Chapter Seven

Barbie’s knees ached from the carpet burn as she rocked back and forth between Tyler and Jason, her hollowed cheeks stretched tight around one cock while her hand worked the other in sloppy, desperate strokes. The messy bedroom was the closest thing she had to a home since her mother locked the front door and told her to find her own way in the world. She had been living at the frat house for two weeks now, passed around like a communal stress reliever whenever the boys needed to blow off steam between classes or after a night of drinking.

“Fuck, this sissy knows how to work a shaft,” Tyler grunted from above her, his fingers tangled in her bleached blonde hair to guide her head at the exact pace he demanded. “You’d never know this whore used to be some smart guy, huh?”

Barbie flinched at the words, her stomach twisting with the familiar shame that had become as constant as breathing, but she didn’t pull away or try to correct him. There had been a time, months ago, when she would have insisted she was a girl, that she had always been a girl, that her name was Julia and she deserved respect. That time was gone. Now she just opened her mouth wider and let Jason push back inside, her tongue working automatically against his shaft while her mind retreated to the small corner where it belonged exclusively to her.

The doorbell chimed from downstairs, a cheerful electronic sound that seemed absurd given what was happening in the bedroom above. Down in the living room, one of the frat brothers, Axl, was sprawled on the couch with a controller in his hands, shouting at the television while his character died on screen for the third time in as many minutes. He paused the game with a grunt of annoyance and hauled himself up, shuffling toward the entryway to answer the sudden intrusion.

Barbie kept working, her jaw aching as Tyler thrust deeper into her throat, her hand pumping Jason’s shaft in time with the motion. She could feel Jason’s hips twitching, tasting the pre-cum leaking from Tyler’s tip, and she knew they were both getting close. The thought of having to swallow another load made her feel sick, but she had learned that lesson too, as hesitation earned punishment, and punishment meant being passed to more boys or having to sleep in the doghouse outside instead of the bedroom they allotted her.

Tyler’s grip tightened in her hair, and he started fucking her face in earnest, his hips snapping forward with enough force to make her eyes water.

“Mmmph, glcck,” Barbie choked out, her throat convulsing around his girth, which only made him groan and push deeper.

Jason was thrusting into her hand now, and she knew they were both seconds away from finishing. She closed her eyes and tried to think about nothing, emptying her mind the way she had learned to do when the degradation became too much to bear.

The bedroom door swung open without a knock, and Axl stuck his head in with a lazy grin that suggested he had already forgotten about his video game. He looked at the scene before him, taking in Barbie on her knees between his fraternity brothers with her makeup smeared and her tiny skirt riding up to expose her caged cock, and his grin widened into something lewd and knowing.

“Yo, there’s some dude at the door,” Axl said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Says he’s here for the fucktoy. You guys almost done with her?”

Tyler pulled out of her mouth with a wet smack, allowing the blonde to finally turn her head toward the corridor. She could see exactly who had arrived through the bedroom doorway, and the terrifying sight made her chest tighten.

Derek stood at the top of the stairs, his expensive suit making him look like he belonged in a boardroom rather than a frat house. He was the man who had paid for her breast augmentation surgery two months ago, the debt she had been trying to repay in monthly installments that never seemed to shrink. The bitter taste of pre-cum lingered on her tongue while she kept her hand wrapped around Jason’s shaft. She had been expecting the pimp, knowing he was coming today, but seeing him while she was on her knees servicing college students made her want to crawl into a hole and disappear.

“The fucktoy,” Derek repeated, tasting the words with a smile as he stepped into the bedroom. He looked at her with the bored expression of a man inspecting his property, his gaze traveling from her swollen lips to the mess in her hair. “I like that. Yes, I need her for something. Can you boys give us some space?”

Tyler zipped himself up with a casualness that suggested this interruption was routine, and Jason did the same, tucking his half-hard cock back into his jeans. They filed out of the room with the easy camaraderie of men who shared a cheap slut between them, leaving Barbie alone on her knees with the man to whom she was indebted. She remained where she was, her hands resting on her thighs. The implants were still new enough to ache when she moved wrong, massive globes of fake flesh that pulled at her chest and made her back hurt if she stood for too long.

“Like, hi,” Barbie said, her voice coming out in the high, breathy register that the collar had trained into her, even when the device wasn’t actively shocking her. “I have your money, I totally do. It’s all right here.”

Barbie reached under the mattress where she had stashed the envelope that morning, her fingers trembling as she pulled it out. She had counted the cash three times before the frat boys interrupted her free time, positive she had the exact amount he requested last month. She held it out to Derek with both hands, trying not to think about how many shifts at Hooters it took to save it, and how many degrading hours of being groped and mocked by customers she endured to earn it.

The black man took the envelope and counted the cash with professional efficiency, his lips moving silently as he tallied the bills. His expression didn’t change as he finished, but when he looked up at her, there was something cold and disappointed in his eyes that made her shudder.

“You’re short,” he said simply.

Barbie blinked, sure she had misheard. “Like, what?”

“Five hundred dollars short,” Derek elaborated, fanning the bills in his hand. “This is the same amount you paid last month, Barbie. Did you think the interest wouldn’t go up?”

“But that’s, like, not fair,” she protested, the words escaping before she could stop them, her voice cracking on the last syllable. “Like, five hundred dollars? That’s so big. You promised the price was locked.”

“I said what?” Derek interrupted, his voice still pleasant but carrying a dark edge that made her shrink back against the mattress. “I said a lot of things, Barbie, but I never said the price would stay the same forever. Interest went up. I don’t make the rules.”

He did make the rules. The bimbo knew that undeniable truth even as she opened her mouth to argue, her voice dying in her throat when she saw the look on his face. The debt collector had all the power here, just like he had maintained all the power since the day he bought her tits and decided she owed him until the balance was cleared.

“Like, I don’t have that much,” Barbie whispered, her hands shaking as she reached back under the bed frame. Her fingers found the emergency stash she had been hiding for weeks, five hundred dollars in folded bills that she had managed to save. She held it out to the pimp with both hands, looking at him with a pleading expression. “This is totally everything. I don’t have any more.”

The suited man took the additional money and leafed through the bills, grinning as he verified the exact amount he needed. He looked at the transwoman with something that might have been pity if it hadn’t been so obviously performative, a mockery of sympathy that hurt worse than open cruelty.

“Then I suppose you’ll have to work harder if you want to keep up,” Derek said, turning toward the door. “Unless you want to find out what happens to pretty little sissies who can’t pay their debts. I hear there are places that would pay good money for a desperate cocksucker like you, Barbie. Places where you wouldn’t get to choose who uses you or how. Think about that.”

He left without another word, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that made Barbie slump forward on the carpet. The slut could hear him talking to the frat boys in the hallway, laughing about something, and then the front door opened and closed, and he was gone until the next collection.

Barbie stayed on the floor for a long time, staring at the empty space under the mattress where her savings used to sit, wondering how she was going to survive those payments if Derek kept upping the fee.

❖

“Like, thank you so much for coming in. I hope you had a super good time,” Barbie said, her voice lilting upward in the valley girl cadence that had become her only way of speaking. She stood by the booth at Hooters as the two college-aged men stood up, their eyes lingering on her chest in the way she had grown accustomed to over the past month of wearing the tight orange uniform.

“Thanks, Barbie,” the taller one said, smirking as he dropped a folded bill onto the table. “Keep the change.”

The indebted bimbo waited until they had turned their backs before reaching for the money, her fingers trembling slightly as she unfolded it. A twenty-dollar bill. That meant a one-dollar tip on a nineteen-dollar check.

Those cheap bastards, she thought.

She shoved the cash into the pocket of her tiny orange shorts.

Why did all the cheapskates get sent to this section? How am I going to make next month’s payment at this rate?

The blonde stacked their plates with movements that had become automatic after weeks of repetition, her mind calculating how many more tables she would need to turn if she wanted to make rent and have anything left for Derek. Her feet ached in the white sneakers, and her lower back throbbed from the weight of the implants that pulled her forward no matter how straight she tried to stand.

“Barbie, can I see you in my office?” Mark’s voice came from behind her, and the transwoman felt her stomach tighten.

