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The Institute by Ruth White [1/3]
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
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The Institute
by Ruth White
1. Chapter
Michael Taylor sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on the case
file in front of him. His secretary, Alice, had really dressed sexy
today and he couldn't get her out of his mind. It wasn't that Mike
was interested in Alice; he wasn't, but he was interested in the
clothing she wore. Mike had discovered in his early teens that he
got a kick out of wearing girl's clothing, though the only
opportunities he got to dress up were in his mom's stuff when she
wasn't home. Ashamed of this tendency, Mike had fought it, and
thrown his energies into schoolwork instead.
In college the urge to dress had surfaced again. Worried that he
was queer, Mike tried to find out what his problem was. He had
scoured the library for books on sex and psychology. Reading them
had educated Mike to the fact that he was a transvestite. He was
especially relieved to find out that he was, like most transvestites,
heterosexual.
Mike still hadn't seen his way clear to indulge himself and dress up.
He'd lived at home with his mom while he worked his way through
law school, graduating at the top of his class. Now Mike had it all;
he was dating the beautiful Beth Wagner and had a position with
one of the top law firms in New York City. He was on his way up.
There was only one thing missing in Mike's life; he wanted to dress
up. After watching Alice all day, Mike decided it was time to see
what he could do about his urge to dress.
Mike had heard rumors of boutique that catered to men like him
and, with no trouble, he was able to find it down on 14th St. Once
there, Mike went on a crazed shopping spree. Here was everything
he'd dreamed about, and he bought it all. A long blonde wig,
cosmetics, waist cinch, a bra and pads to fit it, a little contraption
to hold his cock and balls out of sight, a padded panty, a garter belt
and hosiery, spike heels, lingerie, some dresses, and a couple of
books which he hoped would help him put it all together.
Mike saw a girl in the store. She was tall, kind of skinny and flat
chested, but really cute with short black hair. She was wearing a
suit, and looked as if she'd stopped off on her way home from the
1
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office. Mike wondered what she was doing there, but then he
thought, "she's probably thinking the same thing about me."
Mike gathered his purchases together after paying for them and
headed for the door with his arms filled with boxes. He walked past
the girl he'd seen earlier.
"Just getting started?"
It was a man!
The voice gave him away. Mike stared. He hadn't been able to, and
still couldn't, tell by his appearance.
"Don't get spooked. I don't bite." He said in a low husky voice.
"I'm sorry, it's just that ... this is my first time and I uh ... don't
know ..." Stammered Mike.
"That's O.K. Here let me give you a hand with your bags."
*******
Mike and Dawn, as he called himself, sat in the back of a coffee
shop talking.
"Get it. From Don to Dawn and the dawn of a new me."
"Yeah." Said Mike, still entranced by the image of the man before
him.
"I must compliment you on you appearance. I had no idea that a
man could look so much like a woman."
"Well thank you very much, but I can't take the credit for that.
I'm afraid the Institute gets the blame."
"The what?"
"The Institute. Oh, it's got some long name like The Institute for
the Amelioration of Gender something or other, but all the TV's I
know call it The Institute."
Dawn had Mike's undivided attention now.
"What did they do for you?" Mike asked.
"Well they made the man I am today, even if you can't tell that I
am one. You see it's run by this really rich guy who's a TV. He
uses his fortune to run the Institute, so that no TV or TS will ever
have to suffer alone. They do all sorts of things like hold classes
and to teach us guys how to dress and act like ladies."
"How can I get in touch with them?"
2. Chapter
Mike walked up and down the street in front of the Institute. He'd
arranged to get away from work today, but just didn't have the
guts to go in. The next time he walked past though, a cute girl
opened the door and motioned to him to come in.
"I can always tell when we have a rookie outside. You guys just
pace, acting nonchalant, and pretending to ignore us. My name's
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Dan. Welcome."
Mike was totally confused now.
"You mean you're a guy too?"
"Of course I am, and I work here. As a woman, I might add."
