Yep. Clear in the house silence, someone is walking down the stairs.

In a dim-witted mouse-move, you move, still entirely naked, into the main house corridor. The heavy walking can only belong to a man, and whoever that might be, you don’t want to meet them. Fleeing on your thankfully silent naked feet, you slide into the kitchen. You can hear the feet coming towards it, unsurprisingly. You open the pantry door, get inside, close it. It opens into the garage, and you elect to get in there before someone decides to grab a pack of coffee or something. Could be Alex, your friend, or your womanizer Dad, or your asshole brother, or any family friend crashed yesterday… and you really don’t want them to see you right now.

You grab the only thing in the garage, a black poncho.

You open the garage door, let yourself out and run away. Free! Wait. Where are you running to exactly? You realize you ran for several blocks, into some part of town you never actually walk to. Who walks anyway?

And there is a car coming in the otherwise empty street. It’s obviously a bad idea to let anyone see you dressed this way, and you dash into someone’s yard, and behind their house. You notice bras, too small for you, drying in the backyard, among towels and other pieces of linen. The backdoor isn’t locked… you get in, even though it’s pretty crazy. After all, staying outside is just as bad.

You can hear a woman arguing with another. There seems to be no man in the house. Like a thief, you discreetly check the rooms. In one of them, a mother is patently scolding her teenage daughter. Both are in pajamas, which isn’t very surprising. It’s rather early in the day, after all. Every other room is devoid of human presence. One is apparently a man’s room. You don’t take the risk to stay here, even though it seems too clean to have regular occupancy. Maybe the son, gone for college?

Another room is probably the parents. You note they must be Muslims, given the specific religious items. That’s a nice bed. The lady must be getting fucked real nice here, so lucky she’s a married woman… you’re wet just thinki… wtf?! This spell is acting already that powerfully? You need to find clothes fast.

A bathroom. Kind of pointless, unless running around in a bathrobe is a major improvement in your mind over the poncho. It is, actually. But no. Not the solution you need. You need a big hard cock. Wtf? Again? You need a big black… dress, hiding you.

The last room is a bit weird. It’s half a library, half a dresser. It seems the man of the house has expensive suits, and the large cloaks of everyone are stored here. There are also robes. Abayas. Some hijabs of various colors, some very pretty. It’s not a bad idea… hide this luscious body behind a veil and avoid the male gaze and their hard dicks that would fill that pussy, that wet needy pussy…

You act now. Grab a green one and dress. You find that your body has some muscle memory… you know how to put that thing on. Someone is playing games with you. This can’t be a series of unlikely coincidences.

You can hear the women get to the shower. The daughter showers and dresses as her mother explains just how important is is that she makes a great impression. The daughter whines that she doesn’t want to take a plane and she’s scared of flying. The mother showers and dresses too. From your hiding place, you don’t see them until they walk out, fully decked in hijab too. The daughter has a green abaya and hijab, just like the one you “borrowed”.

“Mama, I don’t have food for my mouse. I can’t fly without my mouse. We need to get food. Now.”

Ok, you’ve heard of flight comfort animals, but it’s kind of weird to you that you “meet” one. Sort of.

The mother sighs, a sigh so deep it sounds like she’s been trying so hard to be a good mom for a million years.

And just like that, they leave.