“This is a really nice place!” Shelley’s southern enthusiasm for sure.

Greg could tell they were there, but he was still blindfolded. He wasn’t sure how long they were driving--he fell asleep at some point in that strange zero-gravity state--but he thought he could feel the sun on him.

“Thank you, my dear...it’s all newly built. I’ve been a couple years securing the land surrounding the place...construction’s much cheaper when you simply rent the equipment and let the job do itself--and for my purposes it wasn’t worth building until it was mine for acres around.”

“It’s amazing…” Greg heard Holly’s soft, sweet voice. He barely recognized it at first, but there was a sigh that accompanied the words that made him think of the red satin sleepshorts--the ones she always snuggled in. Years ago now. Number one.

When the blindfold came off, Greg’s feet hit the ground again. He stumbled a bit, thrown off by the sudden presence of gravity.

He was on tile--on an outdoor patio. The sun was shining in the horizon as Greg expected, and before him were a couple dozen acres of farm and field, with outlying buildings in the distance but no clear houses. No neighbors.

“Where are we?”

Greg looked around, first at the full collection of underwear with them on the porch, then back at the huge, modernized farmhouse.

“For your purposes, we are nowhere,” the mesh shirt said, “and if you’d like to find that out for yourself, please--be silly enough to run like a fool in any direction. You can even scream your head off, if you like.” Greg saw motion in the distance in one of the outbuildings. It didn’t take him long perk up at the sight of a few people in overalls and carhartt, looking like they were coming from a huge loft-style barn near a freshly cut fallow field.

Greg thought for a second about waving his arms until he realized something was missing.

Faces. Heads. Hands.

People inside the work clothes.

“They-they’re all…”

“My ladies--just like everyone else.” Justine walked up behind Greg and lifted a mesh sleeve to his ass, pinching it. Greg jumped, turning around and backing up. “You, kiddo, are the first live prick to be allowed here.”

“You...you’re running a farm?”

“I decided it would be kinda quaint to keep with the crop. The girls have fun with the work. Gardening too. Arranging for buyers can be a little challenging, but it’s not as if I need the money.”

“What do you mean I’m the first live--” Greg gasped. He lifted into the air again as Justine raised her mesh sleeve.

“I mean I don’t typically let guys see the HQ, cutie.” He sailed toward her, and suddenly her sleeves shot out to the sides. His shirtsleeves did the same, and his pantlegs extended the same way. He was spread-eagle now, hovering in front of her. “It means the length of your stay is highly dependent on your re-education.”

Greg shut up now. He really wasn’t sure what to say. There wasn’t another human around as far as he could see, and despite the fact that nothing standing around him had a face to study, he knew he wasn’t in particularly happy company.

“Jus...she’s on her way back.” That was the voice of the courier to his left. He craned his neck to see her, and she smirked at him, waving her hello.

“That’s fine,” The mesh shrt turned to acknowledge her. “I can’t keep her from him forever...and Vicky needs to get acclimated.” The shirt waved a sleeve at Greg, and he was sent sailing toward the house, his limbs retracting.

“Wh--what the fuck?” This was faster than he’d been drifting about, and his sudden shock set off a chorus of laughter among the underwear corralled on the patio.

“You’re going to meet your roommate,” The mesh shirt said, her voice fleeting from the doppler effect when Greg was hoist around the corner by invisible force.

It was almost nightmarish. The hovering in his apartment, the van--there was something soft about it--something lulling. It was how he imagined simple weightlessness--disconcerting because he didn’t know how or why it was happening, but comforting at some kind of primordial level.

He had gotten sort of used to it...but even seconds ago on the patio was different. When she had him spread eagle, he could feel his clothes compressed around him like constrictors. It was the first time he realized she could probably make his cotton and polyester knits bend him like a pretzel if she wanted to.

It wasn’t as if they...or she….wanted to cause him pain--but he felt like they wanted him to know that things could get serious at any second if he was stupid enough to make the wrong move.

This, though--now he was sailing up a staircase and yanked down a long hall(!)--this felt like falling in every direction.  Unlike the settling effect of zero gravity--this effect has his primate mind trying to constantly reset ‘up’ and ‘down’.

In a relatively spartan room, Greg watched his things populating the space, apparently deciding where to go on their own. His eyes glassed as he watched his own clothes hang and fold and jump into drawers. Finally, he’d ceased ‘falling’ horizontally, and now he was held aloft in what he imagined to be his new room.

