Ride Home

Ride Home 1

"You need a ride home?" asked a coworker on his way to the parking lot. "I'm headed your way."

"Thanks, but I have a ride," I said. Just then a 9-passenger van pulled up. I stepped in and smiled at the driver, a pretty and shapely young woman in tank top and jean shorts who looked barely old enough to drive.

"Hi, Bry," she said.

"Hi," I said. "What happened to the regular driver?"

"I am the regular driver, more or less," she said. "You're just not used to seeing me, that's all."

"Wow. Well, I like the change," I said, gazing at her cleavage. "A lot. But aren't you worried about being pulled over? You look almost underage."

“Not worried at all,” she said with a giggle. “If I get pulled over I have all the credentials I need right here.” Right then impressions of invisible hands began to squeeze her breasts. I could have stood there forever just watching that, and her pretty smile, but before that thought even had a chance to register, a voice called out from the back, “Hey, quit flirting with the driver and take a seat!”

“What’s your hurry?” she shot back. “You’re going where he’s going, and you don’t need to be there until he gets there.” Turning back to me, she continued, “But they do have a point. Go ahead and relax. If you like, we can ‘talk’ later.”

She kept the van stationary until I took my seat, across from my usual fellow “passengers.” I usually had a nice view of translucent hosiery with either shorts or a short skirt, and today was no exception. This time it was a long-sleeved white top covering huge breasts, over a denim miniskirt and white fishnet stockings. And, of course, an empty neck hole and equally empty sleeve openings -- no visible evidence of a woman inside the outfit, except for the emphatically feminine figure.

I thought back on how I first crossed paths with this strange collection...


One day I went by bus to do some shopping. When the bus pulled up, it didn't show any route number, which wasn't so unusual. Sometimes when the drivers change routes, or return from a break, they may not turn the sign on before going to their first stop. No matter, I knew where I was going -- Route 40, to White Plains.

I looked out the window as we made our way. Left on Park Avenue, left on Sidney Avenue, right at Third Avenue, bear left at Oakley Avenue to Gramatan, right at the roundabout onto East Lincoln...

I guess I dozed off, because the next thing I knew, the bus was sitting still in an unfamiliar parking lot. I looked around. Off in the distance there was a store that looked a lot like the Costco in New Rochelle. But the bus I had been on doesn’t go through New Rochelle. In fact, there isn’t any Westchester County Bee-line bus that goes directly to Costco – something was up. When any of the buses reaches the end of the line, everyone on board has to leave. So how did I wind up on another bus route?

Then I looked up front, and saw that there was a different driver, as well. She looked at me with dark, smoky eyes through the big panel rear-view and smiled knowingly. I had no idea what had happened to the rest of the passengers, or how we got here, but she was too pretty for me not to smile back.

"Your stop," she said. I made my way to the front of the bus, looking out the big windshield, bewildered.

"Is it?" I asked, looking at her. Only now did I notice that she had a body to match her smile -- dark chocolate skin and amazing curves packed into a transit uniform that was clearly straining against her proportions.

"You said you were looking for some clothes shopping, right?"

I looked back at the store again, which looked open, though I didn't see anyone going in or out. I was sure I'd have remembered talking to this woman if I did, but I didn't want to look stupid, so I just nodded and took a step to the opened door.

"Clothes shopping," I said, motioning to the store.

"Uh-huh," she chuckled. "Best place I could think of."

I'd never seen the place before, but I could only imagine that she brought me here as a favor, being that her and I were the only ones on the bus.

"Well, uh -- thanks!" I said, stepping off. "I appreciate it."

"See you around." The door shut behind me, and I walked up to the automatic doors and entered the store.

So when you hear the phrase “clothes shopping,” you think of people shopping for clothes. Well, there were plenty of those, but there were also clothes... shopping. A large number of what appeared to be fully dressed but invisible shoppers, almost all of them female, pushing shopping carts around. There were also a few carts that were moving around by themselves, with no one visible directing them.

One pair of shoppers caught my attention, as much for their dialogue as for their look. I felt a little sheepish eavesdropping on their conversation, but I thought it might give me an idea of what was going on. The guy was just your standard guy, but he was arm-in-… sleeve with a busty orange shirt and matching sweatpants, very nicely curved, but with no one visible inside them.

“You know I’d put a big ol’ rock on your finger if I could,” he said.

