Note: I apologize in advance to my American cousins for making at least one of the characters in this story English. Alas, I am sad to say, I have done this out of spite and prejudice. It is a poor attempt, on my part, to get my own back for the damage done to the credibility us poor Brits, by Dick Van Dyke and his awful linguistic mangling of our beautiful language when he attempted a Cockney accent for the character Bert, the chimney sweep, in the film Mary Poppins.
If you find the language of the characters difficult I suggest you just pretend to be Mr Van Dyke whilst reading Indie's lines. You won't understand any better but we Brits can all roll about laughing at your attempt. ;)
Angela.

PS "Practically perfect people never permit sentiment to muddle their thinking." --Mary Poppins.

 

Tales From a Hard Drive

by Angela

 

"So 'ow did yer get 'ere then?"

"It might help if I knew where 'here' was!"

"Alrigh' keep yer 'air on!

"Look sorry ... what did you say your name was? - I know you're trying to be helpful but I'm damned if I can work it out."

"Well I can 'elp yer there! Look mate, what if yer tells me where yer was doin' ... y'know, kinda before, like. Most of thems that comes 'ere, y'know sudden like, finds it's best"

"What do you mean 'those that come here suddenly'? Does it happen a lot then?"

"Look mate, I'm only tryin' to help. Why dun' we start from the beginning ... again? Me name's Indie an' it's my job ter see yer OK, an all tha' and ter see you gets put where you belongs. ... So to help me wiv me job. I needs ter know somefink about yer ... alrigh'?"

"All right. But it would help to know where this is, then perhaps I can work out how I got here. And why is it so dark? Am I dead?"

"Nah! Not dead! An' its not a good idea ter tell yer everyfink first off mate. Believe me ... do it my way. I've seen 'undreds like you - all sorts of lost souls they are when theys first comes in 'ere. Dun' know who they is, 'alf of 'em. Nah! So just tell me wha' yer was doing … before like. It'll come ter yer slowly … then an it won' be such a shock. Somes goes off their 'eads in 'ere, thems does."

"But why is it so dark? I can only just make you out from that blue florescent print on your tee shirt."

"'Lectric blue thems calls tha'. Yer'll ge' a tee in a minute. But we have a few fings to sort ou' before then. Know wha' I mean? So like I says tell me what yer were doin' before."

"Well, ... well ... umm ... I think ... well I was on the computer. Yes, on the computer ... in the bedroom. The study my Mother calls it ... "

"Brillian' I knew it would come back ter yer. Always does. Well, nearly always. Anyway get on wiv it. ... Yer in yer Mum's study...."

"Yes, that's right I'm on the computer in her study. I've always disliked that word ... 'study' ... it's just so pretentious don't you think?"

"Would if I knew wha' it meant. Just keep to the facts will yer. Tell me abou' this study then. What can yer see ... what can yer see in yer minds eye?"

I can see .... Well, as I said it's a bedroom. A small bedroom, you know ... a third bedroom in a three bedroom house ... a box really. There's a desk, or is it a bench along one wall? The computer is on that. It's green."

"A green computer?"

"No! Stop interrupting, will you? It's ... it's a green desk. I can see it! And next to the computer on the green desk is a TV. It's on a wall so I can watch ... whatever. There's a tiny stereo next to the computer screen used for Mother's mp3s. Ooh and she uses it to listen to the Archers on Radio 4 too, sometimes."

"Radio 4? The Archers?!!"

"Yes, I quite like them - an every day story of country folk - so they say."

"Get on wiv it! Yer rememberin' ain't yer!"

Yes! Yes I am remembering aren't I? So I'm on the computer ... there's a wardrobe with a single large painted flower on each door that I notice when I first come in. There's a chair of course and ... "

"What's on yer computer screen can yer read it?

"Why is it so dark in here? I can see more blue glow coming from over there. Are there other people over there?"

