Unfortunately, Kristen doesn't seem to notice as you're sent tumbling down from her panty pile. Nor does she notice you land, as you end up disguised among the numerous other articles of clothing that were now surrounding you. Nor does evidently anybody else, as Bethany and Robin continue chatting away with Kristen as she loads one of the numerous front-loaded washing machines with her tops and skirts.
This is certainly an unexpected turn of events for you. Not even considering the possibility of being so nonchalantly lost after just one use. Your dream of rejoining Kristen's drawer was now left a fleeting fantasy. And the funniest part? She won't even notice your disappearance, perhaps finally finding the original hiding at the bottom when she wonders about those "cute green panties" she hadn't seen lately. You finally realize what it means to be an "item": something to be used and abused with little care.
Still, the current situation wasn't all too bad. Of course, you could turn back and find your way back to Kristen's drawer, or perhaps undertake another mission. But there was something about being an item that aroused you, to go along with the flow of events that fate had in store for you without being able to do anything about it. It was a wonderful feeling. And while not as pretty as Kristen or gorgeous as Bethany, the pale-skinned redhead had her own charm, always active and cheerful as she went around playing pranks on students around the campus. It being kind of "her thing".
As you lay there, you gauge your surroundings. You seemed to have dropped onto top of one of Robin's thongs, judging by the feeling underneath you. The first thing you noticed: it stinks. Far more than Kristen's used pink V-string whose erogenous lingering smell turned you on. This smell was far muskier and overpowering as it overwhelmed your senses. If you had a mouth, you'd probably cough from the stinging sensation. Though you couldn't get a close look, you assume that this must be a recent pair.
Finally, you notice Robin prancing her way over to you and picking up the pile, yourself included, and plopping you all unceremoniously onto the table. If there was a chance she had noticed the addition of another pair, she gave no indication. Instead reaching for you. No, scratch that, the thong underneath you, picking it up to examine it and allowing you a closer look.
If you had eyes, you would've widened them in shock. The normally purple g-string with a lacy seam was completely stained *brown* with patches of residue covering front end of it. Her next words hammering in another revelation to you as she muttered:
"I should pre-soak them next time, several days really let it set in. Oh well..."
You began to regret your decision as you wanted off this ride, but your concentration gets broken as you're snapped up alongside several other pairs and thrown into the washing machine, followed by a few more and finally her bras. You no longer had a choice but to go along with the ride, quite literally, as Robin pours in the laundry detergent and fabric softener and turns on the machine, as it whirs to life and begins tossing you around in its rinse phase. The excitement follows as it drains and re-rinses you again, before entering the climax: the spin cycle. You forget your worries and concerns as you enter into the most extreme and fun rollercoaster ride only available to clothes such as yourself. The centrifugal force would've no doubt killed you had you been human, with the G-forces being exerted onto you. Instead only plastering you to the side of machine as it comes to a slow halt.
Suddenly, the door opens, pouring in light as Robin begins fishing out the various pieces of lingerie out of the machine, chucking you all into a nearby dryer that she'd already activated with her student card. You follow with them, the door once again closing shut before the sequence is activated. This time, the spin wasn't too intense, instead a continuous rhythm as it tossed and turned you over and over again, dropping you from its baffles and scooping you back up again. The heat itself was surprisingly pleasant, the expected scorching replaced by a calm, warm sensation that felt like you were out on a beautiful day sunbathing. You didn't want to let go off this moment. However, good things end as soon as they arrive, the nearly 1-hour cycle ending quickly. Once again, you were fished out by Robin, but this time you were thrown into her mesh-bag, along with her other panties.
One of which was the aforementioned purple thong. The sight of which snapped you back to reality. Now that you had more room to observe it, you stare at its backside, noting that the nasty skid mark was all but gone, its musky scent replaced by a nice floral tinge. Wait, scratch that, now that you're examining it closely, you *do* notice a reminiscent, faint light brown mark. It's not noticeable at first, but it's definitely there. And while the floral scent covered it up, you start to notice undertones of that former ass smell still lingering. Very slight, very unnoticeable, and had you not known Robin's dirty secret, not perceptive. But it's there. This made you think: what if that was you? Would you be able to endure it? Would you be able to turn back? And if so, what would happen to the remnant evidence of your stay with Robin? Would it disappear or... would it fuse with you, eternally lingering and reminding you of the hellish experience you went through? Millions of questions raced through your mind.
Once she gets back to her room, she drops the mesh-bag and begins sorting its contents one by one. Finally, she gets to you. The moment of truth.
"Huh? I don't remember these." Robin's freckled face scrunches up as she examines you closely, flipping you around, turning you, opening you up as her emerald green eyes bore a hole through your face. If you could sweat you could. But fortunately for you, Robin saw nothing more than a pair of green panties. The thought of a pervert invading her laundry pile certainly not crossing her mind. She stretches you out around her waist, measuring you up as if to see if you were her fit. Nodding her head as she does.
"Certainly on the small side, but still my size. Where did I get these from?" She says, examining the tag. Which is something you do not appreciate, feeling as if she was tugging the hair from your scalp. Painfully awaiting with bated breath for her decision.