Darya Shevchenko had been a mud-wrestling champion since she was eighteen and would win every match she had to participate in. Then one day, she retired, opting to go to college, where she met a hockey champion named Andrei Baskov and then they had been dating since. Then a couple of years eventually passed and they got engaged and were set to marry each other in six months.
Then one day, Darya was polishing her mud-wrestling trophies when she discovered a strange-looking locker inside her apartment.
What’s this thing doing here?, she thought. I guess this must have my mud-wrestling gear inside, so I’ll probably check it out.
Then as she stepped into the locker to investigate, the door suddenly snapped shut, trapping her inside.
”HEY, WHAT’S THE BIG IDEA?!” Darya yelled.
”AUTO-CLOSET ON,” the feminine robotic voice suddenly said.
”WHAT?! NO!!!” Darya screamed prior to banging on the door, despite its refusal to open. “Let me out! Let me out!”
“TRANQUILIZE THE TARGET,” the voice called again.
”Wait, what?” Darya gulped in horror as the port above her opened, during which the metallic eye frame slowly dropped over her face; afterwards, it flashed bright lights, sending her into a very placid and peaceful trance, during which the Tchaikovsky song called “Waltz of the Flowers” began playing.
”TARGET TRANQUILIZED,” the voice droned again. “DISROBE THE TARGET.”
Then several robotic arms arrived to strip her sweatshirt, sweatpants, socks and slippers until she was left with her pink lace panty.
”TARGET DISROBED,” the voice called out once more. “DRESS THE USER NOW.”
As if on cue, more arms arrived with a soft pink dress that was cinched at the waist; it had glittering red strawberries all over the outer tulle layer in addition to short puffed sleeves, a plunging V-neckline and two soft pink ribbons around the cinched waist and matching ruffles gracing the neckline, sleeves and skirt hemline, respectively. A few more arms also arrived to curl her waist-length brown hair into elegant ringlets in addition to applying blush and lipstick to her beautiful face. More arms also came and slipped a pair of red ballet flats onto her feet.
As the machine was dressing her, Darya was shown different flashes of young women wearing dresses and aprons and doing mundane tasks, suck as cooking, cleaning and child-rearing and yet they all looked happy. Darya suddenly felt jealous of those happy young women, for she wanted to be one of them.
Just then, a loving and motherly tone played over said images and, thus, became a mantra for her newly tranquil mind, which just made her smile softly.
“WIVES MUST BE HAPPY AND LOYAL. WIVES MUST MAKE THEIR HUSBAND HAPPY. WIVES MUST BE DOCILE AND SWEET. WIVES MUST SERVE THEIR MEN WITH JOY."
Yes, that would be so wonderful, Darya thought dreamily as her love for mud-wrestling disappeared and was replaced with her love for cooking and cleaning. Andrei and I are getting married soon and he doesn’t need a dirty, slimy mud-wrestler for a wife. What he needs instead is a sweet, happy lady to support him unconditionally. I must be that happy lady for him.”
Just then, the door of the Stepfordization Auto-Closet finally opened and out came Darya in her beautiful dress. She then removed the hardware, revealing dull pink eyes that only reflected domestic bliss. Then she gracefully floated over to the mirror and yet after she happily twirled in her dress, she suddenly looked at the clock.
”Oh my!” she gasped prior to giggling. “Andrei’s about to come home soon! I need to make some nice, warm dinner for him or else my name isn’t Darya Baskov.”
Afterwards, she skipped over to the kitchen prior to cooking dinner.
Later that evening, the front door opened to reveal Andrei Baskov, who was pulling the door open.
”Hey, Dasha,” he shouted as he then stepped inside and closed the door prior to putting away his hockey gear. “My coach held me up, but I still made it in time. You haven’t overworked yourself today, have you? Huh? Dasha?”
”Oh, Andrei,” a sweet voice suddenly called out and then Andrei was shocked to see Darya wearing a dress and holding a pot of stew.
”Dasha!” Andrei gasped, “why are you wearing a dress?”
”Dresses are what proper young women should wear,” Darya giggled. “Now sit tight for dinner. I made you your favorite zharkoye stew and some apple pie. That’s the perfect meal before we try having a child one day.”
”Did you give yourself a concussion with your moonsault?” Andrei asked in a confused tone of voice without any clue of what was happening, with Darya laughing back as if he made a silly joke.