Marco and Jeanie had been dating for around a year now, with... Well, with admittedly less than what could be called success. It really wasn't Jeanie's fault, she was just a little boring for Marco's tastes.

So it was only natural that he'd find someone else; would be with someone a little better for him. And this new girl, Carrie, was something else entirely!

Unfortunately for him, he hadn't exactly broken up with Jeanie yet, something that he was looking to fix now. She'd asked him to meet with her at the department store where they'd first met.

It was almost poetic, a place that was the birth of their relationship would also be the death of it. Marco was leaning on a post by the women's jeans, his hands in his pocket and an easygoing smile on his face as his phone continued to stream some light rock.

The song in his ears ended, and he pulled his right hand from his pocket to check his watch for the time.

Though he might not look it, he was on a schedule. He'd break up with Jeanie; then see Carrie later that afternoon for a movie and dinner at her place. It was the perfect plan, and nothing could go wrong—except for the fact that Jeanie was running a little late.

Marco checked his watch again, frowning. It was 12:15, just like the last time he'd checked... He blinked in mild confusion, looking closer at his timepiece. He'd checked the time a few minutes ago, so why hadn't it changed?

Sure enough, the second hand of his watch was frozen, stuck in place. Marco sighed, pushing himself off of the post and clicking off his music.

There was a woman holding some shopping bags nearby; he could ask her how late it was. He smiled, heading up to her casually. “Hey, sorry to ask this, but can you spare the time? My watch is dead...”

The young man trailed off as he realized that the woman didn't so much as respond to his presence. More importantly, she didn't seem to be moving at all.

“Um... Hello?” Marco waved his hand, a feeling of worry beginning to settle in his chest as she didn't so much as blink. “Are you okay?”

She didn't wave, and Marco turned to look for help. “Hey, is anybody else seeing this?”

If they did, they weren't responding. Marco's gut sank as he realized just how quiet the mall was. Normally there was the squeak of shoes; the murmuring of voices; even some annoying background music. But now... It was all still, as quiet as the grave.

A female voice broke the haunting silence. “I was wondering when you'd notice.”

Marco jumped in surprise, turning to the source with a startled look on his face that soon died. “Jeanie! So good to see you here!” He laughed, relieved. “I take it that all of this is your doing?”

She nodded with a grin. “Of course it is, sweetie.” The way she said the word made it sound like 'asshole'.

Marco frowned. “Something wrong?” This wasn't going to plan; he wanted her to be in a good mood before he broke her heart!

“Hm? Oh, nothing's wrong with me. But I think something is very, very wrong with you.” Jeanie scowled at Marco, her eyes flashing dangerously.

Marco blinked in confusion. “Honey, why are you talking like that? You sound a little... dramatic?” He hazarded the last word, arching his eyebrow slightly as he said it.

“Dramatic? Why would I not be dramatic when you're dating someone else!” Jeanie finally snapped, stomping her foot on the ground. “I trusted you; you said you loved me!”

“I did, but... I'm just not that into you anymore. Sorry, but... Sometimes people change.” Marco shrugged.

Jeanie's glare only hardened. “You'll find that to be a very poor choice of words.” She hissed, crossing her arms.

“How so?” Marco couldn't help but ask, a grin on his face. “Does this have something to do with everyone being 'frozen'?”

Jeanie nodded. “As a matter of fact, it does.” She laughed mirthlessly. “I can tell from the look in your eyes that you don't quite get what's going on yet.”

Marco smirked. “Oh, I get what's going on. You got a bunch of your friends to make it seem like time was frozen. One of those flash mob things, right?” He chuckled, walking over to the frozen shopper.

“Not quite.” Jeanie smirked. “Why don't  you try poking her to see if she'll move?”

Marco rolled his eyes. “Well thank you very much for the suggestion. Of course that's what I'm going to do.” He extended his finger, pushing literally through her shoulder.

The young man jumped in surprise, his eyes widening as he waved his hand through the woman's frozen body again. “W-what?” He stammered, his mouth falling slack. “What's going on?”

“What's going on? Figure it out.” Jeanie scoffed from behind him.

He waved his hands through the woman again. There was no dust, no bending of the light to suggest that this was some kind of projected image. She was a real person, and he was pushing right through her, just like some sort of ghost.

