“Tempting,” Jordan whispered to himself, caressing the picture on the screen, “so very tempting.”

Two weeks had passed since he first met her eyes looking out of his laptop. Somehow she had slipped past his ad blocker while he explored the darker recesses of his favourite porn streaming site, but something about her pure, unblemished face had made him forget everything else. Curious, he had clicked, and, just like that, she had him hooked.

Oh, there were other girls on the website it took him to, every girl imaginable—quite literally, though he didn’t know why anyone would imagine a look-a-like of Princess Fiona from Shrek—but she was the one. Deep down, he knew why.

Jennifer.

Though he would never admit it, he had never truly recovered from her departure three years prior, and this girl had her eyes. He didn’t know how, but she had Jennifer’s emerald eyes exactly. Each night, despite telling himself that it was pathetic for a thirty-one-year-old man to be looking at her and that he deserved better, he kept coming back and noticed something new each time. Whatever doubts he had as he lay in bed, stroking his cock, she would answer the following evening.

First, it was her face. What at first he could only remember as a vague blur, crystallised over the course of the first week into a likeness so close he was no longer sure if his memory was of the original Jennifer or his new obsession. Then, as he gave her more serious consideration, other details appeared on her listing. Of course, they must have always been there, but that was how it seemed to him.

“It’s almost like you are trying to seduce me this time, Jennifer.”

In what had become his nightly ritual, he opened the website of the Boutique de Lilith and read the specs for the twentieth time. Soft silicone, skin-like treatment, hand-tinted to order. Gel-filled breasts and buttocks. Advanced steel-jointed skeleton for strength and flexible posing. All three holes usable and easy to clean. Even an internal heating system. All measurements and special requests catered for. Option of real human hair—at both ends, if desired, though he snorted at that—“No thanks!”

Always willing, forever silent. 

The ultimate girlfriend. 

Now tonight, the offer had popped up the moment the website loaded. Forty per cent off. And to think I almost paid full price last night, he thought. 

His smile faded when he glanced longingly at the seat of the couch beside him, empty for three years, and sighed. The ultimate girlfriend was what he had thought he’d had before, but as always, had been let down. He turned back to the screen. Maybe not this time. This top of the range deluxe sex doll couldn’t let him down.

He drummed his fingers on the side of the laptop screen and chewed his lip, mouse hovering over Add to cart. An icy draft rattled the locked door to the basement across the hall, blew into the lounge and ran down his back, making him shiver. That small movement made his finger jerk down on the button.

“Huh. Fate, I guess.”

Figuring he had just been delaying the inevitable, he fished a worn notebook from his pocket and transcribed the measurements he had not had to use for the past few years into the relevant fields. Choosing which photos to send was simple – he already had them collected in a single folder. With only a slight tremor in his fingers, he entered his credit card details, finalised the payment, then shut the laptop and fell back on the couch.

Yes. This was a good decision, he thought.

(•_•)

Six weeks later, Jordan circled the box on the dining room floor where the courier had left it that morning, savouring the moment. Whoever had been in charge of packing it had gone overboard in sealing it, so he went to get some scissors from the kitchen. Out of habit, his fingers went to the knife block first, selecting his favourite Zwilling knife. He stopped with it halfway withdrawn.

Bit of a waste to use this to open a box, he thought, then shrugged. It’s a special occasion.

Back in the lounge, the knife slid through the packing tape like butter. He placed it carefully on the table before tentatively opening the lid and looking at the sea of polystyrene pellets. Plunging his arms in, he gripped the plastic and pulled slowly to minimise the amount of spillage until the black bag lay on the floor. The resemblance to a body bag was a little disconcerting but appealed to his rather morbid tastes as he unzipped it the whole way, resisting the temptation to pull the flap back early. Once the zip was all the way around the track, he took a deep breath and threw it open, exhaling in relief.

“Perfect,” he said as he picked up the head from between the legs of the life-size doll before him and brushed the auburn locks from her face. “You are perfect. I shouldn’t have hesitated so long. I shall call you ‘Jennifer’, after the woman you resemble. She won’t mind. She can’t mind.”

