Household Magic

Household Magic 6

From the moment she left the house, Susan didn't have to do a thing. She was nervous about leaving Erin alone with the forces occupying the house, not because she didn't trust the harmless but mischievous magic, but because she wasn't sure if Erin had the sense to keep it a secret. She was glad she didn't reveal the book to her—it just would have been a temptation that would've complicated things.

Her car drove her to the bank all on its own. She was nervous about the vehicular autonomy at first, knowing she was responsible if the magic force controlling the car made even one wrong move. But it didn't. Susan couldn't help but stay alert at the surroundings, but the car itself anticipated everything. The steering wheel turned under her hands and the gas and brake pedals moved under their own power. It stopped for red lights, negotiated a freeway ramp, and even found a parking spot at the dry cleaners. All the cooperation had Susan believing she was going to have a nice, relaxing day.

Susan's dry cleaner was open until noon on Sunday, and Susan had just made it. There was a lone car in the parking lot besides her own; the other couple of stores in the plaza were closed. Her high-heeled boots marched her toward the door, and when she reached for the handle, the door flew open on its own. Susan was relieved to see that no one was at the front counter to see it happen.

As a chime went off, a middle-aged woman came around the corner, from behind hanging racks of plastic-covered clothes.

“Susan! Thank goodness. I can close up now.” The woman looked down and whistled. “Hey, fancy kicks.” Susan's boots turned her around, posing themselves. Susan just smiled and tried her best to look natural.

“Thanks, Margie.” With the acknowledgment, Susan's outfit brought her up to the counter. “Did I give you enough time to get everything done?”

“Let's go see. Give me a minute, I've got some other things Andy forgot to pick up last week.” As the woman tuned the corner to the back again, Susan's checkbook hovered out of her purse and onto the counter. As she put her hand in her purse to grab a pen, one sailed right past her fingers and out of her purse, uncapping itself and drifting to the checkbook, which now held itself open.

“Stop,” Susan whispered under her breath. She grabbed the pen and tried to direct its motion, but it went on looping and whirling out the name of the dry cleaner, duplicating Susan's handwriting perfectly. Just as she was about to protest again, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Two dry cleaning bags had lifted themselves off the rack and were now drifting over the counter and past Susan. She gasped when she noticed the door holding itself open. The bags silently drifted right out of the building, making a bee line for Susan's car. She couldn't very well stop them with the pen still dancing over the check by itself. She could only watch as the bags loaded themselves into her car. The door was shut again well before the woman emerged with four bags.

“This is everything plus a suit of Andy's,” she explained. She rang up the total, and the pen pulled Susan's hand over the check again, gliding over the surface and filling in the amount. The pen stopped when the check was filled out, but Susan didn't want to take any chances, so she kept her grip on it as the tore the slip from her checkbook.

“See you next week...” Susan smiled, holding out the check. She was anxious to get out of the store before anything else happened.

“Sure thing, Suze! Talk to you then.” She took the check and placed it in the register drawer, failing to notice that the garments on the counter started sliding toward Susan before she had a chance to grab them. Susan reacted quickly, grabbing the group of hangers and moving with the items as naturally as possible as they pulled her toward the door. “Enjoy what's left of the weekend.” Susan smiled and waved, and it didn't hit Margie until her customer was well on the way to her car: how was she holding the door open?

Outside, Susan's outfit were in full control of her motions. She was thinking about how the spell following her had swiped more yet more clothing without her involvement. What exactly were in the first set of dry cleaning bags, and what made them decide to fly themselves into her vehicle? The door popped open on it's own, and Susan couldn't help but look around the empty parking lot to make sure no one was watching. Her own dry cleaning bags pulled themselves out of her hands and flew into the car, sliding between the front seats and placing their hangers on a back-seat hook. Susan was pulled into the car a second later, her outfit gracefully and gently shifting her body into the seat.

The door slammed, and her car started itself once more.

“So now we're headed home, I assume.” her vehicle shifted into gear and drove itself out of the parking lot. Susan was expecting a left turn; the steering wheel spun right instead, heading further into town. “Well, I see you've got other plans,” Susan frowned. “I hope they don't involve turning me into an even bigger thief than you've already made me.”

They did, in fact, and Susan came to the realization when her car drove around the back of another strip mall down the road. While this one had a few open stores, the rear parking lot was rather empty. There were only receiving docks, steel doors and the occasional car.

“Oh, no no no—I don't know what you're up to, but if it has to do with any more garments I'm betting it can't be legal. What if you get me caught?” The shoulders of her blouse contracted around her in response, gently sweeping up and down in an attempt to relax her. “That's all fine and well,” Susan grumbled, “but you can't--”

Her car stopped. It was idling in front of a short delivery truck at a receiving bay. The steel door next to the bay read CLARETTA'S DESIGNS in plain block letters. Her heart dropped when the small side door of the delivery truck popped open. The trunk of her car did the same.

“Hey!” Susan protested. “Someone's going to see this, and when they do--” She noticed the scent of leather a split second before a sleeve came from the back seat and wrapped around her mouth, muffling her. She continued spouting unintelligible curses from behind it as her eyes darted back to the truck. A couple of plastic shipping cases hovered out of the opened side access and bobbed their way into her trunk.

It was no use trying to fight. Her outfit wouldn't let her move, and the truck door closed along with her trunk. It was over as quickly as it happened, and her car shifted back into gear as the sleeve released her.

“Starting to overstep your bounds a bit, aren't you?” Susan said, turning behind her to see a sexy leather jacket filled out to a woman's shape in the back seat. It put a sleeve on her shoulder and rubbed it. “No,” Susan said. “You can't just do with me as you please. Like I said, you're going to get me caught, and though I know that might not hold any consequences for you, it--” Susan gasped.

The waist of her skirt was starting to shift on her. The lower hem began pulling itself up her thighs.

“Oh god, no. Don't start that now. I'm flustered enough without you getting inappropriate with—w-with...” The sides of the skirt pressed into her like a pair of hands holding her hips. She felt her panties nuzzle their fabric against her, gently playing between her legs as Susan let out a frustrated moan. “No-ooo...Don't do that.”

Susan kept her eyes on the road as the advances continued. Her car headed for the highway ramp, accelerating as the hem of her skirt jerked higher up her legs. The soft teasing between her legs and her lack of control over the situation began to turn her body against her still-defiant mind. Her sleeves kept her hands down—effectively pinned to the seat. Her car and her clothes handled everything else.

