Household Magic

Household Magic 5

Everything was in it's place in Erin's room. She was sitting on her red and black bedspread with her hands just over the fabric. Her mary-janes dangled off the side of the bed at the end of her crossed legs. Her own outfit from earlier sat across from her in a chair. Erin's eyes were closed, her breathing steady. She was putting her studies to practice.

What the book called “The Mana Stream” was becoming more and more clear with every breath. The stuff of magic seemed to be made of pure sensation, and when she breathed it into her body, she could force the sensation into anything—inside or out. This was the charge principle.

The Mana, that raw stream of sensation, had a life all its own. Learning to dance with it—letting it trickle over her body—she learned how it flowed, and how her own reactions fed into it. With enough consciousness of those reactions, she could play with the Mana around her. This was the flux principle.

Erin focused on the bed beneath her. She could feel stored emotion radiating from it. She had started practicing in the living room after some intense reading, and while there seemed to be Mana everywhere in the house, it was strongest upstairs, and stronger than anywhere else on Erin's own bed.

It's incredible, she thought. In one afternoon I find this whole other level to...everything? She ran her hands over her bed as she inhaled. The faintest hint of lilac drifted into her senses, and Erin felt her body relax. Warmth came through her palms and fingertips, and at the peak of her breath, she was overcome by a giddy feeling and the scent of honeysuckle. God, the bed's like a well of it.

She knew why. The book explained that Mana existed everywhere, but was concentrated wherever one found life and life's strongest interactions. The greater the force of will in the interaction, the more residual Mana it left behind. In these places were echoes of released energy—energy lying dormant, invisible and intangible to anyone without the knowledge or ability to perceive it. She'd spent a little under a third of her life on the bed. She dreamed about every crush, lamented every problem and prepared for almost every important day of her life on it.

The feeling was unbelievable. The energy cycling through her hands was in her bed the whole time, and it only took some reading and a couple hours of practice to perceive it. But if that's true, Erin wondered, how much does Mom know? Had she studied the book? What reason would she have for making up the “gypsy blessing” story?

She lost the thought to the giddy feeling still welling within her. Pins and needles were at her fingertips now as feathery traces raced up her arms. Erin took a deep breath and shook her hands out. She could still feel the tingling running up her limbs, and now it was flowing up her shoulders, tickling her collarbone and the base of her neck. She let out a giggle.

I gotta let this charge out on something, Erin thought. She stood up and walked toward her closet. She was still flicking her wrists, trying to shake the tingling Mana out of them. It's not like when I practiced downstairs...this feeling's all hot and tingly. She grabbed the first pair of jeans she saw on the shelf. Good enough.

She unfolded the jeans, gripping the sides of the jeans with her hands. As she contracted her fingers into the soft denim, she exhaled, filling the form with the giddy lilac electricity she'd taken from her bed. The tingling feeling sparked out of her fingertips and into the fabric. The giddiness subsided like laughter dying down, and Erin held the jeans out in front of her.

She felt the jeans getting lighter. She let her grip get looser and looser before finally letting go of them. Seeing all the things she'd seen that day hadn't prevented her from gasping a little when she took a step back.

She was the one who enchanted the jeans; it wasn't just some side effect of whatever her Mom's “gypsy blessing” was. She'd looked over the wealth of animation spells, but from what she discerned, what was happening around the house could be caused by a number of spells, or countless combinations of spells in concert.

Unlike the active effects happening around the house, chores doing themselves, clothes filling out and forming outfits—what the book called “automatic recursive behavior”—Erin's jeans hung in space as if they were held to an invisible clothesline with transparent clips. She could almost sense the flatness of them—the way they draped to the floor from hip to hem. The cold brass of the button and the zipper, the simple stripes embroidered across the back pocket...

Oh. Oh shit. I do feel them. I'm—I'm in them. She hadn't expected it. It made sense, though—she directed the charge that filled the jeans. The sensations of denim and brass weren't her own, but at the same time, they weren't alien. Her charge somehow extended her sensory-perception to the object. So if I'm in them, I can feel them...

Erin closed her eyes, and the sensations became stronger. It was a strange kind of synesthesia that let her feel the shape the jeans were holding. She knew--not by sight, but by sensation--that the zipper was at the 7th pair of teeth from the bottom.

...and if I can feel them through the charge...then I should be able to flux that charge. Erin breathed in. As the lilac hit the back of her sinuses again, she felt a flutter go from her chest and down into her stomach. She followed the feeling as it rolled through her hips and down her thighs. In a moment of perfectly-divided concentration, she contracted her legs and tightened her ass as she focused on the feel of the hovering denim before her.

All at once the hips and ass of the jeans plumped out to Erin's petite curves. Slightly-puffing cylindrical thighs tapered to knees and shapely rounded calves. Erin watched the jeans fill up as she lightly bit down on one of her fingers. Her magically extended nerves were overwhelming her. As the denim tightened, she could feel the pressure pushing against every square inch of the fabric from three feet away. As the tiny brass zipper stood up and climbed the track, Erin could feel the sets of teeth meshing together.

After the button-hole curled around the brass button at the waist of the jeans, her new extension felt satisfyingly complete in a way she had no human explanation for. She took a couple of deep breaths and put her hands up as if to steady the hovering jeans. She took two steps back, and they stayed aloft and tightly filled out.

That's so cool. That's so cool. I did it. I feel them standing there, but I can move around. Okay. Okay. Now... She put her mind in the form. She wrapped her awareness around the whole article, from hem to waist. Walk, she thought. The pants didn't do anything. She walked around to the back of the jeans and repeated the command. Walk forward. Nothing.

It took her a second to realize that language wasn't what the pants were waiting for. She never had to tell her own legs to walk in order to walk. She had to feel the difference between her legs and the jeans' legs, and focus on using the jeans alone. She placed her attention on the jeans again, putting her mind inside them. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of lifting a hollow denim knee. Something in her lit up, and she opened her eyes to see if there was any effect.

