The Computer Programmer by AncientDruid

January 14th.

Dear Diary

I have just won a large sum of money on the lottery. After me and the girls going out for a drink, I have enough money to buy a new television and have a computer built for me. I want the latest technology. With the money I have saved and the value of my house, I can sit down and write some books. Perhaps I am another J.K. Rowling! I won’t know until I try. < Tight Pantyhose. Tighter Bondage!

I have decided to move. With the value of my house and the extra money from the win, I can get a nice cottage in the country. So this afternoon I am off to look for a cottage.

Well, I have been along to all the estate agents and have found a most delectable cottage. I want peace and quiet and plenty of fresh air, and perhaps I can knock out a few good stories. No interruptions from passing salesmen or religious fanatics.

March 2nd.

Today I viewed the cottage today, fell in love with it and put a deposit on it.

March 15th.

I put my house up for sale. I soon decided that I would start afresh and dump all my old clothes as well and buy some new dresses. I have lost weight and I am now a petite size twelve. It took me some time to get to this state, but I am there at last.

March 17th.

Sold my house today. It holds a lot of memories for me, but I can feel that this new cottage will mean a change in my life.

July 18th.

Today is the big day when I move into my cottage. I have told my friends I will contact them when I was settled in. But now I needed to put my stamp on the cottage. I decorated it from top to bottom and had the place rewired. All I need now is a television and a computer. So I look in the yellow pages for a computer expert. I found one and phoned him.

July 20th.

The computer engineer turned up exactly on time as we had arranged. That makes a change. I got fed up with ordering things and having to sit indoors all day waiting for people to deliver something and they turn up late or in some cases, not at all. But he is rather handsome. I wonder if he is spoken for?

I explained what I wanted and he told me that he could arrange things a bit better for me. I told him of my budget for the television and computer and he told me that he could get a better system if I allowed him to organise it. I looked at his plan and agreed. If I did away with the monitor and used the digital television instead, and used the computer as my DVD player and recorder, I could have a massive memory on the computer and other gubbings of which I did not understand, so I went along with it. After all, I would not be working on the computer while watching television would I?

July 27th

The computer engineer turned up with the set up. I had digital surround sound installed as well. This was the Rolls Royce of computer and television set ups. I love the sound and the performance of the computer is phenomenal. And I don’t need a mass of compact discs hanging around. Everything is stored on my computer. The CD’s are in the attic. All I have is the 30 DVD’s the computer programmer made for me. I know they are illegal, but who cares? I don’t.

Tonight is my first night of being able to relax and watch the television. It is a thirty two inch digital television. I can get several pages up on the screen at once when I use it as my computer monitor. But tonight is a glass of white wine or two and a box of chocolates and as there is nothing worth watching, I will watch “Titanic” That heavenly Leonardo di Caprio can call round any time he wants. I envy Kate Winslet. They should have let me play the part of Rose. I would wear the corset without any problem. Well, I suppose I would, I have never seen the sense in wearing one myself. It is the same as all the girly magazines on the top shelf of the paper shop where I used to live. How could anyone want to wear a complete second skin of latex or rubber? Brrr. It makes me shiver at the thought of those weirdo’s. Come to that, why would anyone want to be tied up or be handcuffed? As for being wrapped up like a mummy and unable to move, well, they deserve to be locked away!

I open the wine and pour out the first glass. I stand the bottle in the ice bucket and open my box of chocolates. The film is just running through the initial set up. “This move is not allowed on this DVD at present” Hmm. I have to sit and watch all that crap and adverts, oh well, let me see. Ah, a nice Turkish delight centre chocolate. Mmmm. This is my favourite centre.

The film starts, so turn out the lights and sit and watch the film. Three hours go by and I find tears in my eyes. What a sad story. I have never seen the film before. Of course I knew the boat hits an iceberg, but what a lovely love story.

Oh well, it is time for bed. I have a lovely feeling after watching that film. I snuggled down under the duvet and soon fell fast asleep.

July 28th.

I had a strange dream last night. I dreamt I was on the Titanic with Jack. I stood at the front of the ship as Rose did. But instead of dreaming of those wonderful clothes, I dreamed I was encased from head to toe in rubber. Strange that. I have never even thought about wearing rubber. That is too weird for me. I wonder why I dreamt this. Oh well, maybe it was just a silly dream after all. But it seemed so vivid.

Tonight there is nothing on the box again so I will watch Dirty Dancing. I wish I could dance like Jennifer Grey. To be held tight in the arms of Patrick Swayze is a dream no girl can resist.

July 29th.

I watched the film last night, but got drowsy. I just about managed it although I did have a couple of times where I fell asleep. For some reason, buying a pair of handcuffs keeps creeping into my brain. I have never even seen any handcuffs, let alone buy some. Oh well, perhaps this is me just kicking out ideas in my new surroundings.

