Golem

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Copyright Oggbashan April 2005

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

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When my wife Elaine left me I sank into deep despair. She had been the dominant partner in our marriage and I was her sexual slave. She had betrayed me with my best friend and I thought that they spent their time laughing at me. I could imagine her telling Damon all the things she made me do before she would consent to ride me. I relived all the humiliations I had endured, now made worse by the thought that our bedroom secrets were a matter of amusement between them.

The clothes Elaine had abandoned in her wardrobe made it worse. They were like a time capsule reminding me of a relationship that had ended. It took weeks before I could move them to the wardrobe in the spare bedroom. As I moved them a faint trace of Elaine's perfume remained. I sat down on the spare bed and cried.

Even when her absence moved on to become a legal separation I couldn't bring myself to look for another woman. Elaine's betrayal had ruined me for any other woman. I couldn't be the dominant partner. I couldn't face being the submissive partner, knowing that I could be abandoned and betrayed again.

I thought I could find a professional dominatrix who could replicate what I had felt for Elaine. I made discreet enquiries. I found out about a local lady who did discipline. I couldn't face it. The thought that this woman played at being the mistress of several men a day repelled me.

I still wanted sex. I needed to lie underneath someone and accept their lovemaking. In desperation I ordered a plastic doll, a fantasy woman, to be my bed partner. When the parcel arrived I was just leaving for work. The thought of my own pliable woman waiting for me distracted me all day. Eventually, claiming a headache, I left work early and hurried home.

That night I nearly cried real tears of frustration. This thing, this plastic pseudo-person, this doll - was nothing like a real demanding woman. It was so light, so flimsy, so flexible, so accommodating and so unreal. I wanted solidity, weight, mass to pin me down, to overcome my inhibitions, to swamp my senses; someone to surrender to. I managed a reach an unsatisfactory and unfulfilling climax after hours of effort.

The following night I tried again. This time instead of inflating the doll with air I filled her with water. The result was a split doll, a soaking bed and plaster damage in the room below my bedroom. Plastic dolls are not designed to hold water.

Perhaps it wasn't the principle that was wrong, just this particular doll. I started searching the internet for more expensive and more robust mannequins. Each was ordered with excitement. Each failed to meet my expectations. They had individual variations but they shared the same failing. They couldn't replicate the weight of a large woman pinning me to the bed as Elaine had done.

I had spent weeks in my fruitless search for a more solid partner only to find that each one was ultimately frail and fragile. I had even bought a shop mannequin from a store's bankruptcy sale. She had been too hard, unyielding and devoid of sexual characteristics. I carved her about to install parts from the punctured dolls. I strapped myself to her body inside oversized corsets. I clamped my legs to hers inside extra-sized footless pantyhose. I tied my wrists to hers with silk scarves. In the end as I came into her transplanted plastic vagina all I felt was ridiculous mortification that with all my efforts I couldn't achieve a fraction of what Elaine had been able to do to me with a few words and a lift of an eyebrow.

Several of the dolls had been ordered from a large mail order company. Their brochure offered special services for personal customers by appointment. I booked three days off work and made an appointment. I would have to drive nearly four hundred miles and stay overnight. By now I didn't expect much although the voice at the end of the telephone had promised that they could meet nearly everyone's needs given enough time and money.

Several times I considered cancelling the appointment. Could I really admit my secret desires to a stranger? If I couldn't ask a professional sex-worker to meet them, how could I ask a manufacturer of sexual dolls? What made me keep the appointment was the expense of pre-booking the hotel. That was ridiculous. The cost of the fuel for the journey would be more than the hotel's deposit.

I set off early in the morning. I wanted to be a long way from home before stopping for lunch. I felt conspicuous in the restaurant. Everyone else there was dining as couples or family groups. I thought they were looking at me alone on my table. I even felt as if my errand was written in bold across my face 'Look, everybody. That man is going to order a plastic doll to fuck!' I ate hurriedly and drove on.

