The Most Powerful Woman in the World
Updated: Jan 10, 2020
short story - fiction
I wake up to the smell of lavender and an alarm blaring on my marble bedside table. I check my phone, which is held securely by a LuMee case, and it says I have 316 unread text messages, 11,003 emails, and 42 missed calls. It’s only 5 AM, and I usually wake up at 10. I also never set alarms.
A tan woman in a sports bra with insane biceps struts into my room, which I notice looks eerily similar to a very sterile monastery. I have no art or any other furniture aside from the two marble tables, which are aesthetically appealing, I’ll admit. There is a gold chain with a diamond encrusted YEEZUS pendant sitting on the opposite table.
“Rhiiiisee and Shinneee!” the fit woman yells at me. “Get it?”
I assume she wants me to do something, so I pull myself out of bed and attempt to find my closet. My pajamas are blush pink and made of pure, rich satin. I’m sad that I have to take them off.
I’m shocked that there are no mirrors anywhere nearby, but after wandering around for a bit, I find my closet, which is actually another room that is far bigger than the one I was just sleeping in. I select an outfit that is similar to the one the fit woman is wearing, but with a little more coverage. She is doing squats behind me and I pretend that I don’t think it’s weird.
I remove my satin pajama top and notice that I have huge, massive boobs. Even though they’re not real, I’m happy with them. All of the clothes in this closet fit perfectly over my strange figure, and the fabric feels like it was made just for me.
I catch a glimpse of myself in one of the closet’s 17 full length mirrors, and I am beyond thrilled. My hair (though very heavy) looks like a mermaid’s. It’s jet black and hangs down nearly to my butt, which is also huge, but I don’t love it as much as the boobs.
The ripped woman has stopped squatting, so I follow her to another enormous room. This one is a state-of-the-art gym. I don’t like working out, but I pretend to stretch so my fitness friend doesn’t suspect anything.
“Let’s put this one on the ‘gram!” she yells. “Leg day!”
“Totally.” I reply back. She looks like she wants to raise an eyebrow, but her face is too Botoxed to make it happen.
When the fit woman isn’t looking, I quickly type “what is Kim Kardashian’s trainer’s name?” into Google.
That’s right. I’m Kim Kardashian. Not every day, but today I am. This happens sometimes, and it always takes me a few minutes to get back in the groove.
Thank God. Melissa.
I pretend to take a selfie for my fans to get Melissa back on track. She seems relatively pleased.
For the next two hours we do a series of terrible workouts to sculpt my legs into perfect form. I wish the real Kim would just commit to liposuctioning her entire body so I didn’t have to do this anymore. But ever since those vacation ass pics were leaked, I’ve been punished.
Thankfully, Kim generally likes her life, so she doesn’t switch bodies with me too frequently. But since it takes me a minute to assimilate into her form, accidents can happen. Yes, the vacation photos were my fault.
I was simply stepping outside for a bit of fresh air after Kanye’s hour-long interpretive dance performance and BAM: there were the paps. No one is ever supposed to see Kim’s ass in that fashion. It destroyed her.
I thought I might never be Kim again after the whole ordeal, but in fact, the opposite happened. She hired Melissa and forced me into 5 AM workouts for months!
With the new baby, Kim wants to be in her body again, so I’ve gotten a bit of a reprieve. I should have seen this coming when the news about her wanting to be a lawyer broke. There is no way Kim is going to sit through law school classes on her own. I should probably start studying.
When the training session is done, Melissa comes into the kitchen with me for a green smoothie. I really miss Season 1 Kim, and Kim right after she broke up with Reggie. I was inhabiting her body a lot during those times (stress), but she let me eat whatever I wanted.
The only person who knows I’m Kim sometimes is Kourtney. That was an accident too. I had successfully kept our secret for over a decade! I felt that I had perfected Kim, I really did. In my opinion, I really do believe that Kim thinks Kourtney is the least exciting to look at. I don’t think this! It felt authentic and real at the time, which is what the show is supposed to be about. We had been losing viewers on KUWTK, and to everyone’s surprise, Khloe’s drama hadn’t been cutting it. I assumed Kourtney would know it was mostly for the cameras and forgive her sister, but no such luck.
Kourtney dragged me into the bathroom while the film crew was snacking on a charcuterie plate Kris had put out. She can be so thoughtful.
“I KNEW KIM WAS STILL DOING BODY SWAPS!” Kourtney yelled at me, her tiny finger in my face.
“What are you talking about?” I said, smacking her finger away. “I’m like, right here. Bible.”
“UGH. I’M GOING TO KILL MOM. I NEVER GET TO HAVE A SWAP! EVER! WHY DO YOU THINK I’M SO BORING?!”
“That does seem unfair.” I agreed.
“The least exciting to look at?! Are you fucking kidding me?” She was very angry. Of all the things to get mad about. The tide really has turned since she rudely reminded Kim that “there are people that are dying” when she lost her diamond earring.
“You better PRAY no one finds out about this!” Kourtney stormed off, whipping me in the face with her weave.
I’m not worried. I don’t think she’ll ever really sell me out. We all have too much dirt on her from the Paris robbery and she doesn’t have the guts to take things that far. Regardless, filming with her has been an absolute nightmare ever since.
My phone suddenly vibrates with a text from the gluten-free devil herself. She wants to bring the kids over for a playdate. Fuck, I forgot I had kids. The only one I really like is Saint, but I am worried about his teenage years. If Kim keeps me that long.
“Sorry, can’t today! Big plans! I have to try on like 300 outfits for Sunday Service. Plus North is being a little bitch.” I write.
“I KNOW UR NOT THE REAL KIM.” she writes back.
