Do the clothes act like this when they're worn?

(By mariofan of writing.com, edited by Vestiphile)

"I guess I was just wondering...does, um, does my mom's company know you can do things like this?" This time on the red leather gloves on his butt retreated, holding up a finger to him and swaying it back and forth. "So, they don't." Thumbs up from the same glove.

This was getting crazy. That meant the company his mother worked for had--somehow--accidentally created a line of clothing that could move and act on their own. He still didn't see how it was possible.

"So, wait--if they don't know that you can do this...does my mom know?" The glove did a sort of one-handed shrug, facing its palm up and bobbing slightly while the other glove still playing along his backside goosed him. "Well--hey! That's kind of elusive, isn't it?" The glove gesturing to him placed itself against the side of his torso and slid down it, caressing his trunk and running a leathery thumb over the obliques of his abdomen. He looked down in awe when the red pointer finger hooked inside of his pants.

These things were getting frisky! John tried to continue with another line of questioning.

"Okay, that's fuh-fair if you don't wanna tell me everything," John said, wondering just how involved his mom was with the development of these self-fitting clothes. "Owner-clothing privilege, I suppose," He laughed nervously. The glove headed toward the button of his jeans. "But, um--if someone wears you, are you still able to move around like this?"

Neither of the red leather gloves relented to give him an answer, but once again both brown leather gloves mimed a double thumbs-up.

"Wow, that's..." John tried not to let his mind wander too far with this information, but with the apparently open and playful nature of this strange apparel, his ability to coax some cooperation out of them with their basic communication and the fact that he knew he had the place all to himself--his curiosity was getting the best of him now. The red leather glove at the front of his pants managed to unsnap the button before he even asked.

"I know you're not really tailored to this body type," John blushed, "But is there a way you could, um--show me how that might work?"