Nine months pregnant, and my husband was demanding a sex doll. I reluctantly agreed. The day it arrived, he banished me to the guest room. He then spent the night tucked away in our marriage bed, presumably riding roughshod over his new synthetic fantasy. I swallowed the acidic burn in my chest and tried to sleep alone. The next morning, my husband burst into the guest room, white as a sheet. “It’s over! The sex doll… it came to life!” I just stared at him. Funny coincidence. I had a sex doll of my own waiting to be resurrected. 1 Tate hadn't touched me since I got pregnant. To deal with his personal problems, as he called them, he had a genius idea. “Ainsley, what if I got one of those sex dolls? I hear they’re pretty awesome.” I frowned instantly. “Don’t you think using something like that is… creepy?” He bristled. “Creepy? No way, it’s completely normal, actually.” But seeing the thunderous look on my face, he switched tactics, launching into a month-long campaign of relentless emotional manipulation. “Come on, Honey… please just let me buy one. Can you really stand to see me suffering so much every single day?” Tate Wells was a man who wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. He spent thirty days browsing models on his phone, softening me up with constant pleas and sighs. I finally cracked, just for the sake of silence. At least I’d have some peace and quiet. Tate immediately clicked "Buy" on the expensive, silicone mannequin he'd been eyeing. A few days later, he came home, beaming, carrying a massive box. I didn't have the energy for him. I lay on the couch, scrolling through my phone, refusing to even look his way. But he actually dragged me off the cushions. “What is wrong with you?” I demanded, utterly bewildered. He winked conspiratorially, pushing me toward the living room. “I’m opening the package, you need to be out here. I’ll be too self-conscious with you watching… unless, of course, you want to join the fun?” I was too disgusted to speak. He slammed the master bedroom door shut and locked it. The sound of tape ripping and cardboard tearing soon followed. I couldn’t describe the sick feeling swirling in my stomach. I couldn’t stop imagining him tucked away in our marriage bed, conquering his synthetic fantasy. A wave of painful, acidic sadness washed over me. I took a deep breath and walked to the guest room. I was already telling myself what I needed to hear: the moment I finished my maternity leave, I would file for divorce, cutting him out entirely. This marriage had ceased to exist the second he first proposed that grotesque purchase. Half an hour later, Tate emerged. I was morbidly curious about the doll and wanted to see what he’d bought, but he blocked the doorway, refusing to let me in. If I needed anything, he’d fetch it. I glared at him, pure venom in my eyes. He instantly softened his voice. “Come on, please. And… you should sleep in the guest room tonight, okay? You’re the best, Ainsley!” My blood was boiling. I wanted to scream, to tear him apart, but thinking of his relentless, nauseating campaign over the past month, a tidal wave of exhaustion washed over me instead. I just didn't have the fight in me anymore. I turned and walked away. The next morning, before I was even fully awake, he slammed open the guest room door. “It’s over! It’s all over! The sex doll came to life!” I sat up in bed, my brain sluggish with sleep. What in the hell does that even mean? I spent a few seconds waking up, and then the truth hit me with a cold, hard certainty. My face went utterly expressionless. He was cheating. 2 Tate clearly didn't realize I’d instantly seen through his pathetic lie. He pulled me into the living room to look. I sized up the young woman standing in the middle of the room, her face completely blank. She was slender, thin, and wearing only a piece of cheap, ill-fitting lingerie. “This is… your sex doll?” I asked, my voice flat. Where did he even find her? He managed to hide his mistress this well? And she was striking, slender, and attractive. How desperate do you have to be to go after Tate? He was decent-looking and charming before we married, but afterward, he'd bloated into a selfish, entitled pig. Since I got pregnant, he'd been a nightmare. Did they start this before the wedding? The thought was deeply unsettling. “Yes!” Tate clapped his hands together, frantic and sweating, pacing in a tight circle. “I finished using it last night, and just kept it next to me while I slept. I woke up this morning, and she was on the bed! The doll was gone! No one else could have gotten in, so it has to be the doll coming to life!” I stood silent for a long moment. “So, the heavy package you brought home yesterday… woke up?” I asked, watching the woman’s expression. She didn’t react, her eyes remaining wide and vacant, as if she didn't understand what I was saying. “That’s