Jacob walks quickly along the sunlit sidewalk with both hands in the pockets of his oversized black hoodie. His shaggy brown hair limits his peripheral vision, and his gaze is low, tracking the other pedestrians around him by their legs and feet. He gives ample space to passerby and shares the sidewalk with a courteous, but silent and avoidant manner. In his right pocket, he grips a slip of paper.
When he arrives at his destination, he pushes through the door with his shoulder and makes his way into the short lineup leading to the front desk. He pulls his phone from his pocket as he waits. Tapping and scrolling, he never lifts his head despite flowing patiently with the queue.
Minutes later, at the front of the line, Jacob is greeted by a middle-aged woman.
"Hi there. How can I help you?"
He smiles politely, briefly makes eye contact, and hands her the package slip from his pocket.
"Oh, I'm sorry. It's not here yet." She points at some text on the paper. "You see, it says here that your package will be available after 1pm today."
"Oh. Okay," says Jacob as he turns to leave.
"Shouldn't be long," she assures him.
Sitting on a shaded park bench nearby, Jacob kills time again on his phone. For months, he's been learning Japanese with the help of a language app. The octopus mascot with the monocle always amuses him. He flicks his head habitually to move hair out of the way when a glint of light catches his eye.
It came from a bronze statue in the centre of the parkette. As he only ever comes to this part of town to pick up the odd package at the post office, Jacob had never noticed it before.
The subject is a young woman. She stands barefoot in a silky dress holding a wide, shallow bowl in front of her. It functions as a bird bath, and a small, light brown sparrow flits about in the water. The woman's hair is tied in a long braid that hangs over her shoulder, and she looks down lovingly at the miniature scene before her.
Jacob is similarly transfixed. Her bronze form glows warmly under the midday sun, and she inhabits the green space, serene and peaceful, like a woodland fairy. He squints to admire the smoothness of her skin, the flowing weightlessness of her dress, and the quiet majesty of her form.
When a mother crosses between them, dragging a screaming child, the spell is broken. Jacob returns to his phone and checks the time.
Back at the post office, Jacob again reaches the front desk and holds out the package slip a second time.
"Welcome back," says the service clerk, scanning the barcode on the paper. "Can I see your ID?"
He complies.
"Okay, I'll be right back."
When she emerges from the back room holding an 18-inch box, Jacob's face lights up.
"Here you go, sir," says the woman. "Have a nice day."
"Thanks. You too," says Jacob before turning to leave, still staring down at the package.
Though excited to get home, with the box under his arm, Jacob slows his pace as he passes the parkette to get another look at the bronze statue. There she stands, as before, bathed in sunlight. His eyes drift down to get a look at the shape of her hips peeking from behind the sides of the bowl she holds. Just as his eyes begin to trace those hard curves, he bumps into a man that had stopped to drop his coffee cup into a trash bin.
"Oh! God, sorry. Sorry, I'm sorry," Jacob blurts out. He lowers his head and hurries away.
Walking through his front door, Jacob listens for signs of his roommate. He looks down at the mat by the door to see that Noah's shoes aren't there. He smiles to himself and kicks his own shoes off, then rushes through his bedroom door and closes it behind him. When he locks it, he notes the erection growing in his jeans.
Giddy, Jacob places the package on his bed, cuts the packing tape with his keys, pulls open the flaps, and peers inside.
A pool of packing peanuts fills the box. Jacob carefully wiggles his fingers into it until he can confidently grasp the large PVC figure buried within, and gently pulls it out.
"Yes," he whispers to himself, as he gently removes additional packing materials from the figure, "she's perfect."
He sets the figure on his large computer desk and sits in his leather gaming chair to admire it. She's twelve inches tall with porcelain white skin. Her large eyes and joyful grin fill her thin face, leaving only a small spot for her miniscule and pointed nose. Sky blue hair cascades down from her head, and swirls around her petite body. She wears a tight white blouse and a short, pleated black skirt that blooms behind her as she leans forward in a dynamic pose. The blouse is open at the top, revealing her firm breasts barely supported by a tiny black bra.
Jacob's chair squeaks as he leans back and unzips his pants.
"I've been waiting for you a long time," he speaks softly to the figure. "I can't believe you're finally here."
He pulls his half-hard penis through his fly and starts to stroke himself.
"I'm glad we didn't have to wait before we--" Jacob notices another plastic figure at the end of his desk. It's smaller. A blonde girl.
He releases himself, stands, takes the blonde figure in his hand, and walks a few steps to a large display shelf against the wall. It's full of other such figurines and collectables with varying levels of undress. Jacob places the blonde one in a free space, and hurries back to his seated position in front of his brand new, blue-haired delight.
He turns the figure slightly so that she isn't facing him directly. She has a more playful look from this angle.
"You tease," Jacob thinks while he continues to stroke himself. He imagines her touch, her small, cool fingers running along his inner thighs, tickling their way to his balls. He shivers.
With another turn of the figure, Jacob now has full sight up her short black skirt. Pale pink panties cling to a smooth, hard ass. Tiny painted daisies adorn her underwear, and he appreciates the attention to detail.
Standing, Jacob unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down just below his butt. He squeezes a hot bead of pre-cum from his cock and, with the figure at roughly waist height, he teases her tiny ass crack with the wet tip. He flinches at the cold sensation, and imagines the sound of her soft, high-pitched moan.
Peering down from above into her tight, open blouse, her tits call out to him. They beg for their due. Their gift. He pulls back from the figure, turns it to face him again, and begins to masturbate faster.
As he prepares to climax, he grips his ass cheek hard with his other hand and aligns himself with the figure. She stares forward blankly, without recognition of the purply, swollen cock less than an inch from her tiny, happy face.
Jacob groans. Hot cum pumps from his cock in waves over the figure. She looks on cheerfully as it glazes her hair, her face, and runs down sloppily over her chest, into the hard plastic cleavage and the stiff ripples of her white blouse.
With a sigh, Jacob slumps back into his chair and admires his work. His coated idol looks back at him without any less pleasure on her face and enjoys the warmth of her reward. Jacob continues to stroke himself, savouring the gently fading pleasure of his orgasm.
As he does, his mind wanders back to the statue in the park. She was like something out of a dream. Though he does love his brightly coloured, energetic, and often lewd character figures, that lovely park denizen possessed a decidedly different aura. She was about subtleties and unpretentious elegance. And there was something nostalgic and familiar about her, like vintage porn.
As a glob of cum falls from the figure and plops softly onto the desk, he determines he'll return to her tonight.
It's 11:30pm. Jacob sits on the same park bench, gently lit by a streetlamp. He's been sitting there for thirty minutes already, waiting for foot traffic to die down. As the rate of late-night joggers and dog walkers slows, his heart rate increases in anticipation.
