“… Search the house for absolutely everything that used to belong to you, and throw it in the trash”

“… Search the house for absolutely everything that used to belong to you, and throw it in the trash”

I gasped in horror. I remember how gut wrenching that command was, how heart breaking it was to see my mother’s clean-freak glee at the idea of clearing the house winning over any and all love she ever had for me. There was no respect or connection from her to me, no connection to anything that was once mine, she just wanted it all gone – it was all worthless junk to her.

My life was worthless junk to her – to everyone.

“B-but...”

Tears welled up in my eyes again, even as I continued to shake my tits obediently for her. For some reason the motion had become almost metronomic to me, and weirdly reassuring, like the constant sway of my breasts was comfortable because it was constant… it was the same… while the world spiralled out of control.

Mom stared at me and I stared back, my eyes wide, lips parted as the panic grew into my chest again. I wanted to scream, but nothing escaped my throat.

She wanted me to throw everything out. Everything. I would have nothing. I was nothing. And what scared me the most was how permanent that felt – what if what had changed today suddenly undid itself? What if tomorrow at 7am I’d suddenly be a person again? What then? All of my possessions would be gone… This would just take me further and further from ever hoping to return to normal…

But I needed something... I had to cling to something... Maybe I could get to my room under the guise of obeying. I could get to my phone, my laptop… I could get online and look for help… or try to change my name. I thought that If I could just get to my clothes and get dressed… If I stayed busy… maybe she’d leave me alone long enough that I could...

“Alexa, Now!”

“Y-y-yes Mrs Miller…” The words escaped my lips before I could stop them and my burning shame only increased.

I don’t know how I managed to pull myself to my feet, my legs felt like jelly and my stomach was doing flips. I kept one hand clamped between my legs, blushing brightly as I felt how hot I was – the humiliating flush had the mortifying effect of stimulating every blood vessel in my skin, my nipples were like diamonds and my pussy was achingly hot.

I whimpered as I scurried past her, unable to look her in the eye. She spanked me as I passed, drawing another humiliated squeal from my lips. She was toying with me, my own mother, teasing and groping me like she was a horny guy in a strip club... Like that was normal...

Stopping the humiliating swaying of my breasts I headed to the stairs and padded meekly up them, constantly and painfully aware of the view of my pert bare ass I was giving my Mom beneath me.

Waiting for me at the top of the stairs was the laundry basket Mom had been carrying when she’d first found me like this. It was still there, abandoned in the hallway, but where it had contained a pile of my neatly folded and freshly laundered clothes, it now contained a jumbled pile of soaked fabric. Mom has used my clothes to mop up my mess, and I cringed, knowing that even if I tried to save any of my other possessions, I couldn’t save anything that was in it.

I glanced forlornly at my favourite blue and white striped sundress on the top of the pile. The fabric was sodden, probably ruined... reduced to a floor rag...

Whimpering to myself I picked up the basket and padded softly towards my room. Downstairs I heard the TV switched on in the living room, the low murmuring of some daytime cable news show echoing up the stairs, it just further heightened my own despair. I'd suddenly stopped being a person, and yet everyone else was carrying on as normal... it wasn't fair!

My Mom was going to sit and watch TV like everything was fine while I threw away all of my possessions...

Stepping inside my room made me shiver. It was like looking at a museum of my suddenly abandoned life. I could see it in the way everything was laid out. It was the last place I’d been dressed. The last place I’d slept.

The bed was still unmade from me sleeping in it last night. There was still a half-drunk glass of water on the bedside table, the soft-toys from my childhood still stuffed an alcove above the closet, while a mural of pictures of me and my friends from High school covered the wall around my dresser and desk.

In the corner, still boxed, were the things I’d brought back from college… The possessions I’d most wanted to keep, were now the ones most easily discarded, already boxed up and ready for disposal.

My phone and laptop... My heart sank. Where were they? I was sure I'd left them both charging on my desk but it was empty. I got the immediate queasy feeling that someone had gotten here before me...

I glanced at the mirror, and another cold bolt of ice shot up my spine.

The room in the reflection was empty.

It’s difficult for me to explain what looking at my reflection was like. Especially that first time. My immediate instinct was a prickling discomfort in the back of my neck that told me something was very wrong with what I was looking at, because there was no one there…

What terrified me was how long it took for me to realise… I was there... I just wasn’t seeing myself as a person. It was like my mind was physically incapable of recognising me as someone. I could see me; of course, standing there completely naked, my skin flushed and pink, my breasts rising and falling with every stuttering panicked breath that I made, but every part of my mind told me the room was empty.

My naked body was as much a part of the furniture as the bed, or my desk.

I could still see my face, I could see it moving, when I tried to **** a smile or I frowned… I could see the water on my cheeks from crying… but I couldn’t tell what emotion the Alexa in the mirror was trying to convey. Trying to guess my emotional state or what I was thinking from looking was as impossible and pointless as trying to read the emotions of a tree.

And I knew then that I was seeing what everyone saw when they look at me. I was just an object, a thing. What made it all the more horrifying was that I could still recognise my function, like you can just tell that a chair is for sitting or a knife is for cutting… I was for servitude… slavery… obedience… and fucking…

I tore my eyes away in misery, gasping back great heaving sobs as I collapsed on the edge of my bed. It didn’t matter what I did, any plan of saving any of my possessions and escaping… of getting out of this, was hopeless. I was naked, surrounded by clothes... my own clothes... but they might as well have been made of ash for all the use they would be in protecting me. There was no way I could disguise myself… nowhere I could go… nothing I could do to escape the truth.

Im not a person, I'm an Alexa.