Coin Operated Boy

A story of male objectification
Art by:

Amanda Palmer's Coin Operated Boy

The inspiration and the sound track for this story.

Draft 3 – 28 min. read

“God damn it.”

She hadn’t even made it to morning coffee before the day shaped up to be an utter disappointment. Alice’s self-induced morning orgasm had done the exact opposite of what she had intended. It left the bitter aftertaste of frustration. Strictly physical pleasure made it obvious that what she really needed was to see lust emanating from the mirror of another’s eyes.   Cumming evaporated all the pleasurable desire then left behind a festering heap of aching need.

Glancing at her phone, she caught sight of a gently glowing notification from Robert, some guy she met at her local watering hole and fucked.


‘What an ordinary thing to say’, she sighed inwardly.  Robert’s attempt at a bold seduction was, in her mind, about as exciting as washing dishes. Her distaste thickened. Like so many before him, Robert wore life like an ill-fitting suit.Coffee. She needed coffee, the elixir that healed all. Dressing hastily in a jean skirt and t-shirt conveniently crumpled at the foot of her bed, Alice grabbed a jacket and made haste for the coffee shop.

The rich fragrance of ground beans filling the air intensified the general sense of impatience sticking to her veins like grime. “$4.50 please,” said a cheerful voice from behind dull eyes. Alice instantly disliked the woman beneath the slouchy boho beanie and ash-blonde hair.

She pulled a man’s wallet out of her coat pocket. The thin leather had become heavy with the little coin pouch straining under its contents – a stark counterpoint to the wallet’s minimalist appeal. Alice was eager to get rid of some change.

Clutter in life leads to distraction – that could not pertain.

Biting down on her phone to free both hands, she poured all the little metal discs out of the wallet. Gently undulating her palm, she picked out the desired coins. The plain-faced young woman waited with a vacant stare, at a loss as to why anyone still used cash and quietly disapproving of a phone in someone’s mouth.

The small pleasure of ordinary triumph peaked when Alice saw a toonie rise to the surface, giving no hint of the secret concealed beneath. Holding the toonie between thumb and forefinger, she stared transfixed at her cupped hand. A golden coin depicting two cats had risen to the top of the coin pile. Unbidden visions of flushed and damp flesh, fingers tangled into hair, eyes drunk on need, flashed into Alice’s mind. Alice found herself gently panting and feverish, rooted to the spot as she stared at the alluring disc in her palm.

An impatient shuffle across the counter broke the petrification spell. Alice handed over the money, stuffed her wallet back into the jacket, and grabbed the coffee with her one free hand. The other still cradled a puddle of coins as she looked for an open spot to settle.

“Thanks so much. Enjoy your day.” The girl’s voice stayed obligatorily warm, eyes remaining lifeless.  

Alice imagined the bored face saying other things with that same delightful chirp: climate change activists are unpatriotic racists; you can’t hold hands with God when you’re masturbating; you gobshite weasel-headed cock splat. The last one pushed a muffled chuckle passed her lips. “Oh, the Scots,” she thought. Never had the English language reached such magnificent heights of vulgarity, as when a Scottishman wrote political rants online.

She spied her perch and moved to it quickly; the old pew creaked under the weight of each new person who settled on it. It was the familiar sound of sacred space: a Church in her religious childhood, a coffee shop in her secular present. Alice spat her phone onto the rickety second-hand table, set the cortado down, and pulled a few strands of curly, copper hair off her lips.

Digging out the mysterious cat stamped coin, she stared at it for a long while. ‘What weird currency is this? What journey did it travel?’ Balancing the coin on fingertips, she slowly rotated the surface, scanning the air for maximum light reflection. A patina of red surprised Alice as she studied it. The curved ridges outlining the two cats beamed a bright light into her eyes.

A new light entered the periphery of her vision; the phone had come to life:

She turned her attention back to the coin. ‘That’d be nice,’ her mind sighed. The coin was warming to the touch. Flipping it revealed a robed woman, with long hair morphing into feathers. A giant boar stood at her feet, and a mountain range sprawled behind her. There was no text.

The phone lit up again:

The notification didn’t display an application icon. “What’s that from?” Curiosity compelled Alice to lift the device to her face and unlock the screen.

To Alice’s surprise the phone jerked lightly and a thin tray with a coin slot extended soundlessly from the bottom.

