I was in the Westbrook Mall to return a couple shirts that didn't fit me. I knew I should've tried them on, but dress shirts are a massive pain in the ass when you're in a fitting room. All those pins and clips, the cardboard holding the collars and cuffs in p lace...way too much work.

So imagine my surprise when I saw people running or briskly walking out of Le Tailleur, some of them muttering to themselves and others silent & pale white as new linen. On asking someone what was going on, I got a strange reply:

"The devil!" An elderly woman told me, looking gravely into my eyes and grasping my coat. "Satan himself has taken this place--and those spawn of Lilith are his minions!" This was a demurely-dressed grandmother, serious in her conviction. Not wanting to upset anyone so sure in their mind, I simply nodded at her and feigned turning around to satisfy her pull on my sleeve. Once she let go and kept heading down the corridor as quickly as her legs and cane could carry her, I stared back into the store.

What was going on in here that could causing so many people to flee with such bizarre affect? Well, you know me. I had to find out.

Once I was inside, I still saw people browsing housewares and bedding. It occurred to me that most of the people on their way out had come from the escalator leading to apparel, and when another woman nearly broke her ankle coming down the moving stairs, a couple of the docile shoppers on this floor turned again to see what the disturbance was.

It was about now that a woman with a red polo and khaki pants came up to me, holding a radio.

"Sir, we're closed," she said. "I'm sorry, but there's an incident upstairs, and I have to ask everyone to leave." When I looked around at the other shoppers to plead my case, I noticed that they were being approached by staff as well, at least one of them arguing that they had a full cart and they weren't just going to leave because someone upstairs was throwing a tantrum. "Sir?"

"I, uh--I just needed to make some returns," I said, looking as dense as possible.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but everyone needs to leave. I don't know what's going on upstairs, but for your own safety--"

"You seem calm enough," I argued, "and I'm not hearing anything too dangerous." She scowled at me.

"Sir, I'm asking you to leave. Please. I don't want--"

"GHOSTS!" Said a man, taking three or four steps at a time, flying down the escalator like a gazelle. He leapt from nearly halfway up, rolling over one of the rubber handrails and landing on the floor. Unfazed by his drop, he continued running toward the door as the argumentative shopper in my view now complied with the other staff member.

"Ghosts?" I asked the woman, a 30-something brunette that wasn't too hard on the eyes.

"Sir,” Flustered now. Very. And she’s cute, to boot. “As I said, we're having an incident and I need this area evacuated as soon as--"

"Let me help," I said. "I used to work security at concerts." It was a lie, but at 6'4" and nearly 230 lbs, it was a believable one. She sighed.

"To be honest, I'm scared shitless," she said. "I don't know what's going on up there, but I heard some weird things on the radio, and I just need you to--"

"Help you," I said. "You could use my help. I'm volunteering." She shook her head. "Listen, you're not going to force me to leave. If you have to officially keep saying 'no', that's fine, but I'm going upstairs." She rubbed her temples and looked back up at me with renewed intensity.

"I've warned you four times," she said, "but you're right--I can't force you out." She stood in front of the up escalator, her arms out to her sides. "But you also don't look like the kind of guy who wants to be in the blotter for assault." She was stubborn, but she was right. I wasn't going to touch her for any reason. Throwing caution to the wind, I leapt up on the barrier between the two escalators and ran up a few steps, jumping back onto the 'up' track as soon as I was beyond her. "Sir, stop!"

I pounded up the shifting stairs in record time, wondering what it was I was going to see. A robbery? A crazed maniac?

Uh uh.

This time, my morbid sense of curiosity and adrenaline-seeking foolishness had dropped my rational mind into a vat of sticky surreality. On the second floor I saw clothes.

Yes, clothes--but not on displays and racks and mannequins where they should be. Rather, they were dancing around, running, sailing over the departments...some of them even seemed to have a couple store patrons trapped like frightened animals.

I swallowed hard, turning around to see the determined staff-member right behind me. Her angry stare dissolved into dumbfounded glances all around her, and I watched as she let her radio drop straight to the tiled floor, breaking its battery clip on impact.

