Spread into her Clothing

Like an invisible mucous, his weakened form slowly drizzled out of the phone, taking the path of least resistance. His form slowly collected in her pants pocket, becoming entwined in the fabrics. Instead of seeing the world through the phone, he now knew the dark, rustling world of her pocket, making him delirious in the process.

Peter felt a energy surge through him. From the leg of the responder emanated a nourishing wave of delicious warmth, which made his form grow more cognizant and powerful with every moment. And, much like water to a fish, it was addictive in the most base sense.

As Peter would discover, this metaphysical **** was present in everything. In inanimate objects it was static and rigid, unopposed to the physical form. In living things, it flowed through their form as a fluid, giving their physical form the cohesion, intention, and purpose required for life. A body without this **** is without the will to live, and this **** without the body is... Peter. A formless conception of existence, destined to evaporate into nothingness.

Usually, that is.

Without even thinking, Peter's form expanded, overtaking the legs and the pelvic region of the pants, becoming integrated with it. From the pockets to the buttons, each part of the pants became a part of himself, like an extra arm or leg. Finally, he calmed down, superimposed on the pants. Whew, that's a relief he thought to himself, seeing the world through his new eyes, the rivets in the front pockets. At this moment, his body was being loaded into an ambulance, the responder assisting with the loading. Well, looks like I am gone for good...

The pants themselves were plain, beige, work pants; however, the figure they caressed was nothing short of phenomenal. Between her toned legs, her bounteous buttocks, and her pronounced mons pubis, all intimately shifting underneath his form with her every movement, Peter quickly found it hard to maintain his composure. Unwilling to break his embrace with her lower-half, The pants began to fold run up her curves.

Having placed the cellphone in an evidence bag and walking back to the ambulance, the responder suddenly halted and began tugging at her pants.

"You got a wardrobe malfunction there, Alice?" the other responder asked, half-serious half-joking.

"I'm Ok Al... should've been more diet-conscious during the Holidays." Alice responded, trying to flatten the multiplying creases on her wardrobe.

Al, being a sagacious man, said nothing. They both got into the ambulance, and started off for the hospital.

However, as soon as Alice sat down, Peter couldn't handle the sensation surrounding him. Possessing the pants, so too did the pants manifest his weaknesses. As Alice shifted her seat, the top button immediately became undone, the zipper yielding with little resistance.

"Shit!" Alice stammered, trying and failing to recompose herself. For whatever reason, the button did not seem to want to hold; furthermore, it seemed as if her pants had only become tighter.

Peter panicked. He was not still sure if he could be found out, and all this unneeded attention did not bode well.