Alice shook her head slowly, staring at her phone. This was most notably not a feature her device possessed. Alice peered at the slot from which the coin tray had emerged. She tried to push the tray back in, to no avail. She stopped pushing, worried that she might break something. The tray was made of flimsy plastic and, for the time being, it appeared to be part of her precious phone.

The words glared stubbornly from the screen. ‘What could it hurt?’, Alice mused. She placed the phone on the table’s edge, letting the tray hang over the floor. She set one palm beneath the tray, preparing to catch the strange coin still in her hand, then dropped it through.

Nothing struck her palm. The coin vanished.

A rainbow wheel spun on the screen, releasing a carousel of nostalgia at the sight of it. The tray retracted, disappearing with the slot from which it came.

Thin Helvetica letters instructed:

She tried to refresh the screen, then tried shutting down her phone, then hit various buttons randomly. None of that made the notification disappear. She stared at it a moment, considering her options.  It was the Third Millennium; eventually she would have to touch the screen. So she did.

The world pixelated. Alice had the distinct impression of diluting into the atmosphere and then reducing as everything in sight vaporized, then coalesced. Her pocket gave a light jingle as it settled into reality. Alice was still on the creaking pew, but the coffee shop was gone, replaced by a workshop of sorts.

Heavy wooden floors and substantial beams across brick walls made the air feel dense The room weighed ponderously on her. As best she could guess she was in a large sculptor’s workshop, chisels and hammers cluttered tables. Large stone blocks in various  stages of animation were strewn about; some still giant rectangles covered in rough chips, others clearly taking human form. A few stone phantoms awaited only the fine details from their creator before coming sharply into focus. The heavy and surprisingly cold air filled her nose with rock flour.

A sculptor's Studio
Artist: Rogie Custodio

Suddenly a large, shapely woman clutching a clipboard bustled into the room. She paused ever so briefly and prepared to turn away before her body even cleared the door frame. Just as she was withdrawing, her eye caught a thoroughly bewildered looking Alice sitting on the pew. “Oh, there you are!” came her tired and officious declaration. “My apologies, there’s no telling where people will materialize. My name is Lila. Please follow me.” Thin stiletto heels tapped softly as she took a small step back to clear the way through the door. A graceful arm swept open to invite immediate action. Lila wore an officious but comfortable pantsuit and rimless bifocal glasses. Her light brown hair was pinned hastily back. Somehow, though, this combination of proper attire and air of authority did little to conceal the bawdy aura of Lila’s luscious curves.

“Follow you where?” Alice stood up, but made no motion towards the stranger, suddenly grateful to be wearing a jacket as the frigid air began to settle on her. 

“To the display room so you can pick your model,” her amber eyes met the uncertain grey of Alice’s with authority. Lila was tired, and the room was cold. She fought to suppress a bubbling irritation. “We’ve processed your request as quickly as we could.”

“I didn’t ask anyone for anything. I think you have me mistaken for someone else, ” Alice’s voice wavered and became weak, “Where am I?” 

“Well, not consciously anyway,” Lila murmured to herself, perfectly shaped eyebrows knitted as she checked the clipboard. She didn’t hear Alice’s unsettled question. “Here you are. Alice.” Pronouncing the name with excessive precision, in case the young woman held any doubt. “There’s even a note in the column: Stop her relentless baying.”

“Relentless baying?”

“Yes.” Lila turned the clipboard, so Alice could see the words for herself, scribbled in exceptionally black ink. And there it was. Though only the first name ‘Alice’ appeared, she understood that it was referring specifically to her with perfect clarity. And beside it the words: ‘STOP THE RELENTLESS BAYING’, written in a heavy hand, the letters seeming to throb menacingly from the page.  

“This is a dream,” Alice concluded, trying to slough off the sense of terror quietly building within her. 

“Apparently, even the demons are begging for mercy,” Lila continued, “They jumped you in the queue hoping for some quiet. The squeaky wheel gets the lube, I suppose.” Lila checked a pocket watch as she gave a small shrug. Clearly, what she saw displeased her. She spun her buxom frame abruptly on pin needle heels and stepped through the door, confident Alice would follow into the narrow hallway.

“Where’s my phone?” Alice’s skin began to crawl with anxiety as she wiggled off her jacket, starting the frantic search through pockets, trying not to trip over her own feet as they walked. Even if none of this was real, she still wanted her phone. She found her wallet. The loose change. Keys. Several half used tissues.  A candy wrapper. But no phone!

“You won’t be needing it.”

