My eyes slowly opened. The sun was streaming in through the slats of my mini-blinds and the birds were chirping happily in the trees. I breathed in, satisfied and content as I stirred, feeling his body holding me tight – his arm stretched around my waist. The scent of the morning lilac trees lingered on the air lazily breezing through my window and I smiled, knowing I had another day with him – and my clothes.

I opened my eyes and saw we were still wearing our baseball uniforms from the night before. They were silent and still for the moment – the clothing not moving on its own for once. I assumed they too were sleeping. We each had on our three-quarter sleeved t-shirts, baseball pants, socks with built-in stripe, and cleats. The thought of what transpired the night before flashed through my mind and I grinned, pulling Mark closer, remembering the fun we had. Our clothing had been moving us into various positions, hovering in mid-air. Him. Me. And our living clothing.

I looked around the room. All my clothes seemed to be motionless and I reveled in this moment we had to ourselves when our clothes weren’t interfering. They could be sweet and loving, but sometimes they could be pushy and demanding. It was as if they needed something from me. Something I could only provide through sexual conquest as that seemed to be their only need and objective when awakened. Not that I minded. I was a guy; and a guy with needs which my clothing happily provided solutions for. I couldn’t deny them what they wanted, nor could I sincerely tell myself I didn’t enjoy it all. After all, they brought me to Mark.

Mark. Just the thought of him made me wonder: How did he feel about all this? He’s just as tied up (sometimes literally) in this as I am now. How will he feel later down the road? I decided it didn’t matter at this point, and relaxed in his grasp, falling into his warm embrace. His strong, muscular arm was enveloping my waist, and I wiggled myself into him.

In my kitchen, I heard the fridge door close and pots and pans rattling around. An egg cracked and started sizzling on the stove. The smell of coffee wafted into the bedroom. I sniffed greedily at the air, feeling my body desire whatever it was from whoever was making it.

I reluctantly moved Mark’s arm off of me and got up off the bed. I groggily stumbled down the hallway, my clothes still silent and unmoving as I approached the kitchen. As I rounded the corner, I was welcomed by the sight of five different pairs of mine and Mark’s leather batting gloves hastily preparing breakfast, all by themselves. It was like a scene from some Disney movie. They were cracking eggs, flipping pancakes and pouring a cup of coffee, setting it on the breakfast bar that separated the dining room from the kitchen. The hollow, filled out glove that set it down on the counter waved at me and pointed to the cup, welcoming me to sit and enjoy.

I meandered my way over to the breakfast bar and watched, leaning my elbows on the countertop, fascinated by the gloves working on the food all by themselves. I sipped the coffee, watching intently as my gloves, filled out to my shape, expertly worked each area of the kitchen. One pair was preparing scrambled eggs on the stove; another was warming up the griddle, getting ready to pour some pancakes onto it. It was hypnotizing, watching the way they moved about all by themselves, hovering in the air. When they’d turn around, I could see all the way into them -- all the way to their fingertips. I could get used to this kind of treatment, I thought to myself. I stared intently at the gloves stirring up the eggs on the range in front of me. They weren’t more than two feet away.

They must have noticed me watching, as they stopped what they were doing and one glove rose up in the air, waving ‘hello’ at me.

I waved back, not wanting to seem like I wasn’t interested, and above all I didn’t want to seem impolite.

“Good morning sunshine, did you sleep well?”

I was just about to take another sip of coffee when I froze. Did…they just…talk? I know it wasn’t me that said anything, and Mark was still asleep in the bedroom. This voice came from the kitchen, in fact, it sounded like it came from right in front of me – right where the gloves were working on the eggs.

I blinked a couple times as I was still unsure of what was happening. Both of the gloves stopped stirring the eggs, and rose up right in front of me.

“Don’t freak, it’s OK,” they said, flying up and raising so their palms were facing me. “We’re still the same as we’ve always been,” they said as they quickly flew over to my shoulders, massaging them. “It’s just, you’ve given us a lot more of yourselves and we’ve absorbed even more of your energy. Now, we’re capable of more.”

I had no idea what that meant. If this kept going, where would it lead? What exactly could our clothes be capable of?

“You’re…you can talk!?” I half said, half shouted out – surprised and shocked at this new situation.

“Yes, we can now. Now that we’ve become more…intimate,” the gloves said as they kept up their slow, sensual massage of my shoulders. I noticed the voice sounded vaguely like my own, but slightly different in a way. It was more playful and friendly, less cautious than I normally was. “You and Mark together give off enough energy that fuels our performance. It gives us power and makes us need you even more,” they said, sliding forward and rubbing my chest.

“You’re not going to…hurt me or Mark…are you?” I asked apprehensively as I looked down and watched them move around on my body on their own. The gloves just laughed and reached up, running their fingers through my bedhead hair.

“Does this hurt?” they asked as they slid themselves down my neck, back to my shoulders and kneaded their hollow leather fingers into my taut, tense muscles.

“No,” I moaned, relaxing into their firm touch. “It feels amazing.”