“Am I... Am I dead?” Marco hesitantly asked. It was the most ludicrous assumption he could get to, but Occam's Razor existed for a reason.

“No, but you'll soon wish you were.” Jeanie smirked. “You see, I'm a witch.” She paused, and Marco realized that she was waiting for him to acknowledge her statement.

“I believe you.” He said slowly.

“Who's breaking up with you because you're a cheating asshole.” Jeanie added, and Marco realized what she was getting at.

“Oh no. No, no, no. Please, whatever you're thinking, just... Don't.” Marco raised his hands pleadingly. “You want me to change, I can change again.” He pressed his hand to his chest to show his sincerity.

“I know you can. I'm a witch, remember?” Jeanie smiled, her first honest smile with him in weeks.

Marco gulped. “Okay, I see what you mean by a very poor choice in words, but I would really rather stay who I am. No frogs, no snakes, no newts. Just leave me be and I promise you I'll find  away to make things right.”

To his surprise, Jeanie laughed. “Newts? You're thinking a little inside the box there, aren't you? No, I think I have a much better idea.” Her hands glowed as she approached Marco.

He backed away uneasily, his heart pounding. He could try to run... But where to? Had she frozen his whole world like this? If so, he'd be living the rest of his life stuck in this one moment, unable to interact with anything. He'd probably starve to death within the week.

Jeanie grinned as Marco stopped moving. He looked up to her pleadingly. “Can I at least know what you're going to do to me, so I can prepare for it?”

“Like you prepared me for you going on a date with 'Carrie'? No.” Jeanie pressed her hands against either side of Marco's head, the glowing from her hands invading his body.

Marco's heart hammered as he felt an odd tingling all over his body. It was like his whole body was being charged with energy, the tingling coursing through his form. Then he felt his body go slack, his muscles all giving way.

He was falling! Marco tried to shout but no words escaped his mouth. The ground loomed ever-closer, and Marco's baggy pants were seeming to increase in size, as though they were swallowing him up.

With a start, the young man realized that he was somehow falling into his clothes, his body getting lighter and lighter. He crumpled in a heap within his jeans, feeling his shirt fall atop him as his body twisted and reformed.

Whatever form Jeanie had cursed him into was a confusing mess of sensation, his whole body somehow able to fit just barely within his pants. He felt oddly empty, and his skin felt tough.

Then, light broke through, filling his world, and Marco saw Jeanie looming over him, a smile on her face. His shirt was in her hand, and she tossed it aside carelessly, smirking at her ex.

“Perfect.” She said, reaching within Marco's pants and pulling him out.

As she tugged, Marco could feel his body somehow elongating, like he'd been crumpled into a heap and she was straightening him out. He felt about half the size he'd been before, and from the way Jeanie lifted him, he couldn't be very heavy.

Mind racing, Marco tried to figure out what Jeanie had made him become. He could see—yet it was an odd sort of vision in that he could see almost from every part of his body. His sense of hearing was of no use, and his smell, touch, and taste were all focused on something cloth-like. He was totally stumped, having no idea as to what he'd become.

Then Jeannie held him up to a mirror, and Marco screamed silently. He was a pair of women's jeans.

Somehow, impossibly, Jeanie had changed him into a sleek pair of denim jeans, complete even with an embroidered rose on his back pocket.

His back pocket!

Now that Marco knew what he was, he could identify the odd feelings in his body. That emptiness was the feeling of the insides of his legs brushing against one another; the strange feelings along his skin were his stitching; the soft holes in his sides were cotton pockets.

“You like that?” Jeanie breathed, running her hands along his body.

Marco would have moaned in pleasure if he could. Being touched was incredible; it was like it was his only purpose. He had a sudden urge to be worn, and he mentally pleaded with Jeanie. 'Please, put me on!'

His girlfriend laughed. “No, I don't think I will. It's poor show for a seamstress to wear her own handiwork.”

Marco quivered mentally. 'You can hear me?'

“Hm?” Jeanie smirked. “Yes, but don't expect anyone else to.”

'Why?'

She frowned at him, walking back to the stacks of neatly folded jeans. “I don't know... Call it a sense of needing closure; maybe a way that I could identify you if I wanted to restore you... Or maybe I just wanted to hear you beg me to come back.”