The leg lifted! It was a little flimsy at the knee, but Erin understood why. She could feel the slack of the fabric as if it were a part of her body. She tried projecting a tight ballooning sensation to the fabric, and like flexing a muscle she wasn't quite used to using yet, the knee slowly puffed up as she drew her concentration in.

“Yes!” She shouted aloud. It could only get easier from here. She used the same method to have the jeans take a step. They did, dropping the suspended leg in front, lifting the opposing leg and moving forward. Erin let out something between a giggle and a squeal. These weren't just aimless spells—this was focused magic power. This was all was exciting before, but now that she was actually learning the principles behind the forces, she was starting to realize what a quick study she was.

Mine, she thought, taking a step in her own body. Yours, she thought, projecting another step to the jeans. Me, she repeated, jumping up in the air and landing. You, she thought as she made the tight denim form leap into the air and “land” again, with its hems suspended just above the floor.

Now she tried something a little more complex. She climbed up on her bed while she walked the empty jeans over next to it. She didn't turn back to the jeans until she was sitting on her bed, and by now they were taking one last step to stop right in front of her.

Butterflies. A fluttery, spacey feeling. She did both things at once, felt both things at once. She wasn't 100% sure it worked until she turned around and found her jeans in the exact same position she expected them to be, and then she realized how silly the thought was.

Of course they're where I expected them to be. She raised her hand and snapped her fingers. I didn't just expect to do lift my hand and snap my fingers, she thought. I did it. I made it happen.

Looking at the jeans, she moved back on the bed, leaving space between her and the edge. A second later, one of the legs bent at the knee and pulled itself up on the bed. The other leg hopped up and followed. Now Erin and the jeans sat on their knees across from each other. The hips of the empty jeans shifted to their side and the calves rolled out from under the thighs of the jeans and stretched out.

Now the jeans were laying on the bed, still filled out. Erin leaned in close and looked at them. It was insane—this article of clothing was an extension of her will. She peered down at the cuff of a leg and leaned down so that she could see straight up through it. While she was looking into the hollow denim space, she reached out a hand and moved it toward the pant leg.

She jumped a little when she touched it. She could feel the touch from both sides, and it wasn't the same as tickling one's own feet, for example, which typically results in less sensitivity than if someone else is doing the tickling. This was very much the opposite. Not only did she feel the denim of the jeans on her fingertips, but she felt those same silky fingertips against her denim leg, for lack of a better way of putting it.

It was too strange and wonderful not to try again. She felt her denim hips roll over on the bed, leaving them face down. She sat at the ankles of the jeans and placed her hands on each leg slowly. She could feel the warmth and the pressure of her flesh and blood hands against the inflated denim skin. As she moved her hands up the back of the calves, she bit her lip and let out a little moan.

She stopped just below the back of the knee. Her face was flushed. Her breathing was heavier. The feedback sensations were so overpowering, but they felt too good to resist doing more.

Erin had studied a couple of the basic ideas for a matter of a few committed hours, and she was amazed at what she'd already learned. The book was huge, though. As amazing as all these feelings were, this was still only the beginning of her exploration.

She continued. Her hands slid over the back of the knee, and up the thighs. When she met the well-shaped curve of the butt, she stifled another giggle trying to break its way out of her. Then it occurred to her: she was getting jolts of giddy sensation touching this form on her own in the least bit. What if it were something a little more direct? What if, for instance, someone else tried to put them on?

She felt a tap on her shoulder. When she turned around, she saw the pair of black leather gloves.

“Get tired of waiting for me?” The fingers danced in front of her, moving closer. She held up a finger. “Wait. Not yet. I think I've learned enough for the day, but now I want you to practice with me.” She extended her hand toward a glove. “Let's go downstairs.” The glove gripped her hand and gently pulled her to her feet. She let her mary-janes and socks walk her forward as she set her mind on the jeans again. Halfway down the stairs, Erin decided to find out if she could manage to control them without being in line-of-sight.

In Erin's room, the small but tightly rounded hips of the jeans perked up. The thighs of the denim went vertical, hoisting the shapely butt into the air. From a kneeling position, the jeans tumbled forward off the the bed to land standing next to it.

Erin could already tell that she succeeded. As she walked into the living room under the direction of her tight skirt, knee socks and mary-janes, she was mentally occupying the jeans in her bedroom. It wasn't just a guess—she could feel the cuffs of the legs standing inches over the carpet, magically repelling the floor. When she walked forward, the feeling just got better. She could feel the strut in the jeans, the tightness at the hips and ass as one leg moved in front of the other. Something suddenly stopped her. Not directly, but somehow she knew to stop the jeans. She could feel something in front of them, blocking her way.

She was trying to grasp exactly what the feeling was as the leather glove holding her hand led her to the couch again. Susan's sundress emerged from the kitchen, a tray with a pitcher and glass of ice water floating in front of it. Erin thanked the dress with a nod and a smile, still trying to keep her concentration on the jeans upstairs.

Something soft was pressing against her, but she didn't find any signs of misbehavior from her own clothes when she looked down. The realization snapped her back to the jeans, and now she realized what she was feeling. Erin's mouth curled into a smile.

Upstairs, the green hot pants and white tee were bent over in front of the jeans, backing it up and pushing their invisible green booty against the front of the denim. Slowly, the hips of the jeans started to sway with the bounces of the aggressive butt jumping in front of them. Before long, it looked like the jeans were happily riding the buxom white tee and shapely lime shorts in front of them.

You started it, Erin projected to the tee outfit as the jeans backed them up. The tee's massive breasts pushed against the wall in the hallway as the jeans relentlessly bounced forward in rhythm. Downstairs, Erin could feel every impact like it was pushing against her own body. She picked up the glass of water and gulped it down, giggling as she slammed the empty glass on the table.

