Yes. Not because of my direction of attraction, but because of my kink.
I have rape fantasies. (And I like incest as an idea but no actual incestuous attractions).
They started to come, though I imagine I had a predisposition even prior, with a French movie where a woman expecting her boyfriend is instead assaulted by some thugs who had been harassing them. I was eight or so, and I felt this knot in my stomach, this fascination.
After that, everything from the hand over Sigourney Weaver's mouth in Ghostbusters to a rape scene in Deathstalker would give me that sensation.
I was looking at pornography when I was young, which led some peers and even my best friend to criticize me. I was masturbating around the fifth grade.
I've been a lifelong feminist. I've wanted to be the good guy. But there was a part of me that really felt like it wanted to hurt someone.
Fearing that part of me gave it power. The guilt gave it power. The feeling that I was a time bomb, building up goodwill to cash when I finally exploded, gave it power.
Exploring that fantasy consensually with others, as well as meeting actual rape victims, made me realize some things very rapidly:
Even thinking of really hurting someone, with words let alone with my fists or my sex, killed me inside.
I wanted to own something beautiful.
I wanted to be able to turn back time and protect the beautiful.
So today, I have no guilt. I have no fear. I know that the fantasy I have is exactly akin to the fantasies of action movie violence: It has the same shell but the beating creature underneath it is unrecognizably different. In fact, it's exactly the part of me that is a feminist and hates rape that makes it so fascinating.
And I am finding that, having explored that part of myself, the fascination is fading.