Being that the van was full, I wondered if today was really as simple as a ride home.

"So, uh—usual destination?" I asked no one in particular.

"Your place today," the driver said, raising her eyebrows at me through the mirror. "I promised you new roommates eventually, didn't I?" I looked around at the others in the van, especially the long-sleeved white top with the denim skirt and white fishnets. New roommates? Yay.

"I was hoping you'd be included in that," I said, eyeing the driver.

"And how do you know I'm not?" She asked. "You know I'm not the only one who can drive this van."

"If I remember right—no one really needs to drive it." A few laughs came from around the van.

"Someone's always driving," she said, "even when it doesn't look like anyone's at the wheel. But you already knew that."

"Well, I just wish I'd known to expect you. My place is kinda messy."

"I wouldn't worry about that," The driver said. "You know how helpful we like to be, especially when the fun starts."

"And on the topic of fun," I ask, "Are you gonna get to keep that form for a while?" The driver turned around in her seat as the wheel continued steering itself.

"Oh, you like this look?" She asked, her smile gleaming at me. I nodded vigorously.

"Uh-huh," I say. "Very much so."

"Goooood," she said, turning back to the front. "I'll keep it around for a little while."

As we got closer to my place, a duffel bag came out from under the middle seat and puffed up like it was filling with air. The big flap on top unzipped, and a few groans were audible in the van.

"Alright ladies, I know," The driver said. "When y'all can pull the same trick as me, you can walk around the solids all you want. Until then, discretion takes priority in this neighborhood." One by one, the outfits slimmed, folding themselves up neatly as they lost their shape on the seats. The folded clothing hovered into the bag on its own, and by the time the van pulled into my driveway, the bag was zipped.

"Well, let's go," the driver said as my side door slid open. I was just about to get out when I felt my pants legs pull and push me into position. The duffel handles hovered up to my arm, which extended itself outward with the help of my sleeve. I grabbed the bag, relinquishing all other control to my clothes as I was brought out of the van by my own outfit's locomotion.

"A little pushy today, are we?" I ask her as she steps out of the van.

"Boy, you're about to see what pushy is," she said, strutting around to my side as my own outfit held me still. Every step of her dark, silky legs made me wonder if she was as touchable as she seemed. I'd been told that they had the ability to do this—to project a whole human body when the need arose—but I was under the impression that it was more difficult than the forms I was used to experiencing.

She stepped in front of me, walking toward my front door with her hips swinging in her tight shorts. Her beautiful glossy legs led right up to a gorgeously-shaped ass filling strained denim, and for a moment I wondered what my neighbors would think of me following this young, scantily-clad woman to my door. She held a single finger up and stopped.

"Listen," she said, turning back to me. "if you pay close attention, you can hear the sound of one of your very curious neighbors absolutely cursing my body." She giggled. "Let's see if I can't push her a little farther." She leaned into me, and before I could react, her dark brown eyes were peering into my own as our lips locked.

She was as warm, wet and soft as I expected, but when she made contact with me, I felt the same electric pulse as when I was taken to her place, when she inhabited a pink robe and held me tight it its silk tendrils. I went limp as her tongue invaded me, but my outfit happily kept me aloft.

"Yeahhhh..." She whispered to me. "Now I can see her." The deep brown eyes darted around playfully before looking back at me. "Mm-hmmm... you might be getting another surprise tonight," she said, giving me a final quick peck on the lips. "What do you think of your neighbor Sheila?"

Sheila was probably my age, but she didn't look it. An absolutely fine woman who could outdress the rest of the block—I was pretty much intimidated by her. I heard she was a widow, but I didn't really know the details since I mostly kept to myself at home.

But now that the seed was planted, I thought of my new acquaintances' favorite activities paired with Sheila's sharp attitude and sharper couture. Hi-heels, stockings, satin blouses and lacy lingerie...

"My goodness," The driver giggled, pulling me to the door as my clothes advanced me, "For a solid, your mind is pretty transparent." I laughed as my front door opened on its own.

"Well, considering how I've been trained to operate..." I trailed off as I was pulled inside.

The moment the door slammed, my curtains drew themselves, and the duffel bag unzipped again. Half a dozen outfits came out of the bag, faithfully filling to the curvy dimensions of the clothing and wandering off. What I didn't know was that across the street, Sheila was already being incorporated into my guests' plan.

***

"Who is that gold-digging little vixen?" Sheila muttered, still sitting at her breakfast nook and staring at the front door across the street. "Mr. Shy & Quiet apparently wasn't so aloof with that one..."

Upstairs, in Sheila's room, the feet on a pair of worn nylons sprang from a laundry basket, draping themselves over the side and inflating. As the translucent legs filled and started to stand, more items from the basket begin to rise up and fill to Sheila's cougarly curves.

"Ooh, sexy!" Sheila's nylons said, squeaking at the red lace bra and panty set that filled out next to them.

"Quiet! You're gonna get us caught," The bra replied. "What would Sheila do if she saw us walking and talking on our own?"

"Now that you mention it, I feel like finding out," the nylons said, heading for the door.

"No, wait!" The lingerie pleaded. "We're just supposed to—"

***

In my house, I could hear the soft footfalls of outfits on my 2nd floor, doing who knows what as my guests explored. I turned back to the young woman leaning on my kitchen counter, staring at me with her arms folded in front of her chest.

"You belong to me now. You know that, don't you?" It didn't take a social scientist to read the smug look on her face.

"You've mentioned that—maybe not in so many words, but—yeah, I suppose I know that."

"Nah," She grinned. "Not yet you don't. So far you've only been on a couple joyrides here and there. It's all fun and games until you try and say 'no' to me."

I approach her slowly, trying my best to sound cool.

"How could I say no to that face?" I smile.

"Oh, so it's this face," she laughed. "So you mean like, if I showed up like this, you could say no?" The form inside the clothing vanished entirely, leaving only the tank top and jean shorts behind. From my perspective, I could also see inside the clothes, making out the back close of a pink strapless bra inside the tank and matching bikini briefs in the denim shorts.

As I tried to reach for where I thought a shoulder would still be, my hand passed right through the space and simply brushed against the shoulder strap of the tank top.

"Whoa, so you're not just turning invisible when you do that?"

"Silly solid," she said while my fingers played along the neckline of her tank top, "You know better—this is how I looked when we first met, remember?"

"Of course I remember...it's just that when you make it so I see you, I can touch all of you too. I wasn't sure if the seeing and the touching were, erm, mutually dependent."  

"Not exactly, actually." Suddenly, she reappeared, and now my fingers were just over her visible cleavage. Something about my proximity made me wonder...

"What exactly would've happened if you'd reappeared while my hand was still in there?" I asked.

"Nothing as severe as you're imagining," she said. She held her hands up, looking at them. "Whether you can touch this or not—it's projected."

"Fake, you mean. An illusion."

"Fake?!" She exclaimed with mock exasperation, reaching up and messing with my hair. "When you dress up for a club or an interview or something, is that fake? Is it an illusion?" I knew she was just playing with me, but I scrambled to explanation anyway.

"Oh, no, I just meant that—"

"No, I know what you mean...but 'fake' and 'illusion' both seem so—negative?" She disappeared inside her clothes once more, leaving the denim shorts and white tank hovering in space. "This is real." The outfit struck a pose, and her mocha skin reappeared inside it, her smile gleaming at me once more. "And this is real, too." She held a hand out toward me. "Now don't freak out, okay?" She moved the hand forward, but when it met my shirt, her fingertips passed right through it. As she kept moving, I felt a warm tingling in my solar plexus, and I looked down in awe.

"You're—you're going into me?!" Her fingers passed through my shirt up to the third knuckle, and I stared at her, my head begging for an explanation.

"Just illustrating my point. Now watch this." The visibly-opaque but materially-phasing hand slipped back out between the molecules of my chest and shirt, and before I knew it, she was gone again. This time, the tank top and jean shorts fell to the ground as well.

