Becoming Miss Right

by meeah soo

 

They say her wedding is the happiest day of a girl’s life. Well, if that were true, then the happiness Dani felt at that moment must mean he was a girl for sure.

There he stood, holding his little bouquet of mini champagne roses and baby’s breath, the train of his beautiful off-the-shoulder white satin gown stretched behind him, his pretty face fetchingly obscured by a shimmering veil. In the seats of the estate’s private chapel sat many of his relatives who had turned out on his most special day, even if it was a "lesbian" wedding.

But none of them were more important than his dad, who stood next to Dani now, arm in arm, looking so handsome, and even proud, as he gave his daughter away. Dani, trembling with excitement, unsteady in the heavy dress and balancing on delicately elegant heels tied to his slender ankles with satin ribbons, leaned against his solid daddy for support.

Most important of all, there was his beloved Taylor, in her smart white linen suit and heels, looking cool and regal and beautiful. "Oh god," Dani thought, as the reverend began to speak, "I’m truly the most lucky girl in the world."

But this is the fairytale ending. The beginning of the story took place almost three years before. Taylor was driving them through the mountains of northwestern Vermont and looked over at her boyfriend David doing a crossword puzzle in the passenger seat.

Only two weeks before she had called her mother to tell her that he was the one. David had asked her to marry him. He had popped the question four months earlier but it was only last week, after a fling with a married stockbroker back in Manhattan, that Taylor decided to finally tie the knot.

David was overjoyed, naturally. Mom was a bit more cautious. She asked if Taylor were certain and Taylor told her that she was. "Then bring him back home," mom had said, after hearing the certainty in her daughter’s voice, "and we can begin."

Mom had taught Taylor and her that men had their uses. But one of them wasn’t as a life-partner. "Have you fun, live life to the fullest," she always counseled her daughters (one thing Mom wasn’t, and that was a prude), "but never marry a man." So with that understanding, Mom had pretty much left Taylor and her sister Maud to their own devices. She never troubled them about sex, outside of making sure they had the proper protection from pregnancy and disease, or lectured them about all the "bad boys" they slept with. If anything, she encouraged them to "get all that out of your system." Their friends were jealous: Taylor and her sister always had the coolest mom.

Taylor looked over at David: sweet, compliant, cute—not an ounce of bad in that boy! He was perfect!

The estate where Taylor and her sister grew up is at the end of a 5-mile driveway monitored by hidden surveillance cameras. Let’s put it bluntly: The Bradenton’s are wealthy. David came from a middle-class family so was naturally thrown off a bit when he saw for himself just how wealthy. It’s one thing to tell someone; it’s quite another to see for yourself: the mansion, the servants, the stables, the mountain over there…that kind of thing.

Taylor could see it was starting to sink in on David how different their worlds were as they walked along the winding footpath path of specially imported Italian mosaic to the front door and she thought, "This is going to be even easier than I’d hoped."

Perhaps this is the time to say that Taylor’s mom was the principal owner of the Hathor Group. Never heard of it? That’s good. That means the people paid to insure that you’ve never heard of it are doing their job. The Hathor Group is fronted by many legitimate businesses. But it’s fortune was made back in the ‘50s by Taylor’s late father. He developed a mind-control system that was awarded a huge Defense Department contract. Didn’t you ever wonder the real reason the Cold War was eventually won with scarcely a shot being fired?

The day before they’d left for Vermont, Dani had an appointment with the Bradenton’s family doctor. Dr. Aubrey Schoen had a flourishing practice quite apart from the work she did for Taylor’s mom. It had already been explained to Dani that he had been scheduled for a physical.

"Mom just wants to make certain that you are in tip-top health. There are all sorts of insurance considerations and things like that when you marry into money. I’m sorry baby."

David went along; well, of course he did. In case you haven’t figure it out by now, he was already ingesting small quantities of a certain substance that put him in a rather suggestible frame of mind.