“Enough!” She shouted from downstairs, still in a giggling fit. “Like I said, a little more practice first.” Erin's sweater kneaded her tits out of protest, and it wasn't being subtle. She watched herself heave back and forth, gasping when she felt her tits pushed together. If that wasn't enough, tiny knit folds formed at her nipples, pinching the flesh beneath and tweaking her into a moan.

“Oooooh, noo. Not yet.” The pinching and kneading relented, and she felt the sweater softly tighten around her, almost like a hug. “Mmm, there you go. Just a little longer, then I promise I'll play. You've already got me in the playing mood, so it's not like I have a reason to back out on that promise.”

She still didn't totally understand how the sense of awareness worked, but she knew the moment the tee and hot pants outfit started down the hall toward the stairs. She had the jeans follow while she was occupied downstairs with the leather gloves.

“I knew you were trouble the moment you messed with me,” she said, stroking the back of one of the soft leather hands. “Now make sure everything stays in line, help me with a couple more things,” Erin descended into a whisper as she leaned closer, “and I'll let you do all the nasty things a free pair of hands can imagine.” An inch away from the disembodied glove, she kissed the back of the soft leather again and again, moving up the back of the index finger all the way to the tip. “We do have a deal, don't we?”

The free leather glove leapt into an “okay” sign, making it the most enthusiastic “okay” Erin had ever seen. Now her overfilled t-shirt rounded the corner with her green short shorts stepping beneath them in an emulated strut. The jeans followed into the room a couple steps behind.

Erin stood up and walked over to the jeans. If she could control them from a distance by placing herself inside them, could she also place herself in something without being right next to it? Walking the jeans downstairs without being able to see them helped her to understand a little more about using the Mana as a sense in itself. Since she'd already discovered it was strong in her room, couldn't she navigate her way through it and make her mind seep into something, say, in her closet?

She ran her hand around the rim of the jeans empty waistline as she let her mind drift...back up the stairs, into her room, back in the closet...

It was an old zip-up hoodie. It was big, soft and comfortable. She'd had it for years, and it was the most familiar item that she was sure would be clean and still in her closet. At least she thought. She hadn't seen everything that danced off of the shelves to be packed in her bag.

It was a dark haze at first. Like when she started, she couldn't tell what she was feeling. It was like groping in the darkness until...something like autumn air. She locked on to it and concentrated harder. It felt like something dense and puffy. Something with...

“Arms!” She said downstairs, snapping her fingers. Her exclamation broke concentration, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She drifted back into the darkness and tried to seek out the same sensation, and this time there was no groping around. Knowing what she was looking for helped. She felt the soft, thick cotton billowing up with her shape. She filled up and flexed the sleeves, and the hood rose up and hovered over an invisible head.

Erin walked out of the living room and waited at the bottom of the stairs. Despite the fact that she could feel the zipped hoodie drifting out of her bedroom and into the hall, she had to be at the bottom of the staircase to see it with her eyes—the sense she'd been using for almost 20 years. Sure enough, there it was, modestly filled out and bobbing downstairs.

It was amazing. Her mind took a flying leap into one of her own garments without even being in front of it. As she walked back into the living room, she had the sweatshirt following her drift atop her magic jeans. She felt a tingling around her waist, where the two garments touched. She hadn't noticed it before (maybe because she wasn't moving the jeans), but now it was clear that she had three different and unique sources of sensation—her own body, and the two garments she was occupying.

She turned around and looked at the t-shirt and green shorts. The fingers of the leather gloves were curled around the exaggerated phantom breasts, but they jumped to the outfit's hips just after Erin looked back.

“I saw you,” she said, laughing. “Any ideas on this?” She looked back at the outfit hovering in front of her. “I'm thinkin' there's got to be a way to fuse it—to make me perceive it as a whole outfit.” She had the hoodie hovering over the jeans a few inches to stop the stereo feedback effect that occurred when the clothes touched each other.

The black gloves drifted away from the tee and shorts and grabbed the book on the table. They opened it to a page and held the tome up in front of her. It was the CHARGE page. But weren't they already charged?

“I did charge them,” Erin said. One glove held the book open while the other pointed a finger at the word CHARGE at the top of the page, going over it again and again. “Charge them again?” The free glove gave a thumbs up, and Erin shrugged. It was worth a try.

She stood an arm's length away from the outfit and started breathing deeply, focusing on both of her extended forms as a single outfit. The hoodie hovered closer to the jeans, stopping just short of touching. Erin pulled free mana from the stream, guiding it through a circuit. She channeled it into an extended hand while pointing the other at the outfit. The tingling raced from one side of her body to the other, making her wiggle as it worked its way across her nerves.

When she started the distribution, though, she noticed something—some wall in her senses dissipating. There was only one stream of mana flowing to a single source. She stopped the charge.

It felt different. Certainly simplified, but something was off. She was back down to two bodies, but something felt disconnected, like she had a draft in her midriff. She instinctively smoothed out the red sweater she was wearing, but she was covered. Then the feeling came to her—the gap in the denim and cotton cylinders and the air flowing through it...

It was her other body. She did it. The charge occupying the two items was now unified, and she could feel the gap. The hoodie fit itself over the waist of the jeans, and Erin sighed, now feeling complete.

“Thanks,” Erin said to the gloves. “I guess that worked like a charm.” The free glove gave her the 'ok' sign and floated back toward the white tee and green shorts combo as the other placed the book on the table and joined its mate with the outfit.

Now it was time to try something new. She already knew how it felt to touch the clothes she was projecting into, but was it the same when she used the projected clothes to touch her? She made the outfit take a step closer to her to test it. At her command, the sleeves lifted and pointed themselves at her. Erin breathed out and closed her eyes.

The ends of the soft cylindrical sleeves rested on her shoulders, and while she could still feel some sensory feedback, it wasn't the same as when she was teasing the thighs of her jeans. There was a cozyness about the sight of the hoodie, and it made her want to try something else.

Erin stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the waist of the sweatshirt, simultaneously making it drape its sleeves over her shoulders. All the feedback points made her giggle at first, but as she and her hoodie held the embrace, the giddy feeling subsided.

