It was an unseasonably warm weekday afternoon in mid-April when I went to the orthopedist's office for my appointment. Two weeks earlier he had removed by long-leg cast and had applied a short-leg cast; a process which I greatly enjoyed and found mildly arousing. But today's appointment was for the application of my long-awaited walking cast. He inspected my short-leg cast, found it in good repair, and decided that he would simply add the walking heel. I could feel my excitement build as he added layers of plaster to the sole of my cast, then placed the green rubber walking heel into position, and finally secured it by wrapping layers of fresh plaster around the foot and ankle portion of my cast. We exchanged parting pleasantries and the nurse instructed me not to bear weight on my new cast for at least twenty-four hours and sent me back to the receptionist to schedule my next appointment four weeks hence. As I walked with crutches back toward the reception area I was becoming tremulous with excitement and realized that I would have to conceal my arousal before I entered the reception area so I pulled my shirt out of my pants to cover the obvious changes in contour. After making the next appointment, I proceeded outside and felt the warmth of the spring air on my exposed toes as my cast swung in the air with each crutch stride. While unlocking the car, I rested my cast on its walking heel for the first time and paused to look down and admire it. It had been six years since I had become fixated on the unique appeal of a walking cast and had so desperately wanted to wear one that I was now hovering on the edge of erotic climax just seeing my toes suspended in the air. I had to exercise great self control for an adolescent because, when that moment arrived, I wanted it to be when I took my first steps in the cast and would finally feel its sensual pleasures.

Somehow, I managed to get through that night without succumbing to my urges which were be tested every time I looked at or felt my cast. The next morning, which would be my last day on crutches, I decided that I would wear a toe sock over the front of my cast when I went to classes so that the change in my cast would be less noticeable to others and to keep me from spending all day looking at it. Nevertheless, a couple of people commented on the addition of the walking heel and I was surprised at how aroused it made me when I heard it from a female classmate and wondered if my cast affected her the way a woman's did me. All of that mattered little to me as the day ended and I proceeded home, charged with excitement, knowing that I was only minutes away from the first steps in my walking cast. Knowing that my parents wouldn't be arriving for nearly two hours, I had the house to myself and had made a plan for enjoying this moment fully. Using the crutches, I went into the house and proceeded to change into shorts, a comfortable shirt, and a white canvas sneaker. Still maneuvering with crutches, I stood in front a full-length mirror and enjoyed the view of myself with the entirety of my cast visible. The toe sock was still in place and I had begun to find that it had its own allure simply because it concealed the front opening of the cast and the projecting toes, which was at the very heart of this type of cast's appeal. I removed it and now had the view that I had been waiting years for. It was a joy to simply take this private time to look at my cast from every possible angle, lifting and pivoting it to see every facet. Satisfied with this, I made the last descent of the stairs on crutches and went into a recreation room which I had chosen for taking my first steps in a walking cast. This was a large room with a ceramic tile floor, a pool table toward one end, and a large, framed, mirror on the opposite end which reflected the entire room. I stood against the pool table and again took full measure of my reflection in the mirror and let my excitement build as I focused on the image of my cast as I rocked it gently and moved my toes. With the crutches leaning against the table, I could feel my heart pounding and all of my pent-up desires poised for gratification. I took the first step with my left foot and began to walk slowly. My right foot came forward with the next step and I watched in the mirror as the walking heel contacted the ground and completed my first step ever in a walking cast. As that happened, I experienced a most unique and pleasurable sensation in the arch of my casted foot as my entire weight pressed against the padded rigidity of the cast . I had been wanting to experience this since my classmate first told me about it six years before and, to this day, still savor it each time I take the first steps in a new walking cast. As I walked toward the mirror, feeling the pleasure of each step, I watched the rocking motion of the cast and saw my toes hanging in the air simply going along for the ride. My arousal could no longer be contained and, on one of these steps when I heard the thump of the walking heel as it hit the tile floor, I succumbed to the ecstatic release of desire that I had saved for this moment.

The next four weeks were ones of pure joy as I found every aspect of wearing a walking cast sheer pleasure and the arousal I derived from it was more that any seventeen-year old boy could hope for, except in fantasy. As the time for my cast removal approached, I became a bit dejected thinking about its impending loss. When I returned home from classes the day before it was to be removed, my mother informed me that the orthopedist's office had called to reschedule my appointment. It turned out that he had to be out of town unexpectedly and my cast removal would have to wait for another week. I feigned great disappointment to my mother when I heard the news while rejoicing to myself. The truth of the matter was, I would have gladly worn the cast for the rest of the summer if given the opportunity. This extra week in the cast allowed me think about why I had enjoyed it so intensely and forced me to confront the issue of how aberrant this attraction might be considered and if I should do anything about it. I concluded that, in addition to being a normal heterosexual adolescent, I had developed a true obsession with walking casts but felt that it was something that was entirely private and of no harm to me or others. I reasoned that wearing a walking cast and frequently being very aroused by it, hadn't affected my performance in school and had not kept me from having normal relationships with women my own age. The most important question for me was how to be able to satisfy my attraction to walking casts while remaining within the bounds of acceptable social behavior. This latter consideration was important, because I recognized that my attraction to women's feet and shoes had progressed to the point where I collected photographs of this subject from print media, catalogs, etc. and had actually purchased several pairs of women's shoes which I considered particularly appealing and would wear in private. As far as women were concerned, it meant simply that attractive legs and feet were necessary in order for me to find a woman appealing physically and that I had no need to incorporate this into any relationship; it was strictly private. My problem was how to practice this.

During the last weekend that I would wear my cast, I thought about this and reached what later would seem like an obvious conclusion. After some reading at the library, I understood the many forms of fetishim, a paraphilia, or non-traditional sexual practice, in which sexual attraction is at least partially transferred to a body part or object commonly associated with the opposite sex but which is not a normal part of sexual reproduction, per se. Feet, shoes and casts certainly fit the latter part of this definition but it was the part about a fetish object commonly being associated with the opposite sex that opened my eyes. When a common object which is traditionally associated with one gender becomes a fetish object for a member of the opposite sex, its ordinary use by that person is not considered acceptable behavior and its public display would brand the user as a deviant. Simply put, it would not have been acceptable for me to appear in public wearing a pair of women's high-heeled pumps, but wearing a walking cast was a different story entirely. A cast was an object worn by both men and women for reasons of medical therapy and was not generally regarded by people as an object associated with sexual attraction. In fact, seeing a person in a cast often engenders feelings of sympathy and concern amongst onlookers. Finally, it seemed as though a solution for the future had evolved. My most revered fetish object, the walking cast, was something that I could wear in public at any time for its erotic pleasure without being perceived as engaging in deviant sexual behavior. With this realization, I no longer minded that my cast was to be removed the next day; I knew that there would be others in the future and I was also very eager to cultivate normal intimate relationships with women exclusive of any fetish interest. It would be five years before I would appear in public wearing my first recreational walking cast, but the seed which has led to more than three decades of self-casting had been planted. At the time, I couldn't see all of the issues, problems, and ramifications of this practice but could only think of the pleasures, which have been considerable. Fortunately, I have been able to enjoy an otherwise normal personal and professional life while reserving increasingly rare solitary and private opportunities for cast wearing. My experiences of planning and executing cast adventures, as well as interesting situations which have arisen while wearing walking casts, will be presented in future installments.