“Trevor, if you were hurt in any way, we’d cease to exist,” they told me. “We’ll do anything to keep you safe. All of us.” With that, every article of fabric in my apartment stirred at once. I felt my shirt slide around on me and my baseball pants quivered. My socks slid themselves down and up my legs and my cleats tightened up against my skin and I felt that familiar growth in my pants due to the attention.

“Yes Trevor,” my gloves purred to me as they flew down and started to rub my growing erection. “That’s what we need.” I groaned, and started to hump my crotch into my gloves as they fondled my hardening dick. I grabbed the counter to steady myself as I felt myself getting weak.

“But we know enough now to know that we need to back off -- at least for right now. We don’t need anything from you at the moment,” they said as they released their grip on my crotch and hovered back over to the eggs to stir them.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want them to continue fondling me, and I was a little disappointed that they didn’t keep up their attention. But the scent of the food and coffee invaded my senses -- and I found myself hungry for something other than food.

I looked down at my hard cock sticking out of my pants. “I might need something from you though,” I said, smirking as I looked at them.  

“Sit down you horny bastard,” they said to me, laughing. “We’ll have plenty of time for fun later.” My pants pressed onto my thighs, forcing me down onto the barstool. They then tightened up on my cock, stroking it slightly and slowly. My attention got brought back to the gloves as they finished stirring the eggs and, taking a sip of coffee, saw them flip them onto a plate and slide a couple pancakes on as well. They grabbed the maple syrup bottle and squirted some on as other gloves were already cleaning up, making it look as if nothing was ever touched. Watching all of them moving and flying through the air, as if filled out by invisible hands was hypnotizing. Leather was squeaking, and the hollow gloves made quick work of tidying up the kitchen.

“How do you keep your shape?” I asked, not thinking. “Oh, oops, I’m sorry I don’t know if that was rude. I don’t know the social etiquette when it comes to talking with my own clothing that can talk back,” I said, smiling a little.

The gloves just laughed as they scooped up the plate, bringing it over to me.

“We carry your essence, Trevor,” they said. “When you wear us, we take on your shape; therefore, now that we’re alive we can assume your shape. After all, it’s the only one we’ve ever known.”

The gloves set the plate down in front of me. It smelled delicious and I suddenly realized how hungry I was, and noticed that there was no fork for me to grab.

“Let us help you,” the gloves said. I saw a glove fly over to my silverware drawer and grab a fork from it. It hovered back over to the plate sitting in front of me and stuck the fork into the eggs, bringing it up to my mouth.

“Open wide!” they said gleefully.  I opened my mouth and the glove fed me the eggs they’d made. They tasted better than I’d ever made before in my life. I moaned as I chewed, savoring the flavor and relishing in the workout my cock was getting from my baseball pants at the same time.

“That tastes amazing,” I said to them after I’d swallowed.

“We’re glad you like it!” my glove said to me. “All we want to do is please you, Trevor.”

As my glove continued to feed me, I heard Mark rustling in the bedroom. Boy, he’s going to enjoy this new turn of events I thought, somewhat sarcastically to myself. I wondered how I was going to calm him down, once he heard his own clothes start to talk to him.

I could hear him now, walking to the bedroom door. My glove kept feeding me while I sat there, entranced by the deliciousness of the food and the fondling my baseball pants were giving me. That familiar clack, clack, clack of cleats on a hard surface started down the hallway and I looked up to see him rounding the corner into the dining room just as my glove was feeding me another forkful of pancake and egg.

He paused as he saw me being fed by my gloves.

“Enjoying breakfast?” He said, smirking to me. I could see he was noticing the activity happening in my pants as well.

“He sure is,” my glove responded back to him, my mouth full of food so that I couldn’t say anything. I felt my cheeks flush and wondered what would happen now. I looked at Mark out of the corner of my eye. His mouth was hanging slightly open, and he simply stared frozen in place at the glove, like he couldn’t believe he’d just heard it speak. I remembered the feeling.

“Are you going to stand there staring or are you going to come enjoy some of this delicious food too, stud?” the glove continued on. Mark continued to stand there, staring. “What?” the glove asked, turning towards him. “You act like you’ve never seen a talking glove before.”

Mark closed his mouth and slowly moved over to sit next to me on the next barstool over. He grabbed my coffee cup and drained it in one big gulp.

“Well...this is new,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I mean, after everything that’s happened lately, I really shouldn’t be surprised that you can talk,” he said jokingly, looking over the glove and then back at me still being fed by the glove and massaged by my pants.

“So what, do we have to, like, ask permission now before we can wear any of you?” Mark asked the glove.

“You’re cute,” the glove said, bringing the last of the food to my mouth. “Do you actually think you get to choose what you wear from now on?”

I looked over at Mark, and I could see him contemplating something.

“So...are we gonna have to...wrestle for our favorites?” Mark asked the glove, looking somewhat hopeful at the prospect.  