Alice cocked her head, trying to link the concept of ‘unnecessary’ with her phone’s image into an understandable reality. It wasn’t working. Lila glanced back and saw the resigned distress on her face. A pang of guilt softened Lila’s mood. “I’m sorry. I’m not at my best today.” She slowed down until keeping pace with her skittish companion. “Freyja normally handles this, but she’s off looking for her husband. I run a similar operation in another dimension and thought I’d help out. It seems I’ve over-committed myself! Hmmm, let me try to explain this as simply as I can. Your phone acted as the plane upon which the singularity occurred in the plausibility continuum. I’m afraid it can’t exist as the place and in the place at once. While bizarre, quantum laws are peculiarly precise.” Absolutely none of that made sense to Alice. She hoped the bored girl at the till would notice the abandoned phone and keep it safe –  if it still existed.

Iphone Addiction
Fond on

They walked into a narrow hallway so stupendously ordinary it felt like a satire. The low, drop polystyrene ceiling was faintly yellowed with time and a banal, grey carpet stretched on for ages. A single door was visible far off in the distance. The stale, sanitary smell of cheap carpet, dust, and spent ink cartridges was so precise and thick it could have been manufactured, like bottles of “New Car Scent” air freshener. Precise and yet lacking somehow. Would someone really make “Tedious Office Space” scent? Alice wanted to touch the walls and see if they were cardboard and styrofoam fashioned into a convincing set, but she didn’t have the chance. The distant door seemed to rush towards them with only a few muffed steps along the tired floor. Alice’s vision stalled and jittered watching Lila turn the doorknob, connectivity between mind and current reality falling out of synchronicity. As everything fell in step again, they passed the door and entered a vast room. The shifting scale of space was enough to give Alice momentary vertigo. A series of deep, tall alcoves filled the whole room, from wall to wall, under a vast domed ceiling soaring overhead. 

“I wish I could tell you there was any sense of order to this, but I’m not familiar with this part of the operation. So let’s just browse, shall we?” Lila’s voice echoed slightly though the vault, her tone warming. She turned down a narrow aisle between shelves, always eager for a chance to look over the merchandise. Her life was so immersed in other people’s sexual happiness that she had to find her pleasures in the small things, wherever possible.

The alcoves were filled with nude men. They stood side by side with perfect posture, organized like mannequins.  Each seemed to be in a state of tranquil sleep, their hands hanging loosely at the sides. There were tall men and short men; men with big bellies and some with huge strong arms. Filipino men, Nigerian men, Scandinavian men, and men of mixed ethnicities with no distinguishable origin. There were men with huge elephant cocks, slender uncircumcised dicks, and itty-bitty goods. There were men of every age, some august, others ravaged. Some had full sensual lips, others weak jawlines. There were men as pretty as rose petals and men ordinary enough to be invisible. Alice’s eyes scanned them carefully with a sense of unease growing in the pit of her stomach. “What are they? Are they real?”

They’re golems,” Lila answered cheerfully, reaching out to pet a particularly fine penis as she passed.

“Like… my precioussssss?” Alice’s poor imitation of the serpentine voice was painful.

“No,” Lila sighed deeply, “Not like the Lord of the Rings.” Every time. She hated that joke. “Golems are usually made out of clay though our craftsmen prefer stone – more durable. With some magic and a lot of goodwill from the gods, they turn into what you see here. Quite indistinguishable from actual humans.”

Alice’s feet were glued in place as she carefully examined a specimen, uncertainty holding her prisoner. He was a stringy man with a tango dancer’s hair and sunken cheeks just starting to show stubble. His skin looked like it should be warm to the touch with all the infinite minute imperfections of true life. “Can I touch one?” Alice’s eyes moved to the strong, juicy cappuccino man next to him; this one had a pleasant, bearded face.

“Of course! Impossible to pick the right one without a close inspection. Don’t forget to examine the cock; make sure you like the feel of it in your hand and mouth.”

Male Sex Object
Photographed by Corbis

Alice tentatively ran fingertips over a forearm, but her eyes examined his manhood. “They feel so real.”

“Yes, the Hrimthur do good work. You’ll find all our golems make top shelf lovers.” The narrow aisle seemed to stretch on forever, and Alice had no idea how many aisles there were. Lila was lightly prodding her further down the row of men. “They’re fully equipped for cunnilingus, have a deft touch and are long-lasting. It’s only recently that our models have been equipped with a voice to make them more interactive and there have been huge strides in A.I. The A.I. isn’t perfect mind you, but we’re quite pleased with how far we’ve come and run regular updates.” Lila paused in front of a short, well-built man.

