KNAPS INSTITUTE

"I'm afraid there is really nothing I can do for you." she said, unraveling her long legs to stand. After a dozen sessions and a small fortune of my money it seemed rather abrupt.

"Why?"

"Because you feel guilty about something you won't discuss with me."

She was right and I could only look down in shame.

"I want to recommend something new to you." and she wrote a phone number on a business card. "These people have a new way of treating which has been quite effective for some people and I think it may work with you." She stood to bid me goodbye, shaking my hand, and that was the end of my psychotherapy.

I walked down the hall feeling rejected, "By a shrink yet!" but I had only myself to blame. "I'll just forget the whole damn thing!" I vowed as I reached the elevator.

Days passed, but my problem, emerged again and I had to admit that I couldn't control it any more.

"I have to go." and dialed the number.

"Knaps Institute. If you're dialing from a touch-tone phone you may dial the extension of the person to whom you wish to speak at any time. If you are a referral, touch "1." If you are a returning client, touch "2." If you wish to speak to..." and the damn thing droned on until I finally got smart and touched "1."

"Please give the name of the person who referred you and speak clearly after the tone." There was a pause and then, "You can have an appointment at 9:00 AM tomorrow. If that is agreeable, touch "1" if not..." I interrupted the stupid thing by touching the "1" key and after listening to the address instructions put the phone down to silence wondering if I would be met at the door by a robot.

"Good morning." smiled the most beautiful receptionist I have ever seen.

"I suppose I'll be filling out endless forms now." I asked testily.

"Oh no." she said with a grand smile, "We're totally computerized. Come with me." I could have walked behind that girl for a mile, but then she could not have made it on those heels. They were spectacular, like everything else about her.

"How do you walk all day in those shoes?"

"Dress code." she whispered. Then a man appeared in the hall and she stopped, but led me into a small room with a computer on the desk.

"What were you going to say?"

"Oh," she looked a little nervous, "you'll find out."

The program extracted everything from me but my blood type and length of my penis, finally asking me to wait for a moment. In little more than that time a stunningly attrac- tive nurse in a white uniform appeared.

"Mr. De Veaux?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Come with me." and she led me farther down the hall and again I watched an articulated fanny jiggling along on another pair of spectacular heels, this time white. She pointed me to another room with another computer and an examination table.

"Now take off your clothes and put on that gown. I'll be back in a few minutes"

"Is this really necessary?" I asked.

"Yes." she said crisply, "It is." and the left the room shutting the door behind her. I disrobed, slipped into the white hospital gown and sat on the examination table.

Within minutes she returned with a small case about the size of a ladies makeup case.

"Now sit there." she instructed as she turned on the machine. I sat.

"Now spread your legs apart, wide apart." and she reached under the gown to grab my penis.

"You don't have to pee do you?"

"I uh..."

"Now don't be shocked, Mr. De Veaux. I am a nurse."

"Yes, and stunningly beautiful."

"Now just relax." and the lady began to knead my penis as if it were bread dough, but it soon became very firm.

"There." she announced apparently satisfied with its hardness, and at this point she opened the case and extract- ed a rubber vaginal simulator.

"What?"

"Just relax. Your going to like this." she said slip- ping the unit on me. It was complete in every detail, warm and slippery.

"Oh God..." I exclaimed.

"There!" she announced, "I told you." and with that she rammed it home and attached the unit to the seat of the chair. I was literally fixed!

She started attaching spot electrodes to my temples, chest and put a cuff around my left arm as well as one running from the plastic pussy.

"Just follow the program. Answer every question and tell it how you feel. It's fun." and with that she hit the "F1" key and the rubber vagina came to life.

"Oh my God!"

"Now don't touch that button again." she ordered.

"Why not?"

"You won't have to." she smiled, nodded her head and left the room. I heard a "click" and the door was locked from the outside!

The program began and it presented me with every type of woman, every race, age, color, body part, breast shape and size, legs, ankles, dresses, shorts, bathing suits, shoes, it seemed endless. By the time we reached the sev- enth level it began to play what I preferred, narrowing down my preferences. Then it started asking questions and when I lied I got a mild shock in my penis!

"Oh!" I yelled, but no one came and the screen admon- ished me no to lie again.

"OK." I typed. The machine was quiet and I began to sweat so I typed, "No more lies." and the screen said "Thank you."