Weird. I'm hugging myself—kinda. Erin ran her hands up and down the back of the hoodie, taking it in as she felt fingers dance over the cotton skin of her ethereal charge. She went lower, gliding over the back and down over the butt of the jeans. Even though she was expecting it, she gasped a little when she grabbed the denim butt and clinched her fingers.

It was uncanny. Her fingers were performing the action, but at the same time, she felt the action as if someone else was grabbing her ass. She dug into the denim with her fingertips, pressing against it and sinking deep into the ballooning fabric. She was curious about exploring what she could do on the fabric end of the sensation. How much control did she have over the fabric itself if her charge was in it? Was it limited to her shape, or did that just happen to be the default?

She figured the best way to test would be to make the jeans tighter. Erin had an idea of how to do it using a simple mana flux, but she hadn't tried it yet. She focused herself again, keeping her hands gripping the backside of the other outfit. As she put herself inside and concentrated on filling the fabric, she felt her fingertips pushed back by the stretching denim. She kept going, feeling the giddyness welling up in her.

I haven't touched but a dozen pages of that book, and I can make my own clothes walk around without me in them. The jeans were still getting tighter, stretching every thread in the ass to capacity. Erin was so caught up in the events of the afternoon that she didn't even notice the denim becoming tighter than the skin of a drum. She was only getting more excited. The rest has to get more complicated down the line, doesn't it? If everything in this book were so easy to learn, why would the person who last had it ever let it go?

The pants continued inflating until the stitched started popping. It didn't just affect Erin's ears, either—she felt painless little tweaks running the length of her lower body, all along where the seams of the jeans would be. It was more than enough to finally remind her to stop the inflation. She tried to squeeze the ass of the pants again, and there was almost no give at all.

She ran her hands over the nearly-bursting curves of the denim, feeling the sensation on the other side as a gentle caress. It almost worked too well. There was so much pressure against the surface that the jeans seemed nearly solid. She moved her hands lower to explore the thighs despite the fact that she could already feel the overextended shape of the jeans from the inside. She ran her hands down the sides of the thighs, over a seam ready to split. Every square inch of the fabric was pushed to its limit. Erin finally released the outfit and took a step back, allowing the outfit to drop its sleeves back to its sides. One of the pant legs of the jeans raised just slightly, and a couple more stitches popped. Erin felt a crackly tingle near her hip. Though it wasn't painful, the feeling was irritating enough that she didn't want to know what it felt like to split a seam entirely.

I should play with that flux idea some more. For one, those jeans need some...whatever let out of them. She looked up at the droopy sweatshirt and got an idea. She drew her focus into the outfit again, becoming more conscious of how its shape felt. The blue denim relaxed and shrank back just a bit as the sweatshirt began to inflate. It was like she was breathing them out through the waist and into the hoodie. Erin felt the flux moving up through the top of the sweatshirt's torso, making the shape of the mounds in front a little less subtle.

“Wanna help me with something fun?” Erin asked the gloves. They began to hover over to her. “Wait, wait—everyone. The t-shirt and shorts too.” The outfit followed behind, standing at attention with the gloves a second later. “I want a dancing partner.” The glove extended a hand toward her, but she held up a finger and shook her head. “No...that me.” She pointed to the other empty outfit. “I'm already good at moving around in this body.”

As the gloves moved with their ensemble toward the hoodie and jeans, Erin already had the sleeves extended and waiting. Erin herself grabbed the TV remote off the table and turned it on, flipping it through music channels until she reached something slow and orchestral. On the other side of the room, she felt the gloved outfit take the hoodie by the—hand?

It was there. She felt it. As she looked across the room, the fingers of the gloves were intertwined with something unseen at the end of the sleeve of the hoodie. That something unseen was her own ethereal hand. The gloved outfit led the first step, and despite her surprise at the ghostly extension she spontaneously manifested beyond the clothing, she followed suit in the jeans and hoodie outfit.

It wasn't quite waltzing music, but the timing worked out to be the same and that's what the step reminded her of. Despite the various disciplines and devices that had become outmoded in schools in the last century, somehow the ballroom dance unit wasn't one of them. The waltz isn't exactly something you forget how to do, so it wasn't hard to follow the gloved outfit's lead.

She stepped gracefully back, repelling the floor before drifting up again and being pulled toward the gloved outfit, which shifted toward the hoodie and gave way to a closed position. A warm tingle went down Erin's spine. Now the outfits were comfortably pressed together on one side, and Erin felt a glove moving around the back of the hoodie, pulling it closer. Erin draped a sleeve around the white t-shirt in response. At the end of the other sleeve, Erin tightened her charged ethereal fingers around the leading leather glove. It squeezed back.

Oh my god...this is too much. Erin went to the couch to sit down, giving her a chance to relax and focus on the wonderful floaty sensations she was receiving from the dancing outfit her will occupied. After a few dance steps, Erin began to realize how light she was in the clothes. The feeling was there before, but it was more of a footnote when she was learning how to make them move around. Now that her ethereal fabric body was interacting with a leading dance partner, being pulled into place by rhythm and motion, she realized her ethereal charge didn't weigh anything at all. It was only carrying the weight of the clothes.

As her invisible ethereal form was led around the room by her capable and equally invisible partner, she watched the gloved outfit swing around her. The sensations were all so addictive. The soft, massive breasts of the t-shirt pushing up against her own body, the outfit's confident lead and the occasional flirting squeezes the leather gloves either exchanged with her ethereal hand or delivered to the curvy denim with the other.

She was being dissolved in it. She sat quietly on the couch, deep inside the sensations of the clothing and barely even aware of her own eyes watching the dance. She focused on the hoodie's arm draped around the t-shirt, trying to manifest another ethereal hand to match the other sleeve. She imagined rubbing her dancing partner's shoulder, and out of the haze came the sensation of fingertips against the ultra-soft fabric of Erin's old white t-shirt. She pulled the invisible fingertips across the back of the phantom shirt, and one of the leather gloves responded by exploring the curves of the denim more carefully.