Much as it only seemed to have playful intentions, the boldness of the magic was a little disconcerting. After all, she hadn't told Erin about the first morning she'd been dressed by her own magic clothes. She didn't know how to broach the subject. The experience was arousing, and she wasn't shameless enough to talk about the psuedo-sexual thrill she'd gotten from the naughty motions of her outfit—least of all with her daughter.

With the magic pulling her focus to her own arousal once again, she couldn't help but wonder how Erin was faring at home.

After her mana-infused orgasm, Erin felt something different in herself. She was tuned in to something that she didn't have the right words for yet, some sense that wasn't completely developed. It was like feeling heat or hearing sound vibrations, but with the same energy being used to power the magic going on in the house—the same energy that Erin had trained herself to feel and harness.

Despite all the energy she pulled back into herself from her mana-soaked room and the enchantments she'd created, she could feel more radiating naturally from all around her. She focused on the ceiling, imagining a mirror image of herself staring back at her.

She took a deep breath. When she let it back out, she closed her eyes and felt a floaty feeling. She let the senses come to her—and though it wasn't quite sight, she could sense her ethereal self floating close to the ceiling. She drew herself down, turning and heading toward her door. She still didn't quite understand how the presence worked, but she could feel the cold brass of the doorknob. She knew her intangible self was close enough to reach out and touch it—to turn it...

And her eyes popped open. She was looking at the ceiling again, but she could still feel herself elsewhere.

“It's even easier this time,” she muttered to herself, sitting up and looking at the door. She squeezed her ethereal hand around the knob and felt the smooth weight of it. “No way.” Keeping in gripped in her other self, she stood up and walked toward the door. When she was next to it, she waved her hands around.

A little shudder escaped her. She felt tingling in her arms and another kind of static all over her ethereal body except where her intangible hand was touching the knob. She shook her head a little, then slowly moved her hand slowly toward the door again.

The static hummed just a bit in her copy, and her corporeal tingling was barely registering at her fingertips. Even if she didn't perceive her ethereal shape as a specific body, she still occupied a semi-definite area. She pulled her hand away, and the hum stopped.

She gripped and turned the doorknob with intangible fingers, smiling as it seemed to turn on its own.

“Oh, this could be so, soooo bad for me.” The door swung open, and she heard a soft, patting noise from behind her. She looked to see the leather gloves clapping. She smiled and bowed, looking back at the book on her desk.

She had no need to turn back to the door to make her ethereal fingers close it and lock it once more. She walked over to the gloves, holding out her hands. The leather fingers reached out and slipped between her own, grasping her.

“Listen, I have no way to thank you for showing me all this, but...” A glove let her hand go. It pointed at her, pointed back at...well, itself--if there had been a person behind the hands—and then made the 'OK' sign. Erin laughed. “Well—thanks all the same. But listen...I don't want mom to know that I know that book exists.”

The other hand let her go, and both of the palms turned up. Why?

“She had her own reasons for not telling me about it. Whether she was worried, nervous, whatever—I just think it's easier if we keep my studies between you and I.” The gloves flew over to her desk, grabbed the book, and flew back to her, holding it out.

“Oh, I still want to study—I do. That's why I was wondering if you'd help me with a favor.” One of the hands gave her a thumbs up. “Here's the deal. You help me copy some of the spells out of the book, and I'll bring you back to school with me.”

The gloves didn't waste any time. They sailed back to the desk and placed the the book down, opening it up. One glove sailed to a cup of writing utensils, grabbing two. The other grabbed a stack of printer paper. After a quick shuffle, each hand scribbled quickly over the paper, each of them holding a fine-tipped archival ink pen.

Erin watched in awe. As one of the gloves turned a page, the other flipped its sheet of printer paper over to the opposite stack. Both resumed their scribbling just as quickly, and Erin continued to watch as another pair of pages were copied in well under a minute.

“Whoa. Are you going to do the whole thing?” Between turning pages, one of the gloves flashed her a thumbs up. She looked around at the clothes strewn about her room. She supposed she could stand to practice this a little more in the safety of the sound barrier before she headed back downstairs to face anyone...”

She sat back on her bed again, placing her palms down and taking a deep breath. She focused on the red sweater laying on the floor, putting herself in it. The red fabric puffed out softly, slowly filling to Erin's rigid curves as the waist stayed at rest on the floor. As the shoulders and sleeves filled, Erin extended them and then brought them in toward the tight fabric of the bust. She couldn't help herself—a laugh popped out of her as pressure from invisible fingers worked their way into the softness of the red woven swell.

Getting on with business, she imagined her copy lighter and lighter as the sweater lifted off of the floor and hovered over her. She looked up at the hollow shape of the sweater, putting both arms up and waiting for the inevitable tingle that would come when she slipped the sweater her copy was wearing over her physical form.

The tight sweater pulled over her tank top, her breasts falling into the same space occupied by their ethereal copies. The same sweet cinnamon energy that ran through her when she was playing with her ethereal copy manifested again for a split second as she absorbed the sweater's charge. She took another breath as the red material situated itself on her, and it was just a sweater once again.

Next were the hoodie and jeans sitting on her floor; she was able to make the entire outfit spring to life in a flash. Closing her eyes again, she let herself be enveloped by her ethereal senses, and before long the outfit was swooping back and forth, grabbing the other clothes on the floor and placing them back where they belonged.

When she opened her eyes again, her hoodie and jeans outfit were closing up her closet. She walked the invisible form inside back over to stand in front of her, and she stood to meet it.

“I guess this probably counts as a pretty bad form of narcissism, but I've gotta try it again.” She leaned in close to the hood, turning her head just so. With her soft lips just barely open, she felt the electric tension move through the erogenous zone, giving her butterflies in her stomach. Her corporeal lips met her ethereal ones once more, and she lingered for a few seconds, mingling tongues with seemingly empty space until she could take no more.

She blinked a couple of times, getting a strange effect from the awareness of seeing herself in a different form. It wasn't so strong before, but the practice was probably responsible for that. Her perceptions from the ethereal side were getting clearer—more vivid.

With the room cleaned up, she imagined herself losing form. The sweatshirt began to slump, but before she left the charge entirely, she folded her shoulders in on themselves, making the hoodie land squarely in her real hands, folded perfectly. With the jeans, she did the same, making them leap into the air before performing the acrobatics that would make them land, folded, atop the sweatshirt.

