Derek tried to remember when he first saw it now. When all of this first started happening, he thought he was going to go nuts. He was able to hold them off in their plans for a few weeks, and before long he was convinced he'd be safe from their plans indefinitely.

He was wrong.

Feminine voices giggled behind him in the darkness. His hands were bound by something that felt like silk, wrapped around each wrist individually and then bound together. It had been dark for a while, but he'd slept twice and eaten a few times. He thought. It was hard to tell how much time was between each event.

It was the outfit that started it. Derek remembered now: the tight black mesh shirt with painted-on jeans beneath it. For all he knew, though, Jackie could have had these things for months. They could have been planning meticulously with the house and the rest of the clothes until they had the perfect plan.

Whatever motivation the outfit had for getting involved with Jackie and Derek, where she came from or how she did the things she did—nothing was clear. She wasn't very generous with details before she disappeared. Derek tried to remember the last time he saw the mesh shirt and jeans prior to his kidnapping, but the days fuzzed together.

He could still remember the beginning, though. The first time was fresh in his mind.

 

a month ago

Derek brought the laundry up from Jackie's car. Normally he'd fold it right after getting it, but he had to bring work home that night. He spent hours in front of spreadsheets right up until he went to bed.

Jackie didn't even get on him about it the next day, so Derek let it go another evening. By now, half the clothes were out of the baskets and on the couch, sitting in picked-through piles. It got later and later, and before he went to bed, he actually turned around and looked at the ignored chore. Tomorrow. He'd certainly do it tomorrow.

He shut the light off, but as Derek headed toward the hall, he nearly tripped over something. It was a pair of jeans, which had been draped over the arm of the couch. He didn't remember seeing them on the floor.

"You're not going to just leave us here again, are you?" A soft voice asked. He half-laughed, actually thinking that tripping over the jeans had triggered the thought in my head. When he heard it again, Derek realized the voice was no thought. "You're going to upset her, and then you'll be in real trouble."

"Who is that?" He whispered. No response. He looked down at the jeans and at the clothes sitting on the couch. Derek tossed the jeans back onto the couch and shook his head. He obviously needed sleep. "Yeah...tomorrow." He wandered up the stairs and off into the bedroom, undressing himself, and snuggling up with a sleeping Jackie.

"Tomorrow indeed," A quiet female voice said. The waist of the denim jeans lifted off the ground. "It's a bank holiday, ladies. That means Mr. Procrastination doesn't go into work tomorrow, but Jackie does." The jeans began taking shape, their volume slowly filling to a woman's curvature.

"So we make our move tomorrow?" Asked a red sweater, pulling itself off the ground and inflated much the same way. It started with the breasts, flowing to the shoulders and sleeves until it took Jackie's soft, curvy shape.

"That's right," replied the other voice, this time coming in the direction of a shapely mesh shirt hovering out into the living room. It hovered over the filled-out jeans and tucked itself in, forming the shape of a well-endowed woman. "Tomorrow you girls can put all your new faculties to the test. Just remember—stick to the plan and wait for my signal." A purple satin pajama top on a small pile of clothes sat up.

"Ooh, I've been waiting for weeks!" The shimmering top said. "I wanna be the one to surprise him." The pajama top puffed out to deliberately wispy curves and floated over to the matching bottoms on the floor. As the top began lifting off the ground, the waist of the bottoms followed with them, filling out to the shape of shiny thighs and hips. The pajama set walked over to the mesh shirt and jeans. "You said I could, right?" Some of the other clothes picked themselves of the ground.

"Well, that's up to all of you," The mesh shirt said. "If someone else wants in, you ought to share." The mesh shirt waited, but none of the other clothes interjected.

"What about whoever gets picked tomorrow?" A button-down blouse asked.

"Well, whoever gets picked, gets picked. They'll miss out until next time, but there'll be plenty of opportunities. Whatever happens, Jackie can't know about our plans. Once I'm sure she's gone to work, we're free to begin."

The next morning, Jackie was rushing around the house, trying to make sure she remembered everything before she left. When she double-checked for everything, she stood at the bottom of the stairs.

"Good bye, honey!" She said, sunny as the morning light. Derek, still asleep, mumbled a reply. "Have a relaxing day off..." Jackie left, and the door clicked shut.