"What the fuck is..." She pointed at something behind me, and before I could react, I felt someone squeeze me into a tight bear-hug. Trying to break the grip, I looked down to see delicate satin sleeves wrapped around me, and a second later, my mind registered the empty ends of the sleeves and the feeling of pillowy fabric balloons pushing against my back, just beneath my shoulder blades. When I tried to run instead of simply breaking away from the sleeves, the butterflies in my stomach and the lack of pressure beneath my feet told me that I was being lifted off the ground, albeit just slightly.

The staff member darted back to the up escalator, but she was greeted by an enormous pair of stretch pants which leapt up and wrapped their legs around her mid-torso. Now she was screaming, lifted into the air like myself, kicking at empty space and pounding on the empty hips of the stretch pants with her fists.

"Look at this, Bernie," A silky female voice said. "Nobody else wants to play with us, but these two just couldn't resist seeing what all the fuss was about." I looked above me to see a hovering woman in a black basque and a leather miniskirt, positioned so that I could see right up it to her black lace panties. Any rational critical thought was gone, having nothing to anchor itself on. All that remained was testosterone and adrenaline, fixing my stare on the curvy, plus-size figure of the middle-aged woman sailing effortlessly above me. "See something you like, little boy?" She asked, her crimson lips curling into a smile as she hovered down to the floor.

"I think he likes your outfit," another voice said from behind us. The staffer and I both turned to meet the gaze of another woman, this one blonde, slender and tall, equally free of gravity and dressed in a diaphanous purple gown that hugged against what appeared to be a naked silhouette when she sailed toward us. "Maybe we should find him something to dress up in."

"What the fuck is going on?" The staffer screamed, looking between the two women and struggling against the stretch pants locked around her upper waist.

"They think they're so big and bad, don't they?" The voluptuous witch said, putting her fingers through the frightened staffer's brown locks. "All he had to do was listen to you, but instead, he took you as someone to ignore. Don't you wanna teach him some respect?" The staffer looked back at me, confused.

"Wh--what do you mean?" As the woman responded more calmly and coherently, the stretch pants lowered her back to the floor, loosening their grip. The staffer looked toward the escalator, considering another attempt at escape.

"No, no, girl--" The slender witch said, hovering down and blocking the escalator. "You've got us all wrong. It's not you we're after--we just didn't want you to run away before we offered you a supporting role in our game."

"Offer is the key term," The voluptuous witch said, circling me and sizing me up as her tan-hosed toes skimmed along the tile floor. "Once we explain, just say the word and you're free to go. Him, on the other hand..." Her cherubic face gazed through me, and she licked her blood-red lips as if she was ready to gobble me up. "His participation is required, whatever his feelings."

"What are you talking aboooohph--" a slender pair of black leather gloves covered my face, their forms filled with invisible hands as they wove their leather fingers together and clamped over my mouth.

"Shut it, boy," The curvy witch laughed, her breasts jiggling in the basque and drawing my eyes down. At about this moment, I hated the idiot male part between my legs telling me that this was a splendid situation when the rest of my body was quivering with unfathomable fear.

"What--do you want?" The staffer asked. The purple clad witch landed on the tile floor and put her arm around the woman, who recoiled a tiny bit before allowing the witch to whisper in her ear. When her eyes lit up, I was even more nervous--which I didn't believe was possible at this point. The staffer looked slightly amused, and turned to her new confidante. "R-really?" Both of the witches nodded at her, and the staffer looked back at me, looking me up and down.

"Oh, absolutely," the curvy witch cackled. "And not him alone, either. We've got plenty of other pets and allies signed up over by the dressing rooms. This party is for you." For the first time, the staffer's lips twisted into a smile, and I could feel her looking at me like a piece of meat. As my resolve softened, my member did the opposite. I was doomed.

"Sounds interesting," she shrugged, getting more comfortable with every passing moment. "Lead the way." The slender witch took her hand, and she gasped as the two of them lifted off the ground, sailing down the aisle.