Mostly formless in her intangible body again, she only needed feel the two ethereal hands gripping the outfit as she watched the items hover over to her bag. The zipper stood up, manipulated by invisible fingers as the bag opened to accommodate two more items.

The gloves went on copying the magic tome as Erin approached them again.

“Hey, are you going to be okay if I leave you to your work?” They didn't cease at the duties, flashing her a thumbs up again only when it was time to switch pages. Erin figured that she wouldn't have to worry about it so long as she kept the sound barrier spell up. She paced back to the door, looking over at her mary-janes.

This time, she didn't give the command or occupy them as they danced over to her waiting feet. Just as she turned to look for the knee socks she was wearing, she felt soft cotton flex against her ankle. This was the house's doing—only now, there was a kind of subservient vibe in the actions of the enchanted items. Instead of just slipping themselves on her, like she assumed they could, it was as if the socks were asking permission.

Erin loved it. The entire situation only got more interesting as time went on. She held her foot up, and the open end of the sock swallowed up her toes, gliding over her foot and pulling itself on. She felt it hold her foot aloft while the mary-jane jumped onto her foot.

The idea of her wearables having wills all their own didn't make her think twice anymore. Her foot was pulled back to the floor, and she picked the other up, allowing the other knee sock to slide into place. Once the other shoe was buckled on, she gazed at the door again. The knob began turning on its own, but she held up her hands.

“No, no—let me do it. I need the practice.” The motion stopped. Once more, Erin focused on her presence beyond the bounds of her physical self, feeling the cold brass of the knob. It turned carefully with a shift of her thoughts, and the door slowly pulled itself open. She let out an approving “hmph”. The action wasn't anything new for her now, but as she kept practicing, the ease with which the focus came continued to surprise her.

Before she could make a move, her socks and mary-janes stepped her out into the hallway. Just as she passed through the threshold, it felt like her ears popped. Now she could hear Ryan and Ian's faint banter downstairs in the kitchen, but the miniscule scribbling left her senses entirely. She turned around to see the gloves still working, but she couldn't hear a sound from her room. As she headed down the stairs, she split her focus with her ethereal fingers, pulling the door shut once more.

“ I guess that's what they're doing tonight, if you wanted to head over there for a couple hours,” Erin heard Ian say as she made her entrance. Ian's eyes locked on her while Ryan took another bite of his microwave pizza.

“Where'd you run off to?” Ryan asked will a half-full mouth. “It obviously wasn't to change into something more comfortable.”

“I was reading a few emails,” Erin said, returning Ian's gaze with piercing assertion. He diverted his eyes back to his meal. Sarah couldn't be sure of why she sensed it now, but he was radiating mana. It was too difficult to ignore. “Have you guys seen my car keys?”

Ryan only shook his head, but Ian was more than happy to be helpful.

“Pink lanyard, right?” He looked back up at her to see her eyes still locked on him. Erin couldn't help herself. He was cute enough, but what really made her curious was the energy she felt from his direction. It only took her a split second to project a part of herself in very close proximity to Ian's waist.

“Yeah,” Erin said casually. “Pink.” She let her moist lips hang open after the punch of the 'k' in her last syllable, simultaneously teasing the end of Ian with an ethereally projected pussy. Ian dropped his pizza onto the plate, letting out a surprised grunt. When Ryan turned to him, he was still staring at Erin. Ryan turned to his sister, who was looking at Ian with a raised eyebrow. “So you've seen them, or...?”

“Right in the entryway,” He cracked a little, recovering from something he wasn't even sure happened. “You hung them up on the keyhooks.”

Erin headed back toward the entryway. It wasn't nice of her at all, and she wasn't really that attracted to this guy—but the energy was so playful, so jumpy and out of control—she just followed the mana. Was what she did entirely her idea?

Erin came back into the kitchen with her keys. “Thanks, Ian. Suppose I should've looked there first.” She smiled at Ian. Ryan rolled his eyes.

“Hopefully this means you're going somewhere?” Ryan asked.

“That's not nice,” Erin pouted. “It's not like you get to see your big sister every day anymore, Wwwwyan.”

“Oh, not for my sake--” He smiled, looking at Ian. “But this one can't even focus on a task as simple as eating when you're--” Ian shut him up by socking him in the shoulder. “Damn.”

“Deserved...” Ian said, flashing a smile back at Erin just long enough to see her own. The radiating energy was still there, but it seemed to shift somehow. He was glowing before, but now that glow was focused to more of a beam. More organized. Confidence? “Where you headed?”

“Not sure yet.” Erin felt his eyes on her as she swung the lanyard around. She released it, and it swung up over her, falling behind her back. She followed the trailing lanyard with the senses outside her body, reaching back and snatching it up with the other hand just in time to catch it. “Just getting out of the house.” Something caught her attention elsewhere, and it only took her a second to realize what it was. “Crap--gotta grab something.” She ran out of the room, and Ian turned back to Ryan. He waited until he heard her stomping up the stairs, but just when he opened his mouth...

“Don't want to hear it, man. Don't say it.” Ian laughed a little and nodded.

Erin looked at the stack of papers on the desk as the gloves continued.

“Hold up a second, I want to see how much.” Both gloves dropped their utensils and grabbed the finished pages, shuffling them even against the desk. I wasn't until Erin saw three neat holes in the pages that she noticed her hole punch on the desk next to the finished stack. One of the gloves held on to the stack while the other went to grab a small three-ring binder. The binder was set down, and the glove popped open the rings before helping the other disembodied hand put them in place. They snapped the rings shut and flipped through the pages. The binder slammed shut, and the gloves presented it to Erin.

“Wow, it looks like you're almost halfway done. Thanks!” One leather glove gave her a thumbs-up while the other patted her gently on the head. She laughed and took the binder. “ that I know what I know about the mana, there's something I want to try out. Are you going to be okay finishing this on your own and putting the book back before Mom gets home?” Another thumbs-up. “Cool. I'll be back in a while.” Binder in hand, she walked to her bedroom door and stopped.

“Remember—tomorrow you're coming back to school with me. You're going to be able to behave yourselves, right?” Both hands held their palms flat and tilted back and forth. So-so. Erin had to laugh. “Whatever. I'll keep you in line.”

She pulled the door open with her thoughts and let it close gently behind her as she walked downstairs. The gloves went silently back at their job, scribbling page after page of the magic tome and punching holes in the copied pages.

