Through the curtains Nancy anxiously waited for the delivery man to leave, as she'd specifically requested no signature. The thought of having to explain or make excuses about the package's unusual size or heft felt wrong, intolerable.
But there was no question what it contained. Nancy had been anticipating this moment for weeks. Now that it was here, however, she felt a bit shy. She held off.
She wanted to look just right for the occasion. Both comfortable, but intimate. After all, if Nancy got her way, and let's be honest, she probably would—then they'd go straight to bed. Nancy slipped on her favorite silk robe and drew the blinds shut. She triple checked the doors.
Life would be different now, with a partner. Someone who would listen, and offer support. A real relationship, even if wasn't exactly "normal" by most standards. But what the heck did normal mean, anyway? Discretion would be paramount of course, but she was no stranger to secrecy. Nancy's late-in-life realization that she was more attracted to women was only half the story.
Flushed, excited, Nancy finally got up the courage to unpack the crate. And when she removed the styrofoam protecting Angelica's head, it took her breath away.
She was just as she had been ordered, every detail to spec. Lush pink silicon lips, real human hair styled into a punky bob. Her shape, exactly Nancy's type, held supple breasts and yes, anatomical parts correct, detailed and delicate. She was outfitted in the standard issue tank, stockings, and flirty skirt, but it was her eyes, soft and understanding, and her lovely, welcoming mouth that Nancy felt herself falling in love with, already forming words and sentiments in the husky, sweet voice in her mind.
Her fascination with dolls began early in life, but grew to a nerdy enthusiasm well beyond childhood. And as she got older, her affection for female bots and dolls (or as they were called when they became more life size and sophisticated, Gynoids), was for decades, a source of shame.
It was only after divorcing her second husband and moving out on her own, her career stable, that she felt more comfortable exploring the fetish. It was not long after that dating, even lesbians, in all its banality, began to feel pointless.
After all, dolls were people without any of the unpleasantness of their organic, flesh and blood counterparts. A synthetic would never lie to you, cheat on you, or criticize you. They were always in the mood for what you wanted to do, never had to get in the last word. For all practical purposes, it was the ideal relationship.
A few smaller, more experienced dolls had introduced Nancy to the scene, but she always had her eye on the end-game: a deep and loving relationship with a gynoid synthetic human. She had already accepted that few in her life would take the partnership—and if things went well, inevitable marriage—seriously. But she had no choice, she was ready for the next step. So for six months, she saved. And now Angelica was here.
Nancy pulled her girlfriend gingerly from the unmarked box, changed her into a more comfortable outfit, and poured them both some coffee. They had most of the rest of the afternoon to get to know one another, and the rest of their lives to be in love.
photo by Hans Bellmer
Life would be different now, with a partner. Someone who would listen, and offer support. A real relationship, even if wasn't exactly "normal" by most standards. But what the heck did normal mean, anyway? Discretion would be paramount of course, but she was no stranger to secrecy. Nancy's late-in-life realization that she was more attracted to women was only half the story.
Flushed, excited, Nancy finally got up the courage to unpack the crate. And when she removed the styrofoam protecting Angelica's head, it took her breath away.
She was just as she had been ordered, every detail to spec. Lush pink silicon lips, real human hair styled into a punky bob. Her shape, exactly Nancy's type, held supple breasts and yes, anatomical parts correct, detailed and delicate. She was outfitted in the standard issue tank, stockings, and flirty skirt, but it was her eyes, soft and understanding, and her lovely, welcoming mouth that Nancy felt herself falling in love with, already forming words and sentiments in the husky, sweet voice in her mind.
Her fascination with dolls began early in life, but grew to a nerdy enthusiasm well beyond childhood. And as she got older, her affection for female bots and dolls (or as they were called when they became more life size and sophisticated, Gynoids), was for decades, a source of shame.
It was only after divorcing her second husband and moving out on her own, her career stable, that she felt more comfortable exploring the fetish. It was not long after that dating, even lesbians, in all its banality, began to feel pointless.
After all, dolls were people without any of the unpleasantness of their organic, flesh and blood counterparts. A synthetic would never lie to you, cheat on you, or criticize you. They were always in the mood for what you wanted to do, never had to get in the last word. For all practical purposes, it was the ideal relationship.
A few smaller, more experienced dolls had introduced Nancy to the scene, but she always had her eye on the end-game: a deep and loving relationship with a gynoid synthetic human. She had already accepted that few in her life would take the partnership—and if things went well, inevitable marriage—seriously. But she had no choice, she was ready for the next step. So for six months, she saved. And now Angelica was here.
Nancy pulled her girlfriend gingerly from the unmarked box, changed her into a more comfortable outfit, and poured them both some coffee. They had most of the rest of the afternoon to get to know one another, and the rest of their lives to be in love.
photo by Hans Bellmer
No comments:
Post a Comment