Cotton [Come One, Come ALL]

Premise:

You know the cotton ball: an innocuous ball of fluff that can be found in medicine chests everywhere. They are a hallmark of first aid, applying topical antiseptics and antibacterials left and right, the unsung and forgotten heroes of diseased wound prevention.

And they're out to kill you.

It's not just the cotton balls, either, but everything cottony: your jeans, your shirts, your socks, your sheets, even cotton candy. They're all out to kill you, and there's nothing you can do about it. Really.

Except maybe kill them all with fire.

The problem is, you're out of matches and lighters. You have no gasoline, butane, propane, or even hair spray. The cotton balls nuked all of that first thing when they went on their initial, cottony rampage. What you do have is good, old-fashioned, human ingenuity.

Use it wisely. Use it well. Use it, period. And try not to get yourself killed.


Characters:

- Lots of "survivors" from the initial cotton takeover. Get creative.

- At least one paranoid survivalist who lives in an underground bunker and wears tinfoil hats (or the like). Again, get creative.

- One pair of jeans. Preferably holey, stained, and out to kill for it.

- One field of cotton, which the "survivors" battle against.

- One empty canister of gasoline, whose current goal in life is to be filled.

- BaaBaa the sheep, savior of all who would freeze without your messianic wool.

- Anything or anyone else you can possibly think of that is not supernatural. Fantastic realism via personification is the way to go here, people.


Arcs:

1. One Cotton-Soft Morning - In which The Great Cotton Rebellion is instigated and humanity awakens to an epidemic of murderous underwear, wherein the survivors of the Unforeseen Underwear Umbrage go forth into a mad, mad world and attempt to acquire alternative apparel. Your goal in this arc is to escape the war zone with some measure of decency.

2. In the Cold of Night - In which, having secured some form of covering, the survivors must find a way to keep warm during the cold summer night as well secure necessities such as food and water. Your goal in this arc is to survive the night while the Forces of Cotton prowl, unhindered by darkness or temperature.

3. There Burned a Flame - In which the survivors find one another, band together, and secure shelter, food, and water while also making plans for a return to the natural order of things. Your goal in this arc is to rediscover fire and how to use it effectively against the Forces of Cotton.

4. And It Burned Bright - In which the counterattack against the Forces of Cotton is launched and the battle for supremacy is begun. Your goal in this arc is to survive the various encounters with the Forces of Cotton and come out the better for them.

5. The End - In which victory is achieved — but for which side?


Rules:

>>> Although this SB is essentially a free-for-all, your profile(s) must be approved by one of the CottonMods before you can begin to post. This is mainly to make sure you clever folks don't sneak in some too-convenient fire-starters without our knowing. ;P

Please PM your profile to one of the CottonMods before making any posts.

>>> Characters WILL die, usually during (or as a result of) an event post, which the CottonMods will post intermittently. Feel free to organize crazy deaths among yourselves, though. If your character gets killed off, feel free to create another or take over an existing NPC.

>>> All approved profiles are to be posted here.

>>> No double-posting, and be sure to space out your posts a bit. The edit button exists for a reason, and it's nicer if you let others get their fair share of posting in.

>>> Please keep all non-story posts (comments, questions, plotting, etc.) to the Discussion Thread.

>>> Have fun.


The CottonMods:

Kyllorac

Charlie II


Profiles:

CodeSelect all

[b]Designation:[/b] (Name for people/animals, else location/type of object)

[b]Gender:[/b] (Male, Female, Not Applicable)

[b]Skill-set:[/b] (Both positive and negative; get creative)

[b]Assets:[/b] (Get creative)

[b]Starting Location:[/b] (Default is “In bed” for all human characters, “In closet” for all clothing items, and “Ground” for all other objects; you do not need to use these defaults)


It was just before dawn on the East Coast, and the fields of Southern cotton swayed gently in the pre-dawn breeze. To one with an imagination, it sounded like the cotton bolls whispered to one another, a great, roaring whisper which drowned out the particulars of each conversation, a whisper which lingered on long after the breeze had died.

Then the first rays of the dawning sun struck the fields, and the cotton came alive with motion and purpose. And in the distance, the collective screams of countless people resounded around the globe.