'Why would I ask for that?' Marco asked quietly.

Jeanie hummed happily, answering him with actions rather than words. She folded his body neatly, caressing his fabric as she straightened him out and pressed him into a small, neat bundle. Then she lifted some of the women's jeans, sticking him under some of his new kin.

'W-wait! No! You can't be serious! You can't leave me like this!' Marco begged, feeling the weight of the other jeans settle atop him. He looked out from the small visible crease of his body, seeing Jeanie smile.

“That's more like it.” She grinned, then knelt down to kiss his fabric. “Goodbye forever, Marco.”

With that, motion returned to the world and Jeanie vanished, taking all traces of Marco's existence with her.

'Jeanie? Jeanie! No! Please!' Marco whimpered, feeling his mind begin to fade. He was getting oddly sleepy, like being pressed under these jeans was a comforting blanket.

He tried to fight it, some part of his metaphorical brain realizing that this was because he was just clothes now. After all, what right did clothes have to remain conscious when they weren't being held or worn?

To his horror, Marco couldn't think of an answer, feeling himself begin to drift off. His thoughts were slowing, and he couldn't... Couldn't...

Light filled Marco's world, and he shivered internally as he realized that he'd somehow drifted off into what passed for clothes' sleep. He looked around, gauging his surroundings, and realized that there was a woman looking down at him.

It wasn't just any woman though; this was Carrie! 'C-Carrie!' Marco shouted mentally. 'Please, pick me! Don't leave me here!'

To his immediate relief, she reached into the pile, pulling him out with a small frown on her face. He could feel her fingers gently cupping his waistband, and Marco groaned with the relief of being held.

“Hm. I think you'll look great on my date tonight.” She smiled, looking down to the jeans.

'Yes! Wear me! I'm... Date tonight?' Marco paused. Wasn't he her date tonight? His thoughts turned into a mental yelp of surprise as Carrie tugged on his waistband, pulling his back closer to her eyes.

“Huh. No tag.” She shrugged, folding Marco over her arm and heading to the changing room. She stroked his fabric gently as she walked, humming contentedly. “You'd better make my ass look like a million bucks.”

Marco's mind raced. What was going on? He was Carrie's only date tonight! Unless Jeanie had somehow really written him out of existence... Was he that replaceable?

A sinking feeling in what passed for Marco's gut said yes. He shivered inwardly, only to pause as Carrie entered her changing room.

She grinned at the mirror, slipping off her skirt and revealing her smooth, creamy skin. Marco's fibers quivered with anticipation as Carrie kicked her skirt to the side of the room, pulling his waistband wide.

Then she entered him, her right leg filling his. Marco's world erupted into relaxing pleasure, like he'd just dipped into a hot tub. It felt so good to have her foot sliding into him, his fabric caressing her skin as she slipped him over one leg.

Then her other leg entered him and his mind erupted into even more pleasure. He was being worn; she was wearing him! The feeling was so incredible, a relaxing whirl of content.

Better yet, the more she pulled him up, the more snug Marco was around her, holding her thighs so close within him. It was insanely pleasurable and wonderfully relaxing, and Marco shivered with blissful content.

But the best was yet to come. He was especially tight around Carrie's pert bottom, and as she pulled him up he could feel his fabric stretching to his limits. The girl pouted, jiggling her hips slightly as she tugged Marco higher on herself, finally pulling him over her cushiony bottom.

As she did, she also pushed his front into her groin, unknowingly giving Marco a mouthful of her panties. It was incredible! She smelled so nice, felt so soft against his denim skin! The only shame was that she didn't realize who she was wearing.

“Stephen's gonna think I look so hot.” Carrie purred contentedly, running her hands along her butt, pulling Marco a little more snugly to her.

Marco's mind snapped away from the pleasure, focusing instead on her words. Stephen? Stephen? Jeanie really had somehow replaced him, even making sure Carrie had a new date tonight! Had his witch of an ex gone so far as to make sure that this happened? He suspected so, but all suspicions were blasted from his mind as Carrie began to walk.

Being put on was one thing, but being worn was something else entirely! Marco could feel her every muscle beneath his body; feel himself hugging her tightly as she stepped out from the room to admire herself in a full-length mirror.

