Household Magic

Household Magic 8

She had to get up early, but the black leather gloves already knew that. So did the rest of the enchanted house. Aside from her own plans, something else wanted her on her way back to college, a few hours form the house.

It was just a matter of getting her up.

It was a poke first. Erin swatted at the finger on her shoulder and turned over, muttering something. Rolling up the blankets left one of Erin's feet hanging out, an exposed target that the black gloves didn't hesitate to exploit.

“Ummmf!” She pulled her knees up, instinctively escaping from the glove's fingers. But she still wasn't awake. She rolled over again, twisting the blankets around her further.

It wasn't hard to sleep so deeply after the day she had yesterday. Like any other new, repetitive task, mastering a new sense gave her dreams about the act. Her ethereal self, Brad and the other woman she was able to see through her remote eyes, the enchanted house, the playful gloves—she had dreams about everything. Her new skill was taking hold, growing even stronger as her mind wove it into long-term memory.

One of her drawers slid open, and a pair of sky blue tanga panties danced out, followed by a matching bra. Erin's blankets gently rolled her over, eliciting no more than a barely audible sound from her. As the blankets peeled themselves away, another drawer opened, and a t-shirt hovered out of it, inflating to Erin's own shape.

Her repacked bags slid over toward her door as the enchanted clothes approached her on the bed. The blankets were off of her. She lay nude, unaware of the activity happening in the room. The blue panties dove down to her feet, curling over her toes and slid over her heels. Her sheets swelled a little under her back, and her pillow shifted to support her head as it turned, sitting her up.

Erin's shoulders slumped forward, and a bra strap looped around her hand, pulling it toward her other so that the bra could easily slide up her arms. Erin shuffled her shoulders as the fabric of the cups brushed against her more sensitive parts, but she still didn't wake.

Another shuffling drawer produced a pair of heavy black pantyhose, which did a graceful flip as they filled out to Erin's trim, shapely legs. The closet door opened, and a denim skirt drifted out, hips ballooning inside it. The t-shirt hovered nearby as the pantyhose began to pull themselves over Erin's legs, the stretchy black fabric swallowing her up like fabric constrictors. Her legs shifted, unable to move very far. The restricted motion made her kick again, and the hose couldn't pull up her legs quickly enough to give her room. She muttered something before blinking her eyes and seeing the components of an enchanted outfit hovering in front of her.

She looked down at the hose, still trying to make their way up her thighs. Under her gaze, they were moving slower—almost as if they were guilty of something. Erin let out a groggy chuckle. The black leather gloves bounced in front of her, one of them waving.

“Well, good morning,” Erin yawned. “I guess you've decided I'm going back to the dorms to take a shower.” The gloves shrugged. “Just as well, I guess.” She looked up at the t-shirt, then down at the blue bra she was wearing. “Got pretty far without waking me up,” she sneered. “You may as well finish, hmm?”

The hose climbed her thighs with renewed confidence, and her panties shimmied under her butt until she thrust her hips off the bed, letting them slide up her hips unrestricted. When she threw her shoulders against the pillow to lift her hips off the bed, she noticed it was supporting her posture, keeping her sat up by itself.

“Why do I get the feeling that you can't wait to get out of the house?” Erin asked, holding her hips in the air until the pantyhose worked themselves into place. She held her arms out the t-shirt, which plunged over her head and shoulders. When it slid on, Erin swung her legs over the side of the bed. The hose complied, extending her calves off the bedside and pointing her toes. Her denim skirt slid up her lower legs, still inflated to shape. A pair of dark brown chunky-heeled ankle boots marched across the floor and leapt up to her feet, sliding over her toes just before Erin felt the whole of the outfit hop her up off the bed, into an upright position.

She had just woken up, so a move like this probably would've been a lot more uncomfortable if the soft fabric hugging every curve wasn't supporting her, placing her booted feet on the floor with a feather touch. Erin rubbed her eyes and yawned again through another laugh.

“Really had it all planned out. You were going to dress me completely if I kept sleeping, weren't you?” A leather glove flashed her a thumbs-up as she felt her boots getting snug. She looked down just in time to see their laces swim around each other, tightening and tying into perfect knots. A light fall jacket drifted over toward her, but she waved it off. “No, no. Long sleeves first.”

Her closet door folded open again, the hangers inside shuffling around at random. Realizing she didn't have to wait for the enchantments to make a decision for her, she eyed a thin baby blue sweater and reached out for it with ethereal fingers. It was plucked out, held by invisible fingers and drifting toward her, otherwise limp until it was in front of her. It pulled itself out of her ethereal grip and inflated so quickly that its emulated chest bounced against her t-shirt, knocking her back a little.