“While you’re at it you might want to update your mobile app. I can’t remember the last time I saw the rainbow wheel,” Alice suggested with a slight grin.

“We like the rainbow. It feels inclusive.” Lila paused to enjoy the view of a particularly alluring specimen, reflecting on how nice it would be to have had an orgasm right now. Work always seemed to get in the way. “I really like this one. Forthright, a little silly; you can see it in his mouth.” A smooth muscular chest, an attractive circumcised cock, almond eyes, and lips hinting at a smile even in full repose.

“I get it,” Alice looked him up and down, starting to get into this unabashed objectification. “But not my style.”

“Alright, let’s keep looking. I’ll explain more as we walk. The gods have heard your pleas for a lover . . . your ‘relentless baying,’ ” Lila smiled teasingly at the blushing Alice. “And since you keep breaking all the real boys, we decided you qualified for a golem. You can keep him until you get bored and are ready to play with a real one.” Alice paused in front of a magnificent specimen of manhood. Over six feet tall, in his 30s, with a full head of shining black hair. She traced the lines of his finely chiseled muscles and square jaw. The face held a quiet conviction. She noted he was well hung and took him into her hand – soft and smooth. It felt good. She considered as Lila continued:

“They’re no work at all to maintain, and it’s almost unheard of that one should need repairs. They cum too, but can’t get you pregnant. If you do choose to wear a condom, just to feel secure, they’ll never complain. Most people take one model, storage space being an issue the way they build condos so small these days.” Lila watched Alice’s lips gently parted with awe. “This one seems to have struck a chord with you.”

“He makes me feel fat,” Alice declared. “He’s too fit. Too pretty. I’d just end up hating myself.” She ran her hand across his stomach in a sad goodbye, reluctantly pulling her eyes away.

“Those types of models don’t get chosen as often as you’d think,” Lila informed. They kept walking.

“So I just get to keep one, I don’t have to pay or anything?” Alice was becoming more critical, making swifter snap judgments as she moved from one to the other. This one had a sweet face, but the head seemed too big for the thin body. That one was attractive but ultimately uninteresting.

“It’s worth it just to get you to stop playing You Oughta Know,” Lila rolled her eyes and smiled “The universe has had enough Alanis Morsette.”

Alice cast a sheepish glance at Lila after hearing her prognosis. “Is it that bad?” Lila lifted a single eyebrow in response. Embarrassed, Alice diverted her attention back to the shelves. Swiveling eyes darted right and left, noting a plump and swarthy man with fine, curly hairs on his shoulders. As they kept walking, she hoped some instinct would lead her to a choice.

“How do you choose one just based on looks?”

“It’s easy to love someone to pieces before you know anything about them. I once knew a woman who fell for an arm. You’ll know. To answer your question, you don’t pay upfront for the model, but there are in-app subscription fees.” Alice didn’t quite hear what Lila said because she had found him.

He was in his 50s, just a few inches taller than she was, with a light olive tone to his skin. He possessed a firm body, but one that looked like it still enjoyed a bottle of wine and a sumptuous meal. Salt and pepper hair, heavy on the salt. An effortlessly handsome face and deep smile lines. He seemed distinguished. “This one has great detail on the back,” Lila offered. The dais he stood on rotated, revealing a spectacular series of lovely freckles scattered across a muscular back like a constellation of stars. Alice noted the fine ass. The platform spun him back to face the ladies. She couldn’t stop staring.

“Oh geez. Petrification spell relapse?” Lila snapped her fingers by Alice’s ear. “I keep telling them it has side-effects. Are you seeing the image reel?”

Alice broke out of her reverie and gave a sheepish laugh, “No, I’m alright.”

“We have a winner then,” Lila thought.

Alice approached him, skin flushing as she ran her hands along the strong arms and then delicately traced fingertips along his cock. She wanted to taste it. “This one,” her eyes became distant, thoughtful. “How do I get him to do something?”

“Well, first, you have to insert a coin.” 

Alice fumbled with her jacket until she got to the pocket and withdrew a bunch of coins. Every one of them was a red-tinged gold with two cats. Lila stepped in close, reaching for the golem’s jaw and gently opening it. “There’s a slot underneath the tongue just behind his teeth.”