She turned to see the manager standing with his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed in a way that suggested she wasn’t going to enjoy this conversation.

“Like, sure thing, Mr. Mark,” she said, following him through the kitchen where the cooks whistled at her, past the break room where two other waitresses were smoking, and into the small office.

Mark closed the door behind them and leaned against his desk, looking at her with an expression she had learned to recognize. It was the same look Derek gave her, the same look Enzo gave her. The look of a man who knew she was in trouble and was planning to take advantage of it.

“You’ve been picking up a lot of shifts lately,” the manager said, his voice casual as he picked up a pen and tapped it against his palm. “Double shifts, covering for people, coming in on your days off. That’s a lot of hours for a girl who’s supposed to be in school.”

“Like, I just really love working here,” Barbie lied, forcing her lips into a smile that felt like it might crack her face. “The customers are super nice, and the food is really yummy.”

“Ohh yeah?” Mark gave the blonde a sly grin. “If that’s so, I guess you won’t mind working Section C tomorrow again, will you?”

Barbie groaned before she could stop herself, her shoulders slumping as she looked at him with pleading eyes. “Like, Section C? That’s, like, the third day in a row, Mr. Mark. It’s so super quiet back there, I barely make any money.”

“That’s just how it is,” Mark said, shrugging his shoulders with a casualness that suggested he didn’t care at all about her complaints. “Section assignments are based on performance, and your performance hasn’t been anything special lately.”

The transwoman felt panic rising in her chest. She needed the money so badly. She needed to find some way to make next month’s payment before Derek came back with his new interest rates and his threats about what happened to sissies who couldn’t pay. She couldn’t afford another day in Section C watching tables of cheap college students leave single-dollar tips.

“Like, please, Mr. Mark,” Barbie said, her voice rising into a whine that made her hate herself. “I really need the money. I need to make good tips this week. Can’t you give me Section A or Section B? I’ll work super hard, I promise.”

He set the pen down and stepped closer to her, invading her personal space. He reached out and touched her chin, tilting her face up to look at him with a condescending smile that made her skin crawl.

“You’ve got really pretty lips, Barbie,” he told her, his thumb tracing her fat, glossy lower lip in a way that suggested he had been waiting for this moment. “You know that?”

Barbie’s eyes widened. She had been used almost everywhere, but hoped her workplace would be an escape from the degradation. “Sorry, Sir?”

“You heard me,” the manager replied, his voice dropping to a lower register. “You’ve got pretty lips, and if you want the nice stations, you’re going to have to be nice to me. That’s just how things work around here, Barbie. You understand that, don’t you? You give a little, you get a little.”

The blonde felt tears pricking at her eyes and blinked them back. She understood exactly what he meant. She had seen the other girls do it, had seen them disappear into this office and come out with the best tables, had seen them counting stacks of cash at the end of the night while she scraped by with barely enough to cover her bus ride home. But she had told herself she wouldn’t be one of those girls, not with everything happening at school and home.

“Like, what do you want me to do?” Barbie asked, even though she already knew the answer, her voice cracking on the last word.

His hand moved from her chin to her shoulder, pushing her down gently but firmly. “Get on your knees, Barbie. Show me how much you want those good tables. Show me how nice you can be. It’s just between us, right? Just a little favor between friends.”

The transwoman sank to the floor, the office carpet rough against her knees, and reached for Mark’s belt with her manicured hands. She told herself it was just like with the frat boys, that she needed to do this to survive.

“That’s a good girl,” Mark groaned as she took him into her mouth, his hand resting on the back of her head to guide her at the pace he wanted. “See? You’re a natural at this. Those pretty lips were made for sucking cock, weren’t they?”

The blonde tried to retreat into her mind the way she had learned to do, but he wouldn’t let her. He kept talking, kept praising her, kept guiding her with his hand and his voice until she was aware of every humiliating second.

“Use your tongue,” he instructed, his hips snapping forward to push deeper into her throat. “That’s it, just like that. You’re doing so good, Barbie. You’re going to be my favorite little cocksucker, aren’t you?”

She couldn’t escape the words, nor the reality of what she was doing on her knees in his office. He was everywhere, his voice filling her ears, his hand controlling her movements, his cock filling her mouth.

“Look at me,” Mark commanded, and she forced her eyes open to look up at him. “Keep your eyes open. I want to see those pretty eyes while you suck me off. That’s it. Good girl. You’re so good at this, Barbie. You were born to be on your knees.”

The transwoman felt him tense, and she knew he was close. She tried to pull back, but he held her firm, his hips thrusting faster as he used her mouth.

“Swallow it,” he groaned, finishing in her throat with a shudder that seemed to go through his whole body. “Swallow every drop like a good little whore.”

She did because she knew from experience that spitting earned punishment, and she couldn’t afford to waste this moment on top of everything else. She swallowed around him, her mind screaming with the awareness of what she had just done.

Mark zipped himself up and looked down at her with a satisfied smile, his eyes dropping to her bright pink lips. “Damn, Barbie. Look at that. Your lipstick didn’t even smudge. I just fucked that pretty mouth and your lips look perfect. What kind of makeup is that? You need to tell the other girls your secret, because half of them look like they got face-fucked by a clown when they’re done.”

The blonde felt her cheeks burn with humiliation as she stood. Her makeup was permanent, tattooed onto her face by Enzo’s sister months ago, but she had no intention of expanding her humiliation by revealing that to her boss.

“Like, it’s just really good makeup,” she said, forcing her voice to stay light and breathy. “I, like, totally forgot the brand.”

“You got Section A tonight, Barbie,” Mark said, reaching out to pat her head like she was an obedient pet. “And maybe tomorrow too, if you’re a good girl again. Now get out there and make me some money.”

The transwoman walked out of the office and straight to the bathroom, where she leaned over the sink and stared at herself in the mirror. Her bright pink lips were still glossy and perfect, her makeup unsmudged despite what she had just done. She looked like exactly what she was. A broke bimbo who sold her mouth for better tables. A whore who couldn’t even make enough money to keep up with her debts.

The blonde splashed water on her face and walked back out to the floor, ready to start her shift in Section A, where the drunk men would grope her and the other waitresses would whisper about what she had done to upgrade her section. She picked up her first tray of wings and beer, feeling the eyes of the customers crawling over her body like she was merchandise on display.

She needed to find more money, and she needed to find it fast, before Derek came back and decided that he would choose how she earned her money.

❖

Barbie walked through the school hallway with her eyes fixed on the floor tiles, counting the cracks between them in a nervous habit she couldn’t seem to break. Students had been staring at her for months now, ever since the transformation had begun, but today the energy felt different. The usual whispers seemed louder, cutting through the ambient noise of the hallway with an edge of excitement that made her skin prickle with unease. She passed a group of sophomore girls who erupted into laughter the moment she walked by, even as their eyes raked over her tiny skirt and swollen chest with obvious disapproval.

She kept walking, her fingers twisting in the hem of her skirt as she tried to make herself smaller, less visible, less of a target. A senior boy she didn’t recognize pointed at her as she passed, his phone raised to capture her image, and she felt her cheeks burn with the familiar shame that had become her constant companion. Something was happening. Something she didn’t understand but knew instinctively would be terrible for her. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, each step taking her deeper into a gauntlet of staring eyes and mocking smiles.

She tucked her chin down and quickened her pace. The blonde transwoman knew how to tune out the standard misogynistic insults, but the aura radiating from the student body today made her stomach twist into a tight knot. She felt like she was missing the punchline to a massive joke.

A familiar, arrogant swagger caught her attention. Enzo approached from the opposite end of the corridor, his face lit up with a cheerful grin that signaled impending disaster. He fell into step right beside the bimbo, matching her slow pace while keeping his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his varsity jacket.

“Good morning, Barbie,” Enzo greeted a little too enthusiastically.

“Like, what’s going on?” Barbie asked. “Why is everyone looking at me so weird today? Did you like, do something?”

Enzo turned to her with an expression of mock innocence, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “Me? Why would you think that, Barbie? Haven’t you seen the news?”

“Like, what news?” the blonde asked, confusion evident in her voice. She hadn’t checked her phone since last night, had been too exhausted from the double shift at Hooters to do anything but collapse into bed.

