Available now is 'Diapered', 40,000 words $6.55.
The sequel 'Adopted' is well under way and will most likely be released in January.
Enjoy.
Monday, December 31, 2018
'Diapered' published
Because the story became... is becoming... long, I have decided to publish it in parts.
Available now is 'Diapered', 40,000 words $6.55.
The sequel 'Adopted' is well under way and will most likely be released in January.
Enjoy.
Available now is 'Diapered', 40,000 words $6.55.
The sequel 'Adopted' is well under way and will most likely be released in January.
Enjoy.
Saturday, December 29, 2018
'Diapered', Snippet Two
Happy New Year to All
*****
It Begins With a Party - Nicole
For many weeks, a rather assertive friend has been telling me of these risque parties and munches she attends.
Naked males!
‘What of your husband?’, I inquire.
‘He can either attend and strip... or stay home. He declines public nudity... so I have him stay home. I can’t change the rules... nor do I want to,’ she flippantly responds.
There’s attraction. As an independent minded woman, I always found the pressure and coercion in becoming objectified... when dating.... to be a put off. This male thing about nudity as a precursor to even the most preliminary form of social intercourse... not so much disgusts but wounds the self esteem. I am a person, not a statue or piece of art to be ogled.
And here my friend Sarah describes scenes where there is no pressure... on the women. It is the men who become living objects ‘d art.
So there is consideration. But there is also my career. I’m in human resources for a sizable and prestigious engineering and construction firm. I have the title anointing me as second in command of the department. However, title aside, most times I feel like a glorified file clerk. Still, with my boss, Henry Peterson, close to retirement, I tolerate the daily drudgery. Ascension to the number one spot beckons, becoming closer each and every day. So despite being single and at an age when a woman’s need to mate and nest weighs heavily, I keep my affairs tidy. No pretentious dating. No wild parties. No office flings. Not even any flirting.
At Gordon Engineering and Design I am known as a prude... hopefully an attractive prude... but a prude. I keep quiet, am respectful, observe all office protocol. I want nothing to be in the way of my aspirations to become Director of Human Resources.
With that... well... I’ll have the power. The owner of the firm focuses on business development and sales, giving my department cart blanche over all matters of personnel... whom to hire... whom to fire... whom to demote... whom to promote... and of most importance... that which effects all... who gets a raise, how much and when. To assure appropriate expenditures, compliance with tax rules, our department reviews all expense reports... even those of owner Evan Gordon. Such has been delegated to me, and just this little slice of authority becomes an alluring precursor of what I as Director of Human Resources will ultimately wield.
So yes, whenever Sarah describes the depravity... the thrill of it being one sided... of a recent get together, there is consideration... followed by self denial. I can’t reconcile it with my aspirations.
Then comes an enticing phone call.
“Nicole, I know of the temptation... know how you have both attraction and disdain for men. But the group... the CFNM bunch... is having a Halloween party. So the men will still be made to strip... but be masked. They’ve bought a bunch of cheap, identical hoods so the only distinguishing features will be their cock and balls... ha, ha, ha. And the women will be costumed. You can wear a party mask. So do give it consideration... this time real consideration.”
Sarah is excited, selling me on the notion. Reiterating that with Hamilton an hour’s drive away, no one I know will be attending... an additional layer of anonymity, costume aside.
“You can help me shave them,” her sales pitch continuing. “Handling a man can be... I don’t know... guess it’s a lot different than at the hospital. There erections are discouraged,” the words coming with more mirth.
Sarah, as a nurse, has been delegated the task of assuring that the sense of nakedness of all attending males is accentuated by having their privates shorn, bathed and oiled at the beginning of each party. After every event, she has excitedly told the details of her role. Naked males lined up like cattle awaiting slaughter. I don’t tell her that, though her thrill likely surpasses mine, envisioning her brazen handling brings arousal all the same.
“So rent a costume. We’ll drive together.”
“What about Ed?” once again inquiring of her husband’s participation.
“He’ll be... ah... indisposed. But I’m sure be eagerly greeting me when I return.”
So there it is. No excuses. All concerns over discovery and my budding career mitigated by both distance and disguise. And I further console myself that, putting Sarah’s offer of participation aside, rather than shaving the pubes’ of obedient men, I will simply observe.
*****
It Begins With a Party - Nicole
For many weeks, a rather assertive friend has been telling me of these risque parties and munches she attends.
Naked males!
‘What of your husband?’, I inquire.
‘He can either attend and strip... or stay home. He declines public nudity... so I have him stay home. I can’t change the rules... nor do I want to,’ she flippantly responds.
There’s attraction. As an independent minded woman, I always found the pressure and coercion in becoming objectified... when dating.... to be a put off. This male thing about nudity as a precursor to even the most preliminary form of social intercourse... not so much disgusts but wounds the self esteem. I am a person, not a statue or piece of art to be ogled.
