The Orchid The Storyteller
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Danni's Story free porn video
Danni's Story
By Heather St. Claire
It's now been one week since the surrogates were disabled, perhaps for
good. I know the world is just starting to sort out the impacts. Some
people have been able to go on to with their lives without too much
disruption, but I suspect they are a fortunate few.
I am one of the others. I have to face up to some pretty fundamental
questions about who I really am.
My name is Daniel Haynes. I'm a 27-year-old teacher at a local elementary
school. Until a week ago, my students and colleagues knew me as Danni
Haynes, the name I went by when using my female surrogate.
I was born in 2027, so I really don't have too many memories of the world
before surrogates. By the time I was 10 years old or so, it seemed like
just about every adult I knew had one, even my parents, who were of the
liberal, eco-friendly persuasion that was least open toward the idea. But
my dad was embarrassed by his male pattern baldness and my mom, wonderful
woman that she is, was never a hottie; I think they both welcomed the
opportunity to interact with the world through idealized versions of
themselves.
Mom is a teacher, my older sister is a teacher, and my dad taught for a
time before going back to school to get his law degree. No, it's not what
you think?he didn't turn into a corporate suit, he spends his days
representing environmental interests. So it probably won't surprise you
to learn that when it came time for me to choose a career, I decided to
become a teacher.
I enrolled in the teacher education program at the local branch of the
state university. I loved my college years, but I looked forward to
getting on with my life and career. My student teaching assignment
couldn't come soon enough.
Even though most men teach at the middle school level or above, I had
always had my heart set on a job at the primary level. There's something
about engaging the youngest minds that I find particularly challenging
and rewarding. I know that it's work of lasting value. Did you know that
one state projects its future prison population based on third grade
reading scores?
I got an assignment in an upscale suburban elementary school. I had a
great master teacher to work with, and the entire building staff was very
supportive. I was almost at the end of my assignment, thinking about
where I would be sending my resume, when I had a life-changing meeting
with the principal.
Bonnie was an imposing looking woman of about 50, to judge from her
surrogate. She told me that I had earned an outstanding overall rating
for my work. "Danny, you will be a credit to this profession," she said.
"But do you want to know the one thing you can do to double your chances
of finding a job?"
"Of course," I said.
"Purchase a female surrogate."
"You're kidding."
"I am absolutely serious. Why do you think there isn't one male on the
faculty here? Parents are more comfortable entrusting their youngest ones
to female teachers. That means school districts are more comfortable with
hiring female teachers. I'm not saying it's right or wrong, I am telling
you what reality is."
I shook my head. "Amazing," I said. "Almost 100 years into the modern
civil rights era, women's liberation, all of that...we're still dealing
with anachronistic prejudices."
"Welcome to the real world," she said dryly. "A mother looks at a female
teacher with her child and sees another nurturer. She looks at a male
teacher and sees a potential pedophile. You're talking about a century of
enlightenment?maybe?against thousands of years of instinctual
conditioning."
I told her, without much conviction that I would think about it.
When I got together with my parents and sister for dinner the following
Saturday night, I broached the idea to them. I expected them to dismiss
it as nonsense. Instead, they liked it.
"I've always thought we all contain both a male and a female essence," my
mother said. "This will give you an opportunity to develop and embrace
the feminine within you." I stared at her, a little incredulously. I was
used to her being on the touchy-feely side, but suddenly she was talking
like a New Age guru.
My father, as ever, was the practical one. "Anything that can help you
get a job in this economic climate is a plus, in my book."
As for my sister Abby, she was elated. "I always wanted a sister," she
bubbled. "Now I finally get one. I'll help you pick her out and buy a
wardrobe. This is going to be so much fun!"
I sighed deeply. "O-K," I said. "I know when I'm outnumbered." I agreed
that I would go surrie shopping with Abby once I made it through the
whirlwind of activities around graduation and getting moved back home
temporarily while I began my job search. I tried to put it out of my mind
until then, because frankly, I was still having difficulty wrapping my
brain around it, despite the fact that everyone thought it was such a
great idea.
I never thought of myself as a macho guy by any means. I wasn't into
bodybuilding, extreme sports, or bragging about my sexual conquests to my
friends....not that I had many sexual conquests to brag about. I had
shared my bed with a grand total of two women to this point in my life.
If anything, I was a bit on the shy and sensitive side, but I resolutely
thought of myself as male, so interacting with the world through a female
surrogate was going to take some adjustment.
When the big day came, Abby was at the front door of our parents' house
ten minutes early. "I wasn't expecting you until ten," I said. "I haven't
finished doing my nails yet."