Shopping in the city, I came across a shop with all sorts of items in the window. Replica guns, swords and there at the front, is a pair of handcuffs. I walked away, but for some reason had to return to the window and look at them again. This happened four times. Eventually I went inside and bought a pair. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know. I have no idea, but something inside my head kept telling me that I should get some.

Got home, sat down, slipped handcuffs on wrists and locked them. I could see no reason for them being there and I removed them. I don’t know what people get out of wearing them.

Tonight I will watch “Pirates of the Caribbean” with Johnny Depp. He can sweep me up and carry me off any time.

July 30th.

Had a dream I was wearing a latex hobble skirt that was locked on and I could not remove it. Johnny Depp was tormenting me with the key to the lock. I can’t imagine me in a hobble skirt. I have only just found out what they are, it was not a bad dream, just weird. Johnny slung me over his shoulder and carried me off to his secret lair.

Spent the day painting and decorating the kitchen. Every now and then the dreams I had kept creeping into my head.

Sat down to watch “Ghost”.

July 31st.

Dreamt I was in a shop selling all sorts of weird clothes. Leonardo, Johnny and Patrick were serving in the shop. They were naked down to the waist. I could not leave the shop with them standing there dressed like that.

Tonight is “Braveheart” night. Mel Gibson. I would throw myself at him whenever he wants me to.

August 1st.

What a dream last night. I was wearing the rubber all in one suit with the hobble skirt and my hands handcuffed behind my back. I could not walk very far, the four guys were taking turns to pick me up and put me back where I had started from. I woke up this morning feeling rather frustrated. Am I turning weird? Perhaps I should see a doctor.

Tonight is the turn of Rob Roy. Liam Neeson will let me know I am okay and not turning peculiar.

August 2nd.

Today I woke up with the sensation that I was being commanded by Liam to go and buy a ball gag and a blindfold.

I finished the painting and decided to go for a walk while it dried. I found myself in the city. I came across this shop with blacked out windows and felt compelled to enter the shop. I have never seen anything like it. There was whips, chains, manacles, handcuffs, some things like a horses bit, balls with straps on. Rubber and latex outfits were on display rails and hanging from the ceiling were some rubber straightjackets. I quickly walked away from that shop.

August 6th.

I watched another film last night. I find I can’t stop thinking about that shop of weird items.

I started my story that I always wanted to write.

August 15th.

I dreamt I was back in that shop once more.

I found myself buying a latex catsuit. It I tried to stop. Three times I changed my mind and three times, I changed it back again and carried on purchasing it.

I found I had to go to a hairdresser and have all my head shaved. I tried again to stop it, but my feet would not obey my will. Once that was done, I went back and got into the cat suit. I then chose a latex hobble skirt that locked on. I didn’t want it. For some strange reason, I “needed” it and badly.

I bought another pair of handcuffs. And as an afterthought I bought a real high-heeled pair of shoes that locked on. Why I bought these items, I have no idea. I just had to have them.

The girls in the shop helped me. They put some powder into the catsuit. It was too tight really but I managed to get into it. The hood came over my head and the girls settled it n place. I looked in the mirror and saw that the catsuit showed every lump and bump on my body. I left nothing to the imagination where my legs met. My nipples were hardened by the cold latex. I woke up in a sweat.

September 1st.

I watched Titanic once more last night. I love this film. But again I have this urge to see what this rubber thing is all about. I could see me in that rubber catsuit once more. This is getting ridiculous.

September 12th.

The computer engineer brought me another 30 DVD’s I have enough to see me through the winter.

September 30th.

I have watched all the first lot of films now and I have this strange urge to tie myself up. Am I going completely mad? What with that and the rubber outfits and the occasional urge to sit there watching the flames from the fire reflect on the ceiling while I have my hands handcuffed in front of me. What is taking over my life? I have never had these thoughts before.

October 2nd.

I have finished my story at last. Last night I watched one of the new batch of films. Love Story. I sat and cried. It is so lovely. But now I am getting thoughts of having to go to that shop. They won’t leave me alone. I will fight them.

October 11th.

It is no good. I found myself outside the shop with the weird things in it once more. I have decided that the only way to beat this craze is to go through it and get it over and done with.