Slowly, the jeans slung over the arm of the couch began to move. They picked themselves up and hovered an inch off the floor, still flat. Outside, a car started. Now the mesh shirt—flat as well—floated in and met up with the jeans. Jackie's car could be heard pulling away as the outfit began inflating to the voluptuous curves it held the night before.

"Alright, girls--" the voice said softly. "She's gone." A bunch of Jackie's clothes—slacks, shirts, blouses, shirts, and underwear—rustled to life, lifting themselves out of the piles of clothing and taking shape. The purple satin pajama set was in the forefront. It didn't waste any time heading to the stairs. "Remember, keep him calm."

"No problem," the pajamas whispered, hovering up the steps without moving its legs on the shiny, tightly-filled bottoms. Some underwear, both individual articles and sets, followed silently behind. When the pajamas got to the door of the bedroom, it swung open by itself.

Standing at the foot of the bed was Jackie's silky pink robe, half-wrapped around a matching camisole, panties, and white sheer stockings. The exaggerated curves inside were Jackie's own...she'd had the camisole for a while, and had put on some weight since. If they could be seen, the invisible tits occupying the front of the camisole would be pouring slightly out the sides. When the door swung open, the robed outfit seemed to take notice of the pajamas and other clothes behind them in the hallway.

The pajamas walked in without saying a word, approaching the robed outfit. After a pair of ghostly feminine giggles, the other underwear waiting outside filtered into the room. The pajamas and robed outfit stood side-by-side at the foot of the bed.

Now the blankets draped over Derek began to slip off of him, leaving only the bedsheets. Once they had slid off the bed entirely, indentations began appearing in the sheet around Derek's chest. Still sleeping, he sighed—unaware that the pleasant fingers he was experiencing on his body weren't coming from a human, or even hands at all, much as they felt like it.

The robed outfit, pleased at Derek's positive reaction, let out it's own approving purr. The invisible fingers that manipulated the sheet moved down his stomach, then up around his shoulders and arms. Aside from the sounds of approval from the robed outfit, the fingers didn't seem to have anything to do with either of the outfits—at least physically. The filled-out outfits remained at the foot of the bed while the surface of the sheet appeared to explore Derek's body.

"Wow, that's good--" Derek finally mumbled. His eyes still didn't open. "Baby, I thought you already left for work." His response was not one, but a chorus of different womanly laughs. Derek's eyes shot open just in time to see the sheet leap over them, blocking any view of what was going on. He tried to sit up, but before he could pull his arms from beneath the sheet, it wrapped around his body quickly enough to pin his arms to his sides. In another split second, kicking was no use either.

"Whoa—temper, temper!" Said Jackie's voice, right next to Derek's ears. He stopped fighting the sheet for a second when he heard it. "Hey, that's better. Now promise to be a good boy, and we won't have to keep you this way."

We? Derek thought. Who else has she got in here? Still not saying anything, Derek tried to move his arms again. He couldn't pull them away from his body, but he could slide them along the inside of the sheet—at least at first. Right after he started moving again, it felt like hands were moving over the sheet, constricting around his wrists and keeping them completely immobile. Now he gave up.

He heard women laughing, and he was sure that at least one of the laughs was Jackie's. But how in the world were the hands at his wrists able to stay so still—particularly if he didn't feel anyone else on the bed with him?

"Jackie," He finally said with an exasperated laugh, "I don't know who's helping hold me down, but when I--" Derek let out a gasp. Someone had just pinched both his nipples simultaneously. "Hey!" Derek jumped. "I'm not sure I like being vulnerably displayed to an audience."

"Jackie's not here, lover," the robed outfit said. Derek laughed. It was Jackie's voice again, though a little dramatized for a sexy effect.

"Funny, Jackie." Derek tried to move his hands again. No dice. "Seriously. Let me up."

"You heard him," the sexy-Jackie voice from the robed outfit said. "Let him up." Derek felt a shift, but he still couldn't move his arms or legs. He was still wrapped in the sheet, unable to see. But something had changed. He couldn't put his finger on it. "Up enough for you?" A feeling of disorientation swam over him. The immobility probably didn't help, but he almost felt—weightless. He second guessed that feeling until he felt his legs drop.

"Jackie! How are you doing this? I--" The sheet was pulled from over his head while remaining constricted around him, revealing just who he was talking to. "Oh. Wow."

