nytklee
Registered User
- Joined
- Apr 5, 2025
- Messages
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After therapy (1/3) (fm/m, m/m, crossdress, nylon, noncon)
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Daniel stood in the dimly lit waiting room of Dr. Elise Harper’s office, his fingers nervously tugging at the hem of his plain gray sweater. Underneath, hidden beneath the baggy jeans and scuffed sneakers, a pair of sheer, glossy pantyhose clung to his legs, the delicate nylon whispering against his skin with every shift of his weight. The faint outline of a lacy garter belt pressed against his thigh, a secret he’d carried for years—along with the towering stilettos and slinky dresses stashed in the back of his closet. He’d always loved the feel of it all, the way the fabrics hugged him, transformed him into someone bolder, sexier. But lately, that thrill had soured into a gnawing ache. He wanted out. A normal life. Whatever that meant.
The door swung open, and Dr. Elise Harper stepped into the room, her presence hitting him like a jolt of electricity. She was stunning—sharp cheekbones, full lips painted a deep crimson, and piercing green eyes that seemed to see right through him. Her tailored red blazer and pencil skirt screamed professionalism, but they couldn’t hide the curve of her hips or the endless stretch of her legs, encased in sleek, semi-sheer pantyhose that caught the light as she moved. Her black pumps clicked against the hardwood floor, the sound crisp and commanding. Daniel’s breath hitched, his eyes lingering on the subtle shimmer of her nylons before he forced them back to her face.
“Mr. Carter? I’m Dr. Harper. Please, come in,” she said, her voice smooth as silk, with just a hint of a playful edge. She gestured toward her office, and he followed, hyper-aware of the rustle of his own hidden pantyhose beneath his jeans.
The office was modern, all clean lines and leather furniture, with a faint scent of jasmine lingering in the air. She motioned for him to sit on a plush chair across from her desk, and as he sank into it, she perched on the edge of the desk itself, crossing her legs with a slow, deliberate motion. The soft hiss of nylon against nylon sent a shiver down his spine.
“So, Daniel,” she began, tilting her head slightly, her crimson lips curving into a faint smile. “What brings you here? I don’t bite—unless you ask nicely.”
He swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “I… I’ve been struggling with something. Something personal. I don’t know how to say it.”
Her eyes narrowed, but not unkindly. “Take your time. I’m here to listen. And trust me, I’ve heard it all.”
He shifted in his seat, the pantyhose tugging faintly at his skin. “It’s… I like to dress up. In women’s clothes. Dresses, heels, pantyhose. I’ve done it for years, and it used to feel good, but now it’s like… I can’t stop, and I hate it. I just want to be normal.”
Dr. Harper didn’t flinch. She leaned forward slightly, her blazer pulling tight across her chest, and tapped a manicured nail against her knee. “Normal’s overrated, don’t you think? But I get it. You feel trapped. Like it’s not a choice anymore.”
“Exactly,” he said, relief flooding him that she hadn’t laughed or judged. “Can you help me?”
Her smile widened, a glint of something mischievous flickering in her eyes. “Oh, I can help. But my methods are… unconventional. I believe in breaking patterns through experience. Physical experience. You up for that?”
He hesitated, his heart pounding. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say I like to push boundaries to reset them. I’ve got an idea, but it involves another patient of mine. Someone with his own little… obsession. Are you open to something a bit wild?”
Daniel’s stomach flipped, but he nodded, too intrigued—and too desperate—to say no.
Later that week, Daniel returned to Dr. Harper’s office, his nerves buzzing. She’d told him to wear something “comfortable” under his clothes, and he’d chosen a pair of black seamed pantyhose and strappy red heels, hidden beneath loose sweats. He didn’t know why he’d done it—maybe habit, maybe curiosity about her plan. When he stepped inside, he froze. Another man was there, lounging on a sleek leather couch, his broad frame relaxed but his eyes sharp. He looked about Daniel’s age, with dark hair and a cocky grin.
“Daniel, meet Joe,” Dr. Harper said, stepping between them. She’d ditched the blazer today, her white silk blouse tucked into that same tight skirt, the top button undone just enough to tease. “Joe’s got a thing for tickling. Specifically, nylon-covered feet. And I think you two might be perfect for each other.”
Joe’s grin widened as he looked Daniel up and down. “Hey, man. You’re the crossdresser, huh? Nice to meet ya.”
Daniel’s face burned, but Dr. Harper cut in before he could stammer a response. “Here’s the deal, Daniel. You want to break free of this compulsion? We’re going to overload it. Joe’s going to help. And I’m going to make sure it sticks.”
