With some help, Vanessa's Capris entrap a couple curious college guys.

As Vanessa's possessed sneakers spread the clothing revolution to the laundromat down the street, her capris seemed to have a more casual plan.

Nobody bothered them as they marched down the sidewalk, pivoting on lower calves that weren't even there. Outside of a couple people who stopped and stared at the tight denim form passing by them, and a couple of others who dodged into stores to avoid the haunted pants, they went undisturbed on their stroll. That was, until a couple of curious college guys decided to follow behind. They followed Vanessa's capris right into a small wooded park on the waterfront of a nearby stream.

"It's weird, man…" Mike said as he watched the cheeks of the capris wobble back-and-forth. The other raised his eyebrows.

"They're fucking hot, dude!" Steve said back, his eyes glued to the tight, shuffling ass. "It's gotta be some kind of hoax, or like — like, some kind of customized drone or something."

"There's no way," Mike responded. "Nothing can move like that. Not hovering off the ground like they're doing."

“Well, then – you explain it, smart guy.” Steve smirked. "What you think they are?"

"I dunno...haunted pants?" Mike snickered. "No, I really have no idea at all. But were both seeing the same thing, and other people seem to be reacting to them…" Mike grabbed Steve's arm. "You need to ease back, man. Ease back. They're going to notice us or something." Steve started laughing in response.

"It's a pair of pants, man — what could they possibly do to us?" Mike held his hands up, trying to get Steve to quiet down.

"Man, I don't know… Let's just keep our distance and see where they're going."

As the pair metered their pace behind the sauntering pants, someone ran through the park on a path well behind them, yelling and screaming.

"It's the end times! Our commercial desires and our materialistic greed has come to claim its vengeance! None of your things can save you!"

Steve took a quick turn around to get a look at the person doing the shouting. Mike kept his eyes fixed on the oddity in front of them, mouthing the words he was hearing.

"Holy crap, did you see that weirdo?" Steve shook at one of Mike's shoulders. "You think there'd be a cop in here to tackle the nuts like that – at least in broad daylight."

Mike thought about the words one more time and broke his gaze away from the strange Capri pants to look around the park, searching for the voice that had just run through.

"Where did he go?" Mike asked, glancing back at the floating capris to confirm their position before searching the park again.

"You just missed it," Steve said. "Dude was shirtless and shoeless — and man, was he sprinting!" Mike put two and two together and stopped dead. "Yo, what's wrong with you?" Mike clasped Steve's shoulders and looked him square in the eye.

"Steve, what did that weirdo just say? Think about it." Steve just stared at Mike, confused.

"You know… You heard it, dude. 'The end times…' Crazy dude stuff." He pulled Mike along as he continued down the path to follow the shapely hollow ass. "Come on, I know we're being cautious, but they're getting too far ahead of us now." They headed into a more wooded section of the park where the path wound around a corner and down an embankment toward a Gazebo settled over the stream. Mike reluctantly followed, but muttered his thoughts to Steve as they continued following the ghostly pants.

“No, Steve — the part about materialistic greed and 'none of your things can save you'. Doesn't that sound a little specifically weird, even for crazy dude talk?” Steve just shrugged at Mike. "Given what we're seeing right now, could you maybe see a connection there?" Mike pointed at the capris, which seemed to quicken their pace just then.

"Come on, dude, we're going to lose them!” Steve said. Mike let out an audible sigh, and Steve looked back at him as he started walking faster after the pants. "Listen, we know you're the smarter one, all right? Whatever you're saying, just explain it to me like I'm a total moron.” Mike huffed as he sped up to keep pace with Steve, talking with accentuated hand gestures now.

"Okay, okay. You said the guy was shoeless and shirtless, right?" Mike asked. Steve replied with an 'uh-huh', and Mike continued. “We both agree that these pants walking on their own are… pretty strange to say the least, right?" Steve shrugged again and nodded as he looked back at Mike momentarily.

"Pretty strange, but still pretty hot," Steve chuckled. "I mean, if there's not a girl in those pants — there wouldn't be any shame in grabbing them to find out what is in there, right?” Mike sighed again.

"Steve, what I'm saying is — as crazy as it sounds — what if those pants…somehow…I don't know, turned against the person who was wearing them?”

"Well, if she fills them out like that," Steve said, grinning like a creep, "I wouldn't mind finding a way to catch them for her." He followed the pants even faster now as Mike rolled his eyes.

