“I should go shopping sometime soon,” Pinkie said, as the athletic suit picked through a shopping bag full of clothes.

“Shopping? Shopping for what?”

“Clothes,” she said. “Some jeans, maybe a dress or two…”

"OK," I said, "what am missing here?"

"What do you mean?"

"You are clothes," I said. "And you're looking through other clothes as we speak. Are you looking for more clothes to put over yourself? And you actually want a dress?"

“Sure, why not?” Pinkie said. “I've seen  the way you look when a fine pair of jeans or a dress with a nice shape passes by. It would be nice to have a different look sometime. All I have here is athletic stuff.”

“OK, but --” I started, thinking 'you are athletic stuff,' before Pinkie cut me off.

“You know what?” she said. "You suffer from fleshbound thinking."

"Um, fleshbound? What does that mean?"

Pinkie stood up and walked towards me, pink flip-flops flapping against invisible (non-existent?) feet.

"Well, you're not like me," she said. "You're solid, so naturally you think of clothes as something to wrap around yourself." She emphasized "solid" by patting my stomach with an invisible hand. "But I'm not. So I can put clothes on over myself, but that's not all. Here, let me show you instead of explaining."

The shopping bag Pinkie had been picking through floated over to where the suit was standing. Pinkie spoke as two items floated up out of the bag, both black with some pink on them.

"You already saw how I could manage that tank top the day we met," Pinkie said. "So watch this." One of the floating black-and-pink items filled out in the shape of a well-endowed female top half, with short vertical stripes down the outside of the sleeves and the sides of the torso. The shirt then extended a sleeve to the other hovering item, making the motions of pulling it up invisible legs. It resolved into a pair of leggings, with matching stripes down the outside of each leg. The curvy form filling out the leggings was a bit thicker than Pinkie.

“Wooow,” I said, openly staring at the black outfit’s chest. “You did that?” I asked, speaking to Pinkie but still staring at the other outfit, which placed its sleeves right next to its chest and jiggled it with invisible hands.

“In a manner of speaking,” Pinkie said. “You could say I turned that outfit on. I don’t directly control it at the moment, but I could if I wanted to.” With that, each outfit’s bottom half stepped away from its top and took its place below the other, each looking perfectly coordinated since there was a pink knit item matched with a black-and-pink item.

“OK,” I said, now looking at the pink top. “But which outfit is you?”

“Both,” Pinkie’s voice said. "And neither. If that makes any sense,” she added with a giggle. The voice seemed to come from a point between the two outfits. The black top began flexing its chest, while it held its invisible hands on its hips.

“Hmm,” I responded, still watching the black top as I approached the pink jacket and black leggings. “I would have guessed that this was still you, since the black outfit’s a bit… thicker than your original pink one.”

“Is that all?” Pinkie’s voice asked, now coming from the other outfit. “That’s because I was filled out to Shannon’s shape. If I was to go shopping, I could get larger sizes and then fill it out to these proportions or even bigger."

The black-topped outfit then approached Pinkie's jacket and the black leggings, and the two outfits put their sleeves around the other’s midsection. The two outfits began moving as if invisible women wearing them were kissing each other. Each outfit’s sleeves began roaming around the other, with the imprint of invisible fingers pressing into fabric.

"OK, now I know you’re playing games with me,” I said, mesmerized by the impressions of invisible fingers pressing into each outfit.

“Why do you say that?” Pinkie’s voice replied.

“Why… would you have two outfits of clothing kissing each other? Or is that for show? Would I actually feel anything if I were to put my hand where lips--”

“You put your hand in the way,” Pinkie said, giggling, “and you might get bit.”

“Bit? By who?”

“Them… us… me… whatever. You see kissing happening, you don’t interrupt to see what happens, you just leave it alone and let it happen. Even if it is ‘just empty clothes.’ But I think it’s time to wrap this up and go shopping now.”

The black top and pink pants seemed to slouch a little as they pulled away from the other outfit, then the pants stepped away from the black top and sat down on the couch. The form filling out the black top then pulled it up off itself -- easy to watch but difficult to recount in a sensible sounding way -- and the limp top floated into Pinkie’s hands.

“Changing clothes?” I said, trying to be funny.