And so it was that, nervous and uncomfortable, David in his little paper gown, submitted to Dr. Schoen’s "testing." Assisted by a pretty nurse, Dr. Schoen had David measured, weighed, palpated, probed. She checked his reflexes, his flexibility, his body-fat ratio, his hair, his nails, his teeth. She manipulated his ball sack and after routinely slipping a condom over the end of it, she carefully examined the length of David’s penis.

He wasn’t hard; but he wasn’t soft either. Then she had him climb up to a kneeling position on the crinkly-papered examining table and checked his prostate. She did this with a lubed, gloved finger at first. Then two fingers. Then three. David moaned softly in distress. Dr. Schoen excused the pretty nurse from the room and reached into her pocket. She pulled out what looked like a pink rubber dildo mounted on a stainless steel surgical handle. She told David that she needed to dilate his rectum and lubed the rectal dilater.

Halfway penetrated, David was gasping, his eyes filled with tears.

"Relax," the doctor said, and then to Taylor, who’d remained in the room for moral support, but really to enjoy what was happening to her boyfriend, "Maybe you want to hold his hand?"

David reached out to Taylor so sweetly, so trustingly. "Take it inside you baby," Taylor encouraged, "there’s not much more to go."

He’d grown into the condom by now, but Taylor didn’t even think he realized it. The plug was all the way inside him and Doctor Schoen excused herself and left the room. The pretty nurse came in and took David’s temperature. David squeezed Taylor’s hand, trembling. The nurse pulled the condom off: it was full of David’s juice. Some minutes later the doctor returned and removed the plug. She told David to get dressed. The videocam in the corner had recorded everything.

Dinner that night was a disaster, or so David had assured himself. The poor dear was so intimidated by Mom and her life-partner Jacqueline, not to mention the huge dining area, the serving people, the protocol of utensils, courses, and samplings that he was quite overcome.

Mom, although certainly imposing, was actually going out of her way to put David at ease. And even Jacqueline, as disdainful of men as you could get, seemed to feel sorry for him.

Once David fumbled a fork onto the floor and even started apologizing profusely to a maid for his clumsiness! Then he bent down to pick it up himself! Mom shot Taylor a look of comic exasperation that nearly had us all cracking up.

Later, after David was sent up to his room, Mom, Jacqueline, and Taylor retired to the sitting room for brandy. "He’s perfect," mom said. "I had my doubts that he could be quite as you said, but he’s all that and more. What did you think of him Jacqueline?"

Mom ultimately would make up her own mind, but Taylor knew aunt Jacqueline’s opinion carried great weight in such matters. She drew on her cigar, exhaled slowly, and, always sparing of words, said simply, "He’ll do." Coming from aunt Jacqueline, Taylor knew that a "he’ll do" was equal to a rave review.

"Yes," Mom said. "I believe he will do…and do well indeed." She turned to Taylor. "So you’re sure he’s the one, then? We can’t be doing this indiscriminately. You have to be positively certain."

"I’m sure, Mom. What I’m not sure of, though, is if this is the right thing to do at all. I mean…you know…"

"Taylor, we’ve been through this all before. Let me ask you a few questions. Think about them before you give me an answer. Is David at all aggressive, or even assertive? Is he strong either emotionally or physically? Is he forceful, bold, full of initiative? Do you think, knowing him as you do, that he has any real chance of being successful as a man?"

Mom knew Taylor’s answer to all of these questions: a resounding "No!" She looked at her daughter meaningfully.

"Taylor, dear. That being said, what chance does David have of ever being happy as a man?"

And so, with that conversation, David’s fate was sealed, if it wasn’t sealed long before that. Taylor knew her mother was right.

"Well?" David said anxiously, when Taylor went up later to kiss him goodnight. He was dressed in the "nightshirt" that had been left on his bed. He looked adorable, barefoot and bare-legged, in the short powder-blue gown. "They hated me, didn’t they?"

Taylor kissed him on the cheek. "They said you were perfect."

"No really…" he said, looking genuinely worried.

"Really," she smiled. "Good night sweetie."