Setting the head aside, he lifted the body and set it on its feet—weighted, at extra cost, to allow it to stand unaided—and then attached the head, finding that for once the claim of being “intuitive” was justified. Complete, she stood, mute and at his mercy, giving his fingers free rein to roam greedily over the sensual contours of her body. More than once he had to wipe drool from his chin as the things he planned to do to her flashed through his mind. Those would have to wait, however.

Taped to the inside of the box was a small tin with the pills he had included in the order. He didn’t usually have any difficulty getting it up, but for this inaugural night, he wanted to last until morning. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth when he saw what colour they were. Yes, I’ll take a red pill, he chuckled as he dropped one down his throat, then set the tin aside.

“Let me dress you first.”

From the bedroom, he retrieved the clothes the real Jennifer had left that he had selected earlier. The bra had not been hers—naturally, given the opportunity, he had opted for bigger boobs—but he had succeeded in finding one that matched the black lace panties of the set he had bought her for her birthday. A short red cocktail dress she had refused to wear since that incident at his work Christmas party was the next to go on, and the stiletto heels she had always whined made her feet hurt completed the outfit. Dressed, he sat her down at the dining table and took the chair opposite to read the included booklet, snorting at the name of the model on the front.

“No, you’re Jennifer, not this other name they’ve given you,” he told the doll. He started skimming the instructions.

“Don’t use caustic cleaners—well, no shit, Sherlock,” he said, rolling his eyes. “It is recommended to use a condom? Really? What, are they worried I’m going to get you pregnant? Blah, blah, blah—clean between users? Hear that? They think you’re a slut. Maybe they knew the old Jennifer. But that’s not you, is it? You wouldn’t cheat on me.”

Despite his disparaging remarks, he grudgingly absorbed the key points about hygiene. Gritting his teeth at the reminder that she was just a toy, he nevertheless followed the instructions for filling her three lube reservoirs and found the lead for her heating system, plugging her into the power. Not seeing the use in reading the fine print, he discarded the booklet, surveyed the room, and then looked at his new acquisition.

“Yeah, you’re right, I should tidy it. You have an excuse to not do it yourself. At least you don’t nag me like she did. Wait here, it won’t take long. Then, while you finish warming up and the pill works its magic, I’ll fix us a romantic dinner. I know you won’t eat, but at least it won’t end like our last one.”

Once the floor was clear, he returned the knife to its rightful place and poured himself a glass of wine. He almost poured one for Jennifer, but stopped himself.

This is just a game, he reminded himself. Don’t start thinking she’s real.

The vegetables were already done, so he only had his steak to cook and dish up. When he brought it to the table, she was sat perfectly still, exactly as he had left her. He sighed. Well, it will be better than sitting alone, I suppose...

After putting on some music and lighting a couple of candles, he sat in his spot and tucked into his filet mignon.

“This is really good. You know, I don’t get it.” His knife flashed as he jabbed with each word. “I’m a good cook. I work out. I’ve got money. I’m nice.” That last word he spat with resentment. “Yet no woman has dated me since Jenny. Stuck up sluts.”

He gulped down some wine and looked at his companion in the low light. The candle flames danced in her green glass eyes, calm and unperturbed by his rant. His scowl softened.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.” The rest of the meal passed in silence, then he pushed his plate away and sipped his wine.

“I think you’re more beautiful than the first Jennifer,” he said, finally, reaching across to brush a stray lock from her immobile face and tuck it behind her ear. “No little hairs where they shouldn’t be. No spots. No scar from that experience you, I mean, she went on and on about. Just unblemished perfection.”

With a scrape of wood on tiles, he pushed his chair back and walked around the table to sit beside the object of his affection. After unplugging the cable from her side, he dragged his finger across the lifelike cheek and around the lips, supple like real lips, and now warmed to body temperature, then down her neck.

“Old Jennifer always complained this tickled,” he murmured, “and she never let me do this.” Pinching the shape of the nipple poking through the fabric, he gave the breast a squeeze, impressed by the realism of its weight. “At least, not often enough. It was always ‘not now, Jordan!’ or ‘Can you at least ask first?’ as if I hadn’t done exactly the same in bed the night before. Frigid bitch.”

