My Master and the Red-Haired Woman
Quillin Xarxes
(PS, I think I was a little horny when I wrote this... I sincerely apologize. I've written worse... but when I wrote this, it was considered pretty nasty for my work.)
I find myself now, dirty and worn, thrown into a puddle of mud. I was once shiny, bright white and adorned with a proud red R in my center.
But not anymore.
My owner decided he no longer needed me. Decided he had no more use for my ragged edges, although we've been through so much together. Those were the grand old days.
I was made by his partner, a fine young woman with red hair in a fireball of locks. I loved that woman. She gave me a being. A purpose. Those striking blue eyes and that wonderful hair (I never did figure out how she did it) with such an excellent designing talent. But I see her no more.
During the times I have clothed my master, I have been burned, electrocuted, ripped, torn, stretched, and resewn on multiple occasions. He never failed to stitch me up after a hard day's work, making my appearance as good as new. I've been ran in, slept in, swam in, flown in, possibly everything a garment can go through I went through. I was dashing over my master's black shirt, with his black gloves half covering my sleeves. We were almost inseparable (besides the obvious, of course)
But there was a large distraction. Another person, with a blue jacket and red cap. That jacket. I hated that jacket. Always calling me a symbol of evil, threatening to jump off his master and tear me into rags. Of course, I knew he couldn't really do that (come on, it's a jacket!) but the lowness of his personality really hurt me. Someday, I thought, I would tell my master to tear the evil thing to fibers of polyester, burn it, and dance in it's ashes. But now I have no such chance to do that. I'm abandoned. Thrown away, in a puddle of mud.
I know exactly why too. It's her. The entire reason I exist, is also the reason I'm being abandoned. The girl with the flowing red hair and the striking blue eyes has taken away my master's heart and won't give it back.
First those hints were few and far between. Several times I was pressed against my twin, adorned by the red-haired woman, both her and my master getting me and my twin wet with tears. And when they weren't crying, it was the same episode without tears, but with whoops of joy in a newfound discovery or victory.
Then it became more evident. Normally, the red-haired woman would use a mallet or paper fan and whack the begesus out of my master, sometimes even adding more red to my design, but it started to decrease, and finally grew to a halt. She stopped hitting my master, and acted more like a friend than a partner. They started working together much better, and getting along.
And then, the ultimate sign. One that marks the fact that my master's heart was now in the possession of the red-haired woman and wasn't coming back no matter how hard my master wanted it to.
They had always slept in separate sleeping bags. No matter how close those sleeping bags were to each other, they were always separate. But one night, I was about to drift off and dream about that fancy bikini number I saw at the beach the other day, when I felt something touching my back. I turned my attention backward, and saw the red-haired woman. It wasn't the normal way she would touch my master, whether to push him out of the way of danger, or saying "good job" or before yelling at him, or anything to that manner. It was more of a caress. My master turned to her and tried to say something, but she put her finger over his lips. And they kissed. I couldn't see them from the position I was at under my master's sleeping bag, but I could hear it. I could hear the quick breaths of air as they separated, only for a moment, and continued. I soon felt myself being pushed against my twin, full force, and realized the situation was getting bigger and bigger. I could not see all that was going on, but I could feel the red-haired woman putting her hand between my master and me. He gasped, and I realized that he had not been expecting any of this at all. He got tense, and softened again as the red-haired woman stroked him. I could see him put his own hand between my twin and the red-haired woman, and could hear the red-haired woman's own sigh of pleasure. I directed my vision to the back again, for I did not want to see. But I couldn't get the image out of my head. The thought of my master and the red-haired woman kissing each other, touching each other, loving each other in such a way was to vivid to escape my mind.
Suddenly I felt my buttons undone, and was thrown a few yards away to a pile of other clothes, including my twin. I could feel my twin's voice, offering little condolence, but trying. I could hear the voices of my master and the red-haired woman. The sighs of pleasure, groans, and finally just breathing. That I could handle. I always hear breathing. Looking over I could see my master and the red-haired girl laying in a close embrace, smiling in their sleep. They looked very content, but if I was human, I would cry. I had never heard or seen anything so shocking done by my master. I tried to sleep, but being next to my twin made me uneasy. She... seemed a little too impressed by what was going on.
The next day was the day it all happened. My buttons were back together and I was for once in the right place, on my master. He and the red-haired woman were walking through the woods, my master's arm over the red-haired woman's shoulder, when they suddenly stopped. My master looked sad. He looked at the red-haired woman, then at me, then looked at the red-haired woman again, as if they were reading each other's minds. Then he smiled, and I heard a rip. Being inanimate, I felt no physical pain, but the thought hurt so badly. Was my master ripping me? This time, without needing a strip of cloth to dress a wound, or falling in a tree and ripping me accidentally but intentionally ripping me with his own hands? The answer was yes. He tore me off and threw me to the ground. The red-haired woman repeated what my master had done, and soon me and my twin were together in a puddle of mud.
That is where I am now. My master has just torn me off of himself, thrown me on the ground, and walked off with the woman he loves. And what about me? Me, the one who kept him warm in the snow, the one who was taken off to wipe the sweat off his forehead, the one who he has shared a goodly portion of his life with, and he just rips me off and throws me in the mud? Again, if I wasn't made of cotton, instead made out of human fabric, I would cry. Being inanimate doesn't mean I don't have feelings. I don't even have a chance to say goodbye to my master, I can just watch him walk off. Ungrateful bastard.
