Notes: Now, for something completely different! My response to the Zipper challenge, brought to you courtesy of the State and Federal Government. This is what happens to your brain if you survive setting up and overseeing an audit at your facility.
Warning: not betaed, but thoroughly spell checked,
Additional warning: m/f and m/m implied, h/c implied, angst implied, oh, never mind, just read the darn thing!
Khakis
In the beginning, all was chaos. Then, piece by piece, came Assimilation. Now, We are the Collective, and We are One.
After Assimilation, We, and others like Us, came to the Place of the Choosing. We did not fear, for we are finely crafted - 100% cotton, wrinkle free, nicely tailored, pristine Khakis. We are Quality, not factory seconds or irregulars.
The time of the Choosing was quite exciting. We disregarded the Younglings, who Chose collectives many sizes too large, for they could not afford Us. Many were chosen by the Pencil Pushers, who squeezed themselves into collectives too small, and by Beer Guts, whose pendulous bellies choked their collectives. They were not for Us, We would not fit such as they.
Then, HE came in. HE was - Ideal. Tall, muscular, narrow waist, long legs, beautifully proportioned; we would fit him to perfection. We were Chosen, and all was well with the world.
Our pleasure increased, for not only did We have the privilege of being worn by HIM, HE treated Us well. HE wore Us with refined collectives like Silk Boxers and Lambswool Sweaters. We were kept neatly folded, even after wearing, and promptly laundered. We were never tossed into a heap in the corner, or crumpled up with damp towels. In return, We displayed HIM to advantage.
We soon learned not all collectives are treated so; often We were laundered with the collectives of the Other, who shared HIS dwelling. Those of the Other were often shabby, irregular, and even second hand!
Nevertheless, We lived an active life. We spent some time in the Place of Work, called the Bullpen. We often went out and about, and had opportunity to show our versatility, remaining comfortable and neat while running, jumping and taking the occasional unscheduled swim in the harbor.
We also had a fine social life, looking casual yet elegant at a number of dining establishments. HIS companions of choice on many of these social sorties were leggy redheads, and sometimes HE went to their dwellings afterward, for recreational activities. Even then, We were neatly folded or draped over a chair. When HE left in the morning, We looked as good as We did the night before.
There were a couple of narrow escapes on these sorties, too. Once, there was the Great Coffee Spill, right on Our zipper, but We recovered and survived undamaged. Most recently, it was the Wine disaster, caused by a very angry redhead. Our only salvation was that it was White wine, and not Red.
There have not been any redheads lately. In fact, HE seldom goes anywhere without the Other. All of the collectives here at the dwelling have seen much upheaval since the Event.
We never did learn all the details, since those who were worn that day are no more. We know more than most, because, along with the Green Henley, We were collected by Another, and taken to the Place of Healing. HE was quite drenched in blood, although HE was unharmed. It was the blood of the Other, and We knew great fear, for surely the Other could not survive with so much missing. HE showered, and put Us on; the blood-soaked collectives were removed, never to be seen again.
HE sat at the bedside of the Other for a very long time, and talked. From time to time salty water splashed upon Us, but still HE remained. Eventually, the Other awoke, and more salty water splashed upon Us, but we did not mind, for despite his second hand collectives, the Other pleased HIM, and that was all that was important.
Somehow, this Event changed everything. It took a while, for at first, the Other was too ill for anything. But one day, the Other was the companion for a social sortie. After dining, They returned to the dwelling, and HE set the scene for a seduction.
It was simple really. A fire, soft lighting, gentle music and a cup of tea. Soon, We were as close to the collectives of the Other as if we were laundering. The Hands of the Other fumbled at Our zipper, and We thought about sticking, since these were not the hands of HIM, but HE was making happy sounds and fumbling with the zipper of the Other, so We unzipped obediently. The next thing We knew, We were being dragged off, and thrown behind the sofa, entangled in the faded Blue Shirt of the Other.
We don't know the details of the rest of the evening. Black Silk Boxers says it is best that way, for the rest of the events were noisy and rather sticky.
The next morning, HE came down and retrieved all the collectives strewn about the dwelling. Later, We were laundered and put away properly.
Life has changed, however. Although We are not often tossed about and left for the night, it does happen. More likely We are hung haphazardly over the back of the chair, with those of the Other. We are put away with collectives of the Other, now, too. HE has seen to it that the wardrobe of the Other contains fewer collectives that are irregular or second hand, so it's not too bad.
HE is happy, and that is all that is important. HE has an authority to HIS step that commands the eye, all the better for Us to display HIS assets. The Other is particularly fond of Us, too. When HE wears Us, the Other finds many excuses to touch HIS backside. HE wears Us often.
When We think back to the time of the Assimilation, and what We aspired to, We are pleased. We did not take the path We expected, but We are HIS favorite Khakis, and that was Our dream. We are very glad We are well made, so We can continue in HIS favor for a long time to come.