Alice hesitated, but Lila’s bright face propelled her forward. It felt obscene to reach into a sleeping man’s mouth, even if he wasn’t really a man or really asleep. It was warm and wet. She found the stoney edges of the slot and slipped the coin inside.

“Now you have to turn him on,” Lila patiently instructed.

“How do I do that?”

“Well, I personally like to go for the meat, give it a good sucking, work his balls gently with my hands a little. But if you’re more into subtlety, I suppose a sexy kiss would do.”

Alice drew closer, haltingly edging her face forward until reaching his mouth. Lila watched with a smile; the shy ones warmed her heart. 

Sweet Kiss
Artist Unknown.

The golem’s mouth was soft, inviting. Alice explored bashfully, then braved a lick along the bottom lip. His eyes fluttered open. They were gentle, intelligent, and looked straight into hers. A gaze touched with a solemn softness.

“Hello Angel,” the words were spoken with warm familiarity. His hand lifted, and fingers grazed her cheekbone with tender lightness.

“Oh wow,” Alice whispered in a deep exhale. She paused to drink in the gaze, dry throat struggling to swallow. “He’ll do,” her voice cracked. Her broke into a broad smile, the lines of his face lighting him up beautifully. A burst of heat shot straight into Alice’s chest and rushed down to her pussy. Lila’s hand interrupted her reverie, reaching for his ear and firmly pinched the tragus twice . He returned to the same soft, expressionless standing repose as before.

“That shuts him off. You don’t want to waste your currency here. Take him home, give him a thorough run through. You have enough coins for a two-week run during which you can exchange him at any time. We’d appreciate it if you weren’t too flippant about returns. We have to destroy returned models and harvest parts to rebuild new golems. Sanitation reasons, you understand.”

Alice stepped back, suddenly conscious that her horniness might be obvious to Lila, and felt ashamed. “How do I get him home?”

“We deliver. And now for the tricky part: there’s a catch.” Lila was pleased to see Alice’s grey eyes widen with apprehension; she  had captured  her full attention. “There always is when you’re dealing with the gods. I think it’s how they stave off boredom in the face of eternity. The golem only works on Freyja’s currency.” She paused for an exasperated sigh. “And here’s the icing on the cake: only the leprechauns make them, so to get more coins you have to please a leprechaun.”

“Please a leprechaun?” Alice sounded downcast and defeated. A child who just realized they couldn’t afford their favourite-ever toy. “How do I do that?”

“Nothing sexual. At least I don’t think so. They’re fond of quests I understand.” Lila shook her head; all this unnecessary drama left her bewildered. “Once you’re past the trial period a representative will be in touch with you. Until then he’s all yours to enjoy. Pressing his ear once will put him in ‘night mode’ for those times you just want to cuddle overnight, it uses up much less currency while still providing a cozy bedtime partner, or a snuggle buddy when watching a movie.” Lila leafed through pages on her clipboard while talking. They were nearly done and she wanted to wind up, feeling the pressing need to check on things at the House. She hoped Freya hadn’t thought to visit her establishment in search of her husband just yet. Settling on a sheet, Lila handed the clipboard Alice. “Just press your thumb anywhere on the page to accept, and we’ll have him delivered instantly.” Alice looked up at the golem again, the intense urge to feel his body instantly obliterating any interest in reading the terms of the contract. She pressed her thumb to the page and the familiar feeling of diluting passed through her body.

Once fully condensed out of the air, Alice found herself in the coffee shop, her finger resting on the ID pad of her phone. The cortado waited, untouched and still hot. The bored girl was steeping tea as a customer waited. 

“Did I just have a seizure?”

Alice reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of sunset-gold coins, emblazoned with cats and feather-haired women. Her body still vibrated with the promise of pleasure.

Would he be there, waiting in her flat? She abandoned the table and full cup of coffee, racing the few blocks home. Hesitation took hold just outside the door. Would this strange, inanimate man be standing there against a wall, naked? Might the sight frighten her? No. The tightness in her chest was hope. She was only afraid of finding the apartment empty.

Tentatively, she opened the door, craning her neck to check the entrance hall. It was void of nude, comatose men. So was the living room and kitchen – all was as she left it. The bedroom waited to be checked. Alice nervously entered the last room; covers crumpled by a morning of unsatisfying pleasure seeking were empty. She turned her head towards the dresser, jumping with alarm as soon as he came into sight. The body stood stock still, just as he had on the shelf, though he was clothed this time. Dark blue jeans concealed his firm legs and a rusty orange shirt was casually tucked in at the front. He wore only black socks on his feet.