Erin poked her head into the kitchen. “Alright, I'm heading out.” She looked at Ryan. “I probably won't see you tomorrow; I'm leaving early. You gonna be around later?”

“Probably not--we're heading to a party. See you during Thanksgiving, I guess.”

“Keep out of trouble, boys.”

As she turned around and headed back to the entryway, she kept her ethereal attention in the kitchen, drifting toward Ian's midsection again. From formlessness came fingers, and she opened the door. With fingers came, as she closed the door, just-the-slightest...touch. In the kitchen, Ian jumped a little. Ryan laughed and shook his head.

“It was the door, man. What's with you? You're all nerves and tendons today.” Ian looked back up at him.

“I'm sorry, but I gotta. Your sister is damn h--” Ryan socked him in the shoulder before he finished.

“I toldja I didn't wanna hear it,” Ryan said. He cracked a smile. “Besides, I owed you one.” Ian rubbed his shoulder.

“Well—should we head to the party?” Ian asked.

“Sure,” Ryan said. “Let me get changed, then we're off.”

All the way down the sidewalk, Erin was stifling a laugh until she got into her car.

Susan was thankful that her car was finally on its way home. Her car sped to three more stops before going back to the interchange that would take her back the sleepy cul-de-sac, and by now the car was filled with dry cleaning—both hers and not hers---some boxes, and a few plastic shipping crates.

Whenever she made a comment about getting caught or tried to plead to the car to let her drive herself, the response came from her clothes in the form of teasing, caressing and restraining. She admitted that she didn't put of much of a fight, but she really really had a need to. The control was so gradual. At first the car took her to the bank ATM, just as she'd planned to do. Then there was the misbehaving at the dry cleaners, when a bunch of extra items (she still had no idea how many) invited themselves along with her. After that—she was just along for the ride.

Shopping. That was the point all along, but it was almost as if—once the forces around her understood her intentions—they shopped around a bit themselves. And then it hit her: Shop-and-wash. Cook-and-clean. Some-thing-maid-that-stays-unseen. She'd changed a couple words in that spell on her own. Was that all it took to turn a household helper into an intangible thief?

And once again—it was all gradual. She had no intention of bringing back the items that followed her home, and it was like an indirect endorsement. This afternoon, the forces took the action to the next level.

Enchanting stolen clothes wasn't the only thing it took to the next level, either. Her panties got particularly dirty, tapping against her clit when she sounded any vocal protest, and playing around the bud of her ass when stimulating her pussy wasn't enough. The soft stillness of restraint forced her to focus on the motions of her living underwear. She couldn't deny it to herself—by the last stop, she started making noise just to feel them move against her again.

When her car pulled into her driveway, there was only an empty garage. No Erin, no Ryan, no Andrew. The car pulled carefully into the garage and parked. As soon as the car turned itself off, the automatic garage door went down.

Susan waited to be taken out of the car, but nothing else happened. No doors opened on their own. Her clothing was motionless. She looked over her shoulder to see the car packed to the top of the seats. She had no idea what was in all these things or how she was going to find room for them all. She took a deep breath and pulled at the door handle, opening the car door on her own. After being led around or restrained all day, she stood up and got out of the car by her own free will now. She shut the driver's-side door and just as she was about to place her key in the door to the house, it popped open on its own. So did the rear doors and trunk of the car.

“Cute,” Susan said as her cargo began lifting itself into the air and hovering toward her. She walked inside the house, and everything followed behind her: two large plastic attached-top shipping crates, four large cardboard boxes, about a dozen small cardboard boxes, and at least thirty hangers worth of dry cleaning that wasn't hers. “It's nice that you got all this stuff for me, but aren't you going to get Margie in trouble? That's a whole lot of dry-cleaning that--” The bundle of hangers in bags drifted over to her, and she could now see a note attached on the front:


“Well, aren't you sneaky? Looks like you took the right pile.” The hangers of the thin plastic-wrapped clothing shifted themselves around until a silvery cocktail dress drifted out in front. Still under its plastic sheeting, the chest of the dress was the first part to inflate, followed by the hips, rounding out to feminine curves as the straps sloughed off the hanger. The plastic pulled itself away, and the shining silver dress hovered in front of Susan.

Behind it, more hangers were shuffling around. A sharp looking black silk blouse filled out inside its bag as well, and the glossy sleeves reached down to pull up the plastic. In the meantime, a pair of grey stretch cotton dress pants slid off their hanger. They landed on the floor cuff-first, filling out to a shapely pair of legs. The top buttons of the silk blouse undid themselves, allowing the item to slide away from its hanger and settle atop the waist of the pants. Other items were busy coming to life as Susan approached the cocktail dress.

It was gorgeous. Even better, it probably fit her. She could tell from a couple of the other items still lifeless inside their bags that it wasn't the case for everything—but most of the things that were being animated looked close to her shape and size. Susan ran her hand down the back of the cocktail dress as she looked around at the other items.

Classy office clothes, formal eveningwear...all of them with impressive names stitched into the labels. It seemed strange to her that things like this would be left at the cleaners and never claimed, but then again—how many out-of-towners or commuters used the place? How many changed phone numbers? Lost their claim ticket? Susan laughed. It was like she'd taken in strays.

Now, with half a dozen outfits out and about in the room, Susan wrapped her arms around the back of the cocktail dress and gave it a squeeze from behind. She was home, and no one else was. She leaned in, just above the space of the strap and whispered.

“So what's in the boxes?” Most of the packages were heading around the corner and up the stairs, but after Susan asked, a large box, a couple of the smaller ones, and one of the plastic crates hovered into the living room. Susan felt the dress pulling away from her. She let it go, and the other outfits followed the silver-grey cocktail dress now sauntering its way into the living room behind the floating packages.

Tell-tale sounds of packing tape ripping itself from cardboard came from the living room. She followed right behind a deep blue evening gown, turning the corner to the living room in time to see the cocktail dress seat itself on the lap of the black silk blouse and gray dress pants reclining in Andy's leather chair. A shiny black sleeve wrapped around the dress, the end reaching up to one of the round, silvery breasts. On the couch, the tan pants and blazer crossed their legs, seated next to a pair of creme-colored suede pants and an incredibly-stacked pink sweater that had to be cashmere. The evening gown took its place at the end of the couch, and behind it--a tweed skirt and jacket stood with its sleeves on its hips.