“What the fuck is going on here…?” There wasn’t going to be any waking up. Greg knew it now. He’d even fallen asleep in the van and woken back up. This was real. This was happening. And if it wasn’t--then it was his reality,and there wasn’t any escaping it.

“Their...their fucking underwear?” He cried out to his own animated things, which were detailed in making this room their new home. There seemed to be places for everything--his ties had special hangers in the closet. Any suit that wasn’t properly hung on a wooden clip hanger transferred itself. Socks Greg had lazily mismatched over the course of doing laundry found their correct mates.

His stuff was moving him in--and even if it sounded silly between his ears--they seemed to be quite happy with the prospect.

Punishment? Overwhelming personal guilt?

He hadn’t broken up straight with one of them. Not one of the women represented by the lingerie laughing at his new situation. Was never honest. Was never forthcoming. Was nothing but a dog, sniffing around at whatever was in season.

“Just the beginning, motherfucker.” It was an angry voice behind him. It was Jill.

When Greg tried to turn around, his body slipped out of weightlessness and dropped to the floor unceremoniously.

“Ow!” Greg looked up at the sheer black panties. “That...th--”

“That was a gift from me, dickweed.” The panties sauntered in, turning back to him. “You know that just being around her teaches us things?” Greg assumed she was talking about the mesh shirt and jeans, but he wasn’t going to add his two cents. “She has her plans, and I’m grateful to her, so I won’t get in the way of those...but I’m going to take my own pound too.” Greg was suddenly lifted off the ground by his shirt collar, which constricted around his neck--choking him just long enough to put him on his feet.

“J-Jill!”

“You can’t appeal to Jill, stupid. Jill isn’t here.” The panties charged toward him a few inches, and Greg was thrown backward against the wall. With a thundering sound, he slammed against the rear wall of the room, his clothes keeping him plastered against it. “Even if she was--she’d tell me to keep going.” Gravity shifted again, and Greg quickly slid toward the ceiling, rolling over his shoulders and laid out. “And I will, because you deserve it.”

Vertigo set in. He looked at the floor of the room but felt all 180 pounds of himself pulled skyward. A look out the window made him realize he’d fall into space if he weren’t indoors, and his fears were tweaked again at the most fundamental level.

He was subject to predators whose powers he couldn’t comprehend, and he couldn’t work out whether they wanted to kill him or own him. Every part of him wanted to give out and weep, but to the end, his dignity wouldn’t allow it. He twisted his face into a grimace.

He stood up on the ceiling, trying to keep his legs spread and his arms ready. Something woke up in him. Adrenaline?

“I don’t call you back, and your ghost tosses me around like a rag doll?”

The windows in the room yawned wide. Greg looked around and swallowed hard. His rally was diminishing fast.

“You don’t get it, Dusek. You can’t anticipate us.”

Greg gasped as he was pulled from the ceiling and falling again. He tried to be aware of it this time, to orient accordingly, but the pull hung a left that wouldn’t stop. There didn’t seem to be an end to it. He was whirling slowly, falling in a spiral and reaching out to try and grab anything.

“You can’t fucking outthink us. Look what I can do with you.”

Greg tried to keep an eye on the sheer panties as he sailed around the room and was flung out the window, legs first. He felt gravity settling again--horizontally this time--and now he was clinging to the windowframe. His whitened knuckles reached for a better grip as the panties sailed to the threshold.

“Don’t be fucking dense, idiot. It’s not about a phone call.” The pull was stronger now, as if gravity was getting denser--trying to pull him out the window. “There’s no one else in your life, Greg. For you, there are only things.” Greg’s face strained as he tried to hold on.

“Jill...please...let me in. Please?”

“Jill. Isn’t. Here.” Stronger still. His grip was going to give out. “All I am is what she feels for you, and right now--that doesn’t fucking bode well for you, Greg.”

“No!” He could almost see his last two fingers give out in slow motion as he dangled sideways out the second-story window. If this was more than gravity, hitting a tree across a field would kill him. A vehicle, a wall--almost anything would be a couple dozen stories away from him when laid sideways.

He thought about all this as he fell, wondering if he’d be lucky enough to scrape along the grass and maybe try to grapple the wall.