"Just relax, sweetie," she laughed, looking back at me. "Your naughty little trespasser needs to get dolled up a bit before we play with him." They hovered out of sight as I looked back to the thick woman in front of me, her wild red hair flowing with the bobbing motions of her hovering body.

"I just love you dirty little creatures," she said as the black leather gloves released my jaw and moved down to my pants, unbuttoning them. "No self control whatsoever, and much as you might try--" She looked down at my waist as the gloves unzipped and yanked down my jeans, "--that silly little love-antenna of yours gives you away every time." Now my boxers were next to go, and suddenly all my coverage was around my ankles.

I moaned as soft leather fingers coiled around my cock, gripping exactly as hard as my aroused body wanted. My dick perked, and now the other glove trailed its fingers along the underside of my balls, making me squirm and spout exasperated little giggles. I couldn't help myself. I looked back up at the woman seemingly controlling this sexual transgression. Her cool blue eyes stared back into me, glowing as she grinned a perfect white smile.

"You know what I simply adore about you, my little horny toad?" I shook my head slowly, my eyes jumping to her incredible cleavage and her gorgeous hips filling the tight leather skirt. "There's no stingy little judgment in you at all...not a hint of disgust, not a word of criticism bouncing between those cute little ears of yours." She raised her hand as I sailed into the air, hovering up until my hard cock was in line with her full lips. "You like my body, don't you?" I shuddered as waves of sensation broke against me, the gloves doling out perfect leather strokes as my member strained against its own pulsating skin. "That's what I thought," she smirked. "You're going to be much better off than those snivelling husbands, that's for sure."

The gloves lifted my hardened, teased cock against my belly, and the curvy witch leaned forward, licking the base of my cock and running her tongue up to its head. I cried out in pleasure just as I heard voices at the base of the escalator.

"FREEZE!" Shouted a voice at the bottom. It was a cop. Not a mall security guard, but a full-fledged police officer, steadily pointing his gun directly at me. Two more flanked him, drawing their sidearms as well.

"Hey...heyyyy..." I managed to say, trying to get the witch's attention as she put me inside her mouth and drew me deeper into her crimson lips with powerful suction. Her blue eyes looked up at me lovingly as she moved me in and out, driving the blood to my bell-end and making me achingly hard. My gun didn't seem to mind the three REAL guns being pointed squarely at my body.

I suddenly realized that we were in such a position that they couldn't see her from the floor below. They could only see my quivering upper body sitting higher than it should be above the floor.

"I said FREEZE, NOW!" I looked down at the officers, fear mingling with lust in a way that only made me harder. I couldn't explain it if I tried.

Trust momma... came a voice in my head. I looked down at the gorgeous face making out with my cock, and soothing relaxation washed over me. I started giggling, breaking into laughter as one of the leather gloves began pumping me again even as she sucked and licked me. They don't know what they're getting into, she said telepathically, looking up at me with the cool stare of total control. No one interrupts my playtime.

"The fuck?! Sergeant?!" I looked down at the cops as their weapons all released their ammunition clips at the same time, sending them sailing upstairs and flinging them into the distance. All the barrels cocked and released the round at ready in the chambers, and now the stunned officers looked as if they couldn't control their tools of death, which pulled themselves from their fingers and magically dismantled, piece by piece.

"Hey...hey!" I watched in awe as their uniforms began stripping themselves off. Their nightsticks and cuffs sailed from their belts, the former threatening with phantom swings as their cuffs hovered menacingly in front of them, waiting for their shirts to peel off before biting onto their wrists and pulling their arms into the air.

These were men being stripped, but somehow, knowing the responsibility rested with the sorceress giving me a heavenly blowjob just made me harder. I was crowing for orgasm now as my eyes returned to her hard-working deep red lips.

Now, empty women's clothing rushed past us, bulging bras and dancing panties, tightly filled jeans and pneumatic blouses. Boots, heels, stockings and socks--anything in the upstairs army of clothing nearby enough marched down both escalators toward the restrained officers, one of whom broke down weeping at this point.

