It’s been about a week since my socks and other articles of clothing came to life because of those mail order socks. It weirded me out at first--but it didn’t take me long to get used to the idea of sensual attention from every piece of my wardrobe, whether I was wearing it or not.

I don’t know how the socks spread their ability to come to life to the rest of my closet so quickly, but it’s been...fantastic. They still get pushy, but I’ve come to trust them more as I’ve seen more of what they can do. In fact, even that first morning facing down a whole outfit for the first time--I wasn’t scared. Maybe it was their demeanor. The whole thing was very exploratory that first time.

“Wh--what are you doing here?” I asked, watching the outfit toss the ball into the mitt and take it out again.

It didn’t answer, but the mitt floated off my filled out batting glove and sailed into the air on its own. my leather batting gloves remained at the end of the ghostly sleeves, and the one holding the ball threw it fast, well out of the path of the mitt.

“Hey, what are you doing?!” I shouted. The mitt moved itself in front of the path of the ball at light speed, the hardball making a thud noise as it hit the conditioned leather. I chuckled as a realized nothing in my house was broken. It still made me nervous seeing these things hovering around by themselves, but after my fun with the socks last night…

“Heh...that’s a pretty neat trick,” I said nervously. “Your packaging wasn’t kidding about making me perform better, was it?” I looked at the socks in the filled out uniform, admiring the shape inside of the uniform and wondering if it was actually my own--or something a bit more exaggerated. “So...what other tricks can you do?”

The uniform turned around and bent over, wiggling a tight ass inside my baseball pants. I blushed a little, wondering if this was going to go the same direction as the night before. I think I wanted it to.

“That’s cute,” I laughed. The swaying butt suddenly slowed and pointed at right at my staring face. It slowly hovered closer and closer--and just as I was about to reach out and touch it, it scooted away. “Hey…” I chuckled.

The uniform moved away, swaying across the room and turning around. One of the batting gloves held up a single leather finger at my bed, and my sheets and blankets slid away on their own, revealing my half-erect morning wood. I looked down and blushed.

“You gonna show me how you hold a bat?” I asked, proud of my silly innuendo. It wasn’t hard to be flirty with an empty outfit, especially when it was my own.

The white leather batting gloves detached from the outfit, and one of them reached for my dick, grabbing hold and squeezing. I let out a moan as the glove gently tugged, pulling me forward by the cock. The other white glove put its hand behind me, rubbing my bare butt with cool leather fingers before giving my cheek a stinging SLAP!

“Hey!” I jumped forward, and both white gloves prodded me to the edge of the bed--one from in front, the other from behind. When I dropped one of my legs to the floor, the glove behind me ran up my back and started playing with my hair. I dropped my other leg, and now I was sitting on the edge of my bed, hard as a rail--staring at the mirror mounted on my door.

My own batting glove was wrapped tightly around my cock, the ghostly hand stroking me just as hard as I wanted it. The other tousling my hair was heaven.  Before I knew it, the uniform shifted back, dancing its ass closer and closer again.

I was watching all of this in the mirror until the glove in my hair grabbed it and pushed my head forward. Now all I could see was the ass of the baseball pants were being danced against me, and the glove was holding me there, forcing my nose right between the tight cheeks of my enchanted uniform!

I encouraged them--teased them--and they delivered. They took things to the next level. Now I was completely hard, praying that this insane supernatural gift was going to guide me well through to orgasm yet again. I wasn’t about to be disappointed.

The butt of my baseball pants slowly danced against my face, making me sway back and forth with it. I’d washed it recently, but I could still detect the faint scent of my sweat in the pants. I was hard as a rock, still being stroked off by an articulate leather batting glove.

Suddenly the glove and the pants moved away for a second, and the whole outfit moved lower sticking its ass out and riding it against my cock.

Can I tell you that I didn’t know exactly how to react? Sure, the gloves and I had our thing the night before, but some part of me really thought it was still a dream--especially when I was woken up by my living baseball uniform.

The reglan-sleeved shirt and the leather gloves waved rhythmically in the air as the cleft of the ass held my cock, ramming against it and making it harder. These things were really getting down; like the socks, they didn’t seem to hold back--and this time, I didn’t want them to.

Getting bolder with the clothes, I reached out and rubbed the back of the reglan as the butt of the baseball pants continued pushing itself against my cock. I reached higher, leaning against the outfit more and moving my hips against the soft white pants, driving my hard dick against their firm butt. Now I reached up to the shoulders of the shirt, grabbing it firmly and feeling tight muscles inside the emptiness.

The bent-over outfit let me put more and more of my weight against it, seeming to revel in my grip. I swore the shoulders and back got broader even as the waist tapered and tightened, and now I wrapped my arms around the shirt, nuzzling the back of the empty collar.

It was unreal. I could see down inside the thing--actually pass in front of the neck and never meet anything, but behind the shirt my fingertips felt a tight, rippling form. I could see down inside the shirt. I could see the imprints my fingers were making in the fabric from the outside, and although I couldn’t see anything inside the shirt, I could feel everything from the outside..

The ass of the baseball pants inflated now, each cheek swallowing up my cock a little bit from the sides. I gasped at the soft sensation, half-surrounded by a tight cotton ass as I rocked and shook against it, grabbing it tighter.