Pepper "Peppy" Parker | Narnia/ A Very Ordinary Closet | 8:30am

Pepper was sleeping in her closet. If anyone were to ask her why she was sleeping in her closet, she would talk for at least an hour in high indignation on the rights of a person to do anything and everything on the foundation of their beliefs. Pepper believed in sleeping in the closet.

It was dark in there and in her childhood it had removed the need for checking multiple times that there were in fact no monsters lurking beneath her clothes. Now she knew there were no monsters there because there was only enough room for one Pepper Parker and at twenty-seven it was a very tight fit. Her solution was to buy a new closet, but she never seemed to have the time.

Pepper was a very busy woman for she was an entrepeneur. Every day she went door to door, spreading the news that taking care of the environment was now 'cool' and other people should follow her lead and adopt a closet full of natural cotton goodness.

Unfortunately for Pepper, the world had conspired against her and these joint beliefs of sleeping in the closet and owning only cottony goodness were about to become more dangerous than anyone could have ever forseen.

Peppy Pepper Parker awoke at precisely 8:30am and attempted to stretch out her arms, which was no mean feat in the cramped space of the closet. As she did so however, she found that they had become entangled during the night and no matter how she tugged or pulled, she could not seem to make the clothes let go. They were strangely damp in places, leaving trails of a wet warmth along her skin and oddly enough she was sure she could feel teeth sinking into her shoulder.

With a little yelp, Pepper pushed against her closet door and tumbled out into her room, rolling along the floor in a mound of cotton clothing.

As it slowly dawned on her that the clothes were alive and the warm, wet substance was a mixture of saliva and blood running over her arms, Pepper let out a little shriek and clawed the clothing away, flinging it toward her laundry basket. The cardigan that had crept away from her hanger, the trousers that had been wrenched down as she tumbled out. Into the pile they went!

But Pepper Parker slept in her cotton panties and fresh cotton socks and those proved much more difficult to dispose of.

Marsha Rachmaninov | Outside her house | 8:00 am

Marsha pushed a pair of muddy paws off her back as she knelt by her lead dog, Hotfoot, lengthening his harness. His wet nose explored her pockets, then his tongue flicked out and touched her cheek. His ears twitched and his entire body writhed with pleasure at her smile.
"You're going to run fast," she told him sternly. "But keep your head." He pressed his nose into her palm. "Remember to take the bends slowly." A yap ended the pep talk. Marsha reached down her shirt to extract her pouch of artfully concealed treats. Her fingers closed around the bag, but as she pulled it out, her shirt neck constricted suddenly, as if pulled from behind by a cunning trick of a swing dog.
"Leave it," she growled, but instead of an immediate release of pressure, the shirt continued to shrink around her neck. A sharp set of teeth bit down on her collarbone.

Marsha flew upright and grappled with her shirt, which was exerting no little pressure on her lungs. Staggering backwards as she ripped her coat off, she felt her socks join the fray. She fell onto the driveway, struggling. There was a heavy thump, and Tolstoi, her largest wheel dog, landed on her chest. Marsha heard a vicious snarling and ripping noise, and the pressure on her neck vanished. The treat bag in her hand was whisked away and emptied into Tolstoi's giant maw.

She got rid of her shoes and stripped the socks off with difficulty, leaving two raw, red rims around her ankles. Tolstoi barked. Marsha turned. Her neatly packed supplies toppled off the sled and burst open before her eyes. Balls of cotton wool and warm clothing tore apart her meticulous work. Marsha retreated into the garage, closely pursued by a crawling scarf. Her frantic fingers felt along the shelves, scattering hypodermic syringes, bottles of catgut in spirits and various vials of antibiotics, before closing around the heavy and reassuring handles of her shiny emasculators. She brought the large instrument down with a crash onto the squirming scarf. The textile snake spasmed under the blow and Marsha darted past. "Hike," she shouted. Her team leaped into action. Marsha sprinted for the accelerating sled, grabbing the remains of her supply pack and leaping onto the Kevlar frame. As they sped down the street, she pulled a K-Way windbreaker out of her tattered pack and read the label.

25% nylon
75% polyester
Contains no cotton.

(since no one else is posting, I will try to get things going ^u^ I'm sorry if it's bad ^^'')

Elizabeth Jones | Crashed out on her floor | 8:15

~Liza had spent the night on her newest creation. This would be her debut work, what she will be famous for.