I wish I could turn my phone off, but Kim made sure to include that in the contract. No turning the phone off, under ANY circumstances.
It’s been six months since I swapped with Kim. After two weeks I definitely got uncomfortable. After a month, I took a cruise with the kids and Kanye, purely for safety. There’s no way they’d EVER figure it out.
But now…I’m so tired. Kim’s life isn’t like anyone else’s life. I do enjoy the daily massages and the money, of course, but I don’t think I can keep up the charade any longer. Kourtney is fuming, but she’s threatening to get back together with Scott, so there’s a silver lining. I’ve lost thousands of Instagram followers, and Coachella is this weekend.
Sure, I’ve been Kim for years…but my body time is only three days in a row, tops! This is too much.
If Kris finds out about this, everything will be ruined. Not just my life, personally, or even Kim’s, but the whole world as we know it will be set ablaze. The only thing that can save humanity is my secret. It’s the juiciest thing Kris could ever know. This is bigger than the sex tape, bigger than Bruce (sorry, Caitlyn), bigger than Rob and Blac Chyna, bigger than KYLIE’S PREGNANCY. Kris will do insane, unforgivable, terrifying things to ensure KUWTK is on for 30 more seasons, minimum, but if that doesn’t happen, she will do something much worse.
My phone goes off with a calendar reminder. FAMILY MEETING (MINUS ROB). NO CAMERAS.
Shit. This cannot be good. We always include Rob in off-camera meetings! It’s nice to see him without the fat suit.
The driver takes me to Kris’s house, which is honestly only a few blocks away, but I’m wearing new Manolos and can’t risk being seen hobbling.
We gather in the living room and I take my usual seat under a nude photo of Kris. Kourtney is scowling at me from the corner. Khloe is scrolling through her phone. Caitlyn is chained to the corner with duct tape covering her mouth. She has to be here for meetings, per the contract, but Kris revoked her speaking privileges ever since the memoir. The Jenner sisters have not arrived yet.
Kris comes into the room and I almost fall off my chair. She doesn’t have the surgical tape holding half her face up or a stitch of makeup on. She’s wearing sweats. This is so much worse than I thought. Does she know?! I quickly take another 50 selfies to be safe.
“Well,” Kris begins, tilting her chin towards the light.
“The cameras aren’t here.” Khloe says without looking up.
“That’s right, I forgot.” Kris’ body slumps forward as if someone took the world’s largest backpack off of her.
“Well,” she tries again. “Kendall is doing a ‘photo shoot’, so she can’t be here.” She uses air quotes with her fingers when saying “photo shoot”.
“Which is honestly fine, because she is of no use to us anyway.”
The room mumbles an agreement.
Kylie slides into the room, hoping to go unnoticed. She’s wearing a massive plastic bubble around her entire body, so I’m unsure how she thought this was possible.
“Sorry, full body surgery. Again.” Kylie manages to say through her newly plumped lips. She’s not allowed outside until the swelling goes down, so she’ll likely be staying in the surgery room for the next 4-18 weeks.
“As you all know, our ratings have plummeted, despite all our best efforts.” Kris says. “We’ve tried everything. The Tristan robot has been fucking everything we’ve programmed it to. The Jordan scandal was mildly successful but the damn Smith family really fucked us. Does anyone want to get pregnant again?”
Everyone’s eyes shift to Kourtney.
“Nevermind. The point is, we need something big, or Ryan’s going to take us off the air.”
The entire room gasps. Kylie’s plastic bubble rolls her body into the kitchen. Khloe goes to retrieve her.
“Does anyone have any ideas? Anything at all?”
Thick, murky tension fills the living room. We all know she’s giving us one final chance before she decides to bring the apocalypse.
Khloe is ringing her hands. “I’ve really been trying with the unstable tweets,” she says.
“I know you have honey. But maybe it’s time to accept that the day of reckoning has finally come. We need to cleanse the world with fire. It’s the only way.”
“WAIT!” I hear myself yell. I’m standing. I’m wobbling. Fucking shoes. “I have an idea.”
“Ugh, Kim-“ Kourtney whines.
“Please, Kourtney.” Kris intervenes. She meets my eyes. The only one she truly trusts is me. I mean Kim.
“I have an idea…that could change everything. Everything. Not just the show, but…but…the entire world. This could be bigger than the apocalypse.”
Kris’ tired eyes widen.
“The thing is. I have to keep it a secret until the release. No one can know about this. Not even you guys.”
“Is this like my pregnancy?” Kylie tries to say.
“THIS IS BIGGER THAN YOUR PREGNANCY!” Kourtney screeches.
“She’s right, it really is. I promise.”
Kourtney knows what I’m going to do. She knows that if I release to the world that celebrity body swapping is real, we’ll all be safe from the apocalypse. However, the celebrity world as she, and most, know it, will be terribly damaged. You know that the whole Britney Spears head shaving thing happened because of a body swap, right? Mistakes will be made. Social media will suffer. Relationships in Hollywood will cease to exist. Say goodbye to celebrity weddings. But, we can save humanity (and more importantly, the show) if I do this.
“Let’s do it.” Kourtney and Kris say at the same time. “I’ll schedule a press release for next week so drum up excitement for the next season. I’ll need some collateral, something like…’Kim’s Biggest Secret Revealed?’” Kris’ TV glow has returned. She’s ready to feast.
The room is quiet. Not her best. “I’ll work on it.” She assures us.
I nod solemnly and wait for everyone else to leave the room so no one catches me walking funny.
Before calling the driver, I say a silent prayer for Kim to come back. The only person who could handle this is her, the most powerful woman in the world.