Her lips broke contact with my cock as the leather gloves, slicked with her saliva, took over in keeping me ready and rigid.

"Let's get you ready for your new mistress, shall we?" She asked. I nodded obediently as she began sailing down the aisle, my hovering body right behind and above her as the leather gloves kept up their work.

I spotted more and more male victims just like myself, very few of them appearing to resist their situations. There was a teenager fastened to a wire wall display with a collection of belts, sashes, and scarves, grinning with delight as a pink camisole bobbed in front of him, white translucent stockings playing at the crotch of his bulging jeans as a collection of silky loungewear seemed to watch. Another man was in women's shoes, bent over a display and worshipping red leather pumps with his tongue as a black flat shod his package, his balls held in the heel as his hard dick filled the glossy shoe up to its toes. A clipboard forcefully spanked him now and then as he slathered the red vamp in kisses and licks.

"All very nice situations," The curvy witch said, turning back to me as we continued hovering toward the other end of the women's department, "But I have something very special in mind for you." As we drifted toward sleepwear, I dared to talk again.

“So when you said you were going to doll me up...” The witch hovering in front of me turned to face me, continuing to sail down the main aisle without any visible effort on her part.

“You almost seem excited by the idea.” I couldn’t help but stare at her cleavage in the tight basque, spilling out over the top. The leather gloves seemed to know it, and stroked and tugged on me even harder, making my member stand on end. She drifted closer, looking down at my body. “I wonder what kind of look would suit that shape...”

“S--satin...” I muttered, not even meaning to. I found myself staring at her skirt. “And leather. Satin and leather.” She let out a pleased giggle, biting her lip.

“You do have the legs for a skirt. Has anyone ever told you that?” I just shook my head. “Well, I think your suggestion is splendid. I believe our new recruit--that employee friend of yours--is going to need an assistant. Are you up for that?” She puckered her lips at me, talking down to me like a child...or a pet. Her hand went under my chin, stroking it softly. I simply nodded. Between the gloves at my cock and the possibility of her lips around it again later, I had no intention of saying no to this woman. “That’s my little sissy. We’re gonna make you gorgeous.”

In the middle of sleepwear she pointed her fingers at a few of the racks, sending sets of satin pajamas, boyshorts and camisoles flying off the racks and display islands. A guy that had apparently been hiding behind one of the displays made a break for it, realizing all too late that the animated clothing jumping to life didn’t exactly have to outrun him.

“Yahhhhh!” A satin sleeve coiled around his wrist, its billowing form temporarily losing the emulated shape of a jointed elbow and constricting around his arm instead. “What--what the fuck’s going omm--?!” A pair of satin boyshorts balled up and stuffed themselves into his mouth, gagging him.

“But before we head over to formalwear--let’s see if we can’t calm this one down and put him in something a bit more comfortable.” The satin pajama sleeve coiled around him pulled him into the main aisle, despite using all his weight to throw himself in the other direction. A pair of shiny pink pajama bottoms leapt into the air and wrapped their bulging legs around his face, burying him in soft satin and sending him tumbling to the ground. Now with an arm held to his side and the other trying desperately to peel the ballooning satin thighs and butt from around his head, his own pants popped open. His shoes slipped right off and wandered happily down the aisle, followed by the legs of his jeans, slipping off him ankles first.

The waist of his tee pulled up over his chest, stopped by the satiny legs straddling his head. They rose off the floor, carrying him right up with them. The pajama top released its grip around his arm, and now he was hovering in the main aisle in his plaid boxers and his half-escaping t-shirt, his own arms wrapped around the legs of the pajama pants as his muted but exasperated voice continued spouting muffled exclamations into the satin crotch.

The top hovered down in front of his waist, raising its sleeves to the sides of his boxer shorts and pulling them off in one swift motion. Instead of dropping to the ground, the boxers puffed to life and sailed over to a couple pairs of satin boyshorts, which welcomed the new lively garment by grinding against them.