But as the house receded away from him, the force started to weaken. His speed slowed. The wind died down. He looked down in awe. He was slowly drifting down from a height of two stories. He was about 150 yards from the house now, across the massive front lawn, over an overgrown field and then into another well-kept lawn for one of the outbuildings.

He was just catching his breath, thankful to be alive, when he slumped to the ground again.

“Ow.” This time, he was dropped onto four inch grass from a height of about three feet. He looked up at the house, then down at his socks. He looked behind him and thought about all he heard regarding the land. He thought about the intangible, invisible occupants of the work clothes he saw earlier.

The sun was setting. Could he find a laneway and get out? Forest behind him. Fallow rolling fields and treelines to his left. The outbuilding and a gravel lane right.

He was really waiting to be hoist in the air again. After he looked around, he kept his eye on the house, waiting to see if Jill--Jill’s underwear--were going to summon him back.

Then there was a tug at his foot. And another. Before he knew it, his socks were slipping off of his feet. When he reached down to try and hold the cuffs, his pants unbuttoned.

“No, no...come on…” His legs swept out from under him, and now Greg was off the ground again. This time he wasn’t far from it, and he still felt the pull of gravity, so he instinctively put his hands out to catch himself. The moment he did it, his jeans slipped off of him and dumped him right back on the grass.

His shirt swept up over his eyes when he was distracted, watching his own jeans land on the socks and pivot. He let the thing go without a fight and watched his outfit form-up without him.

It stood over him, and he just sat on the ground in his underwear.

“Now what?”

Greg’s own shirt sleeve pointed toward his waist, and Greg let out a yelp as his underwear shot down his legs, leaving him naked on the lawn. The briefs sailed right into the shirtsleeve and tumbled into the jeans. Greg stood up off the grass, cupping his balls as his own outfit turned around and wiggled its butt at him.

Greg frowned, looking at the house in the distance. He certainly couldn’t run off into the woods now.

“I got it. You win. What am I supposed to do?”

“I’d start by not talking back…” Came a breathy voice from just over his shoulder. Greg’s hair bristled, and he turned around to see absolutely nothing around him.

“Hello?” The wind rustled around him--or so he thought. It was warm.

“Is this better?” The voice asked. “A little warmer, maybe?” Goosebumps all over him now. The voice was still just behind him. Just in front of him? Greg didn’t understand what was happening.

“Are...you’re like one of them, right?” Greg asked. “Back at the house?” The wind turned cool for a second, then warmed again.

“I suppose you’ve never met someone like me before today.” There was an updraft, and Greg was airborne once more. “I think we’ll do okay. I’ve never kept anyone for myself.” The voice vibrated through him, and his dick swelled.

“Wh-what do you mean kept?” Greg started rising into the air, higher and higher.

“Shhhh...no questions, darling. Responses only.” Greg looked around, panicking. He was at three or four stories now, sailing up and up. “You’re not going to talk back to the girls anymore, are you?” Greg hesitated, watching the forest canopies disappear under him. He could see the weave of the fields and treelines before long, and he spied a winding lane that headed off the hill and toward a valley.

Then he dropped.

“S-stop, please!!!”

The drop lasted as long as it took him to say the words. He was still suspended in the air.

“You’re not going to talk back to the girls anymore…right?”

“Right! Right.” Greg shuddered, looking down. “Can we...go lower?”

He shot higher still, and now it was fast. It only took him a second to realize it was like his fear on the ceiling. He was flung spaceward.

“Stop! Come on, please, please stop!” He went higher and higher. Before long, he could see dirt road in the distance. Lights against the fading sun. The nearest neighbors, maybe.

By the time he slowed again, he had to be a couple thousand feet from the ground.

“You’re taking me seriously now, aren’t you?” The voice asked. Greg simply nodded. “Good.” He felt the wind under him. He was drifting down again. Slowly. Gently. “This might seem unfair--but I’m actually the good guy, hon. I don’t have anything against you--at least not personally.”

“Who’s…” Greg caught himself. “I’m glad. I don’t think I’d want you to.” He looked down at his nude body and thought about the fall air. “If this warmth is you...thanks.”

“That’s a half-decent start,” the voice said. “We’ll get you back into some clothes, too--but don’t be too surprised if they don’t exactly move as your limbs want them to. It’ll be the other way around.”

