Barbie World

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A chance encounter blooms into something quite different.
6.1k words
4.18
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Part 4 of the 4 part series

Updated 06/11/2023
Created 12/17/2022
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18 months ago, in Anna's bedroom.

Is it morning yet?

I roll over and pick up my phone from its charging pad, and the screen lights.

3:06am

Fuck.

I've been checking the time every 10-15 minutes for the last four hours. I just want to go to sleep. Why can't it be morning? Every night, it's the same. I try to have good sleep routines: no caffeine after midday, no screens after 10, and being in bed for 11. I roll around trying to get to sleep until the sun's about to come up, then I fall asleep.

Fuck my life.

I tried sending an email to Mum and Dad for advice but they were useless. I think Dad sent me the same stuff I'd already googled; Mum just replied with "that's great advice".

I could try to rub one out but I think if I do that, I'll end up with callouses on my clit. I don't think that would help now. My head's running in a loop of "You're shit. Everyone else is shit. The world's shit." Sometimes I swap "shit" for some other word that means the same thing. Sometimes, I'll focus on why this or that is so terrible, just for a change.

I decide to drag myself out of bed. One of the articles said that can help. It's almost a shame to leave my plush sheets behind; I love Egyptian cotton. I click on a light on my bedside; it stings my eyes.

I meander across my bedroom to the corridor out into the main living area, as I step onto the cool, glossy tiles, I enjoy the sharp jolt to my senses as my feet adjust from the deep pile carpet in the corridor and my room. To my left, the floor-to-ceiling windows open up a panoramic view over the city, twinkling in the darkness. Almost all the apartments facing me are dark but I still don't need to turn on the lights to navigate, the city's glow lights the lounge and dining area, and I head into the kitchen. I pour a glass of tepid water and sip.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Everyone wants to know me and I don't want to know anyone. Random people tell me I'm "fucking hot" but the whole world is made of hideous arseholes.

Fucking Matt. He was kinda hot and kinda nice so I dated him. What a mistake. What a total arsehole. What kind of disaster am I to turn him gay? I've got to think about something else. I can't lose another night's sleep wondering what else I could have done to satisfy him.

I grab the remote and turn on the TV. The wall jumps to life as the 75" screen turns night into day. It jumps to Vogue TV - another re-run of Givenchy, Spring Collection 2012. They were doing that nose ring thing...

The girls look so fierce strutting down the runway. They're so beautiful, almost ethereal. I could never look like that. Maybe if I got a breast reduction and lengthened my legs... I'd still fuck it up. They'd say my face is wonky or something.

This girl's amazing. I could stare at her for hours, just sashaying up and down the runway. She's thin as a rail but not emaciated, like some of them - fit and fierce. There's even a hint of tits under her pale dress.

I habitually reach down to my groin. Before I even get there I realize I'm wasting my time. I'm as cold and dry as... I don't know. I don't think anything has ever been this barren.

Now I'm wide awake, kinda horny, and miserable. There's nothing else to do but hit the gym to tire me out enough that I pass out and can ignore this shit for a few hours. At least I won't have to deal with people at this time of the morning.

I pull on gym gear from the drawer (Lulemon - they make a great sports bra for me). The only runway that had tits half as big as mine was Victoria's Secret but the Angels were taller and prettier.

I check my reflection in the mirror. I'm a wreck, I can't go out like this, even if no one's around. Dad would disown me, and Mum might actually die of a heart attack. "You never get a second chance to make a first impression..." I can hear them now, somehow harmonizing their disappointment across three continents.

I take a minute to apply some basic makeup and brush my hair back into a ponytail. I look less like an 18-year-old failing at university and life. I know the truth, though.

I grab my towel, water bottle, and keys; head to the gym downstairs.

* * *

The gym is dark when I arrive, sensors coax life into the lights as I open the door, and air conditioning whirs into motion somewhere.

I start going through the motions of my warm-up. I try to focus on each of the movements but squats just aren't that interesting.

I keep coming back to the model sashaying down the runway... She was beautiful, no doubt. I don't know if I'd like to meet her... I think I could fuck her. She might play at being a dominatrix and force me to pleasure her and her friends. She would be like Matt and fuck me a few times and decide she prefers dick... Maybe she could just stand in the corner and look pretty. Maybe one of the random arseholes who tells me I'm "fucking hot" could pay me to hang around... At least I'd have a job and I'd get something out of them staring at me. Mum and Dad would be disappointed - it's not why they "paid for a tertiary education at one of the finest universities in the country..."

