Too many posts of a more serious nature recently, it’s time to talk of some more fun things.
Perhaps you might call this my primary fetish – the original sin, as it were. I have been fascinated by high heels and women’s shoes for as long as I can remember. Some speculation is that it may have started very young from crawling on the floor as adults had a party. Women dressed in heels that were at my eye level.
I could also point out that I was known at a young age for waking up early the morning after such events and finishing off the spirits in leftover glasses. I’m not sure I would classify my liking for single malt whisky as a fetish, though it may have had a similar beginning to my fantasy for heels and at around the same time.
From what I can remember my earliest sexual awakening was around the high heels in the back of my mother’s wardrobe, the ones she never wore. The growing child could fit in them, walk around and for a time feel aroused.
Of course, it didn’t take long for my feet to grow beyond being cramped in those heels to not fitting at all and as such the fetish had to be pushed to one side. Never forgotten, though. Introduced to porn magazines my first gaze would always be drawn to the shoes. Something about the lines, the way they accentuated and extended the legs, the exaggerated arch of the foot and in a very Victorian way, the way they made the ankle erotic and sexual.
Although I left home at 18 it wasn’t until my late 20’s that I was in a position financially and privacy-wise for the fetish to be explored once more. Women’s shoes and heels in larger male sizes where ruinously expensive and hard to get hold of. Typically from classified ads in the back of specialist fetish magazines where you sent off a letter and a cheque and waited a couple of months for them to be delivered.
Ah – ancient history as far as the Internet generation is concerned. Calling in at the local postal depot at 5 am on the way to work to pick up a parcel that you hoped had not been opened or had embarrassing words on the label.
There’s an interesting and subsequently important thing with high heeled shoes as far as the male part of me was concerned. As a fit, they don’t work with socks. Barefoot they will become sticky with sweat that degrades the inner part of the shoe. Any initial arousal in resurrecting a heel/shoe fetish subsided in the name of practicality. And that practicality was the realisation that some form of hosiery was required to properly wear the shoes. Cheap supermarket tights or knee highs were the order of the day and lead to various realisations as time went by (you might say that these days I have a hosiery kink as strong as the shoes)
In other words, my fascination with heels was one of being able to comfortably wear and walk in them. Old perceptions of a fetish for masturbation long since discarded.
And that kind of sums up my journey through gender dysphoria, even though I didn’t know it at the time. The heels were a gateway to other things and sensations. From exploring hosiery to lingerie, to skirts, blouses and dresses the overriding concept to me was one of being comfortable in what I was wearing. I’d talk to others in chat rooms who would talk about intense erections the moment they felt the nylons or silk panties encase their skin and that certainly wasn’t me. My manifestation was a certain calm amidst the storms of my vanilla life.
The advent of the Internet was both a boon and a curse. Discovering eBay and being able to find larger size shoes at reasonable prices, even from abroad, especially the USA meant that I had a craving to explore every different type of shoe and heel I could find. At one point I had over 300 pairs of shoes – okay, call it a bit obsessive. All were different in various ways. Colours, heel height and shape and so many different body styles.
Last time I moved I disposed of maybe 200 pairs !!
Larger size female shoes are no longer a specialty sector. There are mainstream online clothing stores that have ranges going up to my size as women’s feet are growing on average. I’ve probably added about 70 pairs from that source and yet there’s nothing outlandish about the styles, they are real women’s styles rather than a kinky or sexualised emulation of female normalcy.
For maybe 20 years I would don shoes and clothes ranging for a few days at a time every few weeks, to every several months. Then, everything changed about 3 years ago.
An inadvertent trigger from the hypnosis set free melody’s need to dress, including the heels as the foundation of everything. It became important to dress everyday after work. It became important to be able to wear 4″ heels as if born to them.
That hasn’t particularly changed since then except that I now wear so much that’s feminine to work that I don’t often need to change when I get home. I can’t wear stilettos to work, but for the last year I have worn ankle boots with 4″ block or stacked heels. And you can’t wear those unless there’s hosiery involved etc.
I still love the joy of opening a shoe box. First the scent, then the rustle of tissue paper, then the appreciation of the new form laid out in the box. It’s always intoxicating. The trying them on when although I’ve come to more or less trust the sizing of my preferred online store, the question of will they fit properly or will they pinch ?
Being able to walk in high heels on a flat carpeted floor is one thing. Walking in the outside world is totally different. Venturing out in heels was always difficult, the sort of thing done at 4 am in the dark to alleviate a sleepless night. In switching to heels for everyday work my gait, stride and balance has changed immeasurably. I used to walk the circuit of the business park in about 1800 steps, I now take about 2200 and more time. This is not about being awkward, unsteady or cautious. It is the natural, fluid gait and stride dictated by the heels.
I’ve even been out in the wild of unkempt and rough pavement in stilettos as part of my public outings where the new found fluency from the block heels pays dividends in walking naturally.
Are female shoes and heels my fetish ? I’d certainly say that they were a very long time ago. They provided the impetus to explore dressing long before the realisation that dressing was a manifestation of gender dysphoria. However, each stage, from heels to full dress only had a very short lived sexualised component to it that soon became one of simply feeling comfortable. It’s so long since there was a component of arousal that I can’t consider heels, or dressing a fetish.
But oh yes, the sheer joy in browsing, choosing, waiting for delivery, unpacking and trying on a pair of heels. I know many women who relate to that and describe it in very similar terms, though sometimes they’re talking about chocolate.
If melody was at all manufactured, it was in a shoe factory.