She moved to a cabinet and pulled out a coil of soft, white rope, letting it dangle from her fingers as she turned back to him. “Take off the sweats. Let’s see what you’ve got on underneath.”
His hands shook as he complied, peeling off the sweatshirt and pants to reveal the pantyhose and heels. Joe let out a low whistle. “Damn, dude. You’ve got legs.”
“Quiet, Joe,” Dr. Harper said, though her lips twitched with amusement. She motioned for Daniel to sit on a padded chair in the center of the room, then knelt beside him, her fingers brushing his ankle as she began winding the rope around his legs. The nylon amplified every touch, sending sparks up his spine as she tied his ankles together, then his wrists behind the chair. Her perfume enveloped him, her long legs brushing his as she worked.
“There,” she said, standing back to admire her handiwork. “Comfortable?”
“Not really,” he muttered, squirming against the bonds.
“Good. That’s the point.” She turned to Joe. “Your turn. He’s all yours.”
Joe slid off the couch, crawling toward Daniel with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Been dying to get my hands on some nylon feet all week. You cool with this?”
Daniel’s voice caught in his throat, but he nodded, his pulse racing as Joe’s fingers hovered over his bound feet. The first touch was electric—a light, teasing graze along the arch of his foot, the nylon making it slick and unbearable. He jerked, a laugh bursting out before he could stop it.
“Sensitive, huh?” Joe chuckled, his fingers dancing faster, tracing the seams of the pantyhose up to Daniel’s toes. “These heels are hot, man. You wear ‘em often?”
“Shut up,” Daniel gasped, twisting in the chair as the tickling intensified, his body caught between torment and a strange, humiliating thrill.
Dr. Harper watched, her arms crossed, one heel tapping the floor. “Feel that, Daniel? That’s your obsession staring you in the face. Too much, isn’t it?”
“Yes—fuck, yes,” he managed, his voice ragged as Joe’s relentless fingers found the ball of his foot, the nylon amplifying every sensation.
“Beg me to stop him,” she said, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Say it.”
“Please—stop him—please,” he panted, his cheeks flushed, his body trembling.
She snapped her fingers, and Joe pulled back, grinning. “Good boy,” she purred, leaning down until her face was inches from Daniel’s, her breath warm against his lips. “That’s step one. Next time, we’ll see how far we can push you. Maybe I’ll even slip into something a little less… professional.”
She straightened, adjusting her skirt with a smirk, leaving Daniel bound and breathless, the nylon still tingling against his skin.
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To be continue.........
--------------
Daniel stood in the dimly lit waiting room of Dr. Elise Harper’s office, his fingers nervously tugging at the hem of his plain gray sweater. Underneath, hidden beneath the baggy jeans and scuffed sneakers, a pair of sheer, glossy pantyhose clung to his legs, the delicate nylon whispering against his skin with every shift of his weight. The faint outline of a lacy garter belt pressed against his thigh, a secret he’d carried for years—along with the towering stilettos and slinky dresses stashed in the back of his closet. He’d always loved the feel of it all, the way the fabrics hugged him, transformed him into someone bolder, sexier. But lately, that thrill had soured into a gnawing ache. He wanted out. A normal life. Whatever that meant.
The door swung open, and Dr. Elise Harper stepped into the room, her presence hitting him like a jolt of electricity. She was stunning—sharp cheekbones, full lips painted a deep crimson, and piercing green eyes that seemed to see right through him. Her tailored red blazer and pencil skirt screamed professionalism, but they couldn’t hide the curve of her hips or the endless stretch of her legs, encased in sleek, semi-sheer pantyhose that caught the light as she moved. Her black pumps clicked against the hardwood floor, the sound crisp and commanding. Daniel’s breath hitched, his eyes lingering on the subtle shimmer of her nylons before he forced them back to her face.
“Mr. Carter? I’m Dr. Harper. Please, come in,” she said, her voice smooth as silk, with just a hint of a playful edge. She gestured toward her office, and he followed, hyper-aware of the rustle of his own hidden pantyhose beneath his jeans.
The office was modern, all clean lines and leather furniture, with a faint scent of jasmine lingering in the air. She motioned for him to sit on a plush chair across from her desk, and as he sank into it, she perched on the edge of the desk itself, crossing her legs with a slow, deliberate motion. The soft hiss of nylon against nylon sent a shiver down his spine.
“So, Daniel,” she began, tilting her head slightly, her crimson lips curving into a faint smile. “What brings you here? I don’t bite—unless you ask nicely.”
He swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “I… I’ve been struggling with something. Something personal. I don’t know how to say it.”
Her eyes narrowed, but not unkindly. “Take your time. I’m here to listen. And trust me, I’ve heard it all.”