I heard a snort come from the direction of the orange outfit. “Yeah, you only say that because you know I don’t have any fingers.” After a pause, the voice continued, “I do have gloves, though. A ring would look nice with gloves.”

“Yeah, but where would it end?” he joked “You’d want one for every pair you got.” An orange sleeve nudged his ribs, and they both laughed a bit.

“So I guess it's lucky for you I wouldn't want a ring anyway...might give people the impression I belong to you, and that’s not the way it is at all. You belong to me."

"I do?" the guy replied in mock surprise.

"Mm-hmm," was the reply, as the outfit snuggled closer to him. "I caught you fair and square, and I dare any woman -- solid or not -- to try and snatch you away.”

As their voices trailed away, another approaching cart in particular caught my eye. It seemed to be roving on its own, and there was a sheer white lace sleeveless blouse about a step behind, tucked into black shorts that went down to about mid-thigh, over black tights.

The outfit appeared to be following the cart, but I didn't get the impression it was pushing. As the cart passed a display table, it stopped as a teal top more or less identical to the white one began stirring on the display case.

"Look at this, hon," a voice said. The voice seemed a bit mature to be coming from what looked like a teenager's outfit, but it was the only outfit adjacent to the cart. "You like this color?" the voice asked.

An adolescent-sounding voice groaned. "Can't you let me pick out my own things this time? Besides, I have that top. Look familiar?" The front of the white top pulled out slightly as if by invisible hands. 

"Well, sure, but it's either black or white every day with you. Don't you want to be another color sometime? Teal, or pink, or brown, or... whatever?"

"Or maybe I could go as no color, like you," the younger voice shot back. 

The older voice sighed. "Like I keep telling you, I think going about uncovered is a bit...advanced. One step at a time."

"But why? You never tell me why! I mean, we're not like the solids. I don't have to worry about puberty and all that junk. We both know I could fill out a top till it makes Dolly Parton and Christina Hendricks cry uncle. So what's the problem?"

Another sigh from the older voice. "I can't really explain it. It's just that -- "

The younger cut in again. "It's just that there is no explanation, except that you take your job a little too seriously, that's all. I mean, how much time is enough time to..." The outfit turned to me, trailing off as it apparently became aware of my staring. "You know what? Let's ask this guy."

"You just gonna drag some poor stranger into this -- ?"

"I bet he gives me a straight answer," the outfit said, facing the direction of the older voice. Then it turned to me. I had been watching the outfit ever since the older-sounding voice suggested the teal top, imagining it filled out to any number of dimensions I had seen in other outfits in the store. I had begun feeling a little sheepish when I'd heard the beginning of their conversation, taking her to be a young girl. But her speaking about "not being like the solids" threw me off a bit.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?" the voice said.

"Uh, sure," I said, trying not to seem as if I'd been eavesdropping all this time. "To be honest, I don't know if it's something I can answer, cause this place..." I trailed off.

"Oh, so you're a first-timer?" the voice asked. I nodded. "Even better. Do you think I look 'not mature enough' to go around without clothes?"

Being that it was the clothes that brought my attention to all these all-too-familiar shapes, I could feel my throat closing up as I tried to reply. "Um," I managed to croak, "n-not mature enough to go without clothes?" I shrugged. "I... can't really say how old you look, cause -- you know -- all I see is clothes." I stopped to take a deep breath before continuing. "But to be honest, I did hear you say something about putting Dolly Parton to shame and not being like the solids, so maybe, um... what was the question again?"

"Didn't mean to make you so nervous," the voice said with a giggle. "It's just that she doesn't want me to go around without clothes...or to fill them out the way I really want to."

I had a fleeting thought that, given the conversation, the way she wanted to fill them out would have been something I wouldn't mind seeing. I knew better than to say so, though.

"So, uh," I said, having recovered a bit, "is she your...mother?"

"No, not exactly. As I'm sure you can tell, we're not -- quite like you. She's just, more like....looking after me, that's all. Occasionally she does get a bit too motherly, though. Once in a while I have to remind her that she doesn't have to."

"Helping you stay out of trouble," the other voice chimed in. It had been silent so long I thought the speaker had gone somewhere else.

"And not that I don't appreciate that," the younger-sounding voice said, "but you don't gotta do it so much anymore. I can take care of myself." It chuckled a bit, then continued. "I seem to remember you saying something about clothing being a sign of restraint for us. Yet I'm the one wearing clothes, not you, and doing a good job of restraining myself from straining the seams." The sound of the voice changed, as if the unseen speaker had turned toward me, and said, "Wouldn't you like to see what she looks like? Since she's the one talking about restraint and maturity..."

