Owning Olivia

A brunette girl sat on her knees, trembling as she waited in front of the door to her home. Her heart raced, threatening to leap out of her mouth as she chewed on her lip. He was going to be here any moment. He'd promised. He'd agreed to her offer. Now all he had to do was come here and take possession of her...

The girl's mind raced back over the recent months, over each choice and word that had led her to this point. Merely three months ago, she had been "Lucy Pongrace" when she had been working as a nurse, living in a small house her parents had left her when they had unfortunately passed away young in an accident. Lucy, absolutely destroyed by their loss, had been driven to grief and had begun reaching out for affection in all the wrong places. Having always been a bit of a kinkster in her own right, "experimenting" with girls in her college, trying out fetish clubs now and then, even doing a cam session with a few internet strangers here and there, she had known where she would find people willing to lend an ear as she dealt with the loss of her parents.

And that was when he had come along. He gave her an earworm of a suggestion. "Become someone else and it will help you forget all of your pain."

It sounded insane at first. It sounded insane at second, too. But as Lucy went to bed sobbing, she couldn't stop turning it over in her head. She'd lay in bed, rolling back and forth as she ached inside. Long enough that she'd forgo using the restroom at times, prompting her to acquire some adult diapers just to stay in bed longer. The nurse knew it wasn't healthy, succumbing like this... but what else could she do?

Become someone else.

The idea plagued her mind as she suffered from her misery and, in what was maybe a bad idea, she reached out to that stranger one day.

[What do you mean 'become someone else?']

He explained it quite simply. Give up being whoever you are, become someone else. Adopt a new name, new purpose, new role in life. Forget everything you were, become someone new. Then, what would you have to mourn?

She'd lashed out at him in anger for his candid, disrespectful comments and suggestions. Vowed to never speak to him again, spit on the very ground before him. He said he respected her decision but, if she ever wished to take his suggestion seriously, reach out to him.

That was in January, a month after her parents' accident. Lucy continued to struggle with her depression, taking an extended leave of absence from work to sort out her parents' will and deal with her mourning. The repeated "accidents" she had in bed, just from refusing to get up, eventually turned into a habit, something she stopped thinking about. She'd just deal with it whenever she managed to actually get up. It barely mattered. It felt like nothing did.

Lucy woke up to herself some day in March, realizing just how far she'd fallen from her usual responsible self. 23 years old and wetting herself in bed regularly, a trash bin full of her soaked diapers, takeout boxes littering the house, clothes scattered everywhere, mail piled up on the dinner table... she hated the realization that she wasn't getting better, even with therapy, even with the break from work...

That is when the thoughts crept back into her mind. Become someone else. She stewed in the thought and squirmed. Late in March, she finally did it. She sent a simple message to a man she'd sworn to hate.

[Make me into someone else.]

She had to wait nearly a day for him to reply. She figured he must have just been some cheeky internet traveler, a kinkster overconfident in his abilities. And then his reply came through. It was a simple message through their shared chat board.

[I hope you don't come to regret this. You can call me Master.]

Lucy had to read his message, short as it was, dozens of times before she was able to reply at all. Before she could, he sent her a phone number. Something more personal. More immediate. She sent her reply to that instead through text.

[How are you going to change me into someone else, Master?]

It was a simple enough ask. It had a complicated answer.

[If you don't know, then you will have to let someone else do it for you. Let someone else give you a new name, a new purpose. It could be a close friend. Or perhaps someone you've played with before.]

Lucy hated that she had nobody to lean on. Isolating herself for months had dried up a lot of her connections... but there was one, maybe. [What about you, Master? Would you do that for me?] Lucy had to wait barely a minute before his text came back.

[If you believe you cannot do it yourself and have no other options... I will help remake you, Olivia.]

Lucy stared at the message, confused as this stranger from the internet called her a name that wasn't hers. She typed back quickly. [I think you... my name's Lucy.]

[No, it is not.]

Lucy - Olivia - stared at the message. It was... damning. She read it over and over. Maybe... maybe her name wasn't Lucy. Not to him, anyway. It was Olivia.

[Say it, Olivia. What is your name?] He texted again. Lucy looked at the time stamp. She'd been staring at her phone debating how to reply for nearly ten minutes. She swallowed hard.

[My name is Olivia, Master.]

[Good girl. Tell me more about yourself...]

Olivia then spent the next three months texting him daily, hourly even, by the minute when he was available. She spent her days in bed pining for his attention, desperate for him to remind her what her new name was, what she was supposed to do. It started easy at first.

[Show me your living room.]

Olivia clambered out of bed faster than she had in months, racing to the living room in her adult incontinence diaper, too focused on her "task" to even care as she photographed her house's living room, covered in litter and discarded clothes.

[I'm disappointed. Clean it.] He replied. Olivia felt crushed by his disapproval. But as she looked at it, he was right. It was filthy. It hadn't been cleaned in months. Without delay, she spent the day tidying her living room. Once it was clean, she sent him a photo and he replied shortly after.

[Good girl. That will be all for today.]

Olivia felt a wave of relief and ecstasy at his praise. So much so, she was nearly glowing the remainder of the day. And then she looked down at herself. She saw herself in her shameful diaper, a wrinkled T-shirt. She went back to bed, it was already late anyway. She changed herself quickly before sleeping. In the morning, she had a simple text from Master.