Taylor turned out his light, patted his ass, shut the door before he could say another word, and went to her own room. Needless to say, they weren’t sharing a bed and it wasn’t just because they were staying at her mother’s house. Taylor had slept there dozens of times before with all kinds of guys, jet-setting playboys, celebrity athletes, gardeners, billionaires, bikers, ski bums—she slept around wildly, but she never slept with David. She told him that she wanted to save that part of our relationship for the right time. And, in telling him that, she was being perfectly honest.

By this time, Taylor and her mom had already picked out David’s new name. He was to be called Dani and that’s how they referred to him in phone conversations and emails. It was the name Taylor had given to a special little doll she’d had as a child: a little plastic boy she’d loved more than any other which had, with some inventive modifications and wardrobe changes, ended as a girl. Taylor remembered how Mom and aunt Jacqueline had looked on, alternately amazed, amused, and approving of her little game. "Must be something in the water or the genes," they said laughingly, and their good cheer encouraged Taylor and her sister Maud to elaborate on their childhood fantasies of turning boys into girls.

"The erections have to go," Mom said on Sunday night, viewing for the first time the tape made at Dr. Schoen’s. Dani had been sent out to the garden to pick nosegays to decorate the harnesses of aunt Jacqueline’s horses. "I hope you realize that. They aren’t much, but you have to nip that kind of thing right in the bud."

"It seems a shame," Taylor said, a bit reluctantly, looking up at a freeze-frame shot of Dani’s baby-pink stiffie. "It looks so cute and harmless."

"Looks can be deceiving. It’s best to take precautions."

"You’re right of course."

"Castration," aunt Jacqueline said. The words "castration" and "men" were never far apart in her conversation. "That’s the way to go."

Mom seemed to be considering it. "Yes, eventually, I’d think. But let’s be subtle about it. We aren’t butchers, after all. We can’t just whack men’s private parts off right and left like sausages."

"Why not?" aunt Jacqueline said with her typical dry humor.

Mom and Taylor laughed.

"He responds nicely to anal," Mom reflected. "And with minimal re-programming. That’s always a good sign."

The final results of Dani’s physical were faxed to Taylor’s office a few days after they returned to Manhattan. They were fine, of course. Dani was a perfectly healthy man. But that’s hardly what Taylor was going to tell him.

He was at her apartment on Central Park West, watching television, where he’d spent much of his time, seemingly oblivious of time, and the demands of his job, which, he would soon lose. All those rumors about television ruining minds? Totally true—especially with the drugs and subliminals Dani was being bombarded with on a daily basis.

He was sitting on the white sectional in a pair of green silk drawstring pants and no top watching soap operas without a thought in his mind. Taylor looked approvingly at his smooth, rather boyish, dark-nippled chest. He needed to develop some girlish modesty. He needed, she thought archly, to develop a reason for some girlish modesty.

Taylor told him about the "results" of the test. There was good news and bad news. Dr. Schoen had determined that he was sterile and that she suspected degenerative impotence. Dani had gone nearly as white as the sectional on which he was sitting. "You haven’t asked for the good news," Taylor said brightly.

That evening, Dani lay flat on his back on Taylor’s bed to receive the "good news." Dr. Schoen had suggested that Taylor try masturbating Dani regularly in order to possibly delay his impotence.

"Guess it’s a matter of use it or lose it huh," Taylor kept up a happy front, "Lucky you!"

Dani looked anything but lucky. He looked terrified hearing the news that he was sterile and impotent. His wrists were tied to the headboard, his smooth newly waxed legs were spread, each ankle securely tied to the posts at the foot of the bed. His green silk drawstrings pants were pulled off and Taylor undid the little bows on each side of the matching green lace panties he was wearing.

She remembered how he’d stand in the doorway of a room and ask her, bewildered, why he was wearing panties. "Why, I’ve told you a thousand times," Taylor would answer, feigning annoyance, "you like wearing them. You practically begged to be allowed to wear them. Don’t you remember?"

And Dani, looking embarrassed, would smile sheepishly and say "Oh yes, sorry. Forgot I guess," ducking out of the room as soon as possible, ashamed of a memory of something that never happened. He hadn’t been asking why he was wearing panties now in nearly a month.