Warm-up done, I drag the elliptical machine under the air conditioning vent, in the middle of the room. I swipe my card through the machine and pick from the programs I've got. I choose "cruel". I made it for times like this when I want my body's screams to drown out the ones in my head.

The program kicks off and it's all I can do to keep up. I can feel my feet shifting on the platforms as they whizz around, I have to carefully shuffle back into place while the machine's flying around me. My breaths are already short and there are another 29 minutes to go, I push harder... The heat from my warm-up starts to give way to burning, spreading down from my butt and my shoulders, and my lungs start feeling ragged. I descend into trying to keep up with the machine's demands, even as my body refuses to obey me. Pain roars through my body and mind, and all I can focus on is satisfying the machine's cruelty... 10 minutes to go.

"Do you have long to go?"

I look around to find the interloper. Our eyes meet and I know she can see into the depths of my soul. She's sublime. She's impatient but she has all the time in the world. She's without makeup and her hair's a mess and she looks more beautiful for it. I feel my foot slip forward, badly; then the other goes backward and I grab the handles to avoid falling. The machine wrenches one, then the other, handle from me. The handles hit me, I get bashed by the steps, and I get thrown onto the floor.

"Are you OK?"

I can't tell if I'm OK. I pull my face up off the scratchy carpet tiles and turn toward the voice. I can see the toes of some runners (Nike, worn); then cheap white socks. I start to roll slowly over onto my back. I can see two shins, waxed. Knees, lean thighs to match the rest of the legs - hard as steel, as smooth as butter. Proper running shorts, in some team colors I don't know. Rippling, washboard abs disappear under a tight crop top (2XU, black) covering two of the most perfect breasts I've ever seen - definitely there but not enough to ruin an outfit, very firm. I can just make out her nipples through the thick fabric. Arms and shoulders frame her chest with more lean, taut muscles. She's as if Leonardo Da Vinci sketched a study of the perfect woman's musculature and then wrapped a person in it.

"Can you hear me?"

She looks down at me from her towering height, at once concerned and indifferent. Her face is... transcendent. She rolled out of bed and into the gym and her beauty mocks every effort I've ever made. Maybe she's a sports model? Would I recognize her? Her face is geometrically perfect, skin clear and vital, grey-brown eyes as big as dinner plates and staring right through me. Her full lips are pursed in concern but I just want to kiss them.

"errrr..." is all that I can say. What do you say to a goddess?

"Is that a 'yes'?"

"yes, god..." I catch myself, late.

"So you can hear me! Otherwise? That was a pretty good fall."

"I..." I don't know how to form words. I start to push myself up off the ground where I've sprawled.

Goddess reaches down and lifts me up with one hand. She strains to lift me, her compact muscles flex, power rippling across her body, betraying her effort. I desperately want to fuck her. I want to indulge her every pleasure. I want to shower her with gifts. I want to build ornate temples in her honor so that other mortals can experience a fraction of this moment.

"What's your name?" Goddess requests of me.

"Er... Anna."

"Zoe. Barbie suits you better; I'll call you Barbie." She's so confident... It's like there was never any other name I could be called. The last time someone called me 'Barbie', or anything like it, they were instantly dead to me. Now, I'm Barbie.

"Are you sure you didn't hit your head on something?"

"I'm fine," I guess. I can't even feel my body.

"Sit down here, on the weights bench," Zoe says, as she leads me the few steps. I sit down. I'd relax more if I could get a read on her. It's like trying to understand the emotions of a billiard ball.

"Take a minute Barbie, drink some water. I'll put this away"

Zoe turns to shift the elliptical machine back into its place while I shamelessly undress her with my eyes. Her whole body is long and lean and hard. She's so graceful and so powerful... I've got some feeling back in my body again; mostly, it's a hot, damp feeling between my legs. Zoe's body twists and strains as she moves the huge machine and I drink in every fluid movement, every curve, and every ripple of her muscles under her flawless skin.

I feel my hands start to wander of their own accord, and I grab the bench I'm sitting on, lest they find their own destination. A fantasy pops unbidden into my head, of being tied naked to a bench while Zoe selects from a range of intimidating strap-ons, to fuck me with.

Once Zoe's parked the machine, she turns and surveys me. Her face is inscrutable.