"Very funny, sister, very funny," she said. "Now let's get serious and
get going."
Humor had been my last defense. I knew the time had come to face my new,
feminine future. Within fifteen minutes, we found ourselves in a Virtual
Self showroom. When I found myself slightly tongue-tied in describing
what I wanted; fortunately, Abby stepped in. We were soon looking over a
selection of female surrogates. I stopped in front of one that appeared
to be close to my own height?five feet, eleven inches tall, and had a
lean, athletic build. "How about this one?" I asked.
"Great if you want to be a female marathoner," she said. "But maybe not
quite right for what you've got in mind." She had taken me by the arm and
guided me toward another surrie. This one was no more than five-two, and
she definitely had womanly curves. She had a sweet looking, heart shaped
face and shoulder-length light brown hair. "I think you might have better
luck with something like this."
"She's so short."
"Better to relate to the kids on their level. Besides, if you ever want
to be taller, you can just put on a pair of stilettos."
I gulped. "You're talking about high heels?"
"Of course I'm talking about high heels!" she said, sounding a little
exasperated. "Did you think you were going to spend all your time in
flats? Danny, either get with the program, or forget about this!"
"Ease up, sis, will you? Remember this wasn't my idea in the first
place."
She put her hand on my shoulder, and then pulled me toward her for a hug.
"Look, I know this is a stretch for you, but it's really the best way to
get to where you want to be in life. Haven't you dreamed of being a
teacher since you were in first grade?"
"Well, yes, but?"
"No buts, Missy! Let's get you in the stem chair and have you take her
for a spin."
Moments later, against my better judgment, I found myself settling into
the chair and putting on the headset that would link me with the
surrogate. Once the hookup was complete, I opened my eyes, and saw the
world for the first time as a female. I was used to being a few inches
taller than Abby; now I realized I was looking up at her. "This is
strange," I said, in a girlish voice. "Really strange."
"Try her out," the saleswoman urged. "Why don't you two go for a walk?"
With Abby's encouragement, we headed outside. It was a pleasant early
summer day. We walked across the street to a mini-park and sat down on a
bench.
As I started to sit, Abby stopped me to remind me to smooth out my skirt
first. I sat with my legs together; Abby showed me how to cross them.
"More ladylike," she said.
"I am never going to get the hang of this," I said with a sigh.
"Sure you are, sister, sure you are," she said. "I think she's just
perfect for you. Why don't you get her?"
I signed the paperwork, taking advantage of Virtual Self's easy financing
plan, and made arrangements to have my new surrie delivered to the house
a couple of hours later. "I can't wait to take you shopping!" Abby said
with delight. As we climbed aboard the subway, I found myself wondering
how I was going to pay for all of this. With student loans, a new
surrogate and the need to get a proper wardrobe for her, I knew I had to
find a job, and fast.
Over the following weeks, I spend most of my time on Daniel, as I had
named my male surrogate (to distinguish him from my new alter-ego,
Danni). I went biking and hiking with my friends, worked on job
applications, or just hung out at the local Starbucks. But I did link up
to Danni whenever I went on an interview. As I spent more time on her, I
found myself getting more comfortable with female behaviors and
mannerisms. By the time of my sixth interview, I was beginning to think I
could pull this off.
I found myself sitting in front of the human resources director for a
district in a suburb about ten miles south of the city. This was a
poorer, more industrial community, but the schools had a growing
reputation for innovation and excellence. He seemed charmed by the fact
that I was willing to go to the trouble of getting a female surrogate in
order to relate better to my future students.
"Future students?" I asked. "Does that mean--?"
"Yes, Danni," he said. "You're hired. You'll report to work the beginning
of August."
Mom and Abby helped me sort out everything I would need to do to be ready
for my maiden (appropriate term, eh?) teaching assignment. I rounded up a
couple of friends and got settled into the apartment I rented a few
blocks from the school.
When I arrived at my new workplace for the first time, I found myself
sorting through a mass of emotions?I was excited. I was scared. Scared
not only of how the students would accept me, but my future colleagues as
well. Even in this era when so many people were not who they appeared to
the world as, I knew there were those who didn't like the cross-gender
use of surrogates.
On day one, I found myself with worries I had never had to cope with
before, at least not quite like this?wear my hair up or down? How dressy
or casual to be? Abby had warned me to allow an extra hour to get ready
on this day. At first, I thought that was a little nutty, but I
discovered that she was sharing the true wisdom of an older sister.