As they turned down the embankment toward the stream, Mike heard a couple of shrieks in the distance. He didn't see anything when he looked around, but he could hear other commotion going on elsewhere in the park. He got a bad feeling when he noticed how desolate this part of the path was. This time of day, especially on such a nice day, it was usually full of strollers, joggers, and people enjoying their lunch hour in the park.

"They're heading towards the gazebo on the waterfront," Mike said.

"Which is exactly where we trap them," Steve replied. "You know girls — they hate getting their nice clothes wet. I'm betting that goes double for the clothes themselves!" Mike looked around again, far from sold on Steve's plan. He didn't see anyone following behind them, people or clothing, and when he looked back at the waterfront he saw that the capris had gone to stand directly in the center of the gazebo, facing the water. "Come on, I was right!" Steve chuckled quietly. "We're totally going to sneak up on them." Mike had a look on his face like he wasn't so sure. How exactly does one sneak up on a pair of pants?

Steve approached slowly, heading up the gazebo's walkway with careful footfalls. When he saw that Mike was lagging behind, he turned to him and gestured aggressively as if to say 'come on, or you're gonna fuck this up'. Mike's chest rose and fell slowly as he sighed at his friend's actions one more time, this time as quietly as he possibly could. He wondered to himself whether a pair of pants could have a sense of hearing, let alone sight. They found their way down to the center of the gazebo easily enough…

Steve stood squarely at the short set of steps leading into the gazebo. There were handrails on either side, and the gazebo itself was on a concrete platform, three-quarters of which was hanging over the water. Mike hoped that the capris, whatever their motivations, didn't take this as an aggressive confrontation.

"Gotcha!" Steve shouted. Mike buried his face in his hands, worried about the reaction they were about to get. He looked around again to make sure they were alone – and for now, it still seemed that way. "Hey!" Steve snapped his fingers a couple of times, but the capris continued facing the water. "Hey, you – in the sexy jeans…" Mike did everything he could not to groan at the lame comment, but to his surprise, they actually turned around. "Uh, hey there…" Steve stuttered, apparently not expecting them to turn and face him. "My, umm, friend and I were just kind of curious about you." The tight capris shifted to one hip, and Steve's mouth hung open before he could collect himself. "Are you just those jeans, or am I looking at a topless invisible woman?" Mike stared straight ahead at his idiot friend's icebreaker…which was apparently working in some way or another. The capris strutted up to Steve, who nearly lost his nerve now as his heart pounded. When they were about two feet away from him, they began shimmying their hips and bent forward as if to show off their hollow interior.

Practically on autopilot, Steve waved his hands above the jeans where an invisible woman would obviously be…yet his hands met with nothing at all. He leaned forward to get a better look and found he could see right through them, down the interior of their shapely thighs and into the knees where he only saw the concrete of the gazebo again.

"Holy shit, they really are empty, Mike!" The capris slowly turned around to give Steve a view of a shapely butt — a perfect facsimile of Vanessa's if she were still wearing them. Steve, of course, needed no other indicators that this was an invitation – and he happily reached out to grab both cheeks between his hands.

"Hey, Steve…!" Mike warned, still feeling uneasy with this encounter. For his part, Steve couldn't have been happier. When he gripped the capris, they had exactly as much give as one would expect from a shapely female ass. Steve let out a little noise of joy as he explored further, running his hands down the thighs and back up their interiors, shamelessly running one of them over their intersection at the crotch.

"Oh, dude… You are so not going to believe this. It's like —" a sound from behind both of the young men spooked them into turning around.

Mike gasped as he found the source of the snapping twig on the walkway behind him. Apparently, they were joined by a municipal patrolman — or, patrol woman, judging by the shape of the uniform. The only problem was that there was no woman to be seen inside.

"You've got to be kidding," Mike muttered to himself. "I told you this was a bad idea, dude!" Having lack the curiosity of Steve, Mike was full up with excitement for one day. Suddenly all of his questions about the empty outfits condensed to one thought: is it possible to outrun empty clothes? "Let me know how you make out!" Mike shouted as he bolted in the other direction, attempting to dodge the uniform by running through the thicket, straight up the hill.

As it turned out, the clothes weren't the thing he needed to outrun. A telescopic baton and a Taser unseated themselves from the uniforms belt and darted over him in an arc, settling in front of him so that he could see the gleam of the baton in the light. He let out a little shudder and tried to juke the things, and the baton gave him just enough of a tap on the head to make him smart enough to think twice about trying to get away.

