Mars Needs Women

This job sucks. I know, I write that every day in this stupid journal, but I feel like I need to write it every fucking day. This job really sucks.
It certainly sounds nice enough. The workload is light and easy and the pay is unbelievable. Plus, you get to go to Mars. Even in this day and age only a few people get to actually go out into outer space. It had always been my dream to go to Mars. But the catch is you’re stuck on this planet. You can’t just pop over to town on a weekend. There’s no town. There ain’t even a bar. Alcohol ain’t allowed here. I wasn’t much of a drinker when I came here but when I get home I definitely will be.
I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: the brochure lied to me. No, that’s not right. The accommodations are like it said. I haven’t been stiffed in pay like everyone on Earth warned me. But the people at this mine aren’t like the people in that fancy brochure Wudayi sends out. They are not the smiling, happy, handsome people in that brochure.
I’ll stop beating around the bush. I’m talking about the female people in that brochure. At this term, there are three women on this base. Mike tells me that the most he recalls at one time is ten. In the brochure, it looks like a sane one woman to every two men, instead of like thirty-five men to every one freaking woman. It’s a buyer’s market for any woman who passes the Wudayi standard. They can choose any one of the young, physical fit, and horny as hell men on this base. It don’t matter that they usually look more like us than any lady, they can still find some guy to treat them like Helen of Troy. If a woman wanted to be a huge slut and fuck a new young stud or two every night, her best bet would be to come up to Olympus Mons. Of course, two of the three women don’t even want any fucking men and prefer to go fuck each other.
I haven’t as much as held hands with a woman in a year and it’s driving me crazy. I have four more years of this. I don’t know how Mike has stood twelve years of this shit. I’m about ready to ask my mom to off my old man, so that I can come home without paying the penalty. I’d probably end up at the funeral doing my cousin Abigail right on the damn coffin I’m that horny. But it isn’t just the sex. After all, I have two working hands. I’m also feeling damn right romantic for some reason. I just want to lay in bed holding a woman, feeling her weight on me. I want to hear a woman’s voice as she flirts with me. I want to smell a woman; I want to taste a woman. I want to experience a woman with every freaking sense I have in my body.
So that’s why I paid Uncanny Valley so much. I mean, it cost a fourth of my pay to get this thing. I justified it by saying that if I’d lose more money if I just let myself go insane. Plus, I’m not the only one working here who’s brought one. Other guys working here have talked about that, but they always say it someone else who’s done it. Please. You know them guys are the ones with a sex doll in their closet.
Now, there are a lot of sex dolls out there, but Uncanny Valley has the best. Actually, there’re technically organic androids, I’ve been told, but everyone calls them living dolls. They do have non-sexual uses, but of course it’s the sex one everyone’s after. Uncanny Valley has high end ones that last for seven years and can be trained to do certain tasks. The lower end ones just last a day or two and can’t really do much but just wiggle. Frankly, those ones are just good for bachelor parties.
Yeah, I don’t think I mentioned it before but I ordered a sex doll a month ago. I don’t remember why I didn’t write it down in this journal. I guess I was afraid to jinx things, though now I feel I did something unlucky. But I’ll get to that later.
Anyway, it arrived today. The mail room called me, told me to pick up this huge package. It came in a huge crate, unmarked so that everyone knew it was something weird. No matter. I took a dolly and wheeled it back to my room, all filled with anticipation. I opened the crate. Inside the crate was a thick manual, some mail back stuff, a grey disk, a hose, and finally the strange container my new toy came in.
The container really was a strange sight. It made me think of Snow White’s glass coffin. It was made of this strange glasslike material that I want to say is plastic, but I know that’s not right. Inside the coffin was this murky grey substance. This substance shimmered with every move. I couldn’t see inside this coffin, to my disappointment. Along the side was a dark grey rim, and in the middle of this rim was a hose coupling. I had read the instruction for this before hand, so I knew what to do. I thought I didn’t need the manual.