"So now you're—"

"Shh..." she said. "Hold your hands out in front of you." I comply, cautiously at first. "Extended out in front of you." I shift again. "A bit lower...and now a little closer together." A little giggle. "Perfect! Now don't move."

I stood there in silence, my hands blindly reaching out for nothing.

"Are you—"

"Shh! Stop flapping your fleshy mouth. Feel." I'm standing still in the quiet room for a second, listening to things shuffling around elsewhere in the house. "Ready?"

I jumped a bit when I felt warmth against my palms, but I held my hands as steadily as I could. Before long, warm, soft pressure pushed against my hands until every nerve ending was filled up to the fingertips.

"This—" Against the very centers of my palms were the giveaway—two hardened points centered in silky spheroid shapes. "Oh, wow...can I—"

"Don't be so polite about it," she laughed. "You're a man. Do what comes naturally." And while I suppose it was silly of me to ask after the time I'd spent with this lascivious 'non-solid', this was a whole new experience altogether.

I squeezed gingerly, eliciting something like a sigh from the voice in front of me. I must've been grinning like a fool as I guided my hands around to the sides of the orbs, seeking invisible nipples to stroke with my thumbs.

"Mmm...that's nice." She began leaning against me harder at that point, and as the unseen breasts sank deeper into my hands, I felt motion at my waist.

"You can feel that, then?"

"I like it..." She said as the button on my pants popped itself open. "I like watching you do it and experiencing your body's reactions to it..." I groaned a little as I felt a gentle squeeze at my crotch. "I like the atmosphere that comes from this kind of play..." she said dreamily as my zipper ambled down its track, "but feel isn't really the best word for it. My analog for a nervous system doesn't need a body—so what I 'feel' encompasses the entire space of my awareness."

"Huh," was the most intelligent affirmative response I had to that. I'm sure I sort of understood what she was saying, but unlike her 'nervous system', mine was very localized and running extremely hot in a couple key locations.

My brain, for instance, was quite content with the prospect of heavy, beautifully-shaped tits filling my palms, even without any visual cue as to what my curious hands were manipulating. I looked down at the discarded outfit, wondering why we hadn't done this before.

"Do you miss having something to look at?" She asked.

"No, it's just—" I let one hand glide down her chest and over a soft stomach, stopping just after I felt a belly button. "No, I mean—yes, it's nice to look at you all dressed up, visible or not, but I was just thinking...for someone like you, why not always go around this way?" She laughed as my slacks starting peeling away from me, pulled open by unseen hands. I feel her brush away my hand on her midsection.

"Well, how do I put this for a solid... can you run?"

"Run?"

"Run," she said, jerking my pants forward a bit before halting the attention at my waist. "You know, faster than walking, lots of olympic events..."

"Yeah," I laughed. "Not like I used to, but—"

"Well, if you're going somewhere, why not run all the time?"

"Because there are situations where it doesn't make much sense?"

"Voila, babe." With a quick jerk, the khaki material covering my lower half fell down around my ankles. "I don't care what they say—even a solid can be taught." A giggle right in front of me just before I feel a peck on my cheek. I can't help but smile.

"Fair enough, but I guess I mean — considering what happens when I'm a guest at your place, you didn't think that this trick would—" A finger fell against my lips now, and I shut up as the waist of my boxers stretched just wide enough for a petite but determined hand to slip in.

"Trust me, would you? I have my reasons. I mean, you can imagine that the hierarchy of intimacy would be a bit different for someone like me, right?" I nodded, but it didn't hit me until a second later when I thought back to my first encounter with the non-solids. She was in a complete outfit—and happy to tease me about how she was filling it—but her more experienced companion was wearing nothing at all until she offered to model that tube dress when we struck up a conversation.

"It has to do with why she didn't want you being out without clothes, doesn't it?"

"Close—but it has more to do with how we interact. Touching and playing and teasing...it's mostly friendly interaction, even if we're playing with the parts that you solids like to hide."

Which made sense to me, actually. We had thousands of years of custom to slowly determine which parts were fine to show off and which needed to be hidden away, but on the outside looking in—a non-solid would probably find that division kind of irrational. I could hear it now: 'You mean I can vigorously shake your hand and you won't have a problem with it, but I'm not even allowed to touch that thing between your legs?'

I reach up slowly as her invisible hand in my boxers coaxes me to erection. I make gentle contact with what feels like warm silk, and my fingers trail down it until they round the side of what I imagine to be her chin.

"So touching and playing is just like friendly conversation," I say, "unless you're the one that's being touched." I let my eyes gaze through where I think hers would be, and suddenly, a hand wraps around the back of my head and pulls me in.

As we lock into a passionate kiss, her hand below grabs possessively, and I hum an internal moan.

"Can I be honest with you?" I hear her voice ask even as our tongues loop and dance with each other. I manage a nod. "I wanted to kidnap you and never take you home again." I finally manage to pull my lips away, though her hand goes on working me.

"You've—I mean—non-solids do that?"

"Certainly. There's plenty that don't buy the whole 'voluntary companion' measure on account of how pliable you are." And with that, her fondling turns into a stroke travelling the full length of my shaft slowly and steadily.

"Mmm...meaning?"

"Meaning that many of us justify stealing away involuntary participants because the trend shows that even the most combative subjects develop bonds over time."

"Just stealing people away from their lives, wholesale?"

"Would you complain?" Comes a breathy whisper in my ear, joined by a tight grip around my cock.

"Probably not..."

"We have conventions...preferences. Suffering, for instance, isn't attractive. Someone who would be missing a solid-partner they're madly in love with, or someone who would sincerely grieve being away from whatever they left behind...they're generally hands off."

"But--how do you tell?"

"Little games like sending you into that store." There's movement at my shirt now, and I watch as the top button twists around and pops out of its hole. "Show a solid something crazy—something they can't explain—and see what happens."

"You find the most curious people by vetting them."

"Not really 'the most curious'...more like the intended target. Some of us like shy people, some of us like bad-ass wannabes in prime form for obedience training, and some of us just like a friendly, bored solid who's open to things like...sharing a big-box store with a couple hundred beings without bodies."

"But aren't I your first conquest? How'd you know what you were looking for?"

"I was looking for you..." she said. Her hand loosened around my cock and slid around my hip, her fingertips dancing down my butt and squeezing a handful. "...and now I've got you." As she pulled me close, I felt her chest and head nuzzle against me. Her other hand was at my chest, and I watched the negative space of her fingers caress my torso as she unbuttoned my shirt slowly.

"Suppose you change your mind later on," I say, which makes her pull me closer.

"Not gonna happen," she says. "Never does." My shirt is peeled off over my shoulders, and it falls to the floor.

"So I guess if you haven't stolen me away by now, I'm safe?" She laughs at my question.

"I bet our definitions of 'safe' are very, very different." And I guess I expected the dodge. Still, I wondered...

"How do you get away with just stealing people away?"

"There are a few ways to do it, some more complicated than others. A farewell note and a couple of phone calls usually does the trick, but lately we've learned even more graceful ways of getting what we want without being disruptive to solid society." Suddenly her caresses stopped, and I felt her fingers retreat from me.

"Something wrong?" I asked. Suddenly, my discarded clothing began to lift off of the floor. My khakis and button-down shirt filled out to my own shape and paired up--the shirt tucking in as the belt fastened itself.

"No, not wrong, per se--but there's more to that neighbor of yours than I realized."

"What do you mean?"

***

Sheila just stared at the nylons sitting on her couch, watching-- frozen -- as a tv remote hovering over them clicked through the channels.

"Oh, did'ja finally pull yourself away from that window?" Sheila took a step back, putting her hand to her mouth.

"I--I...what?"

"Oh, come on--" The stockings said. "I know jealousy when I see it." The empty lower half scooted over on the brown leather couch, and Sheila's jaw dropped as she saw the cushion sink in with the shape of the translucent butt pushing against it. She heard a soft whap-whap-whap as the middle cushion flexed a bit. "Come on, girl, sit down -- let's have a talk."