"I, uh..." was the only reply I could manage.

"OK," the other voice replied with a sigh. "I knew where this was headed, but I'll play along." I watched as a some shiny teal fabric launched itself into the air above the shopping cart as if the display table had thrown it. As it started falling back towards the cart it began taking shape, opening up and filling out. I was momentarily able to look up through it before its angle became too low. By the time it was lowering itself behind the cart, I could see it was a tube dress; a nicely curved tube dress, whose unseen wearer would be about my height if she were visible, and if the proportions I was seeing in the dress were accurate.

"Nice trick," the girlish voice said. "How come you never do anything like that at home?"

"You mean, you never see me do anything like that at home. That's because at home I don't usually have an audience."

The girl voice laughed, then, to me, said, "So...no comment? She did that little show for you, you know."

I whistled, without realized I was doing it until I stopped. Then... "How do you do that?"

"How do I do what?" the voice from the dress responded.

"Um, well, as far as I can tell you don't have --  bodies. So how do you hold the clothes in place?"

"The same way you do," the girlish voice said. "How do you hold your clothes in place?"

"I either pull them down over my body, step into them, or wrap them around me. Then physics takes care of the rest."

"Well, in a manner of speaking, we do the same," the dress responded. 

"But, you don't...have bodies. So how is it that -- "

A sigh from the voice over the dress stopped me, and she answered. "Well, there aren't really words that're gonna be enough for you to understand it -- so how about using your fingers to figure it out?"

"My-- my fingers?!" I blushed. I guess 'not being like the solids' included having no qualms about inviting a stranger to do some tactile exploration.

"No fair," the girlish voice sang out. "I was gonna claim him."

I thought back to the couple I'd seen before. How many 'solid' guys like me ended up belonging to these -- enticing, but slightly unnerving entities?

"Too slow," the dress shot back. "Or maybe you'll get your turn. I have a feeling your Dolly Parton remark piqued his interest." Then, to me, "Well? You gonna come check this out or not?"

Didn't have to tell me twice. I stepped over to the dress, tentatively reaching towards the space above it, wondering what my fingers were going to come in contact with...


I waved them around and didn't feel a thing. Next, I reached down into the dress, basically waving my right arm round forward and back, side to side, even after I'd already proven to myself that there was no one in it. Then my fingers brushed against the inside of the dress, around the stomach.

I had been purposely trying to avoid touching the dress -- out of my own 'solid' sense of respect, I guess...even though I'd been specifically invited to use my fingers.

The thing is, once I did, I couldn't pull my fingers away. I rubbed all over the inside of the stomach, and started pulling my hand upward without breaking contact with the dress. As I got to the lower torso, just below the chest, the dress began to squirm.

'Oooh," it purred. "Interesting you didn't go for my boobs first. I'm ticklish around there."

Oh really? I thought, wondering if that meant inside or outside. As I began dragging my fingertips around the inside of the dress' boobs, it really began to dance around, letting out stifled giggles that elicited an involuntary response from me down below.

I found my inhibitions melting with every inch of fabric I touched. Sure, I was standing in the middle of a store, but this was obviously no ordinary place, and my conversation partners were no ordinary women. I stepped it up bringing my left hand up to rub around the outside of the dress' chest and stomach while doing the same on the inside with my right.

I nearly found myself wishing I had two more hands, so I could do the same with the dress' back and butt at the same time. Before long, I heard a chuckle from the outfit beside us.

"Alright now," the younger voice said. "I know I started this, but we still have shopping left to do."

The voice above the teal dress sighed, and I felt my hand inside the dress gently being pulled up and out, like the repelling force of two magnets.

"Much as I'm not minding those fingers of yours, she's right. Tell you what, let us finish our shopping, then meet us in the front of the store in a half hour."

I felt a little flutter in me when I thought about how this situation was going to continue. Part of me wanted to bolt back to the bus, but not the better part.

"Who says he needs to wait? He could always help me pick out some things..."

"I'm sure he's got his own shopping to do," the voice over the teal dress said. "Don't you?" The tone was nice enough, but I could tell it was more than a suggestion.

"Uh, yeah. I'll see -- er -- meet you at the front then." I already had an invitation to meet back up with this pair, so I didn't want to spoil my good fortune. There seemed to be plenty of other sights here to occupy myself for the next thirty minutes.

