A messy morning

Stacy’s dreams were never very vivid, and they never lasted more than a few minutes in her waking memory, but last night’s refused to leave her mind. Flashes of colorful fabrics and delicate lace danced through her subconscious as the subject of her dreams played before her. She was draped elegantly on the crimson, silk sheets of a large bed, central in a dimly lit bedroom. The fabrics against her body made her hidden skin tingle with erotic bliss and she fidgeted atop the slippering bed covers. She gazed down her squirming form, and she could barely see past the mountains of flesh attached to her chest. They looked unnaturally large on her slender frame, bigger than they had ever been in real life. She could feel pillowy fat lifted and compressed by the tight corset constricting and tickling her sensually. Her gloved hands slide up her tight waist, feeling a cartoonish hourglass shape ending at lusciously full hips.

Her typical underwear was sensible and classy, to complement her slender curves. This outfit was a pervert’s wet dream, something she’d never wear on her own accord, but here in her subconscious, she felt powerful, sexy, and desirable. She filled with an unfamiliar pride at how sexy her outfit felt and how sexy that made her feel. She felt as willing to please as she looked. Her thoughts were interrupted by the door to the sexy boudoir opening roughly, and a tall, imposing man entered quickly. Stacy’s rational thought warned her about the stranger approaching, but her body and outfit felt drawn towards him, wanting to serve. She swore she could feel silken finger running along her clothed curves, teasing her puffy nipples and swelling clit. Before he could lay a strong hand on her, she woke up in a hot panic.

"Fuck." She muttered, replaying moments of her dream in rapid succession, remembering the pleasurable heat her clothes made her feel and how almost disappointed she felt to not please her dream partner. The thought of clothes brought her attention to her sudden feeling of chill, and she looked to see she was fully nude on top of the still made bed, sheets damp with sweat from last night's excitement. “I don’t remember getting naked last night…but I can’t remember much about going to bed at all.” She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, resting her elbows on her knees. Looking between her knees, she saw a pair of red pumps placed squarely between her feet, pointed directly at her. If someone were wearing them her head would be in their pelvis. She wouldn’t have gotten these out last night; she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d seen them, having tossed them to the back of her closet some years ago. They were a high heeled pump that she used to go clubbing in, but her busier life has led her to a more comfortable, sensible wardrobe style. “It has been a while since I’ve gotten some action. Maybe I was just horny last night.” Stacy admitted she had been focused too much on work projects and bringing someone home might be the stress relief she needed. She picked up the shoes by their loose ankle straps and rose to return them to her closet, where she saw another strange wardrobe phenomenon.

The slatted doors were flung open and held there by the pile of clothing pieces spilling into the main room: Articles she hadn’t seen in years were mixed among her fresh laundry, stockings and hose were tangled in various shoes, and outgrown clothes that she planned to donate were spilled from their bags. Even some Halloween costume pieces seemed to be mixed in. “I didn’t drink last night…” she pondered to herself. Even at her drunkest, she could remember moments of her blackouts, but now, stone cold sober, she couldn’t remember a thing. As she looked closer, she could see a smaller pile that seemed to consist of her sexiest things. “I guess I was thinking about getting laid.” The skimpy thongs and pushup bras brought her thoughts back to her dreams, and she felt her face flush. She rounded the pile of fabric to place the red pumps away and to find something to throw on for her weekend chores. “I’ll get my errands done, and then I’ll hit a club tonight.” She promised herself. A nice fucking would help her destress before returning to work to tear apart her incompetent employee. As she approached the doors of the closet, she felt a sharp bite on the pad of her hand carrying the heels, and she dropped them in shock. She rubbed the growing welt with her thumb, mumbling about the metal clasp of the shoes pinching her. As she continued rounding the pile, her ankle flexed awkwardly, as it met unexpected resistance. Looking down, Stacy saw she had accidentally stepped on the dropped heel. More specifically, she had stepped into the heel, somehow slipping the entire shoe on without looking. Even the straps were threaded and waiting to be buckled. While she adjusted her footing to remove the unwanted footwear, she found herself now teetering on both heeled shoes. She somehow dropped them to land standing up, and she managed to take her next two steps right into them. As she stumbled off balance for a moment, she heard the metallic clink of the clasps securing on her ankles.

