This choice: Five years later, Ronnie is living a mundane life as a career girl • Go Back...Chapter #4Five years later, Ronnie is living a mundane li... by: Zeronominous   It didn't really take that much time to pass for you to eventually lose track of time again after your owner's graduation, and unless you were to happen to actually catch Ronnie's age being shouted out loud during one of her future birthday celebrations, you highly doubted if you would ever truly know how much time was going on and marching on without your awareness of it. A part of you kept hoping that one day, one fateful day, Ronnie would finally break you out of this prison of cotton and restore you to human form, and that you would still get to see your family and friends alive. But seeing as she had kept you this way even past going to school, this scenario seemed more and more unlikely to you and you couldn't really help but feel that if you ever had the chance of being turned back, you wouldn't recognize the world you'd find yourself in and everyone you knew and loved would be gone. A very far-fetched, convoluted and downright terrible way of time travelling. Waking up in the far flung future. Still, even that you tried to hang on to as a possibilities versus remaining panties all the way to the day you'd fray and break down to nothingness as your threads aged.
At first when Ronnie had finished school, she had gone around a lot in various travels across the country, the only real clue to that for you being all the vibrations that you had felt on days she'd worn you, days you weren't stuck in a travel bag or another. It had taken a good while for her to settle down, but eventually she made it back to her hometown, which you would have to admit to having no clue exactly in which state it was. She didn't really stay back at her parents place for very long and had gotten herself a place of her own to settle in and in the same times, a job. While you had wished with every fibers of your being that she would start working out somewhere with magic being a relative constant, in the vain hope that one day someone with the right sets of magical talents and moral fiber would notice you and help you out. She herself had settled for some sort of receptionist work or another in what was probably one of the most mundane workplace of her region.
As she settled into her life in the work force, slowly buying this and that for her place and even rarely using her powers at all. You'd been confronted with your life becoming quite sedate and repetitive, slowly but surely everything became a routine to you. Being worn for a day at her work, spending most of that time being sat on, legs smothering most if not all of the talking that was going around you and what you could listen to being mostly uninteresting, specially without context. Spending the following days all bundled up inside of her hamper, and only very rarely occasionally on the floor instead. Going through the wash cycle, being folded away and going through more days in a drawer amongst all her panties, bras, socks, thighs and other underthings. To try and avoid going completely insane with the boredom, you slowly started to implement a form of mental routine for yourself. Any given day, you would spend time singing each song you knew, recount children stories, talk to yourself about your life story and details everything you could remember about each of your friends and your family. Then you'd try and relax with a bit of zen meditation to try and not think about the fact you were made of cotton thread and stitches. And then you'd more or less do it all over again when you'd be done.
Of course, it wasn't exactly an exact science either, specially without the awareness of time itself. You couldn't really know if that took you an hour or a day or two. Still, you figured that as long as you kept yourself thinking, your mind would stay sharp and your human side wouldn't fade, no matter what your owner had said on that infamous day you were transformed into this form. And of course, it was hard to keep a complete self discipline on recounting all those details each time, every day, all the time. So once in a while, you would skip out on going all out, you would skip some of your least favourite stories, would focus only on your favourite songs and allow yourself to summarize things up about yourself, your family and friends. You'd always admonish yourself afterwards for skipping, as it was your only and most important mission as a human person turned undies.
Your window of opportunities into your owner's life being relatively small, you didn't really pay much mind to her life stories. It didn't really matter that much to you if she were having a good day or a bad one, if work was a breeze or a chore. Once in a while, she'd wear you going out with her friends but when she did, you'd be less focused on them and what the news was, as they tended to go dance and the over bearing music and the way your owner's hips and butt would sway and move would make it all but impossible to follow up anyway. You didn't much pay attention either to her love life, when she'd get a boyfriend for a while, you ended up in the midst of embarrassing things a couple of times, but like always it would end up with you crumpled up on the floor and eventually to be thrown in the hamper.
As the days slowly turned to weeks, which in turn became months and eventually years passed by. There was but one thing that had started to change for you, one thing you were no where near ready to even admit to yourself. Of course you would never admit such feelings to yourself and specially not such feeling for the cruel woman that had done this to you. In reality you had begun to look forward to the days you were being worn now, and it wasn't so much because it was airing you out and allow you to hear others and feel closer to humans.
You had never had a single thoughts for other girls when you were human, very content with being interested in the other sex and happy with what little experience you did have with boyfriends. But spending years of your existence as panties, being worn by your mistress every other day of the month, your entire being wrapped, shaped and molded by her pelvis had started to take its toll on you. Even more so as she aged and started to become more than a teen, but well and truly a woman. A woman you were intimately aware of every inches of her sex as your front was taut and snug to her labial lips, intimately aware of her body as she moved, the way her muscles moved and clenched, the cocking of her hips straining your waistband and the ever so subtle ways her labia would twitch and almost bite into your taut front when excited. How her supple rear would stretch your material, specially when she bent down or sat on top of you, making you feel all of her soft flesh and all of her weight. Intimately aware of her natural scents and not so natural ones, as you had time to get used to her brand of soap, laundry detergent and even her favourite perfume. The way not only her form was fulfilling you when she was wearing you, but how immersed you became with her scents, her sweat, how her juices could soak down to your very threads if her boyfriend would tease her with you still on. How comforting the warmth of her living body completely filling you as she went about her day made you feel, more and more comfortable and enamored with being worn by your woman, your owner.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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