The latest human sex dolls are getting very realistic. The company I own shares in printed photos of their new “Supersnatch” model in their annual report. In a recent TV documentary, a client confessed that he’d fallen in love with one of these dolls. Admittedly, he was a 78-year-old man with custom-built model based on his 22-year-old ex-girlfriend. The doll’s physical likeness to the girl was extraordinary. Her personality and conversational skills were pretty close as well, apparently.
The future of the sex doll industry depends on further improvements to the “internal cavity”, as those in the trade call it. Although it currently delivers a decent squelching sensation, clients who have unprotected sex are vulnerable to the “dick-rash and douche” syndrome. No man in a relationship with a sex doll wants to use a condom – he may as well pay a woman for that. The plan on the drawing board is for a new organic cavity harbouring jism-eating bacteria. There are few problems beyond the reach of modern science.
An industry insider once asked me whether there’d be a market for gorilla sex dolls. I told him they’d never catch on because you can’t afford dead weight in the wild. A female gorilla must do more than provide a sexual orifice – she’s got to pull her weight in the foraging, gathering and baboon-chasing departments as well. No one gets to be a passenger just because they’ve got a super-elastic cha-cha that stays permanently moist in the dry season. To be part of a gorilla band you’ve got to be a team player, keeping your eyes and ears open for any dangerous critters that might sneak up on your comrades. An alpha male always prefers to have feisty apettes in his harem, even if it means they’ll occasionally mob him and use him as a pouf. Being sat on by females is a lot better than sitting on a snake.
The march of technology being what it is, the sex doll may one day be replaced by the sex android. This concept was explored in The Stepford Wives, a movie in which the menfolk of a town replace their flesh-and-blood spouses with battery-powered replicas. The androids adore cleaning and cooking; they speak in dulcet tones; they croon with delight when their husbands mount them. Yet such automatons would never fool a gorilla. Lacking a primate soul, the absence of rhythm in their booties would be obvious during our jungle festivities. For all their doting subservience, the matrimonial robots never dared accompany their husbands to the discotheque or ballroom for fear of making complete asses of themselves.
Constrained by its programming, the android spouse is incapable of the innovation and spontaneity required to keep the spark in a marriage alive. One doesn’t want a mate who’s totally unpredictable, of course. As any gorilla with a harem knows, too many surprises from the females lead to stress and irregular bowel movements. But a complete absence of conjugal tension causes you to become a fat, complacent slug. The ideal mate is one who keeps you on your toes without going completely loco and putting insects up your nose when you’re asleep. A proper balance between yin and yang is the secret of a contented life.
The future of the sex doll industry depends on further improvements to the “internal cavity”, as those in the trade call it. Although it currently delivers a decent squelching sensation, clients who have unprotected sex are vulnerable to the “dick-rash and douche” syndrome. No man in a relationship with a sex doll wants to use a condom – he may as well pay a woman for that. The plan on the drawing board is for a new organic cavity harbouring jism-eating bacteria. There are few problems beyond the reach of modern science.
An industry insider once asked me whether there’d be a market for gorilla sex dolls. I told him they’d never catch on because you can’t afford dead weight in the wild. A female gorilla must do more than provide a sexual orifice – she’s got to pull her weight in the foraging, gathering and baboon-chasing departments as well. No one gets to be a passenger just because they’ve got a super-elastic cha-cha that stays permanently moist in the dry season. To be part of a gorilla band you’ve got to be a team player, keeping your eyes and ears open for any dangerous critters that might sneak up on your comrades. An alpha male always prefers to have feisty apettes in his harem, even if it means they’ll occasionally mob him and use him as a pouf. Being sat on by females is a lot better than sitting on a snake.
The march of technology being what it is, the sex doll may one day be replaced by the sex android. This concept was explored in The Stepford Wives, a movie in which the menfolk of a town replace their flesh-and-blood spouses with battery-powered replicas. The androids adore cleaning and cooking; they speak in dulcet tones; they croon with delight when their husbands mount them. Yet such automatons would never fool a gorilla. Lacking a primate soul, the absence of rhythm in their booties would be obvious during our jungle festivities. For all their doting subservience, the matrimonial robots never dared accompany their husbands to the discotheque or ballroom for fear of making complete asses of themselves.
Constrained by its programming, the android spouse is incapable of the innovation and spontaneity required to keep the spark in a marriage alive. One doesn’t want a mate who’s totally unpredictable, of course. As any gorilla with a harem knows, too many surprises from the females lead to stress and irregular bowel movements. But a complete absence of conjugal tension causes you to become a fat, complacent slug. The ideal mate is one who keeps you on your toes without going completely loco and putting insects up your nose when you’re asleep. A proper balance between yin and yang is the secret of a contented life.
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