“Ha! It’s not like that” the glove said, laughing to itself, shaking slightly. “We are all still owned by you, so ultimately, you have the final say. But, I think you’ll find we can put together an outfit far better than you both ever could.” If the glove had been attached to an actual flesh and blood guy standing in front of me, I could have sworn he’d be smirking heavily right now.

“Oh? And what is that supposed to mean? You don’t think I know how to dress myself?” Mark asked jokingly in mock surprise. I looked over at the glove, still chewing my food.

“Of course not,” the glove responded back playfully. “You always pick out some great stuff. But I think you’ll find it’s more about us enjoying the feeling of being worn by you than the other way around. Now that we can communicate more easily, I think you’ll find some things of yours that have been dying to be ‘re-introduced’ to you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Mark said, smiling a little. “I really enjoy the feeling of wearing you; just don’t ask my underwear how they feel being worn,” Mark said, laughing to himself.

“I assure you, they love it very much,” the glove said. Mark turned to me.

“How did this happen? You seem to be surprisingly fine with this. I mean, how can you talk?” He asked, looking back at the glove. “You don’t have vocal chords. Look,” he said, waving his hands in front of the opening of the glove. “There just isn’t anything there. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t know exactly how this happened,” I said, watching him poke around inside the glove with his index finger. He’d pinched the wrist opening between his thumb and index finger and brought it close to his face. The glove went along willingly, allowing him to examine it closely and let itself be moved around under Mark’s touch. He intertwined his fingers with the glove’s and said, “say something.”

“What is it you’d like me to say, stud?” the glove asked him, as it caressed his fingers with its own, the hollow leather softly moving in and out of his fingers.

“Dude, it doesn’t even move or vibrate when it talks,” Mark said giddily as he toyed around with my living glove, intertwining his fingers with the glove’s and stroking along the outside. He then grabbed it, palm to palm, and I noticed they were holding each other’s hands, quite tightly like guys do when they’re about to --

“How about an arm wrestle, little glove?” Mark asked. A competitive streak lit up in his eyes and I noticed him smiling slightly.

“You’re on,” I heard the glove instantly respond and watched as it tightened up its fingers against Mark’s palm, gripping it tightly -- their thumbs intertwined.

Great. Apparently Mark and my clothing were equally as competitive with each other. Secretly though, I wondered what would happen and I watched with fascination. As much as I’d seen it, it was still a thrill to see my own batting glove filled out to the shape of my hand, with no hand inside of it or arm sticking out.

“Brings a new meaning to ‘arm wrestling, huh?” I asked jokingly, “seeing as how my glove has no arm.”

“Quiet!”  Mark and my glove both yelled in unison. “We need to concentrate,” Mark added in mock seriousness, smiling at me. I could see he was really getting into this.

“Alright, on the count of three?” My glove asked.

“One,” Mark said.

“Two,” the glove responded.

“Three!” They yelled together. Mark looked like he was going to have an aneurysm. His eyes were closed tightly, and his teeth were clenched. I swear, it looked like his neck vein was so big it was going to pop any second. His arm was trembling, vibrating slightly back and forth, and he was getting red in his face. He stuck his other arm out and grabbed the counter lip to try and get some leverage.

“Hey, no cheating!” My glove yelled at him.

“You’re a glove come to life, the deck is already in your favor.” Mark said through clenched teeth, struggling against the force the glove was exerting on him.

“You know what? You’re right,” the glove said as it stopped trembling and slammed Mark’s hand down onto the countertop. “Good try old man,” the glove said, laughing. “Hope you can do better next time.”

“Old man!?” Mark yelled incredulously. “Same time, same place tomorrow.”

“I’m already there,” the glove said to him.

“Yeah, well I let you have that round. We’ll see tomorrow,” Mark shot back.

Oh god. It already felt like I was living in some gay frat house. Did my clothing really feel the need to compete with my boyfriend?

“Hey, you’ve got a visitor,” my glove said, suddenly.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Mark and I both looked at each other with bewilderment. A visitor? What did that mean? Who was at the door? How did the glove know?

“If you two are too scared to answer the door I guess I’ll get it,” My glove said as it made a beeline for the door.

“NO!” We both shouted, reaching for my glove as it flew between us. I could only imagine the look on the face of whomever was on the other side. I secretly hoped it was some Jehovah’s witness or Mormon who’d take one look at my living glove answering the door and bolt, but for some reason I had a feeling it wasn’t. The glove expertly dodged any attempt to grasp at it and made it to the door handle where it undid the lock and opened the door. We both stared, jaws dropped, wide eyed, unable to move.

There in the doorway stood Carter, arms crossed on his chest.

He didn’t look surprised that the door opened on its own as we were both standing in the dining room -- the glove hidden on the other side of the door. Instead, he just looked...a little scared to be honest -- like he didn’t want to be here but had no choice.

“I should have known I’d find you both here, together,” he said, spitting out the last word like he was swearing. “OUCH!” He yelled, jumping up on his toes and moving his arm to his lower back as if he’d been pinched.

“That wasn’t nice,” a voice that sounded strangely like Carter’s said.

“Fine. I’m sorry.” he said, looking back at us. “Can I come in yet or isn’t this embarrassing enough? Someone might see this.”

