I’m Alive! (and an excerpt from Fattening the Boss)

Hi y’all! 

Work has been incredibly brutal and is only going to get worse in the coming months. Luckily, I had a little burst of creativity over the weekend that I’m hoping to keep feeding so I can keep writing.

I haven’t gotten a ton done, but I think I’m finally getting somewhere with the new, improved version of Fattening the Boss. The first version of FtB was my first attempt at mixing feedism and femdom in my writing, and honestly, it just isn’t all that great. I didn’t have a great sense of who the characters were or how I wanted them to interact. I wasn’t totally sure how I was going to develop their relationship or Monica’s growth. So it fizzled out.

But since then, I think I’ve learned a lot more about storytelling and what I want this project to be. I’m not sure how long I’m going to make it at this point or even exactly where it’s going to go, but I feel like I’m on the right track.

I’ll leave the opening of the new version here for you to enjoy. Lemme know what you think!

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Camden was cute. He was deferential but capable. I could throw anything on his desk and know the task would be completed as diligently and efficiently as possible. Our interactions were always cordial and professional. We didn’t do the fun, hip startup culture thing at our company, and he seemed perfectly fine with that. The line was always clear: I was his boss, he was my subordinate, and we didn’t have much of a relationship beyond that.

But women like me are greedy. Every time he walked into my spacious, well-lit office, I imagined getting up and closing the door. I imagined asking him to strip while I sat on my desk, legs crossed in my pencil skirt, arms folded. He would, of course, look as sculpted as I always assumed he was beneath his button-up shirts, and be wearing the most delicate lace panties. At this point, the fantasy really began to break down in logic. A strap-on would appear from somewhere, and he would eagerly bend over with his hands braced against the edge of my desk, murmuring something about having “waited for this for so long.”

And then I would bite my lip and give my head a little shake and remind myself that I was at work and had no time for fantasizing, especially not about a direct report. I was a pervert, but I strove to be an ethical one.

So, for nearly a year, I held myself to that. We only spoke on a professional level. I tended to avoid outings with coworkers in general, but on the rare occasions when I did join everyone for a few drinks after hours, I kept my distance from Camden. This seemed to be an effective strategy… until I realized it was destroying my love life.