The bully’s grin widened, becoming something predatory and pleased. “Come on, I’ll show you. It’s right over here.”

He guided her down the hallway with his arm already lifting to drape across her shoulders, steering her toward a cluster of students that had gathered around the noticeboard near the main office. The crowd was thick, a mix of seniors and underclassmen all jostling for position, their voices creating a buzz of excitement that Barbie didn’t understand.

“Excuse me, coming through,” Enzo said loudly, and the students parted for him like water, turning to watch with expressions of amusement and anticipation as he led the blonde through the opening he had created.

Barbie’s eyes followed their gazes to the noticeboard, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. There, posted in the center of the board with decorative glitter borders and printed in large bold letters, was the announcement for Prom King and Prom Queen nominations. Her eyes scanned the list of names, and then she saw it.

Barbie Lopez. Her name was printed there in black ink, nominated for Prom Queen.

She shook her head, the motion becoming more frantic as she stared at the letters. She hadn’t wanted this. She hated the popularity contest around Prom Queen. Prom was supposed to be something she attended with Kara, something they would have laughed about later while they prepared for graduation.

Enzo’s arm tightened around her shoulders, pulling her away from the crowd that was watching them with hungry fascination. He led her toward an empty stretch of hallway, his grip firm enough to remind her that she had no choice in where he took her.

“Like, how is this even possible?” Barbie asked, her voice rising into a whine that she hated. “How did I get nominated?”

“I know what you mean,” Enzo said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “You’re clearly a sissy faggot, a boy with fake tits and slutty makeup. You should be disqualified from something like this, but here we are.”

The transwoman winced at his insults. “Like, who would have nominated me? Why would anyone do this?” She already knew the answer, but needed confirmation.

“I did, Barbie,” he admitted, his voice low and intimate. “I nominated you.”

Barbie shook her head. “Like, why? Haven’t you totally done enough?”

Enzo chuckled, a short sound that echoed off the lockers. “Because it’s funny. Because you hate it. And because,” he paused, his grin widening, “you may finally get to deliver that speech you’ve been preparing after all. Remember? The valedictorian speech?”

He stepped back, his eyes traveling over her outfit with obvious amusement. “Imagine standing on that stage in front of everyone, accepting your crown as Prom Queen. Wouldn’t that be something?”

The blonde stared at him, her mind racing with horror at what he was suggesting. She opened her mouth to protest, to beg him to take it back, but the words died in her throat when she saw the look in his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” the jock told her, patting her head in a gesture that was somehow just as humiliating as anything else he had done. “I’ll help you prepare.”

He turned and walked away, leaving Barbie standing alone in the hallway as students passed by, some pointing, some laughing. She leaned against the lockers, her knees weak, her heart racing.

He had humiliated her again.

❖

“Ohhh god, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Barbie moaned, her voice rising into a breathy whine as she bounced harder on the thick dildo mounted to the floor.

She was naked in the center of the frat house living room, her knees planted on either side of the rubber cock as she rode it with desperate, frustrated movements. The blonde’s hand was wrapped around her locked cage, stroking uselessly at the flat metal that denied her any real sensation, while the dildo in her ass pressed against her G-spot with every downward thrust.

“Look at this slut go,” Tyler laughed from the couch, his phone raised to record her degradation. “She’s so desperate to cum she’ll fuck anything.”

“Faster, Barbie,” Jason called from the armchair, his hand down his pants as he watched. “Ride that cock like the whore you are.”

The transwoman’s thighs burned with effort as she bounced faster, her heavy implants swaying with the motion, her fat, bright pink lips parted in panting gasps. She was so close, the pressure building inside her from the prostate stimulation. She tried to stroke herself harder, whimpering at the lack of sensation, the frustration making her movements more frantic.

“Please,” she whined, not sure if she was begging the boys or her own body. “I’m so close, I’m gonna—”

The doorbell cut through her words, a cheerful chime that made her freeze in place, the dildo still buried in her ass, her hand still wrapped around her cage. The four boys groaned in disappointment, exchanging glances as the moment shattered.

“Who the fuck is that?” Tyler asked, lowering his phone with a scowl.

“How the fuck should I know?” Jason said as a grin formed on his lips. He looked over at the bouncing blonde. “Go answer it, slut. There’s no need to get dressed. The whole campus knows who you are by now.” His comment prompted a chuckle from the small group of frat boys surrounding her.

Barbie whimpered, the orgasm receding like a wave pulling back from shore, leaving her aching and unsatisfied. She pulled herself off the dildo with a wet sound that made her cheeks burn, her legs shaking as she stood. She was naked, her cage visible, her arousal obvious in her flushed skin, but she knew better than to argue.

The blonde walked to the door on unsteady legs and pulled it open.

Derek stood on the doorstep in his expensive suit, his eyes immediately dropping to take in her disheveled state, the cage visible between her legs, the dildo scent still on her skin.

“Well, well,” the black man said, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Interrupting something, am I?”

“Like, no, I was just—” Barbie started, her voice cracking.

“Just being a desperate whore,” Derek finished, pushing past her into the frat house without waiting for an invitation. “I can see that. Boys, give us the room.”

Tyler and Jason exchanged glances, but they knew better than to argue with the pimp. They filed out, muttering complaints about ruined entertainment, leaving Barbie alone with her debt collector.

“Like, I totally wasn’t expecting you for another two weeks?” the blonde said. “Is everything okay?”

Derek laughed, a short sound that carried across the room. “Everything is fine, Barbie. In fact, things have changed. I’m going to be collecting every two weeks now instead of monthly. Interest rates went up. That’s just how it is.”

The transwoman shuddered in horror. “Like, what? But you said—”

“I said the terms might change,” Derek interrupted, his voice pleasant but with an edge that made her take a step back. “And they have. So where’s my money?”

Barbie’s hands shook as she realized the impossibility of her situation. “Like, I only have half. I haven’t had time to make enough; I was going to—”

“Half,” Derek repeated, his expression hardening. “You have half of what you owe me, and you think that’s acceptable?”

He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne. “Maybe it’s time for a career change, Barbie. Maybe you should drop out of school and focus on making money with those tits full time. Be a proper good girl for me instead of pretending to be a student.”

“Like, please, no,” Barbie begged, tears pricking at her eyes. “I can’t drop out, I can’t, I’ll find the money, I promise.”

Derek sighed, a sound of exaggerated disappointment. “I’m going to do you a favor, Barbie. Because I’m a generous man, I’ll cut this month’s payment by half if you do something for me.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, pressing it into her trembling hand. “Go to this motel tonight at 9 PM. Room 237. There’s a man waiting who needs company. If I get a good report, I’ll consider your debt reduced.”

Barbie looked at the card, her fingers trembling as she read the address. “What does he, like, want me to do?”

Derek smiled with no warmth in his eyes. “Nothing that you haven’t done a hundred times in this very house, Barbie.”

The transwoman shuddered as she understood his meaning. He was sending her to a stranger, a man who would pay for her body. He was expecting her to sell herself to get out of debt.

“Like, what if I don’t want to?” Barbie whispered, her voice barely audible.

Derek laughed in a way that made the blonde wince. “Then you drop out. I’ll decide your career from now on, and you may not like what I have planned for you. Is that what you want, Barbie? Because that’s where you’re headed if you don’t take this opportunity.”

He turned toward the door, pausing to look back at her with eyes that held no mercy. “He’ll be waiting for you at nine tonight. Don’t make me come looking for you. You won’t like what happens if I have to find you.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Barbie with the business card clutched in her hand. She looked at the dildo still wet on the floor and at the cage locked around her sissy cock. This was the life she had fallen into.

There was no way she was going to be able to raise enough money to pay Derek back. He had changed the terms of their arrangement and had trapped her into a horrific appointment.

The blonde sank onto the couch, her knees weak. She looked at the card again, memorizing the address, knowing she had no choice.

Tonight at nine, she would become exactly what Derek wanted her to be. She’d become exactly what Enzo had been grooming her to become.

❖

The blonde stood in the parking lot of the Starlight Motel, her fingers trembling as she clutched the business card Derek had given her. The neon sign buzzed overhead, casting a pink glow over the cracked asphalt and the row of doors that stretched down the single-story building. Room 237 was at the far end, tucked behind a dumpster that smelled like rotting food.

