Blowhemian Rhapsody by Lauren Toscano
The love of my life cost two payments of $29.99.
Her name was Bonk Me Bessie. She had blonde synthetic hair that smelled like burnt plastic, inflatable vinyl tits, and big red lips the color of a nosebleed. One of her painted blue eyes was wide open, the other closed in a sexy wink. She wore a lice-infested slip I’d purchased at Goodwill. To anyone else, she looked like a deranged blow-up doll, but to me I saw beauty. I saw a long, happy life with Bessie by my side. Sharing ice cream cones. Going on bike rides. Making out in the back of the movie theater, my fingers inching up her plastic, Silly Putty-colored thigh.
Bessie came into my life two weeks ago. I’d stayed up late one night, watching the M-rated cartoon channel, when an ad came on featuring a skinny woman with huge breasts. “Are you tired of being a lonely virgin?” she asked. “Do you want to meet that…” she paused to bite her lip “…special someone?” Five girls walked on the screen behind the original girl, each one blonde, tanned, and thin. They all giggled. “Now for only two payments of twenty-nine ninety-nine you can have your very own [bleep] buddy.” She flashed a bleach-coated smile. “Just dial 1-800-BL0W-M3.” Frantically, I dialed the number on my phone and purchased my new beau, using my dead grandfather’s credit card. Bessie was expected to arrive in three to five business days.
My grandmother intercepted the package before I did, but she didn’t open it. She kept prodding me, begging to know what I had ordered. I lied and said it was supplies for an art project and started crying and Grandma, you never support my art, you hate me. But the dumb bitch totally bought it, so I ran upstairs, home free.
In my room, I slit open the box. My hands were shaking. I could hardly contain my excitement. I was sixteen years old and a virgin, and these days it was feeling like I was the only sixteen year old virgin out there. All the jocks were screwing their girlfriends, the Future Lawyers of America had awkward sex at the stupid law conventions in hotel rooms, and even Sandy Cornell, VP of the V-Club, fucked her boyfriend every night in the back of his truck. And then there was me. Max Rutgers, grade-A virgin.
But not anymore.
I pulled out a folded up, flesh-colored…thing. I unrolled it, and there was the love of my life. Flat as a pancake, but lovely nonetheless. I uncapped the hole on her foot and started blowing air into it. As I watched her plastic breasts perk up, I remembered what the stupid douche-y jock Kevin had said last week during English. “Max, the only thing that will ever touch your dick is your right hand.” This was not at all accurate considering a) I am left-handed and b) Right in front of me was a woman completely willing to give herself to me. I watched her head, her arms, and her legs inflate.
When I was done, I propped her up on my unmade bed, so it sort of looked like she was sitting. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, but I managed to as I went in my closet and grabbed the lab coat I’d stolen from chemistry class. I slipped it on over my polo shirt and rubbed my eyes.
“Hello,” I said to Bessie, walking over towards the bed. “I’m Dr. Rutgers, and I’ll be examining you today.”
Oh Doctor! I imagined Bessie cooing, not being able to contain her excitement. I felt myself reddening.
“Let’s just take a look here…” I spread her plastic, blown-up legs apart. There were little pores around her crotch. The directions told me that if I watered them daily, I could expect to see little hairs grow in. The Up and Cumming Blow Up Doll company had teamed up with Chia Pets.
I tried to finish the Doctor/Patient scenario, but there were only so many medical terms I knew, so instead I started having sex with her.
“Please,” I said, gasping. “C-Call me Max.”
I couldn’t fathom the fact that right then on March 11th, 2001, I, Max Rutgers, lost my virginity to possibly the hottest woman who had ever tumbled into this small town in Maine. Hotter than Rachel Coleson, who had moved here from Indiana in fourth grade and wooed everyone with her Midwestern spunk.
My hands were slick with sweat, so it was hard to position her the right way. She kept slipping, and I had to readjust and enter her again. I stared at her eyes, watching her wink at me. I kissed her gently.
Max… I love you.
“I love you too, Bessie,” I promised her, running my index finger down her face then sticking it between her lips.
I was so entranced by Bessie and her beauty that I didn’t hear my grandmother coming up the stairs, and I certainly didn’t hear her twist the knob to the door I’d forgotten to lock. So she stood there and saw me in my lab coat, really going to town on the blow-up doll I’d gotten off the internet with her dead husband’s money.
“Max!” she yelled, breaking me from Bessie’s spell. Then she fell backwards onto the ‘80s pink carpet, hitting it with a soft thump!
“Fuck!” I tried to run toward her, but Bessie was still attached to my dick. I tried prying her off of me, but she was stuck. “Shit!” To the best of my ability, I bent down next to my grandmother, shaking her and begging her to wake up, but she laid there, stiff and cold. I called 911.
As I waited for them to arrive, I attempted to pull Bessie off of me to no avail. I kept shoving her face away, but it only bounced back, hitting my glasses. I could hear her giggling, which only turned me on more, but there was no time for that considering my unconscious grandma was lying at my feet, knocked out cold. The only option seemed to be to cut Bessie off with a pair of scissors, but the thought of mutilating my poor Bessie made me sick.
I could hear the sirens outside my house, thick with panic. The doorbell rang, and I walked toward the door, full of shame. Maybe they won’t notice. Maybe. I pushed the deflating Bessie out of my face as I op/ened the door to reveal a mustached EMT worker. I started stuttering, trying to explain what the hell was going on and why I had a blow up doll on my dick, but the EMT worker didn’t look amused.
He cleared his throat. “Is that a Bonk Me Bessie?”