He touched her thigh, silkier than skin.

“Better,” he whispered. “You are so much better than other women.” She’s just silicone, he repeated to himself, but his cock disagreed as his fingers walked up under her skirt.

“You’re not going to slap me away?” he mocked. “Hmm?”

With his other hand, he turned her head to face him and looked into the exquisitely painted eyes, vacant of life but otherwise near-perfect replicas of those of his ex. Something broke in him, and he leant in, planting a soft kiss on her lips, tasting a hint of the strawberry flavoured lube. He pulled back, searching her blank face for any evidence of reproach, and then pulled her to him, pushing his tongue inside and finding the limp replica equivalent within.

Filled with unrequited lust, he pawed at her fake tits and then broke away, conflicted with the shame of making out with a doll and his conviction of what real women owed yet denied him. He stood and hurriedly freed his straining member, then pulled her head down onto it by two fistfuls of her hair.

When the tip hit the back of the oral cavity, it released a flood of lubricant to ease his passage down the tunnel of her throat. Balls resting against her chin and her nose squashed into his shirt, he held her there, incapable of struggling to break free, then slowly pulled her head back, watching his shaft emerge, glistening.

Grimacing in satisfaction, he began fucking her face, pretence at romance abandoned. Though she couldn’t moan, the way the oral cavity had been constructed meant the air being forced out with every thrust caused those obscene quacking sounds he loved in porn videos. After so many weeks of anticipation, he soon felt the familiar surge and pulled out.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he growled, squeezing her supple cheeks. “Yes? Then take this!”

Spunk splattered across her unresponsive face as he emptied his balls, dripping from her chin and pooling in the open mouth, then dribbling down to soak into the dress.

“Ha!” he said triumphantly. “None of this ‘if you only asked first, I might’ bullshit with you, is there?”

Wiping his sticky dick on the skirt of the dress, he pushed her to the side so that she flopped limply, arms dangling at her side and semen dripping onto the tiles from her lips, while he drank his wine and tucked himself away.

Enjoy that?

Glancing at the doll, Jordan shook his head. He hadn’t realised Jennifer’s voice had stuck with him so vividly he could mimic it in his head like that.

Enough for now, he told himself. I don’t want to be one of those crazed loners who believes he has a real relationship with his sex doll.

As he surveyed the table, his eyes alighted on the carving knife, and he frowned. I thought I left that in the kitchen. Shaking his head at his forgetfulness, he picked it up along with his plate and went to do the washing up.

Ten minutes later, he returned with his refilled wine glass, and stood looking at his new girlfriend. She was still slumped against the wall, droplets of spunk congealing on her chin. It was only when he set the wine glass down to wipe her clean with a napkin that he noticed her hands resting in her lap. He could not recall putting them there. In fact, he had a clear recollection of leaving them loose at her sides.

You always did drink too much. Jennifer’s voice again. Irritatingly, she must be right if his mind was deciding to imagine her pissing him off.

He looked down at the still, lifeless body. She’s not alive. It’s not her fault. Nevertheless, he put far more anger into twisting her head off than was necessary.

Feel better? The detached head seemed to mock him with its emotionless stare. On more familiar ground?

“Shut up,” he mumbled, and took the head to the kitchen to flush the mouth properly, having no desire to taste his own cum when he next kissed her. “You’re just a toy.”

I bet that’s what you tell all the ladies. Or do you just think it?

The force with which he threw the head at the floor surprised even him. Just. A. Toy. That cost good money. Calm down.

Picking up the head and drying it as thoroughly as he could, he returned to the dining room and the decapitated body. For a moment, he considered calling it a night, attaching the hook to her neck and hanging her artificial corpse in his closet, but the pill was working its magic, making his dick eager for attention again. Since she was keeping quiet, he felt conciliatory, straightening the body and reattaching the head.

Sorry, sweetheart, he imagined her saying. I was only teasing. I just want you to enjoy me tonight. 