Barbie had spent an hour getting ready, painting red lipstick over her permanent pink makeup and squeezing into a tiny black dress that showed off her implants. She looked like exactly what she was pretending to be. A whore for hire.

She knocked on the door of Room 237 with knuckles that shook despite her best efforts to control them. The door opened with a creak that revealed a man who made her stomach turn with pity and fear. He was overweight, his shirt stained with sweat under the armpits, his hair thinning and greasy. He looked at her with eyes that darted away immediately, his face flushing red as he stammered something unintelligible.

“Like, hi,” Barbie said, forcing her voice into the breathy register. “I’m Barbie. Derek sent me?”

“Yes, yes, come in,” the man said, stepping aside with an awkward shuffle that revealed his inexperience. “I’m, um, I’m Harold. Can I get you a drink? I have soda, or water, or I could run to the vending machine—”

“Like, that’s okay,” Barbie interrupted, stepping into the room. She just wanted to get this over with. “We don’t have to, like, waste time, do we?”

“Sorry,” Harold stuttered. “I’ve just… I’ve never been with one of your kind before. A- a ladyboy.”

Barbie flinched at the word, her cheeks burning with humiliation. She hated that term, and how it reduced transwomen to some exotic fetish object rather than real people. She forced her face to remain blank, her voice to stay light.

“Like, it’s totally okay,” she said, moving toward the bed with hips that swayed in the practiced motion. “I’m here for you. You don’t have to be nervous.” She really wanted this to end quickly.

“I just thought we could talk first,” Harold said, his voice hesitant. “Get to know each other. I paid for the whole hour, so there’s no rush.”

The transwoman suppressed a groan. She had been hoping for quick and dirty, a transaction she could endure and escape. Instead, she was trapped in a trashy motel room with a man who wanted to pretend they were on a date.

“Like, sure, we can talk,” she stumbled, perching on the edge of the bed with her knees pressed together. “What do you, um, want to talk about?”

Harold sat in the room’s single chair, his hands twisting in his lap. “I don’t really do this. I mean, I’ve never done this. I just, I work in IT, and I don’t really meet people… Why don’t you come sit between my legs while we talk?” The man blushed, as if he was ashamed of the suggestion.

Barbie hesitated, her fingers twisting in the hem of her tiny dress. “Like, between your legs? I mean, I guess that’s okay?”

She slid off the bed and moved toward him, her heels pressing against the thin carpet. The blonde lowered herself to the floor between his spread knees, her back straight, her eyes darting up to his face with uncertainty. She had been fucked and used countless times by now, but she had never been in a situation like this.

“That’s a good girl,” Harold said, his hand reaching out to touch her hair with his trembling fingers. “You’re so pretty. I’ve never been with someone like you. A real-life sissy. Those breasts look huge from up here.”

“Like, thanks,” Barbie stammered, her voice coming out higher than she intended. “Do you, um, want me to do something? I mean, should I—”

“Take it out,” Harold commanded, his voice dropping into a lower register that made her blink. The nervousness was still there, but underneath it, something hungrier had emerged. “Take my cock out and show me what those pretty red lips can do.”

Barbie reached for his belt with her shaking hands, fumbling with the buckle in her nervousness. “Like, okay, I can do that,” she mumbled, her fingers slipping on the metal clasp.

“You’re taking too long, sissy bimbo,” Harold snapped, his patience evaporating as he shoved her hands aside and unzipped himself. “Use your mouth. Now.”

Barbie leaned forward with her red lips parted, uncertainty flickering across her face as she took him into her mouth. He was already hard, already leaking pre-cum, and she felt her stomach turn as she worked her tongue against his shaft.

“Fuck,” Harold groaned, his hand tightening in her hair to guide her movements. “That’s it. Just like that. Use your tongue, you stupid whore.”

The blonde was taken aback by the man’s sudden shift in demeanor. He had seemed so unsure and nervous a few moments ago, and now he was calling her a ‘stupid whore.’ She gagged around him, her eyes watering as he pushed deeper into her throat. She tried to pull back, but his grip was firm, his hips snapping upward to meet her face with a force that belied his soft appearance.

“Don’t stop,” he commanded, his voice thick with a cruelty that seemed to come from nowhere. “I paid for this. I paid for your mouth. Make it worth my money.”

Barbie worked her tongue against his shaft, her hands cupping his balls tenderly. She was aware of every second, every humiliating moment, as she stared up at the chubby stranger.

Harold pulled her off his cock. He looked down at her with eyes that had changed; the nervousness burned away to reveal something darker underneath. “Get on the bed,” he ordered. “Hike that slutty dress up and get on your hands and knees.”

Barbie hesitated, her voice coming out in a stammer as she climbed onto the mattress. “Like, are you sure? I mean, do you have a condom? I don’t know if we should—”

“I said get on the bed,” Harold snarled, his hand smacking her ass with a force that made her cry out. “Don’t tell me no. You don’t get to tell me no. You’re a fucking whore, aren’t you? I’m getting what I paid for.”

The transwoman positioned herself on her hands and knees, her dress hiked up around her waist to expose her caged cock and her ass. She was shaking, her cheek burning from where he had slapped her, her mind racing with uncertainty about what was happening to her.

“That’s a good little ladyboy,” Harold groaned, climbing onto the bed behind her. “Look at you, presenting yourself like a bitch in heat. You want this, don’t you? You want me to fuck you raw?”

“Like, please,” Barbie whimpered, not sure what she was begging for. “Please, just—”

“Just shut up,” Harold interrupted, pushing into her with a force that made her scream into the pillow. “Take it. Take every inch, you stupid sissy whore.”

He pounded into her with increasing pressure, his hands gripping her hips, his body slapping against hers in a rhythm that made the headboard bang against the wall. The blonde bit her lip to keep from crying out, her mind overwhelmed by the sensation and the degradation.

“Tell me you love it,” Harold commanded, his hand wrapping around her throat to pull her head back. “Tell me you love being fucked by a real man. Beg for my cum, whore.”

“Like, please,” Barbie stammered. “It’s too big… too ha-mmphh!”

Her cries were cut off by a bright red ball being wedged between her teeth. Barbie’s eyes widened in surprise as she tried to wedge the ball out of her mouth with her tongue, but the stranger buckled the straps tight behind her head as he fucked her to ensure she couldn’t remove it. The blonde was gagged.

“Shut up, sissy,” the man said, pounding against her ass as he reached across and flicked Barbie’s flat cage. “So pathetic, aren’t you?”

Barbie could only make muffled sounds around the gag as he continued to use her, her drool leaking down her chin and onto the pillow beneath her. She felt completely helpless, unable to speak or protest, reduced to nothing but a hole for this stranger to fuck.

“That’s better,” Harold groaned, his pace becoming erratic as he neared his climax. “Just a dumb gagged whore taking my cock. You love this, don’t you? You fucking love being treated like trash.”

The blonde squeezed her eyes shut, her body rocking forward with each thrust, her mind retreating to the only place it could go. She thought about nothing. She felt nothing. She was nothing.

Harold pulled out with a grunt and flipped her over, pushing the gag further against her tongue to demonstrate his dominance. “Look at me,” he commanded, positioning himself over her face. “I want to see your eyes when I cover you.”

Barbie forced her eyes open, staring up at him with a mixture of fear and resignation. She tried to make a sound around the gag, a protest that came out as “Mmmph, nngh—” but he ignored her, his hand working his cock as he aimed at her face.

“Take it,” Harold groaned, finishing in thick ropes across her cheeks and forehead and chin. The hot cum dripped down onto her red-painted lips, and all over the black dress that contained the big breasts that put her in this situation. He kept stroking, milking every drop onto her degradation.

“Don’t move,” Harold commanded, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. “I want a picture of this.”

Barbie whimpered around the ball gag, her shaking hands reaching up to try to shield her face, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the mattress with his knee. “Mmmph! Nnngh!” she protested, her voice muffled and desperate.

“Shut up,” he snapped, snapping several photos with the flash illuminating her humiliation.