Her enchanted outfit corrected her, and she leaned forward, pushing back against it. The sleeves of the thin sweater wrapped around her and spun a half-turn, throwing her back onto her bed as she stifled a surprised giggle.

“Okay, okay...” She rolled herself back over the sweater. “Get it out of your system, because we can't play every time you feel like it once we leave the house.” She pressed all her weight down on the invisibly inflated sweater, squeezing it against her bed. “Now get on with it, mischief,” she smiled.

The fabric loosed and slid out from under her. Erin sat up on the bed, holding her arms in the air. The sweater quickly pulled over her, and her outfit bounced her off the bed again. She stood up straight, and her arms fanned behind her, accentuating the shape of her chest through the tight, thin sweater.

The sleeves held her arms tight, and the gloves hovered out in front of her, wiggling their fingers.

“I did mean get on with dressing me, you know,” Erin smirked. One of the gloves wagged a finger at her as the other reached out and slid its fingers over the swell of one of her breasts. She cooed, grinning wide as the back of the leathery fingertips drifted over a hardening nipple. The other glove joined in, and Erin pushed against them, signaling her approval. It didn't take long her her sensitized points to show through, no longer obscured by baby blue fabric.

“Gawwwwd, that's nice,” Erin sighed. She thought of something, and bit her lip, hesitating for a second before letting it out. “It'd be even nicer if I could trust a mana-empowered car to get me safely back to school on it's own.”

One glove continued lavishing attention on her while the other abruptly stopped, holding up a finger and drifting toward the backpack sitting atop her duffel. The backpack unzipped itself, and the glove dove in, pulling out Erin's binder of copied spells. It held the binder open with a thumb and presented it to Erin. It was another variation on the animation spell Susan used, though this one seemed to apply to particular utility applications.

“Ah, an enchanted coach,” Erin read. “Very clever.” Trying to focus through the continued ministrations of the glove, she read through the details. Reversal was a simple purge operation of the mana-stream, the spell stated that the coach would 'faithfully steer clear of persons, livery, and dangerous obstructions—being autonomous where it may, taking directions as the caster required.' Erin shook her head, amazed at the careful operation parameters.

Still—this was one ton of plastic and steel. If something went wrong, how would she explain it?

“I dunno about that.” She thought about the cul-de-sac as the glove at her chest pulled away, pointing to the spell and giving her another thumbs up. “Yeah, I gotcha—and you haven't steered me wrong yet, but I'm not the only one depending on that magic working correctly, you know?” The glove made an OK sign, and the binder began drifting away from her.

“Wait, wait.” She grinned. “Let's give it a shot. I can always pull the spell's mana right back if I'm not into it.” It was the early morning on a holiday, so there wasn't going to be a lot of cars out. She could at least let her...enchanted coach—take her to the end of the cul-de-sac to see how well it worked. In the meantime, she'd be specific about her own override and keep her hands on the wheel and her feet over the pedals until she was convinced.

It was a little strange, she realized, how responsibly and pragmatically she was treating all these impossible new tricks. She wondered about the original book being in her mom's hands, then reconsidered. If Susan wouldn't even tell Erin the truth about the magic roaming the house, it was a sure bet she was going to faithfully keep the secret from anyone else.

Then again, it was the magic gloves that presented the book to her, possibly against her mother's wishes.

“Hey—you don't plan on just...exposing yourselves to anyone else, right? Just mom and I?” Thumbs-up from the free glove. “Good. Let's shake on that.” They did, and Erin smiled. Why she was lucky enough to be shown all these secrets, she had no idea. Was it some odd coincidence that her mother had this book?

She held the spell in memory and let the gloves place the binder in the backpack. It zipped itself up, and the gloves each grabbed a bag off of the floor. Erin's jacket slid its shoulders over Erin's sleeves, which ceased restricting her once the coat was on. Her outfit walked her to the door, and her sleeves pulled her arms into position near the wrists of the gloves. She got the message and extended her fingers, letting the leather slip over them even as they kept a hold of her bags.

As soon as her bed made itself and her pillows fluttered atop the blankets, her bedroom door popped open. Effortlessly, she stepped with grace to the stairs, descending into a quiet house. At seven o'clock, everyone was still asleep but Erin. She headed out the door and all the way to her car without giving it a second thought.

A mumbled spell and a ride around the block later, she was even more convinced of the magic's sense of safety. Toward the bottom of the road, just before her turn out, a tabby darted out. It was a safe distance to get across the road without any trouble, but that didn't stop the car from noticeably (and smoothly) decelerating. It left all the space it needed for any contingency, Erin figured, even if the cat had decided to stop mid-way.