To his delight, Carrie blushed happily and turned for the mirror. “Oh my God, this is perfect!” She beamed. “Well, almost perfect.” The girl chuckled, petting Marco's fabric gently.

Marco moaned mentally with pleasure, his stitching so snug around Carrie's body. He knew he should have questioned what she meant by that, but instead he was too focused on the pleasure of being worn, of being hers.

Carrie walked back to the dressing room happily, picking up her skirt and tossing it in a bag. “I think I like you so much, I'll need to wear you out!” She laughed, running her hands along her thighs, pressing Marco closer to her still.

'Please do.' Marco moaned contentedly, loving the pleasure she gave him with each and every step she took.

Carrie walked dutifully to the register, grinning as she sidled up to the counter. “Hi, sorry! I like this pair so much I think I'll keep it on. It didn't have a tag, so could you tell me how much it costs?”

“No tag?” The cashier blinked in surprise. “Well...” The old woman sighed. “Getting a new one is too much trouble for me. Consider this your lucky day; I'll charge you ten dollars for it, same as our clearance items.”

Carrie squeaked, bouncing up and down happily. Her every jump caused her pert butt to juggle tightly within Marco's body, and he groaned again. It was incredible how good it felt to be on Carrie; he might actually prefer this to being with her in person!

“Thank you so much!” Carrie beamed, grabbing her receipt and heading to her car.

“Hey, it's fine. Besides, they look good on you!”

'Yes I do.' Marco moaned smugly, relishing the pleasure of the girl wearing him to her car. Then he trembled mentally, trying to shake himself out of his stupor. What was he thinking? He wasn't just some pair of pants, he was a person! How could this be any better than being with Carrie in person; better than holding her and kissing her?

'Snap to it, Marco! What are you thinking, you're not just clothes!'

As if she was responding to this, Carrie sat down in her car, humming a happy tune. As she did, she pulled Marco even tighter to her, unintentionally mashing his face in her groin and breaking his concentration.

'Okay, this might not be all bad...' Marco groaned contentedly, loving the feeling of being so close to Carrie. It was even comfy to be sat on; her beautiful butt pressed perfectly into his body, making sure he was comfortably squeezing her.

The drive was the best in Marco's life, over far too soon. He quaked silently around her, silently praying she'd need to get back into the car to run another errand.

Sadly, that was not to be. Instead, she headed into her garage, humming to herself as she poured something into a large bucket atop her washing machine. Marco's curiosity was piqued, and he focused on the bottle, whimpering mentally as he realized it was bleach.

'No way! Carrie, you can't be serious, you just bought me!' He begged, watching her pull out some gloves. She laid them beside the bucket, then pulled Marco off of herself, holding him in her hands.

“Yeah, I can make this work.” Carrie nodded, her lips pursed as she no doubt imagined how to bleach her new jeans.

'I was already working for y-ah!' Marco yelped as she tossed him in the bleach-filled bowl. She slipped on her gloves, then pinched Marco's fabric tightly, swirling him around his plastic confines.

Marco's whole world spun, and he could feel his ink bleeding out from his body, washed away by the sudsy bleach. It stank, and he could feel its thick scent permeating every fiber of his cloth form.

“Now then... I think we're almost done.” Carrie lifted him from the bleach, and Marco groaned as he felt himself dripping the caustic liquid back into the tub. Then he yelped aloud in discomfort as she crumpled him up and squeezed him, wringing his wet fabric out into the bucket.

The girl then tossed him into the washer, pouring some soap in after him. It felt soft against him seeping into his cloth and relaxing it, and Marco realized that there must be some fabric softener in the detergent.

The lid slammed over him, surrounding the transformed man with darkness. Then a loud click filled the air, and a torrent of water cascaded onto Marco.

'Hey! Stop! I'm drowning here!' Marco pleaded, getting waterlogged from the filling machine. He could feel his body growing softer, too; the detergent relaxing him and coaxing out the last of the bleach.

Then the cycle clicked on, and Marco was twirled around the laundry machine, slamming into the sides and the central motor. He was dizzier than he'd ever been in his life, feeling beaten and abused.

