My Living Doll

There isn't a man I know that doesn't think I'm the luckiest man in the world. The reason is my wife, Barbie. It's absolutely amazing but she's the walking, talking personification of the number one selling doll of all time - Barbie.

Barbie is exactly like her doll namesake in that she is an absolutely gorgeous blond who personifies every man's fantasy of the ideal woman. She's tall, elegant, with a creamy complexion, an almost constant smile, and deep violet blue eyes that would put Elizabeth Taylor to shame. She even has the same proportional measurements as the Barbie doll: 5 feet 9 inches tall, 110 pounds, with a 36 inch chest, 22 inch waist, and 33 inch hips. Even her body mass index is 17, like Barbie's. Her body looks like it was sculpted by Michelangelo instead of Mattel.

Heads turn whenever she walks by, both men's and women's, and the pop-eyed stares are nonstop. We can't go anywhere without someone whispering as we pass and the effect she has on the weaker men is comical to say the least. I once saw a man do a double-take gawking at her and walk into a lamp post. And the number of scowling women elbowing their husbands in the ribs telling them to come back down to earth is also an everyday occurrence. The effect she has on people is both amazing and comical.

And the amazing things she can do in bed would take volumes to describe. So I should feel blessed to turn over in the middle of the night and put my arm over the most stunning woman in the world, but I don't. You see I have a problem. Barbie may be a knockout but she's also a chronic cheater. It's not like she's an evil person she's just weak. And she's not the sharpest knife in the drawer either.

Me, I'm closer in looks to Star Wars' Jabba the Hutt. But what I lack in looks, I more than make up for in smarts. My IQ is so far off the chart it's immeasurable. I got my first PhD in the same four years that everybody else got their Bachelor's degree. After that I got two more. Now I'm working on my Juris Doctor, my first law degree. I may have an overabundance of intelligence but the most remarkable thing about me is that I don't seem to have any moral boundaries. Most people call what I'm missing ethics or scruples or conscience but I like to think of them as handicaps. Without them anything, and I do mean anything, is possible. I'm not hamstrung with worrying that one or the other business deal I'm working on will put a hundred people out of work. I'm also not concerned that someone getting in my way might just end up in a dumpster. As long as it makes money for the man I work for, so be it. Oh, and the man I work for prefers it that way too. He also prefers to remain anonymous in all business dealings. He sets a goal, provides the resources, and gets out of the way while I make his dream a reality. As of today I haven't failed him on anything. A lot of what I've done wasn't exactly legal mind you, but my employer remains happy and that makes me happy, and also very rich.

I think that's one of the reasons why Barbie loves me, or says she does, because I have more money than I could ever spend in two lifetimes. And like I've heard said about the real Barbie doll, "The bitch has everything."

Everybody in my world knows that I absolutely adore my wife. My love for her is absolute and I couldn't imagine life without her. I dote on her and shower her with anything she wants. She has her own personal jewelry consultant at Tiffany's. We've gone on lavish vacations all over the world and have spent time in palaces and on secluded islands. I've even been known to buy an entire truck load of stuff just so she could have that one item she's always wanted. Everybody also knows that she is 100% off limits to anybody and everybody. I don't mind the occasional dance or two but when some pussy-hound comes sniffing around Barbie my hackles go up and they go down.

But I can't be there all the time and occasionally the pussy-hounds have succeeded in getting between her long exquisite legs. I think I've found out about each one but there are just too many moths out there attracted to her flame. And the one thing they all have in common -- they're all stupid as hell and now they're all dead as hell.

I don't want to put a harness on Barbie, it would break her spirit and I love her too much to do that. I could never put cameras in every room of the house to watch her 24-7, or inject some sort of a GPS tracker bug in her to know where she is at all times, or tattoo across her forehead "OFF LIMITS." We're together most of the time anyway but the times we're apart, usually because I have to be away on business, I just have to trust her. It's all the other men in the world I don't trust. And the few times she's been unfaithful to me I've handled decisively, once and for all, finally.