I watched this weird show, distracted by it until a pair of panties drifted the other direction, coming from the lingerie department. They were huge--certainly from the women’s department--boasting bouncy, full-coverage cheeks as they made their way to the floating target now kicking his legs.

The pajama top sailed down to his feet, wrapping his ankles in a soft bear hug and keeping them still enough for the white lacy panties to slip over them. Now both halves of the satin pajamas let go at the same time, dropping the poor guy and letting him slide into the panties with nothing more than the force of gravity doing its job.

He never hit the ground, though. After his t-shirt was able to pull itself over his neck and drift away, he looked down in shock, still gagged by satin. He looked down into his new panties, seeing the shape of a full-figured woman inside them--even though that shape wasn’t being filled by him. His cock was pressed flush against his stomach by unseen force, its skin being stroked up and down as if by magic. He looked at his midsection with aroused but terrified awe, reaching down to investigate exactly how this was happening.

The pajama pants took this as the perfect moment to dive under him and slide up his legs, and now his eyes rolled back as the smooth pants pulled up over his thighs and the eerily filled panties. The fabric expanded out to insane proportions, filling like a satin balloon as his hand reached down to the crotch of the pajama pants and glided over its tight surface.

The pajama top unbuttoned and positioned itself behind him, and I watched as his exploring hands were momentarily pulled back to allow the satin sleeves to shimmy up his arms. The satin crawled over his shoulders as the buttons came together again, and as the top began billowing to shape, I found myself looking at a strange and wonderful contradiction that I wasn’t sure how to react to.

“There now--isn’t that all snuggly and comfortable?” My sorceress sponsor asked him, drifting over as I watched the guy react to his new shape. Or the shape of his new satiny restraints, I should say. He raised his sleeves, looking at the tight overflowing fabric around his arms and shoulders, then put his hands over the enormously filled satin orbs at his chest. He squeezed the billowy shapes, apparently unable to resist the temptation.

The gag still in his mouth, he simply looked up at the full-figured witch in awe.

“And you’ve got a booty to match,” she said, slapping the ass of the pajama pants. He looked over his shoulder to see that she wasn’t kidding--every inch of the pajama set was filled to cartoony voluptuousness. Reaching his hands behind him, he grabbed at the squishy butt of the pants to realize that he couldn’t feel his own grip through the fabric. He looked up at her again, cocking his head. “I bet I know what you’re thinking--but don’t worry. They’ll know how to show you a good time.”

The witch swept her hands over his satiny breasts, and suddenly he made a surprised noise again behind his gag. Beneath his exaggerated glossy shell, he felt invisible fingers tweaking his nipples and running over his stomach and collarbones, even though no motion was evident in the pajama top itself.  

He tried to stop the grabby invisible intruders by grabbing at his chest, finding his fingers unable to penetrate deep enough into the pillowy satin mounds to reach his skin. The witch laughed at his futile effort, grabbing the puffing cameltoe at his crotch next. Now the sensation of an unseen pussy slid down over the tip of his cock, encasing him in tight invisible force.

Ethereal hands began kneading his ass and playing over his thighs, and now his face twisted frantically as he grabbed his satin hips, ass, and legs, unable to effect the sensations jumping all over his body. As he appeared to feel up his own ghostly curves, the outfit leaned him back into a a reclining position as the magical force around his cock started to manipulate him with a facsimile of wonderfully plump unseen lips. Crossing his arms over his chest again, he shuddered pleasure as he grabbed the pajama top's inflated tits. His head titled back as he let out a moan, crying out his surrender to the magic outfit surrounding him. As the outfit sailed away from the witch and back over the displays toward the other clothes, his eyes rolled back and fluttered closed. The muted sounds he made now were more indicative of ecstasy than panic...

“There now, enough of that,” she said to me. “I’ve gotten much too distracted from my task. Still as enthusiastic, are you?” I gave her a slow nod, not wanting to encourage her too much. She didn’t appear to need it. "I imagine our friends downstairs have had their attitudes properly adjusted, so what's say we take you down to the makeup counter?"