The next questions were right on the mark and I con- fessed my deepest secret to this machine, something a psy- chiatrist could not get out of me and it did it in less than 30 minutes!

"Is this correct?" asked the screen and in a moment of ultimate desperation to keep my secret typed "No." and the jolt was sharp.

"Ahooo!!!" I wailed and the screen showed, "Let's try one more time." repeating, "Is this correct?" I typed "Yes" and quickly touched "ENTER."

"Now here is your reward." appeared on the screen and the rubber vagina came to life while images of my favorite kinds of women, dressed exactly the way I like them, played on the screen. It was wonderful and in two minutes I ejacu- lated and "Thank you." appeared on the screen. In a moment the door opened and the nurse returned.

"Now wasn't that wonderful?" she asked brightly.

"Yes, but is it legal?"

"This is medical/psychiatric diagnostic procedure." she said with confidence.

"Now what?"

"Now you see the doctor." she said as the pulled the rubber pussy off me, carefully tipping it back to avoid spilling the semen. She looked inside, and I was a little embarrassed.

"My, but it looks like you really enjoyed it."

I stood on weak legs and she gathered my clothing into a large beach type bag, then led me down the hall to an ominous looking door, but inside was a waiting room and another door. She knocked on it twice and it opened.

"Good afternoon, Mr. De Veaux." said the rather fleshy man with a beard. "I trust you've had a pleasant diagnosis."

"Oh yes..."

"Come inside, I'm going over your data." I took a seat in front of his desk.

"How long have you wanted to cross dress, Mr. De Veaux?"

It struck me like thunder and I thought I would faint, but there it was and I was glad. It was out.

"About two years."

"And you haven't done anything about it?"

"I'm afraid to buy the equipment."

"Embarrassment?"

"Yes. I've even thought of breaking into the stores at night to steal what I want."

"Most unwise."

"That's why I have to do something about it."

"Well there are mail order houses...."

"But what if I like it?"

"Wearing women's clothing?"

"Yes. Doctor, I want a cure."

"We can take care of that tomorrow. I need your physi- cal measurements."

I listed every physical dimension I had from hat to shoe size, and everything in between.

"See you tomorrow at 9:00 AM."

I fairly floated home feeling my nightmare was soon going to end. The curiosity and obsession I had with women's clothing would soon be gone, "Thank God!" I said aloud.

The next morning came none too soon and I was elated, but beginning to wonder of what this "treatment" would consist. I had signed a thick agreement that mentioned something about "aversion therapy" and wondered if this meant more electric shocks.

"God I hope not." I said to myself as I nervously put my hand on the office door.

"Good morning, Mr. De Veaux." the receptionist said cheerily. "Just take a seat."

I didn't have long to wait when that stunning nurse appeared and said, "Come with me." I followed her down the hall like a puppy, amazed she could move that quickly on four inch heels. She directed me into a dressing room with new boxes of clothing on a table and a hospital gown on a hanger.

"Take off your clothing and get into that gown."

"Again?"

"This'll be different." she said firmly and shut the door. I was in the gown in a few minutes and wondered if I dare look in the boxes, but she returned with an electric razor.

"Sit down. We need to shave your legs."

"Why?"

"Well, you can't wear nylons with hair on your legs."

I was stunned! This was it! She went to work with the razor. In minutes my legs were bare and feeling very strange.

"Now take off the gown." I did without complaint and she shaved my chest!

"Now stand up." she ordered and went to the first box pulling out a corset.

"What?"

"We have to make you look like a girl and this will do it." she said as she wrapped the garment around my waist.

It felt funny and with the stocking hangers dangling from the bottom and the breast cups on top it was all very strange.

"Now the breasts." she said opening another box that contained two foam rubber forms. She peeled an adhesive protector from the base of one and stuck it on my chest.

"It feels funny."

"You'll get used to it." she said sticking the other one in place.

"Now we need to tighten things up a bit." she said, moving behind.

I could feel the garment tighten around me as she went to work on the laces and I could see my waist shrinking with each pull.

"That's be enough for now. Sit down and we'll do the hose."

I became very nervous as this was one of the sensations I was most anticipating and I started to get an erection which she immediately noticed and flicked it painfully with her forefinger.

"Bad penis." and it went limp.

"Did they teach that in nursing school."

"Yes. Now lift your right leg." and she rolled the stocking on it.

"Wiggle your foot and pull it on." she said directing my fingers to the top.