He finally set the phone down and reached behind her head to unbuckle the gag, pulling it free. Her jaw ached, and she could taste her own drool mixed with the remnants of his cum.

“Now get up and clean yourself off,” Harold ordered, zipping his pants with a casualness that suggested he did this every day. Nothing like the nervous IT guy he appeared to be when they met. “You look disgusting.”

The transwoman stumbled to the bathroom, her reflection in the mirror showing exactly what she had become. Her red lipstick was smeared, showing the bright pink beneath, and her face was covered in a stranger’s cum. She wiped herself with a soft towel, her mind reeling back to what she’d just done.

When she emerged, Harold was dressed and counting out cash on the nightstand. He held it out to her with a smile that had returned to its nervous, awkward shape, as if the cruel dominant had been a mask he could put on and remove at will.

“Tell Derek I was very satisfied,” he said, pressing the money into her hand. “I might want to book you again.”

Barbie took the cash without meeting his eyes, shoving it into her cleavage. She walked out of the motel room into the night air, her heels clicking against the asphalt as she made her way back toward the frat house.

She had done it. She had sold herself to a stranger and let him use her body in ways that made her want to scrub her skin raw. She needed to file those thoughts away. She had Derek’s money, and she was safe from his control, for now.

❖

Barbie trudged along the sidewalk toward school, her fingers adjusting the hem of the pink plaid miniskirt that rode up her thighs with every step. She had paired it with a white crop top that barely contained her implants, the words “Daddy’s Girl” printed across her chest in sparkly letters. The outfit had been Enzo’s choice, delivered to the frat house that morning.

She had lost track of how long she had been living like this. Days blurred into nights at the frat house, each one bringing new humiliations, new men, new ways to degrade herself in exchange for a roof over her head. The motel with Harold had been a one-time thing, a favor for Derek to cut her payment in half, but the memory of it haunted her. She couldn’t do this anymore. She had decided this morning that she was going to drop out of school today. She would find some way to survive, some way to disappear.

A black van pulled up beside her, the window rolling down to reveal Enzo’s grinning face.

“Good morning, Barbie,” Enzo called out. “Need a ride?”

“Like, no thanks,” Barbie said, forcing her voice to stay light. “I’m good walking.”

“Get in,” Enzo said, his tone shifting to commanding. “We need to talk about your campaign.”

The transwoman felt her chest tighten. “Like, what campaign? I don’t want a campaign.”

The jock laughed. “Your prom queen campaign, silly. I’m finishing it up today, and I need your help. I’ve got everything planned out.”

“Like, no,” Barbie said, her voice rising. “I don’t want any of this.”

Enzo rolled his eyes, leaning out the window with a teasing smirk. “Tough luck, princess. You don’t get a choice. You’re running whether you like it or not. I’ve already planned out your outfit.”

Barbie stopped walking, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. She turned to face him, her voice cracking as she spoke. “Like, you don’t understand. I’m done with all of it. I’m dropping out of school today. I can’t do this anymore.”

The words hung in the air between them. Enzo’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face. He paused, the wheels turning in his head, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel as he processed what she had said.

Then he grinned, a slow spreading of his lips that made her want to run.

“You’re dropping out?” the jock repeated with amusement. “That’s adorable, Barbie. Really. But you know what? I think destroying Kara’s academic career would be an even better way to get back at her for how she treated you last time. Don’t you think?”

Barbie blinked, confusion flickering across her face. “Like, what do you mean? What are you talking about?”

“I mean,” Enzo said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “that I have concrete proof you helped Kara cheat on a few of her tests. Text messages, video, everything. It’s all right here on the passenger seat, just waiting for me to send to the principal.”

He patted the leather seat beside him, his grin widening as he watched the color drain from her face. “I bet they have a uniform her size at the diner where Melissa is working. Don’t you think? She could use a coworker.”

“Like, don’t!” Barbie gasped, her shaking hands reaching toward the van window. “Please, don’t do that to her. She didn’t do anything wrong; it was me, I was the one who—”

“Who helped her cheat,” the bully finished, his eyes locked on hers. “Exactly. And now you get to decide. You get in this van and help me with your campaign, or I press send, and Kara’s college dreams go up in smoke. Poof. Just like yours did.”

“Like, please,” Barbie whispered, her eyes widening as the threat hung in her mind. “Please don’t…”

Enzo’s grin became something almost tender, a mockery of sympathy. “It’s nice to see the love hasn’t died, Barbie. You still care about her. That’s sweet. Really touching.”

He reached across and opened the passenger door. “Now stop being a silly faggot and get in. We have a campaign to run.”

Barbie stood frozen for a moment, her mind racing through options that didn’t exist. She was prepared to throw almost anyone under the bus, but she couldn’t risk harming Kara. They may not be together anymore, but Kara was there for her through her initial transition, and she couldn’t risk destroying her life.

She climbed into the passenger seat, sinking into the leather as Enzo closed the door behind her. The envelope sat on her lap, a weight that pressed down on her conscience.

“That’s a good girl,” Enzo said, putting the van in drive. “I knew you’d see reason.”

The blonde stared out the window as they drove past the school, her heart racing. She didn’t ask where they were going. She just sat in silence and waited for whatever fresh hell Enzo had planned next.

❖

Enzo drove the van through the city streets, humming along to the radio as Barbie sat in silence beside him. She didn’t ask where they were going. She had learned that asking only made things worse. The envelope with Kara’s evidence sat on the dashboard, a reminder of why she had given in.

They pulled into the parking lot of Sparrow Park, a public space with jogging trails and picnic tables that Barbie had visited many times as Julia, back when her life had been simple, and her future had been bright. Enzo parked near the public restrooms, a concrete building with separate entrances for men and women.

“Get out,” Enzo said, killing the engine. “We’re here.”

Barbie climbed out of the van, her heels clicking against the pavement. She looked around, confused. “Like, why are we at a park? I thought you said we were doing the campaign thing at school?”

“We are doing the campaign thing,” the man said, walking toward the restrooms. “Follow me.”

She followed him around the side of the building, and Barbie stopped in her tracks. Her mouth fell open as she took in the sight before her.

The area outside the restrooms had been transformed into something that looked like a political campaign headquarters. Banners reading “Barbie Lopez for Prom Queen” hung from the trees, decorated in pink and gold glitter. Posters showed her face, heavily edited to somehow look even more bimbo-like than she already did, with the words “Vote for Barbie” in sparkly letters. A table had been set up with campaign buttons and flyers.

“Like, what is this?” Barbie asked, her voice shaking. “Enzo, what did you do?”

“This is your campaign, silly,” Enzo said, his grin widening. “I told you I had everything planned out. Now come on. Your booth is inside.”

He walked toward the women’s restroom entrance, and Barbie tentatively followed him. He pushed open the door and led her past the sinks and mirrors, past the stalls, all the way to the furthest cubicle in the back.

“Like, I don’t understand,” Barbie whined. “Why are we totally in the bathroom?”

Enzo opened the door to the last stall, and Barbie gasped.

The cubicle had been modified into something an absurd sight. A pink padded kneeling cushion sat on the floor, positioned directly in front of a circular hole that had been cut into the wall. A chain dangled from a hook on the wall just below the hole, and four rigid cuffs were attached to the back of the cushion, clearly designed to hold someone in place.

“What is that?” Barbie whispered, her eyes wide with horror.

“This is where you’ll be campaigning,” the bully said, his voice cheerful as if he were describing a trip to the mall. “This is your campaign booth. Fancy, eh?”

“You can’t, like, be serious,” Barbie said, backing away from the stall. “Enzo, please, this is—”

“I am serious,” Enzo interrupted, his eyes hardening. “When have I joked about anything, Barbie? When have I ever not followed through?”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the stall. “Strip. Now. Everything off.”

“Like, someone will see,” Barbie protested, her hands clutching at her crop top. “Enzo, please, not here—”

“No one will see you,” Enzo said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Trust me. I’ve thought of everything. Now strip, or I make the call to the principal about Kara.”

The transwoman closed her eyes and pulled off her crop top, exposing her fake, round breasts to the cold air of the restroom. She shimmied out of her miniskirt, stepping out of her heels until she stood completely naked, her caged cock on display between her legs.