"M-makeup?" I asked. She nodded, drifting over to me. The leather gloves attending my member crawled up to my chest, beginning to massage my pecs as I let out a sigh. She grabbed my cock, squeezing it and making me sputter a surprised syllable.

"Yes, makeup. Look at those cheekbones...those stormy grey eyes...if something's worth doing, it's worth doing right." She let go of me, and I drifted ahead of her now, back toward the escalators. A pair of emerald green satin panties met us halfway there. I marveled at the suspended shape of them as they rose up to my face, almost seeming to watch me.

"Uh...hi." I muttered, unsure of what to expect from this faceoff.

"I'd much prefer a more delicate color on you, but sometimes the clothes pick the person--isn't that what they say?" I turned to her.

"Do they?" I asked. She only laughed in response.

"Don't dilly-dally," she said, apparently addressing the panties. "We've got work to do." The obedient underwear dove down under my legs and slid right back up, forcing a sound out of me when they passed over my well-teased and already sensitive cock. I started to reach down to feel myself through the satin, but the leather gloves quickly grabbed both my wrists. The green satin hugged me like a second skin at first, pushing tight against me and gripping me so I could see an outline of my hardened member.

I let out a moan, my arms involuntarily struggling against the leather hands gripping my wrists.

"No no no, my sweet. Your rewards are quid pro quo. I won't have you spending yourself until we get what we want. She pointed at the panties. "But even if you have to wait hours to light the fuse in that cannon of yours, that doesn't mean you won't enjoy the meticulous priming..." I felt something deliciously soft swell over every square inch of my skin, shuddering out a cackle as I was gripped in a whole new way. Instead of feeling the satin sliding against the underside of me alone, I felt something softer and slippier, more frictionless than even the glossy green fabric itself.

I looked down to see my cock, hanging in the empty space between my skin and the now over-inflated panties. This must have been exactly what happened to the guy in sleepwear. I struggled to look over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of the same effect behind me.

"That's--that's..."

"Now see?" She asked, smiling as she lazily hovered around to the front of my body. "Not only does this supply the more aestethic shape I'm looking for..." she reached a hand down, stroking the crotch of the panties and sinking her middle finger between simulated labia stretching into the glossy strip, "but it sheathes you better than any ordinary clothing possibly could." She raised her eyebrows, dipping her finger deep into the fold. I felt electric dance over the tip of my cock despite the fact that nothing was making contact with it.

I met her eyes with a helpless sort of gratitude, bringing me to the realization that my captor had perfect control over me--mind and body.

"Yeaaaah," she whispered. "I always know a good little sissy when I see one." She drifted away, continuing ahead of me now. My eyes were locked on her bulging thighs and ass straining against her tight leather skirt. "Now lets get you looking nice and professional for your new boss...her orientation will be over soon."

I kept looking around as we drifted toward business casuals, spotting the young guy who was being tended by stockings before. He was standing on the floor now--or so I thought until I realized he was getting the same treatment. He was wearing the pink satin camisole, more or less, sporting voluptuous phantom tits that jiggled with his every step. He seemed to be following an empty pair of pantyhose sauntering in front of him, and when he passed through a gap between racks, I saw that his own lower half was sheathed in shiny nylon, his legs suspended in the same phantom space as his torso and my hips. The squishy, overinflated feet of the hose pressed against the floor with each step, but his toes inside the translucent forms never once hit the ground. It excited and unnerved me at the same time--his experience in loss of control both horrifying me and making me jealous.

"Don't you worry, cutie, yours are in tow..." The witch turned, her breasts heaving from her basque as she giggled. "You must have patience...though I have to say that your kinky conflicted enthusiasm continues to pleasantly surprise me." When I heard he say that mine were 'in tow', I looked over my shoulder to see a pair of cream stockings with delicate lace embroidery around the tops of the thighs. They followed us with a seductive gait as we continued down the aisle, free of gravity.

The man who was happily worshipping boots a few moments ago was now wearing a pair of black knee-highs, leaving me to wonder how exactly his stout legs were packed into them. But they weren't all he was wearing...black opaque leggings continued up to a garish, silver lamé skirt, tightly filled with a ludicrously enormous bubble butt.