The boxes ripped themselves open, with the exception of the plastic shipping crate. The outfits in the living room comfortably shuffled themselves in their positions. Except for the two outfits beginning to flirt with each other on the leather chair, they all seemed to be watching Susan. She watched the cocktail dress squirm and shift under the invisible groping hands filling silk sleeves, caught up in the action until a sleeve extended, pointing toward one of the small boxes.

Susan pointed at it herself, and the silk blouse stopped playing with the cocktail dress for a second and reiterated the pointing motion. They wanted her to have a look. She came over to the coffee table where the small boxes were stacked, pulling back packing paper to reveal plastic bags with a few pairs of underwear in each.

It had to be a lot. She pulled the bag out, seeing that there had to be 10 or 12 pairs neatly pressed and stacked on each other. The first bag was filled with dark-colored satin panties and marked SIZE 10. Another had light-colored seamless microfiber briefs, also SIZE 10. It made sense that the force would get it right—based on the animated outfits from the dry cleaners, it was pretty good with details.

By the time she reached the bottom of the box, she'd laid out 6 bags. Looking at the other boxes, she realized how much she had left to see. She caught the motion of the black silk sleeve, now pointing at another of the small cases. Susan laughed.

“Okay, okay! I'm just taking it all in. There's a LOT here.” She reached into the second box and pulled out a bag of satin bras in solid colors, packed in a similar way to the underwear sitting on the table. She pulled out another package, these ones two-toned with lacy trim. “No sizes on these,” she muttered, “but I'm guessing that--” The bag pulled itself out of her hands and popped open. A couple of lacy bras hovered out and took shape, the rest dropped on the table in front of her. “--these are my size.”

One of the bras hovered in front of her. The elastic of the straps tensed as invisible shoulders seemed to fill them, and the cups swelled as the hooks danced together. The playful form bobbed closer to her, and she reached out, mesmerized by the dancing lingerie. Her fingers slid beneath the underside of the lacy trim. She reached under the center and hooked a finger around where the cups came together, pulling it closer to her.

Susan placed her other hand over a cup of the bra, pushing against it. She thought of how all this came to be—the magic slippers, the house cleaning itself—she thought of how gently it treated her and how playfully Erin reacted to it.

Then she thought about how she felt when her clothes dressed her, how her own outfit practically seduced Andy all on its own—and then how it silenced her protests earlier in the car. There was a sensual component to the way the force went about certain things, but it wasn't imposing or threatening. She was reluctant to dive in at first, but her car ride made her wonder what was possible when she was asking for the kind of stimulation it showed her. A smile curled across her face.

She placed her hands on the cups of the filled out bra hovering in front of her and pushed them together. They gave way a little bit, like she was feeling up the invisible woman. It certainly looked like it would fit her.

A button of her blouse slowly undid itself, and she didn't even take notice. She released the bra in her hands and reached back into the box, pulling out a bag of soft microfiber bras to match the panties from earlier. They looked soft and plush. Susan bit her lip, feeling fluttery. She stopped holding herself back and said it.

“I bet we'd all have some fun if I tried on some of this stuff, huh?”

It was like they'd been waiting for her to say it. Buttons popped open one by one down her blouse, exposing her strapless white bra. She shuddered a little, tickled by the fabric sliding off of her. She dropped the bag of bras she was holding and let her arms fell to her sides, making it easier for the blouse to pull itself off. Before it had the chance to go anywhere, she grabbed the end of a sleeve.

“No, stay here. You try the other one on.” The shirt flew out in front of her, billowing to shape and placing itself over the filled out bra. Susan's felt her breasts drop and settle as her own strapless bra unhooked itself, and she took a deep breath as she felt air on her nipples. The straps of the other lacy bra hovered over to her hands. “No, wait.” She held her hands up, motioning to the microfiber bras on the coffee table. “One of those. They look wonderfully comfy.”

The package burst open, and instead of one or two jumping to life, all of them danced into the air and filled themselves with shapely invisible torsos. Susan giggled, watching them bounce around.

“Actually,” she narrowed her eyes at the silvery cocktail dress on the lap of the grey pants, “I was hoping I'd get a chance to try youon. I'd bet you'd fit nicely.” The cocktail dress stood up, taking an interest in Susan's attention. Susan grabbed at one of the black microfiber bras, running her fingers along the seamless fabric. The soft luxury brought her thoughts back to the naughty activities her panties were engaged in earlier. She pointed at the microfiber briefs in their bag on the table. “Let's see those in action. Match them up with the bras.”

The clothing seemed happy to comply. The bag burst open, and unseen hips and shapely butts swelled inside the seamless briefs. Susan looked down at her exposed chest and wondered what would happen if Andy found her like this. It would be almost as hard to explain even if all the clothes dropped to the floor. The shapely microfiber lingerie was now sorted into a dozen sets, most of them matching. Susan directed her attention down to her boots and the rest of her clothes.

“You're not going to make me take the rest off by myself, are you?” Her boots immediately began unzipping. She was about to try and step out of them when her empty blouse floated over, buttoned up just far enough for her to see the ghostly lingerie beneath it. The fabric breasts pushed gingerly against her own as the silk sleeves embraced her. Just as before, she lifted off of the ground—a wonderful feeling she'd been too shy to ask the forces for directly. She wrapped her own arms around the blouse and curled her toes as she felt her skirt loosen and pull itself down over her full hips.

After kicking off the skirt, it slithered back up the front of her legs, filling itself out and sliding up to meet the form of the phantom blouse. Susan hugged the blouse tightly and wrapped her legs around the skirt, laughing like a kid as she looked down at the magic scene below here. It felt like a dream. She was floating in the middle of the living room, surrounded by sets of hovering voluptuous lingerie. The fluttery feeling in her stomach danced its way down to her hips, making her grip the outfit tighter against her.

On the floor, her empty boots zipped back up and spun themselves around. Susan and the outfit drifted back toward the floor. Her hips tickled with the pull of the panties trying to ride down them, but she kept her legs wrapped around the skirt, stopping them from moving any farther. When the skirt was in line with the other phantom items opposite her, she felt the panties try and pull down again, followed by a gentle squeeze at her clit. She sang out as the contracting fabric let go and shifted to apply pressure against her lips, pushing its way between them. Her fingers dug into the soft blouse as she let her legs drop.

She moaned a little, pushing her hips against the skirt as she made contact with the ground again. All the attention had her body reacting—expecting more teasing play—but now her lively panties were able to scoot off of her and drop straight to the floor. She let go of the blouse, looking down at the empty outfit in front of her. She didn't want to just play dress-up anymore. In every tease and caress, these enchantments demonstrated that they could be capable of much more.