Mike could believe that. He hadn't detected the slightest masculine
trait in Dan, neither his appearance or voice gave him away. Mike
was really impressed as he followed Dan into the building. Dan was
dressed in a short-sleeved navy dress with a flared skirt. His
brunette hair was done in a short page boy, and Mike could tell
that it wasn't a wig. Earrings, a bracelet, low-heeled navy pumps,
smooth legs in nylons, and light cosmetics completed the picture of
a young woman that Dan presented to the world. Mike wondered if
it were possible that he could ever look as good.
"So what can we do for you?" Asked Dan.
"My name's Mike. Mike Taylor. I heard from an acquaintance that
you might be able to help me."
"What seems to be the problem?"
"I don't have a problem, it's just that I'm a TV, I haven't dressed
in years, and I don't have a clue as to what I'm doing."
"Say no more Mike. You've come to the right place. The first thing
we'll ask you to do is to fill out a questionnaire. It's just to help us
decide where to start you out since we offer guidance, coaching, and
training to transvestites at all stages, transsexuals also."
"I'm sure I need to start at the beginning," said Mike.
Mike answered the questions on such things as his home life, sexual
preferences, work, education, and prior experiences with dressing.
After reading it over Dan told him. "You're a beginner all right.
You're in luck too. We have a beginners class starting up in two
weeks. It meets Tuesday and Thursday nights from 6 pm to 10 pm."
Mike wanted something settled before he went any farther. "How
much is this going to cost me?"
"Not a cent dear. Except what you choose to spend on clothing and
make-up. All services provided by the Institute are gratis."
"And I can leave any time and never return?"
"Sure, although most of our alumni return for refresher courses,
and some for what you might call graduate education. There is one
thing we ask of you before you start. We finish every beginners class
with a formal ball, and require each graduate to be escorted by a
man, or a woman in drag. Now some of them have boyfriends or
girlfriends, and some of them don't. For the latter, we ask incoming
students to act as their escort for the ball. Now if it bothers you,
you needn't participate, but we find it to be a broadening
experience, and a good beginning to your association with us."
******
Mike felt kind of strange as he pressed the doorbell. Here he was
picking up his date, dressed in a tux and carrying a corsage, and his
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date was a man. Mike reviewed the Institute's rules for the evening.
No advances whatsoever were to be made on his date who, he'd
been told, would not appreciate it. He was to act like the perfect
gentleman escorting a date to a ball. He was to treat his partner as
a lady and absolutely no reference was to be made in public to the
fact that they were not what they appeared be.
The door opened.
"Hi, you must be Mike. I'm Henrietta. Come on in."
Henrietta sure didn't talk like a girl, but at least he could pass for a
woman in public, even if he made a rather drab looking one.
Henrietta was the same height as Mike, about 5'6" one of the
reasons they'd been matched, and wore a dress of black taffeta
covered with black lace, mid-heel black satin pumps, and nylons. He
hadn't put his wig on yet, but had finished applying his cosmetics.
"Have a seat while I finish dressing."
"Just like a girl," thought Mike, "they're never ready on time.
"I guess your real name is Henry?" Asked Mike.
"You would think so, but it's Pete. If you don't have a girl's name
picked out for yourself, you get to draw a slip of paper out of a box,
and whatever name's on it is yours to keep; unless you absolutely
can't stand it.
The two men made small talk and Mike found himself more and
more at ease with Pete. Upon discovering that Pete was a
stockbroker, Mike resolved to bring him his business. This, he had
been told, was a side benefit of the Institute. Many of the alumni
were influential individuals, and while absolute confidentiality was
the rule, they did tend to band together in a sort of 'old boys
network'.
Pete's wig was dark brown, and fell down his back, long and
straight. When he was finished dressing, Mike held out his short
black fur coat for him just like a gentleman, and they were off.
The ball was at a club in Queens and they went in Mike's car.
They had a pretty good time. Mike even danced with Pete; at
Pete's insistence. It seems that some of the classes had covered
dancing and Pete had never had a chance to try it out for real.
Pete danced very well, following Mike's lead gracefully. When it
was over, Mike took Pete home and walked him to his door.
"Well goodnight Henrietta."
"Goodnight Mike, I'll see you around."
As Pete was going in, he turned around.
"I had a wonderful time Mike. Thanks. And good luck at the
Institute."