I spent some time over by the unisex accessories, looking at some gloves and hats on clearance, now that spring was well on its way. The section just happened to be on the edge of women's outerwear, where I watched two shiny bubble coats sandwiching what looked like a very happy young man between them.

"I keep tellin' ya, she's allergic to down!"

"Poly fill, honey. Even better than the real thing. No nasty quills to poke into you." Despite the fact that they were coats, they were still wrapped around some great curves. Since they were the kind of coats that went almost down to the knees of the wearer, they even showed off a couple of impressive looking butts while they were zipped and buckled.

"Mmm...I could just swallow you right up, baby." One of the hoods pointed at the guy's face, covering it entirely. I swore I could hear the telltale sounds of lip-smacking as the guy's arms wrapped around the butt of the coat, but if these coats were occupied by the same kind of beings as the outfits I'd just spoken with, how was that possible?

When the coat pressed to the guy's rear turned its hood in my direction, I moved on, not wanting to interrupt their fun. Not too far away, I saw a visible woman -- the first I'd seen since the bus--accompanied by an empty outfit clinging to her side.

The young woman was herself a stunner, in tight blue jeans and white tank top, showing off an impressive figure. A white cowl-neck sweater and white knit leggings, filled out with a figure identical to hers, followed her around the store, alternating between holding a sleeve around her waist and wrapping a sleeve around her arm, trying to convince her to buy the outfit and take it home with her. I could hear her politely explaining that she came here for specific items and they weren't on her list, though she clearly enjoyed the attention.

More confused than ever, I struggled to suss out the differences in all the phenomena in this place. There was the girl and her... guardian, who weren't like the solids; visible guys like me, who were either "attached" to one of the disembodied entities, or -- like I saw in outerwear -- being teased by self-described clothing; and now this gorgeous woman, shuffling through the store with what looked like a lovesick empty outfit begging to be taken home with her.

I leered over toward intimates, wondering if I had the guts to see what kind of things I'd find going on over there. Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I turned around to see a pair of red leather gloves, filled out with small slender hands.

"Seeing anything you like?" Said a voice coming from their general direction. All of the action going on was kind of hard to keep up with at this point, and I found myself stuttering in front of these gloves.

"I'm, uh -- that is..."

"Must be your first time?"

"I'm just kinda waiting for someone," I finally said. "Not looking for anything in particular."

"And neither was I, but here you are." One glove clasped my shoulder and pushed while the other traced down my face and gently held my neck. "Come on, let's go somewhere a bit more private." Before I could protest, I was walked straight past the guy and the two giggling coats, beyond a rack of scarves and toward the women's shoes. I thought I was going to walk head first into a stockroom door, but before I knew it, a pair of striped knee socks kicked it open first, following me in.

"So what do we have here?" Squeaked a voice that sounded different from the gloves that all but kidnapped me.

"This one was all by himself, just scoping the scene," the voice right behind the gloves said. "Must like what he sees, too, because he seems to be packing some heat down here..." The glove on my shoulder traced down my chest and across my stomach, stopping on the button of my jeans.

"No, I was just -- " The other glove on my neck slid up under my chin and put a single leather finger over my mouth, shutting me up. I felt something hit my knees from behind, sending me tumbling over backward. Before I hit the ground, though, I was caught in what felt like thick tendrils of netting. Two pairs of legs appeared around my sides and over my shoulders -- long, thick invisible forms wrapped in diamond fishnet and windowpane patterned nylon.

"Just minding your own business, right?" Came a voice that seemed to hum between my ears. "Unattended meatbags like you are never really 'just looking'," it continued. "They're usually here to test the merchandise..."

"Or vice-versa," the voice in front of me said as a red leather glove unbuttoned my pants. As a glossy finger and thumb gripped my zipper and proceeded downward, I heard -- from behind me -- the sound of a throat clearing.

I tilted my head back to see a thickly filled black skirt-suit and blazer, its arms folded beneath an impressive, but modestly covered bust. The collar of a red satin blouse was evident under the blazer, and where the tightly-filled skirt ended, stout translucent stockings continued, ending at the floor in shiny red pumps.

"Ladies, this is your second warning," came a voice from the outfit, sounding like it had a Latin-American accent I couldn't identify. I wasn't sure why, but Dominican popped into my head. "Would someone like to tell me our policy regarding customer courtesy?" The stockings I was resting against tipped me back upright, and the red gloves re-zipped and buttoned my pants.

