Why Doesn't My Discharge Bleach My Underwear Novels & Stories

A completely new life without us. I stirred harder. The milk spilled over the edge and soaked the cuff of my light blue shirt. The brown stain spread fast. I slammed the glass down on the counter. I pulled a clean dish towel off the oven handle and scrubbed the spot. The brown color just sank deeper into the fabric. I unbuttoned the shirt and pulled it off. I stood there in my thin white singlet. I dropped the shirt into the stainless steel sink and turned the cold water on all the way. I scrubbed the fabric rough under the tap.

He keeps winning my heart. I removed the phone from my ear and went to the messaging app. I texted him my house address before bringing the phone back to my ear and said, "Let's see if you'll keep to your word then." He laughed and said, "Maybe this is a challenge. Let's see how it goes." The call ended shortly, and I went to the restroom to shower. It was already evening, and I knew Daisy might wake up anytime soon. I spent so much time in the restroom because I decided to wash my underwear after bathing. I'm the type who enjoys using my hands to wash my underwear because I have this thought that the machine would not be able to wash it properly, especially the area covering the pubic regio

I grabbed a pair of blue underwear and black socks and then wandered into the bathroom to take a shower. I stayed in the shower longer than I had planned. The hot water running down my body felt amazing against my still sore muscles. I mainly stayed in the shower so long because it's nice to regularly bathe and to even bathe in clean water, not some cold pond. After I lathered my hair up with the strawberry shampoo and conditioner they had someone get for me, I scrubbed my body with a watermelon sugar scrub. They said they were told it will make my skin much softer. But how can waShing your body with sugar make you soft and not sticky?

I start scrubbing at the carpet with ferocity. “Just like you,” he counters, and then he lets out a low, guttural groan that makes my stomach do a weird little flip despite the fact that I am currently elbow-deep in a cleaning disaster. I finished the job and stood up. I didn’t look back as I hauled the bag of trash toward the door because if I see one more inch of his bare butt, I am going to lose my mind. I’ll need a very strong bleach with a high concentration of acid to clean out the live p**n image from my head.

She was shorter than them, and had never used anything from them when she was having her bath. Frantically, she hurried into the room once more and carried one of the bedside drawers into the bathroom. It was quite heavy, but she managed to do it and placed it right below the cabinets. She was sweating now, even with the cold air surrounding the room. Her dress clinged to her with stickiness as she climbed onto the drawer. The drawer was perfect for the job, because now she could see and rummage through the cabinets clearly. The overhead cabinets were filled with cans of different sizes, bleach , detergent, some tapes...

Hunter returned, holding a plastic mixing bowl in one hand and an application brush in the other. Inside the bowl was a frothy blue mixture that reeked of chemicals strong enough to make my eyes water. I recoiled slightly, nose wrinkling as I waved a hand in front of my face. “What the hell is that?” I asked, eyeing the suspicious concoction like it might come alive and eat me. He smirked, setting the bowl down on the vanity in front of me. “Powdered bleach. Gotta lighten your hair first so the pink sticks better. Otherwise, you’ll just end up with a muddy mess.”

I better be able to fall back to sleep or this day will suck big time. When my shower is complete, I pull my tampons from under the sink. I fill the sink with soapy water, placing my panties in to soak. Then I make my way to the cozy bed, calling for my return. As I prepare to slip back under the covers, I notice a large red spot in the center of the white sheet. Great. I pull off all the bedding to find both sheets stained. I make my way to the laundry room, stain treat each spot, place bleach in the washer, then start the load. I turn off the end-of-cycle-alert. Task done, I snag a quilt from the sofa before I tuck myself back into bed, pillow covering my eyes.

Across the bottom corner of the box it said Beltless. “Do you need any help?” Mom asked. “Uh, no. I think I can figure it out,” Lauren said. “Rinse out your underwear and leave it in the bathroom. I’ll put something on it to take the stains out after,” Mom said. “Okay,” Lauren said in a tiny voice. When she came out of the bathroom Mom was waiting with a bottle of Midol. She handed Lauren two of the pills and said, “You’re going to need those.”

I pull down my underwear— And freeze. A few red spots stain the fabric. Too dark to be discharge. Too thin to be anything else. For a second, I just stare. No. No, no, no. I blink once. Twice. My brain refuses to register it. It’s nothing. It has to be nothing. Maybe it’s just spotting. Maybe it’s the stress. Maybe— My knees buckle. No. Not this. Not again. It’s too soon. It’s not supposed to happen again.

He could not believe it no matter what. Jessie took a deep breath and slowly said, "Uncle Bai. The clothes you are wearing are made of the Launette Perfume Laundry, the shaved water is made of asparagus and almond juice. There is also menthol mixed together, the toothpaste is salt and soda, and so on and so forth. The hand-washing solution is the combination of cherry blossoms and orchids. You have been to the clinic in the hospital today. In the operating theater, although you took a shower and got rid of the poison, You still smell like iodine, blood, anti-inflammatory, anesthesia, and sedative."