[Shower, then send me a photo of your bathroom. I want to see if it's as bad as your living room.]

Olivia barely had time to think as she went straight to the bathroom and showered, realizing how filthy this room had gotten too. She sent Master a photo as requested.

[Clean it.]

She didn't even wait to redress after her shower, she began cleaning immediately, desperate to please him. He repeated the process with her kitchen and then the spare rooms, the other bathroom, the hallways and stairs through the house, the attic bedroom and, finally, her bedroom.

[W-wait... Master, can I clean my bedroom before I photograph it?] She pleaded through text.

[No.]

She felt doomed by his message. She poked her head into her room and wrinkled her nose. Having spent the last two days cleaning her house for her "Master" and leaving her own room for last, it now stank more than anywhere else, not the least bit because of her urine-soaked diaper stack, untended and ignored as her depression had hold of her. And now she had to send him a photograph of it. She did as she was told. She had, despite all wisdom against it, decided to let Master help fix her.

[Good girl. Clean it.] He replied, simple as he had for every other room before it.

Olivia breathed a sigh of relief as he made no comment on it and cleaned her room as thoroughly as she could, feeling disgusted in her old self as she discarded her adult diapers. She couldn't believe she'd fallen so far as to not even bother going to the bathroom to pee. What a disgusting state...

Finally, she sent the photo of her cleaned room and sat on the edge of her bed, awaiting his response, only then realizing she was still utterly nude after her shower. She was about to get up and dress when, instead of anything else, she got a request for a video call. Olivia's heart ran ice cold as she realized what that meant. She might get to see his face, he would get to see hers. She answered it before she could think better of it, her phone's camera pointing at her face as she looked down at the device. She was careful not to show below her neck, though her cheeks burned bright red as she let him video call her as she was naked. However, his screen was black, not sharing his camera. A text message popped up.

[Tour the house. Talk, Olivia.]

She blushed as she stood up, stammering as she realized he was watching her. She was in a precarious state indeed. "O-oh, right... um, hi... it's nice to... sort of meet you. I'm-" she paused, realizing this moment mattered. "Olivia. Let me show you my home."

The girl, utterly naked as Master hadn't suggested she dress, carried her phone around the house and explained the layout and use for the rooms. Most went unused beyond storage, as she really only needed her bedroom, the kitchen, a bathroom, and living room...

As she got to the second floor and glazed past a second set of stairs, a narrow one leading to the attic bedroom, a text message popped up.

[What was that?]

Olivia dragged the phone camera back to the attic stairs, stammering.

"J-just stairs to another bedroom in the attic... it's right above the master bedroom, is pretty spacious really, as the roof is quite tall... it's a tall arch, since it snows here yearly... and, um..."

[Show me.]

She blushed, even though her camera wasn't showing her and she carried the phone upstairs, peering into the empty, unused bedroom. It was spacious, mostly owing to its emptiness, and a message came along shortly.

[Interesting. Good girl. That should do.]

The video call terminated shortly after and, much to Olivia's surprise, another message came along before she could thank him for his time.

[I would like to come and personally help finish you, Olivia. If you're enjoying the improvement you're seeing, arrange it. I want to own Olivia. Be mine and become someone new, entirely. A new purpose, remember?]

Olivia blushed at the mere thought but, perhaps to her own doom, her body vibrated at the idea. Submitting herself to this enigmatic man who, to his credit, had done remarkable work on fixing her already. Olivia had to admit that being ordered to clean her house had been the impetus to get it tidy. She'd actually made it outside a few times to get groceries in the weeks they'd been talking. She'd introduced herself to strangers as Olivia and it had felt amazing.

And now he was suggesting she surrender Olivia, herself, to him. It scared her. But it excited her.

Olivia, with a pretty substantial amount of money from her parents' life insurance policies, had more than enough money to retire, truthfully, so long as it was handled responsibly. That's why she hadn't been afraid to take a leave of absence from work. But now, Master promised he would manage her money for her, using it to continue her journey to become Olivia. On the day she'd promised him that she would let him "finish" her and sent him the details to her credit card, she'd received several emails notifying her that deliveries were issued for her home and, per his orders, as they arrived she had the delivery people bring the various boxes up to the attic bedroom and never go in herself. She was endlessly curious, but Master said no.

Things moved quickly after that, even in her recollection while waiting in front of her door. Master made her video call him several more times. He frequently gave her little tasks and humiliations in balanced measure. Tidy your room, show off your favorite swimsuit. Clean the bathroom naked, show Master your sex toy collection. Olivia had to admit, she had only a simple wand vibrator. And, on their last call, he had even spoken. A simple praise as she she stripped completely nude and stood in full view, turning as directed, spreading her body, her ass cheeks, rubbing her pussy at his text direction just to finally hear, "Good girl, Olivia." In a rich, almost father-like tone. It had set her abuzzing and, though she asked, he had denied her any further interaction. What he did give her was instructions.

[You will wait for me this Monday at 9AM. You will sit on your knees in front of the front door. The house will be spotless, except for the attic. You will wear only your bath robe.]

It was forceful. Direct. Clear. And perhaps that was why, sitting here on her knees, Olivia was so excited to meet him. The mysteries would be dispelled and her life, her new life, her life with him, would finally begin in earnest. She wondered what he had in store for her... as the door unlatched, she was about to find out...