Japanese Sex Dolls

That's right, Japanese sex dolls. And only moments after I removed the adult content warning.

Back when I was living in Tokyo, one of my friend's (not me) decided it would be a good idea to go searching for a high-end sex doll showroom that he'd found (for one reason or another) on the Internet. As it happened, the showroom was only a few stops from where we lived, so one afternoon after lessons about five of us all hopped on the Yamanote Line and made our way to Okachimachi.

The shop itself was up a set of stairs in a small unassuming building, that almost appeared to be a residency rather than a retail outlet. It was so well hidden in fact that we almost left having no luck finding it, but thankfully intrigue won the day and after a bit more searching we recognised the company logo from the web page.

You have to understand that groups of white males in their early twenties are usually perceived as a potential case for trouble in most parts of Tokyo, so I was anxious as to how we would be received on going in. The thought had also crossed my mind that we were entering a fucking sex doll shop, which was hardly the best of ideas.

Regardless we pushed through the door, only to be greeted by the bizarre sight of multiple fake women sat on couches and stood around in a variety of poses. The room was incredibly well presented, made up to look like a front room with a variety of chairs, it was softly lit and surprisingly welcoming - not the dingy back street seedy porn dungeon I expected (read: hoped) it would be.

The shopkeeper came out from the back area following a chime from the door. At first he seemed quite flustered, explaining that usually you have to phone thirty minutes in advance in order to get an appointment. Luckily he was fairly pleasant and said we could have a look around for twenty minutes or so, but then we'd have to vacate for the next customer.

So we looked around, we were allowed to touch and prod and poke, and the shopkeeper seemed pleased to answer questions - which I provided a constant stream of, so as to keep up the appearance that we were potential customers and not just some kids from abroad come to giggle at the breasts. As far as I can remember all the models there were clothed, what was unsettling was that some of them appeared to be of children, or at least of younger than legal age.

I asked the shopkeeper what ages the models ranged from, to which he replied there was no age, simply small, medium and large - a clever yet disturbing work-around. As I continued in my most polite Japanese to ask questions and provide input/lie about what we were doing there, the shopkeeper told me he would show me something and walked off behind the counter area.

When he came back he was brandishing what appeared to be a long fleshy tube. On further inspection, one end had what appeared to be labia moulded on to it, he explained it was one of the removable vaginas used with the models (dishwasher friendly kids!). He assured me it was highly realistic, and decided I should feel for myself - I was not so sure. He emptied a sachet of lubricant into the bodiless vagina, and proceeded to push his fingers in - goo oozing from between the lips and dribbling down the sides.

At this point everyone had gathered round to see what was happening, and as the polite gentleman held out his vagina for me to feel I took a glance at the faces of those stood near me. Each one held the exact same expression - wide eyed with panicked features that read 'don't do it man'. I turned to look at the prosthetic gaping hole in front of me, the man reassured me: 'go ahead and feel, but don't use the real thing' he said as he motioned to his groin (I think it was a joke).

So there I was confronted by a rubber vagina, five pairs of eyes telling me it was a bad idea, and my conscience telling me if I didn't stick my fingers in, I was basically telling this man that I disrespected his business.

I took a deep breath and plunged a reluctant finger into the flesh slot.

'Wow, it does feel real' I remarked, the man smiling with appreciation.

I took my fingers out and looked to my audience, and do you know what? Every single one then went and stuck their fingers in. Yep, everybody had a feel, it was all hands on deck at the vagina party, Annabel Chong hadn't seen that much action.

Afterwards we thanked the man for showing us around and putting up with us poking around his store, took a bunch of photos (none of which I have to hand, but if I can get in touch with one of the guys who was there, I'll try and upload one) and were on our way.

It was a truly bizarre experience, the odd combination of a product that was incredibly taboo, but in an environment that was stupidly professional. As far as shops go, it was one of the nicest, most well presented stores I've been in. That said, there aren't many places I've been to since that allow you to stick you fingers in a vagina. Well, none that don't chase you out afterwards anyway.