She looked down at her nude body and thought about her vulnerable position. If she was going to get carried away with this, she'd need some guarantees.

“I think you've all got some cheeky tendencies,” Susan said, looking around at the outfits seated on the furniture and the floating lingerie, which had mostly settled except for some bobbing from the unseen breasts filling the bra cups. “I was thinking...maybe we should explore some of those tendencies further.” Now every set of ghostly lingerie pointing their soft microfiber tits at her as if perked to attention. Her eyes wandered back to the silver cocktail dress. “But we can't let anyone see. If someone comes home, you all have to take care of everything, including dressing me and putting the rest of—yourselves away. Can you promise that to me?”

Every outfit in the room simultaneously did a little bow. If these enchantments acknowledged her request, she was sure they'd know what to do. She already saw how sneaky and quick the enchantments in the house could be when she was around Andrew.

“Well then,” She grinned, slinking over to the silvery dress in the nude, “why don't you show me what else is in the boxes?” Her hands found their way around the shiny waist and pulled the round ass of the cocktail dress toward her. Behind her, she heard bags sliding out of boxes and tearing open, adding their fabric contents to the cloud of enchanted lingerie.

She felt soft, pillowy forms pressing and mashing themselves against her shoulders. Another set played at the base of her back. She turned around to see what other items had burst from their packaging, and a sports bra flew over her shoulder, a few more trailing behind it. Susan curled quick fingers around one of the elastic straps, and she was pulled forward, sliding past the cocktail dress and dropping onto the outfit sitting in Andy's chair.

The outfit caught her gently in half-inflated silk, regaining its smooth and curvaceous tension after she landed. Silk sleeves danced over her sides, then her stomach—then lower. Susan cooed, arching her back against the outfit as a dark silk sleeve spread her lips. The sports bras dangled themselves over her face and chest now, playing and bouncing against her as she reveled in the cushiony weightlessness of silken touch.

When they finally let her up, there were strapless bras, see-through panties, small thongs and glossy metallic bikinis exploding out of the other small boxes, filling to phantom feminine shapes. Susan loved it. All she had to do was say the word, and the entourage of clothing took charge.

Her body was getting more attention than she could keep track of, and she didn't seem to be the only one getting the treatment. Susan's blouse had its own sleeves around the silver cocktail dress now. Invisible fingers at the ends of the sleeves buried themselves in the silvery ass of the cocktail dress. Susan sat up, wanting to participate, but the silk sleeves pulled her back onto their lap.

A pair of the glossy metallic bikinis slid up her legs. She shifted to accommodate them, and once they were situated, Susan felt herself dampen the material immediately. The panties didn't hesitate to slip themselves back and forth against her clit. Susan's sustained moan echoed through the house, her mind going through the kinky possibilities of magic panties. Anywhere. Whenever she wanted it. Gliding and rippling down her clit, nuzzling between her lips. She pulled her legs to her chest to get a good look at the bikinis, now stroking her with slippery metallic fabric. She cooed and purred for more, feeling her sticky sweet self soaking their fabric. She barely skimmed the surface of that book, and she was surrounded by magic, immersing her in impossible pleasures.

A few of the strapless satin bras approached her, competing for attention. She reached out to a bright yellow bra on her left, but it dodged her grasping fingers, bounding over them and pushing soft daffodil-colored cups in her face. In the meantime, a copper-colored strapless satin bra unhooked and scooped Susan up, pulling its straps around her back as its cups coaxed her tits into place.

Now the big boxes popped open. Large garment bags holding pairs of jeans, stretch pants, and long-sleeved soft cotton tees all ripped open and took shape. Joining the dozens of sets in lingerie already dancing through the living room, the space was getting a bit crowded. Some of them bounded over the couch, heading toward the stairs. Others headed toward the kitchen.

A couple of the pairs of jeans walked over to flank the chair. Tight invisible hips and thighs tensed the fabric with each ghostly step. Susan's hands clasped over the soft satin cups still manipulating her. The fabric pulsed and pushed against her like the caress of soft, satiny fingertips. Occasionally they would pinch and tweak her nipples, which hardened under the constant assault.

The pair of black stretch pants at her ankles didn't find any resistance at all when they drifted up her legs. Once they were most of the way up, the copper bra pushed her forward, and the bikini and pants followed. She was stood up by the outfit. The waist of the stretch pants passed over her ass, sliding up over the enchanted silvery material of the panties still flicking and teasing at her.

Something rubbed against her thigh, and she looked down to see a hollow denim ass grinding against her. The same feeling began on the other side, and now two shapely pairs of jeans were riding and grinding against her legs. She reached down into a denim waist, feeling the curves of the tightly filled fabric from the inside. Even as her bra continued rolling and plying her breasts, her focus remained on the empty sets of legs sensually dancing against her.

Two long-sleeved tees approached. Susan swayed with the dancing jeans as the shirts hovered over to join them, slowly drifting to meet their waists. The shirts met the jeans' rhythm as they settled into place. Susan reached for a pink cotton collar, and when she started tugging, the gyrating denim backside drifted away from her. The outfit turned around, and now she was facing an impressive bust--massive, perking orbs and phantom nipples. Was the spell just filling the clothes as they should be filled? Did her expectations have anything to do with the almost cartoon proportions filling the clothing? She laughed, throwing her arms around the shirts' shoulders and burying her face in the cotton. Her giggling subsided to sultry howl as the silky friction of wet lamé stretched and swelled into her pussy.

“Float—float...I wanna—” The outfit abruptly pushed her onto the couch, tackling her into the laps of three more outfits. Cashmere sleeves starting exploring her sides, and the silky blue nightgown inflated its lap as Susan's head rested against it.

The outfit that stripped itself off of Susan had taken to the air, floating near the ceiling over the couch. Susan watched it drift over her as a blouse sleeve reached toward her, waving.

“Ooh...float—make me float, pleeeeaase...” She felt the forms under her shifting, but nothing left the couch. As her flying outfit hovered out of her line of sight, she noticed the cocktail dress, now looming over her. She felt her feet shift as the pantsuit on the couch stood up, walked behind the cocktail dress and reached a sleeve around the front.