I realized I was practically draped over the outfit now--it was nearly carrying my weight. A strange, animalistic desire to take control came over me, and I grabbed the outfit around its midsection in both my arms and threw it down onto the bed beneath me. It responded by rising up to meet me, rubbing its fabric against my body. The legs of my baseball pants wrapped themselves around my back, as I faced down my baseball uniform laying on its back on my bed.

I rubbed my face against the nicely-cut fabric chest of the uniform, and I felt a sleeve wrap itself behind my head, pulling me in deeper. I started to grind against the crotch of the pants, and they responded back. The fabric circled up, rising up and expanding on either side my my cock in order to form a hollow sleeve that I could fuck.

The legs of my baseball pants tightened up around me, gripping me, as I started to slowly fuck the form the pants made around my cock. The sleeves pulled me in tight to the shirt, and I could feel my chest press against the hot muscled body inside my baseball shirt. I let out a short moan when I felt the soft leather of my batting gloves grip my ass and squeeze me, pulling my cock into them more.

I let out a low laugh. Not only could I trust this force--it could do things that bent the laws of physics, all in the interest of serving my senses. I had no reason to hold back now. I grinned and reached lower, holding the outfit’s own backside and clinching my fingers tighter than I’d ever dare on human flesh. The outfit seemed to love this, and it showed me by wiggling its ass back and forth, swinging my cock around inside it as I moaned louder.

Now I was hammering my uniform, and suddenly its legs wrapped around me, locking my own against them. We were a tangle of forms--hollow, leather hands gripping flesh and soft cottony hips swinging against my own. The powerful legs tensed up--and even though I was the one inside them--I could tell they were about to take me for a ride.

I didn’t quite expect the kind of ride that started happening. In a fury of bucking, working my body against the tight outfit and feeling its muscled arms tighten around me through its sleeves--I had a falling sensation for just a moment. The outfit began rising off my bed, hovering into the air as I rode against it. I bellowed laughter as my legs hung down either side of the form, both of us straddling each other into the air. There was a tingling happening with me and the outfit--some kind of odd spark that I couldn’t really see. I felt it, though--and it felt like it was spreading.

“Wh--what’s happening?” I moaned, not entirely expecting an answer before I came inside this gorgeous phantom. In fact, I could feel exactly what was happening. Whatever power source allowed these things to carry kinetic energy, will, intelligence--if it’s as it seems--it was being charged by what we were doing.

It was being charged by me. The instructions I failed to read flashed through my head once more, and I wondered exactly what the implications were here. If I was right about what I was feeling--I was only making them more powerful...and I didn’t exactly dislike that idea.

I sat up, bouncing against the outfit and squeezing the tight pecs. I could feel myself building deeper and deeper--my cock crying out for release against the soft cotton massaging it. All around my room, drawers began to slide out. Closet doors folded open. As I fucked my uniform harder and harder, a thick energy began to pulse through the room.

My clothes started rising out of their drawers, inflating to the rhythm of our swinging hips, dancing against each other in the thin air. Before long, we were surrounded by a chorus of dress socks and athletic socks, pairing up with tight khakis, tailored dress pants and skinny jeans. My folded tees sprang out of their drawers and hovered into the air, filling out and coming to rest above the jeans or drifting around the room and filling to admirable, statuesque shapes.

“More…” I moaned, laughing as I coiled around the baseball uniform. “Give me more...give me everything!” The fabric tube sheathing my cock tightened intensely, making me cry out in pleasure. It was like my baseball pants were sucking my dick, and now I started moving in and out with long, slow strokes that lit me up from root to tip. The reglan and gloves puffed, growing more muscular just before the pants did the same. The cotton ass inflated in my hands again as the hardened thighs tensed.

I screamed a primal, orgasmic scream, lost in sensations I didn’t know were possible. Sight really wasn’t a focal point at the moment--none of my normal senses really were--but something (maybe that chemical?) gave me some strange awareness that every-single-item of clothing I had was out in my bedroom, crowding around and bearing witness to the event that brought nearly all of them to life.

A massive sustain of orgasmic energy was all it took to spread the effects of what the directions called the “unmitigated form of the chemical” to my entire house.

Remember what I said when the socks first came to life and messed with me--about not knowing how I felt? Well, after a few days it became pretty clear that I liked...pretty much everything they had to offer. They can be a little mischievous at times, but their loyalty almost always trumps that in public--at least when people are looking closely.

I’ve been felt up and massaged by my shirts. I’ve had my butt grabbed by playful, pinching khakis. I’ve been and humped by my jeans and boxers and have had my socks and shoes going hog wild on my face and cock pretty much every chance they get, ever since that night.

There is never an instance when I’m alone in my apartment that I’m not touched, caressed and fondled by my clothes. It happens in public too, but never in a way that anyone can see--as if they can sense when people would be able to. I’ll be sitting in class and I’ll feel the fabric of my boxers tighten around my cock and start to rub it inside my pants, and then my socks will tighten on my feet, rubbing them, and then my shoelaces will loosen themselves, running up my legs and tickling my leg hair, or into my shoes, tickling my feet. It’s hard not to react in public, but I manage to keep it together--most of the time.