******
Mike walked up to the door of the Institute. Tonight was his first
class. He'd been given a sheet of instructions which said that he
didn't have to bring anything to the first meeting where he'd be
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given instructions about future meetings. It had recommended that
he start dieting and letting his hair grow if he wanted to make a
serious commitment to dressing. He did.
3. Chapter
Time was passing quickly for Mike. He really looked forward to
Tuesdays and Thursdays. He was learning everything he needed to
know to disguise himself and pass as a woman. The classes had
started with a lesson on vocabulary as there are so many words
used by women that men never hear. Mike learned to discuss
fabrics and fashions, cosmetics and hairstyles.
Like most TV's, Mike was inclined toward the big busty blonde
look and tight sensuous clothing, but he learned that the best way
to avoid unwanted attention when dressed up was to dress down.
The class took some field trips, such as one to a beauty salon where
they learned about all that goes in that mysterious haven of
women. Mike decided to stay with his natural auburn hair color,
buying a wig in that shade until his own was long enough to go
without one. He decided on a style; long, but acceptable for a man,
which could be quickly and easily converted into a fashionable
women's cut. Mike fancied that he could sense a definite
personality evolving in his feminine alter ego.
Mike wasn't sure just how far he wanted to go concerning
crossdressing, but he did know that he wanted to see if he could
pass in public. He decided to cool it with Beth for awhile, dress up
to his hearts content, get it out of his system, and then settle down.
He had been calling and seeing Beth less and less, and finally he
stopped calling her entirely.
******
One evening at class, all the guys were asked if they had taken a
girl's name for themselves. Those who did not were asked to select
one at random. Mike was one of these and drew a slip of paper
from a box. He looked at it.
Your name will be AMANDA
"Amanda!" Mike said.
Mike was tempted to reject the name at first, but the more he
thought about it, and the more he repeated it to himself, the more
he was taken by the sweet name. Yes, he would call himself
Amanda.
4. Chapter
Leslie van Damme was a troubled man as he rode the private
elevator up to his penthouse apartment. He let himself in, threw his
coat on a chair, and plopped down on the couch. He cursed his bad
luck.
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"Why can't I even once have a normal relationship?" Leslie asked
himself aloud. His date tonight had been even more of a dud than
usual.
After cooling off he got up and went to his bedroom telling himself
the answer he knew so well; "You can't have a normal relationship
because you aren't normal."
That much would have been obvious to anyone able to observe as
Leslie unzipped the short black crepe cocktail dress he'd worn that
evening, stepped out of it, then hung it up in the closet among all
his other designer dresses. Taking off his high-heeled black sandals,
he placed them in the closet also. Leslie unhooked his black
brassiere and tossed it in the hamper, his pantyhose and panties
soon followed. Removing his earrings, watch, and ring he put them
in his jewelry chest. Leslie's problem was that he didn't know
where he fit in. He wasn't a transsexual, although at times he was
tempted to just give in and change his sex for the sake of being able
to lead a normal life, even if it was as a woman. He wasn't even a
transvestite by inclination. After his father and mother had
separated, from the age of five, Leslie had been raised as a girl by
his mother and his older sister Justine. Every care had been taken
to ensure that Leslie never developed any of the masculine
characteristics which his mother found so offensive. In addition to a
steady diet of female hormones, Leslie was raised in an atmosphere
where he was exposed only to women. On the secluded van Damme
estate, all the servants, workers, guests, and Leslie's tutors were
female. By the time he was twenty one there was no way to undo
what had been accomplished; Leslie didn't look like a man, and he
didn't now how to act like one. He had never even worn any
masculine clothing. He couldn't pass as a man no matter how hard
he tried.
Leslie wasn't particular as to the sex of his partners, he enjoyed
both men and women with perhaps only the slightest bias in favor
of the girls. The problem was that he wanted a stable and fulfilling
relationship, but the people who were able to accept him as he was
seemed incapable of one. On the other hand, those people who were
sensible and well-adjusted emotionally seemed to find the prospect
of sex, or a relationship, with him too extreme.
Leslie had been out with an old friend, Sheila, who knew his
circumstances, but when he had attempted seduction she found it
humorous and rebuffed him politely; he was left feeling lonely,
angry, and incompetent.
