The Voice of Change

“Can you talk to me?” he asked the silky disembodied voice in the darkness.

“Of course baby,” she answered, her voice so close he thought he could feel her breath on the back of his neck. “What do you want me to talk about?”


“Do you want it to be dirty?”

“No,” he said, clenching his already closed eyes. “Not dirty.”

“Ok baby, no problem. I can tell you about myself,” she suggested.

“Tell me.” He readied himself to absorb all the details.

“My name is Sofia,” the voice said, so naturally that if he didn’t already know better he might have been fooled by the name. “I’m Five foot five. I have long black hair down to my bottom. I’m a “C” cup with perfect brown skin.” She went on but he stopped listening. He focused on the color of her skin in his mind’s eye, capturing it. “Still there baby?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Tell me about you.” She purred in his ear. “What do you look like?”

“If I tell you will you tell me more?”

She offered a deep breathy laugh, not unpleasant. “Of course baby. That’s how a conversation works. I tell you something. You tell me something then I tell you more.” Her pause was mechanical but only to him, “So much more.”

“I’m six foot,” he said and nothing more. There was nothing more to tell. Soon he would be different. He was changing. He was bored with who he was. Tonight he had chosen to become someone else. To tell her anything more about himself would be a waste of time. It would all be a lie in a few minutes anyway. Unlike her, he was not paid to lie.

Again she purred. She could be an artist and the purrs were her masterstrokes. “Tall huh? I bet your-”

“Dark and handsome too?” he finished for her in a striking imitation of her voice.

She giggled. He was glad. She was suspicious of nothing.

“Yeah, exactly baby. Tall, dark and handsome. I like tall guys.” Had he said he was Four Foot Two she would have loved short guys too. She might have even gone a step further and explained that she liked holding them and cuddling them. He knew it because he had heard it before; when he was short.

“What are you doing baby?” Her voice was getting deeper. It was moving from mysterious and captivating to outright erotic. That’s not what he wanted. He steered her back to what he did want.

“What color are your eyes?” he wanted to know.

Again that purr, “Hazel. Tonight they’re a bit more green. I think it has something to do with the moonlight.” There was no moon out that night. He knew it because it was the night of the new moon; when he could change, become someone new. If he chose to. He let this fact slide because it added to her mystery. She was reading from a script she had long since memorized and may have even believed was true by now. If she believed the façade than it would make the change easier.

“That sounds beautiful,” he said, meaning it, even if she didn’t. “Green eyes are so provocative. What about my lips.”

“Oh baby, my lips are full and red,” she answered, not seeming to notice what he had said. “My bottom lip is just a little plumper than my upper. They’re perfect for-”

“Tell me about your shape,” He knew what she was going to say they were perfect for and had no interest in hearing it. “What is your shape? What are you wearing?”

“I’m an hourglass baby. I‘m wearing red lingerie and a pink corset.”

He saw her. In his mind he saw her completely. Already he felt different. He was quiet. Keeping her image in his head. Freezing it. Absorbing it.

“You there?” She asked for the second time.

He was quiet long enough for her to almost ask it a third time. When she did her voice would sound more anxious, tainting the woman of enchanting confidence he saw now, not what he had wanted. “I’m here,” he answered. His voice was softer, lighter. “Sofia?”

“Yeah baby?”

Now he asked the question he asked to each person he spoke to on the night of the new moon. The question that sealed it all and changed him for at least another month. “Would you give yourself to me?”

“Yes baby. I so would.” She held out the ’so’ stretching it out into her final purr.

“Give yourself to me,” he said in a voice that was now his.

There came no reply. It was done.

He closed his cell phone and stood from the mattress he had been lying on. He went to the door of his room and ventured two feet down the corridor to the bathroom where he entered.

Flicking on the light switch just inside the door he went to the mirror and saw himself.

His hazel, more green, eyes took in his hourglass shape. Dark hair traveled from the peak of his head down to his bottom. The red lingerie and pink corset glowed against his brown skin. With his full red lips he said in a silky voice, “Sophia.”

Downstairs, on the back of a dining room chair was a long grey trench coat. He had gotten it, when he was a reporter and also used it when he was a detective. Now he used it to cover up his body. Not for a very long time had he been a woman and had no clothes that fit him any longer. He was looking forward to the experience again.

Garbed in lingerie and a trench coat he went out into the night, intending to find adequate clothing. As he walked he smiled beneath the absent light of the new moon.


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