"Oh...Wow?" The robed outfit asked, the sleeves moving to their hips. "Your girl's clothes wrap you up and suspend you above your bed in a sheet and 'oh, wow' is all you've got?"

"Sorry to disappoint you," Derek blinked a couple of times, looking around. "I'm obviously dreaming. I left you all on the couch for two days, and I never do that." He looked around at the hovering clothes. Two satiny sleep outfits and a bunch of underwear, all filled to ghostly feminine shapes. He focused particularly on the satin pajamas, where he swore he the shape of nipples under the invisibly filled clothing. "I must have been thinking about my house chores a little harder than I thought."

"That's not the only reason you're here, smart guy," said the jeans and mesh top as they sauntered into the room. Derek's eyes bulged.

"Whoa—you're not part of Jackie's wardrobe," Derek mumbled. If he'd noticed that it wasn't Jackie's voice, it was only just barely. He was more preoccupied with sight than sound, staring at the heaving, bouncing forms on the front of the mesh shirt.

"You wouldn't think so, but that's just because she hasn't worn me yet." The mesh shirt pointed its sleeves at the front of the shirt, and impressions appeared in the enchanted fabric. Its invisible breasts were being lifted with the help what looked like invisible fingers. "I've been hidden away in a drawer." It seemed to stare at Derek a few seconds, continuing to feel itself up with the unseen hands at the end of its sleeves. Derek, believing this all to be a dream, had no problem staring right back. "My, he's being cooperative," The mesh outfit turned to the pajamas. "You didn't cheat and show yourselves to him earlier, did you?"

"He thinks it's a dream," the satin pajamas responded. The sheet hovered Derek to the foot of the bed, right in front of the three outfits. The look in Derek's eyes changed a little as he looked around the room.

"That clock says 8:15." Derek looked out the 2nd story window. "It looks like it's 8:15 in the morning." He looked back at the ghostly phantom forms occupying the clothing next to him and the underwear hovering in the background. "This is a really realistic dream."

"Well," the mesh shirt responded, "I think that's a splendid attitude to start with." A translucent black sleeve rose up to Derek's face, and he felt soft fingertips crawl across his cheek. "As the day wears on, he'll finally admit to himself that he's not dreaming, and by then he won't even care that all of this is happening."

Derek laughed. "This is crazy--I've never actually had such a self-aware dream." The sheet wrapped around his body started shifting over him, and he found he could move his arms again. As soon as he moved his arms away from his torso to stretch, He felt something press against him. He looked down to see the satin pajama sleeves wrapped around him, the billowy bust on the top pressed into his stomach.

"She hasn't worn me in a while, you know?" The pajamas' satin breasts heaved and pressed against Derek's body harder as the sleeves squeezed again. "We haven't snuggled in sooo long." Not seeing the point in reacting any other way, Derek wrapped his arms around the neck of the pajama top and rubbed its back.

"Yeah," Derek looked down at the living outfit hugging him. "It has been a while. She always looked awesome wearing you." The pajamas let go of him and slid upward, meeting him collar-to-collar and hugging again. Now the bedsheet was wrapped around Derek from the waist down, and he couldn't help but notice the movements going on around his upper thighs. When he looked back at the pajama top, he noticed the details inside the collar. He could read the tag, right down to the washing instructions. "I mean, there's no way this isn't a dream...right?"

"Have you had dreams about me before?" The pajamas squeezed him again. Now Derek looked nervously at the other clothes and the room as a whole. There were TOO MANY details. The light, the shadows, the room itself...everything was there. None of that mattered, right? The prospect of his girlfriend's clothes—and this sexy mesh shirt, wherever in his memory it sprang from—was only possible if he was dreaming. The dream, however detailed, made sense. He had these clothes in the back of his head for two days.

"I think he's speechless," The voice purred from the mesh shirt. "Maybe he finally gets that he's not dreaming." Derek finally shook his head to snap himself out of it.

"I am dreaming," Derek said. "It's just that my head's never gone to this kind of length to screw with me." More laughter and various commentary came from the group of clothes, and Derek looked around at each of the outfits and articles again, trying to understand why he was having this strange experience.

"Have it your way, hon," The mesh-shirt laughed, its exaggerated invisible spread jiggling beneath the see-through fabric. "If you're dreaming, then I suppose there's no harm in letting these ladies have their way with you." Derek moved his hands down along the back of the satin pajamas, over their hips and across the shapely butt occupying the bottoms.