Shorts, a peasant top, and little makeup, since it's just a day to start
unpacking and settling in? A workday dress and full makeup to impress my
new colleagues? I finally settled on off-white capris, a matching linen
jacket and an embellished top. I put my hair up. Funny how I used a
scrunchie to hold my ponytail...I hadn't even known what they were called
a few weeks earlier. All the while, I couldn't help but thinking how much
simpler it would have been with Daniel...dockers, a polo, comb my hair
and ready to go.
I was lucky in one aspect. The women at the school welcomed me with open
arms from the start. I think Deanna Roberts had a lot to do with it. She
was the principal, and my future lover. A statuesque redhead, who,
appeared to be in her mid- to late thirties. "I want to know that I asked
that you be assigned to this school," she told me on our first meeting.
"I admire the hell out of what you're doing."
I had been assigned to one of the second-grade classrooms. Another second
grade teacher, Olivia Evans, had been assigned as my mentor. She was
outgoing and had a great sense of humor. We really became close as the
school year progressed...best girlfriends, you might say. In fact, she
insisted on calling me "girlfriend" most of the time.
All too soon the time of preparation was over and I had to face a class
of my own for the very first time. It was love at first sight on my part,
and I hope the feeling was mutual. To seven year olds, the world is still
a wonder their curiosity really moves into overdrive at this age. They
are developing social and artistic skills at a new level. I realized
before too many days had passed that I was not just their teacher, I was
a surrogate parent, and as much as I fought the idea at first, I realized
I was their mother away from home. Who else was going to wash their
scraped knee when they fell on the playground and dry their tears?
For the first few weeks of that first year, I was still living a double
life. I was Danni during the school day and Daniel at night and on
weekends. That was the way I always assumed it would be. But life has a
funny way of taking you in a different direction sometimes.
My twenty-third birthday arrived in late October. The day before, Olivia
told me to wear something suitable for a night out on the town to work
the next day, as the staff was going to take me out to celebrate. It was
important for me to be ready to go right after school, she said, as they
had a full evening planned.
"But I need time to go home and switch to Daniel."
"No, no girlfriend," she said. "You need to come as you are. It would
defeat the whole idea. It's going to be a girl's night out."
"What are you talking about?"
"You'll see."
I decided to go along with whatever they were planning. It was easier
than arguing. The next day I wore a black dress and flats. I brought
along heels, larger earrings, and a bling-y necklace for our "girl's
night out."
I soon found out they meant what they said. Our first stop was Macy's,
where they put bought a sequined dress and a pair of four-inch stilettos
for me. I was used to 2 ? inch heels by now, so it took a bit of
adjustment to get used to walking in these. They insisted I keep the
dress and heels on for the rest of the evening.
Our next stop was the Victoria's Secret in the same mall. My gift there
was an assortment of push-up bras, sexy nightgowns and teddies. "What do
I need all this stuff for?" I weakly protested.
Deanna smiled at me, and then winked as she said, "You never know."
Our caravan continued to a Chippendale's. I buried my face in my hands.
"You have got to be kidding," I said weakly.
Olivia put her arm across my shoulder. "Come on girlfriend, aren't you
having fun?"
I had to admit that this was kind of fun. "But it's also a little
embarrassing."
"Oh come on," she said. "You're loving this and you know it. And we are
too." With that, she reached into a bag she had at her feet, and pulled
out a tiara with the words "Birthday girl" spelled out in rhinestones.
I smiled. "Please tell me you're not going to make me stuff cash in their
crotches."
"We won't make you, I promise," she said.
Funny thing was, about an hour and half a dozen mimosas later, I found
myself with a fistful of dollars and beckoning the dancers over to me. My
entourage whooped and cheered as I pushed one "tip" after another into
the dancers' waistbands. In between, I opened my presents, which included
a pink t-shirt that read "Bad Girls go to Chippendales" and a couple of
virbrators.
I opened the elaborate birthday card they had all signed. On the front it
said: "Girlfriend! Time to take your birthday quiz!" Inside were
questions like this: "Why do men become smarter during sex? Because
they're plugged into a genius" and "Why did God make men first? You need
a rough draft before the final copy" and "Why did God put men on earth?
Because vibrators can't mow the lawn." I read the last one aloud while
holding aloft one of my gifts. "Who's going to show me how to use this
thing?" I asked. Deanna smiled at me and winked. I felt a chill up my
spine when she did that.
Eventually, it was time to bring the revelry to a close and get some
sleep. I had had fun "playing" girl for a night, but that's all I thought
it was, a night of playacting. After all, wasn't this what the era of
surrogates was all about? The ability to experience life as someone else?
