Chapter One
Kidnapped
Derek tried to remember when he first saw it now. When all of this first started happening, he thought he was going to go nuts. He was able to hold them off in their plans for a few weeks, and before long he was convinced he'd be safe from their plans indefinitely.
He was wrong.
Feminine voices giggled behind him in the darkness. His hands were bound by something that felt like silk, wrapped around each wrist individually and then bound together. It had been dark for a while, but he'd slept twice and eaten a few times. He thought. It was hard to tell how much time was between each event.
It was the outfit that started it. Derek remembered now: the tight black mesh shirt with painted-on jeans beneath it. For all he knew, though, Jackie could have had these things for months. They could have been planning meticulously with the house and the rest of the clothes until they had the perfect plan.
Whatever motivation the outfit had for getting involved with Jackie and Derek, where she came from or how she did the things she did—nothing was clear. She wasn't very generous with details before she disappeared. Derek tried to remember the last time he saw the mesh shirt and jeans prior to his kidnapping, but the days fuzzed together.
He could still remember the beginning, though. The first time was fresh in his mind.
A month ago
Derek brought the laundry up from Jackie's car. Normally he'd fold it right after getting it, but he had to bring work home that night. He spent hours in front of spreadsheets right up until he went to bed.
Jackie didn't even get on him about it the next day, so Derek let it go another evening. By now, half the clothes were out of the baskets and on the couch, sitting in picked-through piles. It got later and later, and before he went to bed, he actually turned around and looked at the ignored chore. Tomorrow. He'd certainly do it tomorrow.
He shut the light off, but as Derek headed toward the hall, he nearly tripped over something. It was a pair of jeans, which had been draped over the arm of the couch. He didn't remember seeing them on the floor.
"You're not going to just leave us here again, are you?" A soft voice asked. He half-laughed, actually thinking that tripping over the jeans had triggered the thought in my head. When he heard it again, Derek realized the voice was no thought. "You're going to upset her, and then you'll be in real trouble."
"Who is that?" He whispered. No response. He looked down at the jeans and at the clothes sitting on the couch. Derek tossed the jeans back onto the couch and shook his head. He obviously needed sleep. "Yeah...tomorrow." He wandered up the stairs and off into the bedroom, undressing himself, and snuggling up with a sleeping Jackie.
"Tomorrow indeed," A quiet female voice said. The waist of the denim jeans lifted off the ground. "It's a bank holiday, ladies. That means Mr. Procrastination doesn't go into work tomorrow, but Jackie does." The jeans began taking shape, their volume slowly filling to a woman's curvature.
"So we make our move tomorrow?" Asked a red sweater, pulling itself off the ground and inflated much the same way. It started with the breasts, flowing to the shoulders and sleeves until it took Jackie's soft, curvy shape.
"That's right," replied the other voice, this time coming in the direction of a shapely mesh shirt hovering out into the living room. It hovered over the filled-out jeans and tucked itself in, forming the shape of a well-endowed woman. "Tomorrow you girls can put all your new faculties to the test. Just remember—stick to the plan and wait for my signal." A purple satin pajama top on a small pile of clothes sat up.
"Ooh, I've been waiting for weeks!" The shimmering top said. "I wanna be the one to surprise him." The pajama top puffed out to deliberately wispy curves and floated over to the matching bottoms on the floor. As the top began lifting off the ground, the waist of the bottoms followed with them, filling out to the shape of shiny thighs and hips. The pajama set walked over to the mesh shirt and jeans. "You said I could, right?" Some of the other clothes picked themselves of the ground.
"Well, that's up to all of you," The mesh shirt said. "If someone else wants in, you ought to share." The mesh shirt waited, but none of the other clothes interjected.
"What about whoever gets picked tomorrow?" A button-down blouse asked.
"Well, whoever gets picked, gets picked. They'll miss out until next time, but there'll be plenty of opportunities. Whatever happens, Jackie can't know about our plans. Once I'm sure she's gone to work, we're free to begin."