"How is--"

"Deep breath, now. C'mon, I ain't gonna bite." Sheila looked down the hall for a moment, then back out toward the kitchen.

"You're--talking to me."

"If you're gonna sit down and listen..." The hovering remote flicked the TV off, and the legs crossed themselves, turning slightly toward Sheila. "Well?"

Her eyes on the vocal pantyhose the entire time, Sheila slowly moved to the couch, sitting on the extreme opposite end.

"He's looked at you plenty of times, you know..." The stockings rocked a translucent foot up and down. "Especially when he's caught you headed out in something like me."

"He, um..." Much as she wasn't sure what was happening, the topic held her attention enough to let her overlook who -- or what -- she was talking to. "He really has?"

"Uh-huhhh, girl." The hose said. "You got a walk in those heels -- and you know it." Sheila began to relax, leaning back against the leather and throwing her hands up.

"Man hasn't even said 'hi' to me," She complained. "Been living a driveway away from each other what -- two, three years?" Something caught her attention in the corner of her eye, and she turned to see her red lace bra and matching panties hovering behind her.

"Hi, Sheila," the lingerie said. Her eyes went wide again, but her body didn't tense up quite as much as when she first encountered the invisibly-filled hose.

"See? I told you she'd be fine with us," The pantyhose said. "Right, Sheila?"

"Well--" Sheila gave her floating, contoured underwear and up-and-down. "Hi," she said. "But I mean, y'all in my head...right?"

"No, honey -- you're not losin' it," Came a voice from the bra, "You're just gettin' some extra help from the girls that know you best, that's all."

"My clothes?" Sheila asked.

"Who better? Scoot over, girl. Let me get some room." Sheila moved to the center cushion, watching the bra and panties take a seat. Like the hose, the panties and bra pushed against the couch cushions, but where the clothing ended, the contours continued as if an invisible body was pressing against them. Sheila just stared where thick unseen thighs were pressing into the leather.

"I told you we don't bite," The pantyhose said. "We don't mind you being curious either -- no such thing as personal space, right? We've already been close as we can get."

"So -- how y'all doing this?" Sheila asked.

"Don't worry about how, sugar," The lingerie said. "We're here for the why." The set scooted closer to Sheila, who looked down into the empty cups of the bra.

"Okay...so, what's the why?" The top button of Sheila's shirt flexed a bit, then turned and pushed itself out of its hole. "Um--hey..."

"Relax, girl. Nothing I haven't seen before." The next button started to move, and Sheila put her hands up to stop the motion.

"No, now come on--" Sheila said. "I think I've been handling all this pretty well. Can y'all at least answer some questions?"

"We wanna get you ready for company," The pantyhose said. "Get you and your neighbor a little bit more acquainted." Now her shirt started tugging from the bottom, shifting around all on its own.

"Hey, hey--"

"Girl, we're just gonna put you in something a little more flattering, okay? I promise we'll behave ourselves... for now." Sheila huffed and let go of her shirt, looking down at it as it began popping buttons from the top down.

"How do I know you aren't some kinda evil tempter or something like that?" Sheila leaned forward as the unbuttoned shirt began shifting, putting her arms up to let it fly up over her shoulders.

"Well, you're sayin' it kinda lightly if that's what you're thinking," her lingerie said.

"I don't think it--" she shrugged, the motion of her shoulders making her d-cups jiggle a bit. "Tell you the truth, I don't believe in that stuff -- but then I wouldn't have thought my clothes would be walkin' and talkin' to me, either."

"Well, if it helps, what's happening here isn't magic -- so it's not supernatural -- so it's not... any of those bad things your kind might associate with the unexplained." The lingerie leaned in. "That help?"

"Answers the question for now," Sheila said. She watched as her shirt hung in the air, apparently draped over invisible shoulders. The front buttoned itself once again without her in it, and the shirt inflated until the fabric was tight -- the buttons straining to keep themselves fastened.

"Why you doin' that?"

"Relax," an approximation of her voice answered back as the shirt waved a sleeve at her. "Just seein' what I can handle in here."

"Speakin' of handling..." Came a voice below her, "Can we try that in here?" Sheila looked down wide-eyed at her yellow satin bra.

"Hold up!" Sheila said, putting her hands up. "All y'all can talk now?"

"In a manner, we've all been able to talk since someone first put us on," said the pantyhose. "It's just that you can hear us now -- and we can move without your help."

"I'm sorry," came the apology from the brassiere she was wearing. "Didn't mean to freak you out -- just tryin' to help." The full-coverage cups squeezed gently against her, and Sheila sucked air.

"Alright, alright," She said, reaching behind her and unclipping the underwear. The straps untensed and bounced over her shoulders, but the cups stayed fixed to her. "Y'all need to just slow down a minute and let me take all this in, okay?" The yellow bra floated away, and Sheila's breasts slightly dropped and settled. She wrapped a forearm around them, holding them against her.

Now she was topless, looking down at her tights and imagining the panties underneath them chiming in.

"If the rest of y'all got somethin' to say -- please, please just wait up." She stood up off the couch and looked around the room. Pantyhose, a lingerie set, and now, the shirt and bra she was just wearing, all looking like ghost copies of herself. Well, except the shirt -- that looked like her and more. "When I woke up this mornin', y'all were just my clothes. My clothes. Don't know what's gone on since then -- still not sure I haven't gone off the deep end --but if y'all really wanna help... take it easy on me. Please."

The pantyhose uncrossed their legs and stood, facing the set of lingerie on the couch.

"You see, this is your fault. We could've been more subtle, but noooo-- you had to walk right down and--"

"My fault?! You stood right up in the hamper and opened your big mouth first. Now if you wanna blame someone..."

"Ladies!" Sheila said, her tone finally asserting some control. "We're cool, okay? C-o-o-l." She looked down at herself. "Now, I'm half-naked, I'm pretty confused about all this, and I just want some cooperation and some information. That's all." The clothes were all silent. "Now, normal person woulda been straight out that door if they saw y'all doin' what you're doin' right now. Not even sure why I wasn't, actually, but I think I get some credit for sticking around."

"We're sorry, Sheila," Her lingerie set said, getting up from the couch. "But when all you can do is wait in a drawer or basket until someone touches you and wears you -- the whole locomotion thing is really kind of exciting."

Sheila blinked her eyes, shook her head and started laughing.

"You know, I'm crazy for sayin' this, but I think I get it." She sighed. "Cooperation and information, okay? From my end too." Straps, waists and a collar all nodded as she heard a careful chorus of agreement. "Good," She chuckled. "Now y'all said you wanted to dress me. Let's start there."

* * *

"You're a tease," I said, hovering up my stairs toward my bedroom. "You're gonna do all that to me and tell me I've gotta wait?"

"Hey now, plans change," The disembodied voice said. "Besides, I promise your patience'll be rewarded. I've got a pretty good track record for that, don't I?" I felt my boxers squeeze gently around the front of me.

"Uh...uh-huh." I sailed into my bedroom and was placed on the bed. Two of her outfits from the duffel were present--a tight white denim miniskirt and grey turtleneck going through my drawers, and shiny pink leggings and a form-fitting tee shifting things around in my closet. "What's going on?"

"Just getting acclimated with your wardrobe," she said. "Seeing what you got--passing along some useful skills." I could guess what that meant.

"To all my clothes?" I asked.

"Oh--no, sweetie. To all your things." I remembered the big-box store where I met her. Carts with nothing behind them--not even outfits. Canvas bags hovering down aisles all on their own.

"So how is it that you non-solids haven't taken over the whole world yet?" I asked, watching the gray turtleneck pull open my sock drawer.

"How do you know we haven't?" She laughed. Touche to that. "You nervous?"

"Not a bit," I shrugged, staring at the white denim butt. "All I could see is improvement."

The outfit turned around and sauntered over to the bed as things continued moving in the drawers all on their own.

