If you’re thinking right now, Hey, Sexanaut Annie, that sounds like exactly the alive-in-some-definition sex toy I would love to use to pleasure myself, get ready to take out a loan. The basic model will set you back a cool $18,900 with the basic Sweet Candy Candice head. But don’t fret, that also includes the organs, so once you’ve finished screwing it, you can get a new kidney transplant (assuming it’s DNA compatible).

Before we get to the review of what it’s like to actually fuck one, I have to note here that there are also more disturbing and questionably immoral and illegal custom heads and mods you can order on specialty fetish sites with horrifying names like LittleLittle, BrokenBunny, and Decapigirl, which are exactly what they sound like. Whether growjobs catering to pedophiles, would-be serial killers, and cannibals are “a victim-free outlet that will help them control their urges” or “a stepping stone that will inevitably escalate to real and increasingly violent crimes” is still up for debate—and a topic for a whole other article (which you can click here to read if you’re feeling brave).

Enough context and technical specs! Let’s get to the product review. As always, all products were paid for in full by Sexanaut, and this review is an unbiased first-person experience. Your own subjective experience may differ.

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Joe nests his head on her collarbone, above her perfect, naked breasts, nipples pink and pert, always. He’s dripping sweat, but her skin is warm, and soft, and only clammy in the places where she has been pressed against him.

He fiddles for his phone, dials the app over to “Romance—Intimate.” In the new software update, they’ve promised voice controls, but he can probably figure out a patch himself. He’s good like that. He folds her arms around his back. Her eyes widen. He’s noticed they do this every time she’s about to say something.

“I love you,” she breathes. He doesn’t recognize her accent. It’s bewitching. New Zealand maybe, or British. Maybe he should go there one day. Try to track down the voice actor. Her plush lips move over white plastic teeth, not quite right, not getting the shape of the o in love. He needs a better, more expensive head. The weight of her arms is a light pressure, not exactly holding him, but close. Isn’t that something, at least? Close.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He does an awkward reach-around to move her hand to stroke his back, enough times until she starts mimicking the movement. Girl see, girl do.

“I love you too, Satine,” he whispers into her neck.

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