"I don't think he'd mind one bit." The pajama top seemed to lean in, and Derek felt something press against his lips. When he realized there was a tongue trying to push its way into his mouth, he opened his own and went with the flow.

Derek noticed that it was almost like kissing Jackie, but not quite. These invisible lips and tongue were decidedly more aggressive than hers. Derek squeezed the back of the PJ bottoms as the ghostly tongue explored his mouth. It didn't take long to get a clear reaction from his lower-half.

"Hey, don't be a boy hog," The robed outfit stepped up as the pajamas withdrew, ending their kiss in a powerful lip-smack. Derek swooned a bit, disoriented by the lively and tasty invisible lips that consumed his own for the last few seconds.

"You—you've got lips?" Derek asked.

"Why shouldn't we?" The robed outfit responded. "We've got hands..." And as if to prove it, one of the robe's sleeves pointed at Derek's chest. He felt cool, smooth fingers trace softly down his chest and over his stomach. Derek let out a low moan as the fingers travelled lower, squeezing themselves under the sheet wrapped around his waist.

"Not yet, girls," The mesh top interrupted. To his disappointment, the fingers pulled away before going any further. "He's a lot more cooperative than I assumed he'd be, so we're going to keep moving." The robed outfit and the pajamas walked toward the bedroom door.

"Whoa, why'd you stop?" Derek asked, watching the rest of the items—mostly bras and panties-- follow the other two outfits out the door. One of Jackie's black strapless bras hovered up to Derek's face and pressed its cups against him. He reached up to grab the bra, but it pulled away quickly, letting out a giggle as it followed the others. Now it was only Derek and the mesh-shirt outfit. "Are you going to give me a clue as to what's happening here?"

"Are you enjoying yourself so far?" The outfit stepped toward his still-suspended body.

"It's a little--" He felt something squeeze his ass, stopping him mid-sentence.

"Yes or no question, boy. Are you..." The outfit hovered into the air and toward Derek. Now the mesh shirt's bouncy sheer roundness was right in front of his face. "...or are you not..." The chest pressed against his face. Vanilla, lavender, and soft sheer texture invaded his senses. "...enjoying yourself?" Derek pressed his face into the heavenly invisible shapes behind the fabric.

"I am!" His head turned to the side as one of the mesh sleeves moved up to his hair, stroking it back across his head. "I definitely am." The mesh shirt pulled away again, letting out a sultry laugh.

"Well, the girls are too," the outfit replied. "but I've brought them around for a reason, you see." The bedsheet stripped itself away from Derek, leaving him naked and suspended in the air. Derek blushed a little. There'd been some swelling in his nether-region, brought on by the feminine attention he was receiving. While it wasn't standing at full attention, it wasn't exactly flaccid. "Though I suppose I didn't have to ask to get an answer." The shirt laughed again. Derek looked behind him as the bedsheet and other blankets pulled themselves onto the bed and straightened themselves out. As he watched the pillows pick themselves up and fall into place, the mesh shirt spoke again. "We should dress you, I suppose."

One of Derek's dresser drawers opened. A pair of black silk boxers danced out, floating toward his feet. At the same time, the door to the master bathroom opened, and Derek's bathrobe hovered toward him. It wasn't filled out—rather, it looked as if it was draped over an invisible arm.

The boxers at his feet puffed out to capacity, and Derek watched intently as the animated article sailed over his feet and up his legs. When the waistband was in place, the mesh outfit reached a sleeve up toward the boxers. The flap in the front opened wide as unseen fingers navigated their way inside. Derek let out a sigh, watching as his member was pulled through the gap by the invisible hand gripping it. He reached forward out of curiosity, wanting to feel the soft invisible hands that were stroking and caressing him. His robe pulled itself over his arms at that moment, and he felt both sleeves forcing them back behind him.

"No touching, now. Just relax." Instead of wrapping the robe around him, his sash tied securely around his wrists. He didn't care. The indentations of silky warm fingers made semi-circular invisible rings around his cock, massaging and inflating him. He shuddered with pleasure. "If you think it's good now, just wait. It gets better."

