Title: A Brief History of Mitt
Author: Scarlet
Email address:
scarletsfiction@yahoo.com
Pairing(s): Mitt/Many…use your imagination
Category: First Time, Drama
Rating: PG
Summary: The Story of Mitt
Author's Notes: This little fic was in answer to Katie's challenge.
She wanted to know where our Mitt friend came from. Here's one theory…
And thanks to Katie for the beta. I also referred to two Mittfics I
could remember, although I'm sure there have been more-I just
couldn't think of them.
______________________________________________________________________
Creation. Birth. In the beginning there is always darkness. At least
this is what my First Carrier told me. I don't know the day of my
birth. I don't know the place of my nativity. But I knew my First
Carrier.
I'd always known I was different, the only feeling being among the
unanimated. No one knew my pain. No one knew my worth. No one until
Him. My Carrier gave me purpose. He set my destiny in motion. From
the first painful thrust into my soft depths, my Carrier taught me
who was the master. But in the beginning, in the dark, that was what
I craved. Hanging among others of my own kind, knowing I alone held
autonomy. I wanted to be claimed, used, brought from the darkness
into the light. It was then that I saw him.
His voice was so different from the other Handlers that had so
causally pawed me. He was taller, darker. He sensed my sentient
nature and I knew he would be my First. I waited, impatient with the
blush of youth and `first times,' as I was carried through the place
that had never been my home into the paper depths of an unliving
Handler. Eons later, or perhaps hours, I was Filled for the first
time.
"You should be grateful I found you," he drawled, in a voice so
different from those of my First Handlers. "A `lesser' buyer would
never have seen your worth." His voice was ominous and filled with
promises of the bitter pleasure he would introduce me to. And
introduce me he did. My First Carrier was a fickle master, bestowing
blinding pleasure and scorching pain in equal measure. I hated him. I
worshiped him. In him I learned subordination, pleasure, pain.
My First Carrier.
"Tell me, friend. Do you fancy a holiday?" he asked me one day over
steaming trays of magic herbs and organs. "I believe Ripper is in
need of a good companion. He'd really get a kick out of you." By then
I had grown familiar with his bitter sarcasm.
In days I was packed, enclosed in a stifling substance and set adrift
without apparent destination. My First Carrier had bound me and
abandoned me. The betrayal cut deep. My Master. My Carrier. My Only.
I had been forsaken.
***
It is said that one can know no pleasure until one has know pain.
Well I had known pain. And, commensurate to that pain, I learned
pleasure. My new Carrier was light where my First was dark. In my
depths he found protection and I would seek only to encourage that
protection.
"Good heavens! Why in the world would Ethan send me an oven mitt for
my birthday?" My no-longer-new Carrier asked on the day we were
joined. I didn't completely understand his words, but his voice
carried every message I'd ever need to hear.
His voice was like liquid wisdom, scholarly and wise, yet his hands
told me he was more than that. My Wise Carrier had scars. He had been
hurt and I felt his pain when he slid into me. All I wanted was to
take his pain and give him pleasure, but his pride would not allow
it.
So I served. In humility, I served. I had no other master and I would
seek no other master, but I was far from content. My life was this
everyday, servitude without satisfaction. But there was pleasure, and
that was enough.
My Wise Carrier and I were together many cycles before the Day.
Content with our solitary lives, I was surprised to find myself one
afternoon Filled by Another.
"Oh, Giles! Doesn't it look perfect?" Smaller, female. I reveled in
her unique feel-smooth skin and sharp nails. She used me to lift an
enormous turkey from it's heated home. Never had I been allowed this
gift. I was flattered. Overwhelmed. But my delight was short-lived.
There was chaos there that day. I know chaos, have been firmly
introduced to the concept by my First Carrier. Before I knew what was
happening, there were many men with many sharp weapons. The air was
no longer filled with the blissful scents of cooking food but with
the odors of blood and sweat and the bitter pleasure of revenge. I
knew of battle and of grudges and there was little I could do but
remain passive and hidden until the battle was over. All things have
an end. This, I learned from my Wise Carrier.
Eventually the battle did end. My Carrier would live another day and
so I was grateful. I prepared myself to join my quilted cousins on
the pegs that had been assigned us, but my expectations were
thwarted. I was lifted; plunged into another unliving Handler and
swept from the place I had thought might be my home.
I wept inwardly. My Wise Carrier was left behind.
***
For many cycles I was alone in the dark. I was surrounded by others
that looked like me, but who did not recognized my true self. I lived
for the day my Female Carriers-I say Carriers because they were many-
would use me, let me serve them, give me a purpose. But these days
were few and far between. I lived in the darkened depths and waited.
My life was not hard, but it was a solitary one. I had little
purpose; these women had little use for me for many cycles. Alone I
stayed. Alone I waited. Waiting. Waiting for my Special Carrier, the
one I knew would come and see my worth. The one that would fill me,
know me, in that most intimate of ways. I had all but given up hope
until that day, that special day.
Patiently I had waited in the depths of a drawer. All was darkness
until…
***
"Do you expect me to take muffins out of the oven without one?" a
shrill voice sounded through the drawer.
"Try the left one…and don't mess them up!" my original Female Carrier
said.
And then there was light.
"Hey there, little mitt! Can I use you?" The greatest of all Carriers
lifted me from the drawer and stared at my soft surface. "You're
cool!"
Heaven. I was in heaven. Slim and slight, this new Handler just stood
there looking at me.
"We've gotta get muffins so hungry Potential Slayers can keep their
strength up and save the world. Do you think you can handle that?"
Could I handle that? It was what I was born to do. My higher purpose…
with Him by my side. He breathed deep and then slipped his hand into
me. The pleasure was exquisite. Together we prepared the food that
would save the world. My life *did* have a design…a destiny…I could
hardly contain my excitement.
When the food was prepared, when the female Handlers were gone and we
were no longer needed, my Special Carrier made a place for me in his
bed.
"Don't tell anyone, okay?" he whispered. "They wouldn't understand,
but I do."
I could have cried. I could have laughed. If I had a mouth or eyes I
would have done both. Instead, I let him slip inside me once again.
***
That was many cycles ago. We have fought many battles together, my
Special Carrier and I. There was the Ginger Snap Battle and the
Bananasuit battle and countless others that I can hardly remember
now. I remember a great and final battle—the almost-end of the world—
but my Special Carrier has protected me through it all. Other mitts
might be astonished at my tenacity in the face of such obstacles, but
I don't think there is anything special about what I've endured.
Knowing that in the end I found what I was searching for has made it
all worthwhile.
I know I have found my rightful place. I'm with my Special Carrier.