“I've probably had enough practice for today,” Erin drifted through the words, watching both the outfits in a kind of dream state. “I think it's time we had some fun now.” The sleeve draped around the tee came forward now, sliding the ethereal fingers at the end over the front of the shoulder. Erin felt the sleeve sliding against the massive white orb at the front of the tee, its inertia responding and bouncing back with the consistency of a water balloon. Erin slid the sleeve lower, lining her ethereal fingers up with the fullest part of the tit. She gently made contact with the cotton, just barely tracing all five invisible fingertips across the surface of the fabric.

The extended leather glove of the outfit dropped Erin's other ethereal hand almost the moment she started caressing the outfit's chest. It clasped against her hip and reached around behind her. Now both leather gloves were working over her denim ass. Erin could feel every feather touch and clinching finger pressing against her body as she sat on the couch. She wandered deeper into the outfit's sensations, anxious to see if she could pull something really amazing off.

Something in Erin's arousal made the charge easier to call, the flux easier to manipulate. Beneath the hood she tried to perceive herself—not just as the shape of her face and head, but as the dwelling space of her senses. It seemed to be another grope in the dark, though. There was the chin, the feeling of a mouth opening, of eyes blinking...but no senses outside of feeling the physical presence of the head and the face. She could perceive that it was there, but she couldn't use it to see, smell, taste, or hear.

There had to be a way to do it. Touch was just another impulse like anything else, so...

The gloves moved up the hoodie's back, their disembodied arms no longer matching up with the sleeves on the t-shirt. The phantom hands began rubbing the thick cotton shoulders under the hood, and Erin could feel every powerful motion of the massaging leather fingers. At this point both of Erin's ethereal hands were pawing all over the shirt, pressing the unbelievable tits together and letting them go. The shirt happily puffed out as Erin teased the hardening nipples at the front and grasped invisible handfuls of heaving softness.

Then some kind of buzzing entered her head. Though it was familiar, her psyche's focus was drawn so far outside her body that it took it a second to register. It wasn't buzzing that she heard. It was vibrating. She looked beside her on the couch. Next to her was the pink egg, hovering in the air again. Erin plucked the remote out of the air, dialing the power to low.

Very, very intent on using that on me, aren't you? Her eyes went wide when the toy pointed its slender side to and fro, appearing to nod at her. It was meant to be a thought, but she realized she must have projected it when she actually got a response. She couldn't help but laugh.

Did you really just hear me? Another nod from the floating toy. It's in my mana charge, isn't it? Another.

She held off on getting nasty with this force before because she didn't know anything about the book or the magic inside. With the book revealed to her and the basics of the mana pool unlocked, she understood the magic. Her concerns were alleviated. Erin was surrounded in possibility and on a high from the insane experiences she was having. She was ready to know what a magic orgasm felt like.

She giggled again at the egg hovering in front of her while she started hiking up her tight miniskirt. All she did was start, and it continued pulling up her thighs on its own. Her red sweater started in again, and she felt the knit bend and push against her, gently rolling her breasts as the fabric teased and pinched the hardened points behind it. She reached her hand down to feel her soaked panties, but just before her fingers touched, the black cotton pulled away and slid aside.

She let out a satisfied sound, singing out over the music as she touched her own soaked clit. She cooed, slowly sliding a finger between her hot folds, wetting it in her juices. The outfit tangling with her own at the other end of the room only made her hotter—the gloves had come down over the shoulders of the hoodie and were now kneading and massaging the mounds in the zipped sweatshirt. One of Erin's ethereal hands continued playing with the balloon-like tits in the white tee while the other stroked the front of the green shorts. She felt tingling sensations against her ghostly hand at the shorts. Clearly sex and mana were closely related.

I'm ready, Erin projected, her thumb on the remote. Show me what you've got. She was ready to feel both of her bodies taken over the top by the magic permeating the house. The egg drifted smoothly down toward her waiting sex when she heard a loud bang.

It was a door slamming, and it came from the driveway.

“Shit!” She exclaimed, sitting up on the couch. She heard two faint male voices approaching. “Hide,” Erin hissed before remembering the projection. Don't let anyone see you but me! Her skirt rode back down on her, and a leather glove grabbed her ethereal hand. The outfit ran out the room and up the stairs, pulling Erin's jeans and hoodie along behind it. She was so caught in the sensation of being led back into her room with the other outfit that she didn't notice that the egg hadn't left. It was shut off, hovering beneath her skirt just outside contact with her skin.

She heard Ryan slide his key into the door. A split second later, she gasped as the egg nestled itself between her folds, keeping itself mostly outside and pointing its slender end upward toward her clit. The remote flung itself from her hand, floating into the kitchen and around the corner. Oh my god, how could you do th--

“You're home!” Ryan said after bursting through the door. His grin dropped when he looked at the short skirt and knee socks. “Are you, uh, going somewhere?”

“No,” Erin said, trying to come up with anything else. “I actually just got home.” To Erin's horror, another guy Ryan's age walked in. “Erin, Ian; Ian, this is my sister Erin.” Every hormone in Ian's body cried out when he saw her. Heels, knee socks, a miniskirt, and a sweater with deadly curves to match. This was Ryan's sister?

“Nice to meet you,” Ian beamed, holding out a hand. He was silently praying all college girls dressed like this. Erin's clothes walked her forward in a hippy strut, the sleeve of her red sweater extending her hand to meet his. Erin went with the motions as naturally as she could, but as soon as she grasped his hand, the egg shifted in her. She squeezed his hand harder when it happened, and while she held back an audible shudder of tactile delight, her face twisted into a grin. The force she'd promised playtime was making her look like a flirt.