I moved the coffin into my bathroom. I’m so glad we got private suites here. Anyway, I attached the hose to the coupling and put the other end in the sink. I then started to fill the bathtub with warm water in preparation. I went back to the coffin and turned on the pump. Slowly, with a low glomping sound, the weird grey gump spew into my sink. I silently prayed that it wouldn’t muck up the plumbing or stain. When the coffin was a quarter of the way done, I stopped the pump. Though the excess synthoaminiontic fluid, as it’s called, needs to be removed, you still needed to keep some of it. I turned off the water in the bathtub. It was time to open the coffin.
With nervous hands I took out the hose and inserted the grey disk in the coupling. This disk was the key to open the coffin. I turned the disk and slowly lifted up the heavy lid. Inside I could see some pale skin peeking out from the depths, the tip of the nose and toes of my doll. I lifted the doll out of the murky liquid, not worried about the state of my clothes but only that I was wasting too much of the precious fluid. The doll didn’t feel warm or cold, but just a creepy lukewarm. It was heavy, but the buoyant sort of heavy of a real human being. I wished I had help like my online reading suggested, but I don’t know what sort of friends the people who suggested that had. With some clumsy effort, I gently almost dropped the doll into the clear warm water.
This all felt like Christmas, when you get that expensive toy you wanted and you spend all day unwrapping and setting up and turning it on. It’s more work than most childhood chores, but it feels worth it, even if you just end up the next day shoving it under your bed, if only for that one moment. I felt like a little kid, but unlike a little kid I had a huge erection. I just couldn’t wait.
The next step was to rub the doll to clean it and to “turn it on”. I touched the wet skin, and was both excited and crept out by how real it felt. Even in my most idealistic fantasies I had imagined the skin to feel plastic.
Yet as I started to wash and rub the doll, I realized something was not right. This doll wasn’t the right shape. I touched the chest, and it was flat. Now, I had been modest with the breast department, not going overboard with giving it huge porn star hooters, but there should have been something. Disturbed, my hand slowly went down, across the stomach, all the way to the groin. I felt a penis. I had a man doll.
I want to say that I stopped touching there, but I didn’t. I just kept feeling that strange penis. I have never in my life touched another man’s penis. I’m not queer or anything likes that. I was just curious. Unlike my own old-fashioned penis, this one had a foreskin. I think that’s what made me so fascinated. And I’m not an expert on foreskins, but this one was perfect. Growing up, foreskins were some weird thing foreigners had, like fried snails and hairy armpits. I still don’t like see uncut dicks in my porn, which is why I prefer lesbian stuff. I’ve never cried over my foreskin like some guys in my generation do. Yet this foreskin made me wish I had one of my own.
As the waters cleared, I got a better image the doll I accidently got. Man, not only did I want this doll’s foreskin, I wanted to have its entire body! Perfectly muscled in every regard. I’m not queer, but it was an awesome body. This thing was more wiry, more like an athlete than a body builder. It also had nice face, and long blonde hair. This was some sort of Aryan god here. And I looked down to see the dick…Jesus it was huge. Not monster huge, but certainly put mine to shame. I couldn’t stop myself from wondering whether it could get erect. I started to rub it for this purpose, and then realized I needed to rub the rest of the body in order to warm it up. I was just too curious. I started to rub the legs, the thighs, up to the chest, cleaning everything off and feeling muscle I didn’t even know existed. The skin warmed up, and became more soft, even more real. I then turned my attention back to the penis, which to my surprise was already growing. I could see the head peaking out. I put my hand around it, and felt how thick it was. I slowly pumped the foreskin up and down. The head of the penis was big but not disproportionate. The thing subtly got longer and thicker, till I couldn’t quite reach my fist around it. I could also feel it get harder. It was strangely soothing to do this. As it reached full mast, I suddenly wondered if it would cum, and what the hell it would cum. I knew the female dolls got wet, but I hadn’t read anything on the males because I wasn’t interested in them. Then I remembered. The manual! The forgotten manual!
I wiped off my hands and went to the living room to get the damn manual. As soon as I opened it I realized I should have read it first and not just trusted my internet instructions. There were plenty of pictures in that manual that should have tipped me off to the fact that this was the male model. I turned to the return policy and found as expected that I had already breached it by far. I couldn’t return this doll to Uncanny Valley. It was already half turned on.
