I went back to my desk instead of the time-clock, setting the shopping bag next to my desk chair.

“What’s the matter?” the voice said, apparently watching as I turned my machine back on.

“I just want to be sure whether or not I clocked out,” I said.

The hoodie raised its hood up out of the bag and made a tongue-clicking sound, before the voice replied, “I already told you, you didn’t clock out. I was watching you for awhile before I… made a hand to slip into your pocket.”

I logged in as I continued speaking. “Yeah, I know, but I had already seen your tube top thrashing around in the bathroom, and you commented about not being able to do something you wanted to do. Since you were ‘watching’ me and palming my butt, it’s possible that maybe you missed something. Maybe you got… distracted.”

“Well…” the voice replied. “There are other cute guys here, but you’re the one I came here to see. I was watching you.”

I heard just the slightest noise coming from the direction opposite where we had come from. “Uh-oh,” the voice said softly, before I heard a couple of footsteps, and then---

“Oh my gahhhd!” I turned to see Melissa, a supervisor and the office night-owl. She regularly stayed in the office long after everyone else had gone home for the night, even after the cleaning crew had left. More than once the security guard had to politely usher her out when he made his final rounds before locking up.

But even though she was obviously surprised, she wasn’t exactly freaking out.

“What are you-- what is-- what--?” she started, looking at me, then the bag with the empty hood sticking out of it filled with a head she couldn’t see.

The hoodie stuck a sleeve up out of the bag and waved. “Um, hi, Melissa,” it said.

“How do you know my name?” she said. “And how come you sound just like Shannon?”

“There’s a story behind that,” the hoodie replied, rising up out of the bag. As it turned and reached down into the bag for its bottom half, I turned to Melissa.

“Speaking of stories, Melissa, how come you’re not freaking out?”

“You really want to know?” she said. “Follow me to my office and you’ll find out.”

Oh no, I thought, expecting trouble. I must have grunted or something, because Melissa quickly said, “Don’t worry, you’re not in any kind of trouble, but what you see in my office will kind of explain. It might embarrass you a little, though.”

I turned to the hoodie, which by this point had filled out its pink bottoms, socks, and sneakers. It was zipped, though, so I had no idea what top was under it.

“You might as well go see,” the outfit said. “But this wouldn’t have happened if you’d just listened to me instead of having to see for yourself.”

The outfit was right. When I checked the system I saw that I hadn’t signed out, just as it said. I could have done it quickly and gone home, instead of being faced with whatever was going on in Melissa’s office.

The suit walked beside me as we made our way but I thought I heard a male voice just before I stepped into the room.

The outfit and I both gasped -- in the “visitor’s seat" in Melissa’s office was a gray filled-out men’s long-sleeved polo shirt and black slacks. My clothes. And the clothes spoke with my voice.

“So you attracted some attention too, eh, guy?” my clothes asked jovially.

“Um… um…” was all I could manage. I looked at Melissa.

She held up her hands defensively. “Hey, all I know is yesterday evening about this time, I heard your voice from the direction of my doorway. I looked up to see some filled out clothes that said they were yours and spoke with your voice.” As I imagined how she might have reacted to this, she continued. “You know how I am about this place after hours. I freaked out a little bit at first, but then I knew it couldn’t be a ghost or anything like that because you’re alive. They stayed here overnight, so I didn’t know what to expect when I came in. Remember how happy I was to see you this morning?”

I remembered. She didn’t explain or anything, so I shrugged it off as some feeling that something had happened to me, a bad dream maybe.

Turning to the pink outfit, she said with a giggle, “And wow, you look just like Shannon. So you were watching this guy, huh? Or was it Shannon that was watching him?”

“I can tell you for a fact that he was hawking her,” my outfit said, chuckling.

“OMG, he sure was,” the pink outfit agreed. “But who knows? Maybe if one of them had made a move, I would never have found out I could move around like this.”

I saw Melissa looking at the pink outfit, and a sly grin crept across her face. “I just had an idea. Since this guy and Shannon were busy scoping each other, and you two outfits are here now, why don’t you two pair up?”

I had actually had that thought myself… but the hoodie outfit had said it wanted to go home with me. What home would it go to -- could it go to -- if it paired up with my empty clothes?