I will say though, that the best thing that’s happened is they’ve helped to improve my game. My baseball uniform controls my body for me while I’m out on the field, and it’s better than I am!  After all, it knows me quite intimately now. My gloves always seem to know exactly the right time to swing the bat, and my pants, socks and shoes seem to know exactly when I should slide or how I should move in order to avoid getting out. I just let them; it’s easier than trying to fight it. Plus, I get to look forward to after the game, in the locker room with my baseball uniform.

I’ll usually help to clean up equipment and go intentionally slow, waiting until everyone leaves in the locker room. Once we’re alone, my uniform will start undressing me without any help from my hands. Each item will remove itself, assemble next to me, and tighten to make it look like some filled out version of me is wearing it. Then my gloves will grab me and pull me into the outfit. I laugh softly, letting the outfit sweep me against a block of lockers and gently push itself against my body.

I can feel muscles inside the shirt as I rub my hands over it. I feel a hot, tight ass inside the pants as I grab their butt, and I can feel my socks playing footsie with my feet. They’re rubbing themselves up my legs, and my gloves are holding me tight against my clothes. My shoes are hovering up over the shirt, alternating back and forth in front of my face as if they’re arguing about which one gets to make me smell them. I gotta say--having sex with my baseball uniform after the game in the locker room might be the best part of my clothes coming alive. There’s something so hot about having your ultimate secret take advantage of you in a public place.

Lately, though, my eyes have been wandering. My own clothes are good to me, don’t get me wrong--but I’ve been checking out the way some of my teammates fill their uniforms and wondering what it would be like to get a hold of someone else’s clothes and introduce them to the effects of the chemical. After all, the instructions weren’t very clear about how much the clothes could spread to others in “the immediate vicinity.”

Sometimes I catch one of the new guys on the team checking me out. His name’s Mark, the third baseman that plays upfield from my spot in far left. He’s hot--from the look of his face he’s gotta be in his early twenties. I’ve passed his tall frame in the locker room, trying not to be caught looking at his shining green eyes, tan skin, and cropped brown hair.

He’s so muscular too, but not that gross overly muscled “busting-out-of-my-veins” steroid look some guys have. I’d say he has more of the toned, swimmer build body type. Nice little bubble butt inside his baseball pants that hug him in all the right places, expanding out, showing off those calf and thigh muscles built up from untold squats in the gym. I bet you can probably tell I’ve caught myself staring at him a couple times, and I think my clothes have started to get an idea of what it is I like too. I’ll catch myself staring at him and start to feel my baseball pants slowly gathering up fabric around my ass, only to feel a sharp pinch and then smooth rubbing back and forth which will be followed by my jockstrap which will start to reposition itself and manipulate its fabric as if to feel like there are someone’s fingers on the outside of it, wrapping around my hardening cock. I look down, expecting to see someone’s actual hand there, but all I see is my jockstrap wiggling inside my baseball pants. I try to calm down pretty fast and stop looking at him, before anyone sees my living clothing molesting me in public.

One day, out on the field, I was “warming up” – at least my clothes were – when Mark happened to walk pretty close by. I guess my clothes must have decided that this was the perfect opportunity to betray me and have a little fun. Just as he was walking behind me, I felt the fabric of my gloves opening up my hands, dropping the bat I was holding onto the ground. Naturally, my shirt pressed its fabric into my upper back while my pants held me stationary, effectively bending me over at the waist so my gloves could reach down and pick up the bat for me.

There I was, bent over right in front of him with my ass practically hanging out in the air pointed right at him as he walked by. My pants then decided it would be the perfect time to play a game of grab ass. As the pants sank finger-like impressions into my ass right out in the open, I thought to myself, So help me god what will happen the next time we are alone if you do not stand me up right now...

Once they’d had their fun, my shirt pressed back into my chest, pushing me up, while my pants strongly grabbed my ass in order to swing my hips, turning me around too fast, knocking me slightly off balance and almost threw me into his arms. My socks repositioned my feet in a quick 180 degree spin to catch me from completely falling into him and there I was, face to face with Mark, who had stopped to watch my struggle with the bat.

“You need some help with anything?” he jokingly asked.

Yeah, your cock in my ass, I thought, but didn’t say that out loud.

“No, I’m good, just dropped my bat.” I said, a little too fast.

“Alright, just checking.” He said, and then turned to walk away. I regained control of my body, and as I watched him walk away, I saw him turn back a little bit to look back at me out of the corner of his eye. My pants then pressed into my thighs and butt again, forcing me into an effeminate, hip-pushed-out, knee bent stance while my gloves lazily swung the bat and put it down right in between my legs, standing it and on end and resting themselves dangerously close to my crotch. I could see he wasn’t watching where he was going -- since he was still watching me and my clothes making me stand in this ridiculous pose-- and I saw his cleat coming dangerously close to a tree root sticking out of the ground. It made contact, and just like that, he went down. Suddenly my clothing went completely slack and I almost fell to the ground as I rushed over to see if he was alright.

“You okay, buddy? That looked like a pretty bad fall,” I said

“Man, I don’t know. I think something might be wrong with my ankle,” he replied, gingerly holding his left ankle as he slowly sat up. I couldn’t help but notice his tousled hair and now dirtied face which had been smudged by the ground as he fell. My jockstrap’s fabric tightened around my cock, feeling my growing reaction to seeing Mark so helpless and having him so close to me.