“Good girl,” Enzo said, his eyes raking over her body with obvious satisfaction. “Now get on the cushion. Kneel.”

Barbie couldn’t see a way out of this. She lowered herself onto the cushion, her knees sinking into the soft padding. Enzo guided her into position, pulling her arms behind her back and locking her wrists into the metal cuffs attached to the back. He did the same with her ankles, securing them until she was completely immobile, her chest thrust out as she found herself now face level with the circular hole.

Enzo reached down and picked up a metal collar from the floor. He wrapped the cold metal around her neck, buckling it tight enough that she could feel it snug against her throat. Then he pushed the kneeling cushion closer to the wall, positioning her head directly in front of the hole. He attached the chain from the wall to a ring on the collar, cranking it taut until she couldn’t move her head back more than an inch. She was trapped, her face an inch from the glory hole, unable to turn away or pull back.

“Perfect,” Enzo said, stepping back to admire his work. “Now, let me explain how this works. There’s a campaign booth set up in the men’s restroom on the other side of this wall. It explains what you’re campaigning for, and what you’re willing to do for votes. It explains that you’ll suck off anyone who votes for you.”

“Like, no, Enzo, please,” Barbie whimpered, her voice cracking as she tested the chain and found it unyielding.

“Don’t worry,” Enzo chuckled, his grin becoming predatory. “This space is open to the public, but I’ve mass-texted enough students to let them know you’re here. You should win enough votes to secure the crown, don’t you think?”

He reached out and patted her head, his fingers trailing through her bleached blonde hair. “Have fun, Barbie. I’ll be back to collect you in a few hours.”

He stepped out of the stall and closed the door behind him. She heard the click of a lock, and then his footsteps fading away, and then nothing.

Barbie was alone.

The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity. Five minutes passed, maybe ten. She knelt on the cushion, naked, cuffed and collared, her pulse racing as she waited for Enzo’s return.

Then she heard footsteps in the men’s restroom next door. Large boots stepping on the tiles. The sound of a zipper being pulled down slowly. Barbie held her breath, her eyes fixed on the hole in the wall.

Nothing happened for a long moment, then a cock pushed through the hole. It was only half-hard, thick and pale, dangling slightly as it entered her field of vision. The head brushed against her fat, glossy lips, prodding them, pushing against her mouth. She tried to pull back, but the chain held her firm. She couldn’t move away. The cock pressed harder, insistent, demanding entry.

Barbie squeezed her eyes shut and parted her lips. The cock pushed forward, filling her mouth, and she began to work her tongue against the shaft. It twitched and grew harder in her mouth, the blood flooding into it as she sucked. She could hear breathing from the other side, heavy and labored, but no words. Whoever he was, he didn’t speak to her. He just used her mouth in silence, his hips beginning to thrust against the wall in a slow rhythm.

She worked him with her tongue and lips, her jaw already aching from the awkward angle. The cock grew fully hard now, thick and veined, pushing deep into her throat until she gagged around it. Still, he said nothing. He just fucked her face through the hole, anonymous and silent, until she felt him tense and then he was finishing in her mouth, hot cum flooding her tongue. She swallowed. She had no choice. The chain held her in place, and she couldn’t pull back.

And just like that, the man pulled out without a word. She heard the zipper going back up, and then footsteps walking away. Who the hell was that? she wondered. Who the hell walks through a park and puts their cock through a restroom hole?

The answer came quickly. More footsteps approached, this time the sound of sneakers squeaking against tile. Two voices murmured to each other on the other side of the wall, too low for her to make out the words. Then a second cock pushed through the hole, darker and already fully erect, the head glistening with pre-cum. It bumped against her cheek, smearing wetness across her skin, and the moment she turned her head slightly, it prodded her mouth. The chain prevented any real movement, so she opened wide and let him slide between her lips. This one was thinner but longer, and he pushed deep immediately, not giving her time to adjust. She heard one of the voices laugh, a jovial sound that made her stomach twist. They were laughing at her. They knew exactly what she was, and they found it hilarious.

He finished in her mouth too, pulling out before she had fully swallowed, leaving a trail of cum dripping down her chin. She couldn’t wipe it away. Her hands remained locked behind her. The cum stayed there, cooling on her skin, as she waited for the next one.

They came in a steady stream after that. A thick, uncut cock that filled her mouth so completely she could barely breathe. A small one that barely reached her lips and finished almost immediately, the cum dribbling uselessly against her closed mouth until she opened to accept it. Two men came in together, and for a moment two cocks pushed through the hole at once, slapping against her face, fighting for entry. She took them one at a time, switching between them as they mocked her from the other side, calling her a greedy slut, a cum-hungry bimbo. They finished on her face instead of in her mouth, the hot spurts coating her eyelashes, dripping down her nose, mixing with her permanent makeup to create a mask of degradation.

Time lost meaning. Her knees ached against the cushion. Her jaw felt permanently unhinged. The taste of salt and bitterness never left her tongue. She stopped counting after seven, or maybe it was eight. The men blurred together, anonymous flesh using her, discarding her, replaced by the next.

Then she heard Enzo’s voice outside the stall, loud and cheerful. “That’s enough campaigning for today, folks. The polls are closed.”

The lock clicked. The door swung open. Enzo stood there with his phone out, recording her disheveled state, her face glazed with the evidence of her humiliation. He unchained her collar, unlocked the cuffs, and Barbie slumped forward. That bastard had found another way to use his blackmail to degrade her further, and Barbie wondered what else he could do that would top this.

❖

It was prom night, and Barbie stood alone in the gymnasium doorway, her platform heels clicking against the polished floor as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Enzo had presented the outfit to her that morning with a grin that suggested he had been planning this for weeks. He had happily dropped the garment bag on her bed at the frat house and told her she had better start getting ready early. She had spent two hours squeezing into the ensemble, struggling with the crisscross ribbon lacing up her open back and adjusting the multiple layers of fluffy tulle that made up the micro-mini skirt.

The dress was a parody of a princess gown. The bodice was hot pink satin with molded cups that pushed her implants into two perfect round globes, trimmed with pink marabou feathers along the top edge that tickled her chin whenever she moved her head. The skirt was constructed from layers of tulle and crinoline in graduated shades of pink, cut so short that the fluffy material barely covered her crotch and revealed the bottom of her ass cheeks whenever she shifted her weight. The back was completely open, plunging down to just above her ass crack, held together only by the crisscrossing pink ribbon lacing that allowed glimpses of her skin between each crossing. Sheer pink mesh cutouts at the waist exposed her love handles and the fact she wore no underwear beneath the tulle.

She completed the look with elbow-length pink satin gloves that matched the bodice, each cuff trimmed with the same feathers that adorned her neckline. Her feet were encased in clear platform stripper heels with pink soles that added six inches to her height, forcing her into an exaggerated hip-swaying walk that made the tulle skirt bounce with every step. The ankle straps featured tiny pink locks that Enzo had snapped shut with a grin, telling her that good girls deserved to be secured.

Students passed her in pairs and groups, their eyes raking over her exposed skin before they erupted into snickers that followed her like a wake. A group of male students stood in the corner near the punch bowl, their laughter cutting through the ambient music as they watched her with amusement. One of them, a tall senior with a letterman jacket, leaned in close to his buddies and spoke in a conspiratorial tone that carried just enough for Barbie to catch fragments.

“I fucked that bimbo twice at some frat house last month,” he said, his voice dripping with casual bravado. “She was on her knees begging for it, couldn’t get enough.”

His friends laughed, shaking their heads in disbelief. “No way, man. You’re full of shit.”

“I swear to God,” the senior insisted, his grin widening. “I’ll take you guys next time and prove it. I’m telling you.”

Barbie felt the blood drain from her face as she stared at him, her mind scrambling through a blur of faces, bodies, rooms that had all merged into one continuous nightmare. She couldn’t place him. She couldn’t remember if he was telling the truth or if he was lying to impress his friends, and somehow that uncertainty made it worse. The shame burned hotter knowing she had been used so thoroughly that she couldn’t even distinguish one fucker from another anymore. She scrambled away from the doorway, her heels clicking frantically against the floor as she sought refuge against the far wall.