I arrived at my destination far too early. What does a single man do in a strange town if he is not looking for company? The cinema was showing children's films. I'd look out of place among the families and would probably attract attention. 'There's a strange man looking at me, mummy.' Another uncomfortable restaurant meal passed an hour or two. I tried a town centre pub and felt as if I was the oldest there by a couple of generations. Looking in at the other pubs they all seemed to be full of children who were too young to be drinking.

In despair I returned to the hotel and watched the television. The few available channels were boring. I tried reading a book. I couldn't concentrate. I went down to the lobby, collected some tourist leaflets to see whether I could go somewhere before my two o'clock appointment. Sitting on my hotel bed I flicked through the information. All the local attractions were either closed for the winter season or fifty miles away or designed specifically for children. Tomorrow morning would be as boring as this evening.

When I finally went to sleep I dreamed of Elaine. It was a frustrating dream. Elaine was close, standing by the bed, apparently attainable. Every time I wanted her to relive the things I had enjoyed she would turn away saying: 'I don't do that now. I'm with Damon.'

I woke early in the morning, had breakfast, and walked to the town centre park. Around me people were hurrying to work. I strolled as slowly and casually as I could. I seemed to be watched by everyone who passed. Each one seemed to say 'I know why you are here in this town. Shouldn't you be ashamed of yourself? We are busy workers. You are just a pathetic loser...'

The town's museum opened at ten o'clock. I was waiting impatiently on the doorstep. Impatient to get into a museum? How pathetic could I be?

The museum kept me occupied for a whole two hours. I had been around it twice and examined almost every exhibit as if it were a masterpiece. I knew more about history of the town than many of the long-term residents would know. So much of it was chronicles of minor events. Who cared if a Royalist General had stopped here for one night on the way to a battle he lost? Who cared that the inventor of some process long obsolete had been born in the town and left as soon as he was old enough?

Lunch was another ordeal. Surrounded by office workers scrambling through their break I felt very much alone and conspicuous. Well before the time of my appointment I was walking down the access road to the industrial estate. It was built close to the town centre on the site of the long defunct heavy industry that had been the town's sole reason to exist.

Ten minutes before I was due I entered the shabby reception area. A middle-aged frumpy receptionist deigned to look up from her wordsearch magazine.

"Yes?"

She sounded as bored as she looked.

"I have an appointment at two o'clock."

I gave my name. She brightened up and looked almost human.

"So you have. You are slightly early. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?"

"Coffee would be nice, please."

"Black or white?

"White, please, no sugar."

"OK."

She opened a door behind her desk. I could see a kitchen area. She put prepared the coffee standing where I could see her.

"You've come a long way, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure that you will find that the journey was worth it. Did you stay overnight?"

"Yes. In a hotel in the town centre."

"And I bet you found nothing much to do in our fair city at this time of year."

"No."

"I'm not surprised. We have never been a place for tourists or visitors. We're just an ordinary manufacturing town that has lost its main industry and hasn't found much to replace it. All our bright young people move away as soon as they can. This place is one of the largest employers after the Council and the Hospital. Odd, isn't it?"

What could I say? I said nothing except to thank her for the coffee. My lack of response didn't deter her.

"We send our products all over the world now we advertise on the internet. Our turnover has increased by three hundred percent in the last five years."

"Has it?"

"Yes. We now have to work a three-shift system to meet the demand. Six days a week, twenty-four hours a day this place is humming. We don't work Sundays. The founder wouldn't have liked it."

She nodded at a portrait of a Victorian gentleman in the foyer.

"Of course, he wouldn't have liked what we now sell anyway. He produced shop mannequins and dummies for nurse training. We still do resuscitation dolls but that is a minor part of our range."

I sipped my coffee. It was good.

"I'll just check to see whether they are ready for you."

She picked up the phone. I barely heard what was said. Either the person on the other end had very good hearing or the phone amplified.

"Mr Smith is ready for you. Through that door," she pointed to my left, "second door on the right. His name is on the door."

"Thank you," I replied. "And thanks for the coffee."

Inside Mr Smith's office was just like any normal office. I wasn't sure what to expect. Pornography on the walls? Something unusual. This was just like any other office.