“Well, let’s get you somewhere so that we can take a look,” I said, ignoring my clothing’s attention as I bent down to grab his arm and slung it over my shoulder. I struggled at first slightly to help him stand up but my pants and shirt, sensing I was in trouble, took over helping him stand up and walked us both back inside to the locker room, supporting his weight against the strength of my living fabric hugging tightly against my body. I could feel them wiggling around on me, and I really hoped he wasn’t noticing as they weren’t being shy about their actions at all. All the way down the hallway leading to the locker rooms the shirt’s fabric kept poking and prodding into my chest, running invisible fabric fingers over my abs and hugging me tightly. My pants, not to be outdone had gripped my ass tightly and were pressing their fabric into me, holding me tight as we both walked towards the locker room. My jockstrap had wrapped its fabric completely around my hard cock in an iron grip so that it wouldn’t stick out of my pants. Once inside, we approached a bench by our lockers and I helped him sit down, propping his leg up onto the bench.

“Can I get you anything? Ice? Water?” I asked.

“No, It’ll be alright I’m sure. It’s probably just a sprain. I just need to sit for a minute and take the weight off,” he replied.

It was at this point that I began to feel that awkward silence feeling. Here I was, sitting next to what I considered to be one of the hottest guys on the team, and we were all alone. I had no idea what to do next. I knew I wanted to do something, but...I didn’t want to scare him off, or make him upset with me.

As we sat there, his back to me facing his outstretched leg, I contemplated what to do and how I could possibly make any kind of move on this guy. I didn’t want to take advantage of him while he was hurt, but this might be my only chance to ever make anything happen between us, if he was even into that. It was then that I felt fabric grip my thigh. I looked down to see a hand imprint form on the outside of my thigh. My baseball pants were forming a hand out of their fabric that was pressing into me. I felt like they were trying to tell me something. In fact, I know they were, but I just couldn’t figure out what they were trying to tell me. Just then I felt a new sensation, only to see the hand imprint moving its fingers up and down my thigh. I looked over to Mark to see if he saw my pants moving on their own, but he was still lost in his own little hurt ankle world. I made a “what?” motion with my arms, raising my shoulders to emphasize the point.

My glove tightened up on my hand and lifted itself up off the bench I had been grabbing. It then rested itself on my thigh and started gripping and rubbing my thigh up and down, much like the pants hand initially motioned. Then they lifted up again and made a fist and pointed my index finger to Mark.

I mouthed, “what!?” to my glove, and it pointed itself at my chest, went down to my thigh and rubbed it quickly, and then lifted up again into the air to point a finger at Mark. It was like they were telling me they wanted me to rub Mark’s thigh.

I shook my head back and forth to signify that I was saying no. “I couldn’t do that to him, he doesn’t even like guys!” I thought to myself. Then, I heard and then saw the velcro wrist strap of my glove coming undone, lifting up by itself and felt the leather loosen up on my hand. I looked down at it, only to see it start to slide off my hand. I tried to grab at the strap with my other gloved hand and hold it down on me, but my glove stopped my hand mid-air and the other glove effortlessly off of my hand and rose up in front of me. The empty leather glove waved at me and then made a grabbing motion with its fingers and then pointed at Mark. He was still sitting on the bench with his leg outstretched, back to me, completely unaware of my horny clothing trying to get me to do things to him -- or trying to do things to him themselves which I decided I could not let happen. I tried to grab at my glove with my now bare hand but it easily flew away from my grasp, making a “no-no” motion with its index finger back at me. The glove stopped and then turned in mid-air, pointing towards him, and started to float over to his shoulder quickly wiggling its fingers as if it was excited with anticipation.

I froze in panic. Every muscle inside of me tensed up and I swung my hand quickly to try and grab my advancing glove away from Mark but my other glove stopped me from moving my arm any further and held me in place, grabbing the bench again and not letting go while my shirt sleeve tightened back up on my arm and held it back tight against my chest. I couldn’t move, no matter how much I tried to fight it. I was helpless to watch my advancing, living glove hover towards Mark as it wiggled its horny, empty fingers in excited anticipation.

What are my clothes doing? I thought. They’re going to get me assaulted by this guy for feeling him up! The only thing I could do was watch it happen, as it was now useless to fight them. My glove made contact with Mark’s shoulder and started to rub its fingers along the top. He jumped a little as my glove made contact, but then relaxed.

“Man, that feels good,” He said, surprising the hell out of me. He must’ve known I was right behind him. I could feel his body heat. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a massage.”

I couldn’t believe what I heard. Far from pulling back or getting weirded out--he relaxed now and took a deep breath...almost as if he was relieved.

“Do...do you want one?” I asked, watching my glove as it traced its fingers lightly against his skin. I watched him getting goosebumps from my glove’s touch, and watched as the glove pressed its whole hollow palm down against his shoulder, grabbing, kneading, pulling his skin and massaging his outwardly tense shoulder muscles.

“Yeah, if you’re offering...” He said as he stretched out onto the double bench, lying on his back. Pretty fast, I might add. “But start with my feet.” He said. “Just be careful with the ankle.”

Not even asking me to at this point...Mark was actually telling me to massage him. His feet, no less. I tried not to appear too giddy, but I also didn’t want it to be all business. I think we were both pretty clear at this point--but as a matter of course...

