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"Why is everyone so mean to me?" Raggy whimpered pathetically, voice clipping like Carl from Jimmy Neutron. "They all laugh at my efforts, no matter how hard I try."
"I know that feeling," Glodell nodded.
Raggy sobbed. "Do you...believe in me?"
"No," said Glodell. "But I believe in this."
The pimp elf shoved his tongue down Raggy's throat. Raggy threw out his burlap gyat whorishly, loosening at the seams.
"I may be a Piecey," Raggy moaned into Glodell's oral cavity. "But you make me feel whole."
Glodell broke the kiss to slap Raggy across the face (erotically) before tying up his thread-borne rope arms. "Nice weave, slut."
"Um, actually I'm knit-stitched-" Raggy cried, before getting slapped again (this time not erotically.)
Glodell didn't care. He ripped a new hole into Raggy and shoved his modest-to-small shlong in.
"Why...?" asked Raggy as the memories hit. He hadn't been a hat or a scarf or a pair of gloves in his past life as a beloved article of clothing; he'd been a cum sock.
"MY STAR IS RISING!" Glodell screamed in ecstasy. "WITH ME NOW, HECTOR!"
"I guess this is all I'm good for after all..." Raggy, being knit, slowly unraveled until there was nothing left.
Glodell bowed his head in shame, suddenly disgusted with himself for fucking a sentient potato sack. He walked back to his gauntlet runner, opened his liquor cabinet, and drowned his misery until he passed out.
The next morning, Glodell awoke in a pile of his own vomit, the taste of Raggy lingering on his tongue.