Half turned on? I rushed back into the bathroom to see if the doll was safe. The only thing worse than the wrong doll would be a broken wrong doll. I noticed some bubbles coming out of its pursed lips. I manually opened up the mouth, and out spewed water. The doll made its first chokes of life, and then opened its perfect blue-green eyes. It stared at me. Suddenly for the first time I now felt like I had a human instead of a doll in my bathtub. A naked human that thanks to my molesting now had a huge erection. I felt incredible embarrassed and wanted to apologize, even though I knew this creature couldn’t understand me or even what crime I had done to it. Instead I gently slipped my hand under its back and neck and slowly helped it sit up. Sitting up in my tub, the creature swiveled towards me. Then with an independence and intelligence I didn’t expect, it just stood itself up. My cheek was grazed by its wet penis. I just stared at the creature. The creature looked ahead, and looked around. It was alive.
I don’t know how long I sat there, but I finally remembered that I too could stand up. I stood up, and realized something. I think I was still thinking about a female sex doll, because I had a boner, and it couldn’t be from a male sex doll. I could feel it against my wet pants. Stay calm, I thought, as I took the doll by the hand and led it around the coffin. What was I to do? I just took a towel and dried off the creature, and then lead it to my bedroom. I sat the creature down on my bed, and went back to the bathroom to clean myself off. I closed the coffin, pushed it somewhat out of the way, stripped out of my clothes, drained the tub, and stepped in to take a shower. The bottom of the tub was covered in a gross film but I didn’t give a damn at this point. I just turned on the water and let it cleanse me good.
After my shower, I went back into the bedroom with a towel on me for some dumb reason. The damn creature was still there where I put it, and it still had an erection. I have to admit it made sense that the damn thing was still erect. You want a sex doll with some stamina. I wondered if out somewhere there was somebody with my sex doll, while I had their dream right in front of me.
The creature looked at me like a curious baby. It looked into my eyes, staring for meaning, and then its eyes wandered down. I realized the creature wasn’t the only thing that was still erect. My damn pecker, so sad in front of this beast, wanted attention. Goddamnit. My heart was pounding. What was I going to do?
Now journal, I want to make it clear that the last thing I was thinking of was to actually have sex with this male doll. I know I did a lot of things before than this point which sound really queer, but that was because of ignorance, curiosity, and some sense of responsibility to this human like thing. But now it had been over an hour that I had been fixing to sex up a female doll, and I had waited two weeks to get this sex doll, and I hadn’t masturbated since last night, and I hadn’t had sex in a year and almost a half (why oh why didn’t I fuck something the night before I left?) and I was insanely blue balled at this point. I know I should have just masturbated. Yes, I know that now because some blood is actually going to my brain at this point. But I didn’t. I think I was too embarrassed to masturbate in front of this thing. Yes, after you read what I’m about to write you’ll think that’s a really stupid excuse, but I was stupid then. I’m not queer.
So, I dropped my towel and walked over to the creature. I took the creature’s hand, and place it on my pecker. I then moved the hand back and forth over my penis. The creature learned how to give me a hand job, and so I took my hand off. Oh god, it wasn’t the best hand job, it was much too dry and clumsy for that, but it felt like the best hand job. Like some teenager I couldn’t stand more than a few pumps and I just blew a huge load everywhere, and then quickly took those hands off me.
But it didn’t stop there. It would have stopped there if I wasn’t still so goddamn hard. Maybe I should have just gotten another clumsy hand job, but I didn’t. I don’t know how to write this, but I have to. I fucked this handsome Frankenstein’s monster. I propped the creature on all fours, lubed up my dick with my overused jerk-off lotion, and stuck it in. And god, it felt good. It felt so tight and warm. It squeezed me so hard. I then pumped and pumped and pumped that creature. The creature had been quiet till then but now it started making weird howls like a deaf person. Poor thing may have been in pain but I didn’t care. There were lights behind my eyes and stars and everything and I just shook the damn bed back and forth. It was so awesome I don’t even know if I came one or two times. Jesus forgive me, it was good. I finally feel backwards off the bed after a spectacular orgasm.