“No problem.” I said, trying to act nonchalant as the glove that had been kneading his shoulder flew back onto my hand with lightning speed. I felt myself being pulled up by my shirt, and walked down over to where Mark’s feet now lay on the bench. I straddled the bench, facing his feet and my gloves moved my hands over to his shoes, untying his cleats. They removed them slowly so as not to bump his ankle. Once they were off, I was able to really get a good look at his socked feet. Man, where did this guy come from? He had to know how nice his feet were. I glanced inside the cleat to see his foot size, and was surprised to see that he was a size 13. His second toe was almost as long as his big toe, and he had a nice, medium arch to his foot. I grabbed it and started to rub it. Well, my gloves did, but I would have done it just as fast as them if they hadn’t been on my hands.

“Mmmmm…man that feels good.” Mark moaned as he lay there with his eyes closed. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better, I felt something stirring at my waist. I looked down to see my baseball pants unbutton and unzip themselves. I couldn’t stop them even if I wanted to. I had to follow through with the other to keep things natural.

I didn’t know how I’d explain any of this if Mark saw, but at the moment, I didn’t care. My pants and socks lifted me off the bench just slightly, allowing my pants to swoop off and leave me in my baseball shirt, socks, and jockstrap. The gloves on my hands hadn’t let me stop rubbing Mark’s socked feet.

I felt my own socks start to slide down my legs by themselves. If Mark opened his eyes right now, he’d see my baseball pants standing by themselves a few steps away from him and my socks slithering off my feet. One sock hopped up onto the bench and walked over to my crotch, starting to rub itself on my jock, while the other jumped up onto the bench, very close to Mark’s foot. Dodging forward, my sock hovered up in the air, hovering slowly up towards Mark’s face wiggling phantom toes, eerily reminiscent of my glove moving by itself towards him earlier!

“What is it doing?” I thought to myself. It can’t be going up there to make him smell it? Mark’s not into that! As if to confirm my fears, it hovered just above his face, and then pressed down onto it. To my utter surprise and shock, Mark moaned, grabbed the foot part of my sock and pressed it into his face. It must have been making sure that it felt like someone was wearing it, because Mark didn’t seem to question why I’m down at his feet, and my foot is up by his face, but he was definitely into it. I can’t believe it. There I was searching for another guy into the same stuff I am for the longest time, and my clothes find him instead.

“Oh Trevor, this is so fucking hot. Don’t stop.” He said, as he kept smelling and rubbing my living sock with his eyes closed. I really hope he keeps them closed, because it would just be too awkward trying to explain to him what was going on, or why.

Just then, one of my gloves decided to take itself off, and it flew up to Mark’s crotch, and started to massage his cock through his baseball pants. As long as I only continued to use one hand to massage his socked feet, and not two, all would be well, or so I thought. Mark started humping against my baseball glove rubbing his cock through his pants, and I was really starting to get into this, watching my baseball uniform work him over. I had to have his feet in my face, so I pushed my face into his socks. Man, they smelled so amazing! Just the right amount of sweat and leather from his cleats.

Without thinking, I brought my other hand up to grab his other foot and press them both into my face.

Three hands at once (my two on his socks, and one of my gloves working his cock) must have been quite a shock, as he opened his eyes in a flash to look and see what was going on. He looked slightly bewildered, like he couldn’t really believe what was happening (much like me the first time), but then his eyes got real wide, and he started to back away from everything.

“Whoa! Holy Fuck! What the hell is going on here!?” he shouted, scared. He slapped away my sock from his face and batted away my glove from his crotch, sliding away from me down the bench.

“Mark, I know this must be a shock to see, but it’s OK. Everything’s alright and nothing’s going to hurt you,” I said to him.

My sock tried to walk over to him, but he must have been scared because he backed up right off the bench, standing up with his back to the lockers. My glove flew back over to him and tried to grab his cock again, but he slapped it away, his eyes wide open with fear. He looked like he was about to escape.

“Dude, get it off! Make this shit stop!” He yelled at me. Just then my shirt took itself off me, and flew over to him faster than I’d ever seen any of them move. It flattened itself in order to fit between him and the lockers and then once it was behind him it puffed back out, grabbing his arms in a hold so that he couldn’t move them. Then, my baseball pants walked over to him, turned around and rubbed their ass against his crotch, grinding into him. I could see the he was still scared at what was going on.

“What the hell dude, get this stuff off me. What is this? Why does it feel like there’s someone inside of it?” He asked, struggling against my shirt.

“I think my shirt’s only holding you like that because they don’t want you to struggle against it. Trust me, it’s easier to just let them do what they want.” I responded back.

“Fuck that! I’m getting out of here!” He yelled, struggling against my clothes that were holding him in place. He continued to struggle, but my clothes had no intention of letting go – and I didn’t want them to. Now that his arms were restrained, my clothes must have felt that this might make a good opportunity to do things to him again. A glove floated slowly over to hover right in front of his chest. He stopped struggling against my shirt and pants and they quit moving too in order to see what the glove would do. The glove hovered closer, putting a leather finger on his sternum and moved it slowly up and down. It then opened up and placed its whole palm on one of his pecs, and gently squeezed and worked over his muscled chest. He simply stared down at it, watching it intently but wary of what it might do.