"Take a seat, please."

Mr Smith could be a male counterpart of the receptionist. Normal, middle-aged, unremarkable.

"Tell me what you want. I'm sure we can go some way towards meeting your requirements. How far depends on your budget and how long you are prepared to wait."

I wasn't sure how to start. He seemed to sense my unease.

"Let me to try make it easier for you. You have had several of our products. You are here because they didn't meet your needs. What was missing?"

That did make it easier.

"Weight, mass and responsiveness, Mr Smith."

"So you want something that weighs as much as a normal woman and responds to you?"

"Weighs more than a normal woman and not responds but initiates..."

"Ah. Now we are getting somewhere. You want a mistress, a large heavy mistress, who demands things from you? Is that closer?"

"Yes. Can you do that?"

I was getting excited despite myself.

"There are limitations. We do make a standard product that responds to lovemaking. We can give that product the apparent mass of a normal adult female. That is expensive but available. Making a product that requires a response from you is also possible. Making a product that demands that you respond and punishes you if you do not is more difficult. Do you mind if I ask one of my colleagues to explain?"

"No..."

I wasn't sure. It was bad enough having to articulate what I wanted face to face with one person. With two it might be embarrassing.

Mr Smith picked up his phone. He pressed a button.

"Mary? Ask Professor Wald to join us. Thank you."

We sat for a few moments. I almost spoke to break the silence. The door opened and an elderly man entered. He nodded to us and sat down.

Mr Smith spoke.

"Mr Jones..." Was there are slight emphasis on the Jones as if he didn't quite believe it was my name? It is. I had used my credit card to buy the previous products but like Smith, people assume that Jones is a pseudonym for my real name.

"...wants a product that demands a response from him. He wants a large demanding mistress. Can you do that?"

"Ja. That I can do. How large?"

Professor Wald's accent sounded as if he was making a bad attempt at pretending to be German. I smiled and nearly laughed at the incongruity.

"About a foot taller than me?" I asked tentatively.

"And you? How tall you are?"

"Five foot six."

Actually I'm five foot five in bare feet to Elaine's six feet but I can dream, can't I?

"And weigh you?"

"One hundred and twenty pounds."

"So you want woman about six foot six inches tall one hundred seventy pounds weigh?"

I nodded.

"That can do. Demands? What demands she?"

"That I submit. That I am her prey, her victim, her toy for her to use."

It seemed easier explaining to Professor Wald. His odd English made the conversation unreal and less embarrassing. Mr Smith interrupted.

"You know that in reality what ever is made is ultimately controlled by you. You would be topping from the bottom. She would fulfil your fantasies as far as we can construct her but you direct those fantasies. Is that acceptable?"

I thought about it. Ultimately I suppose that is what I wanted. If I was in control yet pretending to submit then I couldn't be betrayed as Elaine had betrayed me. I nodded slowly.

"OK. I think we have enough to give Professor Wald some ideas."

The Professor nodded.

"He will sketch out some designs for your consideration if you could come back say at ten o'clock tomorrow morning?"

I hadn't thought of that. If I left after the appointment I could still be home at a reasonable hour. I shook my head to express my stupidity. Who cared what hour I came home or even if I didn't get home tomorrow at all? I looked at Mr Smith. He looked puzzled presumably by my headshake.

"Sorry," I said. "Yes, I can make it tomorrow at ten o'clock."

"You are aware that this could be expensive? We don't want to waste Professor Wald's time on something you can't afford."

"How expensive?" I asked.

"Could you afford to buy a new small car?"

Ouch! I thought.

"Yes. I could. It would be a struggle but I could pay that much."

"Then you will be relieved to know that the cost will be about a third of the cost of a new car. That acceptable as an estimate?"

"Yes, Mr Smith," I said firmly.

"Then Professor Wald can proceed and we will meet again tomorrow morning."

We all stood up. Professor Wald nodded as we left the office. Mr Smith escorted me to the front door.