"Now lift your left leg." and she repeated the process.

The sensations were strange as I felt the sheer materi- al sliding around my ankles and knees.

"Stand up and we'll hitch you up."

She did one side as I fumbled with the other, but in a minute all four stocking hangers were in place and adjusted.

"Now rise on your toes and move a bit just to get everything in place." and I complied while she reached for the shoe box and my heart began to pound.

Call it a shoe fetish, or whatever, but I have always been fascinated by high heels and wondered what they felt like. That women would wear them but complain about them so much seemed bizarre to me. What is it that's so special about them?

"Aren't they beautiful?" she said lifting one pump from the green tissue wrapping.

"Perfect." I muttered as my eyes gazed over the curves of the classic pump. It was just perfect and had a tall, slim four inch heel!

"It's too small." I said in panic.

"They just look like that. You'll see. Sit down."

I was trembling. To think the shoe was for me was making me tremble. So long had I anticipated what they would feel like, and now I would know! I put up my right foot. She slipped it on with an audible "gulp" as the silk lined form swallowed my foot, gripping it with authority. I put it down and she slipped the other one on my left foot and I put it down too.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed as strange sensations gripped my feet.

"You're not even standing yet." she laughed. "Come on... Get up." she said, giving me a hand.

I rose and stood in utter disbelief. High heels feel nothing like they look when you're in them. The overwhelm- ing sensation is the vice grip on your toes. Then you feel the sole contact with the outside margin of each sole and then the strange little pressure spot in your heel area, a virtual reflection of the tiny heel touching the ground. It feels like a pencil pushing into your heel just to the outside of center in each foot.

"How do they feel?"

"Strange."

"Walk."

I took a few steps and then the real feelings of "heels" hit me: The entire force of my weight came to bear on the ball just behind my big toe and it was as if the rest of my foot were not functional. My only contact point was in this joint, and the pressure on it was enormous with each step.

"Put each foot directly in front of the other." she ordered, "You look like a dyke with that left-right, left- right walk. The skirt will help to train you." and with that she pulled a short black skirt from a box and handed it to me.

I opened it and with wobbling difficulty managed to step into it. Then she moved behind and began working on the laces.

"Oh," I groaned, "not so much."

"We need more than that." and she set to it as I tried, and failed, at wiggling my toes.

"Please." I begged as the garment gripped like giant fist squeezing me.

"Just a little more." and she finally finished.

"Now the blouse." she said, handing me a white shirt- like woman's blouse. I slipped into it and got it under the skirt, resnapping that in place.

"OK, makeup and hair. Sit over here." she said direct- ing me to a mirror.

In a matter of minutes she painted me to the point where my mother would not have recognized me with "pancake," lipstick, eyeshadow, eyelashes and then two snap-on earrings that pinched like sin.

"Ouch!" I wailed to no avail as she pulled the wig out of the box and in a moment I was a long-haired brunette.

"My God!" I exclaimed, "I cannot believe it."

"We have to work on the voice." she said with a smile, but then ordered, "Stand up. We're going for a walk."

"Where?"

"Outside."

"No."

"Don't worry. No one will know."

She led me down the hall and everything jiggled when each foot came down.

"Oh God! Everything's moving."

"That goes away in a while."

We continued down the hall and to a room labeled "Dr. S. Jones." and she opened the door.

"This is Miss De Veaux, Dr. Jones." and I saw a stun- ningly attractive, big woman, perhaps my size or bigger!

"Well done, Cynthia." and the nurse left.

"Come in and sit down. And, please call me Sylvia."

I did and automatically crossed my legs, shocked to see my own foot in a pointy pump.

"How do you feel?" she asked with a smile.

"Nothing like I thought. The discomfort of all this stuff."

"Now do you see what we do for men."

"Every man should have this experience."

"I don't think so, but we're hear to deal with your obsession."

"Can you?"

"Yes." she said and reached in a desk drawer for a pair of feminine sunglasses, handing them to me.

"Put these on, we're going for a ride."

"In a car?"

"Yes, and don't worry. No one will know. The windows are smoked."

We walked down the hall to the rear of the building and my feelings were not to be believed. It was strictly jolt, jiggle, jolt, jiggle, jolt with every step as my butt bounced, tits wiggled and vision rattled. With the corset squeezing my guts I couldn't breathe properly and became breathless. As the door opened I put on the sunglasses and stepped out to the gated parking garage glad that not a soul was in sight. But, after two steps, I dragged a heel noisi- ly.