“Nice to meet you too,” Erin said, the words spilling out a lot more pleasantly than she wanted them to. Ian blushed after Erin's seemingly playful handshake. It wasn't going to get any easier for her either—while she'd momentarily paused her play in her magically charged outfit, its cohort hadn't reciprocated. Splitting her focus between composing herself downstairs and holding back the advances happening upstairs was more difficult now, especially given her vulnerability to the toy between her legs.

She wanted nothing more than to get upstairs, but as she tried to think up an excuse, she saw the floating remote hovering through the den behind her brother and his friend. Not wanting them to see what she saw, she did her best not to react.

“What are you guys up to?” Erin asked as casually as possible, turning and heading toward the kitchen. Ryan and Ian followed.

“Ian's going to hang out here tonight since we're off tomorrow. How about you?” Ryan looked through the fridge while Erin headed to the laundry room. Ian's eyes were locked onto the tight denim miniskirt shifting back and forth with every step Erin took. He thought he heard something like the buzz of a cell phone, and the shapely body in the laundry room doorway stopped for a second. Was it a shudder?

One of Erin's hands jumped up and gripped the frame molding. Upstairs, the gloves were moving all over the surface of the jeans, playing between their legs, grabbing the curvy shape in back. She'd just gotten into the doorway when she saw the remote still bobbing through the den. It had given the egg a quick jolt and turned it back off again. Erin knew her reaction had to be evident this time, but no one behind her spoke up, so she turned the corner and hoped for the best.

Ian stared at the empty doorway, practically drooling. That sound, her reaction to it...was she using a...

“You hungry? We've got frozen pizza...” Ryan said, breaking Ian out of his trance.

“Sure,” Ian barely responded. “Sounds good.” As Ryan prepared the pizza, Ian stared back at the doorway, hoping he'd get another glance at the bothered goddess that had just turned the corner.

In the den, Erin approached the hovering remote. As she reached her hand out the grab it, she felt her sleeve stiffen against her. The remote dialed up, and the egg vibrated between her legs. Erin went limp, her clothes holding her up so that she could absorb the quick, dense pulse riding up her clit and lighting up her body.

Stop, Erin projected, pleading in her mind. Let me get upstairs, or even take me upstairs and...

“Hey, what's this thing?” Came Ryan's voice from the living room. “Erin, is this old-looking book yours?” Erin let out a quiet gasp, and the egg shut off. Erin felt herself released. She took a quick breath and started toward the living room while the remote remained hovering in the den.

“Yeah, it's mine. Pretty cool design, right?” However tuned up and teased she was, keeping this secret was a top priority. It was best to be casual here. There was absolutely no need to let Ryan know this tome was important, let alone an actual book of magic. Ryan chuckled as he leafed through a few pages.

“Pretty authentic looking,” Ryan said. “Where'd you find something like this?” He handed the book to her without a fuss.

“Some used bookstore downtown,” Erin said. “They buy and sell used textbooks, and I found it while I was leafing around.” Better than saying a Gypsy gave it to her, but then again—Ryan only saw the book. She didn't have to try and come up with something to explain away magic.

Ian listened to the siblings talk in the living room, but his eyes were still staring through the laundry room door. He saw a shaded shape dance against the wall of the room and snapped out of his trance, trying to see what it was. Ryan asked Erin talked about their weekends while Ian stepped closer to the laundry room. He heard some shuffling noises coming from nearby, and he knew it couldn't be either of them. Did they have a cat?

He walked in to see what looked like a small 3-button remote, fixed in an impossible point of space above a wash basin. It had to have been hanging from a wire, but it was perfectly still. When Ian reached up toward it, the remote dodged toward the den. Ian yelped and jumped back a little. Right after it happened, a cabinet above the basin opened, and two stacks of towels dove atop him.

“Dude, what are you doing?” When Ian pulled the terry from over his eyes, Ryan was standing at the kitchen door.

“There was this--” Ian looked back toward the doorway. No sign of the ghostly little remote bobbing through the air. “There was--” He looked around the corner in the den. Nothing. “I was looking for plates and napkins. For the pizza.” Ryan held up a hand and pointed toward the paper towel dispenser in the kitchen, and Ian laughed. “Sorry, man. Let me fold these up.” Ian grabbed a towel to refold when Erin came into the kitchen. His eyes jumped around to exposed thighs and wonderfully tight parts of her sweater before settling on her face and jumping away from her again entirely.

“Everything okay?” She asked, holding the old book.

“Yeah,” Ryan sneered. “He's fine.” As Ryan bent down to grab a towel, Erin disappeared around the corner again. Ian watched until she was gone. Right after she left, he swore he saw something small and plastic peek around the doorway and slip away.

“I think that away game killed me,” Ian said to Ryan, still folding towels. “I need sleep, or caffeine, or something...”

With the book in her arms, Erin started toward the stairs. The remote zoomed past her and hovered over the second floor landing, dialing up the egg as Erin took the first step. She gripped the handrail, feeling her fluids accumulating and dripping around the egg. Her intention was to stop, but her clothes kept her moving up the stairs. Every other step she took, the intensity of the vibration got more intense. The egg swam in her juices, teasing her clit with its end. It rode between her engorged vulva and her soaked panties, sliding back and forth with every extended leg.

Erin hoped she'd be able to get off in peace without any interference, but this was a forgone conclusion as far as the magic in the house was concerned. It wouldn't allow any more interruptions. Erin's black mary-janes marched her up the remaining steps and turned her toward her bedroom. The two outfits were inside, still messing with each other and transferring another body's worth of sexual advances to Erin's nerves in the process.

I'm going to let you do everything, Erin projected. But before you push me any further—maybe you know of a sound dampening spell? Erin's bedroom door clicked shut as the book bobbed over to her, flipping its pages along the way. Erin read through a page titled BARRIER OF SILENCE as the vibrator maintained its hum, wiggling back and forth against her.