"Apart from your leg, are there any other big bumps?"

I want to say "my tits" but I'm too shy. I settle for finding the bump on my leg, it only takes a second. My right shin is quickly developing a huge lump over the bone, picking up some new colors as it goes.

As soon as I see it, the pain hits me. It's intense. Tears come to my eyes immediately. I feel nauseous. I shut my eyes against the pain. I bite down on the urge to scream. I can hear my teeth squeak as my jaw clenches down on them.

The shock of the pain passes eventually and I can open my eyes. Zoe's fixed in place, watching me.

"Well, that was weird... Do you need help getting back to your apartment? This morning's workout is over, for you."

"I'll be OK. I just need to rest a minute." I'm going to struggle to get back to my apartment and I haven't figured out how to get her to come with me.

"Well, I need the bench..."

"I'll spot for you!" blurts out of my mouth.

"Thanks, but it's not that kind of session. I don't mind if you hang out on the bike, though. I don't need that."

Zoe gives me a hand, hobbling over to the bike and getting into the saddle. She's very sweet, she doesn't even stare at me much. She's gentle and patient, as I hobble across the room.

Zoe smashes out an intense weight session. She works hard, punishingly hard. Her body glistens all over with sweat. Zoe's amazing. She's just done the impossible and she treats it like any other day at the gym. I want to lick the sweat off her body. I want to give her every pleasure that can exist. I want her to use my naked body as a footstool.

We chat between sets. It turns out that we're at the same university but at opposite ends. I'm failing and she's winning awards. She's on a sports scholarship and my parents are paying the full rate. She shares a bed with her mother and one of my parents visits every few months.

I find an opening "I couldn't sleep, is that why you're at the gym at 4am?"

"I ran out of hours in the day. It's either now or never," Zoe says. I think about my busy schedule of procrastinating about school and catching up with influencers on my phone... I might sneak in a break to flick through back issues of Vogue...

I don't have any courage left to ask why she shares a bed with her mother.

We talk about exercising (she's an elite runner, and I just like to keep in shape), and the people in the building (we agree, they're all assholes), and this season's trends - she's interested and wants to know "Could I get away with wearing that?" she makes me laugh - she can wear anything. I want to tell her that she'll never get work as a fashion model because she'll upstage the clothes.

Zoe laughs at something I've said... I don't know what. I wish I knew so I could make her laugh again. Her laugh is easy and infectious. I laugh with her but I don't know why.

Eventually, Zoe moves into a cool down and I just sit and watch and chat about school. I can't ask her about any relationship she might be in. My leg is throbbing with pain. I don't want this to end... What do people do after gym sessions? I used to know, I must have done it thousands of times!

"A protein shake!" I shout into the silent room.

Zoe's startled and looks up from her stretches.

"Would you like one, in my apartment? We can get some breakfast, too." I manage, at a more normal volume.

"Sure, that's very kind of you. Fair warning, I eat a lot."

My goddess smiles at me. For a moment, I'm not in pain.

* * *

Today, Anna's Apartment

The social's algorithms are leaving me cold, today. The muted TV is showing a re-run of some "behind the scenes" show that was big news, last year. I'm so bored that I might even do some schoolwork.

There's a noise at the front door and my heart skips a beat.

Zoe bursts in through the door, in tears. She must have had a fight with her mother.

"Oh no! What's wrong? What did you fight about?" I ask as I rush over to her. I instantly regret my choice of words. The last time Zoe was this upset, June had flipped out and thrown her across the room, twice. I wrap her in my arms and hold her tight. Standing in my wedges (some Zara cheapies), she can lean her head on my shoulder, which is suddenly wet with her tears.

Zoe manages to squeeze out between sobs "Mum was doing her stupid thing with Mike..."

"Did she lose her shit, again?" anger rising in my voice, muscles tensing through my shoulders and arms.

"No, no... It wasn't like that..." Zoe continues. Defending June seems to have focused her on not crying as much. We both relax a bit. I like June and Mike but if Zoe wants something to happen to them, they're both going to die. I'm shocked that I still feel like that. I thought some of the intensity had come out of my feelings for Zoe. Apparently, not.

I hug Zoe tightly, this time more scared of what I'd do for her. I feel guilty taking advantage of this situation, to feel her hard body rippling under my touch. It's all I can do not to grab her ass.

