DOLLFACE

Andrea Fitzpatrick

Our Real Love Dolls™ come certified by discriminating quality professionals. Customer service technicians (minimum 12 yrs. Engineering experience) are standing by to take your call! All of our dolls are clean, safe, silent AND individually injected with pleasure.

In case you find yourself wondering exactly what “pleasure” means, we’ve asked a professional research scientist to explain the precise meaning of the term; this way, we hope you’ll have a clearer understanding of all the hard work that goes into making these incredible dolls – which are 100% satisfaction guaranteed!

“Example (1) Eating a tangerine. Slicing fragrance of the dimpled smooth skin with the corner of a sticky fingernail. The flesh is peeled away by your tiny child hands, white as muddy wet plaster on the underside of the surface of globular skin. The sections of fruit, offered up clean, in perfectly child sized wedges. The harmonious pulp of nature splits open upon the fungiform papillae. Example (2) Another memory from my childhood: between alphabetical songs about goodness, on the sticky blue toddler maps placed over the floor, we children of 2 and 3 and 4 would curl up in 2s and 3s and 4s and drift off into sleep. Sister Theresa would scratch the small of my back with the innocent deft of nunnerly fingers as I would wade happy into the liminal state of naptime. Example (3) We are all children. We are all children; the pull of the sun. The skinned knee of a bike after ice cream. We are all children. Sticky fingers. The warm gentle milk of a mothering fold. Smothering. The ghost of my favorite dog, Rusty. Children, O children: coming home.”

- Dr. Willis, Research Scientist


Real Love Dolls™ are the finest examples of pleasure that money can buy. They feature:



Please allow 10-12 weeks for delivery. All Real Love Dolls™ are shipped via a fully insured courier service. Each doll comes shipped in an unmarked padded 6'x2'x2' crate, hung safely by a neck bolt, complete with double-lock restraints and removable mounting bracket for storage.


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I can barley contain my excitement. My Real Love Doll™ arrived today - Doll #53487-A (I call her “Esmerelda”). She is better than I could have ever imagined. She is the perfect woman. I’ve got to send a testimonial to the manufacturer.


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The neck bolts are uncomfortable.


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The first night I kept her in storage, because the “Use and Care Guidelines” were pretty clear about this. The mounting bracket was a little bit difficult to install, but, you know, it’s worth it. The restraints seem to leave a weird sort of indentation mark on the notochord which looks exactly like the print of a Mottled Petrel’s claw, but this indentation is really only noticeable if I want to do her embryo style, and the indentation disappears after a few hours anyway, so I guess it’s no big deal. Besides, we had such a wild time last night, I just completely passed out next to her. Woke up with my fist in her cranial fossa storage cavity; not really sure how that happened, but it was nice. Waking up next to Esmerelda, like that.


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Then, quite suddenly, my empty head filled up with flesh.


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My only real complaint so far is that they sent the wrong flavor eyes. I specified on the order form that I’d prefer Piña Colada flavor, but they definitely don’t taste like Piña Colada. I think they sent Black Licorice instead, which is simply disgusting and actually a huge turn off.

I haven’t let it get in the way of our lovemaking though; I’ll just stop licking her eyes until they send me Piña Colada replacements. They better not try to charge me for this, since they’re the ones who got the order wrong in the first place.


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He licked my eyes, just a few times. I think he was trying to lubricate them, so I could rotate them on my own. I can’t yet, but I’ll keep trying. For him.


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Ezzie is such a dirty slut. Last night, I dressed her up like meter maid.

“No parking in the red zone!” I screamed.

“Your tailpipe is in violation!”

“Passenger side door must remain unlocked at all designated intervals!”

It was hot. I guess I got a little too excited, but maybe I can glue the hair back onto her skull if I’m real careful about it. I managed to rotate her left leg back, flush along her spine; I’m not sure if that’s standard, but I ain’t complaining.

It was pretty cold last night, so I ended up falling asleep with three fingers jammed into each one of her ears. I don’t think the holes were that deep, initially, but it wasn’t too hard to work them open, once I got started. The silicone was warm as a nest.


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My eyes rotated in their sockets last night. I’m not sure if this is something I managed on my own, or if it was simply the force of the blow.

He kept screaming. I think he was trying to tell me something very important; he must have been frustrated that I couldn’t hear him, so he opened up my ears to make it easier for me.


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I think I may have busted up the vacuum mechanism in her throat, accidentally. I can’t help it; I just get so turned on.

Maybe I got a little carried away last night ramming all those adjudications down her throat, but the sound of the crumpled paper against the gummy interior of her mouth and esophagus is something I’ll never forget.

When it was finished, though, she looked so stupid with her mouth all full of adjudications like that. I must have stuffed them too deep, because when I slid my fist down there to remove them all, there were complications.

I’ll call the manufacturer. I need to get those replacement eyeballs, anyway.


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He wants me to answer him. He knows I can see him; I can hear him. He must want an answer.


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“Yeah, you like dressing up as Cindy Crawford, don’t you baby?”

I love you.

“Fuck!”


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“I don’t know what the fuck. I was just minding my own business and then she started making these weird noises. It ruined the mood. I didn’t order a voice box. And look; the eyes were the wrong flavor. Are you sure you didn’t send me someone else’s doll?”

“Our dolls don’t come with voice boxes.”

“Well, this one won’t shut the fuck up.”

“Have you been storing it properly?”

“What the hell should that have to do with it?”

“You’re gonna have to open her up.”

“What?”

“One of our engineers may have made an error.”

“Fuck.”

“I’ll have a more experienced technician will call you right back.”


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I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.


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“If you don’t have a jigsaw, I guess a steak knife will probably work fine. I’ll stay on the line and walk you through this.”

“It’s still talking.”

“Just ignore it.”

“Okay.”

“Begin at the sternum.”

“What?”

“Begin at the base of the neck. Insert the blade in a swift, downward motion. The cut should extend to the navel.”

“What am I looking for?”

“Once you’ve made the first incision, create a few smaller perpendicular incisions at the top and bottom. Basically, you’re drawing an uppercase I.”

“Are you going to replace the whole doll, or just the torso?”

“When you’ve finished the incision, simply peel the skin back and tell me what you see.”

“Jesus. Fucker.”

“Sir?”

“...”

“Sir, what do you see?”

“There’s so much blood-”

“Sounds like you weren’t storing her properly.”

“There’s a heart.”

“We’ll send you a new torso immediately.”

“It’s beating.”

“We apologize for the inconvenience.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Tell you what: we'll include three free sets of replacement eyes with the torso, as a gesture of customer service. What flavor did you say you prefer?”

“Piña Colada.”


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I haven't even replaced the receiver in the cradle yet when I notice that one of her eyeballs has popped out of her skull. The squishy ball of licorice gleams against the light that bleeds from the kitchen ceiling. Some lint from the linoleum is sticking to the side.

What's more, the empty socket is filling up with blood (which, quite accidentally, I have discovered tastes just like marmalade).

I have to admit. It's kind of sexy.

Andrea Fitzpatrick has no plans for the future. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Caketrain, Hobart, DIAGRAM, Night Train & VOX, among others. She is also an associate editor for Mad Hatters' Review, a multi-media journal of experimental writing.
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