“No shoes? Weird.”

Alice’s heart raced. She pinched his ear once, then twice. Nothing happened. Sitting on the edge of the messy bed, she studied him a long while.  The golem was exactly the same as it had been in the  …  dream? His stillness was unsettling. It was time to turn him on. Burning with curiosity, she half skipped toward him, grazing lips against lips, more confident in the privacy of her room. She bit and pulled at them gently, feeling strangely empowered by the lascivious quiver in her spine.


Passionate Kissing 
Artist Unknown.


The mouth responded, lips breaking free of her teeth,  returning to caress her lips gently. His closed eyes fluttered with life; his hands too. One took her by the hip, pulled her body against his. The other gently held her neck. The kiss was awkward at first, too much tongue and lips out of rhythm, but he began to adjust quickly, matching the rhythmic dance of her mouth. Just as she could sense the crescendo of perfect harmony approaching, he broke away.

“Welcome home, beautiful,” he smiled that brilliant smile.

“H-hi,” she panted timidly. Her mind drew a blank. It was an unfamiliar feeling, Alice was often the aggressor; insecurity began to trickle in. 

The stranger responded by softening into a gentle glow of reassuring warmth.  “What do you need?” His question was sincere. Simple and direct. She didn’t know what to make of it – no one had ever asked before. It was clear what he needed,  she could feel it pressed firmly against her abdomen. The calm virility sent a magnetic crackle of heat through her womb. She leaned into him.

“To feel,” Alice confessed, pleading and ashamed, unable to meet his eyes. She was surprised by the words that tumbled out, but instantly knew they were true.

His hands moved to her hair, soft fingertips releasing a wake of prickles across the scalp, then firmly grabbed two fistfuls at the back of her skull. He forced Alice to meet his eyes, to be vulnerable. Her heartbeats drummed inside her head so loud it throbbed. She placed hands on his chest, intending to push him away, but found fingers clinging to his shirt instead.

He teased her mouth, with bites and satin grazes, pushing her backward toward the bed, keeping eyes locked. His tender fierceness frightened Alice, and excited her at the same time. He loomed over her body as she shuffled back on the sheets, not entirely sure if she wanted to escape or give him more room, but certain she was falling down some deep well.

A gentle hand caressed her breast through the thin cotton shirt, then fiercely squeezed a hard nipple. She gasped, more from the surprise of wetness suddenly coating her thighs than the pain.

As graceful hands peeled Alice’s clothes from her body and his garments seemed to simply shed off with ease, a realization began to dawn – he was pure sex. Every movement, every look brimmed with erotic energy. But not just a man’s sex: the sex that takes what it wants, fumbling for nerve endings and pleasure spots as though they were keyboard shortcuts. His sex was in harmony with a woman’s unique sensuality. He ran fingernails gently down her side, causing a torrent of goosebumps to rise across all her flesh. He didn’t search for pleasure, he teased it out of any place he chose, playing her body like a harp.   

While Alice was overwhelmed with sensation, lost in limbs and tongues, he dove suddenly into her body. The rush was fantastic, not giving her a moment to think before the loud, wet slap. He reached deep, passed flesh and into the very core of all pleasure. She radiated with it, choked and drowned in it. “Feel that?” His words were hoarse, thick. 

Alice’s rational mind relinquished control to the thirsty animal of her body – there was no place for words now. He held himself there, buried deep, letting her feel filled. Rocking into her with subtle motions to rub against swollen inner flesh, his pelvis occasionally grazed against her clit. She dug her heels into the small of his back to hold him there, but he wouldn’t have it. He angled and twisted, searching. A living seismometer, he carefully noted each muscle as it tensed, any tremble, every change in breathing, probing her, following the path of unconscious feedback. Never had she known such steady patience and focus in a lover. 

Then he found it, a place in her body so sensitized the steady kneading of his cock raged through her body. It became the sole focus of her mind – Alice squeezed her eyes shut, curling into him, arms and legs tightening on his body with a vice grip. Her awareness of him was blocked out by escalating pleasure. The thrill of a stranger, this sheer lewdness, tore through her body with an explosion that left her holding on so hard limbs ached. Alice released a cry that verged on becoming a wrenching sob.