The other glove floated over to join its mate on his chest, and they both grabbed his chest, kneading and rubbing, digging their fingers into his muscles and giving him a world class massage. I could see a bulge rising in his pants from the attention;it appeared that he was enjoying this more than he let on. My gloves noticed this too--one of them started to move its way down south, unbuttoning and unzipping his baseball pants. It then slid itself inside his jockstrap and started to fondle and rub his growing bulge. Mark’s eyes fluttered shut. I saw his head roll back as my shirt rose and slightly inflated to support him, though still holding his arms back.

Seeing that the gloves and shirt had things under control, my own baseball pants walked back over to where I stood and fell down onto the ground, opening up their waist  and pushing at the soles of my feet. I stepped into them, watching as they slowly rose back up over my calves, up my thighs and situated themselves over my cock. They then pulled themselves the rest of the way up over my ass and zipped and buttoned themselves.

They tightened up around my rock solid cock, starting to make waving motions around it with their fabric. I watched as wave after fabric wave rolled down my shaft. I was so turned on from watching my gloves playing with Mark and now my own pants magically stroking me off that I started moving my hips with the motion, humping against  my stroking pants. It wasn’t long before they got the clue and started adding the motion in all by themselves--making my body gracefully pendulum back and forth with forced little thrusts.

I looked over to watch Mark as my baseball pants started groping my butt, tightening bands of fabric in the pants that made it look like my ass was being pawed by a strong invisible hand. He was breathing heavy, intently watching what was happening. I saw that he was also slightly bucking his hips into the glove inside his pants. I watched my gloves as they stroked, rubbed, poked and prodded. I was more and more turned on as I gazed upon him being helplessly fondled by my living gloves. His eyes lifted from my magically attentive pants and met mine. I felt a shiver as we watched each other being manipulated and pleasured by my clothes. The only sounds in the locker room were the rustle of my pants and the grinding of leather. In our labored, heavy breathing, he finally broke the silence.

“How did this happen?” He breathlessly asked. “Have your clothes...always...been like this?” He panted, starting to consciously enjoy his first hand job from a glove moving all by itself.

“Just a recent thing,” I said. “It started with these socks I received in the mail. There was some chemical on them that did this to everything. But they’ve never hurt me, and I don’t think they’d ever do anything that I didn’t like.” I  hoped that was a big enough hint that it was OK to give in. As if to confirm this, Mark gave out a loud gasp as the glove inside had gripped him tightly and started rubbing more forcefully.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” I asked him.

“Well…yeah...it does.” He replied, squirming slightly under my gloves’ touch. A hint of a smile starting to form on his face. Mark opened his eyes, and focused them onto mine.

“What else are you feeling?” I managed to say just above a whisper, scared of what the answer might be.

My shirt released its hold on Mark, and he confidently stepped forward towards me, my gloves still kneading, rubbing his chest, and toying with his now very erect cock inside his baseball pants.

Mark stood before me and placed his hands on my chest. I looked down to watch him touching my skin, feeling every ridge and valley my muscles made as they tensed and responded to his touch. Teasing fingers coiling around to my backside and back around front. Fingers turned into palms feeling my chest, moving along to my shoulders, flowing down my back and pressing into my skin, pulling me closer. I looked up and saw Mark slowly moving in. His eyes closed, as much in pleasure from my gloves as the anticipation of his lips meeting mine for the first time.

His lips closed softly over mine. A rush of blood filled my face and throughout my body as I felt myself weightless under his touch. His tongue parted our lips and swam inside my mouth as I felt his hands start to roam faster across my body. He pulled back, staring into my eyes.

“Fuck, Trevor. I want you so much right now,” Mark growled as he bit his lower lip, looking down at my crotch. His hands maneuvered over to the top of my baseball pants and towards the zipper, but before he could get there we heard that familiar “pop” and we both looked down at the same time, watching my pants unbutton and then slowly unzip themselves. They pulled away from my body and exposed my jockstrap. As they unzipped, Mark’s hand slipped in right behind them, and he grabbed my cock inside my pants, looking up at me and grinning wildly as my pants loosened up to allow his fingers to wrap around my pulsating shaft.  

“They want this just as much as we do,” I said to Mark.

“Then I can’t wait to see what happens next,” he said.

As if on cue, all of our clothing began to close in on where we were. My baseball pants started to slowly walk over to us. My shirt, which had been leaning against the opposite set of lockers watching us with crossed arms stood back up slightly. It opened up its arms letting them hang loosely at its sides and hovered silently over to where we were. It came up next to me, rose up into the air above me and started to fall. I lifted my arms up to allow it to effortlessly glide onto me, and it sailed over my arms, falling down and fitting itself, holding me tightly inside its fabric. My socks and cleats walked back over to where we were, and my socks started to rub themselves against Marks’ legs, while my cleats tickled my legs with their shoelaces.

“What does it feel like?” Mark asked, watching my shirt situate itself.

“It’s strange, but...” I tried to think of a way of explaining it. “It’s like when you walk, you can normally feel your clothes’ fabric shifting, but it’s more pronounced. It’s like someone’s hugging me, but everywhere, and all at once. And like, sometimes they can move me around all on their own.”