That's when I noticed knit red sleeves against the metallic ass, complete with invisible fingertips sinking into the lamé bubble and squeezing with vigor. The dressed up man whirled around, revealing a hollow sweaterdress wrapping its empty arms around him, leading him in a ghostly dance that he no doubt had zero control over. He had a black silk halter top on, and the orbs hovering out in front of it and squeezing against the sweaterdress' own impressive chest dwarfed even the ones I'd seen in the satin pajamas from earlier. The man was lost in his dance, staring blankly into the empty collar of the sweaterdress as the two forms danced to the eerie silence.

The living outfits well outnumbered the victims caught up in this place, probably by as much as 50 to 1. The ubiquity of animated clothes was such that only the human victims--if you could really call us that--caught and held my attention. I began to wonder where all the women had gone to when I saw three figures emerge from a door leading to the stock room. One was the other witch I'd seen earlier--but I couldn't be sure about the other two. One thing was clear--none of them needed to walk to get where they wanted to go.

"Well, here comes the rest of your lovely outfit now," the full-figured witch said, pointing down another aisle. From the women's business casuals, I watched as the other dancing and flying garments hovered or stepped aside to make way for it.

It was a massively busty green satin blouse, shimmering and billowing as it strutted down the aisle. I say strut because a tight, wide-hipped leather skirt in creamy black lambskin floated under it, with invisible legs scissoring the burgeoning curves of the lower hem back and forth, making the hips swing with haughty feminine confidence. Black patent pumps made dull clicks against the carpeted floor with every step, making me wonder to myself what kind of magic would pack my size 13s into them.

Out in front of the outfit, a full figured green lace bra turned the corner, translucent and scalloped with intricate lace designs. I couldn't imagine the body of the woman these clothes were made to fit, but I knew that--with the expection of the shoes, every peice of these enchanted clothes were going to fit themselves around me just fine.    

"Let's get your bra on for now...but we'll hold off on the rest for the moment. I want to show you off and check in on some naughty little ladies downstairs."

The leather gloves that had been gently but firmly wrapped around my wrists let go--but before I could make a move, I felt their linings sail over my fingertips as every digit was imprisoned in the living leather gloves. They playfully wiggled my fingers, then held them out in front of me as if I was a girl admiring her own nails. As the green bra approached, it unclipped and turned itself around to slide its straps over the cooperative leather gloves, and my arms with them.

The shoulder straps still had to loosen a bit to accommodate me, but once the band clipped behind my back, the unseen bosoms in the cups inflated drastically, pushing out the scalloped cups and leaving me to contemplate the empty space between my broad chest and the hollow lacy orbs jutting 6 inches out in front of me. The gloves clamped around the well-filled bra, seeming to seat and center the form against me.

"Come on, ladies..." The witch beckoned. Don't keep me waiting up there. The outfit I expected to be jailing my body later slinked by me, holding out an invisible hand at the end of a satin sleeve. My black leather glove was more than happy to clasp it, and together we sailed down the escalator as the stockings followed behind us.

As we reached the foot of the escalators, I Iooked at the massive entry to the anchor shop, where the gate was now drawn and closed.  In front of it, a couple of empty police uniforms stood at the ready, seemingly ill-fitting around bulging curves in the hips and chest that their original wearers obviously didn't bear. The hollow sleeves were still and at-attention, the hovering caps holding steadily over empty collars in comparison to the other clothing dancing about the store, frolicking and swirling about.

And then there were the officers themselves.

I saw one of them against a wall, whimpering. He was dressed in tightly inflated women's jeans and a curvy red sweater, his hands high against the wall and his legs spread. Behind him was a magically possessed police uniform (his own, actually, though I certainly couldn't tell it from the others), the ends of its empty sleeves moving up and down the smooth, tensed denim. He groaned when a sleeve went between his legs and stayed there, sliding in and out.