"I have to tie you up," Taylor explained, "so you don’t get carried away. This is technically a form of therapy you know," she grinned. "It’s not sex. So don’t enjoy it too much girlfriend."

Then Taylor began to masturbate Dani but kept up a running commentary about how long it was taking him to get hard, not to give up, to keep trying. She stopped frequently, to "take a break," and looking down sympathetically, told him it was okay, that she wasn’t going to give up yet. Dani was so confused and demoralized, he found it difficult to respond.

In the meantime, the videocamera was recording everything so that Dr. Schoen could review it later.

By the time Dani finally achieved an orgasm, Taylor acted as if something serious had gone seriously wrong.

"Oh I’m sorry honey, I’m terribly sorry. Maybe it will work better next time. Maybe more will come out. Maybe you’ll stay hard longer. I’m afraid you won’t get bigger."

She wore a brave smile that said: "you’ll never get better." Sure enough, after three weeks of this "treatment," in addition to an increase in mental conditioning, Dani dreaded his nightly sessions.

"He’s functionally impotent," her Mom said on the phone, after viewing the latest videotape Taylor had sent her via overnight mail. "That was quick. He’s even less a boy than we thought."

"Oh mother," Taylor said, with Dani sitting easily within earshot in front of the tv, "I rub and rub and rub but it’s no use. He just can’t get it up."

The poor thing was stunned to hear his fiancee discussing his intimate problem with his future mother-in-law in such stark terms, and right in front of him. It was all Taylor could do to keep from laughing. Later, after Dani had been sent out for a bikini wax at the Village salon, Taylor called her mother back ecstatic to reveal her true feelings: "Its just amazing Mom. He’s so soft and harmless now…just like a baby lamb."

The next night, during his treatment, Taylor untied his right wrist from the headboard.

"Maybe you can do it yourself," she said hopefully.

Dani began to stroke his flaccid little penis.

"Please please try, try to make it hard…" Taylor cheered, "Oh god Dani, are you trying, it’s not working, what’s wrong, oh Dani Im so sorry" etc.

Not surprisingly, Dani couldn’t make it happen either. After she untied him, he curled up on the bed and cried in Taylor’s arms, wearing one of the little pink slips he loved sleeping in now, although when that started he couldn’t remember. He didn’t need any more treatments. He was "cured."

Dani avidly took the pills and the daily shakes that Dr. Schoen had prescribed to calm him down and restore what was left of his manhood. He listened and watched the subliminal tapes designed to "renew" his lost virility. It was clearly hopeless, but he still wanted to try.

Taylor, loving fiance that she was, agreed to continue purchasing the incredibly expensive drugs for him. Dani felt so grateful and indebted that he took the drugs and visualizations Dr. Schoen prescribed with singleminded determination. Of course, it was all a massive bunch of lies: the drugs cost nothing, Taylor wanted Dani to take them, and they were what was causing him to rush double-time toward losing any vestiges of masculinity he had left.

"Oh god, it was just so deliciously sweet," Taylor said to her Mom, on a second visit to Vermont about three months later. "He comes in where I was doing paperwork last week with two bottles of nail polish and asks me which one I think would look better on his toes. And then three days later he just suddenly notices his cute little painted toes peeking out from the surface of his bubble-bath, and he looks up, all wide-eyed, where I’m fixing my makeup for a date with that Giants linebacker and he asks me, giggling, ‘did I do this?’"

They were sitting in the study after dinner with aunt Jacqueline. Dani, who’d been having hormonal headaches all weekend, had taken to the daybed in the garden room for a midday nap.

Mom was pleased. "His resistance, what little is left, has all but crumbled. It’s always interesting to see this happen. What do you think, Jacqueline?"

"He’s a natural sissy," she said, lighting her customary after-dinner cigar. She puffed meditatively for some seconds. "He’s terrified of me."

"Arnold Schwarzenegger would be scared of you," Taylor said, and even aunt Jacqueline cracked a smile at that.