And here my friend Sarah describes scenes where there is no pressure... on the women. It is the men who become living objects ‘d art.
So there is consideration. But there is also my career. I’m in human resources for a sizable and prestigious engineering and construction firm. I have the title anointing me as second in command of the department. However, title aside, most times I feel like a glorified file clerk. Still, with my boss, Henry Peterson, close to retirement, I tolerate the daily drudgery. Ascension to the number one spot beckons, becoming closer each and every day. So despite being single and at an age when a woman’s need to mate and nest weighs heavily, I keep my affairs tidy. No pretentious dating. No wild parties. No office flings. Not even any flirting.
At Gordon Engineering and Design I am known as a prude... hopefully an attractive prude... but a prude. I keep quiet, am respectful, observe all office protocol. I want nothing to be in the way of my aspirations to become Director of Human Resources.
With that... well... I’ll have the power. The owner of the firm focuses on business development and sales, giving my department cart blanche over all matters of personnel... whom to hire... whom to fire... whom to demote... whom to promote... and of most importance... that which effects all... who gets a raise, how much and when. To assure appropriate expenditures, compliance with tax rules, our department reviews all expense reports... even those of owner Evan Gordon. Such has been delegated to me, and just this little slice of authority becomes an alluring precursor of what I as Director of Human Resources will ultimately wield.
So yes, whenever Sarah describes the depravity... the thrill of it being one sided... of a recent get together, there is consideration... followed by self denial. I can’t reconcile it with my aspirations.
Then comes an enticing phone call.
“Nicole, I know of the temptation... know how you have both attraction and disdain for men. But the group... the CFNM bunch... is having a Halloween party. So the men will still be made to strip... but be masked. They’ve bought a bunch of cheap, identical hoods so the only distinguishing features will be their cock and balls... ha, ha, ha. And the women will be costumed. You can wear a party mask. So do give it consideration... this time real consideration.”
Sarah is excited, selling me on the notion. Reiterating that with Hamilton an hour’s drive away, no one I know will be attending... an additional layer of anonymity, costume aside.
“You can help me shave them,” her sales pitch continuing. “Handling a man can be... I don’t know... guess it’s a lot different than at the hospital. There erections are discouraged,” the words coming with more mirth.
Sarah, as a nurse, has been delegated the task of assuring that the sense of nakedness of all attending males is accentuated by having their privates shorn, bathed and oiled at the beginning of each party. After every event, she has excitedly told the details of her role. Naked males lined up like cattle awaiting slaughter. I don’t tell her that, though her thrill likely surpasses mine, envisioning her brazen handling brings arousal all the same.
“So rent a costume. We’ll drive together.”
“What about Ed?” once again inquiring of her husband’s participation.
“He’ll be... ah... indisposed. But I’m sure be eagerly greeting me when I return.”
So there it is. No excuses. All concerns over discovery and my budding career mitigated by both distance and disguise. And I further console myself that, putting Sarah’s offer of participation aside, rather than shaving the pubes’ of obedient men, I will simply observe.
Tuesday, December 25, 2018
'Diapered', Snippet One
Merry Christmas.
*****
Diapered
Copyright 2018
by Chris Bellows
It Begins With a Party - David
As a shy 30 year old bachelor, the internet has come to greatly bolster my social life... to be more aptly described as my sex life I suppose.
More and more often after a grueling high pressure day in business, I find my fingers typing, my mouse clicking, signing onto various dating and social websites. Curiously, the genre of the selected sites seems to get kinkier and more risque every week... particularly on Saturdays when there is time to explore for newer and different groups, blogs, and message boards.
So I read a lot, bashfully type a message here and there, learn of the many facets of interaction between men and women. But no real time contact... no dates... no informal rendevous. As stated I am shy, even in college limiting contact with the opposite sex... my engineering degree requiring much study when not working part time.
Guess one would say I am socially stunted. Thus in the privacy of my den study, the anonymity of the internet can embolden... even doing so to the point that I find myself diving into this site cultivating CFNM... the quirky world of gatherings for clothed females - naked males.
The more I read... the more I learn... the more something within becomes intrigued.
What is it that attracts?
I am not an exhibitionist. I am physically in shape... a little running... visits to the gym when possible. But nothing to bring undue pride... no notions of ‘hey girls, look at this’. No, as I self analyze, it seems the subtle power exchange brings arousal. Everything to be bared, women to gaze at all without compunction. And yes, on some lonely nights, the hormonal relief of masturbation is abetted by fantasies... and such are visions of being commanded to disrobe and socialize in a room of fully clothed amused women.