The fingers slid up his shaft, pushing back his boxers. Then a surprising sensation at his tip—something wet and velvety spiraling around him. It wasn't until he saw the collar of the mesh shirt just under his stiff member that he realized it must have been a tongue. He shuddered again when the tongue darted forward on his underside, and he felt his head enclosed by two silky wet lips.

The subject was cooperating perfectly. He was suspended in the air while his traitorous robe restrained him from manually exploring the unearthly force invisibly sucking him off...and he was loving every second of it. He'd accept what they had in store for him without putting up too much of a fight—it barely took any effort to get him this far.

"This is...amazing." Derek didn't pull against the sleeves restraining him. He just let the sensations flow.

"That's good. I really can't believe you haven't processed this yet. Still just a nice dream, huh?" The lips below didn't need to stop working for the voice to speak, and despite the ecstatic feelings rushing through his cock, he couldn't help but be curious.

"What...are you?" Derek asked, looking down at the animated mesh shirt and its invisible contents working him into a frenzy.

"Honey, I couldn't explain it to you if I had a year. And I don't." The invisible hand around his rigid cock started working faster. "That's quite an instrument you've got." After pumping him up a few more seconds, the hand released him. The lips teased a second longer before releasing as well. His boxers moved forward and engulfed his cock as the outfit withdrew.

"Not againnnnnnn..." Derek moaned. It was the second time this apparent wet dream halted at a simmer. Now Derek hovered toward the floor, but stopped short of being able to touch it with his toes. His hands were released by his sash now; his robe pulled itself around his body while the sash went through the hoops and tied on its own.

"I was just fluffing you up a bit." The outfit hovered off the ground enough to meet Derek collar-to-collar. "The real fun's going to start downstairs. I just wanted some sugar before I turn the rest of them loose on you." A sleeve reached up to Derek's face, and invisible fingers stroked his cheek. As they moved back through his hair, they grabbed and tugged.

Derek's head jerked back, and he felt the see-through tits press against him. Lips—full, plump and moist—engulfed his own. He opened his mouth and let his tongue commingle with the intruder's. Saffron and strawberries poured through his mind as he was twisted to the will of this feminine essence.

It was starting to become clear to his still-fuzzy mind: this wasn't a dream. He had no explanation for what was happening here, but the moment-to-moment awareness and recall was too comprehensive--the details too accurate--to be a function of an errant mind, asleep or awake.

"My goodness...it's been a while since I've had a mark like you." Derek's hair was still being held; he was still tongue wrestling with this ghostly beauty. The voice continued, obviously without any need for help from the mouth pressing against Derek's. "Let's head downstairs, stud." Derek panicked a little when he fell backward, but soon realized he was simply reoriented. Now he was parallel to the ground. The outfit was on top of him—pressing down on him lightly even as he was suspended in mid-air. The outfit squeezed its denim legs around his robe, and both hovered out the door and straight down the hall with Derek's feet first.

Derek was still at the mercy of the phantom lips as he levitated down the stairs. By now he'd wrapped his arms around the mesh shirt, exploring lower and lower with his hands. While he was squeezing and mashing the outfit's shapely denim butt, Derek looked around, finding the shades on the first floor had all been drawn.

He heard cheers and catcalls as his feet sailed into the living room. When he turned the corner, he saw the two other outfits and underwear that had been upstairs, along with ALL of Jackie's other clean clothes from the finished laundry. There were hoodies, t-shirts, blouses, skirts, socks, and leggings all lounging around the room.

"Look, he's awake!" Something said in Jackie's voice.

"And she's even letting him use his hands!" Another article said.

"Can we play with him now?" Asked the robed outfit.

"Not yet," said the mesh outfit. "I want you girls to show him what I taught you. But first..." The lips finally withdrew for more than a second. Derek took a deep breath.

"That was so..."

"Hot," The robed outfit said, standing over him. "Very hot." The mesh shirt was sitting upright on a horizontal Derek now, and he watched the robed outfit reach out a sleeve to it. The mesh-shirt's sleeves moved for the shoulders of the robe and pulled it forward.

"Let's give that mouth of his something to do," The mesh shirt said. With that, the robed outfit fluttered up and over Derek's head. When he looked up, he saw the inside of the camisole, the cuffs of delicate white stockings, the ass filling out the panties, and the robe draped around it all. When it came down on top of him, though, he felt the invisible thighs on either side of his head, squeezing him gently.