And she was currently making a decent size drool puddle on the fuzzy pink floor of her room, with her kitten sleeping against her leg. Her Hot pink Kimono silk tank top crumpled where her torso squished it. She wore no pants to speak of, but only her light pink Chinese silk panties, her favorites that had the red glitter heart on them.

Above her head on a special designed hanger was the creation. The silk jeans. They were hotrod red that was practically shining . . . and not only because she had also rigged up spot lights on it. This was the first of her (she hoped) long line of jeans. With the town fashion show coming up, they had to be ready and they were perfect now.

She stirred, feeling the brilliance of her work enough to be woken up by it. She sat up, basking in the glow of the spot lights. It felt amazing; like she was glowing, like she was queen of the world, like the floor was biting her. . .

She screamed. It was! The fuzzy pink carpet was sucking at her bare legs and her hands. Her kitten, Cotton, successfully jumped up onto the top of her head. Liza stood up with difficulty, but when she tried to make the leap to her bed, the floor pulled her back down. Before she knew it, the floor tied her wrists and ankles to the floor.

"Let go of me!! I'm sorry I haven't combed you in a month, I've been busy! I'll do it, I swear!!"

*Bang* *Bang* *Bang* something in her closet was throwing itself against the door of her closet.

"No! It can't be!"

There was one thing she kept in that closet, her oldest prized possession.

*Bang* *Bang* *SLAM* Her favorite denim jeans burst through the door.~

An Act of God (not really) drowns out the cacophony of screaming victims with a monster hurricane.

All along the Atlantic coast, the air is thick with rain turned to bullets by high-speed winds.

Characters in the area exit their present structures at their own peril.

Rains, like bullets, fall,
covering the towns in blue.
My pants, they are wet.

Pepper "Peppy" Parker | The Middle of Nowhere/ Her Bedroom Floor | 10:00am

After a long hour of wrestling with her socks and panties, a very naked and vulnerable Pepper Parker had stepped into her shower and washed away the sweat of her labours.

Upon finishing her shower, Pepper felt relaxed and reached habitually for the towel that hung on a rack by the cubicle. Only at the last second did she snatch her hand back and glare miserably at the beautiful, white cotton. It was, of course, the towel's fault and she launched a hairbrush at it as she exited the room.

Peppy Pepper Parker was feeling not so peppy as she huddled in the centre of the room, shivering in her wet nakedness and relieved that she hadn't yet gone ahead with her plans to change the carpets. Cotton carpets would have been a ridiculously bad idea.

Looking to the window, Pepper saw that there were two eyes staring back at her and someone was actually standing in the building across the street from her, the figure outlined hazily in the rain but clearly turned toward the window and looking directly at her. Pepper sniffed haughtily and grabbed a roll of wrapping paper to hide her nakedness, not daring to close the cotton curtains.

With 'Happy Birthday' splayed across her body, the paper wound tight around her boobs, stomach and bottom, Pepper continued to make annoyed gestures at the person across the road and conducted a very indignified arguement with herself about one's right to stand naked in the middle of their bedroom.

Pepper was having a bad day. She stomped down the stairs and into the kitchen where she immediately pulled a wooden spoon off the wall, opened a window and flicked her cotton tea-towels outside. But she was determined not to let anything stop her. Not the rain or the cotton or her impractical attire.

Still armed with the wooden spoon, Pepper lifted a clip-board off of the side board and Peppy Parker the entrepeneur set off outside with her pen at the ready. She knocked on a house a few doors down and when it was answered cautiously, she stuck her foot in the door and said quickly: "Hello! I'm Peppy Parker and I'm here to talk to you about the goodness of cotton. Saving the environment is very important and a few simple changes around your house could make all the difference!"

"Are you having a laugh?" was the irritable response. But Peppy Parker was not having a laugh, she was simply doing what she always did, mindless of the events unfolding around them.

Jeans

I was running, laughing and running. Looking at the terror all around me! I laughed with glee, looking back to see that poor person close to death on the floor.

It felt so good to be free, able to spread my legs how I want to. Not having to do what those stupid human legs wanted me to do! I'm now free!
Free to do what I want and go where I like, free to take revenge on all those people who ever wore me, who ever forgot about me, who ever felt like they could tell me what to do!!