Yeah! Thems is some of the groups - gangs really they are - you might wanna join when we've got yer sorted out. Anyways can yer read what's on yer screen?"

No I can't read it ... but ... but I think I know what it says. I think ... Oh shit! It's coming back to me. Oh my God! The stuff's about me, there are horrible, untrue things written about me! It says ... it says ... I'm a trans.... I'm a trans ..."

"Transvestite! You're a transvestite! I knew it soon as I saw yer! Least yer in the right place then."

"I'm not a trans ... I am NOT a trans ... whatsit!!"

"Yes you is! Your're a transvestite! Thems all are in here mate! Well nearly all ... you just possibly just might be one of those ... umm ... aah 'trans-sex-uelles'. Quite tasty some of thems are, believe me! Well we'll get you sorted out in a bit, mate. Anyways, yer was sayin' yer a transvestite."

"No I wasn't! I was saying there's something written on the screen that says I'm a trans … vestite." There's a big difference you know. Just because someone puts a label on you doesn't make it true. You seem to like labelling people?"

"Well it's my job init? So if yer not a trannie ... what are yer?"

"I don't know."

D'yer know why someone says yer a trannie?"

"No. .... What did you say your name was?"

"Indie."

"Look Indie, I think the stuff says I like dressing as a girl."

"Yer fink? Yer must know if yer likes it or not?"

"But I don't ... honest Indie. Are you an Indian is that why your name's Indie"

"Nah! Nofink so crass mate! I was always called Indie right from the start. I was the first one here I was. I live down that track over there. Prime position it is where I live! I can see everyone tha' comes and goes. My job's to help you find yer own place, an' 'elp sort out the folks you'd like to be wiv while yer 'ere."

"'While I'm here' ...do you mean I can go back?"

"Nah! No going back. Best ter go forwards. We only goes forward round 'ere. But we gets in quite a spin sometimes with all thems comins and goins. Quite a spin!"

"Well can I go forwards out of here, Indie?"

"'Fraid that's not up to me, little 'un. Now why don't yer tell me about when you first dressed as a girl? ... That's wha' yer 'ere for really ... to tell yer story like. Tell you what! To get yer started on yer tale … about dressing an 'at ... why dun' I take yer to meet somes of the others in here and yer can ask a bit about their stories, y'know how thems got started? Was theys forced, blackmailed or trapped? Did they have a wicked sister, bruvver or muvver. Did thems have time on their 'ands, an' was they left alone in the house. So many tales! Them's all different but there again them is all the same ... if y'know wha' I mean?

Come on ... over here. Be quick! Mind that track ... it's full And watch that sector gap! If a bit of you ends up in there y're dead meat! Come on over 'ere but CAREFULLY!

Now from 'ere yer can see much, much more. This is the 'ub of fings. Now yer can see how it's all laid out can't yer? See all them ring roads? An' there's lots of groups camped along side 'em. Y'know all those electric blue glows over there.. in that big bunch ... can yer see 'em? And those over there? ... Look! Can yer see em?"

"Ye ... s, just?"

"Well, little un, they're a gang called the 'Doms' - best avoid them if yer possibly can - they just like runnin' everfink and everyone. But tha's where I wus clever, see? I put 'em next door to the 'Subs'. Now Subs LIKE being told wha' ter do!! So the Doms and the Subs get on famously and theys don't bovver me. Doms can be a bit of a mixture, see ... some gay men who dun' like to admit it, y'know what I mean? And some Dom lesbie women who just love having power over poor weak effeminate little boys - so watch yer don't get caught 'ere young 'un. The Subs are trannies - y'know transvestites, kinda like, who like bein' pretend women an' just love bein' told what ter do and havin' their botties spanked. Some likes havin' weights 'ung from their doodahs! Urgh!! Let's get a bit closer an' I can read some bits of a tale for yer. See if it takes yer fancy like ... here yer go! Ready?"