And while these weren't exactly items that required lungs, I certainly heard some disappointed sighs from around me. They slinked away -- some back out to the store -- and I found myself placed in front of the outfit that looked like it might belong to a manager of this place.

I was conflicted between gratitude for her timing and my own disappointment about the items' own halted plans -- but I let the more polite sentiment come through.

"Thanks for -- "

"Well, you're not exactly blameless, are you?" I was taken aback by the tone, and I must have made a face she didn't like, because she followed up with, "Oh, innocent now, are we? I'm sure you didn't do anything to distract my staff from their work, mister-red-blooded-voyeur."

"Hey now, I was just wai -- "

"You were paged twice. If you were mine, and you kept me waiting at the front like that..." She huffed, apparently holding back. "Well, they must be far more patient than I would be." I wanted to think of some reply -- an apology or an excuse, but I was staring sheepishly toward the ground, doing my best not to make it obvious that my eyes were tracing up from the glossy lipstick red shoes to the shapely, thick translucent shine of the stocking's invisible calves. "Now, out! Employees only."

"Sure," I nodded, making sure to get an eyeful of the short, peppery outfit. "Sorry about that." A red heel started tapping on the floor, and I took that as my cue to get back through the stockroom door I came in as quickly as possible.

I made a beeline for the front, but just out of the door, I felt something shoved into my back pocket as I was simultaneously patted on the butt. I kept walking, looking over my shoulder to see the red leather gloves innocuously moving around accessories on the shelves behind me. One of them stuck out a pinkie and thumb, holding itself up in what looked like a "call me" motion.

I faced forward again, wanting to splash my face with cold water after visualizing what a date with those gloves -- or the entity wearing them (whichever) -- would be like.

At the front, I saw the teal dress, the white top and black shorts, and another outfit standing with them--pink stretch pants, a tight white long-sleeved compression top and pink sneakers. A cart in front of them was filled to the top with bags.

"So this is him?" Said a voice I didn't recognize. I was sure it came from the tight, slender athletic outfit.

"Hi," I said, waving sheepishly. "I heard I, uh, kept you waiting. Sorry."

"She wasn't going to leave without you," said the voice over the compression shirt, throwing a sleeve over the shoulder of the white top. "Must be you made an impression."

"I figured you were scared off," the younger voice continued. "I was ready to forget about it, but it was her idea to page you." The white top turned to the shiny teal dress.

"Well, either way...here I am."

"Good," the mature voice said. "So let's get going." The full cart wheeled itself forward, and the three outfits headed to the door. I made it a point to walk behind them, first, because I didn't know exactly where we were headed, and second--well--let's just say any average guy would envy the view I had walking out to the parking lot. But outside, that didn't stop me from catching glimpses of other outfits. It seemed like the foot--er--shoe traffic increased since I walked in from the bus stop.

It occurred to me that I didn't know where we were going, or how I'd get back if I left this strange stop I'd gotten off. Another part of the situation that occurred to me--I hadn't eaten since this morning.

"You must be hungry," I heard the voice from the teal dress say, like she'd read my mind. I stared at the hips swishing back and forth inside the shiny fabric while I responded.

"I was just thinking that, actually. How'd you know?"

"We don't have growling organs," the athletic outfit laughed. "Kind of a dead giveaway." And of course I really didn't notice it, but my stomach was growling.

"But, uh...I'm guessing you don't eat, right?"

"No, we don't nutrify ourselves the way you do," the voice said again. That wasn't quite the answer I expected, so I decided to follow it up.

"Wait--so how do you..."

"We're gonna make sure you're fed, alright?" The younger voice said. "It's all taken care of." That didn't really answer the question, but I let it go.

As we got to the middle of the lot, the teal dress and cart stopped in front of the rear doors of a big van, which opened by themselves even though the teal dress was more than a few feet from it. I watched as each bag rose out of the cart, one after another, and loaded themselves into the van. As this was happening, the shiny teal dress walked around the van to the passenger's side, where an open door waited.

"I'm sure you girls will want the back, so I'll ride shotgun." As the teal dress hovered up and into the seat, I wondered who'd be driving until I heard the van fire up all on its own. The side door slid open, and the athletic outfit climbed inside. I was watching the last of the bags load themselves, and when the cart started rolling away toward a cart return -- all on its own -- I felt myself nudged gently forward.