Quillin Xarxes
(PS, I think I was a little horny when I wrote this... I sincerely apologize. I've written worse... but when I wrote this, it was considered pretty nasty for my work.)
I find myself now, dirty and worn, thrown into a puddle of mud. I was once shiny, bright white and adorned with a proud red R in my center.
But not anymore.
My owner decided he no longer needed me. Decided he had no more use for my ragged edges, although we've been through so much together. Those were the grand old days.
I was made by his partner, a fine young woman with red hair in a fireball of locks. I loved that woman. She gave me a being. A purpose. Those striking blue eyes and that wonderful hair (I never did figure out how she did it) with such an excellent designing talent. But I see her no more.
During the times I have clothed my master, I have been burned, electrocuted, ripped, torn, stretched, and resewn on multiple occasions. He never failed to stitch me up after a hard day's work, making my appearance as good as new. I've been ran in, slept in, swam in, flown in, possibly everything a garment can go through I went through. I was dashing over my master's black shirt, with his black gloves half covering my sleeves. We were almost inseparable (besides the obvious, of course)
But there was a large distraction. Another person, with a blue jacket and red cap. That jacket. I hated that jacket. Always calling me a symbol of evil, threatening to jump off his master and tear me into rags. Of course, I knew he couldn't really do that (come on, it's a jacket!) but the lowness of his personality really hurt me. Someday, I thought, I would tell my master to tear the evil thing to fibers of polyester, burn it, and dance in it's ashes. But now I have no such chance to do that. I'm abandoned. Thrown away, in a puddle of mud.
I know exactly why too. It's her. The entire reason I exist, is also the reason I'm being abandoned. The girl with the flowing red hair and the striking blue eyes has taken away my master's heart and won't give it back.
First those hints were few and far between. Several times I was pressed against my twin, adorned by the red-haired woman, both her and my master getting me and my twin wet with tears. And when they weren't crying, it was the same episode without tears, but with whoops of joy in a newfound discovery or victory.
Then it became more evident. Normally, the red-haired woman would use a mallet or paper fan and whack the begesus out of my master, sometimes even adding more red to my design, but it started to decrease, and finally grew to a halt. She stopped hitting my master, and acted more like a friend than a partner. They started working together much better, and getting along.
And then, the ultimate sign. One that marks the fact that my master's heart was now in the possession of the red-haired woman and wasn't coming back no matter how hard my master wanted it to.
They had always slept in separate sleeping bags. No matter how close those sleeping bags were to each other, they were always separate. But one night, I was about to drift off and dream about that fancy bikini number I saw at the beach the other day, when I felt something touching my back. I turned my attention backward, and saw the red-haired woman. It wasn't the normal way she would touch my master, whether to push him out of the way of danger, or saying "good job" or before yelling at him, or anything to that manner. It was more of a caress. My master turned to her and tried to say something, but she put her finger over his lips. And they kissed. I couldn't see them from the position I was at under my master's sleeping bag, but I could hear it. I could hear the quick breaths of air as they separated, only for a moment, and continued. I soon felt myself being pushed against my twin, full force, and realized the situation was getting bigger and bigger. I could not see all that was going on, but I could feel the red-haired woman putting her hand between my master and me. He gasped, and I realized that he had not been expecting any of this at all. He got tense, and softened again as the red-haired woman stroked him. I could see him put his own hand between my twin and the red-haired woman, and could hear the red-haired woman's own sigh of pleasure. I directed my vision to the back again, for I did not want to see. But I couldn't get the image out of my head. The thought of my master and the red-haired woman kissing each other, touching each other, loving each other in such a way was to vivid to escape my mind.
Suddenly I felt my buttons undone, and was thrown a few yards away to a pile of other clothes, including my twin. I could feel my twin's voice, offering little condolence, but trying. I could hear the voices of my master and the red-haired woman. The sighs of pleasure, groans, and finally just breathing. That I could handle. I always hear breathing. Looking over I could see my master and the red-haired girl laying in a close embrace, smiling in their sleep. They looked very content, but if I was human, I would cry. I had never heard or seen anything so shocking done by my master. I tried to sleep, but being next to my twin made me uneasy. She... seemed a little too impressed by what was going on.
The next day was the day it all happened. My buttons were back together and I was for once in the right place, on my master. He and the red-haired woman were walking through the woods, my master's arm over the red-haired woman's shoulder, when they suddenly stopped. My master looked sad. He looked at the red-haired woman, then at me, then looked at the red-haired woman again, as if they were reading each other's minds. Then he smiled, and I heard a rip. Being inanimate, I felt no physical pain, but the thought hurt so badly. Was my master ripping me? This time, without needing a strip of cloth to dress a wound, or falling in a tree and ripping me accidentally but intentionally ripping me with his own hands? The answer was yes. He tore me off and threw me to the ground. The red-haired woman repeated what my master had done, and soon me and my twin were together in a puddle of mud.
That is where I am now. My master has just torn me off of himself, thrown me on the ground, and walked off with the woman he loves. And what about me? Me, the one who kept him warm in the snow, the one who was taken off to wipe the sweat off his forehead, the one who he has shared a goodly portion of his life with, and he just rips me off and throws me in the mud? Again, if I wasn't made of cotton, instead made out of human fabric, I would cry. Being inanimate doesn't mean I don't have feelings. I don't even have a chance to say goodbye to my master, I can just watch him walk off. Ungrateful bastard.