"Flatterer..." The turtleneck and skirt floated higher into the air until they were perched over me, hovering horizontally near my ceiling. "C'mere." The turtleneck's sleeve pointed to me, and instead of my body breaking free of gravity again, my whole mattress took to the air, leaving the boxspring and frame. The outfit descended on me, meeting the mattress halfway up. As the sleeves reached out for me, invisible fingers curled around my arms, and I felt firm thighs press against the outsides of my own.

"You know, you--" I was silenced by warm, unseen lips--and an aggressive tongue parting my own as her ghostly body pressed against mine.

"Hush, silly." She giggled, even as her mouth kept playing acrobat. "There's so much I'm interested in knowing about how you do these kinds of things..." she continued, "so I was thinking maybe it's not enough to keep one pet."

I couldn't escape her mouth to ask what she meant, but I was pretty sure already.

* * *

"Did y'all have something in mind?"

"How about that red dress?" The lacy crimson lingerie set said. "That's pretty sexy on you."

"Of course you'd say that," Sheila's exaggerated shirt responded. "A little biased, aren't you?" The shirt turned to Sheila. "I think some nice jeans and a tanktop," it said. "Something that shows your shape off a bit more."

"There's a couple different ways to do this," The pantyhose said, approaching Sheila. "Maybe you'd like us to model some options for you and put these new talents to use." Sheila was distracted, looking out toward her kitchen and thinking about what she'd seen earlier through the window. The panyhose turned around and bumped her with their shapely rear end.

"Uh! Oh...I'm sorry. It's just--we're talkin' like dressing me up is gonna change the fact that a pretty fine-lookin' woman younger than I am followed him into that house today." She shrugged. "They didn't exactly look like friends or family, you know?"

Laughter from all over the room now.

"Oh, honey -- don't worry about that girl," Her button-busting shirt said. "Trust us." Sheila gave the hovering top a skeptical look.

"Why not? You gonna fly yourselves over there and scare her away?"

"No ma'am," The pantyhose said. "Like we explained...you're gonna have company."

"But how's he gonna--"

"Come on, let's get you dressed." Everything but the pantyhose hovered and bobbed down the hall toward her bedroom. As soon as the pantyhose followed, Sheila felt her own tights make their move. With a gasp, she was soon following too, her toes just barely meeting the ground as her tights carried her shapely legs down the hall all on their own.

In her room, she found that the clothes on her back and the items she'd been conversing with weren't the only things in her house ready to get up  and move.

"Oh my lord..." Sheila was still holding her chest with one arm as she put the other hand to her mouth. It looked like invisible people were throwing a party in her room--there were stacked jeans and tights leaning against walls and furniture, some showing off and wiggling their round backsides, shoes and socks pacing along the rug, tank and tube tops, dress shirts and skirts, a long summer dress and even a couple of bathing suits strutting their stuff.

"Now don't be shy, Sheila honey..." A green satin dress shirt and charcoal pencil skirt scissored over to her and held out a sleeve. She felt soft, unseen fingers against her own, and they soon pried away her arm holding back her chest. The business outfit pulled her into a spin, and before she knew it, her tights took control of her legs again, making her follow-through with the makeshift dance.

The spin landed her against the spread of the satin shirt, and now the two were dancing cheek to cheek (if the empty outfit had cheeks) with the shirt and skirt leading the way and Sheila's tights making her follow.

She looked at the empty sleeve, her fingers interwoven with those of an unseen hand. The other sleeve was curled around her back, sliding lower and eventually squeezing her butt through her tights.

"Ooh!" Sheila laughed, pulling the satin blouse against her with the arm wrapped around it. "Now where'd y'all learn moves like this?"

"You know where, baby," The satin shirt said. "It's been a while, but there's certainly a few of us holed up in the closet who remember the Sheila that wasn't afraid to show off." The collar motioned to a second-skin pair of thin white tights that would leave nothing to the imagination--if their wearer was visible.

"Let's get some music up in here...!" A squeaky female voice shouted. Sheila's mp3 player hovered off her dresser and met up with the aux cable hanging from her old stereo. The volume dial spun up as a reggaeton beat began blasting out of the well-used speakers.

The business casual outfit spun Sheila back out again, raising her arm over her head. When it let her hand go, she panicked for a moment, throwing both of her hands into the air to steady herself.

That, of course, wasn't necessary thanks to the capable motions of her tights, but it did allow a shiny red tube top--a club peice she hadn't seen in a long while--to pull itself over her head and slide down over her bouncing chest.

"Y'all are craaazy!" Sheila let out a belly laugh while her tube top and tights set her in motion all by themselves. Other garments joined up together, thinning out the crowd a bit as independent pieces became outfits, some of them dancing right out the bedroom door. The red lace lingerie slid their bottoms into the nylon pantyhose, following Sheila's dirty laundry basket as it headed for her basement door.

"Have fun, ladies--but don't forget, you've got a job to do!" The pantyhose shouted over the music before disappearing around the corner.

"Aww, we got plenty of time," The tube top chuckled, lifting Sheila's breasts in the glossy fabric and pushing them together. Sheila squeaked and put her hands up, holding her chest in her palms.

"Ooh--now, don't...mmmm..." The stretchy fabric began gently kneading her despite her hands trying to hold herself still. She couldn't help but smile, looking down at the tube top as she slowly brought her hands away. "Now--y'said you were gonna behave..."

"Ha! Maybe they said," the tube top chirped. "But I remember the party girl who bought this top. Don't you, Sheila?" A pair of red glossy heels danced beneath her, and without her even paying attention, the tights danced her legs and dropped her feet right into place in the shoes, one at a time. "Now do you think mister neighbor wants to see you in your Sunday best, or do you think he'd rather see this?" The outfit made her shift and jiggle over to her full-length mirror as the music played on.

She went with it now, getting her arms into the rhythm of the music as the outfit carried the rest of her body. She barely recognized herself in the mirror. It'd been years since she cut loose--so long since she was dressed in a "look-at-me" outfit and shaking her thing. Just some shoes and a tube top, and it looked like years taken off of her.

"Likin' it as much as we are, aren't you honey?" Her top asked. Sheila grinned as she watched herself move in the mirror.

"These tights are more for lounging around," Sheila said. She pointed to her  form-hugging, nearly-translucent tights dancing across the room. "How bout we do it old-school and try the white ones instead?"

"You got it, baby..." In an instant, her shoes slid out from under her, throwing her back onto her bed as they slid off of her feet. The waist of her black tights immediately started peeling off of her, revealing a black and white cotton thong. Sheila felt her legs held in the air by the tights, and she had to grip her bed to stay on it as they anxiously yanked away from her legs.

"Guess that means me too," said her thong. Sheila gasped as they wiggled their strip of fabric against her a bit before curling down her thighs.

"Is it me, or are my clothes tryin'a get a little bit freaky?" Her thong spun off her legs and plumped out to her shape, hovering over her.

"Yuh-huh, miss thang... and where do you think we get it from?" Sheila just laughed, swatting at it as it sailed by her and out the bedroom door.

"It's been a while since we did anything fun together," Sheila's white tights said, walking over beside her bed. Sheila blinked a couple times, staring at the cleft camel toe in the crotch of the tight fabric.

"I, uh--guess I don't have the energy I used to," Sheila said, her eyes fixed on the junction of the thick legs. "You doin' that for show?" Sheila asked, gesturing to the crotch.

"Look who's talking, lyin' there exposed..." Sheila blushed a little and closed her legs, feeling a bit silly about being shy with something that's been wrapped around those same parts. "Oh, I don't mind. In fact, I wouldn't mind ridin' my curves right up against yours with no one else gettin' in my way." Sheila gulped. Some of these things were unabashedly forward with her--but where exactly could that talk lead? "But you got company coming... so maybe later."

"Hey, lemme on." Sheila turned to see a pair of glossy white spandex boy shorts floating at her side. She narrowed her eyes at them and reached out to the fabric, stopping just short of it.