Week after week, the internet interludes become longer... deeper in peeling the onion so to speak of this growing... seemingly growing... form of social interaction.
The pinnacle comes when I find and join a message board which is more than just an exchange of thoughts and messages. These people actually meet once or twice per month! And they’re based in Hamilton, a town some fifty miles away.
I become a moth about the candle, the location far enough away such that my real name will not be known... face not to be recognized... no one will know me... yet close enough to drive without burden.
Yes, I become known as ‘Erecting Dave’, my online appellation alluding to my employment in designing and engineering industrial structures.
So I communicate, responding to posts, many of which include photos... faces blurred... from the latest munch or cocktail party... slowly mustering the fortitude to attend.
Yes, slowly, for as stated I am shy, and the rules of the gatherings are strict. The clothing of male attendees is collected and locked away upon entry to the home, club or catering hall of the party. Women are in charge, to be obeyed. Any touching is one dimensional... males to be freely examined... females discouraged from permitting reciprocation. And in reading of the various contests, my breathing becomes labored with an odd combination of disbelief, denial that such excites, and a yearning to attend and observe.
But to do so requires fortitude which I have not. Males are stripped! There are no casual male observers. At the Hamilton soirees, one is either humbly naked or a fully clothed empowered woman.
Finally, just as this moth tires of winging about the candle, the Hamilton group organizes a Halloween gathering. Males will have covering! Masked in a hood. Such added anonymity further emboldens, any photos neglectfully posted without the photo shopped blur will remain innocuous.
Dare I attend?
*****
Diapered
Copyright 2018
by Chris Bellows
It Begins With a Party - David
As a shy 30 year old bachelor, the internet has come to greatly bolster my social life... to be more aptly described as my sex life I suppose.
More and more often after a grueling high pressure day in business, I find my fingers typing, my mouse clicking, signing onto various dating and social websites. Curiously, the genre of the selected sites seems to get kinkier and more risque every week... particularly on Saturdays when there is time to explore for newer and different groups, blogs, and message boards.
So I read a lot, bashfully type a message here and there, learn of the many facets of interaction between men and women. But no real time contact... no dates... no informal rendevous. As stated I am shy, even in college limiting contact with the opposite sex... my engineering degree requiring much study when not working part time.
Guess one would say I am socially stunted. Thus in the privacy of my den study, the anonymity of the internet can embolden... even doing so to the point that I find myself diving into this site cultivating CFNM... the quirky world of gatherings for clothed females - naked males.
The more I read... the more I learn... the more something within becomes intrigued.
What is it that attracts?
I am not an exhibitionist. I am physically in shape... a little running... visits to the gym when possible. But nothing to bring undue pride... no notions of ‘hey girls, look at this’. No, as I self analyze, it seems the subtle power exchange brings arousal. Everything to be bared, women to gaze at all without compunction. And yes, on some lonely nights, the hormonal relief of masturbation is abetted by fantasies... and such are visions of being commanded to disrobe and socialize in a room of fully clothed amused women.
Week after week, the internet interludes become longer... deeper in peeling the onion so to speak of this growing... seemingly growing... form of social interaction.
The pinnacle comes when I find and join a message board which is more than just an exchange of thoughts and messages. These people actually meet once or twice per month! And they’re based in Hamilton, a town some fifty miles away.
I become a moth about the candle, the location far enough away such that my real name will not be known... face not to be recognized... no one will know me... yet close enough to drive without burden.
Yes, I become known as ‘Erecting Dave’, my online appellation alluding to my employment in designing and engineering industrial structures.
So I communicate, responding to posts, many of which include photos... faces blurred... from the latest munch or cocktail party... slowly mustering the fortitude to attend.
Yes, slowly, for as stated I am shy, and the rules of the gatherings are strict. The clothing of male attendees is collected and locked away upon entry to the home, club or catering hall of the party. Women are in charge, to be obeyed. Any touching is one dimensional... males to be freely examined... females discouraged from permitting reciprocation. And in reading of the various contests, my breathing becomes labored with an odd combination of disbelief, denial that such excites, and a yearning to attend and observe.
But to do so requires fortitude which I have not. Males are stripped! There are no casual male observers. At the Hamilton soirees, one is either humbly naked or a fully clothed empowered woman.
Finally, just as this moth tires of winging about the candle, the Hamilton group organizes a Halloween gathering. Males will have covering! Masked in a hood. Such added anonymity further emboldens, any photos neglectfully posted without the photo shopped blur will remain innocuous.
Dare I attend?
Sunday, December 23, 2018
New Story Coming
As a Christmas gift, look Tuesday morning, eastern standard time, for a snippet from my latest effort, 'Diapered'... hopefully to be available by year end.
A good holiday to all.
CB
A good holiday to all.
CB
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