I remember the first time I undressed Malibu Barbie and made her sleep with Donny Osmond Barbie. I never owned a proper Ken doll, and although I knew Malibu Barbie would never have chosen to sleep with Donny, the supreme virginal archetype of all Mormondom, I didn’t have many options.

Surprisingly, it never even occurred to me that Malibu Barbie could sleep with another girl Barbie and have fantastic plastic lesbian sex. But I was only eight years old, and girls my age had nothing comparable to a Britney Spears Barbie. Had I owned a Britney Spears Barbie, all of my other Barbies would have been lesbian Barbies.

Malibu Barbie lost her hands years before I inherited the Barbie collection from my older sister, September. She claims that the dog got hold of Malibu Barbie and mangled both hands and a portion of the doll’s hair. But we never had a dog, and I often pointed this out to my sister who would promptly roll her eyes and command me to shut up.

I knew that if Donny accidentally got Malibu Barbie pregnant he would have no problem stepping up and accepting full responsibility for the potentially handless baby. Somehow that seemed to justify the fact that I was forcing two innocent, lifeless puppets to have pre-marital sex.

I explained this line of reasoning to my mother who found out from my sister that I was forcing the Barbies to fuck. Although September had experimented with naked Barbies before me, had even toyed with multiple naked Barbies in horizontal situations, she immediately ran to my mother with the discovery once she found Donnie and Malibu Barbie doing the dirty in my closet.

My mother remained remarkably calm during the whole intervention, carefully explaining that Barbies, like humans, should wait until they are married before they climb into bed naked with one another. When I told her that I was afraid that none of my Barbies would want to marry Donny Osmond Barbie, she kindly suggested, “Well then, just pretend that Donny Osmond Barbie is really David Hasselhoff Barbie.”