And yet... The more he was hit against the sides of the machine, the looser he felt. It was less like a mugging and more like an intense pressure massage. It didn't mean he had to like it, but at least it wasn't leaving him with aches and pains.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the machine stopped and Marco breathed a sigh of relief. 'Thank God that's over with.'

A few minutes later the top opened, and Carrie smiled down at her new white jeans. “Almost done!” She chirped, dropping in a packet of something. Then she slammed the lid down again and the machine began to fill with water once more.

'Oh no... No, no, no...' Marco moaned. Then the torment began anew, his world spinning as he was tossed left and right; then around and around and around again.

This time it felt like something was washing into him, and Marco realized that the packet must have been a dye pack. He felt something sinking into all of his fibers, washing through his stitching and leaving him stained.

It was like his whole body was getting waterlogged, and he could feel himself getting heavier and heavier. Rather than the lightness of washing out the bleach, this new dye was making him feel full; heavy, even.

Finally, the cycle began to wind down, and the machine tossed around Marco a little more for good measure, beating out some of the weight of his soaked body. He mentally gasped for breath, feeling as though he'd just come off of one of the world's most intense roller coasters.

The door above him opened again, and Carrie smiled down at him with a grin. “Hello there, cutie!” She reached in and pulled out Marco, allowing him to see himself along the inside of his pant legs.

Marco was pink! And not just any pink, but a lightish Easter pink, completely at odds with what would usually be seen on jeans! The transformed man groaned internally, wishing that he could somehow tell Carrie of who he was.

Sadly, that was not to be. The girl instead tossed him into the dryer, grinning to herself as she tossed in a couple of dryer balls. “Hope you don't mind some company; I like my clothes nice and soft.”

'Oh, no. I'd love to be beaten around by a pair of spiky rubber baseballs.' Marco drawled mentally, yelping as she slammed the door, a loud click running through the machine.

'This had better not be as uncomfy as I think it is.' Marco groaned, feeling his new surrounding beginning to whirl. Marco whimpered mentally as he started to spin in earnest, the dryer balls banging into him again and again and again.

At first, it was torturous as he'd expected. His damp form was being assailed by the pair of baseballs from hell, bouncing into his body time after time. It felt like he was being mugged in a hot alley; a hot alley that also happened to be spinning him in dizzying circles again and again.

But then the moisture begin to dry from his form, leaving a warm and fluffy feeling in his body. It was like the dryer balls were massaging him, beating out all of the tired moisture in his fibers.

The rubber was coaxing his denim, and he mentally moaned as one of them slipped into his waistband, getting caught in his right leg. He could feel it inside of him, hot and round; relaxing all of his threads. He almost whimpered as it rolled out from the foot of his pants, bouncing around in the dryer aimlessly and occasionally bumping into him.

Then the dryer stopped its motion, and Carrie yanked open the door eagerly, pulling Marco away from his two new best friends. “And... Almost done.” She chirped, folding Marco under one arm and hugging him tightly to herself.

Marco groaned, settling into her embrace and loving how tightly he was being held to her. Life as clothes really was quite relaxing, and... He didn't entirely mind being pink. Especially if it meant that she'd wear him out more often.

Carrie laid him down on a plastic board with a grid on it, the girl humming happily to herself as she straightened Marco out, smoothing out his wrinkles with her hands. She looked down to him thoughtfully, and Marco grinned eagerly to himself.

No doubt the girl was wondering what he'd go with; what to wear her new favorite jeans with. Marco might not be entirely okay with living as a girl's jeans, but he had to admit that there was a thrill to making her look beautiful; making her look her best.

Carrie nodded to herself, as though she was cementing the decision in her mind. “I think I'm going to like my new pair of capris.” She said with a smile, turning to walk away from Marco.

Despite himself, Marco felt a pang of jealousy. All that and she was going to wear some other clothes? Was she just leading him on? 'Hey! What about your favorite pair of jeans?' Marco mentally screamed, calling out to her even though he knew she couldn't hear him.

Carrie returned a moment later with a small yellow object in her hand and a smile on her face. Just as Marco started to wonder what it was, the girl squeezed its handle and a small circular blade extended from its base.

Marco blinked, his mind trying to reconcile what he knew with what he was seeing. He was clothes. She was holding a clothes cutter. He was jeans. She wanted to wear capris. Oh. Oh no.