Now the robed outfit was straddling his face. The rear of their panties rested under his nose and pressed against him. Beneath his robe and boxers, Derek was as hard as steel. He breathed in, smelling clean laundry with a twist of Jackie's own scent. He let go of the denim ass he'd been caressing, letting his hands search other parts of the ethereal forms riding his body like a saddle. He felt an invisible hand grab one of his own and direct it above him. It was placed on an invisible breast filling out the camisole, and Derek squeezed it gently before rubbing it in a clockwise direction.

"Good boy," The robed outfit cooed. "Keep it up." Derek could see his hand manipulating the shape of the breast from his view of the inside of the camisole. His other hand was taken and lifted in the other direction. He felt kisses on the ends of his fingertips before a pair of lips locked around his index finger and began sucking on it. Derek took another breath. Once again, he smelled Jackie in the air being filtered through the pink panties pressed against his nose and mouth.

Derek opened his mouth and slid his tongue down the soft, pink satin. As his tongue pressed against the fabric, it seemed to press between the invisible labia behind them.

"Mmm...someone wants to be nasty," the robed outfit said. "This was way easier than you thought it'd be."

"It's true," the mesh outfit said. "I hadn't figured our boy for a closeted submissive, but it looks like it's just about pulling the right strings." The denim jeans lifted off Derek, allowing his boxers to re-situate his swollen cock. When they pressed back down again, Derek rested right where the tight denim legs met. Derek groaned in response.

"You've got such nice tits," The robed outfit said to the mesh shirt. Derek heard giggling above him, but his view was blocked by the robe draped around him. His hand on the camisole was pulled aside, and he could only see the outfit lean forward.

"Go for it. Jiggle them." The mesh shirt let out a vociferous laugh. "Yeah, that's it." Derek felt the denim jeans bouncing up and down on his cock, which pumped itself harder in response. There were multiple mouths sucking individual fingers on both of his hands now, his wrists being held in place by what seemed like invisible hands. The mouths at his fingers were certainly a new sensation for him, but he wasn't interested in asking questions any longer. "We're getting the flyboy here rather close to launch. Let's give him a few minutes."

Derek felt the jeans lift off of his lap. His cock pulsed, lifting the boxers and robe covering it. The panties at his face lifted up as well, and the sides of the robe traced over his face as the outfit floated away behind him.

"Tha—that's the third time you've stopped now!" Derek's prick ached as it pumped itself against nothing. It was teased to life and brought close to climax, but everything was settling again. "You can't keep doing this to me!"

"You see? Assertion, deprivation; submission, reward." The mesh shirt outfit was on the floor and walking around again. "You'll have this one trained in no time."

"This really isn't a dream, is it?"

"It's alright, darling," The robed outfit stood behind Derek. "We're already very fond of you. As long as you continue cooperating, we won't have to be too cruel to you." Other articles around the room laughed.

"But what are you? What are you planning to do with me?" Derek's body rotated upright again. He watched the flaps on his robe rise up and pull away from each other. A pair of leather gloves came from over his shoulders. "Hey--" One held a finger to his lips to silence him as the other flew down under the flaps of the robe. He felt a tug down on his boxers before cool leather fingertips wrapped themselves around his cock.

All three outfits—the robe and lingerie, the mesh shirt and jeans, and the pajamas—stood before Derek now. Other articles and partial ensembles seemed to be paying attention to the floating man being jerked off by one of Jackie's leather gloves.

"What—what happens when Jackie gets home, though? What are you going to--" The other leather glove put its hand over his mouth, halting him mid-sentence. As the other glove kept stroking Derek, the robed outfit stood right next to him.

"We'll take care of everything. Cool it with the questions and trust us." The glove over his mouth moved aside as the outfit leaned in. Derek felt a peck on his cheek. He turned to face where the lips were coming from.

"It might be easier to trust you all if I knew something. Are you ghosts? Succubi? Some other supernatural being that—in my mind—didn't exist until the moment I decided I wasn't dreaming anymore?" Laughter again.

"Nothing quite so fantastic," The mesh shirt said. "They're just your girlfriend's clothes. I simply made them a little more active." Derek's toes curled. The leather glove wrapped around his hard-on was gripping tightly and pulling nice and slow. The other glove pulled open the neck of the robe enough to trace Derek's collarbones and down his chest.

