Lucinda: The “Cute Teen” Sex Doll That Arrived in a Box (And Yes, I Opened It)

A Box.

Just a Box.

There’s something bleakly funny about waiting four weeks for a package you can’t talk about. When the Lucinda sex doll finally showed up at my door—after those three weeks of mysterious “processing” and then another week of tracking numbers that might as well have been lottery tickets—I was greeted by the most aggressively nondescript box I’ve ever seen. Absolute sex dolls promise discreet packaging and, wow, they mean it. No logos, no clues, not even an accidental smudge to hint at what’s inside. My neighbor probably thought it was a new vacuum cleaner or maybe some kind of obscure fitness equipment.

Silicone Perfection?

Sort Of.

Lucinda is marketed as an E-cup silicone sex doll—5 feet 4 inches tall (that’s 162 cm for anyone who prefers metric), with proportions that sound like someone read too many comic books: 32-inch bust, 22.5-inch waist, 38-inch hips. She weighs in at 74 lbs (34 kg), which is… heavier than you think when you’re dragging her out of a cardboard coffin with sweaty hands and low expectations.

The steel skeleton thing? Real enough. Joints move with this weird resistance that makes me picture robot arms from old sci-fi movies—functional but just slightly off from human movement. It’s both impressive and faintly unsettling.

The Details Nobody Warns You About

Here’s the part where people usually get clinical: vaginal depth (7.1 inches), anal (6.7 inches), oral (5.1 inches). If you’re reading this for measurements—there they are, plain as day—but let me tell you, staring at these stats on the website feels abstract until you're sitting next to Lucinda on your bed trying not to make eye contact with her blank stare while wondering if you should've invested in more sheets.

Also: she looks young but not childlike (the site hammers home that she’s 18+). Still, there’s something about the “school girl” aesthetic that made me roll my eyes so hard I almost sprained something.

The Fit and Finish

Let’s talk material because no one ever does honestly—the silicone is soft-ish but still cold when you first touch it; it doesn’t magically warm up unless your apartment is already uncomfortably hot or you invest in those heating inserts absolute sex dolls sometimes upsell (“for realism”). Her skin has this powdery finish straight out of the box—a little dusting so she doesn’t get sticky—which means your sheets will look like someone spilled flour if you’re not careful.

Oh, and moving her around? Not graceful work. Seventy-four pounds distributed across limbs that flop unless positioned just right—it turns into an awkward dance every time I try to sit her upright or get her dressed in anything fancier than gym shorts.

An Unexpected Tangent About Delivery Times

I kept thinking the hardest part would be hiding her from friends or family—not true; it was waiting nearly a month for delivery while getting increasingly paranoid about every knock on my door being someone asking questions about “a large item.” Absolute sex dolls’ estimate was dead-on though: three weeks processing plus one shipping equals four long weeks spent imagining worst-case scenarios involving lost packages or customs agents with too many questions.

Weirdly enough, when she finally arrived all that anticipation fizzled into something like mild relief mixed with… embarrassment? Maybe that's just me projecting onto an object designed to never judge anyone for anything ever.

Is There Anything Subtle About This?

You’d think after all this—the secrecy, the specs lists longer than some dating profiles—I’d have some grand realization about loneliness or modern intimacy or whatever buzzword people throw around these days. But honestly? Sometimes a product is exactly what it says—a big silicone school girl-shaped thing delivered discreetly to your doorstep by absolute sex dolls logistics elves who don’t care what’s inside either.

I guess there’s comfort in bluntness sometimes—even if everything else feels vaguely surreal and mildly annoying.

Anyway—she's here now, taking up space in my closet whenever company comes over. And yes... still just called "Lucinda" on paper but probably deserves a better name by now.