Just then, my shirt’s fabric started to move around again, pressing into my chest and back in many different points, forming invisible hands in the fabric. Mark watched intently again as my shirt fondled me while my pants caressed and stroked my cock, and pressed invisible fingers and hands into my ass, pushing forcefully into my skin.

“Well, where do I get clothes like that? I want to feel that too,” Mark said, looking back up at me, smiling sheepishly.

Mark gasped, and looked back down at his pants, which had magically started to zip back up all by themselves.

“Whoa--what...what’s going on now?” Mark smiled. We both watched as they gripped his cock tightly, form-fitting themselves against him through the fabric, massaging it slightly. Mark’s eyes rolled back into his head, and a shudder ran through his body.

“It really happened,” I muttered. Mark looked up at me obviously looking for elaboration. “It’s the same thing that happened to the rest of my clothes, Mark--they’ve brought yours to life now too!”

“I can see why you like this so much,” he said, smiling back at me.

Just then, my gloves pulled themselves away from Mark, and both of our pants moved our hips, taking us a step closer, forcing our crotches into each other. They were moving us around against each other, making each of us grind our hard cocks into the other’s as I was pushed into Mark by my shirt. My gloved grabbed his shoulders and forced him into me. He fell forward, grabbing me in a hug and putting an arm against the lockers to brace himself in order to keep us from falling over.

We both groaned as our clothing force-humped us into each other. I could feel Mark’s cock against mine inside the fabric of his pants, still rubbing and manipulating his cock. We both grabbed each other and held each other tight, lost in the sensations of our living, horny uniforms. The fabric of each our pants had molded itself to both of our cocks, and were rubbing them against each other.

I looked across Mark’s shoulder and watched as my baseball gloves slipped themselves onto my hands, and then started to move them around on Mark’s back. Gently teasing and lightly running leather fingers over his skin.

“Is that you, or your gloves?” Mark asked.

“Both,” I whispered back into his ear. I leaned in close and licked his ear, moving down to kiss his neck and running my tongue over the rough five o'clock shadow on his chin. He moaned, grabbing me tighter, pulling me into him.

I wanted more. I wanted to taste all he had to offer.

I started to slowly work my way down his pecs, kissing and flicking my tongue over taut, tight skin. I kissed his nipples, making sure to pause long enough to run my tongue over and around on his areola. My gloves directed me, massaging and grabbing at his back. he kept grinding his cock against his pants, which out of the corner of my eye I could see were really working him over. They were pulled across his cock so tightly that I could almost see the veins sticking out.

As I made my way down, I found myself face to face with his hard, outlined cock.

“Open up,” I told them. I didn’t have to ask them twice. They promptly unbuttoned and I hungrily watched as his zipper glided itself effortlessly down its path, opening up the fabric so I could get a good look at what he had to offer. His pants pushed his ass forward and into my face as I felt his cock jump inside his jockstrap, also moving around on him.

I could feel the fabric across my skin. I rubbed my lips over the mound created by his cock inside the fabric, and I could feel his jockstrap contracting around his cock as his pants lowered themselves on his legs. His cock was now jutting straight out from his body, held in place by the fabric of his jock, which I could see was still wriggling around slightly. He bucked his hips a couple times, mimicking a fucking motion, straight towards my mouth.

“Trevor, that wasn’t me!” Mark shouted out. “My jockstrap made me do it!”

“Good thing I can follow instructions,” I said staring at it, and greedily swallowed Mark’s entire shaft encased in his living, horny jockstrap. I bobbed up and down a couple of times, feeling the fabric moving inside my mouth against Mark’s cock and feeling Mark tense up as I went down on him. As I pulled out to catch my breath, I watched as his jockstrap stretched out in front, pulled down to free his cock and slid down his legs to join his baseball pants around his ankles. I saw his baseball pants flatten out and slip out and under his feet in order to free themselves, standing up to hover by themselves in mid-air.

I looked back up to see Mark’s throbbing eight inches, bobbing right in front of my face. I hungrily sucked it down to the hilt again, and felt Mark pushing his cock into my mouth. One of my leather gloves took itself off my hand and hovered up to my hair, grabbing it and holding my head in place while the other took itself off my other hand and went back to massaging Mark’s chest. He reached up and grabbed it, intertwining his fingers with those of my glove, and holding it against his chest as it had its way with him.  

My socks that had been caressing their ghostly, hollow feet over Mark’s socked feet had floated up and stood on his shoulders, reaching up and teasing his face with wiggling toes, as he grabbed each foot and pulled them into his face. They hovered up off his shoulders and in front of his face while he grabbed each of the arches and pulled them into his face where the toes wiggled and the feet pressed into his cheeks and onto his nose.

My leather baseball glove had a strong hold of my head, and wasn’t letting me go anywhere while Mark bucked his hips into my mouth like a wild man. His baseball pants had maneuvered themselves behind Mark and a growing bulge inside of them was sliding between Mark’s ass cheeks. He reached back with one hand to hold them tight against his ass while his other hand was busy massaging my phantom socks assaulting his face.

I felt his cock tighten up inside my mouth as he fucked my mouth harder and faster. His moans only served to make everything sound even sexier than it already was. My pants were still around my waist, toying with my cock and massaging my ass with their fabric as my shirt tweaked my nipples and helped move my torso against Mark’s cock.