Like I said, Barbie isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. Oh, she's lovable and kind hearted and well meaning but she just isn't aware of things going on around her. For example, there was a good looking middle-aged man building a new house down the street from ours and was always sitting in his Mercedes watching the workers work. He saw Barbie and started talking to her and hanging around while I was out doing what I do and before you know it he had invited himself to go swimming in our pool. Of course Barbie went swimming with him and if you've ever seen Barbie in her tiny red bikini, let me tell you it would make your tongue hard. Before I got home that evening mister middle-aged asshole had enjoyed my wife's ample charms. How do I know? We have a nosey maid and she saw them, in her words, "doing the nasty out on the lounge furniture that I now have to clean up." I think she was more concerned that she had to clean up his mess than Barbie's infidelity. I had a little talk with him a few days later and he gave me a wise-ass smirk as he made some crack about my manhood. I just smiled back at him and bid him a good day. Two days later he had an unfortunate accident while sitting in his car watching his house being built. It seems that a load of paving stones 'accidentally' fell off the loader as it was being hoisted overhead and crushed him and his shitty little car into a two-foot tall pile of scrap metal. A month later I bought the uncompleted house from his widow at a rock bottom price. Barbie never knew anything about his unfortunate accident and he never came over for a swim, or a little of my wife ever again.

And that's how I handled Barbie's other indiscretions -- Terminally, finally.

Over drinks one evening one of my so called friends asked me if it wasn't cheaper and wiser to get rid of one cheating wife rather than a whole host of her lovers. I told him that I couldn't get rid of one rose just because its thorn pricked my finger when I touched it to smell it. I loved her, not because she was the epitome of beauty but because of the innocent woman-child she was. I could never lift a finger against her. And while I was saying all this I noticed a slight look of contempt on his face. It took two months but I finally found out that my so called friend had enjoyed Barbie in our bed one weekend I was away on business. He too suffered an unfortunate and quite fatal boating accident.

But the more I thought about what he said the more it gnawed at me. Barbie was incapable of understanding her marriage vows and every man, and maybe every woman too who wanted her could have her. She loved me but compartmentalized 'us' in a different cubbyhole from the people she slept with. I had to find a way to get her to understand the hurt it caused me every time I had to settle up with somebody she fucked.

My first thought was psychotherapy. I found a therapist who owed me a favor and filled him in on the situation. He agreed to start sessions with her and discuss the rights and wrongs of what she was doing and how it affected our marriage. But before they started I took a few minutes to casually explain to him what I would do if I caught him and Barbie together sexually. I think he heard me because he was totally professional as he met with Barbie two times a week. After six months he quit saying she couldn't understand what she was doing that was wrong, no matter what approach he tried. Okay, I tried psychotherapy and it failed. Now I had to do it my own way.

I found an opportunity about three months later when our maid complained to me again about some man's mess on the new quilt on our bed. I resolved to get Barbie to stop once and for all so I went out of town on business again, or so I told her. Sure enough some Adonis looking blond haired young man drove up in a nice red Corvette while I was sitting in my car down the street working on my laptop. I only had to wait 20 minutes for the moving van to show up and after it parked in the driveway behind the Corvette I went inside to surprise my beautiful wife. And I did surprise her big time.

When I walked into our bedroom I saw my naked wife spread eagle, face down on the bed with Mr. Adonis on her back pounding away in her ass. He was so into what he was doing that he never saw me approach with the baseball bat. He noticed when I cracked him across the kidneys one time though. And so did Barbie. He flew off the bed and ran out the door leaving his clothes behind as I swung that Louisville Slugger at his head, and missed. Barbie ran for the bathroom and locked the door. She didn't come out while I was there. I went outside after blondie and passed the men in the moving van just as they were closing the doors and locking things up. The Corvette was gone and so was Mr. Adonis. We all smiled and went our separate ways.

I was gone a week. I never called Barbie and she never called me. She knew she was in a world of trouble and I just let her stew in her own misery. When I came back she just watched me as I went about my evening routine and got myself a drink. I sat at the side of the pool dangling my feet in the water and waited. I knew she would be out eventually to see what I was going to do, so I just sat and drank and waited. Sure enough, an hour later she came out wearing her tiny red bikini with a tumbler of her own. She didn't say anything; she just sat on the edge of the pool quietly and waited for me to explode. I never explode.

"Barbie, I'm going to give you two choices," I said with a calm, cool demeanor. "The first one is for you to leave this house tonight and in the morning I'll file for divorce. I can guarantee you that you will get nothing but what you brought with you when we got married, our pre-nup will see to that, and since I have great lawyers you can take that to the bank. Your second choice is to stop screwing every person in the world, except me of course, and continue to be my wife. You don't understand how much hurt you're causing when you fuck other men; not only to me but to those other guys. You've hurt a lot of people and it's got to stop, now."