As invisible fingertips ran through the silvery breasts, the dress seemed to swoon, leaning against the outfit behind it. Susan watched every motion of the flirting clothes. Her strapless bra was getting more physical, pressing her breasts together and bouncing them up and down. Her soft stretch pants pulled themselves up with every thrust of her hips, reacting to the invisible shape inside her, teasing her with silky inflated fabric.

“More. Mmmore.” The plastic shipping crate rose off the table. Sealed with zip-ties, the top of the container began to rattle as if desperately trying to open. The cashmere sweater lifted off the waist of the suede pants and hovered over Susan's head. When she saw the waist of the pink sweater yawn wide, she put her arms up. It stretched over her torso like a soft mitten.

The sweater pulled her into a seated position, and now she was atop the cushiony suede pants on the couch. The silky blue gown seated next to her began to billow and flap, snapping at the air as it began rising off the couch. The pantsuit groping and pulling at the bouncy silver breasts of the cocktail dress dropped its sleeves, and the invisible fingers disappeared. The pantsuit leapt into the air, straddling the blue gown. The gentle slopes beneath the lacy cups of the gown shifted and compressed under the sleeves of the pantsuit, and the gown bent at the waist as it if was lifting a pair of invisible legs.

Everywhere her eyes jumped, there was sexual innuendo in fabric. There were tightly filled out tees holding bra-less phantom tits, some of them being explored by ghostly ministrations. Susan's bra massaged her tits in gentle circles as her eyes drifted through brassieres holding engorged, invisible breasts, tangling with other curious lingerie and bouncing and twirling through the air. They were teasing her. She just wanted to float again like she had the first day. Now that she had little reservation about using this magic for her own sexual satisfaction, she wanted it all.

She seemed to experience whatever she focused on. When she watched a triad of metallic briefs swaying in rhythm with each other, her own panties responded, gathering themselves between her lips. She let out a low moan as she focused on two pairs of red metallic panties grinding against a golden pair in the middle. When the glossy golden ass was being teased by the shiny red pair behind it, Susan felt something tracing down between her cheeks, drawing the silky material toward her tight asshole. On the other side, a thrusting puffy camel-toe in another red pair pressed against a tight golden clit, and the front of Susan's own panties bulged and teased against her, emulating the same motion.

Susan's stretch pants stood her up, and the silvery cocktail dress bobbed toward her. Susan was distracted for a moment by pairs of jeans swimming through the air with shapely denim thighs and wide, seam-busting hips. Susan begged again.

“Touch me. Fuck me...” She pouted. The tightly-filled cheeks of her stretch pants were pulled apart by invisible hands, and she felt something working itself between her legs. “Yeah—yeah...” The front of the cocktail dress was exploring the front seam of her soft pants, lapping against them like a silvery fabric tentacle. She bit her lip, standing on her tip toes as the tight pants, the cashmere sweater, her breast-bobbling bra, and the soaked metallic panties lifted her just enough to tease her. She pointed at the pantsuit straddling the blue gown, bouncing up and down against the shapely blue satin ass. “Make me float like them, and you can fuck me whenever and however you want to.” She wrapped her arms around the back of the dress and gripped a firm invisible ass beneath the flowing fabric. “Just let me fly already!”

The zip-ties snapped off the plastic crate, and the flaps swung away from each other. The last cardboard box burst open, revealing 12 boot-boxes. As the lids flipped off the first tier, three pairs of boots jumped out and took shape, delicate calves filling out the empty material. Two of the pairs—both leather knee-highs in black and white—walked toward the shipping crate. The third, a pair of pink vinyl thigh-highs, walked toward Susan.

Susan felt herself lifted off the ground for a second, just enough for her to savor the sensation and feel her pussy tingle with the magic of weightlessness. After a quick tease, her clothes put her back down again. She was breathing heavily now, holding the silvery dress against her and focusing on the slick material of her panties, conducting her nerves like an orchestra.

She watched in awe as a button-down collar and delicate white shoulders emerged from the shipping crate, tapering to an exaggerated bust. Where the tightly filled shirt ended, a short plaid skirt began. Watching the school-girl outfit and the pastel pink stripper boots strutting toward her, something clicked about all the things Susan's “invisible maid” had gone through the trouble of bringing home.

Tufts of fabric shot out of the crate, one to the left and the other to the right. A dark blue puff of fabric stayed aloft over the black pair of boots, inflating to a short-sleeved blue jumper with gold trim wrapped tightly around invisible curves. A pair of short leather gloves carried a chintzy officer's hat and handcuffs.

On the other side, translucent white stockings jumped into the white boots and inflated to phantom legs. Above them, a white vinyl skirt and jacket with blue trim settled over a stringy white thong and bikini-top. A vinyl nurses' cap went to hover atop an invisible head, and a pair of elbow length white satin gloves filled from the cuffs and inflated to the fingers, settling on either side of the outfit.

All Susan did is substitute the word “shop” in a spell, and it turned out better than she could've imagined. The showy underwear, the kinky boots in front of her that she'd never have the nerve to buy on her own... She was always a clothes horse, but the slutty costumes emerging now...she felt too silly buy something like a “naughty nurse” uniform, but it wasn't as if she hadn't thought about it.

“You already know what I want,” Susan whispered, gripping the silver dress and pulling at the silky silver fabric. “Don't hold back on me.”

She was pulled into the air, and the waist of her pants yawned open on all sides, seeming to inflate their stretchy fabric around a bouncy form much bigger than Susan's own. The nurse and police costumes walked forward, flanking the white blouse and short skirt in the center. She felt the soft fabric of the stretch material catch her legs as she kicked inside them, wiggling her butt against her enchanted briefs as the pants slid slowly down her. The cuffs slid over her toes, and stretch pants flew off her legs, floating away with the other clothes sailing around the room.

Her panties ceased their teasing for a second, and something tapped the shoulder of her sweater. When she turned, she saw the book hovering behind her, held by a leather glove as the other pointed to a spell. Omnes ambha estre vi, unleash all the power to me. After reading the spell in her mind, Susan looked around at the scene in the room. This was just the work of a couple of spells, and it was enough to coordinate all of these enchanted clothes, filled with shapely and agile invisible bodies that manifested uninhibited play.

She asked the forces not to hold back on her, and they obviously took her request quite literally. But it wasn't power she wanted—it was pleasure. Her word replacement had worked well for the last spell she uttered, so...