I was back the next morning. The receptionist smiled and greeted me as if I was an acquaintance. She produced a cup of coffee without asking.

In Mr Smith's office Professor Wald laid out some sketches for me to consider. The discussion went on for two hours with a coffee break in the middle. I had to decide skin colour, hair shade and type, length of arms, length, shape and span of fingers... The list of options seemed endless.

Mr Smith recorded each decision on a tick sheet before entering it on his computer. I couldn't see the screen.

One thing was essential. I had to have a modern computer with unlimited high-speed broadband access that could be linked to the lady's input port. I made a mental note to move my computer and broadband link to the cellar.

Professor Wald spoke last.

"Part of the making like magic is. Some magic you must do if this lady is to be for you. Where you live near old stone circle is?"

I nodded. There was a megalithic monument about eight miles from home.

"That is good. You must the lady with sand from near this place fill."

He laid out a large-scale map of my area and pointed. I knew it well. It was heathland with a sandy soil. I would need several bags of the sand. I supposed that would be possible.

"And you must earth from stone circle get. That important is. Circle is magic. Not much earth. Two or three pounds. You do can?"

"Yes. I can do that."

I might have to do it at night. The stone circle is a scheduled ancient monument. A few scoops from a molehill should be possible if no one was looking.

"Good. I instructions with product will include. You will follow. I have done."

Professor Wald stood up and extended his hand to me. I stood and shook it.

"You lady will enjoy." he said as he left the room.

I sat down again. This seemed so unreal. Mr Smith felt my incredulity.

"Mr Jones. What the Professor has said may seem like Mumbo Jumbo. Believe me that it is important. We are creating a person for you. You have to participate in the process if she is to become the person you want."

He held up his hands.

"I know you will participate by paying a large sum of money. That is not the point. You have to create as well as us. The Professor's instructions ensure that you will. We could add the sand and earth. It would not be your sand and earth. She would be our product not your desired partner."

I thought I followed the train of thought. Over the next few weeks I would think again and again that the whole process was mad.

One of the last things Mr Smith did before I left the office was to turn his screen round. There was a three dimensional picture of the woman I had specified. Beside her stood a silhouette of a man of my height. I hadn't realised how closely I had based the specification on Elaine. This woman could be Elaine's giant sister.

We added a wardrobe of clothes to the specification. I wouldn't want the woman to be nude in every encounter. The extra cost was a small percentage of the total. I counted to ten before handing over my credit card for a large debit.

That was two months ago. In a couple of days' time she will be delivered. Tentatively I have named her Eleanor pronounced El-lay-en-nor. Soon I can start my part of the creation of Eleanor.

...

Yesterday I received the formal notification of Eleanor's despatch together with her instruction manual. On the cover of the manual was this statement in large bright red type:

'This manual must be read and understood before the product is unpacked. Failure to follow the instructions in the manual will void the manufacturer's guarantee and result in a product unsuitable for the designed purpose. No liability will be accepted for the consequences of your failure to comply with the manual either from your or from your executors.'

I opened the manual. It seemed to have been written by Professor Wald and then transcribed into formal English. It started sensibly enough and then seemed to delve into most un-English and unbusiness-like concepts.

'The successful initiation of the product is the result of a co-operative endeavour between the manufacturers and the customer. Each has a role and both are important to ensure satisfactory operation.'

Then I recognised Professor Wald's contribution:

'What will be created is a female Golem. A Golem is a creature made from clay, earth, or basic matter. She will be animated by the combined efforts of two informed individuals using magical concepts based on the Kabbalah. You are one of those individuals. Your actions determine the success of the efforts.'

'One of the first objects to be found in the delivered package is a fine-mesh sieve painted yellow. This sieve must be used to remove all stones and gravel from the sand you will have acquired as instructed above. It is important that nothing that will not pass easily through the sieve is put into the product otherwise there will be unsatisfactory inconsistencies in the feel of the epidermis. It is our experience that using the sieve reduces the available material by up to 50% so twice as much sand will be required to produce enough sieved material. For your product that means 250 pounds of raw material.'