She dropped her lovely legs in the water and looked at me. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't think I was hurting anybody. We were just having a little fun, that's all. They were all so nice to me and flattering to me all the time that I just wanted to be nice back. I guess I got carried away a few times. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

I shook my head and let out a heavy sigh. "Barbie, I don't believe you can stop on your own. Your shrink couldn't get you to understand that what you were doing was wrong and I don't think my simple words can convince you either. You are just incapable of understanding. If you weren't here with me, married to me, then you would probably be in some whorehouse on your back from morning to night making everybody in the world happy and having "a little fun" as you call it. No, you need something to force you to stop and I've got just the thing."

We both sat in silence waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Barbie, come with me," I said getting up.

We went into the library and I told her to sit in the chair in front of my large computer monitor. I put a flash drive in my laptop and got ready.

"Barbie, I want you to see a little video of what will happen should you ever fuck anyone else ever again. This is what happened to your last boyfriend..."

"Ken?"

After an incredulous pause I said, "Oh Barbie, you're kidding me. Ken? His name was Ken?"

"Yeah, Ken's my personal trainer."

"But, KEN?"

"Yeah, why? He's a nice guy."

"Oh Barbie, you are a piece of work. Anyway watch my little video." I got up and locked the door and pressed start on my laptop.

The scene on the monitor was of an automobile recycling yard where a red Corvette sat on a platform as men stood all around laughing and pointing. After a few seconds a blond head popped up from inside the little car and looked around. His eyes got wide when he saw something that absolutely terrorized him. He struggled to get out but couldn't do anything to open the doors. As he moved and struggled a second platform descended from above and stopped at the top of the car. It paused for a second as Ken looked up realizing what was going on. It moved down again and the top collapsed downward as the pillars buckled and the glass shattered. Ken's head disappeared underneath the caved in top and a scream rang out. The top platform continued downward and the doors buckled outward, yet the screaming continued. When the car was half its original size the screaming stopped, but the top platform continued to squeeze. The platform stopped and the little red Corvette was 12 inches tall. The men who stood around watching gave each other high-fives and rolled on the ground laughing as the lump of red metal slid off the platform into a pile of scrap of other old cars.

The video ended with Barbie staring at the screen wide eyed and amazed. Neither of us said a word for the longest time.

"Ken was in that car," Barbie said with all innocence.

"Yes, he was Barbie, and you put him there. Every man you've ever fucked since we been married has met a similar fate. Either they had a boating accident or were run over by a hit and run driver or accidentally fell out of a 20-story building. Every man you've ever fucked out of wedlock has met some terrible accident. I've seen to it. Ken is just the latest. This is what happens to your boyfriends. They all die."

She looked at me with a most puzzled expression. "But... I don't understand. You said every man. But your brother is still alive. He was over for our barbecue just last week."

"My brother, Barbie? My God, you fucked Robert too?"

"Well, it was a long time ago, the week after we got back from our honeymoon and you had to go to Montreal for a couple days. He said he was just welcoming me to the family. He was nice to me. I like your brother."

"Shit! Now I've..."

"You aren't going to hurt Robert are you?" She asked with her eyes wide as saucers.

"I can't let him get away with that just because he's family. I'll..."

"No, don't hurt him." Barbie pleaded. "He's nice. Maybe you can do something else, something where he won't end up like Ken. Maybe Janice. Maybe you can do something to Janice. He loves his wife and if you did something to her then it would hurt him too. Just don't let either of them end up like Ken, please? Something else."

I looked down at her as she sat there balled up in her chair. "Is there anyone else I don't know about?" I growled.

"I don't know of any," she said hanging her head.

"Barbie, now that you know what happens you've got to ask yourself one question. When do I stop disposing of your boyfriends and decide to dispose of you. Someone I know suggested it would be easier to get rid of one cheating wife rather than dozens of your boyfriends. At some point I might consider that. Right now I still love you and want you to be my wife, but don't push me. If you ever do anything like that again I will seriously consider it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

I took the little flash drive out of the laptop and dropped it on the floor. I stomped it as flat as the little red Corvette and dumped it in the trash can.

Barbie and I walked back out to the pool without saying a word. Her face was sad and there were new thoughts bouncing around inside her head. I could see it. She was trying to figure out something, something important. I could only hope she was giving some serious thought to my promise to dispose of her the next time. We picked up our drinks and dunked our feet back into the pool. We sat there drinking and thinking, the only sounds were the crickets in the Azalea bushes.

"I've been thinking," Barbie said breaking the silence. I knew that the next words out of her mouth would concern our future, her fate, and what I had promised. Our marriage hung in the balance, her life too.

"Is this what they mean when they say that I fucked somebody to death?"