"Hope you don't mind taking the middle," the younger voice said. "Come on, hop in." I did, and the white top and black shorts came in right behind me. The whole back seat was unoccupied, and I was snug between the pink leggings and black shorts--able to see down into the shirts of both outfits. When the side door slid shut, the van put itself in gear and started out of the parking lot with no driver in the seat.

When we pulled onto the road, I was looking straight ahead, trying to see if I actually knew where we were. This didn't last long before I was distracted by something resting on my left thigh. I looked down to see the white sleeve of the compression shirt hovering over my leg as invisible fingertips ran up and down the thigh of my jeans. They were travelling unabashedly high on the upstroke, and I wondered if either outfit noticed my shift to accommodate one of my involuntarily moving body parts.

"Now that we're somewhere a little less public," the younger voice said, "wanna see me really fill this fabric up?" I must have been bright red. Both the voices at my sides started giggling, and I looked to the front passenger's seat for some sign of opposition to the idea...

And I didn't hear a word.

"If you're waiting for her permission, you don't need it," she said, almost with contempt. "But if it makes you feel better, we've already discussed your participation, so relax."

"Well, it's just that--" The white sleeve to my left went over my shoulder, and suddenly I felt fingers dancing up the back of my neck. The fingers on my thigh seemed to be replaced by the athletic outfit's left sleeve, which crossed over its lap and continued where the other left off.

"Relax," whispered the voice to my left. I could feel the microfiber mounds of the compression shirt against my shoulder as the outfit leaned in.

"And answer me," the younger voice said. "Do you want to see me fill-these-up... like I think they should be filled?" I nodded, turning and looking down at the white top. "Good, 'cause I want to show you."

Like magic, the swell of the sheer sleeveless blouse began increasing, the fabric growing tighter around the invisible orbs, rendering the blouse even more translucent. Before long, their size had gone from average to substantial, and continued to the point of rivaling the aforementioned celebrities known for their own exaggerated curves.

The difference here seemed to be that gravity's pull had little pull over the shapes filling the blouse. For an average woman, the size now would have been rarely attainable except through augmentation, and the shape--well--pretty much forbidden by physics. The fabric around the chest was certainly strained to its limits, and when I heard a couple of seams pop,the inflation seemed to stop.

"There, now...whatcha think?"

I was practically drooling. Thinking came at a premium after watching that display, and I was pretty much content to look...until the athletic outfit nudged me.

"Still playing shy?" It asked.

I didn't think I was being all that shy. I was, after all, staring long and hard at the gorgeous form in front of me. I even leaned forward a bit, looking down into the blouse through the neckline, which was straining open.

"Ah, I think I see what you're waiting for," the younger voice said. "But since you won't have quite the same view as you do of these--" The shoulders seemed to shrug in a bit as invisible hands pressed into the sides of the huge sheer breasts, mashing them together, " --I think I'll let you feel the other part instead of just seeing."

With that, the outfit rose off of the seat, apparently having no trouble keeping steady with the vehicle in motion as it hovered over my lap and came back down to make contact with it. Now the black shorts and tights both rested on my upper thighs, still facing forward. The butt wiggled against me as it settled, further rousing my already very-much-aware parts beneath.

And just when I thought the whole experience couldn't get any better...the wonderful shape in the black shorts went the same way of the sheer tits, tightening the fabric of the black shorts and the already shapely leggings under them. The butt perked and dropped against me, growing a bit each time and teasing against the--er, also growing--crotch of my own pants.

Both outfits giggled as I sat slack-jawed, watching all this happen. The athletic outfit threw a sleeve around my shoulder, and in the same moment, I could feel unseen fingers tracing ever so slightly against my earlobe and down the side of my neck.

"Well, I can tell you like what I've shown you so far," the outfit on my lap said. "Why don't you show off some of your enthusiasm with your other extremities?"

To say that it now held the shape of a full-figured woman wouldn't quite give the right impression. Seeing the ballooned, bouncing sheer tits from the back of the sheer blouse and the firm, still growing butt teasing and pouncing my lap combined with the preserved size of the small waist made me think of something unattainable--unfathomable by any critical male mind.

Still, the innuendo came through loud and clear, and I was only too happy to oblige. I reached my arms around the waist of the blouse, cupping my hands (or making an attempt to, at least,) around the voluptuous sheer breasts. Just like the teal dress earlier, the sensation was maddeningly real--except adding to the presence of firm skin and yielding tits was a mind-blowing contrast of light, breathable fabric, which I swore I could feel the air moving through.