“That’s better,” he said, getting back into the roleplaying zone. Standing up, he drained his glass for the last time. “You want me to enjoy you? Then let’s go, bitch!”

He grabbed the doll by her copper tresses and dragged her out of the room. Her weight was more lifelike than he remembered when unboxing, so this was easier said than done. When he came level with the basement door in the hallway, she slipped from his grasp, so he shifted his grip to her arms—he hadn’t gone to the extra expense of having real human hair just to use once and destroy it in the first rough yank to the bed. Once in the bedroom, he heaved the toy into the middle of the sheets on her front.

Go on, fuck me like the fucktoy that I am.

“I will,” he grinned, pleased with the sudden personality change his mind had come up with as he stripped off. “Let me get you out of those clothes.” He jumped onto her back and ripped the dress open—or tried to.

Use the knife. 

“That’s in the kitch—” he began, then saw it on the bedside table. “The fuck?”

You brought it in for this purpose, remember?

“Oh.” Did I? “Yeah, I must have.”

Picking it up, he sliced away the dress, then placed the knife over on the dresser before ripping the bra and panties off by force alone. The shoes he left to feed his kink for women in nothing but heels.

“There, was it really so much to ask to wear them, Jennifer? Your replacement loves it. Now I’m going to fuck her right in your spot.”

Yeah, fuck me in all my fuckholes where you used to make love to your ex, you big manly man. Even in his imagination he couldn’t quite tell when she was being sarcastic, but he had momentum now, so didn’t care.

“That’s what I bought you for. Let’s start with your mouth again so I can look you in the eye as I ram my dick down your throat.”

He mounted her face and did just that, thrusting away and marvelling at the detail the manufacturer had put into it, from the ribbing of the trachea to the tickle of the uvula. So realistic, he could almost swear the tongue was moving on the underside of his shaft when he met her sparkling, frozen eyes.

“You like that, huh?” He slapped his slimy cock on her cheeks.

Love it. I’m you eternal fucktoy. Go on, use me. Cunt, arse, mouth—every hole. Or are you a pussy?

Jordan frowned. “No one calls me a pussy.” The eyes seemed to follow him as he moved down between her limbs. “Are you laughing at me, you worthless fuckmeat?”

I’m made of silicone and cost you ten grand, dipshit. Fuck me already.

“Oh, I’ll fuck you into tomorrow!” He was getting angry and confused. Being humiliated was definitely not a standard part of his fantasies. Why is my mind ruining this moment for me?

Lifting her legs roughly apart to expose her bald pussy lips, he thrust angrily inside. His anger dissipated immediately when the warm tunnel hugged him, already lubricated by the carefully engineered leak in the reservoir to simulate her arousal at his mere existence.

“Fuck! Best fucking toy ever!”

He began pounding away, scowling at the face that still seemed to be staring right at him. Laughing, he slapped the wobbling tits and then pulled out and pushed into her back entrance. It almost felt like the walls pulsated around him as he ravaged that tight hole and then went back into her cunt.

The sight of his girth emerging from a tight sphincter that winked shut so convincingly to then slide straight into yielding pussy was so satisfyingly wrong to him that he began alternating three thrusts in each hole. Focused on the repeated penetrations, he could feel his orgasm building. Then his eyes met that of the expressionless doll, and it was like a bucket of ice water in the face.

“Don’t laugh at me, fake fuckbitch!” he yelled, flipping the mannequin over onto her front, palm on the back of her head to press her nose into the pillow so she couldn’t look at him while he pounded her arse again. “Oh, I wanted to do you up the shitter so much, Jennifer, but you’d never have let me!”

How do you know? You never asked. I was a total anal whore with the right guy, but you weren’t him. You were never him.

“Shut up!” The slap of his thighs against gel-filled buttocks echoed off the walls as he rammed into her harder.

Yeah, that’s right, hatefuck my ghost into the doll!

“What?! Oh fuck!”

Too late. Somehow his anger went straight to his cock, and he exploded, filling the rear cavity. He rolled off, cursing at the realisation of his fantasy being ruined by his own mind playing games against him. 

