I walked into the office to find, behind the receptionist’s desk, a floating wig. That’s all. Just a wig, with a pair of glasses floating along with it.

“Can I help you?” asked a feminine voice, from the vicinity of the wig.

“Uh, I guess so,” I started, staring at the wig. “But where are you?”

“Right in front of you, sir,” the voice responded, with a chuckle. Before I could say anything else, though, the wig and glasses rose into the air and hovered over the desk, making it clear there was no one wearing them.

“H-how are you doing that?” I asked, slowly backing away from the wig, which had cleared the desk and was moving towards me.

“Doing what, sir?” the voice said, in a joking tone.

“Making the wig float like that?”

“I’m not making the wig float, sir,” the voice said, “I am the wig.” It punctuated the comment by nodding the wig and glasses in tandem with the word “am.”

By this point my back was against the door; I couldn’t back up any further. Wouldn’t have mattered if I could, though, because at the point the office door locked itself behind me.

“Hello?” I called over my shoulder. “Is someone out there?!”

“No one’s out there, sir,” the voice in front of me said. “I did that.”

“But how…?”

“If I can float without a head under me, locking a door shouldn’t be a problem, now should it?” the voice asked. I didn’t have an answer for that, though it did seem to make a strange kind of sense. “Now what can I help you with?”

“Uh, I came in here to see Steve,” I said. “He didn’t tell me he had haunted clothing in his office. Where is he, anyway?”

“We’re not haunted, thank you, just alive,” the voice huffed, “and Steve didn’t know about us when he moved into this office. As for where he is, well, just follow me.” At that the wig turned around and began floating towards a door closer to the desk.

I stayed put. I didn’t know what was going on here, and I wasn’t about to jump into it without a bit more info. Among other things, what did the voice mean by “we”? I turned and tried to dart out quickly but the doorknob fell apart in my hands before I could get the door open.

“Why are you trying to run out?” the wig asked teasingly. “I thought you wanted to see Steve?”

“I do, but–” Just then a door opened, and I heard female voices coming from that direction. I braced myself for the expected screams, but instead I was the one who (at least momentarily) wanted to scream.

The voices were coming from more animated clothing. Three complete outfits, plus assorted individual items, not all of them talking, entered the room. There were other voices coming from behind the door as it closed. Most of the items that had entered turmed to me as one of them spoke.

“Must be a friend of Steve’s,” the sultry voice said, coming from a shapely black sheer mesh top and tight jeans, with strappy sandals underneath. “You just wandered in, or do we need to teach you a lesson too?”

Before I could speak, a familiar voice spoke up. “No, he’s OK! He wasn’t part of Steve’s mess, he’s actually a friend of Sandra’s. They used to work together. Some of you guys don’t know him because Sandy never wore you to work.”

Sandra?! The voice actually sounded like Sandra, a friend of mine who had recently moved out of the area to start a new job. She had always been complaining about her nightmare boss, without ever really going into detail about the problem. I had suspected, though, that it was some kind of harrassment.

The second voice had come from an outfit I recognized as one of Sandra’s: a powder-blue v-neck sweater and denim knee-length skirt, both filled out to Sandra’s former voluptuous figure, with opaque white tights under the skirt. Sandy had lost some weight since I’d last seen her in this outfit. “Hi, Bryan,” the outfit said, waving an empty sleeve.

“Uh, hello…?” I replied, not sure how to address an animated outfit of clothing, even if it did seem to have the persona of someone I knew. “Nice to, uh, see you again.” Then, I blurted out, “Could someone please tell me what’s going on?!”

A chorus of feminine voices laughed at me. As the laughter died down, the blue outfit spoke. “I take it you and Steve are friends? Or was this just a business visit?”

“Not friends, exactly,” I said, “but we do know some of the same people.” Obviously. This was supposed to be a business visit, but, um…

“Well, he was the boss Sandra used to complain about all the time. He apparently had her confused with Charmin, or a genie’s lamp, because he was always squeezing and rubbing on her. It never went farther than that, but still, she was afraid that no one would believe her and that she’d lose her job if she complained too much, so she kept a low profile until she could find a new job. We took it upon ourselves to arrange for her to be interviewed at a much better company. She had no idea that her own clothes arranged this, or for that matter that we can move around and talk. As far as she knows, we were stolen from her apartment. We were replaced by newer and fancier stuff, though, so I’m sure she didn’t mind too much that we were missing.”

“Oooooo-kay,” I said, trying to take that all in. “But why did you leave her? And why are you here with Steve?”

“He needed to be taught a lesson,” the mesh top and jeans said. “Since he likes to squeeze and rub so much, we decided to turn things around, and let him see how it feels. After all, we were being harrassed, too!” I gathered that particular outfit was one of the instigators, even if it hadn’t actually been subjected to Steve’s treatment.