After a moment I stood up again, and looked at the creature. It was still in position, and it was shaking, either out of pain or pleasure or probably both. I then looked under the creature, and I noticed it was right near ready to burst. I don’t know why I did this. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m not queer. But I felt sorry for the thing. And curious. So I rolled it over, and put that huge dripping cock in my mouth. I gave a blowjob to male sex doll.
It’s weird. Sucking on that thing felt really soothing. It’s like something from infancy, though that’s a mighty disturbing thought. It did hurt my jaw a whole lot, but I didn’t care. I could get much of it down my throat, and I don’t know why I tried. The creature moaned pleasantly, not the distressed sounds of before, and I felt less guilty for tearing it in half. Then it jerked its hips up, made me gag, and before I knew it the damn thing came in my mouth. Yes, I should have expected that, but I was still surprised the thing could make cum. I don’t know if it’s the doll or if cum just taste that bad, but that stuff was nasty! I had to spit it out on to its damn perfect washboard stomach.
I got off the bed, and just stood there looking at the creature. The creature looked at me back. I felt sore, my mouth felt dirty, and I was as filled with shame as I had lust before. I had sex with a male doll? I wasn’t interested in men, no matter how handsome they were. Was I just prison gay? Did this doll make me queer? Was it just that fucking handsome? Plus, that thing laying on my bed wasn’t right. It didn’t feel quite like a human, and more like a human shaped thing. The whole deal felt like bestiality but with a human, and it probably would have felt that way even with a female doll. Maybe even worse. Jesus, this thing hasn’t been alive for an hour and already I’d fucked it. I’d fucked a new born infant. I should go to jail for both bestiality and pedophilia. I’m sure there Bubba could show me how gay I am. How are these dolls even legal?
The creature is still on my bed. I’m letting it sleep there out of guilt and laziness. Not that the bed is in very good shape at this point, but it’s nicer than the couch. I’ve been reading the manual more on taking care of this thing, 'cause I’m afraid I have it for the long run. I’m even thinking of naming it. Maybe something mythical likes Triton or even something like Hunter. That creature on my bed needs a name.
Jesus, just writing this dumb story has gotten me hard again. But I’m not going to fuck the doll again. I need to get me a woman. I wish Mars had women.
- From the journal of Bobby McNeely, Olympus Mons Mining Facility, November 9, 2028 (Mars Dating)

Author’s Notes:
I am not a scientist. I’ve been told that I’m pretty science literate for humanities major, but that was from a teacher whose class I quit because I was doing so poorly. I have no idea how you could create such a realistic android or even how you could travel to Mars. That’s why I didn’t try to explain any of the technology. It’s not like the narrator knows how it works or even cares. He’s not stupid, per se, just not very knowledgeable. Most people aren’t. If a time traveler from the past came to our time and asked the average person how the internet works he would probably get a nonsense answer about tubes and dump trucks.

This piece, as you can see, is set a little more than twenty years into the future. Possibly this is a bad idea. I’ll get back to that in twenty years. I am more ashamed at the lack of social evolution than the hand waving of technology in this piece. It might be that in the future even an environment that should be a sausage fest (a still pioneering, possibly dangerous, isolated extraterrestrial mine) somehow has a good ratio of women to men. As well, views on sex, especially homosexuality, are always changing. Then again, coming up with future societies is extremely difficult. Even futuristic settings from ten years ago can look hopelessly zeerust now days.

Wudayi is Chinese corporation. The way I see it, America’s star is falling and China’s star is rising. The protagonist probably speaks Mandarin as a second language. However, unlike in Firefly, he does not curse in Chinese. It makes more sense that proper English words slowly become vernacular or derogatory. Take a look at the Anglo-Saxon origin of our curse words, for example. But this is just twenty years later, so don’t mourn the English language yet. Anyway, according to Wikipedia “wudayi” literally means “five against one”. This shows the power of many joining together. It’s also a term for male masturbation.

I imagined the narrator, Bobby McNeely, as a blue collar West Virginian. He’s from the city, of course, but the backwoods aren’t that far behind him. I’ve attempted to make his language a bit Appalachian/Midland without making him sound like Snuffy Smith. That’s my excuse for the grammar, and I’m sticking with it.