The two empty outfits drew close to each other, and each wrapped its sleeves around the other’s midsection.

“An interesting idea…” the pink outfit said.

“Definitely is,” my outfit continued. The pink hood drew closer to the space above my polo shirt’s empty collar and after a few moments there were lip-smacking sounds. My shirt’s sleeves moved to where the ends were right against the pink fabric butt and the impressions of invisible fingers were plainly visible.

I was a little jealous of my clothes, since I’d been in that position a little while earlier and expected to be again later.

Melissa, for her part, looked awkward and intrigued by the sight before her. I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded if they took it elsewhere, since they were in her office, but at the same time it was her idea.

Before things progressed too far, however, the pink outfit spoke again.

“Yeah, this is definitely something we should follow up on sometime soon,” the female voice said, as the kissing apparently continued. “But today, right now, I have to go with this guy.” The pink sleeve nearer to me moved from my empty outfit and extended itself in my direction.

“Hmm,” Melissa said. “This may be a silly question, but why? What’s the difference?”

“Flesh,” my outfit said. “Actual skin, instead of just another construct. No offense intended toward you, of course." From the heat I felt in my face at that moment I’m sure I was blushing. Melissa’s face turned red as well. But it clearly hadn’t occurred to either of us at that moment that there could be more than one meaning to my outfit’s reply.

“Mmm… none taken," the pink suit replied. Then, directed to the humans in the room, it continued. "We feel energy from you guys that we can't get from other clothes. Plus there's…" A pause. "Intimate contact. An intimate connection.”

I wanted to say something but I was still feeling a bit unnerved. My outfit said one of the things I wanted to say -- “I love that song!” By this point the two outfits were no longer kissing but the sleeves were extended towards one another -- they appeared to be holding hands.

“What song?” Melissa said.

“An 80s classic," my outfit said. "I'll play it for you later."

"Okay," Melissa said, "but getting back to my question, there must be a way that you guys can interact with each other that's unique to you. There has to be."

"You want to give her a show?" the pink outfit asked my clothes.

"Sure, since she insists," came the reply. I blushed a little again, and so did Melissa, as the hoodie outfit's sleeves moved to unzip itself. As it did, a white polo shirt came into view. Once the hoodie was unzipped, its sleeves gathered the hem of the polo shirt and began to pull up on it.

"We're gonna show you something similar to what you guys do," my outfit said. As it drew closer to the pink outfit, the unseen hands at the end of the hoodie's sleeves held the polo shirt's fabric just below the swell of the non-existent breasts.

"What are you gonna do?" Melissa asked, sounding a bit alarmed.

"We're gonna try to answer your question," the hoodie said, as my shirt's empty sleeves reached up into the equally empty polo shirt. I could see the outline of hands moving around against the inside of the shirt, as if they were pressed between the shirt and the form inside it.

"How do you do that when there's no body inside you?" Melissa asked.

"It's hard to explain," the hoodie said. "Not even sure I can. But I can tell you it's not the same as it would be with an actual physical hand." It added a bit of a growl to its voice as it continued, "Can I get a volunteer or two to demonstrate?"

But I was already about to reach out and see (or feel) for myself when the invitation was issued. And as I expected, my hand met only empty space inside the shirt. But when I pushed against the inside of the shirt, the hoodie moaned softly.

--------

We finally left Melissa and my empty clothes to do… whatever they were about to do. Again the door swung open ahead of me. Even though Melissa was probably the only other person on the floor at that point, I still nervously looked around to see if anyone noticed.

“Relax,” the voice intoned. “I made sure there was no one around before I opened the door. I don’t want to cause any trouble for you.”

I thanked her and made my way to the elevator. I say her because even if I’m “only” dealing with an animated outfit that can speak, the voice and persona are female, so “she” and “her” ...mostly.

Anyway, when I reached for the elevator button the down button lit up before I touched it. I raised my eyebrows but didn’t say anything.

“Your hands are full,” the voice said, and I could hear the smile in it.

We made our way out of the building. I wondered what would happen when we got to my car.

…

The car door unlocked itself and swung open. My bag and the shopping bag both pulled themselves out of my hands and floated into the car, my bag going onto the backseat while the shopping bag came to rest in the front passenger seat.