What have I done to myself? he wondered. Why did I ever think it was a good idea to get a doll of the woman I... lost.

So gutless. You can’t even admit what you did to yourself, can you? Jennifer’s words were clearer than before. Coward! I fart in your general direction. 

A noise made him jump, and then he laughed as he saw the cause—trapped air escaping the imitation anus with a trickle of his cum—but his laughter died abruptly when it was joined by her giggle. That sent chills down his spine. It was a perfect imitation of the one he knew and loathed, instantly bringing back memories of her and her friends laughing together. Always at him, though she denied it.

It was hardly ever at you, actually. Did you really think we would have nothing better to talk about than my arrogant boyfriend that none of them liked?

“You’re just a toy,” he told her. “A toy that needs a good clean before I hang your carcass in my closet.” What the fuck is wrong with me?

That’s just it. It’s what’s wrong with you.

He ground his teeth. “It’s not me! I’m a nice guy! It’s women who always think they’re too good for me!”

Clenching and unclenching his fists, he forced himself to relax. “Sorry, Jennifer. It’s not your fault. My brain is being dumb, confusing new you with the old you. You’re perfect. Willing. Silent. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

Feeling bad about the brutal way he had fucked his new toy, he rolled her onto her back.

“Your designers were real geniuses. Your skin still feels as warm as mine.” He brushed the hair out of her eyes. “I’m sorry I was rough.”

“That’s okay, Jordan. I like it rough sometimes,” she replied, and he blinked. The voice no longer sounded like it was in his head. It was coming from her motionless lips. “It’s not like I have any feelings. I wanted to be used like a worthless whore. That’s why I sent you my ad.”

He scrambled back as the doll sat up and tilted her head. 

“Wh— How in the name of—? Jennifer?!”

“I’m whoever you want me to be. You have been thinking of her a lot recently. Maybe this is a lovely dream that will put your mind at rest about what happened. Do you really want it to end now, just when your toy has become an advanced sexbot worth a hundred times what you paid?”

“No, I suppose not...”

“Then go with it. Fuck me again, but gently this time. It will make you feel better. Show me what a considerate lover you think, no, know yourself to be.”

Doubting his sanity but ruled by his cock, he crawled closer again and stroked her cheek. Her face impassive, he imagined that inside she was smiling at him in forgiveness, and he kissed her. She still felt artificial and tasted of fake strawberry, but her tongue moved with his now, kissing back. He reached for her breasts, circling her permanently erect nipples with his thumbs. Warm, rubbery fingers stroked his hardness, still firm thanks to the pill.

This feels too real to be a dream, he thought. Bringing one hand to her head, he laid her down, his shaft lying across the opening he had abused so roughly scant minutes before. Their lips parted.

“You can’t be real,” he murmured.

“Oh, I’m real. Make love to me, Jordan. I need you to so I can stay like this.”

Unquestioning, he groaned and locked his lips to hers again whilst guiding his dick inside. Their bodies undulated slowly, his grunts now joined with the odd moans of the doll that rang out like they were in a cathedral. Impossibly, the manufactured vagina contracted and released around his length. Her limbs seemed to gain in strength from the weak, awkward movements of her first awakening to a tight hug that locked him to her, thrusting up to meet him as he surrendered to this strange passion for what should be an inanimate object.

The sound of lubricated silicone meeting lubricated flesh grew in volume along with her moans and cries, adding to his illusion, until his balls tightened once more and another orgasm ripped through him. He collapsed on top of her, inhaling her scentless skin until he had the strength to roll off, then lay staring at the ceiling.

“Fuck, my imagination is weird. What was in those pills?”

“It’s not your imagination. I really am alive. Look at the evidence on your dick.”

“My dick?” He looked and screamed, scrambling back to sit up. His crotch was covered in blood. “Holy shit!”

“Don’t worry. It’s my blood, not yours.” 

Looking again, he could see no cuts and felt no pain. Somehow, that fact filled him with greater horror.

“Your blood?”

