Dylan goes on his date, after all… kinda...

“Hi, honey,” Erica’s outfit said. “They left you in your underwear?”

Dylan stood there open-mouthed, staring at where he imagined Erica’s face would be if she were here wearing this outfit. Did the outfit not know what was going on?

“Are you serious?” Dylan said. “Don’t you know what’s going on?”

“No idea,” the outfit said. “One minute we were all in hangers or suitcases, the next… well, we were still packed away but we could move. We started to go upstairs but with all the commotion we could hear down here we decided to just wait. Some of us saw you through a window when you pulled up and got out of your car, but a few minutes later that big girl came out arm in arm with your suit. I was just about to go up when we heard you open the door. Come with me to the other room, so you can see what’s what.”

Dylan followed the outfit, staring straight at the denim butt as he did so. It had been a while since he’d last seen Erica in these jeans, and he didn’t remember them fitting her so tightly.

“You like what you see, huh?” the outfit said, still facing away from him.

‘Um… um…” Dylan replied, a bit flustered.

“No need to be nervous,” the outfit said with a giggle. “Every bit of me belongs to Erica, so you can stare at my butt all you want.”

“Huh-how’d you know I was staring?” Dylan asked.

“Come on, you are Dylan, right?” the outfit said, as they entered the finished room that Dylan had just started turning into a man-cave when he and Erica split. “That’s kinda how things got to where they are now. Plus I don’t have to have eyes to see you staring.”

As they entered the room, Dylan looked around at the assorted outfits and single items -- jeans, athletic suits, dresses, blouses, slacks, tube and tank tops, some assembled into outfits and some hovering solo.

There were various voices shouting their greetings, some sounding more like Erica than others. One item caught Dylan’s eyes immediately -- a huge hovering scarf, tied around unseen breasts but filled out to a shape much larger than Erica’s, hanging in the air by itself. Apparently it took note of Dylan staring, as it turned toward him and began speaking.

“Hi there, Dylan,” it said, chuckling.

“Hu-he-hello,” Dylan replied. Erica had never been anywhere near as big as the shape filling out the scarf. Dylan was about to ask about that when the scarf beat him to it.

“I know you’re wondering where I came from,” the voice said. “Erica never wore me as a top, and I’m guessing she never meant to. But that doesn’t seem to matter anymore, so I figured why not fill myself out. I actually like being this size.” The scarf jiggled a bit, and Dylan was sure he saw what looked like invisible fingers pressing against the front of the scarf. Then he saw a hand shape pressing against the inside of the scarf, as if it were caught between the fabric and the rounded shape inside.

Dylan stared open-mouthed, so fascinated with this floating busty scarf that he paid no mind to the other items in the room, until he felt something pinch his butt.

"Hey!" he said, quickly moving his hand to intercept the pincher but not finding the offending hand.

Erica's jeans outfit giggled. "You were about to start slobbering, so I had to get your attention."

The music gave way to a frenzied-sounding female voice. Someone had switched the stereo over to the radio to try to find some news. "Hey everyone," a voice called out from the general vicinity of the glove. "I think they're talking about whatever is going on."

All the voices in the room died down to a murmur as the upset-sounding woman continued. "I'm sitting here in the studio, in my underwear. The clothes I wore here this morning are now standing over me, by themselves -- with no one wearing them -- and handing me copy to read. There are skilled professionals here, in just their underwear if that, answering phones. Some receivers are hanging in space with no one holding them, but computers at those desks are busy typing what the callers are reporting."

"As for those reports -- it seems that all over the world, clothing is rebelling against humans. Not just removing themselves from wearers, like mine did to me, but in many cases clothing in closets, dressers, suitcases, and entire store inventories are filling themselves out and… doing whatever they want. Some are… toying with the people who had been wearing them, while others are only interacting with other clothing."

"One theme that keeps repeating, in reports from all over is -- randomness. One person's entire wardrobe vacates their premises, while another's stays still and quiet. There doesn't seem to be a pattern--"

At that the glove switched the radio off and spoke up. "So it's not just here. It's everywhere."

"So, what do we do?" said the hugely inflated scarf.

"Whatever we want!" said a yellow playsuit. "Erica left us down here for years, and now she's out there doing who knows what. Maybe having some fun. So I'm not gonna hang around here waiting to see what happens next, I'm going out and find myself someone, maybe even some-body, to have some fun with."

The outfit turned to a couch behind it, bending over to place some things in a miniature duffel bag. Dylan stared at the slender but nicely-shaped butt, trying to remember when or if he'd seen Erica wearing this outfit.

"You really can't help yourself, can you?" asked the jeans outfit. "You've been staring at tits and butts the whole time you've been down here, not even trying to hide it. Or that." The outfit pointed a sleeve at Dylan's erection, not the least bit hidden by his drawers.

"Um, yeah, about that," Dylan said, beginning to deflate from embarrassment. "Are there any old clothes of mine still around?"

"Oh, now that you're busted, you wanna look for clothes?" He couldn't tell where the voice was coming from. Probably the same source as the soft warm hand-shape that gently but firmly took hold of him inside his drawers.

"H-h-who's doing that?" It was hard to concentrate on words when there was a hand taking care of business down there. He did notice, though, that the waistband of his drawers had not been pulled out to let an invisible hand in.

The voice was now speaking softly in his ear. "You heard the news report. If clothes were pulling themselves off of people, like your suit did to you, then they were coming to life before they came off, right?" He nodded. "And if it's random, who says a guy's clothes have to behave, or be shaped, like a guy?"