The engine started without my key. “Wow, I didn’t expect you to be able to do that,” I said.

“I can do lots of things,” the voice intoned. We were alone in the car, so I wondered about the whispery tone. As the car shifted into gear and pulled out into traffic, the shopping bag tipped over, partially spilling the pink hoodie onto the seat. The limp sleeve filled up with empty space and reached over toward me, squeezing and rubbing my right thigh with invisible fingers.

I was naturally distracted, so I didn’t notice right away that we were headed in the opposite direction from my home. I reached for the invisible hand, only for another hand to grab my wrist and hold my hand firmly in my lap. Another hand grabbed my left hand and did the same.

“What’s that for?” I said, looking down at my hands being held still by hands I couldn’t see.

“Shhh,” was the only response I got.

“And, um, where are y--” I started, before an invisible finger pressed against my lips.

As the car pulled onto the Hutchinson Parkway headed south, the sleeve whose hand was squeezing and rubbing my thigh reached for my zipper. It crawled down its track, as invisible fingers reached in and rubbed against my drawers.

In the meantime the car was making its way down the Hutch, with no participation from me, since there were unseen hands holding my ankles so that my feet stayed against the floor. We got off the highway at the Orchard Beach/City Island exit and made our way towards Shore Road.

“Taking me to the beach?” I had to ask.

“Shhh, just enjoy,” the voice said, as the invisible fingers softly squeezed and rubbed. I wondered if -- when -- they would just reach inside, since I was sure that was their eventual goal.

==========

I wound up flat on my back, with the hoodie outfit kneeling over me, invisible hands at the ends of its sleeves pushing down on my shoulders. It had disposed of my shirt and pants. Each of my wrists and ankles were held in place by an invisible hand. When I felt fingers again gently squeezing my crotch, I raised my head to look down, when yet another unseen hand pushed my head back against the pillow it had been resting on. This was kind of like bondage, except that instead of rope or handcuffs, the bonds were all invisible hands.

“You’re probably wondering why I went through all this trouble when I could have just taken you to your place,” the voice said softly.

“I was wondering, yeah,” I replied, staring up into the empty hoodie.

“Then I guess I should get right to the point,” the voice said, as unseen lips tackled my own. It was a surprise, since the hoodie stayed where it was, creating the impression of an invisible face looking down at me while the unseen mouth kissed me.

After a few minutes, though, the voice sighed, even as the kissing continued. “I should stop playing,” it said. “That’s not the real reason I wanted to be alone with you.”

“No?” I said, figuring when would the foreplay end.

“Nope,” the voice said. “This is.”

The kissing stopped, but the hoodie didn’t move. Instead, fingertips began dragging up and down the soles of my bare feet. As soon as I started laughing, more fingertips began burrowing into my armpits, while others dragged back and forth against the back of my knees. Still more hands rubbed my sides.

I tried to thrash around but the hoodie’s assortment of hands holding me down didn’t allow much room for movement.

And through it all the voice of the hoodie occasionally giggled or sighed contentedly.

After awhile the hands eased up on their tickling. The one in my underwear, though, maintained a loose grip but stopped rubbing and squeezing. The other hands stayed in place, and I knew at some point they would start again.

Once I composed myself, I spoke up.

"I have to ask you, why me?"

The voice chuckled. "I already told you. I had my eye on you -- well, you know what I mean -- and when I saw my chance I took it."

"Yeah, you told me that," I said, "but… why me instead of Shannon? I mean, you were with her for however long it took you to figure out how to do all this, plus she gave you your voice and your fine shape."

The voice gasped. "You think I'm fine?"

"Yes, I do," I said, smiling up at the empty hoodie, "but don't change the subject. Why didn't you try this out on Shannon?"

The voice sighed. "I thought about it… but she seemed too likely to freak out. I thought you might be more accepting."

I didn't quite know what to say to that, in part because I didn't know myself just why I was OK with this. But I pushed on.

"I also have an idea," I said, "about why you didn't make a complete body for me to play with…"

"You're just sore because I didn't give you invisible tits to play with, that's all."

"Well, that's just what I mean," I said. "And just hear me out before you object, OK?"