************************************

Agatha entered the room to find Robin sobbing, still curled on the bed wearing the sensuous satin and lace creation she had forced him into earlier. He was bound and but not gagged. "Roll over and let me look at you, sissy!" Agatha commanded, standing gloating, as the archetypal PVC-clad dominatrix she was. Robin, fearful of crossing her again and the punishment that might ensue, rolled over on his back as she commanded. Unfortunately, for Robin, he revealed his member to be rising to attention. Agatha's eyes almost imperceptibly flicked to take in his tumescence in the burgandy-coloured laced-edged panties she had dressed him in last evening. But quickly her eyes moved on to the soft rising swell of his breasts. She always started with their breasts. "My!" Said Agatha, "That bra looks good on me but on you it is wicked. Even with you lying on your back, dear, I can see that my pop-up, push-up creation is doing wonders for you. You love it don't you my sweet baby?"

Almost unspeakable humiliation had been caused Robin the previous evening when Agatha had dressed him in her silky underwear, bound him and carried him like a small, helpless soft toy into the bedroom. She had told him that anyone pretending to be a man with such a small 'cockette', as she insisted on calling it, was doomed to spend his days as her servant and that his cockette was to be removed - "so your panties will fit better, sweet baby", she had said. With her return, Robin was once again reminded of what a helpless wimp he was. "I see baby likes the idea of not having his cockette messing the line of his dear little panties. Would you like me to play with it one more time, my darling little baby girl?" she asked.

"I dont think I want to hear any more of this, Indie" Why are Doms so hurtful to Subs and how can having to wear girls panties in such awful conditions give anyone a boner?

"A boner, eh? Well! Now yer askin' somefink ain't yer? See what I didn't really explain t'yer, is that mixed in pretty close with Doms and Subs, is a group of infiltrators. Bloody infiltrators! I can't seem to separate 'em out. They runs me ragged thems does!"

"Whats an 'infiltrator' Indie? And why don't the Doms and Subs do something about them?"

"Who are they?" They're the S&M gang that's who - sadomasochists the lot of 'em - bit loony if yer ask me. But it's wha' ever turns yer on I 'spose."

"S-a-d-o-m-a-s-o-c-h-i-s-t ?"

Sadomasochist littl'un? Oh no! Not so 'little' now! Yer've got bigger sudden like.

Nah! Nah! I dun' mean tha'! Take that stoopid grin off yer face! I dun' do innuendo! Wha' I mean is tha' ALL of yers grown since yer arrived ain't it? Not sure where I'm gonna put yer now.

Anyways, as I was saying - sadomasochists are people who like givin' an' receivin' pain; tha's mental pain as well as the usual kind y'understand. Anyways mos' times a sadomasochist gets to be a pretty complex character as 'ey grow up. An' 'ey sort of gets mixed up with the Doms or Subs. So is a Dom mainly a Dom or mainly a Sado (tha's a pain giver - got it)? Or is a Sub mainly a Sub or mainly a Maso? Strewth! I can't sort 'em ou'. So I just let 'em get on wiv it, keeps away from 'em and minds my own business I does ... know what I mean?

You clearer now littl'un? Shall we move on? Come on, jump over this segment. I'll take you somewhere I fink you'll fit quite nicely. Here cop a load of this! Pin yer lugg'oles back ... I'll read yer some more."

**************************************

Daren hastened away from 'Victoria`s Secret' anxious to try out his new purchases. The clerk in the shop had smiled alluringly at him as she rang up his treasures. He had bought a dozen sumptuously, seductively feminine silk bra and panty sets; a black heavily laced and boned corset that promised to reduce his already tiny waist to a mere whisper of 18 inches and three of the most gorgeous peignoirs one could ever hope to own. For a woman it would be heaven for Daren it promised bliss! He was a fortunate boy, having been born with genes that predisposed him to be the svelte like creature he was. The clerk smiled at him and lisped breathlessly, "I've written my phone number on the back of the receipt ... call me ... if you want anything … anything at all!"