exactly it! Ainsley, what are we going to do?” I nodded thoughtfully. Then I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the cheek. He clutched his face, his eyes wide with shock. “Why did you hit me? You don’t believe me? But I’m telling you the truth!” I almost yelled, Do you think I’m an idiot? That I’d fall for that imbecilic lie? But I swallowed the words. Instead, I leaned in, my voice dripping with weary irritation. “Tate Wells! How dare you even ask me what to do? This is a national incident! A sex doll achieving sentience! You should be reporting this to the Pentagon immediately! Do you have no sense of civic duty?” Tate froze. He glanced quickly at his ‘sex doll,’ then back at me. “But…” I pointed a sharp finger at him. “The government must regret ever investing in your education.” Then I reached for my phone to call 911. The police would run her fingerprints, check her ID, and the whole pathetic truth would unravel instantly. A sex doll came to life, indeed. I bet his entire family was a bunch of inflatable knock-offs. Before I could dial, Tate lunged and snatched the phone from my hand. I gave him a look of utter bewilderment. He lowered his gaze, chewing on his lip, looking profoundly uncomfortable. “The police… maybe we shouldn’t call them?” “Why not?” He remained silent, only giving me a shifty, guilty sidelong glance. I pressed him, asking Why? Why? Why? My voice rising with each repetition. Finally, he cracked, gritting his teeth and spitting out the truth. “Because she’s a gift from Heaven!” “Why didn’t anyone else’s doll come to life? Only mine! That means she’s a sign—a great blessing to make up for all the suffering I’ve endured!” “I’ve had to live in such subservience for so long, trying to please you. And now I finally have the chance to have my cake and eat it too! Can’t you just let me enjoy it? Why are you so jealous? She’s not even fully a person!” 3 Tate's speech made my stomach heave, the bile rising in my throat. My unborn baby kicked gently, responding to my sudden distress. I rubbed my chest, trying to calm the nausea, and addressed him with heavy gravity. “The most important thing you need to do right now is uninstall every single trashy romance novel app on your phone.” “And what is this ‘subservience’ you’re talking about? Has marrying me truly made you this miserable?” Tate pursed his lips and kept his eyes downcast, constantly stealing glances at me—the picture of an oppressed, long-suffering spouse. He whispered weakly, “What else? I’ve been living like a monk, staying loyal just for you… you have no idea how much simple male pleasure I’ve had to sacrifice…” “Look at you now. You’re not affectionate, you’re moody, you snap at everything, and you’re so big and…” He trailed off, but I knew what he was going to say: fat and ugly. I was furious, followed immediately by another wave of nausea. The fetal movement grew frantic. Everything was telling me not to lose my temper. Nine months pregnant, I had to be smart—smarter than him. Arguing with this vile man was not the priority. The pregnancy hormones made controlling my emotions a Herculean task. I clutched my stomach, took several deep, measured breaths, and finally managed to find some calm. I looked at the ‘sex doll.’ She stood awkwardly in the center of the room, curiously scanning her surroundings. The vacant, bewildered look in her eyes didn't look faked. Could she actually be a doll that came to life? The absurd thought flashed through my mind. I picked up a throw blanket from the couch and draped it over her shoulders. She wrapped it tightly around herself and gave me a soft, thankful smile. The strange feeling in my stomach intensified. “Does she need to eat?” I asked suddenly. Tate blinked. “…I guess so? I checked her over. She’s definitely a living human.” Checked her over? How, exactly? I frowned, saying nothing, and gently touched the exposed skin of her forearm. The warmth, the pulse, the fine veins—definitely a real person. The woman looked at me, confused, clearly not understanding why I was poking her. “Does she speak? Does she understand English?” Tate shook his head. “Doesn’t seem to.” “Hmm.” I nodded thoughtfully. “So, you’ll have to teach her to speak?” Tate suddenly gave me a slimy, oily smile and walked over, gently stroking my pregnant belly. “Perfect! We’re going to teach the baby to speak soon, so this is great practice. And when the baby is born, we can have her take care of you during your maternity leave. Isn’t that perfect?” Have her take care of me? Absolutely not. Tate held my hands, his tone pleading again. “Please, Ainsley… what if you call the cops and they take her away for live testing? Would you really want that? You have a good heart.” I kept my face cold, saying nothing. I hated the way he begged. It was the same relentless, grating plea he’d used for a month to get the