“And now that you know all this,” the wig said, “do you want to see what’s up with your, um, kind-of friend?”

The blue sweater-and-skirt outfit moved towards me. It extended an empty sleeve towards me, and I felt a hand grasp mine and pull me towards the door to Steve’s office, as the outfit spoke, “I think maybe you need to see this, Bryan, even if you’d rather not.”

 

“Wait a minute,” the wig said. “Bryan? I remember hearing that name. You like this kind of stuff, don’t you?”

“What kind of stuff?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” was the only response I got, as the door to Steve’s office swung open. As it opened, I could hear loud groaning — Steve was plainly unhappy with whatever it was they were doing to him. But none of the outfits moved towards the door, because someone was coming out.

Steve floated into the room, surrounded by a flock of gloves, plus feathers, brushes, and other items. He was wearing only boxer shorts, with what appeared to be a silk or satin scarf sticking out of the waistband. He was gagged, with his wrists tied together in front of him, and his ankles tied also. He floated with his knees bent at a right angle, so his lower legs were parallel with the floor. The gloves were all busy squeezing, rubbing, kneading various parts of Steve’s body. Even the unseen end of the scarf was apparently staying busy inside Steve’s drawers. A large leather duffel bag floated along behind him.

As he passed, the mesh top said, “Steve here will never again touch the ground. Or know what it’s like to be left alone.” I thought that sounded odd. What’s such a big deal about never touching the ground?

Steve floated towards the staircase, the door opening of its own accord as he approached. He disappeared into the staircase, with the duffel bag and more items of clothing following.

“What do you say to seeing him off?” the blue outfit asked. I didn’t think it was really meant to be a question, since the outfit’s invisible hand had never let go of mine. Sandra’s generous figure had gotten many appreciative looks from me, and maybe a comment or two, but I hadn’t anticipated anything like this. It pulled me into the elevator, arriving on the ground floor just as Steve and his entourage emerged from the staircase.

The front door opened to let them all out, just as a big black GMC van pulled up. The side door slid open, revealing an apparently bald woman in gold face paint (”head” paint?) and a shimmering gold catsuit in the driver’s seat. Sandra had mentioned that her boss had seen a photo of her wearing “a gold outfit” that he’d tried to get her to wear to work on warm summer days, and this looked like that might have been it. There were no hands at the end of the woman’s sleeves. Was this Sandra?

“Hi, Bryan,” the driver said. I looked back blankly — I didn’t recognize her voice at all, and didn’t know where this woman knew me from. And because I didn’t see anything inside her mouth when she spoke.

She must have taken note of my expression, because she continued, “I know you don’t recognize the face. That’s just so people won’t freak out when they see a headless catsuit driving a van around. Soon as we get big bad Steve where we’re going, though, I’ll wipe the face off and pop these contacts out. You’ve seen me — the suit — before, though.” And I had — Sandra had done some modeling, some theater, you name it, and always found a reason to include this suit or one like it.

“Hey, Steve,” the gold outfit said, “remember you told Sandy that you wanted to see me? Well, you’ll get to see more of me that you ever dreamed.”

Steve squirmed and squealed, to no avail, as he floated up into the SUV. The duffel bag floated in behind him, along with various items of clothing and other things. The doors slid shut and the van pulled off.

“I really wanted to join that party,” the blue outfit said, turning towards me. It let my hand go and crossed its sleeves across its chest. “But I hadn’t counted on seeing you here today. So, what do we do now?”

“Huh?” I was getting a little nervous.

“You hadn’t even tried to pull free from my grip since I first took hold of your hand upstairs,” the outfit said. “That has to mean something.”

“I think it means he missed the bigger Sandy, or at least the bigger curves,” the wig replied. Up until now it had been floating next to the outfit, but as it spoke it drew near me, stopping maybe an arm’s length away.

I didn’t know just what to say to the curvy outfit. I had been really just going with the flow, trying to get a handle on what was going on. There was something I wanted to know, though…

“I have to ask,” I said, addressing the wig. “If you’re just a wig, and yet somehow you’re able to see, then what’s with the glasses?”

“I happen to like the look,” the wig said. “Don’t you like it?”

“You like the look of glasses, even though you don’t even have eyes?! How can you–”

The wig actually sighed. “Why do you keep asking why and how? If I can float and speak, then I should be able to see what I look like, right? Just like I can do this.” And without any warning sign, the wig darted closer to me as unseen lips pressed against mine.

“Umf?” I grunted, not expecting anything like that.