“But what is that that they…” Another catch. “I wish I knew what I was doing here,” Greg corrected. The voice laughed from all around him, and he felt a hard slap on his ass.

“You fucking cheater...you can’t just reword questions into things you’d ‘like to know’.” Greg felt something--a delicate hand--coil around his manhood. He sighed as he continued drifting lower. “There’s only a couple things you really need to know. First, we can do anything.” The hand disappeared, and invisible lips took its place, plunging over the tip of his cock and making him look down at his midsection.

“Oh, my fucking god…”

“No, no, Greg. Victoria.”

“Victoria,” He repeated, watching the skin of his dick slide up and down, manipulated by this unseen woman.

“Mommy,” the voice said.

“Huh?”  Greg winced. The lips around his dick vanished.

“Was that a question, Greg?” After the voice asked, he fell earthward again. The air was cold.

“Mommy! I’m sorry, mommy!” He snapped immediately, spitting it out to save his life. In a split second he stopped plummeting again, and the invisible lips started milking him once more.

“That’s right, Greg. I’m your mommy. You’re going to obey me, and I’m going to protect you and make you as comfortable as I can. Because, seriously...some of those ladies back at the house seriously want to wreck you.”

“Wh--whatever I can do.”

“Good boy,” Victoria said. “Keep with that attitude and I’ll get you through this, okay?” Greg nodded. “Hey, there go your clothes.” Greg drifted toward the treeline again, and he could see his outfit flying back toward the house without him. “Another tip, cutie--nothing is going to be loyal to you here. Nothing. I’m the only thing you can trust.”

Greg wanted to ask her to elaborate, but he couldn’t think of a way of asking without ‘asking a question’. If he was being honest, he was amazed he could focus on anything other than the invisible lips on his cock.

“That...that feels really good,” Greg said. The voice laughed back at him, sounding pleased with itself.

“Like I said, I’m the good guy here. Don’t get to used to it...because you still have to deal with all of them. As you can see,” She said as they trailed Greg’s flying outfit, “They’re busy turning your own stuff against you, and they’re only going to get more powerful as they stay here with Justine.”

He wanted so bad to ask a question.

“I’m going to do what I can to get you information, honey--but if I’m going to get them to trust me, it means I can’t be seen to help you. As far as they’re concerned--I’m your jailer and keeper. Which means I’m not going to be nice in front of them.” He felt something constrict around his balls, and he gasped. “I’m going to be downright mean, on occasion--and it’s going to probably feel pretty awful at times.”

Now a caress over his balls. Now fingertips moving over his ass. It was hard to process language at the same time this was happening, but he managed to absorb it. She was going to play mean for his benefit, and he had to trust her. After what happened with Jill’s...underwear...he didn’t think he had a choice.

“So you’re...making up for it with this,” Greg managed. The voice laughed back at him.

“This isn’t exactly for your benefit. You’re a nice specimen, and I’m exploring. But if it helps you trust me…”

A pair of lips met his own as he drifted over the lawn of the main house again. He kissed them back, and the grip on his dick let up as two invisible hands squeezed his ass instead. Greg moaned in delight, detecting a scent like clean skin--he could smell this intangible fairy lifting him effortlessly through the air.

That’s what they were, weren’t they? Pixies. Or something. Dangerous magic. Playful, but dangerous. Hedonistic.

Victoria.

When she let him go, we wanted more. His dick was standing at attention, and even approaching the house he wasn’t thinking about his appearance.

“More...please, more…” Greg said to the air, begging.

Mommy…” Victoria prompted, grabbing the tip of his dick with invisible fingers.

“M-more, mommy…” Greg winced. He was only a couple feet from the ground now, and suddenly the front door to the main house opened as he approached the facade of the east wing.

“Louder,” Victoria’s breathy whisper said. Greg didn’t see Bianca emerge from the house, but her eyes were on his floating form immediately as a grin curled over her face.

“More, mommy! Please, more!” Greg shouted it out now, and Bianca burst out laughing. Only now did he realize he had an audience, and of course it had to be the only other human he knew of on the property.

“No hard feelings, hon,” Came her whisper again. “I’m going to my room to get dressed. I’ll catch you later, okay?” Greg was slowly placed on his feet as the warmth drifted away from him. He covered up in front of Bianca, who shook her head.

“Good first day?” She asked, circling him.