"Lift your feet." she ordered.

"I will." I said meekly as she led me to the car, opening it.

"Now turn around and put your butt in first. Sit carefully, put both feet together and bring them in togeth- er."

I accomplished the maneuver and was proud of myself but then had to experience the discomfort of wearing a corset in a low car seat. I could barely draw a breath, and my heels put my knees up to eye level so I put my feet out straight.

"Don't scrape the backs of your heels." she warned.

"My God." I said, "There's so much to think about."

Dr. Jones entered the car with great skill and the respect I now had for anyone able to navigate in all this gear was now enormous.

"Oh Dr. Jones," I begged, "I think I'm almost cured already. I had no idea... No idea...."

"Well, we want to be sure." she said as she started the car and hit the remote control for the electric gate.

As we rolled through the gate and I could see people on the street I felt a wave of pure panic.

"Oh Jesus!" I whispered. She looked at me and smiled.

We rolled down the street slowly and my heart was pounding. What if someone ran into us? What if we were stopped by a cop? What if the car ran out of gas? Would I have to walk back to the Knaps building? Would I pass?

"Where are we going?"

"To a place where we can walk."

"No."

"Don't worry. There won't be anyone around."

Soon we arrived at the gate of a large, private ceme- tery and she touched another control to open the gate, which closed with a great "clank" after we passed through.

We drove along winding roads up a hill to a flat area overlooking the city. In the center there was large mauso- leum and we parked in front of it. She opened her door.

"Let's get out." she ordered and I pulled the handle, then with both feet together managed to get both legs out of the car and stand. Immediately the pain of high heeled pumps was mine.

She moved fluidly around the car and I could only admire her skill. I was afraid to move, but welcomed the little breeze that took some of the heat I was accumulating from nylons, corset, makeup and long hair.

"It's hot." I said, and she ignored it.

"Let's walk." she ordered and we began to stroll down the one lane road curving through the green lawns dotted with small, flat grave markers.

"Peaceful, isn't it."

"Yes..."

"Now how did this all begin?" she asked.

Slowly as we moved in lock step, I looked down in disbelief at what I saw and felt.

"Who were the first women you saw wearing high heels?"

"My teachers. I guess..."

"Did you like them?"

"I respected them."

"Were you afraid of them?"

I waited a long time to answer because the question caused me to wince.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"They paddled us."

"When you did something wrong?"

"Yes."

"Do you realize that now you are doing something wrong?"

"Why is that?"

"You're not a woman? You've intruded on our secrets."

"Oh... Is that so bad?"

"Yes, because you'll never understand what it really feels like to be a woman. It isn't just clothing."

"What do you mean?" and we continued at a slow pace, walking and talking. I was just beginning to feel in tune with all this and she was telling me I could never be.

"Why do you think we wear high heels?"

"For men?"

"Yes, but we actually do feel sexy in them."

"Why?"

"Before the invention of the bed men and women did sex standing up."

"Dog style?"

"Well," she frowned, "I suppose, but in order to make the parts come together women, who are usually four inches shorter than men, had to stand on their toes."

It struck me like thunder. I could see it clearly.

"When women wanted to announce their desire they would prance around on tiptoes, usually in private, and the men would respond." she said with a smile and then her expres- sion became firm. "You're offering something you cannot deliver and intruding where you shouldn't be."

"And the cure?"

"You should be punished." she said with authority.

"OK."

"Let's go back to the car."

We returned to automobile and I felt a rise of rising anxiety. She opened the trunk and a case inside which contained a pair of handcuffs and a two foot long hardwood paddle with a high gloss finish.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes." I gulped.

"Put your arms behind you." she ordered and I did as if a prisoner feeling I had no choice as she was very much in charge. The cold steel bracelets ratcheted shut and my stomach sank.

She took the paddle in hand and suddenly I felt like a small boy back in elementary school

"Let's go inside." she gestured with the board in the direction of the mausoleum.

As if it weren't difficult enough to walk in heels, having my arms pinioned behind me made it almost impossible and I wobbled with pounding ball joints and crushed toes while my ankles trembled from side to side.

"I'm scared!" I cried.

"This is what you need."

We entered the stone building in a cascade of echoing high heels and at the end of the building was large mirror with the image of two women, and one was me.

"Go the cross." she ordered and I wobbled to the ter- razzo cross in the center of the hall.