The wig pulled away. “Let’s try that again, shall we, this time without the resistance?” It approached again a bit more slowly, and I just went with the flow, responding when I felt the lips against mine. Instinctively my hands reached forward and felt around in the air for something to hold onto, but there was nothing there below the wig. My flailing around drew laughter from the blue outfit and some of the other items. Even the wig’s voice laughed, while the kissing continued uninterrupted.

Just as I felt a tongue gently push its way into my mouth, the wig’s voice spoke again. “I hope you don’t mind this,” it said. “It was an impulse.”

“No, I don’t mind at all,” the blue outfit said with a chuckle. “In fact, I’m enjoying this. Gives me a few ideas.”

“I know he’s enjoying it,” the wig’s voice said, as the kiss continued. “I would fill up some clothes to give his hands something to do, but I guess I should leave that part of it to you.” With that as its cue, the blue outfit stepped closer, wrapping its empty sleeves around my neck. Instinctively I wrapped my own arms around it and began to squeeze its denim butt, while the sweater dragged unseen fingertips across the back of my neck.

After a few moments of this, the blue outfit said, “I know something we can try. You might like it too.” The wig began to chuckle; apparently there was some communication going on that I did not have access to. The wig continued to kiss me, but its tongue stayed on the left side of my mouth. Then either it went into overdrive, or…there were two tongues in my mouth?!

No doubt about it, there were two tongues darting around in my mouth! This became more clear when the wig began to chuckle again while the blue outfit’s voice began to grunt and moan as the outfit kissed me.

“You know, we really should take this back inside,” the wig’s voice announced, even as it continued keeping my tongue busy.

The outfit added, “Good idea, especially since I’m pretty sure he also wants to get at these,” moving its sleeves and pointing them at its breasts, which moved in tandem with the motions of the sleeves, as if being squeezed by unseen hands.

We didn’t have to do any walking, though, because right then one (or both?) of them levitated me back inside, without either of them making any obvious effort to do so. We just floated a few inches of the ground and began moving back towards the building.

By this point the blue outfit had moved one sleeve inside its sweater; the sweater’s surface moved as if there was a hand under it, rubbing its breasts.

The floating unnerved me a bit. I’m a landlubber; I’m used to having solid ground under my feet. That’s when it dawned on me how floating would be a punishment for Steve — he’d apparently never again feel the reassurance of knowing the ground under his feet, and I guess keeping him that way was small potatoes for his captors.

Wait a minute — his captors?! Now those captors had me! Was I captured too? I had to know.

I began trying to disengage from the dueling tongues in my mouth but that proved to be tricky, since they were both immaterial. I made a disapproving grunt just as we floated into the elevator, which seemed to send the right message. Both tongues withdrew, though we were still floating.

“What’s wrong?” the outfit asked.

“Are you all arresting me like you arrested Steve?” I asked. I couldn’t hide the slight quiver in my voice.

“That was probably the plan when you first walked into that office,” the wig replied. “But not all of us knew about your past connection with Sandra.” Before the elevator door opened, the sweater pulled its sleeve out from inside itself. Then the elevator opened, and we floated out and down the hall towards Steve’s… well, his old office. As we passed the stairway door, it swung open and a crowd of clothes began following us down the hall, some walking and some floating.

“So my friendship with Sandra… saved me?” I said.

“Well, that’s the problem,” the earlier mesh-top-and-jeans outfit said from the throng of clothing. “We were gonna take Steve away along with anyone who saw us active when we got here. But now…”

“Well, how about letting me get in touch with Sandra?” I had a vague idea of where she was. Didn’t have an actual address, but I knew the city and I figured I’d be able to find her with little problem.

“No, I don’t think we can do that,” the mesh outfit said. “Sandra… some of us were unhappy with her keeping quiet about this Steve situation. There was a big argument among us before we agreed to get her new stuff to replace us, cause I for one was fine with just leaving. But in any case there’s no need to go back to her now.”

“But what does that have to do with me getting in touch with her?” By now we were back in the office, and I was put down on the floor. The chair behind the receptionist’s desk rolled around the desk and towards me. When it stopped rolling, I sat down. The blue outfit sat on my right leg, leaning against me, while the wig floated at eye level above my left leg. All the other items continued to either stand or float.

The mesh top’s voice  sighed. “If you do it while we have you, or even later, she’ll want to arrange some kind of meeting, and maybe try to get some of her clothes back.”

“So… you’re saying you’re not letting me contact Sandra at all?”

“Well… yeah, something like that,” the wig said. “We don’t intend to be mean or anything, it’s just…” Its voice trailed off for a moment, but then it continued, “If you really want to see Sandra, well, you and Miss Curvy here seem to be getting along just fine. Why not just be happy with her? We can get you some more curvy clothes to go along with her.” I guess my face reflected my feeling of disbelief, because the wig continued, “Just close your eyes, and you won’t even have to know Sandra’s not really there.”