“Uh, sure, come on in,” I said to him warily, motioning him in.  He walked in fast, right in between Mark and me and plopped down on the sofa. As he walked past, I couldn’t help but notice the outfit he had on. A tight plain green t-shirt that hugged every bump and ridge on his tight, muscled chest and these really cute skinny khaki pants. He also had on a pair of black adidas high-tops. The khakis bunched up as they hit the top of the shoes, showing them off. I immediately noticed it was an outfit Carter never would have chosen for himself.

His head was buried in his hands, and he looked like he wanted to be any place else other than right here, right now.

My glove shut the door rather loudly and Carter jumped, not anticipating the noise. Looking over he could see the glove hovering back over to the kitchen and his eyes went wide.

“It’s happened to you guys too!?” He yelled, jumping up off the sofa.

Mark and I gave a quick glance at each other. I guess we just learned how capable our clothes really could be.

“I’m pretty sure it happened to us before it happened to you, well, me in the beginning, but Mark quickly joined in,” I said to him.

“What do you mean?” Carter asked, turning his full attention to me, his eyes narrowing.

“Hey glove!” I yelled into the kitchen. “Would you please bring out some beers for us?” I figured the alcohol would help in calming down my nerves in recounting what happened to Carter, and I knew this would be the first Mark heard of it too.

“Isn’t it a little early for you boys to be drinking? Tsk tsk, what would your mothers say?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” I asked.

“I don’t know, your face is always a joke,” the glove said as it slowly wiped down the counter with a dishrag. I could see Mark silently laughing at the glove’s slight dig.

I heard Carter laugh a little, and I looked over to him. “Sounds like something I’d say,” he said, shrugging. The gloves’ joke must have put him at ease a little bit, and I saw he had been watching our interaction and perked up a little with the mention of beer. Maybe I’d been right about the beer helping.

“Yeah, I think beer would be a welcome sight at this point,” Carter said exhaling deeply, confirming my suspicion.

“Well hell, anything for the cutie in the tight green tee shirt,” my glove said as it rapidly produced three beers and set them on the coffee table between us. “And if you need anything, and I mean anything else,” my glove said as it rose up in the air and grabbed Carter’s chin in its hand, “you just ask. I’ll be more than happy to service you.” My glove flew back into the kitchen as it started to empty the dishwasher and put everything away.

I looked back at Carter and saw that he had sat back down on the sofa. He was looking out the window but I could see the redness of embarrassment flushing his cheeks. Man, what the hell happened to him I thought to myself.

“So, you were saying?” Carter said as he grabbed the beer and chugged a few gulps, visibly relaxing.

“Yeah, I think I’d like to hear this too,” Mark said, grinning from ear to ear.

I sat down on the chair facing the sofa and took a swig of beer. “I still remember that first day so well…” I began. I recounted how the socks initially came to life and how it spread to other things. I then told him how Mark had been brought into it.

After I’d finished my story, Carter just sat there, staring at me. His face was so nondescript that I had no inclination of what he might have been thinking.

“So…this is all your fault,” he said as he put his hands behind his head and propped his shoes up onto the coffee table, relaxing into the sofa cushions.

“I guess you could look at it like that, yes,” I replied. I felt guilty. Bringing Mark into this was one thing, but I knew Carter had problems with me and as much as an asshole as he could be sometimes, he didn’t deserve to be subject to all this.  

“So what’s your story Carter?” Mark asked. “You didn’t seem too fazed when that glove flew back into the kitchen by itself after shutting the door. In fact, it looks like you may have something you haven’t told us,” Mark said questioningly, eyeing Carter’s outfit. He did have a point. That tight green tee, skinny khaki pants and Adidas high top shoes had never seen the light of day by anyone on the team, and it seemed odd that he’d wear something so...revealing. There had to be a reason as to his choice -- or perhaps lack thereof -- of an outfit.

“Yeah, so, your little infectious clothing infected mine too,” Carter said, draining the rest of his beer.

“And oh, how you enjoyed it,” my glove said, flying back in from the kitchen to grab the empties collecting on the coffee table. It was also accompanied by another pair of Mark’s gloves in order to grab everything.

“Oh man, he sure did!” an unfamiliar voice said. I noticed it came from the direction of Carter’s crotch and Mark and I shared another quick glance at each other. My glove laughed as it flew back to the kitchen.

“Dammit! You promised you wouldn’t say anything if I agreed to wear you!” Carter shouted out, looking down at his khakis.

"Oh they already know I can talk. It's no big deal. Besides, your friends are really cute. I wonder if they'd be up for some some fun of their own with me. Might be fun to try them on for size."

"All you think about is sex!" Carter admonished them.

I couldn’t help but be aroused by the thought of wearing his khakis. It was enough that my own pants started to notice again, and decided that this was the perfect time to start up another massage session.

“Looks like someone likes that idea,” my baseball pants said, tightening up their fabric around my crotch and perfectly outlining my growing erection for all to see. They started to slowly pulsate around my hard on in my pants, and I could see Mark greedily eyeing what was going on.