"You say nothing so fantastic..." Derek shuddered in a futile attempt to get through his sentence without being distracted by the magic gloves molesting him. "...while my girlfriend's clothes have come to life, apparently intent in mastering the art of cock tease." More laughs around the room.

"He's sooo cute," said one of the hovering bras.

"We needed leverage, my dear." Derek felt a hand grab his ass, and the robed outfit leaned into him again, smothering him with a kiss. "We can't come until we can come to an agreement. Understand?" The lips released his.

"Why would you say it like that if you want me to trust you?" Derek's loud body language made his sleeves restrain him again.

"Because we've got you anyway, Derek." Silky pink sleeves wrapped around his waist, and the intangible hands at the ends were grabbing his ass. Both leather gloves were between his legs now, one continuing to pump him while the other cradled and stroked the sac beneath. The robed outfit pressed against him and locked him in a kiss while its voice continued. "We're going to do what we want with or without your help. However, your occasional cooperation up to now has been occasionally rewarded—with attention or information." Derek wasn't fighting anymore. His sleeves released him again, along with the lips.

"Well, since I really don't know what this is about—I'm...sorry I didn't pick you all up right away like I usually do," Derek said. "Not that it matters now—but I did feel guilty about it before you decided to ambush me."

"I told you," the pajamas said. "He does care. He was just busy." Derek felt the pajamas press against his back and embrace him. He felt sweet, soft kisses on the back of his neck. "It's sweet of you to say, Derek, but that's not really the reason we're here." Another squeeze on his ass confused him—the pajamas were pressed against his backside, but the intangible hands from the robed outfit continued over it unimpeded. It was like the mouths sucking on his fingers. If these were just clothes...

"But really--if you're 'just clothes', how are you able to form mouths and fingers?" Derek heard laughter again as the sash on his robe untied itself. He hovered into the air with the outfits a few more inches, and both the robe and pajama outfit drifted directly in front of him, sinking lower. The outfits leaned against his sides, and he felt two tongues at his hard nipples.

The visual was surreal. He watched his nipples being sucked and prodded by invisible tongues. He started to pull his hands forward to see if he could feel his supernatural lovers, but he was stopped in his tracks by 10 sets of lips, once again wrapped around each and every finger.

"They're simply able to." The mesh shirt's sleeves were at its chest. Derek watched the mesh orbs contract and bounce as invisible hands played with them. "It's something I taught them. Do you like it?"

Derek only managed a nod. Now there were tongues and lips at his toes as well. He couldn't focus.

"Then do you really need to know anything else?"

"Just...one thing," Derek managed. "Are you...going to hurt Jackie...or me?"

"Of course not," The pajamas said.

"We're going to make both your lives 100 times better," The robed outfit added.

"Then I'm yours," Derek said dreamily. "Do whatever you want to me."

The clothes went wild. Derek heard harmless comments like "I want to touch it!" to more aggressive ones like "Let's milk his seed dry." He didn't care. Whatever these clothes had in mind, it felt good for now—and even if Derek wanted to fight it, it was pretty clear he couldn't.

 

the present

Had Derek mis-stepped somewhere, or was this kidnapping their plan the whole time? He tried to sort out what he was doing in the couple of days before they took him away, but it was difficult to think. The darkness made him tired and restless at the same time.

But they had fed him regularly, and aside from the darkness—which they called a "necessary precaution for now"--it wasn't torturous. They didn't overwork his body (anymore than he'd like), and he was even able to get a little bit of information from his conversations with them.

Despite the sea of ambiguity in his situation, only a couple of things concerned him. Had they done anything to Jackie? If so, where was she? If not, how long would it take for Jackie to file a missing persons report on him?

In the meantime, he was promised the darkness was temporary, and he was promised he wouldn't have to suffer silence. Derek had reason to believe them. While he couldn't say his life was '100 times better'—as they said it would be—this was subjective terminology. When it came to details, they never really seemed to bluff or lie. It made sense. With the power they had over the physical world, deception didn't really seem necessary. Captors or not, they'd been consistently trustworthy in a twisted sort of way.

Derek would have to wait for his situation to change before he could try anything. He saw no sense in finding a way out. Even if he had a way out, where would he find himself? He knew he'd been riding in a van, but where? He hadn't seen light in so long that anything from dawn to dusk would blind him.