"OK," the voice said begrudgingly.

"You're not gonna let me up while we're talking?"

"Nope," the voice said, punctuating it by having each of the unseen hands squeeze or poke just once wherever it was positioned, even the one in my pants. "Just in case I don't like your... ‘theory.’ But just because you asked…" With that the hand in my drawers let go of me. There was still a lone fingertip in there moving up and down against me, though. "So let's hear this idea of yours."

I couldn't help squirming. "Kinda hard to concentrate with that going on," I said.

"I know," the voice said, and all the other hands squeezed again. "Out with it."

I sighed and shuddered, which the hoodie chuckled at, then I went on. "I don't think the lack of a solid form where there were no clothes was intentional. I think you just really didn't want to leave yourself vulnerable, like I am right now." I paused for a second, then added, "Something like a defense mechanism."

The only immediate response was that the moving finger in my drawers stopped moving. It didn't leave, just stopped moving. There was no other reaction for a good ten or fifteen seconds.

I must have hit a nerve, or whatever passes for a nerve in animated clothing. Finally the voice spoke.

"Do you really think you can describe anything I do, or how I act, with meatbag psychology?"

"Well that's not what--" I started, before an invisible hand pressed itself against my mouth.

"Because you may be right," the voice said with a sigh. The outfit sat up, and the finger and all the hands were gone. "I mean, I know you guys have sensitive areas, and I know what I wanted to do to those sensitive areas, and I guess I wanted to be sure it couldn't be done to me."

I sat up, noting that no effort was being made to push me back down. "You said 'you guess.' So, it wasn't intentional?"

"No, not intentional," the voice said. "Remember when I first pressed up against you back at your job? The whole point was to direct you to the bathroom, not to let you interact directly. Same with the boobs under the tube top." The invisible boobs under said top flexed a couple times inside the hoodie. "When I moved the tube top behind you, I couldn't make new ones inside me, the hoodie. They were part of the tube top, in a way. And when you grabbed my butt in the sweats, if you'd tried to reach inside, you wouldn't have been able to."

"What did you think I was going to try to do?" I stared into the empty hoodie, seeing Shannon's face in my mind's eye.

"No idea," the hoodie said. "Remember, this is my first interaction with… anyone. You didn't seem like the type to get all rough and grabby, but I just couldn't take that chance." The hoodie sighed. "Now see, why'd you have to make me think and get all soft? I was supposed to be running the show here, not being analyzed."

"Running the show?" I repeated.

"Yeah," the voice said. "After all that time being at Shannon's disposal, and suddenly I'm able to move and speak and do what I want -- I jumped at the chance to be in charge. But it had to be someone receptive. I wouldn't have enjoyed making Shannon freak out, so I got her an inert replacement for me… and now here I am, telling you my story instead of tickling you silly. How'd you manage to pull that off, anyway?"

I shrugged. "I dunno, I figured everyone has some motivation; I just wondered what yours was."

“Now I have a question for you,” the hoodie said.

“Fire away,” I said.

“I saw the way you looked at Shannon -- at her butt, especially -- when she wore this outfit to work." The sweatpants separated from the hoodie as she spoke, swaying their hips as they slowly moved away from us. "I can't help wondering, though: was that all about her, or did my pants have something to do with it?"

“Well, pink does make a shapely body look good,” I said, looking at the pink fabric butt as it swayed back and forth. “I guess it was both.”

==========

When we made our way back to the car, the suit insisted on driving back to my place. I’m pretty good at getting my bearings even when I’m in unfamiliar settings, and I had seen the whole trip to… wherever we were, but I wasn’t given a choice. As soon as I was in the car, it started on its own while the seat belt pulled itself across me and attached itself. Unseen hands held my arms against the seat, one just below each elbow, as the car shifted into gear.

“How can--” I started, just wondering aloud about how it’s able to do all this stuff, before the voice shushed me.

“No more questions, OK?” she said. But after a few moments I again felt the shape of a body pressing against me, but this time from in front of me. Of course there were no clothes in front of me; there wasn’t room for any. It was incredible to feel a woman's chest, in particular, pressing against me while I'm in the driver's seat of a moving car. But as soon as I opened my mouth to ask yet another question, invisible lips pressed against mine.

