Jim felt himself being packed into a suitcase. The last couple of weeks had been the best time of his life. His wearer had worn him on hikes up into the mountains, and even when she went to see the geysers, she had worn him under her shirt. But he really didn't care about all the hikes that he went on. Most of the time, he didn't notice anything, except the constant swaying of his wearer's breasts inside of him. His nights consisted of dreaming of the next day when he would be worn again. Then he heard his wearer talking, and for a second he thought that she might be talking to him. Why would she do that? He was only a bra, after all. But she seemed sad, and said she was sorry for something. Jim listened, and she said she was sorry she didn't turn him back. Turn him back into what? he wondered. He was very confused, and this was too much for his fabric mind to process. She took him out of the the suitcase, and cuddled him close and cried. He didn't know why, but was excited thinking he might get the chance to be worn. Finally she did put him on, and Jim snuggled closely against her breasts. The pleasure was just a great as it had always been, and he couldn't concentrate on anything other than her breasts. Her sobbing, her apologies, he completely ignored. He was just a bra now, not remembering his past life at all.