“That’s one way to describe it,” Pinkie said, playing it straight. The pink jacket unzipped and fell away from the form that gave it shape, while the black and pink top tumbled in the air before being pulled down over nothing, taking on a more-defined version of Pinkie’s shape. The black outfit then picked up the pink jacket and tossed it toward the pink pants sitting on the couch, and again the jacket filled itself out around a form identical to the shape it had just a few moments before.

I was mesmerized, watching clothes taking shape while being pulled over or around literally nothing. Yet Pinkie had said she needed to shop. I had to ask about it.

“Excuse me for sounding stupid,” I said, looking back and forth between the two outfits. “But what was all that for?”

“Two reasons,” Pinkie’s voice replied from the black outfit. "First off -- you liked watching, didn't you?"

I did. A lot. And I was pretty sure it showed.

"Second of all," Pinkie continued, "I am the pink outfit. I can fill out and control other clothes, like this set here, but the pink suit is actually me. But I’m going shopping like this” -- invisible hands at the end of the black and pink sleeves pushed up slightly on the swell of the top’s chest -- “so there’s one more thing I have to do.”

The pink suit walked into the kitchen and came back with a pink shoelace floating just past the end of one of its sleeves. As I watched, the suit draped the shoelace over one shoulder, then pulled the drawstring completely out of its waistband and handed it to the black outfit. The pink outfit, no longer Pinkie, then stuck one end of the shoelace into the drawstring hole, and the shoelace snaked its way around the inside of the waistband before poking out of the other hole and tying its ends together.

“Technically, I suppose there’s no real need for a drawstring,” the voice said, “or belts for that matter, but it was part of the suit so if I pull it out I feel like I should replace it.” The black suit had stuck the drawstring into one of its pockets.

“You had to pull it out so… you could be you no matter what clothes you’re using?” I said, trying to make sense of what I had just seen without asking for yet another explanation.

“That’s pretty much it, yeah,” the voice said. “Having a piece of the pink suit with me means I’m me no matter what I’m ‘wearing,’ Better than having to wear the jacket on such a nice day.” That sounded odd, since I'm sure empty clothes aren’t affected by weather conditions. Not to mention hearing Pinkie say "the jacket," like it was just another thing, when in my mind the jacket was Pinkie until a few moments earlier.

“So now the… one I had thought of as Pinkie is in here,” I said, caressing the swell of the black outfit’s chest. The voice was quiet for a moment before responding.

“Kinda bold, ain’tcha?” it said. “Sticking your hand on someone’s chest who you just met a couple of days ago?”

That unnerved me a little, since… well, OK, she did say she was clothing so I took it upon myself to caress it -- her --  in a way I would have been more hesitant to do to a human I’d literally just met. But something about the way she repeated my emphasis of “one” told me she might have been joking.

“I guess,” I said. “But these past few days have been kinda… strange, so your show kinda emboldened me to do something I wouldn’t have done otherwise.”

“But you’re right,” the voice said. “I’m still ‘Pinkie,’ I suppose, but I’m in here.” Again the sleeves moved invisible hands to the outfit’s chest. And I noticed she paused a little before saying "Pinkie."

"Did you realize that you have never given me a name to call you before now?" I said.

"I didn't realize it, no," she said. "I never had to worry about a name until a couple days ago."

“So now we have a little problem,” I said, reaching toward the pink outfit standing nearby. “I can’t call this outfit Pinkie, since that name refers to you.” I was looking at the black outfit, but I had emphasized “this outfit” by grabbing and squeezing the pink outfit’s butt. “And I’m not gonna call you Pinkie anymore because… you’re not pink, at least not at the moment. So what do I call you?”

When I grabbed the pink fabric butt, the suit flinched a little but otherwise there was no reaction, which I thought was a little strange.

"You're making trouble for yourself, you know," the voice said, "and I guess you can call me Sheila. I actually like the name Shannon, but I'm obviously not the person you saw wearing me back at your job."

"Uh, how am I making trouble for myself?" I asked.

"Well," Sheila said, "did you think that because I'm not using the pink suit at the moment that she can't do what she wants to get some payback?"