“What’s the matter, Jordan?” she said, suddenly standing above him with her legs spread, slowly tracing the outline of her crimson cunt as dark red rivulets trickled down her thighs. “Didn’t you want the most realistic vagina money could buy? They tend to be connected to a uterus, you know. Maybe if you can’t handle a real one you should stick to your little microbe-pocket over there.” She nodded at his well used and questionably coloured Fleshlight on his bedside table.

Plunging two fingers between her nether lips, Jennifer—for it was finally dawning on him that it truly was her—threw her head back and moaned, rolling her palm against factory-moulded clit and tugging at her tit with the right hand. Helpless and bewildered, but unable to stop himself, he stroked his shaft in time with her, the cocktail of cum, lubricant and concentrated feminine essence that clung to it adding a pleasant texture.

“That's it, just go with the flow!” she urged.

Their moans combined as she pulled out and smeared viscous, scarlet fluid over her other breast on the way to bringing it to her mouth, both of them shaking as her unblinking eyes met his and she sucked on her fingers. Her other hand crept down to her oozing slit, teasing herself, and he loosened his fist to mimic her. Both their hips rolled in synchronisation, daring the other to be the first to break, stoking each other’s fires.

Together, they accelerated and increased the pressure of their strokes. Her legs began to tremble to the point that she sank back down to the bed, streaked legs splayed apart for her ever more vigorous thrusts. Though her face stayed an emotionless mask, her cries filled the room as she reached her climax, locking her legs shut around her arm. She kept going, her whole body convulsing before him, legs occasionally flailing open to give him a glimpse of cum- and blood-smeared vulva, only to snap shut a moment later. Mesmerised, he didn’t even notice the approach of his own orgasm, so when it came it hit like the doll’s had rolled out of her and into him, splattering over his chest.

As her shaking subsided, she straightened and looked him over, limp and drained against the head of the bed. Brushing away hair that had fallen across her face, she slowly withdrew ruby fingers from her slit and licked them clean one by one.

“You disgusting whore,” Jordan said as orgasmic euphoria receded. “I can’t believe you made me do that.”

Jennifer laughed. “I didn’t make you do anything. I thought for a moment you might have overcome your juvenile revulsion to menstruation. Apparently not. Cunts bleed, Jordan. They’re supposed to.” 

She swung her legs off the bed and walked over to look in the mirror on the door of the closet, turning her head this way and that, then sighed.

“Not bad, but lifeless. Oh well, I guess I’m still dead then.”

“Be honest, baby.” Her tone was sickly sweet as she turned back to him, but he wasn’t fooled. “What was it you wanted? A loving, doting girlfriend to worship you?” Dipping two fingers of each hand between her oozing lips again, she held one pair out to him whilst painting a love heart in the centre of her chest.

“No?” She withdrew her offering and stepped closer as his arousal crumbled into an icy ocean of terror. Looking down at him, she wrote SLUT above her tits. “More what you were after? An insatiable slut who never says no to whatever you ask of her and lives only to pleasure you? Oh no, that’s still not quite it either, is it.” 

His eyes had gone wide, and he clawed desperately at the sheets, petrified as she dragged her digits through her dripping well of personal ink once more.

“You just want a C... U... N... T!” Each letter jabbed at his brain as she painted them across her perfect, pale belly, the honey of affection in her tone replaced by venom he had never encountered. “Meat to use. You never wanted me. You just wanted a passive fuckdoll. Those are all fun games to play, but you weren’t playing, were you? When I enjoy my body on my own terms, you think I’m disgusting. 

“But you don’t always hate it when I bleed, do you, Jordan? You had no problem with me bleeding from my chest!”

Jennifer jabbed her thumb at the love heart, unmoved face more awful than if her eyes had flashed with rage. He dived for the dresser while the doll laughed at him, swiping her fingers to leave dual streaks of warpaint across both her cheeks as he searched in vain for the knife.

“You really should pay more attention to the women in your life.”

Panic made him stumble and trip in his attempt to simultaneously face her and retreat from the room.

“Or to women in general.” The doll drew closer to where he had fallen.

“Or indeed anything other than your pathetic self. Were you looking for this?” She held up the blade, examining it in the light. “Is this dent where it caught on my ribcage?”