doll in the first place. “Honey, come on! It’s like earning good karma for our baby! Plus, we get a free, live-in nanny. A two-for-one deal!” It was, in fact, an extremely practical arrangement. It only meant one extra mouth to feed, and with our savings and income, we could easily afford it. I bit my lip, mulling it over. A plan began to solidify in my mind. I held out my hand to him. “Let me see your phone.” Tate looked confused but handed it over quickly. I opened his shopping app and checked his purchase history. There it was: the sex doll, marked as "Confirmed Delivery." Could I request a refund based on the doll coming to life? I wondered wryly. I memorized the company name and returned the phone to him. I then adopted a sharp, commanding tone. “Fine. Let her stay, but we’ll observe her first. If she’s useful, I won’t call the police. If she’s not, I’m sending her away, no matter what.” “And you are solely responsible for teaching her the language and house chores. Don’t expect any help from me.” Tate's face lit up with undisguised joy. “That’s amazing! I knew my wife was the best!” He hugged me quickly, then took the woman’s hand, led her into the master bedroom, and locked the door behind them. I rolled my eyes at the closed door, completely indifferent to whatever obscenity was about to unfold inside. I walked into the guest room and locked my own door. I opened my phone, looked up the doll company, and browsed their catalog. I quickly saw he’d bought their cheapest model—a half-body model, lacking a head. The full-figure model was twice the price. I let out a cold, cynical laugh and opened the customer service chat. Me: [Do you have male sex dolls?] The representative took a while to respond. They sounded like a veteran of the e-commerce wars, completely unflappable. Customer Service: [No, but we can do a custom order.] Perfect. Who says I couldn't have a ‘sex doll’ waiting to be resurrected, too? Me: [Please customize one for me. Half-body is fine.] The agent immediately sent a deposit link. I paid it without hesitation, then asked for more details. Me: [Will the doll be wearing clothes when delivered?] Customer Service: [Female dolls wear lingerie. Male dolls will wear shorts, but nothing else.] Me: [Where is the inflation port?] 4 An hour or so later, a satiated Tate left for work, leaving me alone with the ‘sex doll.’ He sent me a few texts. [I named her Doll.] [Have her make you breakfast later.] [I already showed her tutorial videos for cooking. She’s a fast learner.] Me: [Fine.] Have her cook for me? Was I trying to win a Darwin Award? I changed my clothes and left the guest room. Passing the kitchen, I saw Linh—the name I was using for her in my head—wearing my silk nightgown, skillfully washing the pile of dishes in the sink. Remembering Tate’s claim that she was a fast learner, I narrowed my eyes, examining her hands. Were they smooth, like those of someone newly born, or rough, like those of a woman who’d spent years doing manual labor? She turned around and looked at me, a slight panic in her eyes. She stared for a moment, then made a gesture for eating, nodding and smiling sweetly, indicating that breakfast would be ready soon. I found the scene strangely unsettling. I jerked my chin at her and waved my hand, indicating she should just eat by herself. Then, I went into the master bedroom and scanned the space. The huge shipping box was still there, but the contents were gone. It would be hard to dispose of a synthetic body that size without a trace, I thought. But then I remembered: the community trash truck collected all garbage at 5 AM sharp. Tate had woken me up just after five. Was it a coincidence? Or was he deliberately timing his trash run? Just in case the ‘sex doll’ was also a thief, I locked up all the valuables in the master bedroom. Only when I was sure everything was secure did I leave the house to grab breakfast at a coffee shop downstairs. Sipping my oat latte, a sudden, ridiculous thought struck me. I opened a messaging app, found the profile of an old university friend, Brooks Carrington, and sent him a cryptic message. Me: [Want to be my sex doll?] Brooks was a bored, eccentric millionaire—a perfect blend of rich playboy and goofy performance artist. He was constantly looking for the next spectacle. I knew the story of a sex doll coming to life would hook him immediately. My due date was less than a month away. After the birth and my recovery, I’d ditch Tate and keep the baby. But before then, I needed to make my own 'fun' and exact my revenge on this pathetic man. I couldn’t suppress the smile on my face as I imagined the look on Tate's face when he found out my sex doll had also achieved sentience. But when I returned home and found that woman slumped over the toilet, dry-heaving… I stopped smiling. I panicked.
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