“To answer the question I’m sure you were about to ask,” she said, “I’m in your clothes right now.” As she said this, unseen hands began caressing me in various places -- some seemed to be pressing against my clothes, while others felt like they were under my clothes.

This kept up until we got off the highway. As soon as we were in surroundings more familiar to me, the hands restraining me all let go. The caressing continued, though, along with the form pressing against me from the front. And the kissing. “I don’t want anyone reporting you because they don’t see you driving the car,” she said. “But I’m still driving.” And as I tried to turn left at an intersection to take my usual route home, the wheel turned just the slightest bit, before straightening out again.

“Don’t you know that famous Einstein quote about kissing and driving?” she said, with a chuckle. I grunted a no, and she responded, “ ‘Any man who thinks he can kiss a pretty girl and drive a car at the same time isn’t giving the kiss the attention it deserves.’ Or something like that.“

I grinned, and continued kissing, paying only slight attention to the wheel. But it was confusing -- here there was the feel of a shapely body pressing against me, and kissing me, but I could neither see her nor touch her, other than returning the kiss.

And was she actually calling herself pretty? I mean, sure she was quite shapely, and alluring in various other ways -- and Shannon, the source of her voice and figure, is definitely cute -- but “pretty” assumes something that was not quite true about her. I wasn’t really sure she really was even a living athletic suit, since she was here inhabiting the clothes I wore to work and controlling my car, while the suit she claimed to be was folded up in the shopping bag on the passenger seat, almost hidden from view…

----------

As we got closer to my block I had to ask, "Hey, wait a minute! How do you know just where I live?"

"While I had you immobilized on the bed, I checked Google Maps on your phone and just looked for the home link."

“Sneaky,” I said. “Is that why you didn’t take me straight home from the job?”

She chuckled. “That was one reason. It was also my first chance to be alone with you without having to worry about being interrupted, especially by someone who might freak out.”

A couple more blocks, and the form pressing against me in front went away, as the unseen lips began steadily pecking me on the cheek instead. I guess she figured that, if I had to look like I was driving in my own neighborhood, I had to be paying more attention so people won’t get suspicious.

------

A bit later in the day and I was sitting on my couch, with the pink pants sitting on my lap, a well-filled sports bra hovering above them. After some time I reach in front of me and palm each cup of the sports bra with the corresponding hand.

“Mmm,” she says. “That feels nice.”

I started rubbing my hands around them, jiggling them, squeezing them, with the reactions I might expect from a solid woman with my hands on her breasts. And each of the unreal boobs in the sports bra moves like there's really something there, though I can look directly at the inside of the bra since it's hanging in space right in front of me. I even pinched the inside of the bra, getting a high-pitched "Ooh!" in response. That makes me curious about something.

“I wonder,” I said, “if this would feel the same if you had a solid form between the clothing pieces.” I meant the way we were playing in general but still I already kinda knew the answer, because let's face it -- not only would I not have access to the inside of the bra if a solid woman is wearing it, but if I somehow could she wouldn't feel anything.

“I know what you’re getting at, I think,” she says. “I honestly don’t know, because… I’m not like you. Sitting here with these clothes is the closest I can get to you being naked. If I made, well, if I could make an invisible form inside clothes that were all open, that seeming invisible naked body would be for your benefit but It wouldn’t really be me. I like the vibe, the feeling, from things like this, but I’m sure it’s not the same for me as it would be for a woman.”

“OK,” I said. “Don’t take this question the wrong way, but if that’s how it is for you, why didn’t you --” I couldn’t bring myself to say it, plus I kind of already knew the answer to what I was trying to ask.

But she finished it for me anyway. “Why didn’t I just grab some of your clothes?” I nodded, a bit sheepishly. “Remember when Melissa asked why I didn’t just run away somewhere with your stuff that was there in her office? Those clothes were a lot like you -- your shape, your voice, even some of your mannerisms and personality. But they weren’t you. Remember what I told you earlier? I wasn’t watching your clothes, I was watching you. I thought you were cute. I wanted to be alone with you.”