I have been to a hairdresser and had my hair shaved off. I arrived back at the shop to find the assistants standing round with nothing to do. I purchased a shiny black latex one piece catsuit. The assistants sprinkle talc in it while I strip. I stepped into it and pushed my feet right down into the legs. My feet reach the toes of the cat suit. I put my arms out and the assistants fed them into the arms. My fingers reach the fingertips of the gloves that are built into the suit. The head piece is pulled over my head and smoothed down. I feel the zip being pulled up encapsulating my body in this latex prison. My nipples react to the coldness of the latex. The zip around the neck was pulled tight and my catsuit had become one. Looking in the full length mirror I could see only my eyes and nostrils. There is only a shape of a pair of lips. There is no mouthpiece. Like in the dream, I could see everything of my body.

I write on paper that I want them to lock the zips up, and not give me the keys. They oblige me. A posture collar is put round my neck covering the neck zip up. This is locked in place. The collar comes right under my chin so I cannot look down or right or left. I can’t lift my head too high either.

A black rubber hobble skirt is produced and I wrote I want it. A pair of high heeled shoes came next and I agreed to buy them. The assistants put the shoes on my feet and locked them in place. The hobble skirt was put on me. It came down to just showing the points of my shoes. I could only step nine inches at a time. This was locked on me. For some reason, I wrote my address and asked them to send the locks along with my clothes to my house. I paid for the items and put my card in with the clothes. One of the assistants wrapped them up, added some cream to make the latex and rubber shine and rushed out to catch the last post from the post office. I was now stuck. I tried to say goodbye, but was unable to make audible speech.

I wandered out into the sunshine. People stopped and stared at me. I must look a sight. I struggled along the road. Suddenly it hit me. This is not a dream. I tried to scream, but people just stepped away from me like I was mad. It took me two hours to reach home. The only good thing about it, no one could possibly know who was inside this flexible prison.

I reached home to find my keys were in my own clothes. I have to sit and wait until the postman arrives with my parcel. This is going to get a bit awkward. Fortunately, I remembered the computer engineer telling me he had put a spare key in a safe that looked like a rock. I found the safe and retrieved the key. I was about to go in when the computer engineer turned up.

“Wow, is that you in there?” Of course it is me. Who does he think it is? Joan of Arc? The complete moron. But I cannot say anything intelligible. I sat down and he put a DVD on for me. I fell asleep halfway through it.

I woke up to find him gone. The parcel was there with my clothes and the keys to the locks. On the table were some forms. I knew I had to sign them. I could not stop myself. The forms were to transfer all my money into his bank account and to transfer the house into his name. I tried to fight it, but was unable. I knew I had to sign the form. The last form was for me to agree to become his slave and accept my fate at his hands. I quickly signed this one too. I have no idea why I signed these forms. Something compelled me to.

November 1st.

I watched another film last night. I have to get ready to go. I have to say goodbye to my cottage and go to my place of enslavement. Wait a moment. What am I saying? I don’t want to be a slave. So why am I removing all of my clothes?

I got ready. The latex catsuit and hobble skirt, posture collar and shoes are all carefully locked in place. I cannot remove them. I have no idea where I put the keys to the locks. This will be my last entry into my diary. I have a voice recorder attached to my throat so I can make comments. I hope they will be audible and not just a complete mass of “mmphs”.

Goodbye dear diary. Goodbye dear cottage. Goodbye old friends. Goodbye old lifestyle. The next entry will be typed by my master, what the hell, I don’t want to do this, but I have to. It would seem I have been programmed to do a preset task.

This has been typed by the master. Fortunately, the microphone I bought was the best and it picked up the slightest sound she made. I can transcribe it.

I left the cottage and taking the keys to the door with me, I struggle the three miles to my new place of abode. Perhaps I should not have sent those letters to my friends saying I was leaving the country and I would not be in contact for some time. Perhaps they will forget me.

The nine inch steps I can take are a nuisance. I cannot run. Everyone is staring at me. But at least they do not know it is me. I cannot look down as the posture collar is holding my chin up. To even look sideways, I have to turn my body.

It was heavy going up the hill. The latex is clinging to me thanks to the way I am sweating. But I turned into a long driveway. Gates swung open for me and I continued up to the house. I rang the doorbell and the door opened.

I cannot see who it is as his face is covered by a mask. Without a word he beckoned me inside. I enter the halls and saw the keys to the padlocks. My master undid them for me. I removed all the latex. He led me into the shower and I have to have a thorough cleaning session. I cannot figure out why I am allowing this to happen to me.

I step out of the shower, dried myself and follow my master into a large room. It is covered in thick black rubber. Out of these rubber coverings, there are pipes from top to bottom. It looks like there are girls trapped behind the rubber like they have been wallpapered onto the walls.

This part I have transcribed. There is a built in microphone that I turn off when I am satisfied. My slave is aware of this.

