'Surrendering Maleness', Segment One

Sequel to Denial. Limited snippets to be posted.

Enjoy.

CB

*****

Surrendering Maleness

(Sequel to Denial)

Copyright 2020

by Chris Bellows

The harridan administrative assistant Wanda Worthington opens the door to my makeshift office.

“There’s a telephone call for you, Robert,” her kind and matronly voice belying the harshness of her supervision over me. “You my take it out here. I won’t give you your pants. No one is here to see you in your diaper.”

I put down the polishing rag and push away one of many black leather knee high boots, the favored footwear of employer Ms. Mae Mallory. It’s good to get out of the tiny windowless chamber... a closet next to Miss Wanda’s desk converted to my workplace... yes, I am closely supervised. But as always I am apprehensive of encountering a coworker visiting the executive suite. For I am indeed diapered, my advanced state of chastity bringing a near constant flow from reproductive glands denied any form of relief. Ms. Mallory insists it is best to labor naked without concern for soiling my slacks, from the waist down my only covering a fluffy cloth diaper... shoes and socks deemed silly looking.

I step out the door into the large reception area where Miss Wanda reigns, cautiously peering about for interlopers. Why the concern? I often ask myself. The letter of Dr. Fromm... detailing my condition, a submissive masochistic male who placed himself under the tutelage of a keyholder... first went to the Human Resource Department of Mallory Products. Who and how many read of my steel encased penis and resulting denial I have no clue. It may have been loosely passed about before arriving at the desk of Wanda Worthington and then Ms. Mae Mallory. So veiling myself may be futile... half the office may be aware.    

I see a blinking light on the phone on Miss Wanda’s desk, my call on hold. Seeing no one I step to the desk hoping to bypass the frequent embarrassment.

“I need to check you Robert. Be a good boy.”

Not quick enough. I turn and obediently step to the aging woman of authority placing my hands to my head. A withered left hand slips to my lower back, gliding beneath the diaper to teasingly squeeze my right cheek and hold as the right hand likewise glides beneath at the front, smoothing down the steel mesh of the cock cage to of course find an abundance of moisture.

“You do secrete, Robert. It must be so frustrating for you,” smiling wickedly. “Just as you so much enjoy it all.”

The hands retract.

“Take the call. I’ll need to change you in a little while,” gloating in her sense superiority.

To her desk, I press the blinking button.

“Robert Partland.”

“Robert, it’s Nurse Mindy from Dr. Fromm’s office. Been licking your eyebrows?” she regularly jibes, referencing the medical procedure that brought to my tongue enhanced flexibility.

I have no snappy answer, but must wonder if the girl of some eighteen years of age is aware of just how my tongue’s recently gained strength and agility is utilized.

“Dr. Fromm wants me to advise you she has the key... to your chastity device. That your keyholder has concurred that your penis should be podded,” the plainly spoken words bringing me to bristle. “Would you like to set up an appointment... make arrangements.”

Stunned, learning the day will finally come, I search for a response. Keyholder Miss Joan Gifford has never unlocked me, deeming my manhood superfluous with the advanced oral training. And it’s been many months since I last saw my penis.

“Well... what will it involve?”

“You report here on a given morning. Dr. Fromm does the reverse orchidopexy, inserts the holding posts and performs a urethral reroute. You stay the night in our recovery room and the  next day, assuming the epidermis has not rejected the posts, the pod is set... permanently,” Nurse Mindy seeming to suppress glee in destining a male to a state of androgyny.

“I... well... I need to...”

“Come now, Mr. Partland... you know it’s best for you. You’ll be nice and smooth there... no more hideous mass of steel... no more blue sac... and we’ve ordered a pretty pink pod for you. No black. Don’t you want to look pretty?” her tone that of encouraging a child.  

“I’ll need to call back, arrange some time off work,” eager to end the annoying exchange.

“A Thursday is best, Mr. Partland. If all goes well we’ll release you on a Friday and you can spend the weekend recovering... or licking wherever it is you so much enjoy licking.”

The taunt suggests she knows of my Saturday nights, pleasing a bevy women who have no use for a male appendage... nor a male... but for a lively tongue.  

I bid adieu, placing the phone on the cradle. A smirking Miss Wanda steps before me, arms akimbo. I bow my head in shame, knowing what is to come. She points to the thick oak double doors of Ms. Mallory’s office where I endure the indignity of having my diaper changed twice per day.