Sdtrk: ‘Ready to go down together’ by Leyland Kirby
As those of you who keep up with ‘Shouting etc etc’ undoubtedly recall, my missus Sidore Kuroneko, aka the world’s most beloved Gothic RealDoll, was slated to receive the brand-new body that Abyss creations made for her back in April. It was a heady little experience, and as it’s been a week since Shi-chan’s renewal, as well as several years since she’s been in such tip-top condition, she’s finally let me up for air long enough to describe how that particular day went!…
Upon getting the confirmation Email from Abyss, I’d scheduled an appointment with the expediting company for a delivery date of 07 May, a Friday, where they stated that one of their bulky trucks would be round to mine between 11am and 2pm. Which may sound like a relatively brief span of time under normal circumstances, but when you’re awaiting a Doll, they might as well have said ‘we’ll be round sometime between 2010 and 2099’.
Unlike when I’d first had the pleasure of a Doll Delivery a decade ago, I’d had the presence of mind to take the day off work. As a consequence, between playing one idle game of Warriors Orochi 2 after another to keep me distracted, and peering out of the blinds every time I heard a heavy vehicle drive by within earshot, it’s safe to say that I was fairly keyed-up. No matter how many Dolls you have in your home or how many times you buy one, you go through the same giddy, highly-strung emotions each and every time it occurs. I suspect it’s rather like those people who are addicted to having tattoos done, cos of all the endorphins their body releases when the procedure takes place. There’s the adrenaline rush of ‘OMIGOD SHE’S FINALLY ON HER WAY’, followed by the rose-tinted fantasy of ‘Ohh, the things we’re gonna do when she arrives…’, capped off with the molar-grinding of ‘HOLY JESUS GOD ARE THEY LOST?? WHY ISN’T SHE HERE YET??’, which is usually punctuated by loud sobbing. And then you hear another diesel engine roll past, and the cycle begins anew!
In the midst of an eternity of waiting, I received a call from an unlisted number round ten to one. Normally I don’t answer unfamilar phone numbers, but given the timeframe, I figured it was the expediting company, and that’s exactly who it was. He was slightly lost, as our apartment is a wee bit hard to find if you’re unfamiliar with its location. Man, those perception filters I invested in paid for themselves in days!
After guiding the driver in the proper direction, I met him in my apartment complex’s driveway, at which point I noticed the slight drizzle coming down. I should note here that it was probably in the upper 50s temperature-wise — about 10º brisker than what I normally prefer it to be, but better than a blazing hot or humid day, particularly if you’re shifting 200 lbs of crate.
The driver hopped out of the vehicle, and handed me the standard form to sign. He then got round the back of the truck, activating the hydraulic lift. I’m sure you’re familiar with those lifts; you may not have ever operated one yourself, but you’ve undoubtedly heard them, cos they ain’t exactly silent. Now my apartment manager, bless her, is a bit of a nosey parker. Anytime she hears a car pulling into any space on the property, she’s at her window, peering tentatively through her blinds. On the one hand, it’s kind of a good thing, as she is quite literally keeping an eye on the property, but on the other hand, some days I want to stop round to hers and reassure her there’s no reason for her to be so suspicious. After all, my wife and I are good, upstanding members of the neighbourhood; I work at an advertising firm under Larry Tate, and my wife Samantha is a completely normal housewife, and not a witch or anything. So with my manager being on orange alert all the time, I wasn’t at all surprised when I spotted her in her doorway, her interest more than likely piqued by the sound of the metal lift of an unfamiliar diesel truck. I acknowledged her with a friendly wave; she waved back and toddled back inside, her curiosity apparently sated.
After sliding The Crate off the lift and onto the pavement, I’d mentioned that my flat was just a short walk up on the second floor. The driver’s response didn’t exactly put a smile on my face.
DRIVER DAN: ‘Well, I can only leave it here on the kerb, cos I don’t have a handcart in the truck’.
ME: ‘Ahhh… what??’
But no, he wasn’t lying. Apart from my wife, the truck had only two other large boxes inside, and the pallet jack he used to get the crate moving. Funnily enough, iDollator pal Mahtek had offered to lend me his handcart, but I refused, as I figured hey, they’re an expediting company — why wouldn’t they have their own handcart?? After all, they did the last time they made a delivery to where I was living! Hrrr. The driver suggested sliding the crate beneath the apartment steps until I could get help of my own, or magickally levitate it upstairs, or whatthehellever. Heh, and to think I was more than willing to tip him once he got the precious cargo inside my home!