“I think I need a piece of that myself,” Carter’s skinny khakis said as I saw the button pop open by itself, and the zipper started to slowly slide down its track. I noticed Carter’s high tops were untying themselves.

“Hey now! You promised you’d behave!” Carter shouted, grabbing the waist of his khakis to try and hold them up, to keep them from sliding themselves completely off.

Carter’s shoes lifted themselves off his socked feet and flew off, landing on the coffee table next to his legs. I couldn’t help but stare at his athletic socked feet wiggling around vulnerable and exposed. He had on white Nike no-show socks that hugged his feet perfectly. I decided right then that I didn’t care how, but I had to have those socks in my face at some point. Knowing there was a very good chance they were alive made me want them even more.

His high tops snapped me out of my sock gazing. They jumped onto the couch landing next to his arms and slid their laces around his wrists, pulling his arms off the waistband of his skinny khakis and holding his wrists tight against their leather.

“If you can behave and let us have some fun with your new friends, we’ll think about walking you by a lingerie store later,” one of the shoes said. The look on Carter’s face changed immediately and he cocked up an eyebrow. It was obvious he hadn’t even thought about women’s clothes having the same abilities as his own.  

“Whoa, someone’s got a fetish,” Mark said. I looked over at him and saw him looking pointedly at Carter’s now exposed crotch. I looked over and saw what had made Mark say what he did. Carter was wearing his jockstrap underneath his skinny khakis which were now slowly sliding down his legs.

“I didn’t dress myself guys. They dressed me up like this!” Carter said.

“I didn’t hear you complaining about me last night,” said another voice. I watched as the jockstrap fabric rippled out along the waistband hugging his pelvis, and saw the pouch shrink around his cock, wiggling itself into his crotch. He was getting hard, I noticed, and the sight of him being held captive by his clothing was turning me on. My pants noticed and started to contract and release their fabric around my own hardening cock. I had a feeling I knew where this was going and I wasn’t exactly sure I wanted it to end. In fact, I knew I didn’t. I was getting really turned on by watching Carter being worked over by his own clothes come to life. Serves him right to be the one embarrassed, for once. I thought to myself.

“Are either of you going to help me?” Carter asked, looking at us, trying to pull his arms away from being held captive by his high tops to pull his khakis back up..

“I don’t think I want to,” Mark said, breathing heavily. I now noticed his own cock jutting out onto his thigh, held down by his pants which were also rubbing him like mine were.

“Me either,” I moaned, arching my back a little as my pants kept up their slow, sensual rubbing. “I”m sorry Carter, but this is just so hot.”

“Why don’t you put on a show for my boys, Mr. Carter?,” one of my gloves said as it hovered close by. It landed on my chest and started walking its fingers over to my left nipple. It rubbed against it lightly, through my shirt, and I felt little ripples of pleasure travelling up and down my body. I looked over at Mark, and noticed another pair of his white leather batting gloves were raking their fingers up and down his chest. His pants kept up their massage.

“Gladly,” Carter’s jockstrap responded. Mark and I watched as it started to wiggle itself around on his dick. He squirmed slightly, looking at us out of the corner of his eyes.

“Hey, you know, I don’t feel right about having them watch. Last night it was just us,” Carter said nervously.

“Look, we don’t care,”Mark said, slightly annoyed. “Just give in man. You know you want to anyway.”

“He’s a smart guy,” Carter’s jockstrap said. “You should listen to him.”

Carter moaned. His jockstrap had completely tightened up on his cock and was shifting itself up and down against him suctioned tight to his shaft. You could almost make out the veins on his cock.  

I sat there, watching both guys succumbing to the will of their living clothing, and felt myself wanting more. Carter was finally starting to enjoy himself, and Mark was just...Mark. There was no way of describing his actions with his own clothes. It was like having his clothing come to life was an everyday occurrence and he was just enjoying the situation he found himself in. He was so nonchalant about everything all the time, and I envied his attitude. Fuck it. If he could do it, then so could I. It was at this point that I finally lost all inhibition. I knew what I wanted. I just needed to take it -- and the clothing made it so easy.

“Come here. I want you,” I said looking at Carter’s socked feet. Just as I’d anticipated, his socks started to slide themselves off his feet and started to float in midair, slowly moving towards me. I saw him open his eyes to see what was happening.

“Hey man, what gives?” He asked as he opened his eyes, observing me.

I watched as his socks hovered closer with lust and greed in my eyes. I was finally about to get that which I’d only been able to dream about for weeks. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Carter smirk.

“I always knew,“ He said. “All those times in the locker room I caught you looking. You pervert,” Carter said, chuckling slightly. “Looks like someone else has a fetish too, huh?”

I smiled to myself as his socks landed on my thighs, right next to my knees. My heart was pounding in my chest and I could feel my pulse in my ears. I couldn’t believe I was about to touch his socks, something I’d fantasized about ever since I first saw him and the way they looked on his feet. I could feel the weight of them pressing down, toes wiggling in anticipation. I looked at each of them. They were completely filled out to his shape, exuding a masculine confidence that made me soak my pants with precum.

