Horst's mother had a way with a needle and thread, so before her son came to a decision on a dye color, she offered to try mending the jockstrap.
"I'll sew those holes up and it'll be as good as new," his mother assured him.
"Sure thing, mom," Horst agreed, still considering whether he preferred the red or blue dyes. He didn't know how Ryan might feel about a bit of strategic surgery to his cotton form.
Ryan the jockstrap struggled to keep up with the conversation, but he knew from what he had heard that he had holes in him. Multiple. Holes! Stupid Horst!
Suddenly, he felt a hand lift him, but it wasn't the hand of a strapping athlete. He felt his cotton form smoothed out and then "saw" a threaded needle coming toward him. The needle caught the light and glistened diabolically.
"Wait just a... Owww!" The needle stabbed through his cotton fabric, and the process repeated as Horst's mother used the needle to pull white thread through the major hole that had been worn away from Ryan's new form by the effects of the caustic overdose of bleach.
"Oww! Oww!" He cried each time. "Please, stop!"
He felt like he was being tortured by the dozens of repeated stabbings, but he gradually noticed that the gaping hole in his beautiful cotton pouch was narrowing as Horst's mom repaired the damage. She tackled two of the smaller holes when Horst came into view to watch her progress.
"Horst!" Ryan tried to shout to his friend.
"Did you say something, honey?" Horst's mom asked him.
"No, mom," Horst reacted with some worry, but watched the speed his mother used with her needle. In no time, she had the holes in the jockstrap mended.
"You can barely see the new stitching," she said with pride and handed the jockstrap off to her son. "Just mind the bleach again. You've got to be a little more careful with natural fabrics like cotton."
"Sure, mom," Horst said. As soon as his hand touched the jockstrap, he began hearing Ryan's irate thoughts.
"Any idiot knows not to use an entire cup of bleach!" Ryan exclaimed.
"I got you repaired!" Horst grumbled. "What more do you want?"
Horst's mom packed up her needle and thread into her sewing box. "What was that, dear?"
"Nothing, mom," Horst said, dangling the jockstrap in the air. "I think I'll go to my room."
"OK, dear."
Of course, Ryan could hear the unspoken thoughts. Horst wanted to wear him again. He caught more of his fellow jock's thoughts... the jerk was already thinking of jerking off into him again.
Horst chuckled at Ryan's sputtered outrage. "Relax," he said. "Now I know how to do the laundry without causing you any damage."
"Nooohhh!" Ryan screamed.