"Sorry...do you mind if I--"

"Naw, honey...we thought you'd never ask!" The boy shorts squealed. The white tights waiting patiently beside Sheila laughed as the spandex bottoms turned around, bending at the waist and presenting a jiggling invisible booty. Sheila ran her hand along the side of the hip and over the top of the waist, grabbing the hem of the shorts and pulling them a bit. The fabric stretched around the intangible curves as if displaced by an invisible form, but Sheila passed her other hand right over the top of the waist to find nothing there.

The shorts hovered a bit closer, making themselves more accessible. Sheila ran her hand down the outside of the hip and around the backside, squeezing the hollow cheek for a second and letting go, chuckling to herself.

"Oh, now you gonna tease me?" The boy shorts pushed their butt closer, dropping their booty inches from her face. "Come on--grab it like you mean it." Sheila shook her head, laughing.

"Y'all are crazy. I don't know how I got spun up to be seeing things like this, but--mmfff!" The boy shorts backed right up against her, bouncing and jiggling against her face. She was laid out against the bed now, but the white spandex wouldn't relent. The fabric itself gave with plump softness, but the shorts themselves were exerting enough pressure to pin her to the bed. "Lerrrrmeee-oggghhht!" Sheila demanded, muffled by the invisible ass. She put her hands against the spandex butt and buried her fingertips in the fabric, shaking her hands against the form and pushing it off of her.

"Y'all wanna play like that?" Sheila sat up and practically leapt on top of the boy shorts, grabbing onto the waist with one hand and slapping the shiny spandex ass with the other--laughing the whole time. Now the other outfits and items that had been dancing and cavorting took notice of the woman and her magic spandex shorts, slowing and stopping to watch Sheila delivering her playful blows. "Yeah!" Sheila hooted, winding up and smacking. "That what'cha wanted?"

Now the boy shorts presented again, and Sheila stood up on the bed, still nude below her waist and shamelessly spanking away at her empty shorts as they bounced to the beat. Now the pair had an audience of outfits cheering them on.

"Haaa...punish that booty!"

"Yeah, girl--smack it good!"

Before long, the dial on the stereo turned itself lower, and Sheila looked over her shoulder to see the pantyhose and lingerie standing in her bedroom doorway.

"I hate to break up all the fun, ladies," The pantyhose said, "but company...remember?" Sheila made a face and waved her hand at the outfit.

"I'm havin' fun," Sheila protested. "Lettin' loose like you asked. Isn't that what you wanted?" She gestured to the shorts. "Besides, they started it." She wound up and spanked the spandex on the ass once more.

"Ooh!" The shorts turned to face her, swishing their hips against her own.

"Now see, that's the nasty I remember..." The white tights said.

"I'm glad!" The pantyhose said, walking in. "I really am. But like I said, we've got a job to do." The white tights turned to face the pantyhose, and as they moved closer to each other, Sheila could see the negative space of invisible hands pressing into the slightly sheer white fabric.

The interactions between these things and herself were so flirtatious and impossibly confusing. If the clothes didn't have bodies in them, how was the hovering lingerie using those hands?

"Now get her dressed, and I'ma get the kitchen started. I promise our fun's far from over."  The lingerie leaned in, and the backside of the tights contorted with even deeper impressions from ghostly fingers.

Sheila knew she didn't imagine seeing the tights hover a couple inches higher, as if they were standing up on invisible toes. What she heard next was even more baffling. As the outfits tangled together, a very certain lip-smacking sound that only came from that kind of kiss could be heard from over the top of the tights. The telltale sound of a wet detachment of suction was followed by the lingerie and pantyhose sauntering back out the bedroom door.

"Come out when you're all ready, Sheila..."

Everyone seemed to be watching the white tights now, Sheila included.

"What?" The tights wiggled. "Y'all are some voyeurs." The room broke into laughter, and Sheila heaved a throw pillow in their direction--which stopped in mid-air and hovered gently back to the bed.

"How is it you do all that?" Sheila asked, sitting down on her bed again, legs out in front of her.

"Do what?" The tights asked.

"The pillow, the hovering, and--you know--was that a kiss I just heard?"

"Don't worry bout that, girl. Just let us get you ready--and you can discover more of our little talents later." Sheila held her legs out for the boy shorts.

"We even, right?" She asked.

"Oh, not even close. Just wait till you feel what I can do when you're wearing me." The boy shorts slid up her legs, climbing her thighs and letting her shift before snuggling around her crotch and butt.

"Easy," Sheila joked, “unless you want a paddle next time.”

"You got nothin on me, girl--you're in me." She felt the boy shorts goose her ass, and she gasped, grabbing her own butt.

"Okay, okay--my turn now. You two call a truce," The white tights said. Sheila swung her legs over the side of the bed to let them on, but her weight on the mattress suddenly became lighter and lighter before its surface disappeared from under her. She pulled in a deep breath as she put her arms out to her sides, realizing she couldn't even reach the bed anymore.

"I'm--I'm..."

"Mmm, you like that, don't you?" The boyshorts shrank gently around her crotch, revealing the shape of her lips behind the tightening fabric. Sheila's eyes rolled back as she raised a hand to her face, cradling her teased pussy with the other.

"Oh lorrrd, what can't y'all do?"

"Get you dressed if we keep gettin' distracted like this," the tights said.They let out a soft moan as their own camel toe shifted under the ministration of intangible hands. While Sheila hovered in midair, the tights finally turned and leapt over her feet, sliding up her silky legs and wrapping themselves over the already-snug boyshorts.

With her clothes in place, the red heels she wore earlier hovered up to meet her dainty feet, sliding themselves gently over her painted toenails as her body hovered toward her vanity.

Sheila blinked her eyes open as the boyshorts slid back and forth against her, hugging gently between her legs. Her eyes focused on a hovering tube of lipstick, uncapping itself and twisting out the deep red wax.

"Relax those lips, honey." Sheila obeyed, melting under the care and attention of her enchanted clothes. The stick painted dark crimson onto her lips. When it retreated, her business casual outfit approached from her side, lifting a silky green sleeve to her chin. It coaxed her head gently toward the space above its collar, and she suddenly felt the warmth and softness of lips against her own. It was a short, sweet kiss--nothing like the invisible one she heard from the tights and pantyhose before. When the satin blouse backed away again, now the outline of two translucent red lips hovered above the collar, curling into a smile.

"Mmm...we're gonna have so much fun with you, baby..."

Sheila's heart pounded. There was something so hauntingly sensual about watching those red lips speak to her, so seductive and certain about their power over her.

What exactly was going to happen with her neighbor--how would he react to seeing all this? Sheila dwelled on all this as a tube of mascara hovered up in front of her. She dutifully closed her eyes gently, then opened them again, looking up and down as her makeup applied itself. When it hovered back down to her desk, she looked at herself in the mirror, realizing now how long it'd been since she looked and felt so good.

Nah, she thought. She'd never, ever felt this good. It couldn't be real. She'd lacked good, loving attention for so long that her mind had finally resorted to making promises reality couldn't possibly keep. She wasn't just being pampered by some hired staff--it was her own belongings talking and fussing over her--and they were promising to deliver the guy next door.

"Can...I ask y'all just one question?"

"Of course, girl," Said the glossy tube top, perking her tits just slightly.

"When I wake up, promise me I get to do this again sometime?"

"Oh, honey..." her tights said, "I know all this must be too crazy for you to take as good ol' honest waking life--but trust me, we ain't goin' nowhere. You're gonna realize that very, very soon." Sheila's black curls shifted on her head, rearranging slightly before she hovered away from the mirror.

She sailed right out into the hall, past the living room where a pair of her jeans and an old tee holding her shape appeared to be directing a hovering feather duster. In the kitchen, a pot of coffee was brewing, and dishes were sailing out of the dishwasher, going to their proper places. The pantyhose and lingerie sat on the kitchen table, the translucent legs crossed as a see-thru tan foot bobbed up and down. The bra and hips pivoted toward her.