I saw a space and stood against the wall. This was covered in rubber, but had no lumps in it or pipes. My master lifts a large sheet of black rubber up. There are pipes fitted through the sheet and it is being stretched by a wooden frame. I open my legs involuntarily and pipes are inserted into my orifices. I stretch my arms wide apart so I am standing spread eagled. I closed my legs on the pipes holding the pipes tightly within me. The sheet is pushed up to me and I allow a pipe to enter my mouth. My nose is covered but my nostrils are clear. As the sheet goes up, all covers my face and all goes black.

I hear a pump start and the rubber is pulled viciously onto my body pressing me tighter against the wall. It is then I discover the rubber has two layers. The black one is peeled back to reveal a slight opening for my eyes so I can see what is going on. I look round and see four pairs of eyes looking at me from the other side of the room. The rubber does conceal more girls. I wonder how long they have been here. How long will he keep me here like this?

The master leaves the room and the lights go out. I hear the door being locked. A light comes on that light the room up in an eerie blue light. I guess it is an Ultra Violet lamp.

Over the days, my waste is removed and I am fed and watered through the tubes. I still cannot move.

A few weeks go by and a television screen lights up. It is some girl’s house. She is pretty. She is having a demonstration of a new computer and television set up like I had.

I watched with the other girls for weeks as she went about her daily chores. He must have put a secret camera to watch her in the monitor stroke TV set. Which means he must have been watching me all the time. Oh my God. We watched her walk about naked at times.

It came as no surprise when she started to try out bondage. It is happening to her exactly what happened to me. I “mmph” but of course, she cannot hear me. But we can hear her. The other girls “mmph” as a reply to me.

Oh no, she is now in a latex catsuit with a tight hobble skirt. She is leaving the house. I guess she will soon be joining us. It is not knowing how long we will be here like this that is getting to me. The uncertainty is more painful than the bondage. Oh God, the master has come back in and has just put the cover back up over my eyes. I cannot see the other girls’ eyes or anything. Grmmmph! This rubber is making it hard work trying to move my limbs. It is taking every ounce of strength I have just to move an arm.

The computer programmer's side of the story

I make my living by setting up computer and television sets. If a girl is wealthy and lives alone, I set up everything using the television as a monitor for the computer. I can watch my victim through the camera hidden on the set. If only they knew at the time.

I give the girls some DVD’s. But they are copies. These are special copies I have doctored. I have arranged it that once a minute the film is interrupted for a tenth of a nano second for a suggestion probing their minds to eventually allowing them the wish to try bondage and bestow all their worldly goods to me. After all, they will not need them anymore.

Everything they do is through subliminal suggestion from these DVD’s. It works well for me. Even when my victim is walking all trussed up in her latex catsuit and hobble skirt I am safe. Who could describe who they saw walking towards my house? Only their eyes and nostrils are showing. It could be anybody in that outfit. I have purchased the same outfit for myself and if the police do call round, I can say it was me they saw. They may think I am weird, but at least they will not bother to look for my secret.

As they purchase the stuff themselves, who can connect me with them? I now have five victims and I am working on my sixth. The last one wrote a book and that is doing well. There is a mystery where she has got to. This happens, but after about three months, the story loses interest and people give up looking. Their money goes into one of my many bank accounts. They cannot be traced to me either. I have seen to that. All the victims have donated their money and property to me. That is why I am comfortably well off without having to work too hard.

I love going into the room every day to see how my victims are faring in their permanent new residences. I shall never let them out. I have DVD’s I made of them when they had the monitors in their houses. They will always look like that to me, no matter how old and wrinkly they get. I love running my hands over their bodies. The rubber is nice and shiny and ultra slippery.

Maybe one day, I will give them a treat and turn the vibrators on. But not yet, they don’t deserve it. One day I might possibly relent. But they will never see the light of day again. Oh well, it is time to turn off that last victims microphone. That is the only problem. Whatever she mumbles, the rest can hear her. I want them all in a silent world of their own. I love it when they realise they are never going to get free. They struggle against the vacuum sealed rubber. But they are unable to move. The non return valves are the best. Once the air is dragged out of their cocoons, I switch the pump off and it leaves them in silence.

Very soon I shall need a bigger house. Then I can re-arrange my captives around the walls of my lounge so I may watch the living rubber wallpaper, struggling away trying to escape, whenever I want to. I love watching them writhe against the wall, all hopelessly lost to everyone except me. The way the rubber moves with their shapes, catching the light as they try to move. Their soft grunts as the push against the rubber, knowing it will not give. But they still try. I love that, their persistence in attempting the impossible and trying to escape.

I think that will be the time to redesign the pipes so they are all concealed within the walls and save spoiling the beauty of their outlines pressed hard against the walls and the all enveloping rubber. I will have a house built to my specifications.

Oh look, in the paper, a girl of twenty one has just won the lottery. I wonder if she wants a television and computer?