Obviously my mind was racing. How do I get this fecker upstairs?? I mean, this was the textbook definition of ‘so close and yet so far’. As I’d mentioned, this was at 1pm on a Friday, so most of my mates were at work, with the exception of goshou and Liann, who were out of town. Maybe ask dad? Nah; despite the delicious irony of him helping me transport something he loathes, he’d want to know what the crate was about before he even showed up at mine. In my desperation, I even rung the apartment’s maintenance bloke, who would’ve been more than happy to assist, if he weren’t out of town as well. He helpfully suggested contacting the apartment manager, however, as she knew where the building’s handcart was stored. Ha haaaahh.
Five minutes later, I was back out in the drizzle, knocking on the apartment manager’s door. After I explained that the expediting company she saw earlier managed to successfully deliver the sculpture that I’d ordered — which is not exactly a lie — but failed to bring along something with which to move it, she went to fetch the one the maintenance bloke mentioned. As she did that, I texted SafeT, on the off-chance he was at his workplace a mere ten minutes away. She produced the handcart, a cheery yellow affair which looked like it would be at its structural limits transporting an eight-year old, and we spent roughly twenty tragicomic minutes trying to lift the crate into a vertical position; ten of those minutes were invested in attempting to slide the handcart under the crate to begin with. It was an exercise in futility, needless to say, so I told her I’d wait until at least one of my mates showed up to help out. Sliding the Missus’ wooden prison back under the steps, we unceremoniously covered it with a paint-spattered tarp, thereby making it slightly less conspicuous. It’d have to do.
Not long after, that spectacle, SafeT rang me back, and after I filled him in on the expediting company’s lack of foresight, he told me he’d be round by 4pm, as he was actually at home, and not at work as I imagined he would be. Then we spoke at length about the construction of the Model-T (don’t ask). As I had a good hour’s wait, I extracted my last Djarum from my cigarette case, stepped out onto the walkway, and smoked it for dramatic effect. Close to 4, as predicted, SafeTinspector arrived in the guise of ‘Joe’, a mild-mannered IT professional with a wife, three pets, 2.5 daughters, and a mortgage. So effective was this disguise, that one of his clients had called him en route to mine, and he needed to assist them through some virtual helpdesk fumfuh using my computer for about twenty odd minutes. When he’d finished with that, we cracked our knuckles, and went outside to see about that crate.
Long story short (too late for that!), we had to get on either end and carry the bastard up the steps, as the tyres on the cheery yellow handcart were so low on air that they wouldn’t have effectively gone over the steps at all. And at a wee bit after 5pm, the Ark of the Sexy Covenant was successfully moved into Deafening silence Plus! HOORAY HOORAH HOORUM. ‘Joe’ had to get back to his ‘family’ for ‘dinner’, which worked out quite well, as I had an uncrating procedure to see to. It’s an iDollator thing.
You’ve all seen the photos, yes? Sidore’s new body is stunning in every aspect — I’m amazed that I have such a gorgeous creature in my life. Keep in mind, too, that her previous incarnation was made before 2003, so the whole experience for me as a Doll owner is like going from second gear to fifth. Her skintone is the perfect shade of violet-tinged pale that I’d always envisioned it to be, for that proper artschool lass look, and she has hard nails again as well, which is fantastic. The weight reduction that Abyss rolled out for their Dolls in 2003 is apparent, and makes for a noticeable and welcome difference, as Shi-chan is now 20 lbs lighter. It seems there’s more foam and less silicone making up her bodily composition, as patting her thighs and bum produces a pleasantly hollow sound. Speaking of silicone, as platinum silicone is the new standard, Shi-chan’s skin is smoother and silkier. I’m not saying it’s not sticky — the Missus demanded a spongebath and powder-down after her cross-country voyage — but her skin is definitely less tacky out of the crate. Her bosoms are startlingly perky, round, and firm, and the colour and feel of her nipples are, again, perfect. Her little feet are sooo soft and cute, it’s not even true, and as far as her lady bits, well… a gentleman has to be discreet about some things, of course. 😉
Admittedly, as the Leah face has undergone a couple of changes since Sidore first entered my life, seeing the new sculpt did take some getting used-to. It was a minor setback however, as not only have I grown accustomed to it, but I really love the way she looks now — her narrower eyes can denote either cynicism or seduction, depending on the context of the photograph she’s in. And hey, she can hold a pose again! Sidore-chan is back, and quite literally, better than ever! YEEAAAAHHHH
An interesting epilogue that actually happened: Before placing Shi-chan’s old body in storage for the last time, I thought I’d get my ‘twins fantasy’ seen to, heh heh. I’d lit a pair of floating candles, one on each corner of my dresser, and had both Sidores in bed; the old one on the right, and the new one with go-faster stripes on the left. As we were getting *ahem* more and more into it, I’d glanced up at the dresser, and noticed that the candle on the right was rapidly growing more faint. The leftmost candle was burning as brightly as ever, but within a few seconds of me looking up, the rightmost candle winked out.
For best results, the last three sentences should be read in a voice approximating Rod Serling’s