She pressed her back against the cold surface, her gloved hands flat against the painted cinderblock as she tried to steady her breathing. That’s when she saw Kara. Her former girlfriend stood near the refreshment table with two other girls, all of them wearing elegant gowns that fell to the floor in waves of satin. Kara looked beautiful in a deep blue dress that matched her eyes, her hair styled in loose curls that framed her face. Barbie’s chest ached at the sight of her, at the memory of what they had been to each other before everything had fallen apart.

She had done this for Kara. She had degraded herself in that restroom stall, let anonymous men use her mouth, all to protect Kara’s future. Kara needed to know. She needed to understand that Barbie had worn this dress and gone through all of this for her. She needed her ex-girlfriend to understand that she hadn’t become this bimbo whore by choice, but because she had been trying to save her and the other girls from expulsion.

Barbie gathered her courage and tottered across the gym floor in her six-inch heels, each step threatening to send her sprawling. The marabou trim on her gloves brushed against her bare shoulders as she walked, drawing more attention to the obscene display of her implants pushed up by the molded satin bodice. She approached Kara’s group with her hands clasped together, her lower lip trembling as she prepared to speak.

Kara turned as Barbie got within earshot, and her expression hardened into a disgusted sneer. She looked Barbie up and down, taking in the skirt and the tits almost pouring out of her dress. She shook her head.

“How about we go find somewhere less filthy to stand?” Kara said to her friends, her voice loud enough for Barbie to hear every word. “I don’t want to catch anything standing this close to the trash.”

Barbie stopped in her tracks as if she had been slapped. Kara’s friends laughed, one of them covering her mouth with a gloved hand as they turned to walk away.

“Is Chlamydia airborne?” one of them asked in a stage whisper, just loud enough to carry. “Because I feel like I’m breathing in a disease right now.”

“I think you can get it from being in the same room,” another girl replied, and they all laughed harder, their voices following them as they moved toward the other side of the gym.

The transwoman stood frozen, her hands dropping to her sides, her head falling forward in shame as the heat of humiliation spread across her cheeks. She had been prepared for anger, had been ready for Kara to hate her, but this casual disgust cut so much deeper. She had become something so foul that Kara couldn’t even stand to be near her.

“Well, don’t you look pretty,” a voice said from behind her, and Barbie didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Enzo. She could smell his cologne as she felt his presence looming over her shoulder. “Well, you look as pretty as a sissy femboy could look, I guess.”

Barbie kept her head down, staring at the floor between her platform heels. She didn’t respond. She didn’t want to encourage him.

“Are you excited for the Prom Queen announcement?” Enzo asked, stepping around to stand in front of her. He was wearing a black tuxedo that probably cost more than her monthly rent, his hair styled perfectly, his smile bright and evil. “I have to say, Barbie, I haven’t seen campaigning like yours before. I really think you have this in the bag. The students really... responded to your platform.”

Barbie remained silent, her eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. She hated him, wanted to get as far away from him as she could, but no matter what the blonde did, she just couldn’t shed her tormentor.

Enzo reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded slip of paper. He pressed it into her gloved hand with a gentleness that felt far more threatening than it should have.

“If you win,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper that only she could hear, “you make sure you read exactly what’s on that note. Every word. Or this will be the last time Kara walks inside this school gym. Do you understand me?”

Barbie nodded once, her fingers closing around the paper. She didn’t need to read it to know what it contained. Another humiliation, another piece of her soul that Enzo would force her to sacrifice on the altar of his amusement.

“Good girl,” Enzo said, patting her cheek with a familiarity that made her skin crawl. “Now go stand over there and look available. The announcement should be coming up soon.”

He walked away, leaving her alone in the center of the gym with the note burning in her palm. She shoved it into the tiny pocket of her tulle skirt, the one that was more decorative than functional, and made her way to the wall where she could lean against something solid and try to stop her knees from shaking. The announcement was coming up, and all she could hope was that the school saw sense and disqualified her entry.

The lights dimmed, and a hush fell over the crowd as the student council president, Alexia Martinez, stepped onto the stage. Barbie watched her with a mixture of longing and despair. Alexia had been her friend once, back when she had been Julia. They had worked together on student council projects, had dreamed about the future they were going to build. Now Alexia stood at the microphone in a silver gown that shimmered under the spotlights, looking every inch the student leader she had always been, while Barbie leaned against the wall in a pink tulle nightmare, hoping to be spared the next degradation.

“Good evening, everyone,” Alexia said, her voice clear and confident as it carried through the sound system. “I’m here tonight to announce your Prom King and Prom Queen. But before we get to that, I want to say how proud I am of this senior class. We’ve been through a lot together, and we’ve grown so much.”

Barbie tuned out the rest of the speech, her mind retreating to the small corner where she could still be Julia, if only for a few seconds. She imagined what her life would have been like if she had never met Enzo, if she had never been blackmailed in the first place, how this would have all been so different.

“And now,” the council president raised her voice, “we’re going to break with tradition tonight. Usually we announce the Prom King first, but I think we should start with the Prom Queen. Are you all ready?”

The crowd cheered, a sound that felt like it was pressing against Barbie’s eardrums. She pushed herself away from the wall, her hands smoothing down the front of her skirt. This was it.

“The nominees this year were all exceptional,” Alexia continued, opening the envelope in her hands with a flourish. “But one candidate really showed off her… uniqueness. The winner of this year’s Prom Queen crown is... Barbie Lopez!”

The gymnasium erupted into a smattering of applause that sounded more like laughter than celebration. Barbie stood frozen for a moment, her mind refusing to process what had just happened. Then she saw Enzo in the crowd, applauding louder than anyone else, his hands raised above his head as he gestured for her to come to the stage.

She tentatively walked forward, lowering her gaze to avoid the humored stares from the student body. The crowd parted for her, or perhaps they just stepped back to avoid touching her, and she climbed the stairs to the stage with her eyes fixed on Alexia’s face. Her former friend wouldn’t meet her gaze, staring instead at the tiara in her hands as if it were something shameful.

“Congratulations,” the young woman said bluntly, her voice barely audible as she placed the tiara on Barbie’s head.

The cold metal pressed against her forehead, and then Alexia was draping the sash across her chest, the fabric reading “Prom Queen 2026” in glittering letters that caught the light. Barbie stood at the microphone as the stagehands cleared the area behind her, leaving her alone in the spotlight with hundreds of eyes staring up at her.

She pulled the note from her pocket with trembling fingers and unfolded it. The handwriting was Enzo’s. She stared at the words, her mouth going dry as she realized what he expected her to say.

“Like...” she started, her voice cracking over the sound system. She cleared her throat and tried again, the valley girl dialect she couldn’t escape making every word sound like a parody of itself. “Like, thank you all so much for voting for me. I totally couldn’t have become Prom Queen without, like, a lot of help from you, and from some really special guys.”

She could hear snickering from the crowd. She could see the male students in the front row leaning forward with eager expressions.

“I want to thank, like, Rick and Kaleb and Tyrone and Brad,” she stammered, her voice wavering as she forced the words out. “For teaching me that my mouth was made for, um, servicing football players instead of giving valedictorian speeches. And for helping me practice swallowing so I don’t make a mess like I did the first time.”

The laughter was louder now, spreading through the crowd. Someone whistled from the back, and a male voice called out, “That’s right!” which was met with more laughter. She could hear the teachers whispering and panicking off to the side.

“And thanks to Tyler and Jason and all my roommates,” Barbie continued, the humiliation burning so hot she thought she might faint. “For totally giving me a place to live where I finally understood I’m, like, just a set of holes. And for showing me that I don’t need, like, privacy or dignity or anything.”

She was stuttering now, her words tumbling over each other. “And thanks to Derek for buying me the big fake tits that let everyone know what I’m good for. And for never letting me forget how grateful I am.”

Each thank you was followed by snickers and chuckles from the male audience.

“And thanks to my boss Mark for giving me a job when my only qualification was having a fuckable body,” she rushed on, her face burning. “And for providing the uniform that displays my tits properly so customers, like, know exactly what they’re paying for.”

She could barely breathe now, the words coming faster as she tried to get through them. “And thanks to Coach Miller for teaching me that I should respect all male authority. And for showing me that my ass has a better purpose than sitting in classrooms.”