Zoe hugs me back. She's very upset. I hope holding her helps her feel better. I wonder if June and Mike fantasize about me the same way I do about them. I guess Mike doesn't dream about jamming his cock down my throat... Maybe he likes a change? Does June have fantasies about me? Maybe. Zoe says her mum used to be in a relationship with a woman and Zoe's stories about June and Mike sent me down the kink rabbit hole... Maybe June does dream of tying me down and dripping hot wax on my naked body...

"What was it that upset you, Zoe?" I ask, at last. I lead her over to the nearby lounge and sit down. She sits next to me, still holding my hand.

"Mum got dressed up like me and did a bullshit impression of me. Mike was playing along"

"It doesn't sound that bad"

"She was groping her tit and masturbating at the same time..."

By the standards of Zoe's home, this is weird. Zoe's told me all kinds of horror stories about when she grew up so this isn't bad but it is weird.

"... that wasn't the problem, though," Zoe continues. I start mentally retreating to a place in my mind that looks like a psychiatrist's office - where I can remain calm in the face of horror.

"... she said I take advantage of you..."

A new horror appears, they were talking about me! Fuck!

"... she said... lots of things" Zoe trails off, sobbing.

I'm staying in my shrink's office and I'm not coming out. If we talk about me serving Zoe, then we'll talk about why, then we'll talk about how I worship her, then she'll know I'm a freak, and never talk to me again...

"Barbie, are you OK?" Zoe asks, quietly.

I realize I've been staring at the kitchen bench for some time.

"Uh... I'm OK!" I lie. I've got to run. I can't have this conversation.

"I guess you're staying for dinner... I need to get some food, now." I say. I move as fast as 4-inch wedges will let me, and head straight out the door. Zoe seems to abandon something she was saying, as the door closes behind me.

* * *

I pick up some milk and some instant noodles in the 7-Eleven while I try to calm down. Zoe's going to know something's not right; she'll be there when I get back. I can't hide anything from her. Outrageous lies run through my mind, one after another, all of them useless. I can't imagine what I'll say to her. I keep moving.

Where did we leave it? She said they were talking about me... I freaked out and ran away... Maybe, it wasn't as bad as I think. Maybe, June was just telling Zoe to say thanks once in a while... That would be nice but it's a weird way to ask. I know Zoe values what I do for her and that's not why I help - I just like spending time with her, and I like doing things for her.

I'm still nervous when I open the door to my apartment and find Zoe sitting on one of the bar stools in front of the kitchen, scanning her phone. I unload my meager haul from the 7-Eleven.

Zoe comes around the kitchen island, to me. "Barbie, why did you run away? What's wrong?" Zoe asks, in a somber, serious tone. I wish I had more food to put away... I could put off this conversation a bit longer... Zoe's between me and the door. I can't get away.

"I... We needed some more food for dinner..." I think it's the least convincing thing I've ever said to anyone.

"That's bullshit. There's heaps of food and even if there wasn't, you'd just order delivery. What's going on?"

I freeze. I can't tell her. She'll know I'm a freak and she'll hate me. I can't tell her lies and I can't tell her the truth. I can't say anything. My mouth opens and closes while I try to find words to put in it. I want to chew my fingernails or take up smoking... I grab a glass and fill it with water and start drinking it... Zoe's still waiting...

"Barbie. Tell me what's going on, now!" Zoe orders, her patience spent. The order runs through me like electricity. I can feel myself blushing, my nipples hardening, my cunt dripping... I can't disappoint my goddess. I can feel tears welling in my eyes when I realize what I have to do. I can't look at Zoe, I just stare at my toes.

"I love you," I mumble.

Words start tumbling out of me, now. "I know you don't feel the same, it's OK. I love you; I love to serve you; you're a goddess and I'm such a loser, I'm so sorry," sobs start and tears flow down my cheeks, and my eyes close. This is the end.

Zoe's gentle hand cups my jaw and lifts my face to look her in the eye. Tears well in her eyes; my heart breaks. I did this to her. She's sad to see me leave but it's not going to work out... I've ruined my only friendship.

Zoe leans forward and gingerly kisses my lips. "I love you, too," she says, quietly.

Suddenly, I feel like a marionette that's had its strings cut. I collapse to my knees. I rest my forehead on my goddess' waist, clutching her slender, powerful thighs for support. I'm trembling all over. I have no idea how to respond. I hardly dared to dream that she would favor me with her friendship but this is beyond me.

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