Leslie examined himself in the mirror. He was 5'9" in his bare feet.
Long legs, nice rounded thighs and buttocks, narrow waist, and
ample B-cup breasts. With his hair in a long pageboy, the
resemblance to his sister Justine was remarkable. He grabbed his
flaccid cock and started to play with it.
"Well old friend it looks like it's just you and me once again." He
headed into the shower.
******
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Meanwhile, in another section of the city...
Beth Wagner was a troubled woman as she rode the elevator up to
her apartment.
"Another date with a loser." She thought to herself.
Beth hadn't heard from Mike in some time now and had decided to
go out with other guys. She had thought a lot of Mike; he was
good-looking in a soft kind of way. He had excellent manners and
was always a gentleman, and he had a good future in front of him
at his law firm. She wondered why he didn't call anymore. Was it
something she did ... or something she didn't do? It must be
another woman. Mike had never tried to seduce her and she had
never indicated a desire for sex to him. Perhaps he needed a little
encouragement. Beth could be very strong-willed when she wanted
to, and she resolved then and there to find up what Mike was up to
and win him back from whatever woman had tried to muscle her
out of the picture.
******
Meanwhile, in yet another section of the city...
Mike Taylor was euphoric as he rode the elevator up to his
apartment. He let himself into his apartment. In the living room he
stopped to look in the mirror. Mike scrutinized his reflection. He
had done it. After all those lessons he'd finally dressed up all the
way. He had pierced his ears, applied long false fingernails and
polished them bright red, shaved his entire body, and applied every
trick he'd learned at The Institute. The result was spectacular.
Mike had never imagined that he could look so pretty and feminine
as a girl. Dressing up was worth every penny and every second he'd
invested in it.
Mike wore a simple knit dress. It was brown and matched his low
heel pumps. Over his left shoulder he had draped a designer scarf;
his one indulgence in fashion. His jewelry consisted of a simple
string of pearls around his neck and one in each earlobe, and an
aquamarine ring he'd bought himself. Mike put down the purse he
carried, poured himself a stiff drink to calm his nerves, and sat
down on the couch where he sipped at it.
Mike considered the lipstick stains he left on the glass and
meditated on his success this evening. He had actually gone out in
public dressed completely as a girl. Granted he hadn't gone far
distance wise, just a couple of blocks to look in some shop windows
and right back, but he had travelled light years in attitude. Several
people had seen him and none of them thought he was anything
but what he appeared to be. Why one man had even smiled at him.
Mike was exhilarated; he had passed in public for the first time
and, by the way he felt, Mike knew that it wouldn't be the last.
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5. Chapter
Leslie had just finished dinner with his sister Justine, in New York
on one of her trips, and once more had recited his litany of woes
concerning romance to her.
"You know Les, I always tried to convince Mom that you'd be
happier as a girl, and that she should finish the job she started.
"Oh come off it, Justine."
"No, I'm serious. Why don't you come with me to my island for
several weeks? Once my clinic get done with you, I guarantee that
no one will ever be able to tell that you weren't born a girl."
"But I like girls, Justine. It's just that every one that I take a
liking to thinks I'm too far out."
"Then conceive of your ideal girl and make her."
"What are you talking about?"
"I do it all the time on the island. You choose the attributes,
physical, emotional, and psychological, that you want her to have,
then create her."
"I don't understand. How do I create a girl."
"Well, we usually start with a man. If you handle them right they
never get over it. A woman who used to be a man is never arrogant
or presumptuous; she has lost the ability, besides men are more
easily brainwashed ... ."
Leslie listened in rapt attention as his sister described how to
compose the perfect woman.
******
"So you mean to tell me that you can do all that?" Leslie asked his
sister.
"Of course, and let me tell what else I've been able to do. Do you
remember Bob Watson who passed through here?"
"Wasn't he the TS you guys took a special interest in? You took
him back to The Island didn't you?"
"Yes, and there I ran him through this new procedure Dave
Weinstein developed and when it was over, he was a girl. I mean
fully female inside and out. Last I heard he was the mother of two."
"You're kidding me!"
"You know me better than that Leslie. I never kid."