There was an audible gasp following that proclamation, and Barbie saw a couple of faculty members approach Alexia to stop this horror show.

“And finally,” her voice cracked, “thanks to Enzo for totally stripping away the lie that I was ever smart enough for college or capable of being more than, like, a bimbo. And for giving me the only purpose I was ever good for. Being a brainless sissy faggot fucktoy.”

“Thank you, Barbie,” Alexia’s voice cut through the microphone, and suddenly she was back on stage, her hand gentle but firm as she guided Barbie away from the podium. “That was very... that was something. Let’s give Barbie another round of applause while I announce our Prom King.” It was clear the student council president wanted to pretend that never happened and move on as quickly as possible.

Barbie stumbled off the stage, her heels catching on the edge of the stairs. She caught herself on the railing and kept moving, walking past the crowd with her head down. The laughter followed her.

Enzo was waiting by the exit, his smile wide and satisfied. He reached out to touch her arm as she passed.

“What a beautiful speech, Barbie,” he said, his voice warm with genuine pleasure. “There is no more worthy winner. You were absolutely perfect up there.”

Barbie pulled her arm away from his grip without looking at him. She kept walking, past the refreshment table, past the photo booth. She pushed through the double doors and into the empty hallway beyond.

The hallway was quiet and cold, and Barbie leaned against the wall with her tiara askew. The humiliation was too much. She had thanked them. She had stood on that stage and thanked the men who had taken her feminist autonomy, had named them one by one while the crowd cheered her on.

The school year was almost over, Barbie thought, but she knew that enough damage had been done that would follow her forever.

❖

The following morning, Barbie sat on the edge of the hard plastic chair outside the principal’s office with her knees pressed together and her hands clasped in her lap. The prom queen tiara sat proudly on her bleached blonde head. Enzo had told her to wear it until graduation, a command she had followed even though she knew it made her look ridiculous.

She had barely slept after fleeing the prom, spending the early hours tossing and turning on the thin mattress at the frat house while the boys came and went from her room without knocking. The humiliation of her speech kept replaying in her mind; each thank-you she was forced to utter sounded in her ears like a cruel refrain. She had named them all. She had stood on that stage and thanked the most despicable men she knew. She was disgusted with herself for letting it get to this.

The door to the principal’s office swung open. Mrs. Henderson peered out with an expression that suggested she had been instructed not to make eye contact. “He’ll see you now, Barbie.”

Barbie stood up. Her legs were unsteady beneath her as she walked into the office with her eyes fixed on the carpet.

Principal Whitman sat behind his desk with his hands folded in front of him. He was an older man with gray hair and a face that had always seemed kind to her back when she had been Julia. Now he looked at her with an expression of disappointment so profound it seemed to physically weigh down his features.

“Sit down, Ms. Lopez,” he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

Barbie lowered herself into the chair across from his desk. She kept her gaze on her lap, on the tiny pink miniskirt and crop top she had thrown on this morning after finally giving up on sleep.

“You know, I don’t know where things went wrong with you,” the principal said. He looked at her file on the desk with something like mourning in his eyes. “I see a student who had so much promise. You were going to be valedictorian. You had colleges knocking down the door.”

He paused. Barbie felt his attention move over her exposed midriff and the mountain of cleavage on her chest. She wanted to vanish.

“As a trans student, I gave you more rope than most,” he continued. “I let a lot of things go that I shouldn’t have. The outfits. The behavior. The rumors. I told myself you were finding your way. But you’ve crossed a line, Barbie. You’ve crossed a line that I cannot ignore.”

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a folder. He opened it and spun it around so she could see the contents. Barbie stared at the photographs spread out before her and felt her stomach drop.

The first image showed the outside of the Sparrow Park restroom with her campaign banners hanging from the trees. The second showed the inside of the men’s restroom. The third made her want to vomit. It showed a man from behind with his pants down, his cock pushed through the glory hole in the wall.

“Rumor has it that you were on the other side of that hole, Barbie,” Principal Whitman said. “Rumor has it that you spent hours in that restroom servicing anyone who walked in. That you did it as part of some campaign for Prom Queen. Is that true?”

Barbie opened her mouth to deny it. “Like, I didn’t... I wasn’t...”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted. His hand slammed down on the desk and made her jump. “This was a public park, Barbie. A public facility where families go. Where children play, and you turned it into this! You brought negative attention to this school that we cannot afford. The school board has called me three times this morning. Three times, Barbie.”

Barbie blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. “Like, I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I promise I won’t do it again. I totally promise I’ll be good. I promise, please...”

Principal Whitman shook his head. “I agree that you won’t do it again, Barbie. It’s my job to make sure it never happens again. I have no choice but to expel you from this school.”

The words sucked the air from the transwoman’s lungs. Barbie gasped as her hands gripped the arms of the chair. “Like, what? No, please, you can’t... there’s only four weeks left. I’m supposed to graduate. I’m supposed to...”

“It’s irrelevant,” he cut her off. His voice rose to drown out her pleading. “You have broken multiple serious school rules. You have brought shame on this institution, and I cannot simply let there be no repercussions, Barbie. I cannot reward this behavior with a diploma.”

Barbie stared at him. Her mind scrambled for something that might change his mind. She had learned over the past months what worked with men. She had used her mouth to get better sections at Hooters. She had used her body to pay off Derek. She had used her compliance to protect Kara.

She stood up from the chair and walked around the desk. She lowered herself to her knees in front of him, and her hands reached for his belt.

“Like, please, Principal Whitman,” she said. Her voice dropped into the breathy register that Enzo had trained into her. “I’ll be so good to you. I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t expel me. Let me stay for four more weeks. I’ll totally make you feel good. Just please don’t kick me out...”

She had his belt unbuckled before he stopped her. His hand closed around her wrist and pushed her away. For a moment she thought she saw hesitation in his eyes. She thought she felt him leaning into her touch.

“Get out,” the man said as he looked away. His voice was cold and final. “Get out of my office. You’re expelled. If you set foot on school property after that, I will have you arrested for trespassing.”

Barbie stumbled backward. Her heel caught on the carpet and sent her sprawling onto her ass. She sat there for a moment with her skirt riding up and her tiara askew. She stared up at him with an expression of utter devastation.

“Get out,” he repeated. He turned his chair to face the window so he wouldn’t have to look at her anymore.

Barbie scrambled to her feet and ran from the office. She burst through the door and into the hallway with her face burning and her chest heaving with sobs.

Enzo was leaning against the wall across from the office with his arms crossed, his grin wide and satisfied. He pushed off the wall and fell into step beside her as she stumbled down the hallway toward the exit.

“I heard the news, Barbie. Don’t worry,” he said, his voice cheerful. “You weren’t cut out for school anyway. All those books and tests and thinking. That was never going to be your life.”

Barbie kept walking, her heels clicking against the linoleum in a frantic rhythm that matched her pulse. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t look at him without wanting to scratch his eyes out, without wanting to scream or die.

“You ruined my life,” she whispered, her voice cracking as they approached the double doors that led to the parking lot. “You ruined everything. I was going to be valedictorian. I was going to go to Brown. I was going to be someone.”

Enzo laughed, a short sound that echoed off the lockers. “I didn’t ruin your life, Barbie. You ruined it yourself when you decided to become a sissy fag. You wrote your destiny when you decided to cheat for your friends. I just helped you become what you were always meant to be.”

He reached out and straightened her tiara with a nauseating tenderness. “You have a new purpose now. And from now on, school won’t get in the way of your achievements. You’re going to be such a good girl, Barbie. Such a perfect little whore.”

They reached the entranceway, the double doors looming before them with their glass panels showing the parking lot beyond. Barbie reached for the handle with her hand shaking, desperate to get outside and get away from this place that had witnessed her total humiliating downfall.

“Stop!”

The voice came from somewhere down the hall; deep, authoritative, and completely unfamiliar. Barbie froze with her hand on the door handle.

She turned slowly and looked toward the source of the command. Her eyes widened. She gasped as she recognized the figure standing on the concrete steps, realizing the nightmare was about to take an unexpected turn.

End of Chapter Seven