Just then, my baseball pants unbuttoned and unzipped, and I looked down as much as I could to see themselves sliding down my thighs, stopping at my knees as I was kneeled in front of Mark. My jockstrap followed suit, lifting itself delicately over my raging hard cock and sliding down my thighs, joining my baseball pants which were bunched up on the floor around my knees.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see movement farther down the row of lockers. A gym bag was rustling all by itself. I watched as best I could as the zipper slowly opened, and two black Nike crew socks jumped out into the air, landing on the floor. They wiggled slightly before walking over to where Mark and I were. I looked up at him to see he was lost in pleasure, eyes closed, licking and kissing my baseball socks which were madly stomping and pressing into his cheeks, mouth and nose. He was lost in ecstasy, fucking my mouth like a pro and moaning into the soft cotton of my baseball socks.

I looked back over to where the other socks had jumped out of the gym bag, but I couldn’t see them anymore. I started looking around the locker room as best I could with Mark’s cock fucking my mouth. I finally looked down to see them hovering on either side of my cock, which was jutting out into the air. They placed themselves on either side, and the soft, thick, hollow cotton started to press into my cock, wrapping invisible toes around my cock and sliding around, rubbing their arches against my shaft.

Being able to see them better, I recognized them as those of Patrick, the pitcher. He had worn them to practice today but changed out of them in order to put his uniform on. I grabbed each sock by its leg and started fucking their arches. They pushed themselves tighter against me as they could feel me get into it.

I looked back over to the gym bag only to see more clothes flying out and filling out to tight, muscular shapes. Locker doors started opening up by themselves, and more clothing flew into the locker room, filling out and embracing other clothing that was now coming to life.

Mark started to notice what was going on, but was too lost in pleasure to be too overly concerned.

“What’s going on Trevor?” He asked, his voice muffled slightly by the fabric of my socks which were pressed against his face.

I had no idea, but I didn’t care. Some of the clothing had come over to us to also play around. A pair of plaid boxers and a pair of white boxer-briefs, both showing off some impressive hardware inside along with very muscular thighs hovered over to either side of me and started humping against my sides, grinding invisible fabric crotches into my sides. Mark’s pants wrapped a leg around each of his legs from behind him, forcing him to take a few steps back, and my shirt pushed against him in order to keep my mouth firmly planted on his cock. The boxers moved away to join some other clothing while the boxer-briefs hovered back behind me, dragging their fabric against my skin on the way. I could feel the outline of its fabric cock outline rubbing itself against -- and slightly into -- my open ass.

Mark could see all this activity too when my socks allowed it, and moaned into them loudly.

“Fuck Trevor, I wanna watch you get fucked by that massive cock inside those boxer-briefs while I’m inside your mouth,” he yelled out.

Patrick’s socks were expertly working over my cock, pressing into all the right places, and holding themselves tightly against the shaft as I madly fucked their arches.

All around us, clothes were forming outfits, coming together and stroking each other, watching Mark and I and our clothes use us for their own pleasure--and ours. Leather gloves grabbed invisible, tight asses inside athletic shorts. Socks were pressed into massive cocks outlined inside jeans and track pants. Everywhere we looked it was as if an invisible, gay orgy was taking place, and the sexual tension inside the locker room was magnified a hundredfold.

Suddenly, Mark tensed up his cock. I could feel him tightening up inside my mouth.

“Trev, I’m gonna blow!” He yelled into my socks as I could feel his cock sliding quickly in and out of my mouth. Saliva was flying out of my mouth and dripping everywhere as he pounded his cock into it.

The boxer-briefs at my ass were getting into a good rhythm, and Patrick’s socks on my cock were massaging it just as I would have done myself with my hands.  

“Oh shit dude, I’m gonna cum!” He yelled, and his roar was only outdone by how forcefully his cum hit the back of my throat. My socks were not holding back anything as they rubbed into his face, wiggling invisible toes on his nose and face and stomping the hell out of it. I came at the same time, being fondled by Patrick’s socks and fucking the arches while they wiggled themselves around on my cock, form-fitting their fabric in order to please me the most and to make me shoot all the way to the bench, a good foot away.

Mark panted, looking down at me. My socks were standing on either side of his face on his shoulders, pressing their toes into him. Patrick’s socks were still fondling my cock slightly, soaking up my cum.

“That was the most amazing orgasm I’ve ever had in my life,” Mark said. “How do you ever get anything done with this around?” He asked, pointing to all the clothing assembled around us. They had stopped their sexual actions, and were all turned to face us, watching and waiting patiently.

It’s pretty hard,” I said, laughing again at my silly innuendo. I was getting good at these innuendos, I thought to myself. “But you get used to it.”

“I’d like to get used to it with you,” Mark said, pulling me up and staring into my eyes again with that piercing stare he’d perfected earlier.

“I could definitely get used to that,” I said, grinning back at him and putting my arm on his shoulder. My sock rubbed up against it while Mark reached up and grabbed my hand.

Just then, we heard our teammates in the hallway coming in from practice. All the clothes heard it too and darted back into hiding in bags and lockers. Our clothes, however, showed no signs of going away, and we were in a pretty dangerous position for two guys alone in a locker room to be in. Mark and I were still looking at each other as we heard them, and we both took a deep breath, just as we heard the locker room door swing open.