Now I heard sighs and coos coming from the outfit wiggling on my lap as I played with its phantom tits. Switching it up a bit, I kept one hand playing across the amazing spread as my other moved up and over the neckline, tracing it up to an intangibly-filled shoulder. I let my hand slide down the side of the torso until i reached the waist of the pants, where I deftly squeezed my fingers between the tucked in blouse and the pants, which by now were tight as a drum to the touch. On the outside though, the bouncing butt still produced soft jiggling curves that continued enticing the tent in my pants.

I watched through the sheer blouse as a sleeve of the athletic outfit's compression shirt reached for the front of the black shorts. I had a fleeting thought about what this strange scene might look like to another driver coming down the road, but in the same moment I peered out the windshield up front to see that the van was now driving itself down a paved but unmarked road, flanked by forest on both sides.

Another soft moan and increased pressure from the shapely form sitting on my lap drew my attention back within the vehicle. Leaning in and looking over the white blouse, I could see the sleeve of the compression shirt playing against the thigh of the black shorts. The end of the sleeve pointed to where the thick, curvy legs joined, and I watched as invisible fingers traced a path up and down the center seam.

When I saw the teal dress turn back toward us from the passenger seat, I couldn't help but to feel the blood rushing to my face again. 'Solids' or not, she was the guardian of the wonderful feminine entity currently sitting on my lap, standing my manhood to attention and making fitful little sounds of pleasure. I don't know if she could detect my apprehension, but she certainly helped it to subside when the shiny rounded chest of the tube dress started shifting on its own as well, one of the breasts squeezed and lifted by a full-palm press while the other gently bobbed, a single, soft indentation swirling around the front.

I sighed, letting go of the mesh breast and hooking my arm around her waist. The younger voice let out a squeak as I pulled it higher on my lap, allowing my hand to reach further inside the well-filled pants. Inside the shorts and leggings now, I felt the string of a thong running along the inside of the waist, held fast by magic intangible pressure against the other two layers. I followed the string to the middle of the backside, where it took a non-euclidean turn down between the cheeks of a booty that wasn't there.

Tracing it downward, I found a spot where the string seemed to lift away from the valley in the tights, resulting from a thong's ability to wedge between, unrestricted. Feeling more comfortable with the situation now that the teal dress was engaging in some... self-participation, I hooked my finger around the string and tugged it gently back.

"Oooh," the girlish voice giggled. I tugged again, and another moan came from the outfit in response. While I continued down the thong, approaching the front, I could feel myself through the leggings and shorts pushing against me. The space between the thong and the leggings got tighter, and just as I was about to retreat, I felt the outfit lift off of me again just slightly. "More," she cooed. "Do more."

My fingertips were gliding along a widening strip of fabric as the van turned onto a narrower, almost hidden lane. As I worked my fingers against a telltale shape of the forbidden fruit beneath the lace, the compression shirt next to us withdrew its sleeve at the shorts and moved in beneath the outfit's now-hovering thighs. I leaned back and  looked down, expecting to see the invisible hand make an impression in the butt of the tight shorts, but instead, the button on my pants popped open, as if by magic.

I wasn't sure if these entities could do any more but heavy petting, but I certainly wasn't going to stop them from trying. But as the zipper of my pants climbed slowly down the ladder of metal teeth, the van pulled up to a huge contemporary home with a decent sized yard, apparently shrouded from any neighbors by high, thick brush intermingling with the pine and deciduous forest usual for the area. The size of the lot alone meant the property had to be worth a ton of money, but that was about the last thing on my mind.

"Home sweet home," said the mature voice up front as the van shut off. Both doors on the passenger side opened, but while the shiny teal dress hovered out, its hips swaying as it moved to the back door, the action in the back seat continued. As I felt my pants starting to tug themselves down between my body and the seat, I gasped a little. My hand withdrew from the younger voice's outfit as I rose into the air, allowing my pants to sail clear down my hips.

The white blouse, shorts and leggings turned over in the air, and now the huge bubbly sheer tits were right in my face, hanging over me. But now my attention was pulled to my toes, which were now suspended in midair like the rest of me as my shoes untied themselves and leapt off of my feet, jumping out of the van.

