Toy Story

Woody was the most favorite toy in the box. He had been there the longest, he had been played with more than any of the other toys. Some toys had more features, like Potato Head. Some toys were taller, like Rex. Some toys were fatter, like Hamm. But no matter what toys came and went, Woody was the favorite. Most of the time when the lid to the toy box opened, Woody was the one picked. Then Buzz came.

Buzz had fancy lights, new features, and battery power. Buzz knew he was the best. Buzz knew he could do things that the other toys couldn’t. Woody and the others were jealous. They couldn’t compete with Buzz. Sentimentality had been replaced by utility.

The toys tried to get rid of Buzz. Woody especially hated him. Woody never got played with anymore. They plotted and schemed, but Buzz remained. The toys were downtrodden.

Then one night, when all seemed bleakest, she grabbed Buzz and Woody. Woody was being played with at the same time as Buzz. Buzz vibrated, Woody played, and she moaned with pleasure.

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