His pocket-pussy-toy-thing wasn’t charging anymore. Fuck. It kept a charge at first, but he wasn’t exactly done when it died again. It worked for one good round and then just sort of—stopped. Wanting to strangle something, he’d plugged it in with his laptop charger, and a charging light went on, but it just… didn’t work. Turned on and off again. Checked the port for debris. Was none. 

Stupid thing was–stupid. Probably his fault for buying it in the first place. Well, definitely his fault. 

In a horny, months post-breakup haze he’d grabbed the first toy from the first website he could find, even though it was probably (definitely) a shady advertisement artificially popped to top results. 

Troubleshooting was pretty useless. Couldn’t find any tech articles for the exact product. Barely any mention of the brand online. Only a few human-run forums had similar models with similar questions—general consensus was to either give up on it or check the manual. Mostly, the advice was to check the manual. A lot of comments saying to check the manual, actually. 

“Just great.” He leaned back into the pillows, the faded arousal leaving him cold. The delivery box with the instructions still crumpled inside was by the entrance, wasn’t it? Ugh. 

He stood up and marched out–fully naked from the ass down–to snatch the paper from its box, abandoned by the front door until he bothered his lazy ass to throw it into recycling. 

He plopped back onto his sheets, unfolding the thing until it seemed to cover half the cover with small print. Well, small print besides a massive message in the middle:

CUSTOMER SERVICE. with some random number. 

SPECIAL CUSTOMER SERVICE. CALL FOR AN EFFICIENT TIME with another different, random number. 

“I…” He squinted down, trying to guess the difference. “I guess I like efficiency?” He wouldn’t be against calling for a good time, but apparently they were only offering efficiency, whatever that meant. 

Pulling the toy beside him, he dialed the “special” customer service. 

Flirtatious jazz blasted as he waited. Actually, he was pretty sure it was the intro to Careless Whisper. Against his dignity, his cock downright twitched.

There was a click as someone picked up. “Hi, baby.” It was a feminine voice, low and sultry. She spoke to him like she was in the room, like he was the only man in the world she cared to murmur to. “You’ve called the best customer service available. I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” He got the sense she was leaning closer to the mic, dropping into a slow whisper. “So, what do you want?”

His unsatisfied mind read double-meaning into each word, and without thinking about it he wrapped his hand around his tip. “Uh–um. Hi–”

“I see.” There was a grin in her voice as she cut him off. “You’re a stammerer?”

He flushed, then, feeling his cock harden in his grip. “I guess, yeah,” he laughed breathlessly, feeling surreal. Okay, he had definitely called some sort of line. Which was fine, great, made it less embarrassing to be talking to a real person about technical issues with a sex toy, but also he legitimately wanted his pocket-pussy back in order. 

“Don’t worry. Between you and me–” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I love the shyer ones. Makes me feel really good when I hear you relax. I’ll talk you through it, handsome. Promise. What’s the trouble?”

“I, um…” He took a deep breath, ignoring the feeling of his dick engorging. His hand was still wrapped around it, fingers twitching as he pushed down the urge to jerk. “Yeah. So I ordered a toy that came today, and it worked, and then it—stopped working.”

“Aw,” the voice on the other end of the line cooed, soft and teasing. He closed his eyes as it washed over him. “Poor thing. Did you even get to cum?”

“I–” He set the phone down on the bed and held a hand against his face, feeling the impossible heat in his cheeks. He was breathless. “Yeah.” A fuzzy feeling of embarrassment and need, equally as compelling as the other, was starting to crawl through him. He was rock-hard. 

“Oh, good. Good. Did you charge it after?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. Was he only capable of yes or no, hypnotized by her sweet voice? Yeah.

“How long did you have it in for? How long did you have to wait for more release? I bet it must have been miserable, huh? When you just wanted to play some more.” She hummed in sympathy. 

 “An…” He indulged in a single stroke, loose grip sliding from his tip to the base, to chase some relief so he could form a sentence. “L-like an hour, like it said. Um, the light was on.”

“Right, baby. And it wouldn’t turn on when you unplugged it?”

“That’s right. Like, it hummed for a split second and then like, was out of charge again.” 

“It’s a pussy you bought from us, right? We’re known for them.”

“...Yeah.”

“God.” He imagined her leaning her head back in whatever call center chair. “You must have fucked it so good. I wonder… Did you cum on a towel? Your hand? Or did you cum all over that pussy. I wish I was there to lick it clean…” 

He choked on air. 

“Is it possible you got some in the port?”

“Jesus,” he laughed through a blaze of undeniable arousal, and he gave in, rubbing a thumb over his tip, already glistening with a few drops of precum. Shit. That was good. He bit back a noise at the heightened sensitivity–he’d already orgasmed earlier today. “I–I checked,” he bit out, chewing on his lip as he rubbed circles on his tip. “It was clean. Fuck.” 