"Oh, Sheila--you look absolutely gorgeous." The outfit stood up. "I don't blame you girls for getting so frisky...I wanna lay her out on this table right now." Sheila started giggling.

"Seriously, why y'all so dirty-minded all the time?"

"Oh, we know you like it, honey," The tube top said, kneading her tits again and making her coo. "Yeah, that's right--don't even play."

"Mmm...you gonna put me down, or what?"

"Nope. We gonna keep-you-right-here." The boyshorts squeezed around her weightless butt as the tights gently massaged her thick thighs. "And you ain't gonna say what about it, because you're all ours." Sheila pursed her lips as the boyshorts played around her most sensitive area again, forcing sounds of pleasure from her.

"Alright ladies, alright," The pantyhose said. "Everything's almost ready. Wait for our guests before you go breaking out the games."

* * *

"And we're just gonna...walk right over there and knock?" I asked, watching my beat-up old leather belt snake around my jeans, expertly threading each loop.

"Uh-uh," her voice said, coming from the curvy pink leggings and the tight white tee. "You're gonna walk right over there." The hollow short sleeve pointed at me. "I'm gonna stay here and take care of some things."

"Things like wh--uhhh..." something squeezed me in my boxers and jeans, wrapping invisible fingers around me. There was no gap in the waist of my pants where a hand would've fit inside, but I looked down to see the bulge in my pants, indicating something was in there with me.

"You're mine now, right?" The voice giggled as the hand started squeezing, pulling gently up and down.

"Uh...uh-huh," I said, staring at the denim pumping in and out as my toes were once again lifted from the ground.

"That's a good boy," She purred. "So you don't really need to know--you just need to trust me. You do trust me, don't you?" On all cylinders, I probably wasn't totally sure of the answer to that, but given the circumstances, there really was only ONE possible answer. I nodded vigorously. "Gooood."

I hovered in front of my dresser, watching as my cologne bottle hovered up into the air and spritzed a touch on both my wrists. One of my drawers opened up, and a sleeveless undershirt floated out, taking my shape. Behind me, my favorite dress shirt--fitted, with black buttons and sharp grey microstripes--bounded out of my closet and unbuttoned.

"Really--dressing me up, aren't you?" I managed, even as the hand beneath my boxers continued its work.

"Maximizing your potential," She said. I watched as the gray turtleneck and white denim skirt outfit strutted up to my white sleeveless tee, still hanging in space. The grey sleeves wrapped around it, and the two whirled around until the turtleneck released the tee, flinging it in my direction. The filled out tee slipped right over my torso, not even waiting for me to put my arms up. It tightened around me, forcing my arms against my sides and compressing my chest, forcing a short exhale out of me.

"What are you doing?"

"I wanna explain something to you," her voice said. "The deeper we go here, you and I--the less likely it's going to be that you're even going to live a normal life again. You get that, right?" I smiled like a fool at the empty tights and shapely tee.

"Who wants normal?"

"I'm serious, babe. This isn't just some temporary fun for me--this is a bond. We're not all wired that way, but my kind is...and I want you to know that." The intangible hand in my jeans stopped moving and just squeezed.

"But--ungh--you're making me go to my neighbor's house?"

"Don't misunderstand. A bond doesn't mean you don't get to play with anyone else. I'm not like that. It just means that we share--everything. It means it's gonna be rare for you to be without me. It means leaving more and more of your usual life behind."

I thought about this, and I knew she was serious.

"Why do you gotta get me going like this and toss these big-picture important issues into the mix?" The hand gripped me tighter, squeezing in rhythm and making me moan.

"This is every bit as important as that."

"Easy for you to say," I whimpered. "Telling me things like that while I'm in this position isn't exactly fair."

"You're always in this position in one way or another," she said. "I'm just making it clearer."

"I'm yours," I said. "You know I'm yours. What are we even talking about?"

"We're talking about what comes next." My shirt unstiffened around my torso, letting me slide my arms through the sleeveless holes. "Now let's finish up--your hostess awaits."

I held my arms behind me, and my dress shirt slipped over them. I watched the buttons magically fasten themselves as the shirt tails stuffed themselves into my pants. Before I was set back down on the ground, my sneakers marched over, untying themselves properly (I never did) and lifting their tongues while I slowly slid into them.

"So...what comes next?" I asked. My shoelaces rose into the air and looped around each other, tying.

"Coffee," She said.

And with that, my pants and shoes marched me right to my door, which opened without a pause. As I started on my way over to Sheila's, I started to get nervous. Was my outfit going to be in control of my body the whole time?

"You're gonna let me walk, right?" I whispered, expecting some kind of response from my clothes or my unseen house guest. It never came. My outfit kept its pace right up to the door. When I went to raise my arm to the doorbell, my shirtsleeve tightened around it, holding it in place. I watched the button push itself in, hearing the muted tell-tale noise somewhere on the other side of the front door.

"There's our arrival," the pantyhose and lingerie said to Sheila, who was still hovering in the kitchen. "Go invite him in, and watch the look on his face when you open the door." Sheila's body turned toward the living room and began floating to the door.

"You're serious? I can't answer the door like this," She looked down at her chest, bouncing freely, nipples visible behind the tight, shiny red top. "I don't even have a bra on!"

"Don't worry, I gotcha girls!" The tube top said, squeezing her tits. She looked down at the apparent invisible hands palming her breasts, sinking into her flesh and pinching her nipples before disappearing again. Now, though, her chest was perking, as though unaffected by gravity. Her stimulated nipples poked out even more visibly now, standing erect straight in front of her.

"Awww no, I--"

"Hush," the pantyhose's whisper came into her ear, even though the outfit wasn't even in the same room. "You're a goddess--understand? Behind this door is your worshipper."

Sheila scrunched her face at those words, and was met by soft lips against her own. Unable to resist the sensation, Sheila kissed the invisible mouth back, closing her eyes as a juicy tongue parted her lips.

"All you have to do is trust me, Sheila," The voice whispered again as she was kissed deeply by the unseen presence. The tongue mingled with her own, sweet and soft like peach pie. Any tension she felt from her impending guest melted away. "That's wonderful," the voice said. "Exactly what I was looking for." A soft giggle rang in her ears. "It only gets better from here, baby--so just accept my gifts and be your lovely self. The rest will fall into place."

"Maybe she's not here," I muttered under my breath, mildly relieved. Right after I said it, I felt a hand squeeze around me gently, straightening my stance as I arched my back in surprise. My outfit held me up, puffing out my chest as if it were presenting me like a model.

Before I had any chance to react or protest, the door clicked open. Behind it stood a woman I barely recognized as my neighbor.

Her curly black hair framed her gorgeous face, her eyes glowing a topaz-brown. Her lips were a glossy and plump red, their lusciousness matched by the shiny lamé tube top displaying her bulging chest. I tried not to stare, but between the skintight white leggings, the lipstick heels and the matching red top unabashedly showing off her body, I couldn't resist.

I'd always seen Sheila in nice clothes, but they were more suited to work. This outfit was suited to anything but.  

"Bryan!" She smiled, looking a bit nervous. "Uh--how've you been?"

There was something off here. She seemed happy enough to see me, but I had a feeling like I was interrupting something.

"I'm...great," I stammered, straining to keep my eyes from wandering too obviously up and down her body. "You--you look fantastic." I couldn't help but grin. "Did I catch you leaving for somewhere?" Sheila looked down at herself, apparently getting a bit self-conscious about her outfit.

"It's--it's gonna sound silly, but I was just cleanin' out my overstuffed wardrobe--seeing what still fits." Right then, she seemed to abruptly shift a bit, reaching her hands behind her and resting them on her hips. "Uh--why don't you come in and visit a while?" She motioned me inside, and my clothes reacted immediately, walking me into her house. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, I, uh..." Didn't get this far with the invisible near-omnipotent force that compelled me to come over, I thought. Think quick. "Sheila, I dunno if you're seeing anyone right now--but I wondered if you'd want to go out to dinner or something sometime." I felt something pat my back, and I half-turned to see nothing behind me--of course. I guessed it was a pat of approval, though I didn't understand the intention here if I was supposed to "belong" to the unexplainable woman at my house next door.