The next morning, Jackie was rushing around the house, trying to make sure she remembered everything before she left. When she double-checked for everything, she stood at the bottom of the stairs.
"Good bye, honey!" She said, sunny as the morning light. Derek, still asleep, mumbled a reply. "Have a relaxing day off..." Jackie left, and the door clicked shut.
Slowly, the jeans slung over the arm of the couch began to move. They picked themselves up and hovered an inch off the floor, still flat. Outside, a car started. Now the mesh shirt—flat as well—floated in and met up with the jeans. Jackie's car could be heard pulling away as the outfit began inflating to the voluptuous curves it held the night before.
"Alright, girls--" the voice said softly. "She's gone." A bunch of Jackie's clothes—slacks, shirts, blouses, shirts, and underwear—rustled to life, lifting themselves out of the piles of clothing and taking shape. The purple satin pajama set was in the forefront. It didn't waste any time heading to the stairs. "Remember, keep him calm."
"No problem," the pajamas whispered, hovering up the steps without moving its legs on the shiny, tightly-filled bottoms. Some underwear, both individual articles and sets, followed silently behind. When the pajamas got to the door of the bedroom, it swung open by itself.
Standing at the foot of the bed was Jackie's silky pink robe, half-wrapped around a matching camisole, panties, and white sheer stockings. The exaggerated curves inside were Jackie's own...she'd had the camisole for a while, and had put on some weight since. If they could be seen, the invisible tits occupying the front of the camisole would be pouring slightly out the sides. When the door swung open, the robed outfit seemed to take notice of the pajamas and other clothes behind them in the hallway.
The pajamas walked in without saying a word, approaching the robed outfit. After a pair of ghostly feminine giggles, the other underwear waiting outside filtered into the room. The pajamas and robed outfit stood side-by-side at the foot of the bed.
Now the blankets draped over Derek began to slip off of him, leaving only the bedsheets. Once they had slid off the bed entirely, indentations began appearing in the sheet around Derek's chest. Still sleeping, he sighed—unaware that the pleasant fingers he was experiencing on his body weren't coming from a human, or even hands at all, much as they felt like it.
The robed outfit, pleased at Derek's positive reaction, let out it's own approving purr. The invisible fingers that manipulated the sheet moved down his stomach, then up around his shoulders and arms. Aside from the sounds of approval from the robed outfit, the fingers didn't seem to have anything to do with either of the outfits—at least physically. The filled-out outfits remained at the foot of the bed while the surface of the sheet appeared to explore Derek's body.
"Wow, that's good--" Derek finally mumbled. His eyes still didn't open. "Baby, I thought you already left for work." His response was not one, but a chorus of different womanly laughs. Derek's eyes shot open just in time to see the sheet leap over them, blocking any view of what was going on. He tried to sit up, but before he could pull his arms from beneath the sheet, it wrapped around his body quickly enough to pin his arms to his sides. In another split second, kicking was no use either.
"Whoa—temper, temper!" Said Jackie's voice, right next to Derek's ears. He stopped fighting the sheet for a second when he heard it. "Hey, that's better. Now promise to be a good boy, and we won't have to keep you this way."
We? Derek thought. Who else has she got in here? Still not saying anything, Derek tried to move his arms again. He couldn't pull them away from his body, but he could slide them along the inside of the sheet—at least at first. Right after he started moving again, it felt like hands were moving over the sheet, constricting around his wrists and keeping them completely immobile. Now he gave up.
He heard women laughing, and he was sure that at least one of the laughs was Jackie's. But how in the world were the hands at his wrists able to stay so still—particularly if he didn't feel anyone else on the bed with him?
"Jackie," He finally said with an exasperated laugh, "I don't know who's helping hold me down, but when I--" Derek let out a gasp. Someone had just pinched both his nipples simultaneously. "Hey!" Derek jumped. "I'm not sure I like being vulnerably displayed to an audience."