Payback? What had I started? "Um, what kind of payback?" I asked Sheila, though I was staring at her temporarily-vacated outfit.

"She's not sharing her plans with me, but just remember -- you have to go to sleep tonight. Us clothes don't."

The pink outfit walked over to the black one, moving its hood and a sleeve as if whispering something to Sheila. I didn't hear any of what was being said -- in fact I hadn't heard a peep coming from the pink outfit since Sheila had changed -- but when the pink outfit pulled away from the black one, Sheila chuckled.

"Mm-hmm," I said, "you're trying to put it off on her but you're going to be part of this revenge, aren't you?"

"Oh no," she said, raising her empty sleeves. If she was trying to signal her hands were clean, well, I couldn't see any hands. "I don't have anything to do with it. She just wanted me to know what she was planning to do, and I thought it was funny."

"And you're not going to do anything to stop her? I mean, she's still your outfit, right?"

I was already nervous enough at the idea of clothes waiting for me to go to sleep so they could get revenge on me -- but when I said "still your outfit," the pink suit moved its sleeves to put invisible hands on its hips. I gulped.

"Relax," Sheila said. "Yes, she still belongs to me. And she's not gonna hurt you. But I'm not going to try to stop her, either. After all, you have to admit it's pretty bold for you to walk up to an outfit that's all filled out and figure that, because it's 'just empty clothes,' you can just grab its butt and get away with it."

I made some noises to try to explain my way out of it, leading the pink suit to cross its sleeves against its chest.

"Stop trying to excuse yourself," Sheila said. "You're just gonna get yourself in worse trouble. Just come shopping with me, and accept that later today the pink suit has a bill to collect from you."

I looked at the empty space inside the pink hood. Trying my best to sound sincere, I said, "Would it help if I said I was sorry and I'll be sure not to do it again?"

Sheila snorted as the empty hood shook back and forth. "She'd probably accept your apology if she thought you meant it but it's too late now. And while we're on the subject I need you to promise no grabbing when we go shopping."

Looking down into Sheila's empty collar, I put my hand against her butt -- I didn't grab it, I just rested my hand there -- and said, "Are you sure that's what you want?"

She flinched. "Just for that I should help her later on," she said, though I could tell from her voice she was joking.

"OK," I said, still palming Sheila's butt. "I promise not to make the first move… though I have a feeling I won't get the chance to anyway."

"You just might be right about that," Sheila said with a chuckle. Then, grabbing my hand, she pulled me toward the door. "So let's go shopping." But we had only taken a couple of steps before there was a snapping sound coming from behind us.

I turned to look at the pink outfit, which was walking toward me. Was she about to make some kind of request? If so she’d have to request it from Sheila; I hadn’t heard a sound from this outfit, so I had no idea how it would communicate with me..

But the pink outfit did -- it approached me, sleeves out, and pulled me into a kiss. At first it was just invisible lips inside the empty hood, until a tongue pushed it way into my mouth. So we tongue-wrestled, with my hands finding their way to the empty pink butt. Likewise invisible hands at the end of pink sleeves started out rubbing my sides, before sliding down to rest at the base of my back. Momentarily they pushed their way between my shirt and the waistband of my pants. I grunted but kept on kissing and squeezing, until I heard throat-clearing behind us.

It seemed like it was Sheila I was kissing, so hearing her voice behind us caught me by surprise for just a second. I broke free from the invisible lips in front of me, looked into the empty collar at the bottom of the hood, and said softly, “Are you sure you really changed outfits, or is this some kind of test?”

“Do you wanna come shopping with me,” the voice said from behind me, sounding just a little  testy, “or do you wanna stay here with my clothes?” Somehow that didn’t sound right, and I started to say something about it, before I thought better of it. I pulled my arms away from the suit, which did likewise with its empty sleeves… and then I heard footsteps behind me.

I turned toward Sheila but she walked past me to her pink outfit. Each outfit’s empty sleeves wrapped around the other suit, and to all appearances it was, again, two invisible women kissing. Again unseen hands at the end of each set of sleeves set off rubbing and groping at the other’s fabric butt.

Momentarily, the black and pink outfit pulled away from the hoodie, and Sheila’s voice spoke, sounding much less testy than before. “Now let’s go!”