But things continued to shift my life in a new direction.
The next week, Deanna asked me if I would join her for dinner after work.
She said she liked to talk to new teachers about their professional
development in a setting outside of the school; she thought it made it
easier for both parties to relax and open up. I agreed, but was a bit
surprised when she added: "Oh, please come as Danni. I'm used to dealing
with that way, and she's your professional 'face.'" Her reasoning made
sense, so I agreed.
We had dinner at a steakhouse I liked. It still seemed strange to me
sometimes to be eating with a surrogate; but isn't dining as much a
social and sensory experience as anything else in this day and age? I
surprised myself by ordering a chicken Caesar salad instead of my usual
sirloin. Deanna had a T-bone. "Why not?" She said. "It's not going to
cause me to gain weight or drive up my cholesterol."
I hadn't been too worried about my evaluation, and Deanna soon confirmed
that my instincts were accurate. She had been observing my classroom
regularly, and she gave me high marks for creativity, engagement, and
dealing with difficult students. I had my share in that first class (and
every one since); those with attention deficit issues, hyperactivity,
slow learners, ones from homes in turmoil.
I almost didn't realize that the conversation had segued from a
discussion of work to our personal lives. Deanna got me to give her the
story of my life up til' then. She seemed to be particularly interested
in my relationship with my mother and sister, and how I was adapting to
living through a female surrogate. I learned that she was ten years older
than me, had been divorced for five years, and had no children.
By the time we had finished dinner and dessert, I found myself accepting
her invitation to her place for a nightcap. The feminine intuition I was
starting to develop told me where things were headed, but either I didn't
want to admit it to myself, or I was excited about it. Maybe a bit of
both.
Deanna didn't waste much time after she had poured our drinks. As she
handed me mine, her hand lightly brushed across the top of mine. "Danni,"
she said, "I'm not going to play around any longer. I find you very
attractive. I consider myself to be bisexual, and I think that's part of
the appeal. With you, I get the best of both worlds in one package." She
closed her eyes, parted her lips, and leaned forward to kiss me. I
happily returned the kiss.
As I said earlier, I had limited experience with women to this point, but
this was virgin territory in more ways than one. I had known the feeling
of a woman's breasts against my chest; but the sensation of my own
breasts pressed against hers was something new...and something very
pleasant.
We spent several minutes just kissing before Deanna's hand came to rest
on my leg and started massaging it. "Have you ever been pleasured as a
woman before? Even by yourself?" I admitted that I hadn't. The vibrator I
had received for my birthday still sat in a dresser drawer at home,
unused (though I had gone as far as putting batteries in it.) "Well,
then," she said, "Get ready for a treat." She led me by the hand to her
bedroom.
Over the next several hours, the wonders of the female orgasm were
unlocked for me. Deanna was the best kind of teacher; patient, gentle,
and very hands-on.
The next morning, after a quick charge, I sat down for breakfast with
Deanna. I was wearing one of her robes, which was a couple of sizes too
big for me, but she told me it made me look cute, kind of like one of my
students playing dress up with her mother's clothes. I thought I had
learned to be ready for anything at this point, but have to admit I
gasped when she asked me to move in with her. "Already?" I asked.
"Why not?" she replied. "I know what I want, and I think you do too."
"What about the school district...rules on fraternization and all that?"
"Oh, don't worry about that, love. I'm resigning."
"You're what?"
"I'm taking a job with the folks who made all this possible, in a way.
I'm going to be the workforce training and development officer for the
regional office of Virtual Self. It will be nice to be actually teaching
again, even if it's adults. That's one of the things I don't like about
this profession...it steers the best teachers away from the classroom.
Don't ever let them do that to you. You were born to be in the classroom.
Oh, and the fact that they're tripling my salary doesn't hurt either. So
what do you say, Danni?"
"Okay," I said with a smile. "You've got yourself a girlfriend."
She suddenly looked serious. "By the way, I hope you weren't planning on
bringing your male surrogate here. Even though I know you're male, I
prefer not to have my illusions contradicted too directly." She also laid
down the law: "You will never see my flesh-and-blood self. I don't expect
you to understand; you will just have to accept that I have my reasons."
The next few weeks were a whirlwind. Moving out of my brand new apartment
and into Danni's place wasn't that big of a project; I hadn't even
finished unpacking all of my stuff. Explaining my new relationship to my
family was a bit more of a challenge. They knew something was up when I
asked to see them as Danni; after an initial visit right after I bought
her, I had still been coming to them as Danni. I asked Abby to be there;
I wanted them to all hear the news at once.