"I--I'd love to," She beamed. "Really, anytime. But come in and sit down," she said, motioning to a plush leather couch. "I, uh, I just made coffee. Did you want some?" Normally I'd say no this late in the day, but I wasn't going to do anything to jar this strange momentum.

"Sure," I said. My clothes sat me down, and I watched as she turned to her kitchen in those booty-clinging leggings. She looked over her shoulder, bringing my eyes back to hers.

"How ya take it?" She smiled, almost purring the words. My underwear tighened around my crotch, invisibly gripping me as I struggled to maintain composure.

"Uhm--touch of cream," I said. Like her gorgeous skin. She nodded and walked to the kitchen while I watched her ass jiggle back and forth with each step of her glossy red heels. "You gotta cool it," I barely said once she was gone. "I know you love messing with me, but--" Even my sub-vocal murmurs stopped as something walked out of the hallway next to me. I looked over to see a green satin blouse and charcoal grey skirt, tightly filled in all the right places. My eyes bulged as the outfit hovered right over the arm of the sofa to sit on my lap, wrapping a green satin sleeve over my shoulder. The weight of the skirt pressed down against me--not uncomfortably, but with enough force to keep my lesser mind stimulated.

I couldn't believe all this. My anatomy obviously had no problem with anything that was happening right now, but my head was swimming. I wasn't ready for my neighbor to come back in here and find her work clothes snuggling up with me.

I knew it was a bad idea to try and dump the outfit off my lap, and there was a question of whether my own clothes would even let me try. Speaking aloud to it wouldn't be too brilliant either, being that Sheila was a room away.

I knew she could come back anytime. As I tensed up, conflicted by the wonderful scent and shape of Sheila's body invading my senses, the satin sleeve pulled at my neck, bringing me in toward its collar and planting a kiss on my lips. Its invisible hips wiggled back and forth on my lap as I felt fingers pressed against my head, pulling me closer. I expected Sheila to walk in right at this insane moment, opening my eyes and seeing only the back of the collar as my mouth was forced open by an unseen kisser.

It didn't feel like my magical charge next door--it didn't taste like she did. No...there was a hunger here that didn't compare, an aggression that fed right into my animal urges and made me want to let loose with this outfit of Sheila's--but I resisted.

The mouth let me go, and the sleeve released me. The sexy green blouse leaned back, and invisible hands at the end of the sleeves massaged my chest for a moment before the weight of the shapely butt disappeared from my lap.

The fabric, however, didn't. The whole outfit collapsed right over my legs and my tented pants just as I heard a spoon clinging against porcelain. When the play of light from the kitchen shifted, I panicked, sticking the blouse and skirt between me and the arm of the sofa. I didn't know what else to do.

In the kitchen, Sheila bit down on her lip, watching a hovering spoon stir the drop of cream into her neighbor's coffee. Her toes were just barely touching the ground, the rest of her weight taken off the ground by magical force. Invisible fingers traced and played over the round butt of her leggings as her chest was massaged and teased like before.

When the two cups hovered in front of her, she looked over at the lingerie outfit sitting at her kitchen table, scowling at it. The bra seemed to shake with silent laughter as she was placed entirely back on the ground again. She could feel herself slowly soaking into the crotch of her boyshorts, and she looked down to make sure it wasn't showing.

She took a deep breath and grabbed the coffee cups, trying to take sex off her mind as she returned to the living room. Immediately, she noticed how uneasy her guest looked.

"Here's your coffee," Sheila smiled, handing over his cup and placing a coaster from the coffee table in front of him. She walked to the other side and had a seat, looking over as he sipped. "Good?"

"Great! Thanks, Sheila." I could feel the heat welling up in me. I had this woman's outfit right next to me. If I shifted too far or stood up, what would she say? She'd know that she didn't leave it here on the couch.

"You know how long we been living next to each other?" Sheila asked. "Why didn't you stop by sooner?"

"I don't know," I said sheepishly. "Neighborhoods aren't as social as they used to be, I guess, and some people like their privacy. You always seemed pretty busy, anyway. I didn't want to bug you and be that guy you're living next to, you know?"

She looked like she was thinking about something for a few moments, and then she snapped out of it.

"Well, you're not bugging me at all. Wished I'd built up the spirit to come over and introduce myself to you, actually." She returned to that pensive look again, and finally turned to me. "Are you seeing anyone else, Bryan?"

Its not in my nature to play a woman, but what was I supposed to answer here? My oh-so-talented friend at home was clearly watching me even here...but then, she's the one who sent me over. I felt that pat on my back when I asked Sheila out. We even discussed my confusion over being sent here before I even left!

But lord, spending a second too long waiting to answer this question... Seeing? Someone?

"You know--I'm pretty confused on that whole situation, to be honest with you."

"Uh-huh..." She answered, raising an eyebrow at me. "And does that whole situation know you're asking me out?" It wasn't disapproval, really. She seemed to be playing with me.

"In your position, I dunno if I'd believe a 'yes' to that question." She let out a single, sharp laugh.

"Yeah, I dunno either," she chuckled. "You wanna tell me more?" I thought the blouse and skirt crumpled between me and the arm of her sofa was going to burn right through my leg. Why would she set me up like this just to embarrass me in front of this woman?

"Lord, Sheila--there's sooo much you wouldn't believe about it," I laughed, slumping. Sheila looked nervously at her kitchen doorway and shrugged.

"Probably more open-minded than you think, Bry...but really, I don't wanna make you uncomfortable. Just seems like a fair topic of conversation if you're gonna ask me out. We ain't really eighteen, you know?" I sighed. If this was a test of my nobility, I might as well try and pass, no matter how uncomfortable.

"I've got a friend--I wouldn't call her a friend, but...you know, I don't even know how to put it. She's--I mean, to me, she's..." How to put this... "I don't really know where she's coming from in terms of what a relationship is. You know? What it is to her?"

"You know, I think I do get you," Sheila said.

Wait, she does?

"Lemme guess--she's young. Younger than we are, at least." I nodded my head. Pretty dead on. "She likes playin? Messing with your head?"

"Sort of," I said, "But not in the usual way--like not like you'd expect."

"Like how?" Sheila asked.

"Like in the way she talks about commitment, like how we're together, but how she--encourages me to...well, like you asked--does she know I'm asking another woman out? Yes. She does. She was actually pushing me on it." Sheila sipped her coffee coolly, and I wondered for a second if I'd messed up.

"You know, on any other day I'd probably have called you crazy by now," Sheila said without looking at me. "She's at your house right-this-moment, isn't she?" Cold sweat.

"I--"

"I ain't a stalker, but I was at my kitchen window when you came home. She's the pretty thing that walked in with you, isn't she?"

"Well...yeah."

"Kinda figures," she said. "You're cute, Bryan, but--" Sheila stopped dead when she put her mug down on a coaster and knocked it over. "Oh, lord..."

I didn't even think about it--I jumped up. I jumped off the couch to help, leaving the skirt and blouse right there in plain sight. I wasn't even considering what would happen.

"Paper towels? Dishrag?" I asked, backing toward the kitchen. Sheila glanced down at the couch--right where the limp business casual outfit laid--and then up at me, waving her hands.

"NO!" She said. I stopped, and she nervously laughed. "I--I don't want you to see my kitchen, Bryan--it's an embarrassing mess. Just stay put, I'll handle--"

A dishrag floated between the two of us, bobbing in space. It was followed by a roll of paper towels, a spray bottle of glass cleaner and an aerosol can of carpet cleaner.

"You can both relax," A voice from the kitchen said. "I'll handle it."

We only stood staring at each other, looking over to the cleaning products taking care of the spill on their own, then to each other again. We both simultaneously started saying something at least half a dozen times, Whose- You- Don't- I- She-, and so on, both of us tripping over our words. Suddenly, a lingerie set and stockings came sauntering out of the kitchen, invisibly filled to Sheila's shape. Maybe beyond it.

