Not Andersen Prunty

A very lonely man orders an imitation vagina from a catalogue. He sits down on the couch and waits for it. A couple hours later, he hears a sound from the porch. Opening his front door, he sees someone has left a large box for him—it’s roughly as large as he is. He drags the box inside and hastily tears it open. Instead of his fake vagina, he finds a woman curled up in the box, sleeping. At first he thinks maybe it’s just some kind of lifelike sex doll but he can see it breathing. Bending down, he shakes her shoulder.

“Uh, Miss?” he says.

Startled, she rolls over and looks at him. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she says.

She is dressed enticingly in a very short skirt and clinging t-shirt.

“Well, I guess you know why I’m here,” she says.

“Actually, I’m a little confused. I think maybe they screwed up my order.”

He checks the box for an invoice but doesn’t see one. His address isn’t even on the box. Curious, he thinks.

“I guess you can spend your time thinking about it or we can go upstairs and you can put me to use.”

“I would definitely like that,” the man says. He can’t believe his good fortune. He wonders if the girl is planning on staying, if she really is his.

They go upstairs and, after a few moments, the man gasps in frustrated confusion. He kneels between the girl’s legs, staring down at the complete absence of sex. Like a doll, she is entirely hairless and smooth. He looks up at the girl to meet her embarrassed stare.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “It was there a few days ago, I promise.”

“Unlikely,” the man says.

“There are other things I can do,” she says.

“It’s not the same,” the man dresses and retreats downstairs, pouting.

The girl comes downstairs moments later, fully dressed. “I guess I should go, huh?”

The man, angry, wants to tell her to get out but, after thinking about it, realizes he is very lonely and, indeed, there are other things the girl can do. Things that would have to be better than using an imitation vagina. “Why don’t you stick around,” he says.

So the girl sticks around for a few days and they perform every sexual act possible. The man is happy and exhausted but, alas, he has to go back to work.

Coming home from work one day, he discovers the mailman delivering the mail. One of the parcels he crams in the mailbox is the vagina. It is without an envelope and looks slightly used. The mailman, unable to meet the man’s gaze, looks at the ground and quickly walks to the next house. The man takes the vagina into the house and gives it a thorough washing. Then he puts it in a box and wraps it. That night, with the girl waiting in bed, waiting for their marathon non-vaginal sex to begin, the man presents her with his present.

“For me?” she asks.

“Of course,” the man says, eager to see her look of surprise when she opens the box.

Once opened, a look of horror crosses the girl’s face.

“I guess you want me to put this on,” she says.

“Then you’ll be complete.”

The girl crosses to the bathroom and comes out with the vagina attached. It is slightly ill-fitting but the man doesn’t really mind.

After that night’s sex, the man rolls off the girl and lights a cigarette. “Fantastic,” he says.

The girl pretends to fall asleep.

The next morning the man wakes up and discovers that he is alone with the vagina. He looks all around the house but he can’t find the girl. He even calls the catalogue company and asks about her but they treat him like he’s nuts. He looks at the vagina and finds it sad and lonely. He places it on the front porch, hoping the girl will return to claim it.