Later that weekend, just before Taylor and Dani left for the drive back to Manhattan, mom decided it was time to "set the record straight" with her fiance once and for all. Dani did his best to bear up under mom’s devastating critique of his suitability as a mate for one of her beloved daughters, but he was quietly sobbing, his pale shoulders shaking beneath the straps of his flowered sundress.

"You’ll never function normally as a man is what Doctor Schoen tells me," the old woman said plainly in front of Taylor, Jacqueline, and Taylor’s younger sister Maud, who’d just flown in, tan and fit, from a health retreat in Aspen.

They had all viewed the videotapes of Dani’s rapid decline towards total emasculation with a mixture of faked sympathy and outright laughter.

Dani had sat in attendance as well, but in stunned silence. Now he listened as his future mother-in-law completed what the drugs and the tapes had so successfully begun.

"You will never be able to provide me with grandchildren, nor satisfy my daughter’s sexual needs. But she still loves you and chooses to marry you and I won’t stand in the way of her wishes."

He sat there on the ottoman of an expensive leather chair in the little sundress, his dark hair in a pixieish society bob, legs modestly together, his feet clad in a pair of very sexy four-inch sandals. But whether he was entirely aware at the moment of how he was dressed or why it was impossible to determine. It was clear, however, that he was through resisting the changes that had already occurred, and that he had come to accept himself as a "special kind of girl."

"Will he be the same, I mean, will he have the same personality he had before," Taylor had asked her mom while they were out riding along the horse-trails that morning. "Will I even recognize him as the boy I once loved?"

"Yes," her mom said, "and no. He’ll be basically the same. We haven’t destroyed what makes him her, only what made him him."

"Hm," Taylor had said. "Whatever that means, exactly."

Mom smiled wisely. "Exactly."

Dani hadn’t heard that conversation, but he did heard Taylor sticking up for him earlier in the weekend, saying that aunt Jacqueline could "have his balls" if she wanted, but that Taylor wanted Dani to keep his pee-pee. Dani sat there passively as they discussed the fate of his now largely useless former manhood, but was vaguely proud that his fiancee had won the argument, and that she seemed to talk of him with such affection.

He was less dissociated some months later when, tied into a specially constructed frame, he was manually relieved of his scrotum and testicles by an experienced aunt Jacqueline. He’d cried and screamed, more in shock and terror, Taylor’s aunt assured her, than in any real pain, as he was castrated. There was blood all over, and although they’d fit Dani’s head into a special restraining collar, the blood had inevitably sprayed a bit and he’d seen it and went, well, a little hysterical. But aside from some considerable soreness for a while afterwards, Dani had gotten over the trauma well enough and soon regained his sunny disposition.

"I require only that you sign some documents prepared by our lawyers," Mom said. "They relinquish any interest you may have by law in the case that this marriage turns out not to Taylor’s liking. I should think this is the least you can do for Taylor and even this last act of chivalry should not be beyond you."

Dani signed the papers, sniffling, looking somewhat grateful that there was something he could do to prove his worth to the Bradenton’s and his love for Taylor. It was clear that he’d sign anything away—his life itself if need be—for a chance to live with her forever. Dani wanted only the chance to one day be standing at the altar in his beautiful white dress, holding his little bouquet of champagne mini-roses and baby’s breath, his pretty face slowly revealed from behind the shimmering veil as Taylor lifted it, his family witnessing that magic moment when they kissed, the happiest moment in a girl’s life…

"Dani…" Taylor whispered into his ear, "Dani honey…"

And Dani opened his eyes as the earphones were slipped off his head, temporarily mussing up his hair. He instinctively tried to fix it, but his arms felt so heavy. He was always a bit confused in the in-between times. He felt a bit stiff and sore. He was in the hospital again. For what, this time, he couldn’t remember. But Taylor was there, holding his hand, talking softly, looking down at him, smiling.

"You did good, darling. You did beautifully."

And Dani knew that whatever they had done to him this time, he was that much closer to that making his beautiful dream true. One day, he’d wake up and hear Taylor say the words he longed to hear: "You’re finished, Dani. You’re a girl."

{the end}

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Meeah Soo. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.