The Operator

Considering all I've admitted so far, I find it odd to admit that I've called phone sex lines.  I found myself at this point in my life realizing that I needed to work some things about my feminization.  For a long time, I looked at it as something cool that happened in my past, but I didn't really see it as a part of me.  I needed to talk to somebody about it, but who?  I wasn't exactly ready to tell my friends or family about it.  Even my sister, who knew about my past, I preferred thinking it was purely in my past.  I hadn't dressed in a long time and I was kind of confused.  In some ways, I was a sissy in remission.

Some of the women I called were real duds, but the good ones could be amazing.  I talked to intelligent, outgoing, fun women and then a really amazing thing.  I became friends with some of them.   There was some role play and even some humiliation play, but the best part was just talking.  One of the girls who is more than 5 years younger to me, has her act so much more together than I do that she has felt like a big sister to me.  She's the one who talked me into writing this stuff down. 

The Operator grew out of conversations with actual Nite Flirt operators.   None of them would do what the flirt does in my story, but they all had a lot of calls from guys who were "ordered to call by their wife/mistress" and they all told me how much those calls drove them crazy.   Yes, I seriously did research to make this as true to life as I could.  I'm writing erotica, but I never want to feel that I'm only writing erotica. 

Bob owns a very successful business, but he's also socially awkward.  Clare is a young woman with a fine arts degree who is paying her bills working as a phone sex operator.  When Bob manages to get on Clare's last nerves by telling her what his obviously non-existent mistress wants her to do him, she finally snaps.  The next time he calls, she tells him she talked to his mistress.  Before he knows it, she's got him trapped and blackmails him into a very humiliating feminization process.  This may just be the best thing that ever happenned to him.

This is a very traditional romance with very non-traditional characters.  I think this story is one of my better ones, if it isn't too out there for readers to get behind.  Here's a sample:

"You don't seem very comfortable walking on heels, though.  Do you mind if I help?" she offered cheerily.

He nodded sheepishly.  He had no idea of the girl was trying to embarrass him further, or simply being friendly, but in either case who could feel himself flush with humiliation and felt sweat dripping down his back despite the store being very heavily air conditioned.  She led him over to the mirror and had him watch himself as he walked towards it. 

Unbeknownst to Bob, while this was happening, her friends surreptitiously crept over to where he was sitting.  The saleswoman's attention was momentarily diverted by a customer, but they were pretty sure that she wouldn't have stopped them anyway.  They recognized Bob from his shop where he had kicked them out for loitering.  Now the show was on the other foot or maybe justice was shoeless this time.  They each took one of his shoes and slipped them in their purses along with his socks.

"Now, you need to walk like you're walking on an imaginary straight line and sway those hips.  Guys really like it when your caboose is swaying," she smiled as she gave an exaggerated walk for him.  "Now, you try."

Bob began to do his best to mimic her ultra-feminine gait.

"This is tough," he said in frustration.

"You'll get it.  Remember, land on the balls of your feet, not your heel," she advised.

Bob finally did get a little bit better and thanked Ashlee for her expert coaching.  She caught up to her friends and they exited the store laughing as they went.  Bob decided that the second pair of sandals were the most comfortable and informed the saleswoman that he would take them relieved that his ordeal was over.  He looked for his own shoes so that he could get changed.

"Where are my shoes?" he asked the saleswoman in a panic.

"I don't know.  I assumed you were old enough to keep track of your own shoes," she snickered.

"I think those girls took them," offered one of the women who had been watching Bob's embarrassment. "I'm sorry; I thought the girls were with you."

"No," cried Bob as he got to his feet and rushed to the entrance of the store. 

"Sir, I know you don't want to leave without paying for your shoes.  I am sure you don't want me calling mall security," warned the saleswoman.

"Here's my card," he sniffled pulling his wallet from his pants pocket.

The saleswoman took her time ringing up the sale and putting the pumps and the shoe box for the sandals that Bob was now wearing into the bag.    She smiled and handed the bag to Bob saying, "Come back soon."

             Bob rushed out of the store or at least moved as fast as the delicate heels could carry him.  Immediately, he drew the laughs and stares of a large number of shoppers.  The clicking of the heels on the cobblestone mall of the store alerted people to his presence.  In his panic, Bob had yet to roll down his pants leg, which only made his appearance that much more comical.  It was past 9:30.  Buying the shoes had taken much longer than he thought it would.

P.S.  I had my first Halloween party last night.  It went great.  I'll share soon.