That Moment When Curiosity Wins
I don’t know what I expected, honestly. You see a listing for something like the Coco Fashion Intern Sex Doll and part of your brain just… wants to click away, but another part (the tired one that’s been doomscrolling all night) thinks, “Wait, maybe this is the kind of weird story I need right now.” And then you’re on page 8 of Google reading about life size silicone sex dolls at 2AM. Whoops.
The Platinum Silicone Thing
There’s this whole world of doll collectors and—well, let’s call them “enthusiasts”—who get really into materials. Platinum silicone is apparently the gold standard (ironic?). It feels softer than TPE but holds up better over time. Touching it is less uncanny than you’d guess. Not skin exactly, but not plastic either. I remember thinking it was almost too real in some spots and then oddly rubbery in others—a strange contrast that kind of messes with your head if you think about it too long.
The Numbers Game: Height, Weight, Proportions
Right, details. Because people want numbers before they buy anything these days—even if it’s an 83-pound fashion intern who doesn’t talk back or eat your leftovers.
- Height: 5’4” (164 cm). Not short-short, not tall-tall.
- Bust: 34.1 inches
- Waist: 20.3 inches (that’s tiny)
- Hips: 34.6 inches
- Under bust… well, you get the idea.
- She weighs more than my dog.
The thing about moving her around? It isn’t nothing—you’ll feel it in your back if you’re not careful.
Holes & Depths — Yeah, We’re Going There
Apparently people care a lot about this stuff (I mean… why wouldn’t they?). Vaginal depth clocks in at 6.3 inches; anal at 5.9 inches. These are oddly specific numbers that make me wonder who measured and how many times they checked their work before sending it off to marketing.
Anyway—both options are there if you care about variety or just want to know everything before making a decision no one will ever ask you about at dinner parties.
Joints That Actually Move
Steel skeleton inside with movable joints means she won’t flop around like those cheap mannequins from high school drama class—there’s actual resistance when you pose her arms or legs or whatever else needs adjusting for reasons best left unspoken here.
Sometimes the stiffness is a plus; sometimes it’s a little unsettling how human-like things become when joints start acting like real elbows and knees and such.
Shipping: Discreet But Not Fast
Here’s where reality sets in again—the shipping takes longer than most online orders (think three to four weeks total). Processing eats up two or three weeks by itself because apparently making a platinum silicone sex doll isn’t as easy as baking brownies.
At least nobody will know what’s inside when the box arrives; packaging is plain and unlabeled so neighbors won’t raise eyebrows unless they see you struggling to carry an oversized mystery package through your door at noon on a Tuesday.
An Odd Realization About “Young” Looks
There’s something slightly off-putting about how many listings use words like “teen,” “young,” etc., even though every model—including Coco—is clearly marked as being over eighteen years old (just… barely?). Maybe that says more about buyers than sellers; maybe both sides pretend not to notice because plausible deniability makes everyone sleep better at night.
Still—it lingers in the back of my mind every time I scroll past phrases like big boobs or big breasts attached to dolls described as interns or students or whatever else sounds innocent until it doesn’t anymore.
Why Anyone Buys This Stuff Anyway?
I can only speak for myself—I didn’t buy Coco out of loneliness exactly; curiosity played its part too. There was something almost clinical about unboxing her—like setting up new tech gear except with way more awkward moments and heavier lifting involved.
I've looked at dozens of high-quality silicone sex dolls over the years, and each one has its own strengths and quirks worth knowing about.
Does she look real? Yeah, sometimes disturbingly so from certain angles under bad lighting late at night when shadows play tricks on tired eyes. Other times she looks fake enough to snap me out of whatever daydream got me here in the first place—and suddenly I’m just standing next to an expensive hunk of platinum silicone wondering whether anyone else has had this exact moment before me.
Weirdly enough, that thought made me laugh harder than expected—and then I put her away for a while because even tired bloggers need breaks from existential questions now and then.