Daren walked along the mall and entered the first shoe shop he came to, without hesitation. He was walking on air buoyed by the expectations of soon trying out his new underwear. He sat in the ladies section and waited for the clerk. Daren explained his sister's need for a new pair of black court shoes with a 5 inch heels, size 11 double E fitting, and how miraculously he just happened to have exactly the same foot measurements as hers so he could make sure they would fit his sister. The clerk beamed her pleasure at serving such a kind, considerate, generously spirited young man and sped off to search the stock room for the commonplace every-day shoes that Daren had requested he buy his sister.

The clerk returned almost immediately clutching a shoe fetishist's orgy in her hands. "Would you like to try these on Hon?" She asked him. She fetched a new pair of sheer nylon foot stockings and told Daren to slip them on instead of his own woollen socks. He did so and gently eased his feet into the delicate but magnificent high heels. "Walk a ways up the shop Hon and make sure your Sis will like them." Daren did just that. He walked effortlessly in the heels as if he had been born with them on. "I'll take them", he announced.

Rushing to let himself in to his immaculate loft apartment, Daren sped to his 'special' dressing room. He stripped and quickly ran a bath luxuriating in the heavy scent of expensive perfume and bath oils. He had no need to shave ... anywhere ... ever. Drying and talcing himself with increasing urgency he expertly donned the saucy black full-cupped silk 40DD bra. He reached to his dressing table and clasped the silicone inserts he had already purchased from a well-known web site catering to the needs of cross-dressers. The garter belt was next. It sat prettily about him with the stocking clips competing with each other to gently caress the smooth cheeks of his well-rounded ass as they dangled languidly down. He sat on the bed and correctly eased a gossamer fine stocking up each leg, just as he had read about so often in the soft porn fiction of which he was so fond. Once the stockings were clipped to his garter belt he marvelled at the feelings almost overwhelming him. Why were only women supposed to wear such glorious clothing? He could not be a pervert for just wanting to feel what women do. Could he be? No! Quickly dismissing such thoughts from his mind he stepped into the tight fitting panties. He eased his member back between his voluptuous thighs and pushed his seedpods up and inside himself. The panties held him in place perfectly. When he looked down he saw the unmistakeable soft undulations of a woman's delta. Suddenly feeling a woman's need for modesty he ran his arms into the soft draping peignoir and let it fall about him. Finally, and before he dare look at himself in the wall-to-wall mirror doors he slipped his Cinderella-like feet into his 5 inch heels.

Now he was ready! Or should he use the female pronoun when describing himself. Deciding "yes" and quickly choosing to call herself Andrea when like this, she gathered her senses. Her member, somewhere deeply buried below, strained to be free. She slowly lifted her eyes and feasted on what she saw. Long fine, but full, blond hair cascaded like a waterfall about her shoulders. Her skin was the texture of fine porcelain, full luscious, deep-throating lips sat expectantly beneath a pert small delightfully turned up nose. She took it all in; her face, her hips the feel of the silk and gossamer nylon, the sweet delicate perfume that gently hung about her. Slowly she opened the peignoir and let her delicate hand reach into her panties. Her searching fingers expertly retrieved her member and she creamed instantly. In what like seemed like forever load after load of spermatozoa, swimming for their lives, pulsed from her and soaked into her beautiful silken underwear."

************************************

"He looked back at 'imself in the mirror, but this time with wiv an overwhelmin' feelin' of loathin'. He ripped all that was girlish from 'im and dived for the shower to clean away all the crap".

"Does it really say that last bit, Indie? Did she, did he, did he really rip all those lovely things off? I wouldn't have!"

"Aargh! The mist clears even more, as they say little 'un! Nah! tha' last bit ... well, not bits - bytes really or data words moreover, thems were mine. Sorry, but all thems clichιs in 'ere make yer a bit cynical after a while. Anyways … Yer see wha' you have here is yer Fetis infiltrated wiv yer Perfs. And before yer ask ... a Perf is all very unlikely ... They don't 'alf con themselves Perfs do."