“She knew you were there, didn’t she?” Greg said, raising his eyebrows to her. She shrugged.

“Whatever gets you off, bud.” She looked back into the house. “Come on, guys. I got him.” Greg’s eyes went wide as his outfit walked out, flanked by Jill’s sheer panties and a pair of gold satin bikini bottoms with lace trim. Liz’s.

“No, I mean Victoria. She…”

“Shut up, Greg.” Jill’s sheer panties strutted over toward him. “Take him back to his room.” Greg wasn’t sure who the panties were talking to until his clothes sprung into action, slipping behind him and curling a sleeve around his wrists.

“Hey, oww!” Greg cried out as the sleeve raised his arms behind him. “Knock it--aaaoww!”

“Walk, idiot!” Jill’s panties commanded. Greg’s shirt pushed him forward and he marched toward the house. To his horror, his dick was still standing up straight, sticking out like a target.

“That’s a nice cock, Dusek.” Liz’s gold panties wiggled. “I wanna bounce on it.”

“Only if you’re going to torture him,” The black panties answered back. “Edge of satisfaction. For hours. Days. Forever.” Greg’s nipples both tweaked, and he whimpered. Both the panties laughed.

“Dinner’s at seven,” Bianca said, following them into the house.

“Uh--oh-kay,” Greg answered, feeling his arms pulled up behind him again. A hand grabbed his hard cock and pulled.

“Shut. Up.” It was Jill’s voice--low and serious. “She was talking to us.” Greg’s clothes shoved him forward again, and he headed toward the stairs, back to his new room. “We’ll have him ready for dinner,” Jill’s panties said.

“Keep him in the house for the night,” Bianca warned. Greg didn’t have to face her to know this wasn’t a request. “We’re clear?”

“Absolutely.” The sheer panties sailed over Greg’s head, passing him on the stairs. “I promise we’ll bring him downstairs at seven...hungry.”

“Mm-hmm…” Bianca seemed nonplussed as she went down the hall.

“Aren’t you cold?” Liz’s panties asked, sliding their hips against Greg’s as he climbed the rest of the stairs. “You’ve been outside like that and that dick’s still going full display.” The gold panties slid around and rested on his dick, riding their ass against his tummy and bouncing against him.

“Ohhh, fuck.” Greg headed toward his room with Liz’s briefs riding him, sliding their crotch up and down his standing shaft. “I’m...not cold anymore…”

“Hurry it up!” Jill’s panties demanded, making Greg’s clothes shove him down the hall faster. “You’re supposed to be torturing him, you know.”

“Look at this thing!” Liz’s panties answered back. They jumped off of him, and Greg watched as the crotch of the panties slid to the side. “I can do torture. Watch.”

Greg gapsed a little, sucking air as he felt it. Tight. Wet. Surrounded.

“Whhhhoooa!” The gold panties slid down him, wiggling their invisible ass as they cried out in Liz’s voice. “Mmmm...you still got it.” The invisible pussy slid up and down Greg’s shaft even as he entered his room. He moaned when his outfit finally released his arms--removing any discomfort and allowing him to reach out and grab the hips of the unseen form he was impaling.

“Fuck yeah…” Greg smiled, reaching out to the gold panties. He always figured Liz saw him as the same fling he saw her as, and her personality here seemed to bear that out. The form giggled and slid off his dick, sailing out of his grip.

“NOW look at it,” Liz’s panties said. “It’s like mean and purple.”

“We can do better,” Jill said. The bedroom door slammed and locked, and Greg’s closet pulled itself open. “Tie him to the bed.”

Greg’s collection of ties snaked out of the closet like silk eels. Before they reached him, gravity failed again as he was lifted and pulled back to his bed.

“I want you to know what it’s like to remain unfulfilled, Greg.” Jill’s panties hovered over him as his ties constricted around his limbs, magically knotting themselves and tightening their grip. “I want you to know what it’s like when you’re the object--and NO ONE CARES what you want.”

Greg saw the clock next to the bed and realized it wasn’t quite 6 PM. Whatever Jill’s vengeful feelings, she only had him for the next hour.

“What are you going to do?” Greg asked.

“I’m going to make you cry again,” Jill said, “Like when you thought you were going to fall sideways to your doom. I liked that look on you.”

Maybe the next hour was going to be longer than he thought.