"Taste of his own medicine," A silky voice whispered in my ear. Still hovering in the magical green lingerie, my leather gloved hand still clasped to the nothingness at the end of an emerald sleeve, I turned to my other flank to see the witch hovering beside me. She gave me a peck on the tip of my nose. "Hard to look away from all this, isn't it?" She asked, motioning to the floor again.

Two more cops were dancing with each other, both their faces turned from each other in embarassment and disgust. One was dressed in a garish blue ball gown, white stockings and opera gloves, his arms wrapped around the other in a gold sheath dress, again packing curves that didn't belong on its wearer. The held one whined at the other to let him go as the officer in the ball gown grumbled about not wanting to be doing this anymore than he did.

"Now come along and let's finish your look." The witch sailed in front of me again, my eyes fixed on her leather ass as the invisible force in my green panties tightened around my cock again, coaxing it harder.

As we drifted through the first floor, we came to the makeup counters,  where a few more dressed-up, subdued officers and unwitting husbands were forced to sit. Compacts, lipstick and mascara covered around them. Brushes dotted and stroked, wax sticks painted uncooperative lips in coral and cherry, and mirrors hovered in front of the stunned or frustrated faces.

By now, shock and disbelief had stilled most of the testosterone in these victims, but around the corner, one cursed and screamed at an eyeshadow applier bobbing threateningly close to him. His wrists were held by leather gloves, and his body was held inside the curves of a skimpy tube top and a khaki skirt.

Across from the man, a young black-haired latina hovered in a seating position, her legs crossed. I could be forgiven for staring; she was clad in black leather knee-highs, a pink miniskirt and a tight white tee with nothing under it, boasting erect nipples. She was laughing as she waved her hands, sending more cosmetics off the shelves and into the air, surrounding the inconsolable brute.

"How goes it?" My new guardian asked her, hovering over and kissing her on the cheek.

"Wonderfully," The latina said, her glowing eyes meeting mine for a moment. "Except for miss bitchy here." She looked back at him. "But we're gonna make you the cutest little chica whether you like it or not, aren't we?"

"Fuck y--ough!?" As soon as he opened his mouth to retort, another animated glove stuffed itself into his mouth and made a fist, tightly gagging him.

"Now that isn't very nice," The young witch pouted. "The meaner you get, the meaner I'm going to have to get," She grinned. She made sweeping strokes with her finger, and the makeup began painting on his face again, far more exaggerated and garish than what I saw happening to the others. "Now him, though..." The latina said, looking at me and hovering toward my suspended body, "He looks like a good little pet." I looked at the ground, trying not to stare at her perky tits wrapped in soft white cotton. "Aww, and so modest, too! May I?" She asked the full-figured witch.

"That's why I brought him here," She purred. "He's been firing off nothing but worship and lust since he saw us."

As I considered what that meant, a tanned hand reached under my chin and lifted it, bringing my eyes back to her smiling face.

"Ooh, look at you..." She said. "Those eyes are almost silver, aren't they?" Her hand stroked my cheek. "Very androgenous facial structure too--not like the caveman over there," she motioned to her victim before looking back at me. "Worship, hmm?"

"Indeed." I must have shot a confused look at the full-figured witch, because she raised her eyebrows and smiled. "Yes, darling,

She pouted. "Cassandra, I want this one. Can I have him? Pleeeeease?"

"Sorry hon, I've already promised him away." My cock hardened again at the thought of being property to these sorceresses. I suppose my submissive nature pretty much meant I was doomed from the start. "She might share him, though."

The latina leaned in close, looking down into the gap between the panties and my waist.

"I hope so," Her eyes went wide. "There's certainly enough to go around." She reached up and stroked the emulated pussy in the green panties, making me shudder delight. She giggled and reached up to grab a handful of lacy invisible tit. "Whatcha think, hot stuff? Wanna be my dolly?" I simply nodded, my lips trembling. All I could think about was her body clenched around my cock, my back craning to suck her bouncy tits. "Hmmm...well, let's get you all pretty--and then we can let your new owner decide if she's gonna lend you out."