almost okay

I was hungover the day the crates arrived, the delivery guy dumping them in the driveway after securing my illegible chicken scratch on the shipping receipt. I put on my robe and made a pot of coffee, then stumbled out into the daylight to check out the goods. It was a little after noon.

The boxes were heavy, so I grabbed my handcart and rolled them through the side door and down the steps to the basement. My blood was pumping pretty hard by then, the exertion helping to kill the hangover a little. I took a break and drank some coffee.

It probably would have been easier to open them outdoors then drag the girls inside, but I didn't want my neighbors to see what I was doing. Most of them already thought I was strange, and watching me carry a couple of faceless female love dolls into the house wouldn't do much to improve my reputation as an eccentric.

After fifteen minutes of pry bar work I had the first crate open. Right away I noticed that it was wearing a wig. I thought I had skipped the expensive hair piece in favor of buying my own here at the Korean Beauty Supply up on Eight Mile. I checked the shipper and the confirming order form. What I had was the standard wig, which was included. Apparently custom wigs were what really added to the cost. It didn't look bad, so I figured it was one less thing I had to do.

My aborted attempt to build a time machine a while back had left me with a box filled with small motors and gears that I was planning to adapt to the dolls in order to make them move more realistically in bed. They didn't need to do much, maybe just wave their asses a little.

I pulled the Jessica doll out of the crate, put her on the couch face down and stripped her clothes off looking for some kind of access door to her insides. By the time I had her naked, I realized I was sporting some major wood. My hands were trembling as I reached down and grabbed her ass. It felt good. Real good. And except for being a tad cold, it felt real. Really real. Five minutes later I was collapsed on top of her in a full sweat, my pants around my ankles, my rapidly sagging wood still inside of her.

Shit, maybe I don't even need faces on these bitches, I thought. But, no... I'd get tired of doggy-style at some point for sure, and that hole on her faceless head wasn't much of a turn-on. Nope, I couldn't take the lazy way out. They'd need the faces.

I had already ordered some silicone rubber online from a company called Polytech. They use the stuff in movies for special effects dummies. All I had to do was sculpt life-size likenesses of the girls' faces, make molds, fill them, attach the faces to the dolls, then paint and touch up. The tricky part was going to be getting the lips to fit over the hole for the mouth.

I wasn't sure how I was going to make the teeth, either. I wondered if I could carve them out of wood, then paint them white. No, too much of a risk for slivers. Maybe I could get a mail order pair of dentures over the Internet.

Suddenly I felt terribly overwhelmed. There was so much work to do I didn't know where to begin.

I checked the clock; it was a little after two. I poured myself a drink, pulled the Beyonce doll out of her crate, ripped her clothes off and gave it to her high and hard standing up.

I sure as hell wasn't tired of doggy-style yet.




Next time: Maybe I'd never get tired of doggy-style...