and sexual arousal together in this way. It was shocking, and I was terrified that I was on the verge of becoming a monster.

However, what I found after that, was that I hardly thought about sex at all. I was suddenly acutely aware of the difference between sex and love, and I found that I could only feel suitably aroused by thoughts of someone I could realistically imagine being in a mutually loving relationship with. The possibility of me loving them, or them loving me, was not enough. It was imperative that it seemed plausible that we might love each other. It's quite rare that such circumstances come together for me, even as a hypothetical. Even when reciprocated love does seem possible, it doesn't usually take long to become an obvious dead end... and so, I have thought about sex very seldom since. I think that I can probably still enjoy sex very much, but only in a truly loving relationship.

It might, or might not, be telling, that those relationships with women that have impressed upon me most of all have been relationships with women who have been victims of rape. I was tormented by their obvious pain, for which I could ache in my own way, but with which I could not empathise. I felt furious towards any and every perpetrator of sexual abuse, inflicting all those people I loved most with a pain I couldn't touch. There was my mum (who must have had my broadest and deepest love, albeit not romantically or sexually). Then there was my first teenage dalliance with romance, with a girl for whom I had immense feelings, but with whom I never had sex, nor even kissed. And then there was also the very love of my life to date - the girl I would have sawn my legs off for, who moved miles, into a dump, to be with me, who taught me how to make love, and who was the first girl I ever felt I could ever share everything with. Actually, beyond that which had been openly discussed, I was so concerned about women being the victims of sexual abuse that I suspected another of my former girlfriends had been the victim of rape (although we never discussed any such thing). Some years later, my sister might well have been raped by several men, but I felt conflicted about her accusations, because a couple of weeks after claiming that someone had raped her, she was suddenly his great buddy, and I couldn't fathom it. I felt rather annoyed with her, because I'd felt very strong feelings of resentment towards the man she'd accused, and it was as though she was making a mockery of the pain I felt for her. What's more, she had rather a reputation for being a slag (which was totally deserved), and every other word out of her mouth was a blatant lie, so I couldn't really trust anything that she claimed as true. And then there were the sly, bitching comments made by one girlfriend one time, making me worry that a previous girlfriend had wrongly accused me of raping her. What a ######6 snake pit of sexual abuse, some real, and probably yet more imagined...I don't know how relevant all of this is, but, it's no small point that feeling, and carrying, and worrying about the pain of female rape victims was a very unpleasant aspect of my adolescence.

What else...? Oh yes. How might all of this tie in? As a kid, I was traumatised by being made to dress like a girl, I worried about being a girl, and about people calling me a girl, until such point as I, quite horrifyingly, found myself aroused by my deepest fear. More recently, I was traumatised by visions of rape, I worried about being a rapist, and about people calling me a rapist, until such point as I, quite horrifyingly, found myself aroused by my deepest fear. (The difference, of course, is that, however much it shamed me, my autogynephilic sexuality was never effective in stopping me from wanting to be a girl... conversely, I got close to, but never quite reached, a fantasy of rape, before it was killed off by its own abject tastelessness. It must be about six months since that disturbing instance of near-rape masturbation, and I've had no hint of it ever being repeated. Since that day, I have never responded inappropriately to any suggestion of rape.) And what other connections might there be between these various strands of fear, and shame, and sex, and anger? I don't know. Would this feeling have become worse if I had had male testosterone in my body? How might it be connected to OCD? Please tell me anything you might know!

Small correction: I do continue to think about sex a lot, but only theoretically. In fact, sex is one of my many undesirable obsessions. What I ought to have said is that I've felt very little arousal since that day.

(My original post needs all kinds of editing. The perfectionist bit of my OCD wasn't switched on as I wrote it yesterday. I am blushing to think that I'm not going to edit it.)

-- Sun Jan 25, 2015 2:43 pm --

Small correction: I do continue to think about sex a lot, but only theoretically. In fact, sex is one of my many undesirable obsessions. What I ought to have said is that I've felt very little arousal since that day.

(My original post needs all kinds of editing. The perfectionist bit of my OCD wasn't switched on as I wrote it yesterday. I am blushing to think that I'm not going to edit it.)

Are you continuing to use drugs?

Occasional amphetamine use. Moderate alcohol use, mostly social. No psych drugs.

Speed does fuel the racing thoughts, but solitude is a bigger factor. With people, my mind feels quite still and peaceful. On my own, I tie myself in terrible mental knots. I don't need drugs to think myself inside out.

Seriously, I don't think I put it across at all well in my original post, because I was a little wired as I wrote, but I do think that what I went through might be very typical of a particular paraphilia-forming process. Brought on by some trauma, fear and shame gnaw away at a person's mind until an unwanted sexual response occurs. It seems to be very similar to how I started cross-dressing as a kid. I was traumatised by being made to wear girl's clothes, and being laughed at, then being shouted at because I cried, and, a couple of years later, I found myself increasingly compelled to relive that shameful experience. If I had happened to experience some rape trauma when I was little (as opposed to the rather more insidious sadness and paranoia that I felt), then that could have easily turned out to be a key part of my sexuality. Thankfully, the weird rape-arousal only came to me after I'd already been castrated, so it wasn't able to take hold. (Similarly, I no longer have any difficulty ignoring the cross-gender arousal I used to feel so compelled to satiate.) I imagine that if somebody full of testosterone were to experience what I've been through during the past couple of years, especially the catastrophic trauma of such terrible, realistic visions, then they might well find themselves stuck feeling aroused by thoughts of rape, no matter how distasteful they find it.

It's hard to find any useful information about this sort of thing though. It's a very fuzzy, under-researched, enigmatic area of psychology. It would be good to hear of others' experiences, even if they're only very vaguely similar.

I wish someone would rape me.

Bully me enough and I might buy a strap-on