sometime after the game…
A white long-sleeved polo shirt “sat” on the living-room floor, playing solitaire with the deck of cards used in the earlier game. The shirt wasn’t paired with pants, skirt, or any other type of bottom covering; it sat as if its torso was attached to the floor. The shirt’s sleeve would reach toward the deck, leading to a card floating up and placing itself either on one of the stacks or on the discard pile. The television droned on, but no one was really watching — Diane, who lived alone, was still at work, and the other items of clothing were elsewhere in the house.
Just then the shirt’s attention wandered a bit from its game, and it noticed a shopping bag resting on the couch. It didn’t have to move from its perch to examine the contents of the bag; it reached a sleeve toward the bag, which then floated toward the shirt, coming to rest on the floor next to it.
The shirt leaned toward the bag, noticing a scarf, a pair of black leather gloves, and other items in the bag. A sleeve reached inside, emerging with the scarf floating a few inches away from its end. It was silk, multicolored, with green dominating among swirls of white, orange, black, and other colors. And, it was huge — way too big to just wrap around someone’s head.
The shirt held the scarf out in front of it, and said aloud, “Hmm, nice scarf, but it’s not really Diane’s style. Is she gonna use this as a belt, or–”
“Who says it’s for Diane?” a voice replied. The shirt turned, rising from the floor to rest at the same level as when Diane wore it. It saw the black leggings approaching the couch.
“It’s not for Diane?” the shirt asked.
“I didn’t say that,” the leggings said with a chuckle. “Let’s just say it’s not just for her. Here, let me show you.”
The shirt reached toward the leggings, with the scarf floating a few inches from the end of the sleeve. The scarf floated away from the shirt, wrapping around a large unseen torso like a tube top and double-knotting itself above the leggings’ behind. The leggings bobbed up and down a bit, causing pronounced jiggling from the intangible breasts inside the scarf.
“I really don’t see Diane wearing me and this together,” the leggings said, “but I love this look. I’ll have to keep this in mind.”
“Me too,” said a voice from above the leggings. Unseen fingertips began lightly tracing random patterns across the front of the well-endowed scarf, triggering a gasp from the leggings. .
“Ooh,” the leggings purred. “You… you talk too?”
“Sure, why not?” the scarf said. “I was just waiting for my opening, that’s all.” Unseen hands and fingertips alternated between jiggling the shape of breasts inside the scarf and tweaking the nipple-shapes that began to poke out against the scarf’s surface.
“H-how am I feeling this?” the leggings squeaked. “You’re not even attached to me!”
“I have my ways,” the scarf purred, The interaction between the scarf and the leggings held the shirt’s undivided attention, so it didn’t notice the gloves floating up and out of the bag. But when the plastic holding the gloves together snapped, the sound drew the shirt’s attention, which turned to see the gloves filling out as if being pulled over invisible hands.
“Well, hi, there,” the shirt said. “Came to join the party?”
“Hi,” the gloves replied, in an alluring Mediterranean accent. “I thought you had forgotten there were other things inside the bag, so…” The gloves trailed off as their attention was also drawn to the floating scarf and the unseen hands squeezing the breast-shapes inside it.
“You like that?” the gloves asked the shirt.
“Looks like it should be fun,” the shirt said.
“Well, I might be able to help you with that,” the gloves replied, moving to the polo shirt’s chest to begin cupping and squeezing. The shirt joined the leggings in gasping and moaning. After a few minutes, the gloves said aloud, directing its words to the scarf, “It seems…strange that you’re doing that to yourself, and yet it’s the leggings that are moaning.”
“Not really strange,” the scarf answered. “I mean, I guess it’s like a human trying to tickle herself. She knows what’s coming, so it doesn’t have the same effect. I feel what I’m doing, but it doesn’t have the same effect on me that it has on Ms. Legs down there. You have a good point, though. I’m gonna try something…”
By this time the leggings were dancing, basically, in reaction to the unseen hands fondling and squeezing the scarf. Even the feeling of an occasional lone fingertip rubbing the inside of the swell of the nipple shapes — or even the back of the scarf, near the double knot — would elicit a yelp of approval from the leggings. But then additional unseen hands began squeezing the leggings’ behind, or rubbing their inner thighs, or dragging invisible fingertips up and down the shiny black calves, adding an occasional high-pitched giggle to the leggings’ moaning and yelping.
This went on and on for awhile, until the leggings collapsed onto the couch, without even being fully aware that there was a couch there. The unseen hands began to slow down their activity, though, until there was only light rubbing being felt along the front of the scarf, and occasional rubbing against the shiny thighs.
The gloves actually paid more attention to the scarf and leggings than it did to the shirt it was fondling, so the overall effect on the shirt wasn’t as great. Plus, the shirt hadn’t paired itself with any bottom, so there was no additional source of sensation for the shirt to feed on.
The scarf eventually stopped its ministrations, allowing the leggings to Ã¢Â€Â˜come down’ from all the sensation it was experiencing. It finally noticed the shirt’s lack of a paired bottom garment, and said to
the shirt said what it had thought earlier. “You know, you and I would make a cute pair. We should match up sometime — with or without Diane.”
“You really think so?” the shirt said. “Cause, to tell the truth, I was thinking the same thing.”
“Me too,” the gloves and leggings said in unison, leading to all four items laughing together.
“This was fun,” the shirt said, as the laughter died down. “We have to do this again sometime, and maybe bring some of the other girls into it.”
“Or maybe bring Diane into it,” the leggings said, setting off more giggling.
“I need to go back into the shopping bag,” the gloves said, when the giggling stopped. “She never took me out of the bag, so I should go back until she does.”
“Why?” the shirt asked. “Di knows we all move and talk and — enjoy ourselves.” That led to renewed giggles. “It won’t be a big deal if she sees you’ve already been out and about.”
“Maybe,” the gloves said. “But it’s just a funny thing with gloves, I can’t really explain it. It’s better if she finds me in the bag, until she takes me out. Even if she knows I’ve already been out.”
“I gotcha,” the leggings said. “We all have our little… preferences.” The leggings did a wiggle to punctuate “preferences” that set the scarf and its invisible contents to jiggling anew.
“Don’t do that,” the gloves protested, “or you’ll make me change my mind and break my own rule.” But the gloves were intrigued enough to float over to the other outfit, caressing a scarf-covered breast with one glove while at the same time squeezing a shiny spandex thigh with the other.
But as the gloves returned to the bag they came from, the scarf said, “I don’t have a rule like that.”
“Well then,” the shirt said, “let’s go upstairs and get to know each other a little better…”
As the items floated up the stairs, the shirt swung a sleeve towards the leggings’ butt, landing an unseen hand with a solid smack.
“Hey!” the leggings said. “I thought it was the scarf you wanted to get to know better.”
“I do,” the shirt said, “but it wasn’t the scarf doing all that wiggling and moaning back there…”