After a pause, she continued. “Now, having said that, I wanna try something.” And just like that, I didn’t have an empty pair of athletic pants sitting in my lap with a sports bra floating above them. Instead there was, for all intents and purposes, an invisible woman sitting in my lap.

Well, for most intents and purposes. “Um, this isn’t complete,” she said softly, as I kissed the invisible neck in front of me, my hands still playing with the sports bra. “That’s still empty, and so are my pants, but wherever you don’t see fabric you will feel skin.”

So I tested her new status...

--------

Later, at bedtime...

“You know I don’t have to sleep,” she said, “and I… can’t make a complete body inside my pieces yet. But I’d still like to go to bed with you.”

“Hmm,” I said. “We could always spoon.”

“We could,” she said. “Or, I could be your pillow. Maybe even both.”

“My… pillow?” I said.

“Sure,” she said. The pink pants turned around so the butt was facing me, while the jacket stayed put. “You could lay your head on my butt, while I wrap my sleeves around you. Or, like you said, we could spoon with your head supported by my tank top from earlier, or maybe a tube top, or even something of yours.”

“Whoa, something of mine?” I said. I’d already been treated, if that was the right word, to the sight of my own clothes filled out to my shape and moving around under their own power back in Melissa’s office at work. Did I want to see a woman’s shape in them, even one as fine as Shannon’s? (Well, Pinkie’s, but the shape came from Shannon…)

How would I feel about wearing a shirt that had previously been filled out to Shannon’s shape, with its sleeves wrapped around me while my head rested on invisible boobs filling out the shirt? Ok, I was getting way ahead of myself…

Something bumped me. I looked down to see Pinkie’s pants standing next to me. They had apparently just bumped their hips against me to get my attention, after I’d let my mind wander a bit too much.

“You OK there?” she asked, her voice coming from the hovering top. “I mentioned filling out something of yours and you suddenly got quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m OK,” I said. “I just let my imagination run away from me, that’s all.”

“Uncomfortable with me using your clothes?” she asked.

“A little, though I’m sure that will change,” I said, “and it also made me wonder about those clothes in Melissa’s office.”

“Hmm,” she said. “We didn’t exactly have a conversation about it, but I don’t think your clothes were there for the same reason I’m here. I’m here because of me, not Shannon. But I think your stuff somehow picked up on Melissa checking you out, or at least that’s what the clothes got from it. Like I said, we didn’t exactly discuss it.”

I thought about it a bit, and decided to just spoon for now. Pinkie climbed into bed facing me, but as her sleeves were wrapping around me her bottom half turned around, pressing her butt against me. It was a new situation for me.

“This is…” I started, fishing for the right word.

“Perfect,” she said, her voice finishing my sentence in a breathy whisper just above my ear, at the same time moving her empty hood in for a kiss and wiggling her butt against me.

She was right. It was perfect.

==========

I woke up to the smell of bacon. But Pinkie was still lying under the covers next to me. I saw the back of her hood so sometime during the night she decided to have both her main parts facing the same way.

I snuggled against her pink fabric body and whispered “Morning.”

“Morning,” she whispered back, her breathy voice just above my ear. “Judging from all the noise, I guess you slept well?”

“What noise?” I said, feigning innocence.

“Those buzzsaw noises you were making,” she said, turning her top half around to face me. With a chuckle, she continued, “Good thing I don’t need sleep, because I sure wouldn’t have gotten any last night.”

“Mmm,” I replied, eager to talk about something other than my snoring. “So you got up, cooked, and came back to bed?”

“Actually I’m still cooking, or my gloves are,” she said. ‘It should be ready about now, actually.”

The sheet pulled itself away from both of us, as we both got up out of the bed. I looked around but didn’t see my slippers. Did I go to bed barefoot?

Right then my slippers walked up on their own. “Sorry about that,” Pinkie said. “At some point during the night, my sneakers started playing footsie with your slippers. I sent them out of the room so they wouldn’t wake you up.”

“Wow, and my slippers played along all by themselves? Without any help?”

“Mmmwell, my sneakers might have ‘nudged them awake,’” she admitted, “but they should be OK for you to wear now.”

“OK for me to wear?” I repeated. “How would they not be OK?”

I got an immediate answer as I felt something like a finger poke my right foot. Pinkie laughed while I yelped.