“Omnes ambha estre vi, unleash all of my fantasies.” She gasped as the last word slipped off of her tongue. Her metallic panties thrust into her pussy once more as she lifted clear off the ground. The cashmere sweater flipped up its waist and stretched off of her, forcing her arms over her head. She felt the silvery dress flutter away from her grasp. After the sweater pulled itself off, her bra bounced her tender breasts up and down once more before unclasping and flying away from her.

She saw the three costumes and their enchanted boots rising into the air to meet her, and silvery fabric danced over her eyes before pulling itself down her torso. Her arms found their places under the straps of the dress, and the silvery cups settled themselves against her soft skin, taking their first opportunity to squeeze and lift her tits. The flaring fabric at her backside wedged itself in her ass, adding even more stimulation to the workout her damp panties were giving her.

Her body reclined. The silver cocktail dress constricted and massaged her breasts, lifting and playing with them, spiraling invisible fingertips around her perked nipples. Susan curled one of her legs under her, and the silvery dress followed her movement, running hands down her hips and over her ass.

Susan looked up to see a hovering black cap and gorgeously-filled jumper hovering over her head. A pair of phenomenal tits filled her view, and leather gloves sailed down her forearms and grabbed her wrists. As she felt her arms gently pulled over her head, she felt the cold steel snap around one wrist before tugging the other and locking it into place.

Susan stared up at the empty space between the bust and the empty cap. She couldn't help but giggle—the butterflies in her stomach were building, and now the school-girl outfit was floating up and over her legs, their own pink boots spread. She tried to move her arms, but the cuffs wouldn't budge. It felt like they were glued to their position in space.

The plaid skirt made contact and settled against Susan's hips, the pink vinyl boots dangling over the outsides of her thighs. She felt the underwear beneath the skirt and the shape of the intangible pussy that filled it. It slid up and down her, rubbing against Susan's own soaked panties as she felt the enchanted metallic fabric gather, intrude, and balloon gently inside her.

Susan arched her back and spread her legs, reveling in the weightless caresses of the cocktail dress, the teasing fingers of two pairs of gloves, and the almost constant clit-tapping, stroking, and teasing from her enchanted underwear. She bucked violently against the school-girl outfit atop her, growling sexual hunger as the cocktail dress constricted around her breasts. She felt the pink vinyl boots vice around her hips. The tight blouse and skirt leaned forward, pressing their curves against her body even as the cocktail dress continued playing with her.

Her body turned upright once more, hovering just as effortlessly as the white blouse curled its sleeves under her ass. To her left and right, the other two costumes writhed and pressed against her, their boots flirting with Susan's smooth, dangling calves.

“Amaaaaaazing,” Susan cried between hot, panting breaths. “Push me harder. Harrrder.” Her slick panties darted in and out, working against her as she bounced up and down faster. She threw her arms around the shoulders of the costumes and let her hips go wild, drifting through weightless space and flinging themselves in whichever direction felt best.

She threw her head back, feeling the magical lust pumping through her body as she watched the other clothes in the house begin to lose control. She looked down to see one of the microfiber bra and panty sets giving the suede pants on the couch a lap dance. The tan pantsuit had the overinflated blue gown pinned to a wall, throwing its hips against the soft silk as the gown bulged and bounced like it was a balloon. Tight denim asses were spanked by flattened sleeves, panties bucked and slithered against each other...

She could feel it building in her. The pantomimed phantom sex all around her, her absolute inability to stop her body, to resist these enchanted clothes--the loss of control and the unending supernatural pleasures...sensual vibration rattled deep inside her.

Her fingers clinched as the school-girl outfit rode her faster and faster. She let out a low moan that echoed back through her body. Just before she came, the top half of the silvery cocktail dress tightened around her as the bottom half flapped wildly. The pink boots squeezed around her hips, and living gloves slapped at her ass.

She shrieked with delight as a magically-induced orgasm coursed through her. The other outfits in the room emulated her own shaking body, tensing and contracting with pleasure, free from the restraints of gravity.

Awed with sensation, Susan's moans subsided to long, panting sighs. Still hovering and cuffed, she stretched from head to toe. The pink vinyl calves released their grip on her hips, and the boots hovered away with the outfit they were attached to.

Susan watched as the other clothing in the room settled. Some items lost shape and folded back up while others walked or hovered toward the stairs. The cuffs released her wrists, and she tried to grab at a bra sailing over her. The soaked metallic panties gently lapped once against her clit, sending a shiver though her. When she tried to reach down between her legs, the silvery cocktail dress puffed itself out, shielding the panties from any interference by Susan's hands.

“Okay, okay--” Susan giggled. “Take it easy... Let me catch up.” She felt herself pulled forward, and as her body turned in the air, she could see the rest of the living clothes heading upstairs along with some repacked boxes. A few stragglers from the cleaners shuffled back onto their hangers and followed behind. The living room was cleared of living clothing just as easily as it was cluttered, and Susan found herself hovering back down to rest on the now empty couch.

Now it was only her and the silvery dress and panties still wrapped around her body. Her thoughts returned to the spell she uttered in the heat of the moment. She didn't really anticipate the effects of the seemingly simple spells she toyed with a couple of days ago, and it occurred to her that her most recent magic couplet was a bit more—boldly worded.

Unlike her mother—whose tinkering with the spellbook caused everything to be done for her—Erin drove with her hands. At the ends of one of the lonely strip malls a few miles from the house was a second-hand clothing store Erin worked at as a teen. She remembered it being only intermittently open on Sundays, but whether she found it open or closed, she figured that either situation would offer some kind of advantage.

If it was open, she'd just scan the mana of the place and see what it had to offer. Maybe she'd try a couple of little subtle tricks here and there, but nothing showy.

If it was closed...well, it wouldn't be “breaking-in.” She wouldn't have to break a thing. There wasn't an alarm as far as she knew—just a big, heavy deadbolt, which was easy enough to manipulate with an ethereal copy of herself on the inside. She didn't plan on taking anything, so she wasn't going to steal. She'd experiment a bit, but she'd clean up her mess—so it wouldn't even be vandalism. There were the two glass doors in the front, but the other windows in front were all displays with backs. It wasn't easy to see into the store in low light if you weren't right in front of the doors.

And what if she got caught? Ha. She knew enough about her new tricks to get herself out of trouble. Even in the worst-case scenario, it wasn't like she'd be doing anything malicious anyway. All she wanted was to explore the energy—the thought of tapping into so many threads and wavelengths of mana made her giddy. What better place than a second-hand shop? She could find out more of what her new senses were capable of, drifting to whatever caught their attention...