Wil Andruschak

So, what’s it like to be a blow-up doll?

It’s not easy, you know, getting poked and prodded all night, sometimes all-day long. It might not be so bad, but you should see the loser who “loves” me.

Who is your “sex mate”?

Some asshole who squeezes and pinches too hard. I mean, take a look at my boobs. Do they look normal and perky to you? They weren’t always like this, you know.

Do you ever get off, I mean, have an orgasm?

Are you kidding? It’s all about him, him, him. Sometimes, his girlfriend gets ahold of me and she knows how to treat me reeeeal good.

Does the dude know about this, that his woman takes you out for a spin?

No way! He would get real mad; he seems like the jealous type — not like the guy before him. Now, he knows how to treat his plastic.

The guy before him? You mean, you weren’t a virgin when this guy plucked you?

Hell no! I’m on my third, at this point. The first guy got me off of the shelves. I would say that he was a real blowhard, because it took him three, maybe four, sessions to finally get off.

What happened to him?

He got a real girl, got tired of me, then sold me at his garage sale to the one who was reeeeal good to me, handled me reeeeeal gentle-like and didn’t stuff me in a closet like most do. But after much loooove-makin’ I got a hole — well, a fourth one — and when I was no longer firm, he tossed me in his garbage.

What happened after that?

The garbage collectors came along and when they saw me, they were mean — blew me up as much as they could, then made me a mascot, kind of, tying me to the back of the truck, with me flopping and flailing in the wind. Then, one day, shortly before Christmas, one of them took me home, got drunk and had his way with me.

So, now what? Where do you see yourself in five years?

Five years! That’s like 50 in doll-land. I just take it one day at a time, for now. I’m hoping he’ll get bored with me, wrap me up and put me under the next guy’s tree.