"Hey, where are they g--" I was stopped mid-sentence my the cuffs of my pants pulling away from my ankles as my body rotated, feet first, out the van's side door. The pants slid off my legs effortlessly, landing upright on the driveway with my shape still in them. Rather, they hovered a few inches off the asphalt, but the legs moved as if they were taking steps toward the house.

"They're our guests now," said the compression shirt, who leaned over my hovering head, pressing its invisible breasts against me and giggling.

"Hey, now...that was my move to make," the white blouse said, exaggerating its breasts even more in retaliation. I thought in the exchange that I sensed some kind of sibling rivalry--though not exactly, since I was already told these magical beings weren't quite like a "solid" in terms of their relations.

"Girls," the older voice said through the back door, which was now open, "take your new toy upstairs to play for a bit. I'm going to get started on a meal for him."

So my clothes were guests... but I was a toy? Somehow, after this day, not only did the idea not offend or frighten me--but it actually seemed to make sense. Also, it kind of went without saying that I wasn't going to mind being 'played with' if the scene upstairs carried out anywhere near to the scene in the van.

"He's my toy," The white blouse said, snuggling against me as all three of us reclined on thin air, hovering out of the van and toward the house's French doors. "Betcha didn't think you'd get to see these curves, let alone hold them against you," the outfit whispered to me as we hovered through the threshold.

"I didn't expect to see -- or not see -- just about anything I've experienced today." My nerves were jumping everywhere at this point. Between the unknown big box store with its unconventional shoppers, this outfit that obviously had me targeted from the start, and the surreal teasing I received in the van, I couldn't wait to see what was next.

"I'm a little jealous you got a first-timer," the athletic outfit said, hovering a little behind us. "You'd better share."

"My first time...and you're more worried about yourself than offering me some congratulations?" The outfit wrapped its leggings around my boxer clad legs, squeezing me. I happily reciprocated, wrapping my arms around the waist of the shorts and grabbing two handfuls of firm, round ass.

Then what she said finally occurred to me.

"Your...first time?" I asked as we passed through a fancy-looking entryway, hovering up a great set of wooden stairs.

"You seem surprised. I thought all that talk between her and I would have made it clear."  As we went the rest of the way up the stairs, we hovered upright, entangled. I was pushed gently against the wall at the top of the stairs, and the sheer breasts against me swelled again as the butt in the leggings did the same, even as it was still gripped by my hands. "It doesn't matter though, does it?"

I shook my head as the other outfit hovered past us and down the hall, slipping into one of the rooms. The outfit pressed against me pulled away a bit, and I released it, letting my hands relax. I stayed fast against the wall, free of gravity, as my shirt buttons came to life and dove into their holes, opening my button down.

Something coming up the stairs caught my eye, and as my dress shirt pulled itself over my shoulders and descended down my arms, I watched my own empty pants climbing the stairs. A minute later, a red satin nightgown followed behind, gracefully billowing after it. When my pants reached the top of the stairs, my shirt flew off my arms and joined them, filling itself out above the waist and re-buttoning again. The sheer shirt outfit pressed its enormous tits against me again, laughing.

"You're not nervous, are you?" Came a girlish giggle from right in front of me. "Mind if we take off the rest?" Before I could even answer, a tug came at the waistband of my boxers. My attention was jumping between what was happening below and my outfit dancing down the hall with the empty red nightgown. "Maybe I can help you calm down."

Just then, I felt a small, soft hand dive into my boxers and wrap silky fingers around my most sensitive part. I would've moaned, except that the outfit leaned in again, and I felt pillowy gentle lips against my own, locking me into a surprise kiss. Feeling my mouth forced open by a velvety wet tongue, I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around the back of the empty sheer blouse.

"I wanted to do that since I watched your hands working over that dress," her voice said, almost whispering. The position of the disembodied hand in my boxers and the fact that we were still kissing made it clear that her not-so-solid parts could multitask far better than my physical ones.

"Fuck, would you bring him in here already?" The athletic outfit hovered halfway out a doorway down the hall, its sleeve positioned below its midsection and moving about suggestively along contours hidden behind the doorway.

"We've got plenty of time..." came the seductive whisper again as I was peeled off the wall and pulled toward the room with no sign of the long kiss letting up. I felt the athletic outfit curl itself around my backside and suddenly there was another mouth at the back of my neck, kissing and licking its way to my earlobe. As I bobbed into the bedroom, the door shut behind us, and there was no question in my mind that whatever these entities had planned, I wasn't going to be disappointed...