Being Barbi's Bitch

My outfit, it turned out, was to be the precise opposite of hers. Where she wore black, I wore white. Where she wore PVC, I wore satin. Where she wore lace, I wore cotton. Where she wore a tight dress and little more, I was bound into a corset beneath mine. Where her breasts and cock featured prominently beneath her body-hugging outfit, mine were flattened and hidden beneath my own ensemble.

By the time I was done dressing to her satisfaction, I looked like an incredibly slutty angel just fallen from heaven, cast out for only god knows what kind of sins against nature.

Barbi sat me down before the dressing table and began doing my makeup. I, of course, couldn't see what she was doing, but it felt like she was using a lot. Eyeliner, eye shadow, foundation, blush, lipstick, lip liner, powder, and a few other cosmetics I couldn't see well enough to identify were expertly painted across my eager visage. Before she would let me see, however, she placed a long, blonde wig on my head and used what smelt like glue to hold it in place.

She stepped back to take in the whole picture, but shook her head. "Something's not quite right." I wanted to look for myself but, even without being told, I knew better than to ruin her moment.

Suddenly, her entire face lit up with a smile. She opened the top drawer of the dressing table and withdrew some pink lace ribbons. She then proceeded to put my hair into pigtails, using the ribbons to tie off each tail. With that done, she paced a pink bow into my hair.

"Nope. Too much." She quickly took the ribbon away and tossed it back in the drawer. "Close your eyes."

I immediately did as I was told. I felt Barbi pull me to my feet and lead me into the room's walk-in closet. That, in itself, was a sissy's dream.

"You may open your eyes."

What I saw in the mirror was so startling, so unexpected, I had to look back over my shoulder three times to convince myself it really was a mirror, and that there was nobody else standing with us.