"Turn around and face the door." she said as she unbut- toned my skirt and dropped it to the floor.

"Step forward and put your feet on either side of the cross." and I did, spreading them about two feet apart.

"Now bend over." and I did.

"Deeper." and I did until I could see our reflections in the mirror.

I saw her bring the board up and touch it to my bare butt, and I tightened in reaction, then she took a backswing and then:

"SPLAT!"

The paddle hit with enormous force, but I didn't feel anything immediately, but before the echo was gone the stinging started and the second swat landed.

"SPLAT!"

"AAHHOOO!" I yelled and she screamed, "There bad boy! You'll learn better than to wear girl's clothing!"

"SPLAT!"

"OHH!!!" I moaned and tears poured from my eyes, but I saw her left heel lift again. It was coming again!

"SPLAT!"

"AAOOOO!" I screamed as mucous gushed from my nose and she yelled, "How dare you wear high heels!"

"SPLAT!"

At this point I lost control of my bladder and peed on the floor. This seemed to infuriate her and I saw her whole foot come off the ground!

"WHAP!"

It was gigantic and I responded with a great fart! "Oh!" she exclaimed as she started another backswing and

"WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!"

She gave me three quick ones and then I lost all con- trol and shit.

The last three swats were delivered slowly and meaning- fully with her admonitions that I never be seen in women's clothing again. The stinging was beyond anything I'd ever felt in elementary school and I was faint from the lack of breath, my gagging and gasping.

"That's enough." she announced, lifting me by one shoulder, then turned me around and removed the handcuffs. Somehow I managed my elementary school paddling protocol and said, "Thank you, Dr. Jones." as she handed me a handful of Kleenex from her purse and I stood there trying to compose myself as tears continued to pour from my eyes.

"What about?" I nodded to the lump of shit and puddle of urine.

"The grounds crew will take care of it." and she looked around the marble room. "Rather a nice setting for a spank- ing, don't you think."

"Enough to raise the dead." I managed to joke while my butt continued to burn as if on fire.

"Let's go." she ordered, "We have a couple more things to do."

We started to walk and with every slap of my toes the jolt of a high heel sent a virtual electric shock through my butt.

"Oh God!" I exclaimed.

"Stings doesn't it." she commented proudly, gesturing with the handsomely finished paddle.

"Terribly."

At the car she opened the door and I sat carefully, but when my weight was down the pain was so great all I could do was cry.

"Oh God, does it hurt." She said nothing and I could feel every bump and ripple in the road, but seeing people walking down the street brought panic back and fears that something would impede our return to the Knaps office.

"Here we are." she announced as we approached the gate and she touched the electronic actuator. My pulse slowed as we rolled into the company parking garage and I heaved a sigh of relief as the gate clanked shut.

"Thank God."

With great care I opened the door, put both feet to- gether and emerged from the car with something that almost resembled smoothness, but with stinging butt, crushed toes and squeezed waist I could hardly wait to get into the building and out of this outfit.

"Come with me." she ordered, "We have the final phase and then you can go."

As we entered the building the nurse was waiting by a door and she beckoned to me.

"Go to her and do what she says." Dr. Jones ordered.

With difficulty I walked to her and she led me into the dim room. At first I couldn't see, but then fixed to a table I saw the form of a vaginal simulator.

"What?"

"This is the final phase." she said, "Lift your skirt."

"What is this...." I started to ask as she began to massage my penis. In a moment, and in spite of so much hurting, I was erect and she maneuvered me into the device.

"Oh..." I groaned on feeling it. It was wonderful.

"This won't take long." and she turned the machine on. The undulations were more than I could bear and in two minutes I was coming.

"There..." she said in a motherly tone, kissing me on the cheek like a child she was potty training, but in that instant I suddenly got the "final message."

"What am I doing in this?" I exclaimed, realizing that I wanted out of the clothes instantly.

"Please help me get it off." and I yanked at my wig.

"I'll help." and she did, one item at a time: The wig, skirt, the blouse, the corset. Finally, I stepped out of the pumps, pulled off the stockings.

"Oh God, I feel human. How do you do it?"

"It's right for us...." she said, reminding me of the great lesson I had learned and she set to putting all of the items in a large packing box.

"De Veaux is D-E-V-E-A-U-X?"

"Yes, but why are you writing my name on that box.

"Oh," she said, "you'll be back."