It was actually easier to bring mana to her under a state of arousal, though a little erratic. She was building the tingling feeling all over her as she focused on executing the spell. She felt the mana flowing out of her fingertips, but there was no visual effect to tell her the spell was working. She'd attempted to make the barrier one-sided so that she could hear everything going on outside her room, and sure enough, even through her heavy breathing and the vibrator she could hear muffled conversation coming from downstairs. She had to know if it worked.

Shut it off again, She projected. It's the last time. I just want to be sure. Instead of doing as she asked though, the vibrator dialed still higher. She let out a low and quiet moan, holding the volume back. Noooo...wait. There was no mercy this time; the vibrator kept pulsing through her wetness.

Now the leather glove and white tee outfit headed toward Erin, pulling an ethereal hand of the jeans and hoodie Erin had charged earlier. One of the black gloves pointed at Erin as the other pulled her ethereal hand toward her own flesh and blood body.

It was almost a tackle. Erin felt something tingly brush against her midsection, and a second later, the hoodie and jeans fell right into her. She landed back on her bed, and it took her a second to untangle the sensations of falling into herself with an ethereal body.

Now laying over herself, she held the ethereal hands at the end of the hoodie's sleeves against her own wrists. She was holding herself down. She looked up to see the hood wrapped around an invisible head. With the egg still vibrating at her clit, she felt leather fingertips at her inner thighs, exploring closer to their junction.

She could feel the tingling in her wrists, and as the leather gloves pulled her denim miniskirt up around her hips, her wet black panties started playing with her ass again. She started another charge as she stared at the hoodie, thinking about the ethereal hands again, still curious if she could take the experience a step further. She slid the ethereal hands off of her wrists and interlocked their fingers with her own.

It was a rush of energy—something like mana feedback started pulsing through her hands. By now, the leather gloves unbuttoned the skirt, slid it down carefully over her mary-janes and dropped it. She tightened the denim legs around her own, and now the gloves took it upon themselves to take the mary-janes off of her feet.

As her black shoes walked themselves over beneath the hovering boy shorts and tee, the gloves were at her sock-covered toes. She pumped raw mana into her ethereal self, trying again to feel the face inside the hood from her ethereal perspective. The gloves were starting to drive the soles of her feet wild with some well-placed leather fingers, and the teasing arousal only pulled more mana into the system.

“Ooooooh...” Erin's full body moan escaped without inhibition. Her legs were shaking, her muscles involuntarily contracting against the socks, trying to pull her feet out of the way of the teasing fingers. She let go of her flesh-and-blood hands, finding them pinned down by the sweater when she tried to move them.

Her focus became saturated inside her ethereal form. She moved her unseen hands down to the hem of of the red sweater and tugged it up, revealing her tank top. It brought another rush from both sides; she was experiencing the impossibility of being in control and helpless at the same time. As the sleeves of the hoodie climbed higher, her invisible hands pulled the sweater over her chest. The tight fabric slid over her nipples, making her toes curl.

The mana was flowing around her freely now. She was right on top of her bed—the strongest source in her room. She locked her focus onto the ethereal body. It had been drifting back and forth between both, but now she moved with purpose in the invisible form. The hoodie's sleeves pulled the tight red sweater over her head, pulling her arms up behind her. With one ethereal hand, she held her flesh-and-blood arms down, bound up in the soft red fabric still covering her forearms. Her other invisible hand gently found the contours of her face, and she felt warm ethereal static over the point of contact.

“Kiss,” she whispered in her own body, barely aware of it. She could feel it now—the anticipation of a trembling set of ghostly lips, a moist tongue against unseen teeth—the sensations were as present as the ghostly hands against her own body. She leaned in until she could feel her own breath against her phantom cheeks.

Kiss, she projected into the room. When she made contact, it was just barely. She touched the invisible electric lips to the pair she'd seen in the mirror every day of her life. There was a tickling spark like trying to sip soda while the carbonation's still fizzing. It only drove Erin to dive in.

As she pressed the phantom lips against the pink pair beneath them, she felt her response on the other side. She opened her mouth and let her form's magically charged tongue invade her physical senses. She was surrendering to herself. She'd teamed up with the force in the house by learning how the force worked, and now she'd learned to take self-play to another dimension.

As both of Erin's bodies got bolder, so did the things she wasn't controlling. The egg slipped itself inside her and tuned itself down to a low, heavy vibration. The leather gloves that had been at her feet climbed her shins as the knee socks began slithering off of her legs at their own accord. The gloves leapt up and grabbed the sides of her black panties, sliding them down just slightly and stopping. Erin paused her make out session when she noticed the hesitation.

Whatever you're thinking, go for it and don't hold back. I wanna unleash just as bad as you do. Just as the projection went out, the gloves pulled her wet black panties over her hips and down her silky thighs. Erin's invisible form dominated her visible one, and she kissed herself more hungrily with every boost of mana feedback. The red sweater held her arms by itself, leaving both of her ethereal hands to examine her thin white tank top. She wasn't gentle with the ethereal hands; one of the advantages of feeling the sensations from both sides was that she knew exactly how rough was just right.

Unseen fingers wrapped around her tits, pressing against her and grabbing handfuls at the front of her tanktop. Erin made a pleased-sounding hum through kissed lips as her ethereal hands played over her, alternating between force and teasing touch. The gloves had pulled her panties all the way down her legs, slipping them over her feet after the socks had pulled their way off. She opened her eyes for the first time since the kissing began. She had to see it happening. There was the hood moving gracefully over her, and occasionally the could see her nose would move when the phantom face pressed against it. Looking lower, she could see her tits being manipulated by her magic hands at the end of the sleeves, the indentations of invisible fingers tracing around her nipples and teasing her.

One of the gloves returned, hovering over the sticky sweetness between her legs. In time with Erin's next deep kiss, the glove wet its leather fingertips with Erin's juices and slid them against her clit.

“Make me cum,” Erin whispered between kisses. Make me cum, make me cum, make me cum.

