Karkat warily eyed the fabric in front of him. He did not know what in the hell possessed anyone to make the horrible abomination of clothing that lay before him and only felt growing contempt and disgust for it.
He growled lowly, eyes wandering up and down, scanning the light gray cloth and meticulously categorizing every detail that he loathed about it. Large, obnoxious pockets mocked him from each side. The metal zipper and button flaunted themselves in front of his narrowing eyes. Even the color clearly taunted him with its hue so close to that of his own skin, but he could not forget about the largest, most vile misdemeanor that the atrocious garment committed.
The fabric that would normally stretch comfortably from his thighs to his waist would cover his head if he dared to cross the invisible line between normal and insane, giving into the idiocy on the other side, and wore the repugnant leggings.
He let out a harsh laugh. He would never dare to don such a pathetic excuse for pants that so obviously ridiculed him. The mere thought made his stomach turn with disgust, but as he sneered down at the gray apparel, he felt something else stir inside of him.
Oh gog, he thought, mentally cursing himself both for his horrid use of a term so ridiculous that only an ignoramus like John Egbert could have invented it and for the new development in his own perfectly acceptable pants.
He had a hate boner for pants, hideous and comically inconvenient pants. Insulting the attire only strengthened his hate and, in consequence, his arousal. Fighting back incoherent noises that would surely show his pleasure, Karkat stood in tense silence, glaring until he could take no more.
Cursing foully, the troll ripped off his current pants and plunged his legs into the awaiting breaches. Shifting around, he did his best to get comfortable.
The pants were snug to say the least, and they pinned his arms firmly to his sides. The restrained limbs and the slight discomfort they provided were the least of his worries though. The garment's binding grip easily betrayed its roomy appearance, and Karkat found his crotch tightly held by the confining fabric.
This only increased his enjoyment, and he could feel waves of pleasure from his bone bulge as he unconsciously rocked back and forth, letting the pants rub against him. He struggled to extricate his arms and grasp at his arousal, but the pants provided no leeway. Now unable to control his moans, his hate for the object grew more and more. A particularly strong wave of ecstasy washed over his body, and gasping, he fell to the ground.
Out from beneath the haze of excitement he felt, rationality reared its head. He would need a bucket soon. Forcing himself up, the young troll valiantly tried to retrieve his pleasure receptacle, wobbling unsteadily across the room, but this was in vain.
Moaning audibly, Karkat released the pressure inside him, watching in a daze as the red liquid seeped through the pants. He stood transfixed by the spectacle, slowly regaining his composure.
He glared spitefully at the clothing wrapped about his legs and shifted fitfully in the damp leggings until he successfully rid himself of the hated article.
Muttering disdainfully, Karkat moved to dispose of the pants but hesitated midway. He glanced contemplatively at them before heading out to wash them. They could always be of some use later.