Mom had tea and scones for us. After some pleasant small talk, I got to
the point. To say they were surprised would be putting it mildly.
"Does this mean you'll be living as a female full time now?" my dad
asked.
"Pretty much," I said. "In fact, I wanted to know if I could store Daniel
and most of my male clothing here for the time being."
Mom just shook her head and said, "Whatever makes you happy, dear."
When I said this meant I would be coming for Thanksgiving and Christmas
as Danni, Abby got a glint in her eye and a slightly wicked smile. "Ohhh!
No more flopping down in front of the television and watching football
all day! We've got another set of hands in the kitchen now!"
I smiled and nodded, "That's fine with me. You know I'm not much of a
sports fan anyway. And I told Deanna I wanted to learn to cook."
When Thanksgiving arrived, I had to admit I felt a little sorry for my
dad and Abby's boyfriend Steve, and a little jealous at the same time.
The two males were outnumbered by the females, four to two. But maybe
they did get the better end of the deal...waited on hand and foot, no
cooking or cleanup duties. "Hey!" I finally said after bringing dad
another beer. "This is the twenty-fifties, not the nineteen fifties,
right?"
Abby just smiled at me and said, "Welcome to womanhood, sis."
There were moments like that throughout the day. Over dinner, mom got me
talking about the students in my class. I love every one of my students,
but I think that first class will always be special to me. I guess I got
pretty animated and emotional in talking about their personalities and
their progress. Deanna smiled in a very knowing way as I was talking.
When I had finished, I looked at her and said, "What?"
She said: "You sounded just like a young mother taking about her own
children."
That gave me something to ponder.
As Deanna and I settled into making a home together, we found ourselves
in perfect synch on almost everything?tastes in decorating, music, food;
how we wanted to spend our free time; what kind of sex games gave us both
the most pleasure. It was almost frightening how perfectly in synch we
found ourselves.
Even our disputes didn't rise to the level of arguments. One day she
brought home a brochure for a pole dancing class. "It's exercise,
darling," she said.
I had always found the idea of exercise with a surrogate to be a little
bit puzzling. I could see taking a bike trip to enjoy the sights sounds
and smells along the way, but what did you gain in a gym or studio
workout? "And pole dancing? Am I not bringing home my share of the
household budget? Do I need to look at moonlighting?"
I was a bit, well, catty in my reaction to her idea. I didn't want to
listen to anything she had to say about empowerment or self-expression.
But Deanna is very good about getting her way. She did something she
rarely does: she cried. So of course, I gave in. And of course, we both
loved the class.
The last five years have gone by so quickly, and they've been a time of
such bliss. I've continued to grow as a teacher; Deanna has advanced in
her career to the point where Virtual Self has her flying all over the
country doing staff trainings. I miss her when we're apart, but it's made
the reunions all the sweeter.
At least, that's how it was until last week, when the plug was abruptly
pulled on the surrogates.
It's taken days to sort out what happened and why?what drove Dr. Canter
to destroy his creations. I am sure he was in great pain over the loss of
his son. I hope he doesn't know about all the accidental deaths and
suicides that have resulted from his individual grief.
Deanna and I have both been at home since that day. We were so close to
the end of the school year, our district cancelled remaining classes, so
I haven't had to face a classroom as a male?yet. But who knows what's
going to happen? The media and blogosphere have been going crazy with
rumors. The surrogates will be back on line in an hour, a week, a month,
a year, tomorrow, never. You might think I'd have an inside track on
information from Deanna, but the messages she sends tells me she isn't
getting anything definitive from her managers.
I wish I could hold her, I wish I could tell her everything's going to be
OK. But she refuses to emerge from her room. I find myself wondering who
is really behind the door, and what has she chosen to hide from me for
the past five years? I tell her nothing matters; I still love her, but am
only met by silence.
The silence causes me to focus back on myself, and it's an uncomfortable
exercise. Who am I, really? The woman who has gone out into the world for
the past five years, or the man who sits in a stem chair directing her?
Five years ago, if you had told me I would be living and working as a
woman full-time within a matter of months, I would told you such a thing
wasn't possible. But it happened, and I find myself wondering how and
why. I realize I am passive by nature, but there must have been a strong
element of desire that carried me along this path. Will I find a road
back to the life that's been so right for me? Although precious little
seems clear at the moment, I know that some way, somehow, the answer must
be yes.
Dani
- 02.06.2021
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