“Oh, baby. I hear something in your voice now. I like it.” Before he could respond in turn, she pressed on, and desperately he stroked up and down his shaft, chasing more of that approval next time he spoke. It felt so fucking good–not nearly as good as if he’d just fucked the toy, without this voice swimming in his head. 

“Aw,” the voice on the other end of the line purred, and he sucked in an inhale, spitting out into his hand for lubricant and heightening his speed with desperation. “You rough in bed? Or soft and sweet? How’d you pound it, chasing that sweet release? Did you rattle that cunt around a little? Drop it anywhere?” 

Fuck. Fuck, it felt good. Before he could reply, she whispered, “Keep touching yourself. I can hear your panting.” 

“Fuck,” he cussed aloud, the slickness of his sweat turning the hot friction heavenly. “Okay, you’re good at this. Uh—dropped it. No. Just—just pounded that tight little pussy.” 

“Have you tried turning it on and—“

“Off again. Yeah,” he gasped, a tiredness in his arm making it ache early as it slid up and down, tingling pleasure following each wet run. Neither his muscles nor delayed orgasm would last long, which was good, since he was drained from the earlier round. He wanted this, though. A little more release. 

“What I want you to do is to try a stronger plug. That little old thing for your laptop—it might be charging, but not strong enough. I want you to try that for an hour after the call and come back. If that doesn’t work, call back. It’s probably a dud, and we can get a refund and replacement faster than you can beg.” 

“What’s your name?” He pleaded, throwing his head back to expose his neck, yearning for her imaginary kisses and nibbling. Reaching underneath his shirt, he tweaked a firm nipple and a moan escaped his throat at the sharp sting of pain and pleasure, before grasping his dick back in his fist with a growing need. “What is it?” 

“Okay, baby, it’s okay. I’ll tell you.” 

He waited, feeling his blood rushing in his ears as more precum licked down from tip and moisturized the drying spit. 

Her words were so breathily and close to the microphone the soft vibration reverberated right down to his cock. “But only if you moan it back to me.” 

Fuck. He squeezed the base tightly, the heat in his core broiling. “I can do that,” he pleaded, a pathetic whine to his voice. “I’ll do it. Please.” 

And yet she waited. He pulled a tight grip up and down, his canines digging into his lower lip. 

“I can hear you’re so riled up, baby, so desperate.” 

“Yes,” he agreed, shifting up onto his knees to pump his hips in a steady rhythm against the air. “Yes, yes, please. I’ll be a good boy.” 

She hummed in amusement. He whined, feeling tears of desire well in his eyes. 

“Vanessa,” she finally whispered. 

“Vanessa,” he gasped back, a whine catching the word. “Vanessa,” he moaned again, hunching down in his thrusting to grasp a handful of cover, imagining grabbing the fat of her ass. 

“Vanessa,” she confirmed, a smile to the tone. “You sound so, so eager. Fuck, you deserve to cum.” And in the pause between her sentences, he did, the permission swelling in his core and shooting down into hot, electric spurs of cum over his hand and fingers. He writhed in the air, his humping turning into a curl upward and a collapse down against the air, sinking his teeth into the comforter in animalistic impulse as the wave faded.

Panting, the urge to cry out fading–some remnant of shame kept him biting back during the orgasm, kind of afraid to be so upfront with it over the phone–he barely registered what she’d said during. Something about transferring him soon. 

“Is there any other foreplay I can help you with today?”

Some of the afterglow died with a pang of loss at the idea she was passing him off. “T-transfer?” He asked, sitting back up, flicking semen off his fingers onto the already-soiled sheets. But she seemed to misunderstand. 

“Honey, they’ll amp up the energy. Click 1 to be transferred to the edging department and 2 to be transferred to the cumming department.”

He blinked in astonishment, cock momentarily forgotten. “...Cumming department?”

There was a click, and more of the obnoxious jazz. 

He found himself enthralled by the exact same saxophone cover of Careless Whisper before a robotic voice chimed in, Thank you for calling. All our current employees are currently finishing up other guests. Estimated weight time is ten minutes. Please hold. 

Although it had been halfway through the song, the tune restarted from the beginning. They didn’t seem to have anything else on the hold playlist. 

Post-nut clarity settled in, and he laughed aloud at the fucking ridiculousness. “Shit.” Cumming department? Edging department? …Ten minutes. Fuck, imagine if he hadn’t finished early. Ha. 

Well, he’d already ruined his sheets with his jizz, and he had a couple of solutions to his pocket-pussy problem. He hung up before he could find out what a call to a cumming department would be like. 

But not without writing down the customer service number in his notes. He wanted to remember such efficient service.