"But, but ... "

"I'm explainin' so don't interrupt little'un. Christ! Look at yer! Yer've grown again! I really dunno where I'm going to put you. Anyways ... A Feti always has bags and bags of new underwear an' stuff, an' impossibly high heeled shoes, or kinky little PVC or leather numbers. Quite few like women's uniforms - Army an' Navy y'know, and French Maids, especially French Maids! What they likes ter do is ter get all dolled-up in the stuff, walk around a bit ... and wank. They wank usually as soon as they see themselves. Can't help it see. But old hands can keep goin' a bit longer.

Dun' smirk I told yer I dun' do innuendo!

What the stories don't tell yer tho' is that as soon as all these Feti wankers jerk off, thems usually gets ter hate 'emselves for doin' it in the first place. All that pleasure gets trumped by loads of grief. Yeah, loads of grief!"

"Oh I see. I don't want that!"

"'Course yer don't. Nah! You got to be true to yerself but yer've also got ter be true to life. Yeah, tha's it 'true to life!' That's where the Perfs fall down. Tha' last story had a bit of Perf in it. Perfs are simply perfec' - or fink they are. It's never a story about a balding guy of 60 somefink with a beard shadow that looks like a rice paddy and a beer gut that must have run up the national debt to buy. Nah, yers perfs always are too small to be men but just perfec' to be women. Everythin' about them is ... well, perfec'. Shapely legs instead of chicken drumsticks; narrow waist instead of fat falling over a belt; pert breasts on a hairless chest instead of .. well yer gets it don't yer? Who are they trying to kid? Who are they fuckin' trying to kid? Look around you what do yer see here? Oh! Sorry! Forgot you can't read can yer?"

"There's nothing to read is there? All I can see are some feint blue circles and lines in the road."

"Circles an' lines in the road? I'll 'ave yer know thems circles an 'em lines are some of the finest binary digits in 'ere ... I put 'em there meself!"

"But what about the Fetis? Should I stay with them?"

"If you'll take my advice, nah. Most Fetis are all right but they are pretty self-contained and don't seem to want friends. They spend most of their time in a cycle of dressing up, wankin', cleanin' up an' recoverin'. But they only tell yer to yer face about the dressin' up bit and the wank - they call it waves of pleasure. You didn't see tha' Daren/Andrea whatsit phone tha' shop assistan' and ask 'er out, did yer?"

"Oh! The one in Victoria's Secret ... No! He didn't did he? I would have! I imagined she was nice!"

"Oh! yer liked her did yer? So yer not gay then ... or there again ...?"

"No, I like girls, but ... but I get jealous of them! I want to be a girl. Mum's written some stuff on the computer about me that says I should have been born a girl but I don't look very much like one. .... Indie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. I mean ... thank you for helping find out about ... about what I am doing here. I think I know now. ... I feel more complete, more whole, you know, than when I first arrived?"

" Well that's it init little 'un? You hadn't all arrived! Only the first bits of yer were 'ere. Let me look at yer now yer've completely uploaded. Eerh ..yer looks about 20k ter me ... CR check … OK … yep! Close enough! I think I've got just the right place for yer. A few loonies but nice ones ... and of course, Harry Benjamin helps me keep the infiltrators out."

"But Indie? I'm here! But I'm not alive! What am I going to do?"

"There there, littl'un! It's one 'ell of a jolt init, realizing that yer only a character in a story and that yer Mum, of all people, has uploaded you to a foreign hard-drive somewhere? But yer'll come alive alrigh'. What wiv all thems imaginative readers ou' there, login on every day. You'll live alrigh'!

'Ere now just slip on this tee shirt before we go - 'sgot a big blue TS on the front. An' wipe yer eyes now. Tha's it. Now don't yer look a grand lass?

Come on! I'll read yer story back as we run along these tracks ... ready?"

  

  

  

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