"Where is old Bob these days? I'd like to see this for myself"
At this last remark Justine shot her brother one of those icy looks
that told him he was treading on thin ice.
"You don't even want to know, Leslie."
He dropped the subject like a hot potato.
******
A couple of days later Leslie wandered idly through the Institute of
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which he was nominally the director, although his primary
responsibility was to ensure that any instructions Justine issued
were carried out. He had no idea what all she was involved in and
some of the tasks she had him complete convinced him that didn't
really care to know.
Looking at a bulletin board Leslie saw a flyer announcing a
graduation ball for the latest beginner's class. Leslie hadn't been to
one of those in a while. He recalled that they could be interesting
and he had that new gown at home. He stopped by Dan's desk and
picked up a ticket for it.
******
Leslie mingled incognito at the ball drawing many admiring glances
in his gold lame strapless evening gown. He had seen several of the
graduates tonight who looked interesting. He went to the bar to
think about how best to approach them. Someone bumped into
Leslie and he spilled his drink.
"Oh, I'm so sorry."
He turned and was face to face with an angel.
Mike had opted for the virginal good girl look tonight. He wore a
simple gown with a long-sleeve black velvet top studded with faux
pearls. The skirt was made of cream colored satin and was poufed
with a crinoline.
Leslie stared at the beautiful girl in front of him. She was a
delightful vision; so feminine. So pretty. Was this one of the
students? He was perfect.
Mike wandered back to his date and Leslie turned to one of the
counselors.
"Tell me. Who is that?"
"His name is Michael Taylor and he has just finished our beginner's
class. Pretty good isn't he?"
"Hmmmm." Leslie liked what he saw, and thought, "If he looks like
that after the beginner's class..." He recalled what Justine had said:
"Well, we usually start with a man ..."
"Bring me his record tomorrow, will you?
"Certainly."
6. Chapter
The next morning, Leslie pored over Mike's record.
"H'mm this might work."
Touching the intercom he said, "Dan, find Gail Williams and have
her come see me will you."
Leslie finished his conversation with Gail.
"Just do what it takes to keep him around here. I have something
new I want to try on him."
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Mike had been surprised to receive a phone call at home from
someone named Gail at the Institute. He was even more surprised
when their conversation was over. It seems he'd been named
distinguished graduate and was being invited to attend the next
level of classes. Not only that, but he'd also been awarded a
$500.00 gift certificate for Tiffany. Classes started next week.
Back at the Institute, Gail said to Leslie: "It worked he's in."
"Excellent. Thank you very much."
After Gail had left, Leslie dialed a number.
"Hello. Miss Wagner? You don't know me, but there something
you ought to know about Mike Taylor."
******
Mike was already for his class tonight. He sprayed a little perfume
behind each ear and freshened up his lipstick. Tonight he wore a
simple sweater and skirt set with flat shoes. The class was going on
a field trip to a female impersonator show. It didn't matter that
most of them were better at impersonating females than the cast, it
was part of their education into all aspects of crossdressing. Mike
grabbed his purse and opened the door.
Beth was waiting in the hallway. Her unknown caller had alerted
her as to what would be going on tonight. She heard Mike's door
open and someone leave and close it behind them. Peeking out she
saw a girl coming towards her. No it couldn't be. She hadn't
believed what she had been told on the phone, but here was the
proof of it. Beth stepped out into the hallway with her camera
ready.
"My Gaaaawd!. Mike? It is you."
"Pardon me. You must have me mistaken with somebody else."
"So that's why I haven't seen you in months." Mike was scared stiff
and knew he was trapped.
"Please Beth, don't cause a scene."
"I'm not the one parading around in the wrong clothes."
"Look I just did this for a masquerade party tonight."
The camera came up and the flash went off.
"Try another one. And to think I thought I was falling in love with
a pansy."
"Please, Beth."
She took another picture.
"Too late, Mike, or is it Michelle these days?"
"Just don't tell anyone. Please?"
"I won't, but I'll just keep these pictures as a memento."
******
Beth lied. The pictures were all over town. It wasn't long before
George Fisher, one of the senior partners, asked Mike to step into
his office. "I'm sorry, Mr. Taylor, but we can't keep you with the
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