After her footwear somehow secured itself, Stacy felt a numbness in her feet, like when they're just starting to fall asleep. She wiggled her toes, testing the feeling in them. Everything looked and reacted normally, though each foot felt enveloped in a warm...'presence' was the best term. They tingled with impatient energy and she felt her feet urged to walk toward the sexier pile of her wardrobe. She lifted a foot to continue her search, but her whole leg swung to the opposite side, placing it into the opened leg of a random thong on the ground. While Stacy attempted to keep her balance, her other shoe lifted and quickly planted her second foot into the other leg of the convenient underwear. She swung her arms wildly to keep her balance. She swore the heels had pulled her feet into place. As she pondered this impossibility, she let out a startled peep when she felt thin fabric shoot up between her perky cheeks. Her sound transitioned into a moan as similar fabric pressed solidly against her trim mound, outlining her tight slit and almost probing for her hooded jewel. After the elastic snapped high on her hips, she felt a similar numbing presence around them. She felt her pelvis pull and swing tentatively, humping slightly before throwing her cheeks back roughly. Stacy grabbed her gyrating waist, feeling the same numbness beneath her new thong as the fabric seemed to tingle across her lower lips. Her legs started feeling a familiar, weaker tingle and her feet were again lifted by an unknown ****, with her waist now aiding in the locomotion.

"How the hell..?" Stacy was perplexed by her lower half's apparent sentience, as it **** her to walk against her commands. There was a distinct sway to her stride, despite the robotic nature that her stiff knees created. Her arms extended straight out to her sides and the heels strutted her into a crumpled pile of denim. Her breath became deeper and more rapid as she felt her legs lock in place. Any effort to move became her bending at the waist, like her legs were magnified to the floor. She felt a rough texture crawling up her toned calves, and she looked to see the denim blob clawing it's way up her legs, which waited patiently for their coverage. She bent quickly to reach the climbing pants, pushing on the bunched fabric currently between her knees. While she struggled, she felt a rough, lifting tug dig into her taint, burning her puckered hole and unsheathing her pulsing clit. The painful heat brought tears to her eyes until she released the pants and grabbed at her thong's elastic on her wide hips. Her struggles became worthless as the denim waistband quickly enveloped the sexy underwear and swatted at her retreating fingers.

These jeans were a pair of low-rise hip huggers from before a growth spurt, so their slightly smaller waist dug roughly into her hip fat and the cuffs sat tightly at her mid calf. She felt the rest of her legs heat up from the compressing fabric and the controlling numbness fully spread over them. It was an odd sensation to only control your body from above the waist. It was like trying to balance on a pillar, but on your belly. She could feel her legs and feet fine, but their idle posing and impatient foot tapping were not her choice. Her weight shifted from one foot to the other, popping her curvy hips outward. If she focused intently, she could stand how she told her body to, but the instant she faltered, the foreign control returned. Her skin beneath the living pants tingled like a thousand gentle fingers traced infinite paths along her goosebumping skin. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead from the pleasurable heat, doubly strong where her skimpy thong and tight jeans could tease her in tandem. As her exposed nipples hardened in the chilled air, another hot sting ripped between her thighs, forcing her to bend forward to avoid the searing pain. At the same time, her feet were flexed past the heel's **** tiptoe. These combined movements toppled her into the clothes pile, and she her screams were muffled by the various fabrics slithering across her bare upper body.

Stacy was in paralyzed shock as she tried to rationalize her odd, jerky motions. Her upper body felt swarmed by various textures, like snakes in a pile of other snakes. A silken grip anchored upon her wrists before she was blinded by a stretchy fabric consuming her head. Her constricted wrists rose from the pile and dragged her arms into the same mass that was blinding her. She screamed and struggled in vain as the synthetic creature spread taut across her wriggling form. Her vision finally cleared as the attacking top settled upon her torso. She recognized the long-sleeved, work out crop top she was now trapped in. It was more of a sports bra with built in compression and support for her boobs that she would wear beneath a loose top while she exercised. But the skin tight fabric laid flush on her slender arms down to the wrists and clung to her gulping neck, leaving her midriff fully exposed. She felt the possessing **** extend from her top, binding her arms, torso, and even neck to the control. Her arms pressed her hands forcefully into the floor, and her feet planted firmly as she was pulled to her feet like a discovered marionette. Her body felt tingly and hot, and more covered skin was sending teasing tingles to her pussy.