I reached out and dragged my fingers across the top of them, feeling the smooth, thick white cotton responding to my touch. the sock’s toes stretched up so that the fabric was running across my wrists as I felt up Carter’s socks.

I opened up my hands so that my thumb was on each arch, and my other fingers on the outside, wrapping underneath and started to rub them. I could still feel the heat radiating off of them. They pushed into my hold, moving my hands out to the side slightly as they moved themselves around inside my hands.

“Mmm, that’s it man, show us how much you want us,” one of his socks said as they both slid out of my grasp and up my thighs, rubbing their toes around on the bulge in my pants.

I looked over at Mark again, and he was watching me with horny desire filling his eyes. His pants had unbuttoned and unzipped themselves. I could see the wrist of a glove sticking out of his waistband as it grabbed his cock, jacking him off slowly inside his pants.

“Are you gonna share?” Mark asked. I looked over at him and grinned. He smiled back. “Why don’t you keep one and I’ll take the other,” I propositioned. Almost instantly, one of Carter’s socks flew quickly over to Mark and started to slide itself across his chest, dragging its toes over his tanned, toned skin.

“Damn, both of you guys want my feet huh?” Carter asked, opening his eyes to look at us.

“No, just your socks,” we both said in unison. The sock remaining behind on me walked itself up my body and rose up, hovering above my face. It wiggled its toes and moved up, showing me its underside.

“What do you want to do to me?” It asked in Carter’s confident voice as it flexed itself, showing off to me. A million thoughts raced through my head, as I imagined so many different things I could think of that I could do with Carter’s socks. Fuck it -- I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I want you to make me your bitch,” I said to it. I saw Mark smile his cute, crooked smile out of the corner of my eye as the sock slowly started to advance toward my face. I heard Carter sigh -- probably at what I was saying, but I didn’t care. I could smell it as it got close. Damn, he must have walked all the way here, I thought to myself. Suddenly, it closed the distance quickly, pressing itself fully into my face.

I could feel my pants unbutton and unzip -- just like Mark’s and Carter’s had done. They slid down my thighs, exposing my cock and I lifted my ass up so they could easily slide themselves down. My baseball glove moved from my chest to my cock, gripping it in its tight leather grasp and started to move up and down jerking me off by itself -- the soft leather sliding effortlessly on my hard shaft as it gripped me tightly and lubed itself up with my precum.

I sniffed and inhaled Carter’s scent from his worn sock. It was everything I ever wished it could have been and everything I’d always fantasized about. Sweaty, but not overpowering. A definite musk that shot itself straight to my growing, hardening dick.

“Yeah, smell me dude. I know how much you like it when I’m sweaty and wet,” his sock said to me as it dug its toes into my nose -- pressing its fabric into my face and covering me with its smell. I could feel the thick cotton moving against my lips, and I parted them, allowing the sock to glide its hollow toes along my teeth. I stuck my tongue out, licking Carter’s sock from heel to toe as it moved itself over my tongue. Mark let out a moan. I looked over at him and saw that he was imitating what I was doing to Carter’s sock while two of his gloves were jacking him off and fondling his balls. His pants had slid themselves down to his knees.

The sock dragged its soft, thick, smooth fabric toes over my lips, and I opened my mouth so it could slide itself inside. I bit down and nibbled on the invisible toes inside the fabric and I could feel it ripple slightly.

“Dude, that fucking tickles man,” the sock said to me, as it lifted back out of my mouth, mashing its arch slowly against my nose and mouth -- its toes pressing into my forehead.

Carter was still the star. His jockstrap continued to jack him off with itself, suctioned tightly against his raging hard on.He had leaned back into the cushions of the couch, legs still on the coffee table but spread open wide, his hands clasped behind his head. I noticed then how good-looking and well-muscled he really was, and it sent waves of desire over me. Yes, he’d always been an asshole, but he was always such a sexy asshole. I was glad my clothing had infected his with life. It brought him down a peg and made him identify with us. Now he had a secret too. I wondered how much he really liked this, and whether he was holding back. His clothing made it sound like he’d had an all out sex session last night, and my cock jumped at the thought of him being overtaken completely by his horny, sex driven clothing.

“Did everyone just forget about me?”

I opened my eyes to see his skinny khakis sitting on the sofa, one leg crossed in a ninety degree angle over the other.

“Absolutely not. Come here you,” Mark growled at the pants by the waist. He flung them around through the air as he grabbed Carter’s sock by its cuff with his other hand, lifting it off his face. The khakis flew over and straddled Mark’s thighs, hugging them tightly. He ran his hands over the fabric as he let go of the sock. It flew back to continue the assault on his face. Mark got up off the chair and stood to the side, flipping the khakis around and bending them over the armrest. He fondled the fabric, pulling the ass of the pants into his crotch still being felt up by his glove inside his pants.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck a guy in skinny pants,” Mark purred, running his hands over the smooth fabric of Carter’s skinny khaki pants.