She felt the another glove at her thigh, pushing her leg out and away from its opposite before doing the same with the other. Once Erin's legs were spread, the glove squeezed itself between her ass and the bed, running one of its fingers down her crack. She pulled against the red sweater at her forearms, her hands begging to relieve every part of herself being prodded, squeezed, massaged and teased.

“Make me cum!” This time she shouted it loud enough for the walls to reflect it back at her, but they didn't. Though she heard herself shout it, the silent barrier spell swallowed up her slutty exclamation, preventing it from escaping her room.

She felt her ethereal body getting lighter and lighter. There was something she wanted to try, and she had to reposition herself. She kissed herself one last time before she levitated the jeans and sweatshirt a few inches over her solid, quivering body. Now the hood of the outfit hovered down below her belly, shifting down again as the leather glove made way.

The taste of her own mouth was so deliciously appetizing to her magical body...but if her mouth was sweet, her pussy had to be sweeter.

Existing in two states at once was strange. Her ethereal copy was hungry, horny, and commanding; her flesh was submissive. But it wasn't just the way she could carry two distinct attitudes—it was also each's perception of the other. She was awed by how insatiably nasty her thoughts were getting and simultaneously uninhibited in her plans to dive between her own legs and work her clit with her new magic tongue.

As the invisible lips hit her junction, the electric danced up her clit and the egg inside her started spiraling slowly. From inside her physical self, Erin could feel every sweep of the tongue. From the other, she could sense warmth and wetness all over her unseen mouth.

Her scent was all over her transparent energy form. She could taste herself. She'd done it. Now senses beyond touch were coming through her magic copy. Erin watched with unflinching eyes as she made her ethereal copy pull off its hood. Now she could see her clit and lips being manipulated by her own invisible mouth. Erin planted her heels into the bed and started thrusting against the mouth, panting as she watched herself sucked and licked. Her nearly weightless ethereal copy moved accordingly, locking her lips to the bucking pussy no matter how erratic the ride got.

With her phantom self lapping at her clit, the gloves floated up to Erin's chest. The leather fingers began to prod and tease her hardened nipples. The red sweater still held her arms, and she could only react with faster mad thrusts into the supernatural self-cunnilungus.

“YYYYYES!” Erin let her voice out now, and the white tank top leapt up and over her head. The soft black gloves dove on her exposed tits, and Erin's other self reached under her thrusting hips and grabbed her tensing ass with invisible hands. Thoughts of her silence barrier, the two people downstairs and the rest of the world outside no longer had room in her mind. She was exploring herself in a way that shouldn't be possible, with all the benefits of domination and submission. It was an insane paradox of sensations bringing her closer and closer to climax.

When Ian went to drop off his stuff in Ryan's room, he couldn't help but notice how silent it was upstairs. No radio, no TV, no sound at all. He lingered in the room for a second, wondering what he'd see if the wall in front of him were transparent. She probably stripped herself out of those showy clothes...maybe into a soft and equally showy robe. Maybe she wasn't wearing anything at all. While he was lost in his thoughts, he felt himself perk up downstairs.

He was being a creep, and he knew it. It was time to drop his bags, think shrinking thoughts and head downstairs. But he didn't. His hand tightened around his backpack as he stood in the silence. He felt a tingling dancing up his half-flaccid cock, and his eyes widened as he looked down at his shorts.

“I'M GONNA COME, IMMGONNACOMMMMME, GAAACOMMMMMMMME...” Erin's voice didn't even break into words after that. It was frantic, animal howling. The egg gently shifted and twisted to hit all the right places on the inside while Erin's magic tongue spiraled her into clitoral orgasm. She had her thighs wrapped around her invisible head. The groping ethereal hands at her ass sent her lower half thrusting into the air while her upper half remained held to the bed.

The surge of mana momentarily puffed out the form of the hoodie, and Erin's ethereal hands and mouth had a new sexual fire in them. The sensations flowed down into her magic pussy, flooding it just as the echoes of her physical copy's orgasm washed over her. Erin felt another release, this time at the end of her magic copy.

Erin's bed started shaking and jumping. Drawers pulled themselves open and clothes were inexplicably tossed all over the floor. The closet doors opened and closed, almost breaking off their tracks. Erin didn't notice the busty white tee outfit floating thrusting itself into the air along with her knee socks and black mary janes. The indentations and motions of the fabric at the front of the green shorts revealed that Erin wasn't the only one getting something from the enormous sea of mana invading the room.

She wasn't sure if she meant to do it or not, but after her orgasm peaked, she pulled a massive charge. The mana in the room shadowed what she'd experienced before by at least a factor of ten, and when she pulled it in, it felt like hot and sweet cinnamon fire flowing through every cell of her body. It wasn't like the uncontrolled tingle she felt before when she pulled a bit of mana into her hands. She was feeling invigoration. The enchantments in the room slumped and fluttered to the floor as Erin absorbed the mana in the room.

Now her hoodie and jeans laid flat at the foot of her bed. It was the same for the t-shirt and shorts on the other side of the room. The leather gloves remained filled out, but they sat folded over Erin's stomach. Her eyes stared through the ceiling of her room as she returned entirely to her body. All the augmented energy, all the release—she'd pulled it all back in, and she felt different. It was almost a feeling of power, and she wondered if she might be enjoying it too much.

She was kidding herself; she couldn't help it if she wanted to. It felt good. She looked over at the book resting on her desk. She had to have a way to keep studying it, but she couldn't let her mother know she knew anything about it. She needed a plan.

Erin didn't notice the fast and nervous footsteps walking past her room and heading back downstairs. Ian wondered how long he'd taken and thanked god there was a bathroom upstairs to give him an excuse for taking so long. He cleaned himself up as well as possible with paper towels and wondered silently to himself if all 18-year-old guys were this perverted.

It was so strange, though. He'd never done anything so ridiculously bold, so blatantly taboo. It was almost like he was compelled to do it—like there was some irresistible force that had taken him over and wouldn't take no for an answer. He'd just say he had to use the bathroom. Beyond that, he hoped Ryan wouldn't ask any questions.