The pinnacle of her orgasm passed. He began to thrust into her body in long, smooth motions. Rhythmic and determined she responded in kind, firmly thrusting herself onto him as the pace quickened. Never in her life had Alice so badly wanted a man to cum. The rhythm broke with a rumbling groan vibrating from his throat as his cum mingled with hers. Needy thrusts plunging hard into her body, holding himself inside her for a quivering moment and then suddenly relaxing.

The impossible happened – she felt something. Something substantial. Something more than a localized pleasure. The rush of realization hit her like a wave; finally, she’d had the kind of ograsm that mattered.

The golem had rolled off. Panting gently, he gave her a lingering kiss before letting his head fall to the pillow. The arm laying across her chest grew heavy and enervated. His face softened into expressionless rest. Well, she laughed to herself. This part at least was just like being with a real boy.

For the next week, Alice was utterly absorbed in him. The march of days went nearly unnoticed except for the gradual disappearance of coins. He was unselfconscious, unconcerned. Entirely hers. His hunger for Alice never dwindled; he was romantic when she craved love, playful when she was restless, ferocious when she was too embarrassed to admit she wanted to be fucked like a slut. He took her on the couch and in the shower, against a wall and over the kitchen sink. Once on the dining room table, which did an inadequate job of supporting her weight; a new table was now sorely needed. He held her through the nights, and while she binge-watched Netflix; “Love and Anarchy” turned out to be a curiously engaging show.  His “night mode” quickly became one of Alice’s favorite functions. She indulged in long lazy periods of closeness without sexual expectation sneaking in. There was no more indulging in imagination, the wall between her desire and reality shattered.  He was perfect.

Well, almost.

Dinners were lonely. He didn’t eat, and the golem wasn’t a great conversationalist. He only spoke when spoken to and offered purely direct answers, usually making little sense.

“What do you want to watch today?” Alice asked him once.


The unexpected answer delighted her. “Wow, good choice! Which one do you like most?”

“Because Joe Jonas made a video of him dancing to it and it is so funny.”

“Who is Joe Jonas?” she asked in patient confusion.

“Dead,” he stated matter of factly.

With conversation skills like that, she certainly didn’t trust going out on the town together. Besides, he had no shoes. Having a chat about anything other than sex was obviously a waste of currency, so she ate alone, with him sitting out of sight, eerily perched on the edge of her bed. Those moments grew heavier and heavier.  Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by herself at the table. In the end, she was still alone.

Sometimes she turned him on just to stare at him, an act any human being would find unsettling. She ached to know him better – but there was nothing to know. Lila had said he was new. He stared back at her peacefully, content just to be. It was almost enviable. Almost. Behind the warm glow of his eyes, she could detect a vacant shadow.  Turning away abruptly from the unwanted truth, Alice would push her back into him. The golem always wrapped his arms obligingly around her, and they stayed like that until sleep made Alice too stupid to care. “Tell me you love me,” she murmured half asleep.

“Truly, madly, deeply,” he whispered back. 

The day finally came when Alice reached into the little coin box hidden in a sock drawer and felt only its wooden bottom. Fingertips scurried into each corner and along the edges. 

“There’s gotta be one more,” her stomach lurched with panic. Pulling the box out she shook it hard. Her ears confirmed her fear; no rattle of coins – nothing. Throwing her box to the floor she pulled out every sock in the drawer. When that proved unfruitful, she searched the socks themselves, in case a stray coin found its way into the folds. Nothing.

Alice had gone through all the coins in a week!

She looked at the golem lying motionless on the bed. There was never any tension in the handsome features of his face. Crawling into the bed beside him, she placed his lifeless arm around her body, and retreated down, down, down – into a deep, silent place. Down, down, down.

The days grew long and empty. She had plenty of time to look around her life and be disappointed. Dogged by a constant disquiet, dreams of him coming to life were interrupted by nightmares filled with leprechauns. Each night was spent grieving over the still body. She kissed his warm lifeless lips, caressed his skin, tried to stir his cock. Desiccated by desperation, Alice was set alight by a sudden strike of frustration. Burning with fury she pounded him hard on the chest. 

“Will the fall NEVER end?”

The longer the golem lay motionless in her bed, the more bound Alice became to this being of stone turned flesh. There was no forgetting him, no moving on. He haunted her from the bedroom. She tried moving him onto the couch, but he haunted her from there too. She stuck him in a corner for a while but felt ashamed each time she passed by. There was no closet big enough and he didn’t fit under the bed either; the effort of trying both left her sweaty and defeated. She certainly couldn’t be seen dumping a human body somewhere and didn’t have the physical strength to pull it off.

