Jack escapes, going to work and the many changes.

It must've been too much for Jack, Sandra could only watch him retreat up to his room, erection stiffly pointing its way. He looked mortified and embarrassed about being caught out, she felt sorry for him and disgusted at herself for how she had acted. She could've handled it a better way instead of jumping to conclusions, but with her work lately she had a lot on her mind and she treasured her privacy at home.

Add to that how she found him yesterday, masturbating with her lingerie no-less, it seemed to shut out her ability to reason properly.

Looking at these clothes that were practically revealing her form to the world and taking advantage of her to boot, made a resentful feeling burst forth. They made a rift appear between her son and herself.

What crazy quirk or act of God could've made these inanimate materials have a conscience of their own; able to act out their desires and forcibly impress upon others their whim, it was ludicrous.

But here she was, about to be late for work, not knowing how people will respond to seeing her new attire or witnessing a moving item for the first time.

Jack wouldn't come down from his room so she couldn't work through this with him together, that would have to be left for when she gets back, it wasn't healthy for him to escape from it.

The thought of calling in sick today did briefly cross her mind, but if she did that she'd never hear the end of it from the men at work; it was frustrating. Just like when Jack's dad had left her, she needed to pick herself up and focus on each step forward, it was all she could do.

~

Now safely back in his room, all Jack wanted to do was blow his spunk into the front of his pants. The incorporeal nails were getting more bold in their playing of his glands from the inside of his pants. He had to escape no matter what, because he felt the rapid actions of the stealthy digits begin to increase their covert actions on his cock. They wouldn't wait for him to explain, they seemed intent on seeing him make a mockery of himself in front of his mother.

He almost didn't make it back to the safety of his bedroom.

The pants seemed to grow impatient at his lack of cumming, finally employing its killer move. The strings on the front of his pants snaked their way around the foreskin of his cock, expertly pulling and tugging his sensitive uncovered tip.

Just a few tentitive touch's were enough to send the most staunchest of people bursting forth, let alone him. A hot fire burst forth from his loins, making him paint the constricting material encasing his lower body. Jack saw nothing but black, as the backed up stream of semen wet the contents of his nylon pants. But he couldn't help furrow his brows as he felt his seed make a mess of his balls and lower legs.

"Finally," Jack sighed and rested his body back on his bed. Having been strung along all night long had frayed his nerves to the point of bursting. On the one hand he was thankful for the sentient clothes for ending his torment, but on the other, he did harbour some animosity towards them.

~

Sandra's fears were unfounded. It seemed that this phenomenon wasn't an isolated incident, she got her first shock listening to the radio in the car.

Apparently every article of clothing on the planet seemed to have come to life, all at the same time yesterday. Each item of clothing would exhibit different types of behaviours, whether it was seeing their owner naked, shamed, teased or even blue-balled.

No one knew how their clothes would react till they found themselves victim under their perverse care. Some people opted to wear as little as possible, others went nude, each person's response was different.

The governments of the world had convened a meeting to address this farce, but the sentient items seemed to crush this response. Apparently it had all turned into a debacle when the clothes had started undressing and fondling members mid discussion. No one was immune to their perversions.

"Politicians.... Did they really think that their conservative way of dressing would end up in anything good?" Usually such people were the worst sorts of repressed deviants, a gleeful chuckle couldn't help emerge as Sandra switched off the radio, focusing on making her way to work.