“Why wait” the khakis responded back, pushing themselves into Mark’s crotch and grinding back and forth.

His pants dropped themselves down to his ankles. His glove grabbed his cock, guiding it toward the upper thighs of Carter’s khaki pants.

Watching Mark manhandling Carter’s clothing -- his confident body movements showing he was in charge made me tense with growing hunger. Carter’s sock was teasing my senses, and I wanted to repay the favor. If only there was something I could do that I knew he’d like.

“Mind if we join, boys?” All three of us looked up at the same time towards the source of the voice. At the entrance to the hallway hovered mine and Mark’s jockstraps from the night before. Carter let out a moan and his shoes jumped down off the sofa, hovering up and sliding themselves back onto his feet. “I need them. Now.” Carter said, humping his pelvis into his jockstrap and running a hand over his chest.

Our jockstraps instantly flew over to Carter who proceeded to glide a hand along each waistband, pulling them into his body, running them over and against his skin. Carter’s jockstrap that he was wearing was working him over faster and faster, as Mark’s jock rose up and pressed its massive bulge into Carter’s face. I heard him inhale deeply.

I looked at Mark and he was intently watching Carter enjoying his living jockstraps. He started bucking into Carter’s khakis harder, moaning and enjoying his cock sliding in and out of Carter’s thighs come to life inside his living khaki pants.

My glove rose up and surveyed the situation happening in front of me. “I don’t think you’re enjoying his sock enough,” it said, and forcefully grabbed his sock filled out to Carter’s exact foot shape and mashed it into my face. Carter’s sock wiggled around and pressed itself into my nose, invading my senses. Every part of my body was on sensory overload, and I knew I couldn’t hold back much longer.

Carter moaned, humping madly against the glove inside his jockstrap while Mark was bucking like a stallion in heat, fucking Carter’s khakis with no regard for anything else as Carter’s other sock danced across his face.

The whole scene was just too hot that I knew I was about to shoot.

“I’m gonna blow my fucking load!” I shouted out to the room.

“You’re not the only one!” Mark shouted back.

Man, I could only imagine what the neighbors were thinking, and hoped they didn’t hear this commotion.

“I’m so close!” Carter added. He’d fallen down onto his back laying down onto the sofa while mine and Mark’s jockstraps were really giving his face a workover. Monstrous bulges were sticking out of the front while the fabric caressed and fondled Carter’s cheeks. They were really giving him a workover, as they pressed into and humped his face, and he wasn’t being shy at all about how much he was enjoying it. He moved his face back and forth, nuzzling into the fabric and getting a mouthful of living jockstrap. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue over the fabric, working his head back and forth as he licked at the fabric pouches. He was running his hands and fingers along the straps of each jockstrap while he bucked wildly into the hollow, living glove inside his own jockstrap.

“Oh! Fuck Yeah! I’m coming!” Carter shouted as what I could only imagine were ropes of cum soaking into his jockstrap fabric.

Mark was moaning and started to slowly fuck Carter’s khakis, savoring the feeling as I heard cum hitting the leather sofa over and over again.

My own orgasm was building, and I could feel myself getting closer with every sniff of Carter’s sock in my face. My glove was so expertly working my cock that if felt like I was back in my own room by myself, holding a sock to my face and jacking off by myself. I felt that irreversible feeling, and knew I was only seconds away. Carter’s sock slammed itself into my face.

“Smell me you little bitch. Worship me. Lick me, slave. Don’t I just smell so fucking good?” It could have been Carter himself saying these things but I didn’t care as I shot my load just then. I opened my eyes to see his hollow, ghostly sock rubbing itself into my face and my leather batting glove holding the sock on my face. I joined the guys as my own orgasm rocked my body. My own cum shooting all over my abs and chest.

It took a couple minutes, but we all started to breathe normally again and regain control of our senses.

“Mmm, I like you a lot. You take charge,” Carter’s khakis said to Mark, wiggling their butt against his crotch. “Would you fit? If I tried you on?”

“Let’s find out,” Mark said, sitting down and sticking his legs out.

‘No! If you put yourself on him, what will I wear?” Carter asked.

“I’ve got tons of stuff, you could see if something fits,” I said. Carter looked at me pointedly.

“If your jockstrap is any indication, I could just imagine what would happen if I actually put something of yours on,” Carter said, laughingly.

“Sure looked like you didn’t mind the attention though,” Mark said.  

“It’s not like I had a choice. You’ve seen how forceful they are; you can’t fight it,” Carter responded back.

“Speaking of jockstraps, you really seemed to enjoy them,” Mark said as if he was hinting at something. “Got something you wanna say?” He asked looking over at Carter, smiling.

He just sat there, staring down at the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, and looked up. “I may have a...a thing, for, um...other guys’ jockstraps,” he said quietly, looking down at the floor again. “But I’m straight! he said, looking back up at us. “So don’t be getting any ideas -- either of you. My clothes may like to mess around with guys, but I don’t!”

