No Fair

Mike's jeans took the opportunity to slide off of his ankles, following behind his shoes and socks, which were already headed towards Steve. He had made it halfway up the streambank, wet and naked. Mike felt his boxer briefs grab his junk one more time before they decided to peel away as well.

"No, please don't," Mike said between laughs. "I'll be totally—" He gasped, looking down at his naked lower half as his boxer briefs reformed to his shape, standing next to the empty female cop uniform. "—nude..." The latex gloves let up on his armpits. One swung behind him and slapped his bare bottom, and the other gently grabbed his dick near the tip of his shaft. "Oh, god...what have we gotten into?"

"Hey, if our clothes are doing this, doesn't that mean there's at least one chick in her underwear and a naked lady cop somewhere around here?" Steve asked as he watched Mike's sneakers and socks walk toward him. Mike's jeans took strides of their own, hovering a few inches off of the grass as they approached Steve from another angle. "What's with your clothes, dude? Do they want to wear me or something?" Steve looked up at Mike, who was far too distracted to respond.

He moaned into his shirt, which had inverted on him and was squeezed against his upper chest, massaging his trapped biceps and forearms. The cuffs were still attached to his wrists, but it was his shirt supporting most of his body weight. He could barely see through the fabric, but it didn't matter. His face was bright red as he was jerked off by ghostly gloves in a public park. Even if there wasn't a crowd around to see him, Steve was only a few meters away witnessing it all.

"Whoa, no fair!" Steve said, his cock jumping a little in response as he watched Mike. "I get dumped in the river and you get a sexy lady ghost-cop hand job?"

"Steve, you have to get help!" Mike cried. The latex glove kneading his ass wound up and swatted him on the butt again. "Ow! Pleeeeease let me go!" Despite Mike's protests, he could feel himself getting hard. Steve noticed it too, and was so transfixed by the possibilities of a ghostly hand job that he didn't see Mike's white socks hover out of his animated shoes and drift up toward his face. He was trying to think of ways of convincing At the last second he looked toward the things, which placed their arches on either side of his nose.

"Hey, what the fuck?" Steve shouted, losing his footing as he reached up to grab the ghostly feet. He fell backward toward the river bank, expecting to fall right back into it. To his surprise, he was caught — straddling the lap of Mike's hollow jeans. One of his hands stayed clamped to a filled out sock, trying to pull it away from his face as the other explored the cushion he landed on. As he traced his fingers over a side seam and the start of a pocket, he realized he was sitting on Mike's animated jeans. He gasped as they flew him into the air, hovering up the riverbank and taking him back toward Mike and the empty police uniform. The toes of Mike's socks wiggled against Steve's face as he raised both hands to the hollow feet again, still trying to pull them away from him. "Mike, tell your stupid socks to get off of me!"

"Like I have..." He gasped, "ANY control over this?!" Mike yelled, trying to look down at his fully-extended member through the fabric of his shirt. "You were the one that wanted to bug a pair of capris running around on their o--ohhhhh...fuck." The latex, or nitrile--whatever the glove was--it was almost frictionless, teasing his cock perfectly, holding him with just enough grip and pulling him just hard enough. The one at his ass wasn't so much whaling on his cheeks anymore as it was gently tracing fingertips over them, groping or pinching him here and there to keep his nerves guessing.

"Wh-what's that thing?" Steve asked. Mike turned in his direction, but still couldn't see through his shirt. "Hey, that's...whoa." He sounded like he might actually be enjoying himself until he realized something. "WAIT. Man, am I fucking your SHOE?" Mike's living shirt pulled the inverted neckhole over his eyes, finally letting him see what was going on.

"What the hell do you want from us?!" Mike said, his shock renewed by what he was seeing. His line of questioning quickly went from the esoteric to the pragmatic. "Uh, you're not going to let him cum in my shoe, are you?"

"Man I'm not gonna cum in your damn sh..." Steve bit his lip, shuddering a bit. "Daaaaaamn." His eyes rolled back a little. He kept a hold of the solid ankles of Mike's socks as they pulled away from his face and hovered toward his chest, toeing his nipples. Steve moaned a little.

"Steve!" Mike scolded.

"Man, it's not because it's YOUR shoe and socks, it's just...it's--"

"Good." Mike struggled to admit it, being that it broke every reasonable rule he knew about reality. He looked down at the rubbery glove jerking him off.

"Uh...huh," Steve concurred, feeling the toebox of Mike's sneaker press against his cock. The shoe was half unlaced, and it used the excess slack to tickle his thighs and his waistline while the loose tongue cradled and held his throbbing monster. Steve actually let go of the socks' ankles now, letting them both hover in front of his nipples and tease against his skin. His jaw dropped as he reached for the socks again, this time running his fingers along the contours, massaging the arches and tickling their soles as if there were feet inside. The animated socks reciprocated by scrunching their toes, pinching Steve's nipples and making him moan. "Whoa," Steve said, opening his eyes to see the tight white capris grinding their butt against Steve's own escaped outfit. They had apparently wandered over from the gazebo while the boys were being messed with. "How long have you two been...watching?"

Mike watched as the lady cop's outfit turned around. The well-filled uniform pants swiveled from side to side, drawing Mike's attention as the rest of the outfit bent over, showing the stretching seam between the invisible lady cop's plump ass cheeks. He heard a belt undoing itself, and soon after, her accessory patches and gear drifted a short distance away before wrapping around an invisible waist, where they met back up with a retracting baton and a disarmed taser.

Mike didn't follow the belt, though. He was fixated on the phantom rear-end in front of him. The glove that had been playing with his butt hovered in front of him, making a few quick gestures in the air before showing him a comehither motion. Suddenly Mike no longer felt the grip of gravity anywhere on his body, and his entire body reclined until he was parallel to the ground, at least 4 feet in the air. His handcuffs unlocked and sailed away with his shirt, meeting up with the accessory belt.

Now the hat joined the accessory belt, along with the officer's socks and boots. The gloves that had been playing with Mike retreated to join up with this new creation, which approached Steve.

"Um, Mike? Are you flying?" Mike swung his arms in the air little, trying to steady himself, but unable to control the direction or orientation of his hovering body. He was still in control of his limbs, but his body was hovering free of any assistance from the brought-to-life clothing they encountered.

"I think she's doing it somehow!" he watched the lady cop uniform struck strut around him as if surveying him in the air. Suddenly the buttons of the shirt came undone one after the other, revealing a black tank top. The shirt simply slid away, apparently without the need for the sleeves to trail down invisible arms. The tank top lifted from the shoulders directly, sliding off of a well-filled nude bra.

"Whoa…" Even as Mike's socks kept playing with him, Steve watched the apparently invisible police officer undress. "Come on, he gets to fuck sexy Officer Invisible and I get—" Steve gasped as he felt a flick against his ear. he looked over to see the hovering gloves, hat, belt, socks and boots next to him. "Sexy...Officer Invisible?"