'Wait, wait, wait. Can't we talk about this?' Marco blanched, desperately trying to move his inanimate body. It was like trying to fight the tide; he didn't have so much as a single muscle to move his countless threads.

Carrie pulled on his waistband, neatly arranging him on the gridded plastic that he now realized was a cutting board. Marco shivered as the blade lowered to the board,  doing a few practice swipes along its lines.

He felt like he was in a James Bond movie; strapped to some sort of torture table. The man whimpered again, hoping that she'd reconsider. 'Come on, can't we talk this through?'

She didn't so much as acknowledge his thoughts—though he hardly expected her to. Instead, she grabbed his leg, pulling him taut as she deftly whisked the blade through his leg, curring a good chunk of it off.

The worse pain that Marco had ever felt in his entire life, the kind that would haunt him for years to come, filling his nightmares didn't so much as register for an instant. Rather, the feeling was like getting his hair cut. He could feel a part of himself being removed, but there was no real sensation to it; just a faint feeling that he weighed less.

Her blade snicked across his other leg and the process repeated itself. No pain, no real sensation. Just an odd feeling of being lighter.

“That wasn't so bad, was it?” Carrie grinned, setting the blade down and running her fingers along his new hemline to check for any loose threads.

Marco giggled mentally as the motion tickled him, his sensitive and exposed fibers almost begging to be stroked more.

The girl trailed her fingers along him once more, smiling as not so much as a single thread gave way. “You're really well-made, aren't you?”

'Well, I hate to brag.' Marco chuckled, moaning as she ran her hands along his new hem once more, folding him to have a longer cuff. He wondered what she was up to, then squeaked mentally as the girl drove some needles into his body, holding his new folds there.

This time he did feel it, an uncomfortable sensation like he had a splinter in his body. A very long, sharp, metal splinter. Marco tried to kick them loose but of course he couldn't cause the needles to so much as budge.

Thankfully, it seemed Carrie was in a speedy mood, and she folded him under an arm, making sure she didn't upset the folds she'd just made. He saw her pick up his shortened legs too, carrying all of him to a sewing machine in another corner of her room. Marco had no idea that Carrie was so handy! A pang settled into his heart as he realized that he'd never be with her again, and Marco began to fall into a deep depression.

The sadness was soon broken by surprise as Carrie slipped his severed hem along the newly folded cuff, putting some more pins in place to anchor it. Then she slowly slid him into the sewing machine, clicking it on with a loud whirring.

The rythmic thumping filled Marco's world, giving birth to the most unique sensation of his life. Marco could feel the thread entering his body, leaving it a moment later only to enter it again. And as the ring of new stitching worked its way into place, Marco realized that he could feel it becoming a part of himself.

He couldn't tell the new threads from his original fibers; it was like she was adding to his body! Even more fantastically, as his first pant leg was completed he could feel the once-severed part of his body become his once more. It was like she'd cut off his foot, then reattached it higher along his body with no repercussions!

Marco groaned with pleasure as Carrie slipped the needles from his first hemmed cuff. The girl smiled to herself happily. “Just one more leg, then you'll be all ready to be worn for our date tonight.”

'Oh, right.' The reminder that she was seeing someone else soured the moment, and Marco sulked as she stitched together his second cuff, removing the needles and carrying him to her room.

But he couldn't stay mad forever, and Marco soon was groaning in pleasure as the woman picked him up, slipping him on with a smile on her face. She pet his pink pockets with a grin, again tugging him over her ample bottom, sliding her so close to herself.

Marco groaned with pleasure, the feeling of being worn now heightened as he realized that his remade body was tighter yet somehow softer against Carrie's body. She grinned happily to herself, strutting over to her closet so she could see her new capris in her mirror.

'Oh my God.' Marco breathed, longingly looking at how elegant his new body was. It was like she'd cast some sort of spell, perfectly transforming him into a set of slim women's wear that fit her perfectly. Jeanie might have been a witch, but Carrie truly was magic!

Marco shivered with pleasure around her, hoping that he'd stay on her forever. For a  few long, perfect minutes, it was just he two of them. She was wearing him and he was being worn by her, a perfect and private union of souls.

Then: “Hey, ready for a night out?” A male voice called from the front of Carrie's house, and Marco could feel her pulse increase.