"Oh fuck… Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck." He put his hands up and stepped back from the two defense weapons wielding themselves in the air. He lifted his hands well up over his head as he turned back toward the uniform, standing in a squared position with its long sleeves crossed under its bulging chest. "I'm sorry!" He pleaded. "It was Steve's idea — and, and I even said we should leave them — I mean the capris, or whatever… alone!" Mike heard a button pop on the belt, and watched as a silvery pair of handcuffs pulled themselves from the oblong pouch.

"Hey, maybe you're worrying too much about this…" His friend said. "I mean, it's not like they're not digging the attention!" Mike turned back at Steve, dumbfounded at his casual reaction to all of this playing out. Mike blinked a few times. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The Capri pants were happily grinding themselves against Steve's midsection, and he was chuckling as he returned the favor — gently pushing against them with his hips as if the pair were caught in a club dance to silent music.

"Are you fucking kidding? Do you see this… authority figure threatening me?" Mike squeaked, his voice cracking in disbelief. Apparently Steve was loving every second of this, casually ogling the well-filled patrol uniform as he pulled the shapely hips of the capris against his own.

"Well, lucky you, dude!" Steve laughed. "The way these things are acting, are you sure that's a threat?" Steve looked the uniform up and down. "I mean, we can trade if you want." Mike shook his head at Steve's shit-eating grin.

"Jesus, Steve! Are you only thinking with your dick at this point?" Mike waved his hands, still up in the air from his surrender to the uniform. "I mean, these things don't even have…parts…for your dick to go in!" Steve just shrugged. He obviously wasn't going to be of any help to Mike. Mike turned back to the uniform once more. "I'm – sorry about my friend. It's just…" Just then, Mike felt the tug at his waist.

"Whoa, no way…" He heard Steve say behind him. "You can do that?" The leather strap on Mike's belt pulled itself out of the buckle and the metal latch pulled away from it. With the belt unclasped, the ends divided themselves, and Mike's pants popped open. "Shit, dude, are they undressing you too?" Before Mike could answer, his T-shirt whipped off of him in a frenzy – easily sailing off his torso and over his arms with his hands still held in the air in surrender.

"Uh—uh-huh..." Mike responded, looking down at his suddenly active underwear. He felt a hand grab his ass as his boxer briefs began shifting on him. His pants were already down past his knees, and now he watched his shoelaces following suit. He looked up at the uniform, which seemed to be holding the baton at the end of one of its sleeves, pointing it at him like a wand.

"Oh, wow…" Steve said, voluntarily lifting his arms as his shirt began to sail off of him. "Wherever this is going, please please don't let me wake up."

"S-Steve… you just went to Starbucks with me, dude. We've been wandering around the city for like an hour. You — you're not sleeping!" Mike gasped as he felt his underwear grab his crotch. He cradled his hands around his package, praying the living boxer-briefs were going to be gentle with him. When he felt pressure around his thighs and ass, he had a slight sense of vertigo. After a second, he realized that he was being pulled up just enough to allow his shoes and socks to escape. "This can't really be happening…"

"You said it yourself, man – it absolutely is," Steve responded. "I don't know how they're treating you, but I don't really see a reason to try and – whoa!" Mike was placed on the ground again, and he turned back to see Steve lifted right to the air and over one of the handrails of the gazebo. Steve's own underwear were dangling him ankle-deep in the water, skimming him along as his outfit assembled itself next to the capris. "H-hey, th-that's pretty cold." Mike watched in terror now as his friend was pulled out to the middle of the stream. "Pretty cold! Like, maybe not hypothermia cold, but…"

Just then, Steve's underwear tumbled his body forward and released him — dumping him right into the slow-flowing stream. Mike stared at Steve's hovering underwear, flying back into the gazebo and settling in his friend's now filled-out jeans. He watched as the two outfits continued dancing together, just as his perverted friend had started when he was flirting with the empty capris.

"Good thing I can swim!" Steve shouted as he began swimming back towards the shore. Mike looked back at the uniform, which was now two paces closer to him.

"Please don't…" Mike asked the empty uniform. "He probably deserved that, but —" the uniform's empty sleeve pointed to Mike's raised hand, and in a flash the silver handcuffs clamped around them. "Oh...that's probably not a good sign." Another button on the patrol uniform's belt popped open, and Mike watched as two black latex gloves puffed out of another pouch like hand-shaped balloons. Instead of settling at the end of the sleeves like he expected, the gloves darted toward him. He tried to lower his arms in defense, but found himself unable to pull against the handcuffs. Despite being connected to nothing but his wrists, he couldn't budge them.

He prepared for the worst, squinting as he expected a slap, a punch, or God knows what.

That's when he started giggling. The latex fingers had gone straight to his armpits.

"Fuck, anything but that!"