For one mad moment, Alice thought of cutting him open to find the coins already inserted. Would he bleed? Would he heal?

That bizarre urge frightened her, like some dark apparition in a mirror. Unable to stand the sight of the golem, she grabbed a jacket from the kitchen floor and rushed out the door to a local bar. A stiff drink might stave off insanity.

Alice threw herself into the same barstool she always chose, grateful her preferred bartender was on shift.

Bar with girl drinking alone.


Art by Thomas Saliot

“Hey. Haven’t seen you in a while,” he poured her a glass of water, knowing it would go untouched.

“I’ve been distracted. Had a rough go.”

“We have medicine for that. Espresso and brandy?” He started polishing up a glass.

“No. Half a glass of coke, some Jack, topped with two espresso shots.”

“That’s disgusting,” he remarked, reaching for a can of coke.

“I call it Devil’s Nectar. Shut up and make my drink.”  He replied to Alice’s orders with a bemused smile, free-pouring a generous glug of whiskey. She always tipped generously when in a blustery mood. As espresso was poured into the glass, it’s contents foamed like a rabid animal.  The bartender watched her take the first sip, trying not to grimace.

The drink was as agreeable as battery acid. “Perfect,” she dismissed him with an approving smile. Alice thought her caretaker was particularly perceptive with the well timed exit, but really he was politely making room for someone else.

“Hey baby!”  came a voice from over her shoulder. It was Robert. He perched on the stool beside her. “Was thinking about you last week. You never answered my text.” Alice had forgotten their connection was primarily a result of frequenting the same bar. Even though only a couple of weeks had passed since they last saw each other, he seemed like a figure from a distant past.

“Sorry, lost track of things. Life got a little crazy.”

“Thought you might be ghosting me. Well, glad I ran into you, cause I really wanna fuck you,” he leaned in, eyes glinting and a teasing smile on his lips.

Alice reached for her drink, trying to buy a moment of time. The bland nature of his directness deflated any possibility of excitement. 

But he did speak in fully comprehensible sentences. And he was moving. He could be taken places – maybe.  All improvements on her current situation. “Well, that’s flattering,” she lied. “Maybe a little foreplay first? Oooo, I have an idea,” her eyes flashed with excitement, “There’s this great bookshop in the gayborhood! They have this section that’s pure smut.”  Leaning in like a schoolgirl sharing a naughty secret, she stage whispered breathlessly:  “Let’s read sexy garbage to each other.”

“Really? You want to look at dirty books? Isn’t that what old ladies do?” The sardonic smirk on his lips thudded Alice in the chest with a dull pain. “Let’s just go back to my place. I’ll show you how to get dirty.”

‘The comatose mannequin in my flat has more soul than this,” her mind flashed. Again, she turned to her drink, this time to hide the hurt. Even the black tar couldn’t mask the foul taste in her mouth. 

“How old are you?” Alice asked suddenly. Perhaps this was just the tone-deaf eagerness of a man younger than he looked. Maybe there was hope.


No. No, hope.

“Look, I don’t think this is gonna work.” She kept her eyes on the sludge in her glass, trying to contain the aching before it spread to her lungs.

“Wow, I thought you had a cool vibe. Too bad I was wrong.”  He started getting up from the barstool.

“It’s not my vibe that’s disappointing you.”

“Whatever, old lady.” He vanished from her periphery.

Alice walked sadly home, wondering if she would ever be happy again. Seeing the handsome, dormant man sitting on the couch, all the possibility for pleasure and escape locked away deep inside him, finally broke her. Alice threw herself into his lap and fell into a bitter weeping that dragged through time.

An unfamiliar voice shattered the silence of the room:

“Looks like someone’s ready for more coins.”

To be continued…

Wanna Play With Me?

Alice has to go on a quest to earn more coins.  What would you have her do? It can be sexually charged or innocent and silly.   Email your idea or add it to the comments:

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Fall Deeper


The beauty of the written word is the life-force that drums my heart and drives the blood through my veins. Explore the words that light up my life and reveal my nature.

Entre Deux

Entre Deux - A French Erotic Art Book

A mysterious book appeared on my bookshelf. 


Jacek Poprawski

This stunning piece is called “Poisoned Love”.  You can see all of this artist’s incredible work and purchase prints at the link bellow.