“And what if I say thanks but no thanks?” I had to know what my options were.

“Well, we’ve been trying to be nice, but we’re not exactly negotiating here,” the mesh top said.

“So I am under arrest,” I said. So much for options.

“No, not really. I mean, you won’t be dragged off to some secret lair or anything. Unless, of course, that’s what you want…”

“What do you say about all this?” I said, turning to the blue outfit and staring at the brand label inside the neckline. “You haven’t said much since you suggested coming back inside.”

“Well, I am practically in your lap,” it responded. “I think this could turn out to be very interesting, if you want it to be.”

“If I want it to be,” I repeated. “Interesting choice of words. I feel like I should be either terrified by all of you, or furious with you all for deciding things for me, but, um… yeah, this could be interesting. How exactly is all this happening, anyway?”

“Well, I kind of brought all this other stuff to life,” the mesh-top-and-jeans outfit said. “I never belonged to Sandy. I was her sister’s. She spent the weekend at Sandy’s once and forgot to pack me when she left. She’s a clothes horse anyway, so she probably never missed me. I’ve been with Sandy’s wardrobe ever since, waiting for an opportunity and a really good reason to chance moving around. I think harrassment is a really good reason, don’t you?”

“I suppose it is,” I said. “And I kind of took you for an instigator the first time I saw you.”

“This crew needed an instigator,” the outfit said. “They were just thrilled to be mobile; it hadn’t occurred to anyone that I made mobile for a reason.”

Voices started rumbling from various outfits. I started to wonder if there was gonna be some kind of clothes-vs.-clothes incident, before the mesh top said, “Oh, come on, you softies couldn’t have pulled this off without someone around to push things along. But since you all think I’m so pushy, I’ll get out of your way. It’s about time for me to be moving on, anyway.”

The mesh top reached into a plastic bag; when it withdrew its sleeve, another plastic bag floated a few inches away from the sleeve end. The jeans lost their invisible support and just deflated, folded in air, and stuffed themselves into the bag, while the mesh top continued to float in place.

“Something I need to do before I get out of here,” the mesh top said. It floated over towards the blue outfit sitting on my leg, and moved its sleeves towards its collar. I heard whispering, and then the blue outfit rose from my lap to float by my side. The mesh top reached for me, and I felt unseen hands grab my collar and pull me up to my feet. As my collar was released, unseen lips pushed themselves against mine. My reflex was for me to put my arms around a waist, or maybe squeeze a butt, leading to more flailing as there was no waist or butt for me to squeeze. Then I reached for hands at the end of the mesh sleeves, and met only air there, too.

The mesh top’s voice chuckled as its unseen lips continued kissing me. After a few moments, the lips withdrew. “Not bad,” the voice said. “I think you and Miss Curvy here should be quite happy with each other.” The mesh top floated a short distance away, deflated, folded itself and pushed itself down into the plastic bag. “Bye, y’all,” the voice said, as the bag floated out of the office towards the elevator. I had to wonder what was with the folding into a plastic bag, when all these clothes had all been outside on their own just a short while earlier. I’d half-expected the outfit to crawl down the side of the building like some kind of Spiderwoman.

“A real piece of work,” a voice said. I didn’t need to know which piece of clothing said it, I’m sure they all felt the same way.

“Yeah, well,” the blue outfit said, “if not for her, Sandy would still be here, enduring Steve, and we’d all be stuffed in drawers and closets, wishing and hoping.”

“Where’s she going, anyway?” I didn’t need to know, I was just curious.

“No idea,” the outfit said. “We didn’t ask, and she didn’t tell.” I went over to the window and looked down. I saw the bag float away from the building towards a waiting car. The passenger door opened, the bag floated inside, and the car drove off.

“So….” I said, turning around and facing my… captors. I was at a loss for words. Apparently I was gonna be kind of a pet for animated empty clothing. How does that work? I thought I’d found some words.

“How do we make this work?” I asked.

“Well, as we speak, everything in your apartment is being loaded into a moving truck for transport to our place,” the outfit said.

“Just like that?!”

“Yeah,” the voice said, “just like that. Miss Thing tracked you and got keys copied and whatnot. Piece of cake.”

“What if I hadn’t gone along with the plan?”

“I honestly don’t know,” the outfit said. “We left all that to her. The idea was that she was in charge of, um, obtaining you, and the rest was up to us.”

Obtaining?! “And when did you work all this out, if you didn’t know I would be here?”

“Oh, we have our own way of communicating, besides speech and movement,” the outfit said. “It was worked out practically in an instant. When she asked who you were, and I told her, we basically had it worked out a few seconds later.”

“So, what happens now?”

“Well, we all float out of here and we go to our place.” And that’s what we did…