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Gloria can feel the ends of Barbie’s (styled, perfect) hair brushing her face, creating a little nook of sweet smelling lavender and clean linen. For an insane second, Gloria thinks that she can smell synthetic fibers instead. But then Barbie’s real, warm hand gently touches her cheek and she’s grounded in the moment again. Barbie is behind her, Gloria’s head in her lap, kneading at her upper body: her breasts, her cheeks, her shoulders. It’s almost too much, just that. But Ken, newly reformed, with ideas and thoughts and love just his own, is between her legs, mouthing sloppily. The combination of the two is setting her nerves alight like bulbs shattering from intense wattage. And it’s reawakening parts of her she thought would lay dormant forever after settling down and becoming a mom.
But Barbieland has changed her for the better, she thinks, revitalizing the excitement, the adventure, the passion inside of her that has been tamped down with years and years of monotonous work and responsibilities. Barbie can be anything, and so Gloria can be anything, and what she wants most right now is to be Barbie’s, the same way Barbie was hers growing up. Well not the exact same way. But she wants Barbie to want her, just like she’s always wanted Barbie—how she would save up money to buy a new Barbie, aching and anticipating with each new penny earned, trying to be patient and failing. If Barbie’s always been there for her, she wants to be there for Barbie , finally. And if Barbie wants her to give her body over, for tenderness and love and long nights spent in each other’s arms, then she feels no hesitation. Maybe, when she played with Barbie as a kid, there was something more to it when she opened the Barbie’s legs and jammed another Barbie between them. Maybe not. But what she knows now is this: Barbie is real, Barbie is here, and Barbie is whispering how pretty she looks, all prone and open on the bed.
She can’t help gasping when Ken’s nose bumps against her clit, as he moves away from sucking a bruise into her inner thigh. Barbie’s hand grabs her hair then, pulling.
“Look at him,” Barbie whispers, almost conspiratorially. “Look how wrecked he looks, look at how desperate he gets, just from eating you out. He loves it”.
Ken nods, his mouth hanging open like a dogs, panting.
“I love it.” He pauses, wobbling on his knees. “Can I-? Barbie, B-Barbie, please?”
Barbie giggles a little bit, snorting slightly, a new trait she picked up somewhere along the way with her humanity. She has an air of playfulness about her, and a smug glint in her eye. Gloria can picture it, and does, and then she pictures Barbie pinching her nipple and calling her a naughty girl for getting distracted.
Instead Barbie runs her hand through Gloria’s hair, which has become frazzled and messy with everything.
“Do you think he deserves to, Gloria?”
Gloria thinks for a second. She almost enjoys making Ken wait as his face gets redder and his pupils get wider.
Barbie’s smirk drops off and she becomes serious, her voice coming out low.
“Should we let Ken put his cock—that useless, plastic thing, not even better than any dildo—in you? Do you want to make him feel good, babe? He wants you so bad, he’s been asking me and begging to see you like this, my perfect, beautiful doll, in bed, all spread out and mine .”
Gloria can’t breathe, and she’s looking into Barbie’s eyes upside down and she feels like a beached whale—tricked into coming closer and closer to shore, pulled in by the current. And now she’s gasping and writhing and she wants it so bad. Everything Barbie wants, everything Barbie says. Barbie could tell her anything and she would do it, she knows.
“Yes,” She manages, reaching to entwine her fingers with Barbie’s. “Yes, I want it, I-I, I…want to feel him inside me, please .”
Barbie nods then, pleased, turning her eyes away from Gloria to Ken.
“OK.” she says. “Start slow, don’t move until I tell you. If you come or fuck up in any way, it’s over. Done. You’re here for Gloria, not yourself, slut. You don’t come until Gloria does, got it?”
“Yes, yes, yes ,” Ken chants, trying to situate himself above Gloria, lilting to either side like a drunk man. He can barely grab his dick, he’s shaking so bad.
“Gloria doesn’t like waiting, mount her like the dog you are, get it together .”
At this, Gloria feels the head push up against her slick entrance, which had been delicately unfurled hours before by Barbie’s long, thin fingers slowly, slowly, slowly, pushing and pressing deep inside her. Barbie seemed to know every spot inside her and had kept her wet and wanting until Ken had come and put his mouth on her, too.
“Stop,” Barbie says, when the head pops inside.
Ken looked like he was about to shake apart, his eyes suddenly filling with tears. Gloria thought that Barbie took pity on Ken at this, as she leaned over and gave him a quick peck.
“You’re doing so good,” Barbie says, “Keep being good for me.”
Ken nods, overcome.
The sound of palm meeting skin rings out, Ken’s head whipping to the side.
“Words, slut.”
“I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, I can, I can-” He blabbers.
Gloria is glad Barbie isn’t talking to her then, because she doesn’t think she can think of anything other than Barbie’s hands, her voice, and the way she keeps tensing over and over on Ken’s cock. She moans, instead.
She thinks Barbie nods again because she can feel Ken start pushing inside. He’s big, bigger than other things she’s taken, toys and such. And isn’t that funny? Up until a month ago she believed Ken was just that—a toy. Now him, and his very real cock, were pounding into her meticulously, almost calculated to hit her spot with every thrust. He was doing a very good job of being good, she thought and wanted to tell Barbie so, let her know how good her idea was, how perfect her fucktoy was. She liked Ken, but he was no Barbie and never would be. She could never be with just Ken. Only Barbie made her feel like this. Only Barbie made her feel out of her mind, desperate for more. Only Barbie could hit every spot, say every perfect word, could be as dazzlingly pretty as she was and still look at Gloria (Gloria!) like she was some perfect doll. Gloria wanted to whimper and cry.
“That’s right, only me,” Barbie says, her voice almost hoarse. “You’re my perfect baby, that’s right. I love you so much, so much. Can you come for me, my perfect angel girl? My love? You make me so hot, watching you let Ken fuck you. Are you going to come for us now?”
Barbie presses her lips to whatever she can reach, quickly, and then pulls back still open-mouthed. Finally, she starts looking a little disheveled.
“Do it, baby, I want to see you. It’s all I want, you’re so hot, so beautiful, my lovely doll, everything I could ever want.”
Gloria can’t understand how she got so lucky, that Barbie wants her over anyone else, that Barbie is getting off on simply seeing her get off. She wants to see Barbie like this forever, almost animal-crazed with lust, begging her to come.
And because she will do anything for Barbie—walk to the end of the world, take down the patriarchy, save her from business executives— she does. It’s as simple as breathing to do what Barbie says and yet infinitely more powerful, like an explosion, like oil popping in a pan on the hot stove.
A moment later she feels Ken coming inside her, and then, soon after, she supposes, feels him pulling out and slumping over.
Barbie is pulling her upward, gently, hugging her.
“You’re my favorite doll to play with,” She says, gently, almost jokingly. “I want to play with you forever.”
“Yeah,” Gloria hums, thinking that forever is a long time, but knowing that, even though it wasn’t like this, she’s always had Barbie by her side. She can do forever, too. She wants it. It’s her desire and she’s owning it completely. Just like she owned Barbie. Just like Barbie now owns her.
“Forever,” She agrees, spent and content, wrapped up in pink femininity and Barbie’s love.