He launched himself through the door, terrified and angry, and headed for the kitchen. His fingertips grazed the handle of a second knife in the block when she grabbed his shoulder, and as she spun him around, he slashed at her. The blade sliced into her breast and stuck, and she released him in surprise. Unable to wrench the weapon free, he snatched up another and stabbed at her torso. He punctured her three times before she seized his wrist.

“You can’t kill me, Jordan. Not again.” Hatred emanated from her as she held him by the throat an inch above the ground and then flung him out of the kitchen with inhuman force. Something slick covered the floor, so he slid several metres and had some difficulty finding his feet. A drop of the substance flicked into his mouth as he struggled. It tasted of strawberries.

How the fuck did the floor get covered in lube?

Heading for the front door, he slipped, and she cut him off, so he doubled back, finding himself cornered against the door to the basement. He fumbled for the handle, also slimy, but got it open and stumbled through, then went to slam it. A foot jammed the gap just before it could latch, and the door burst back open, sending him crashing down the stairs.

As he shook the daze of the fall from his head, he heard the door shut and lock. Jennifer descended slowly. He tried to get up, but pain shot through his right leg and he collapsed. All he could do was pull himself along the floor and listen to the slow click of her shoes approaching. He screamed when she dug her pointed heel into his injured leg, knowing he had no escape. She dragged him up by the neck as if he was the doll and turned him to face her, continuing to advance until the backs of his legs hit the chest freezer against the back wall.

“Please,” he whimpered, tears rolling down his cheeks as her thumb caressed his windpipe, “please, I’ll do anything!”

“Your manbaby tears of self-pity are worth less than a crocodile’s.” The point of the knife tickled his Adam’s apple. “Apologise for killing me.”

“Sorry?” he said, tentatively.

“Not to this face. To my real face.”

“I don’t know where—”

“Don’t lie! I know where my own body is! Open the freezer.”

“It’s locked. My keys are in my pants up—”

“It’s not locked anymore.” 

She was right. The padlock hung open. Fuck. With shaking hands, he lifted the lid to expose the collection of plastic bags inside. The memory of filling them made his stomach churn.

“How do you justify it, Jordan? Do you tell yourself I was asking for it?”

Words failed him, his tongue locked in a vice.

“Find my head.”

There was no need to search. He knew which bag. Sick with fear, he undid the knot to unveil the frosted face that the doll reminded him of.

“Sorry,” he said to it.

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry I...” He swallowed. The hold on his neck was iron-strong. No choice except to admit it. “Sorry I murdered you, Jennifer.”

“Thank you. Now kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me to prove you mean it.”

Her grip did not ease. She didn’t mean the doll. Repulsed and trembling, he raised the head to his lips.

The moment they touched the frozen skin, his world went black.

(•_•)

Jennifer put down the shovel and stretched her new body. It was not perfect by any means. It smelled funny. It couldn’t have multiple orgasms. And it would take her a while not to hate the face she saw in the mirror. But at least she knew she was pretty on the inside, and it was better than the alternatives of being dead, discorporate, or an animated sex doll with no nerve endings. She would live through this.

There were some advantages over her original body, the pieces of which she now began to place reverently in the hole she had dug. She felt safer walking down the street. She didn’t feel any pressure to shave, even her face. And best of all, the prostate almost made up for the lack of a clitoris. That prick had been wasted on this body, but she had rectified that and earned the unofficial title of “Office Manwhore” in the space of a month.

Everything else carefully positioned, she picked up the final item destined for this unmarked grave. The doll head. The rest of her doll parts she had arranged to have thoroughly destroyed at an industrial waste disposal site, but she kept the head with its striking resemblance to her old face.

Except for the eyes.

The lifeless eyes she looked into now were ice blue, like those of her new face. She tried to think of something pithy to say, but nothing came to mind, so with a shrug, she tossed it by the hair on top of the plastic-wrapped packages.

With every shovelful of dirt she heaped back into the hole, Jordan’s screams for mercy became more muffled until, finally, he fell forever silent.