“Just their jockstraps, right?” Mark joked.

“Anyway, that’s it? That’s your big secret?” I asked, looking at Carter incredulously. “That you like other guys’ jockstraps? Big fucking deal dude.”

“I’ve got an image to maintain man,” Carter said.

“And I’ve got a question,” Mark said as he watched the khakis fall down onto the floor and slid themselves under his feet. They started to rise by themselves, gliding effortlessly up his legs. “Why do your clothes like guys?” He asked as the khakis slid over his ass and situated themselves. The zipper glided back up its track all by itself while the pants buttoned.

“You read the directions, you know,” the khakis said as my glove poked me in the stomach. “Remember? Subsequent item motivation will recurse from its parent item?”

Both guys looked at me then at the same time.

“Directions? You have directions for your clothing?” Carter asked, looking at me curiously.

“Does that mean you can control them then? Has it been you doing this all along?” Mark asked hopefully.

“I haven’t been controlling them, no,” I said, looking at Mark “And I had directions, but I didn’t read them before I tried on the socks I bought initially. I was just horny and I wanted to wear them. I left the directions sitting there. I didn’t know it would lead to all this though,” I said.

“Dude!” Carter said, standing up, “You always read the directions! Didn’t you learn anything in High School?”

“So what’s next, boys?” Carter’s khakis asked, making Mark squirm under their touch.

“Whoa! Remember how earlier, when I said the glove didn’t even move or vibrate when it talked? Your khakis just vibrated man,” Mark said, sliding his legs around inside. “Do it again,” he said, looking down at his crotch.

“Like this?” the khakis responded. Mark moaned, arching his back.

“Yes, just like that,” Mark said, still moving around inside Carter’s khakis as he closed his eyes, leaning his head back onto the chair.

“We want more,” the clothing said, assembling now and rising off the floor. I noticed that my closet was being emptied and all sorts of different items of clothing were walking around. Jeans, khaki shorts, underwear, workout attire, t-shirts, socks, and gloves were all filling the room.

Carter’s high tops flipped him back onto the sofa and lifted his legs up in the air. They untied and flew off long enough for his no show socks to slide back on his feet, followed by a pair of my grey track pants with orange side stripe from my dresser. His high tops slid themselves back on his feet, tying themselves up tight as his shirt sat him up against the couch cushions.

At the same time, my baseball pants had rose up my legs, hugging my thighs tight inside as they zipped up and buttoned themselves again. A pair of gloves grabbed my arms, lifting them up as my baseball shirt slid itself back onto me, settling against my chest. It was true, I could feel the clothing vibrating ever so slightly.

“What do you mean, ‘we want more?’” I asked the clothing that was assembling into my already crowded living room.

“We need more men; we need more energy,” they said all at once. “Do you want to feel what it’s like to be enveloped in soft, silky-smooth, satiny fabric filled out to the shape of the women you’ve always lusted about?” a green muscle t-shirt asked as it approached Carter. It was filled out to my shape, I noticed, but it had grown slightly in the pecs and shoulders, while thinning slightly in the waist -- the fabric tightened on invisible, bulging abs.

“Oh I’d love that!” Carter said excitedly, a smile spreading across his face.

“Don’t you want to be a talented, famous, major league baseball player?” Carter’s khakis asked Mark who was still enjoying the massage being given to him by Carter’s horny khakis.

“Oh hell yes!” Mark exclaimed excitedly, his eyes flashing open in amazement.

“Take us to the team,” the clothing purred at us. Items were rubbing up against us, grabbing at us, pushing us, prodding us and touching every area of our bodies. The attention was so focused, so direct.

“And you,” my glove said, flying over and running leather fingers through my hair. “We’ve seen the way you’ve looked at your teammates socks. Don’t you want to experience every pair -- all of them, at once? Don’t you want to know what Patrick’s packing underneath that jockstrap?”

It was true, I’d wondered about that for the longest time as Patrick never changed in the locker room. He was the only one I hadn’t seen.

“H-how do you know what we want?” Carter asked breathlessly as he was touched so lovingly -- so deliberately -- in every way possible.

“You’ve given more of yourselves to us. By opening up to each other, you open up more energy for us,” a pair of my truck underwear said as it broke through a wall or jeans and hovered over to Carter, rubbing its ass onto his crotch. “And you open up your fantasies,” the trunk underwear said.

“I say yes,” Mark said, smiling. “Why not? Plus, it’ll be fun to see the look on their faces when their clothing starts moving around by itself.”

Carter and I looked at each other, and he smiled. I couldn’t help but smile as well at his enthusiasm.

“Not that I want to,” he prefaced, “but I need to see this for myself as well,” Carter said. “If I had to go through all this, then they all do too.”

“Well, I guess the team is going to be pretty surprised next practice,” I said quietly. I knew I’d just doomed everyone on the team to be forcibly overtaken by their own clothing inexplicably come to life, but secretly, I was dying to see what was going to happen to them, and ultimately, how they’d react. I smiled even wider, looking at Mark and Carter.

“We should come up with a plan.”