“You know it, sweetie!” Carrie grinned, and just like that the illusion was shattered.

Marco wasn't privately with her; she didn't find him any more special than any other pair of pants. Instead, she was just wearing him; using him as an object. Even worse, she was using him to get into bed with another man!

Marco seethed as Carrie strutted out to the front door, practically draping herself over this 'Stephen' fellow. He hugged her tightly to himself, one of his big hands running down her back to grab at her pert bottom.

Marco hated the surge of pleasure that ran through him as Stephen felt his fabric. The dumb ox had no idea that Marco was really a person, and that he could feel every bit of the man that pressed against Carrie—every bit of him.

With a mental shiver, Marco realized that his comparison of Stephen to an ox was more than a little appropriate, and the transformed man whimpered with inadequacy. He shivered again as Carrie ground back against him.

“I thought you wanted to see a movie today; saving the fun for tonight.” She purred throatily, rubbing a Marco-clad leg along Stephen's.

“Well...” Stephen trailed his fingers along her thigh; along Marco's body. “I've always been bad at waiting.”

“Good things happen to those who wait.” Carrie purred, kissing her date on his cheek.

“Yeah?” Stephen's strong fingers made small circles on Carrie's bottom, tickling both her and her capris, eliciting a gasp from the girl.

Marco positively simmered with jealousy, hating how good it felt to rub against the two of them like that. Even worse, he hated how he could literally feel Carrie's arousal; sensing her sweat and her increased heart rate alike.

Carrie groaned, pressing her forehead into Stephen's shoulder. “Yeah.” She moaned, placing a gentle kiss on his neck.

To Marco's immense relief, Stephen pulled away, a smile on his face. “Good, because I really want to see this movie.” He grinned impishly, slipping a pair of tickets from his pocket.

Carrie blushed, pulling back with a smile of her own. “You tease!” She squealed, slapping him lightly.

“Hey, you're the one wearing those sexy new jeans.” Stephen laughed.

'Jeans? Jeans? I am capris, thank you very much!' Marco blustered, immediately feeling humiliated for the thought. 'I mean, I am a person who was made into jeans. Who was made into capris.' Marco mumbled the thought dejectedly.

What was going on? Marco had heard that sometimes people who were trapped in a certain situation started believing it, something like how Stockholm syndrome worked. But he hardly expected it to affect him; he thought he was stronger than that!

A tremble of pleasure ran through his body as Carrie stuck a hand in his pocket, her fingers running along her thigh beneath his fabric. “I can't believe you noticed.” She smiled shyly. “Though these are capris, not jeans.”

Stephen laughed. “Well, I'm an expert at you, not at clothing.” He smiled and kissed her again. “Now let's go see some romance in space.”

“Now you're talking my language.” Carrie grinned, squeezing his hand and following him to his car.

Marco felt his jealousy begin to give way to a tired complacency. Much as he hated to admit it, the two were really cute together. What right did he have to get between them? Especially when it was so pleasurable to live as capris.

Marco groaned happily, loving the feeling of how Carrie was squirming in her seat, first during the ride; then during the movie. Being clothing really was being in heaven. Even Stephen's gentle caresses during the movie were perfect!

He loved how good it made both her and her capris feel. Being touched like this really made the movie all the more pleasurable, a constant tactile reminder of his place.

His place...

Marco screamed mentally, railing at the unmoving confines of his pink denim body. He was supposed to be here, seeing this movie! He was supposed to be beside Carrie; not on her!

'Think, Marco! You're a person, not capris! Even if you are capris now, you didn't used to be; remember!' Yet despite himself, all he could think about was how pleasurable it was to be worn like this; to make Carrie look beautiful.

“You know...” Carrie whispered at a quiet scene in the movie. “I might have to wear these on every one of our dates, if you like them so much.”

Stephen leaned closer to her, kissing her cheek. “I think I'd like that; to see you wear these nice and pink jeans out.”

To Marco's horror, he agreed, another shiver of pleasure running through his body as Stephen unknowingly tickled him again. Like it or not, it seemed that this was his life now; to forever be worn and wait for the last of his human mind disappear.

Worst of all, there was some small part of his mind that enjoyed it, a part that grew ever stronger the more he was worn. And Marco knew he would be worn a lot.