He shifted in his seat, the pantyhose tugging faintly at his skin. “It’s… I like to dress up. In women’s clothes. Dresses, heels, pantyhose. I’ve done it for years, and it used to feel good, but now it’s like… I can’t stop, and I hate it. I just want to be normal.”
Dr. Harper didn’t flinch. She leaned forward slightly, her blazer pulling tight across her chest, and tapped a manicured nail against her knee. “Normal’s overrated, don’t you think? But I get it. You feel trapped. Like it’s not a choice anymore.”
“Exactly,” he said, relief flooding him that she hadn’t laughed or judged. “Can you help me?”
Her smile widened, a glint of something mischievous flickering in her eyes. “Oh, I can help. But my methods are… unconventional. I believe in breaking patterns through experience. Physical experience. You up for that?”
He hesitated, his heart pounding. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say I like to push boundaries to reset them. I’ve got an idea, but it involves another patient of mine. Someone with his own little… obsession. Are you open to something a bit wild?”
Daniel’s stomach flipped, but he nodded, too intrigued—and too desperate—to say no.
Later that week, Daniel returned to Dr. Harper’s office, his nerves buzzing. She’d told him to wear something “comfortable” under his clothes, and he’d chosen a pair of black seamed pantyhose and strappy red heels, hidden beneath loose sweats. He didn’t know why he’d done it—maybe habit, maybe curiosity about her plan. When he stepped inside, he froze. Another man was there, lounging on a sleek leather couch, his broad frame relaxed but his eyes sharp. He looked about Daniel’s age, with dark hair and a cocky grin.
“Daniel, meet Joe,” Dr. Harper said, stepping between them. She’d ditched the blazer today, her white silk blouse tucked into that same tight skirt, the top button undone just enough to tease. “Joe’s got a thing for tickling. Specifically, nylon-covered feet. And I think you two might be perfect for each other.”
Joe’s grin widened as he looked Daniel up and down. “Hey, man. You’re the crossdresser, huh? Nice to meet ya.”
Daniel’s face burned, but Dr. Harper cut in before he could stammer a response. “Here’s the deal, Daniel. You want to break free of this compulsion? We’re going to overload it. Joe’s going to help. And I’m going to make sure it sticks.”
She moved to a cabinet and pulled out a coil of soft, white rope, letting it dangle from her fingers as she turned back to him. “Take off the sweats. Let’s see what you’ve got on underneath.”
His hands shook as he complied, peeling off the sweatshirt and pants to reveal the pantyhose and heels. Joe let out a low whistle. “Damn, dude. You’ve got legs.”
“Quiet, Joe,” Dr. Harper said, though her lips twitched with amusement. She motioned for Daniel to sit on a padded chair in the center of the room, then knelt beside him, her fingers brushing his ankle as she began winding the rope around his legs. The nylon amplified every touch, sending sparks up his spine as she tied his ankles together, then his wrists behind the chair. Her perfume enveloped him, her long legs brushing his as she worked.
“There,” she said, standing back to admire her handiwork. “Comfortable?”
“Not really,” he muttered, squirming against the bonds.
“Good. That’s the point.” She turned to Joe. “Your turn. He’s all yours.”
Joe slid off the couch, crawling toward Daniel with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Been dying to get my hands on some nylon feet all week. You cool with this?”
Daniel’s voice caught in his throat, but he nodded, his pulse racing as Joe’s fingers hovered over his bound feet. The first touch was electric—a light, teasing graze along the arch of his foot, the nylon making it slick and unbearable. He jerked, a laugh bursting out before he could stop it.
“Sensitive, huh?” Joe chuckled, his fingers dancing faster, tracing the seams of the pantyhose up to Daniel’s toes. “These heels are hot, man. You wear ‘em often?”
“Shut up,” Daniel gasped, twisting in the chair as the tickling intensified, his body caught between torment and a strange, humiliating thrill.
Dr. Harper watched, her arms crossed, one heel tapping the floor. “Feel that, Daniel? That’s your obsession staring you in the face. Too much, isn’t it?”
“Yes—fuck, yes,” he managed, his voice ragged as Joe’s relentless fingers found the ball of his foot, the nylon amplifying every sensation.
“Beg me to stop him,” she said, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Say it.”
“Please—stop him—please,” he panted, his cheeks flushed, his body trembling.
She snapped her fingers, and Joe pulled back, grinning. “Good boy,” she purred, leaning down until her face was inches from Daniel’s, her breath warm against his lips. “That’s step one. Next time, we’ll see how far we can push you. Maybe I’ll even slip into something a little less… professional.”
She straightened, adjusting her skirt with a smirk, leaving Daniel bound and breathless, the nylon still tingling against his skin.
----------
To be continue.........
