Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
I groan, moving my arms to where I’m holding her up with handfuls of her luscious ass, hike her up a little higher, and bury my face between her tits, where I growl, “Oh gods—now she’s talking nerdy to me? How can I resist her when she quotes Natasha Romanoff?”
CHAPTER 6
Twyla
The next day, I finally do what I’ve been avoiding since my mortifying misunderstanding two days before. I arrive at Toys for Twats an hour before opening, so I can have some alone time to study the intimacy companion in peace, without having to worry about employees, friends, or family members making me feel awkward.
I’m a scientist, dammit, and I’m curious as hell to check this thing out.
I slowly approach the cardboard box in the back room, which is damn near the size of a coffin. If it weren’t for the neon-pink packaging tape and cutesy lettering boasting SEX DOLL on the outside, it would give off an eerie vibe. Like at any moment, a long, sharp fingernail could pop through the tape holding the two flaps together and slowly slice down the center, before a vampire stands up out of it, brushing off the Styrofoam peanuts and spotting me across the room—then makes me its next meal.
The image inside my head is terrifying… until a flash of Crystal as a burlesque-dancing vampiress replaces it, and I smile and shake my head, knowing how badass she must’ve looked in her costume. I’ll have to ask to see a picture at my next lesson this afternoon.
I stand over the box with renewed confidence and eagerness, my box cutter in hand, and bend to slit the tape from end to end. When I open the flaps, I see my imagination was wrong about the packing peanuts. Instead, it’s a solid piece of Styrofoam that’s been molded to fit the companion perfectly inside the box. The doll looks less real than in the photos, but that’s not what matters to me. It’s the texture of its “skin” that I’ve been dying to feel after I read all the scientific details about what they used and the techniques involved to create it.
With a hesitant hand, I find myself biting my lip in anticipation as I use the side of my pointer finger to stroke down the companion’s cheek, much like I’ve always done to my daughter when she’s fast asleep.
I gasp and jerk away, unconsciously rubbing the finger with my other hand. “Holy shit,” I whisper, and I kneel next to the life-size toy to get a closer look. This time, I trail my fingertips down the nose, then across the shapely lips, which I know can be opened with the remote it comes with. Inside the companion’s “vagina,” there’s a sleeve made of the same material that can be filled with lube and used as a male masturbator. Thankfully, it’s easily removeable for sanitation purposes, is reusable, and can be replaced for an extra cost if… overused.
But I don’t bother checking all of that. I’m currently stuck on the fact that the toy’s lips feel soft and plump, without being too firm, the way a lot of dildos claiming to feel “lifelike” do. I even reach up with my opposite hand to prod at my own full lips at the same time I poke the doll’s, and it’s astonishing how similar we feel to each other.
I pull back, impressed and mostly satisfied after waiting so long to test the texture. I’m about to stand up and get started on a display for the new inventory, but my eyes catch on the cleavage peeking over the top of the standard schoolgirl uniform featured in so many magazines and pornos. The top three buttons of the white shirt are undone, while the bottom is tied up to show off an unnaturally tiny waist that disappears into a short, green plaid skirt. I bite my lip again, turning to look over my shoulder. Even though I know I’m alone, and should be for the next forty-five minutes, with the front door locked—which would ring a bell if it opened, plus set off a chime here in the back—I can’t help but feel like I’m going to get caught if I act on the urge that just filled my head.
I turn back to the companion, which looks like a life-size anime character more than an actual human, and something about its eyes being closed makes me feel safer to act on my urge, but also kind of worse, like I’m taking advantage of it while it’s sleeping.
I shake my head at myself. “God, Twy. Don’t be stupid. It’s not alive. It’s just a toy,” I remind myself quietly, and with the scientist inside me taking control over the shy and easily embarrassed parts of me, I reach out with a steady hand and cup the top of the companion’s breast. The heel of my palm settles into the cleavage while my fingertips land somewhere near the armpit, and I squeeze.