"You're both so adorable--do you know that?" The outfit asked, strutting by us and toward the near side of the couch. "Come on, honey, you don't have to stay crumpled up there. We've had our fun messing with them." Sheila's skirt and satin blouse fluttered into the air, inflating themselves with shapely curves and hugging the lingerie set. Sheila and I kept exchanging double takes, each expecting the other to bolt out the door.

When we didn't, we finally synched at:

"Did you know about this?!"

Both outfits laughed audibly now, joined by more laughter coming from Sheila's direction, though she herself wasn't laughing.

"Oh, I didn't think that would be so much fun, but it really was," The lingerie outfit sighed, walking up to me. "Almost as good as the day I met you." Sheila stared down the hovering clothes.

"How do you know him?" She asked. Behind Sheila's shoulder, the front door opened, and there she stood, looking solid as either of us, grinning with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

"We met a while ago," The girl at the door answered, walking in. "Hope you don't mind me inviting myself over, but I'm kinda already over here, in a sense."

Sheila looked back at the lingerie and pantyhose, lying in a heap on the floor. Her blouse and skirt outfit held its shape.

"That--she was you?" Sheila asked. The girl nodded, chuckling.

"Didn't I tell ya you didn't have to worry about me?" She let go of the duffel, which hovered over to an empty chair and unzipped. "How'd I do? Pretty good people skills, don't you think?" She kissed me on the cheek and stood in front of Sheila, holding out her hand.

"You don't have to fight me for him," she said. "I wanna share. That's why we're here." Sheila carefully shook her hand. "I'm not gonna bite," the girl laughed.

"But--who are you?"

"Anissa," She said, walking over to the green blouse and holding up her arms. The blouse sleeves rose up to meet her, and the two twirled a couple short dance steps with Anissa's fingers apparently intertwined with those of invisible hands.

"No, I mean," Sheila motioned to the outfit dancing around the room with the girl. "Who are you? How did you do all this?"

"We've got a lot to talk about, Sheila--but not in front of simpler minds," She laughed, looking at me.

"Hey..." I said, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Some of this info is just for us girls, Bryan. Don't feel bad."

"So all my clothes playing around with me--that was just you?"

"No way, sugar," Came a voice from Sheila's chest as her tube top bounced her tits. "We're your clothes, honey--she just made us a bit more proactive."  I found myself staring at Sheila's chest as she did her best to hold on to it.

"What do you think, Bry?"

"Uh...about what?" I barely managed to peel my eyes off of Sheila's upper half to respond.

"Our new arrangement. You get the company of another solid...we get a lovely apprentice and confidante."

"Hold up now," Sheila said. "I didn't agree to anything. Y'all just started makin' my clothes walk and talk, I went along. Now we're talking about arrangements?"

"I saw you playing with those walking, talking clothes of yours," Anissa said, smiling. "You're bored of your job, Sheila. You've got nothing holding you here except that it's the path of least resistance. Maybe if I hadn't entered the scene, you and this guy would've found each other eventually..."

I jumped at a pinch on my butt even though Anissa was nowhere near me.

"...but he's coming to our place now." She looked Sheila square in the eyes. "So--you and all your things are welcome to join in on that adventure, and meet my friends, and get to know Bryan, and who knows what else--or you can stay here, and maybe he'll write sometime."

"Hey now," I said, "That's not r--" A green satin sleeve shot under my jaw, and an invisible hand squeezed my cheeks and turned me to face the blouse's collar. Before I could say anything else, the invisible lips and tongue were invading my senses again, making me melt as the other satin sleeve wrapped around my back.

Sheila watched wide-eyed as her work outfit silenced me with its unseen talents. The blouse wouldn't let go.

"Are...are his clothes like that?" Sheila asked, turning to Anissa. The younger woman smiled.

"I guess you won't know unless you accept my invitation," Anissa said coyly, disappearing in her leggings and shirt and leaving them standing all on their own.

"I don't--" Sheila froze as the once-occupied white tee and pink leggings sauntered up to her, standing right against her body. If Anissa was simply invisible, they'd have bumped heads.

"Oh, I think you do..." A quiet whisper said into her ear, "'Cuz I think after what you've seen today, you know this just gets better and better." Sheila stared at the outfit softly holding me hostage. Her eyes were momentarily diverted to the lifeless lingerie set as her bra and panties lifted themselves off the ground. The stockings carefully stood, wobbly and flaccid for a moment until shapely legs filled them again.

"We wanna go," said her own voice, matter-of-fact, "even if she doesn't." Sheila shook her head, but thought better of getting indignant.

"Well, I guess--what choice do I have anyway?" She shrugged, backing away from Anissa's empty outfit. "Doesn't much look like he's got one," She motioned to her blouse and skirt, both its sleeves now reaching around me and grabbing my butt. At present, I was nothing but a swaying tower of male putty.

"No," Anissa said. "I won't take you like that." Now the lingerie outfit and the white tee and pink tights came together, round curves moving under invisible touch as soft sounds came from Sheila's lingerie. "I want you to know that you can say no to me, and I'll take it as your answer..."

The groping escalated between the two outfits as Sheila watched the cups of her lacy bra pressed together and lifted by invisible hands. The body inside the pink tights and tee swelled a bit before hand-and-finger-shaped impressions buried themselves in the inflated curves, kneading them.

Sheila shuddered a bit as her own glossy red top tightened around her, her tits massaged in slow, subtle circles as the fabric pushed and tightened around her nipples.

"But you're not gonna do that, are you?" Anissa asked. Sheila shook her head.

"Uh-uh," she sighed. "But you gotta know that asking that while this is happening..."

"Oh, not fair--is it?" Anissa laughed. "I think you'll get over it."

"So..." Sheila let out a pleased groan. "If I accept--how long should I expect to be gone? What do I tell..."  

My lips still locked with those of an unseen force, I was turned to watch Sheila--who was quieted by increasing attention at her chest. She looked down to see invisible hands buried in the curvature of the tight tube top, massaging her more aggressively. When she let out a moan, my own biology responded with a hardening pulse.

Getting taken advantage of by this strange feminine energy was one thing--but watching it happen to another flesh and blood woman as well? Forget it. It was clear that neither of us had a chance.

"I'm not gonna cage you, honey," Anissa said, her clothes standing in front of Sheila as if they were watching her squirm. "You and boy-toy won't even be too far from here. Bryan's seen my place before--it's just a quick ride away."

Sheila looked over at me, and I suddenly became self-conscious of my open mouth, facing her as I made out with empty space. But I didn't break from my assailant, and Sheila seemed completely content to watch, narrowing her eyes and showing me a slight smile--a smile that seemed full of anticipation and wandering thoughts.

"How come you--" Sheila giggled as two more invisible hands on the seat of the white leggings grasped her booty. "--wanna take us away, then?"

"Privacy...space...more possibilities," Anissa said. "This side of the neighborhood isn't quite ready for our kind yet--and we're not quite ready for big-time publicity."

"Your kind?" Sheila asked.

"Like us, sugar," Sheila's lingerie responded.

"Mmm," Sheila groaned. "So you're talking about long-term...but we can come back anytime? I can...visit friends? I can see the city?"

"You can do anything you want, cutie," Anissa said. "With degrees of freedom you never thought possible."

"I still don't understand...whadda you get out of all this?"

"I get this..." Sheila felt a hard slap on her ass as Anissa chuckled. "I get this," Sheila's blouse gripped me tighter as we both sailed off the ground. Sheila looked up at me in awe, then back at Anissa's empty outfit. "And--I get all of these."

Sheila's bedroom door squeaked open, and a line of her outfits marched out the hall and into the living room, mumbling, chatting and laughing--much of the conversation centering on finally getting to stretch out and have some fun.

Between my lack of gravity and her parade of walking, talking clothes, Sheila now realized that she had no gauge of what was possible for something--someone like Anissa.