She'd keep her eyes on the road out of habit, even after the leather gloves pulled themselves off her hands and started more mischievous explorations.

After Susan's naughty role-playing session with Andy, things seemed to calm down. When playtime was over, the pushiness of the magic seemed to taper, and the rest of the night the enchantments were cooperative and low-key. She figured that her errant spell had worked itself out—that pushing Susan into a kind of play she wasn't brave enough to start on her own had fulfilled the 'fantasy' term contained in it.

The moment she woke up, she knew she was wrong. At the foot of the bed stood the school girl outfit that had ridden her to orgasm the day before. She blinked at it, rubbed her eyes, looked over at the sleeping Andy, and back to the outfit.

She mouthed get back in the closet and waved her hands at it. The white sleeves of the tight button down shirt reached down to the plaid skirt, pulling it up to expose its lacy white panties. The outfit's hips made a few hard thrusts in Susan's direction, and she gritted her teeth, looking back at Andy again. If she couldn't get it to put itself away, she's had to at least coax this horny outfit out of the bedroom, somehow, even if it meant offering herself up as leverage for the time being.

She'd have to do something about this, though. She needed to take a good long look at that book before her situation got any more out of hand. She stood up off the bed slowly, looking for a robe--preferably one on the modest side. She spotted her full length terry robe hanging from the hooks on the bedroom door, but as soon as she approached, it fell off its hook—in the other direction.

Susan did a double take at the pile of terry slumped against the ceiling. Was this for real? What did making everything a hassle have to do with any part of the spell she uttered? When she turned back to the school girl outfit, its sleeves were just above its collar, and a silent pantomimed laugh seemed to shake through the button-up blouse. She raised her hands at the outfit, palms upturned.

Every expletive ran through her head, but she had a feeling that waking Andy wouldn't make this situation any better. She ignored the school-girl outfit, walking past it and going to her closet. The sliding door opened carefully, and her silky robe floated out, open and waiting for her.

The fuzzy slippers—the first objects she enchanted—wiggled back and forth on the floor. Susan shook her head. Every part of this felt like a setup, but she had to get these things safely out of her room before she could do anything else. She reluctantly turned around and held her arms out behind her, letting the cool silk slide up her shoulders. The robe wrapped itself around her, hugging every curve and fanning itself over her butt. She took a step forward, trying to ignore the slippers, but it was no use. The moment she lifted her foot of the ground, the fuzzy pink slipper slid onto her in a blur. When the surprise threw her a bit off balance, she felt the other glide over the pads of her opposite foot.

She hoped her compliance would mean she'd be able to at least get out of the bedroom, but with the robe and slippers on her, she found she couldn't even step toward the door.

In fact, the lock turned itself over. Susan's jaw dropped. She couldn't imagine what plans the enchantments had—not with Andy sleeping in the same room.

And that's when she saw her sleeping mask drift out from under her nightstand. It didn't drift toward her, though. Instead, it hovered a couple feet over her sleeping husband. All Susan could do was shake her head, pleading silently for the enchantments to behave, but she knew that wasn't going to happen. The sash of her terry robe flung itself off the ceiling, snaking through the air toward the bed.

Just when she thought the magically-empowered room couldn't get any more audacious, she watched the blankets on her bed shift and turn, cradling Andy carefully as they turned him over. He didn't react with any sign of waking when his body was turned face up—and now the mask floated closer, stretching out its elastic and positioning itself a few inches from his brow. The sash readied itself near his hands as Susan mouthed no over and over again.

But she couldn't help it. The thought of a restrained, helpless Andy—woken by his bindings, confused and aroused by invisible forces as he was kept in the dark with a blindfold...

Susan still shook her head at the items, but some part of her wanted to see what came next. Deep down, she was daring the room to act.

And she knew it.

The mask went down over his eyes first. When he stirred, the elastic strap was able to secure itself around him, and the moment one of his arms came of the bed, the sash coiled around it. He muttered something and reached up with his other hand, which was expertly looped up before his fingers had a chance to grab at anything.

“S—Suzie?” Andy sputtered, craning his neck around. “Are you—?” As soon as he tried to pull his hands up to the mask, the sash pulled his arms higher, curling the remaining fabric at their ends around a wooden bar at the top of the headboard. She saw Andy's mouth curl into a smile. “Jeez...I don't know what's gotten into you lately, but--” He let out a chuckle. “I really, really like it.”

No questions, no objections, no... Susan's thought was interrupted by her slippers, turning her toward the bed and walking her closer to him. The blankets and sheets rolled down his body, and despite the sleep-mask, turned his head again, trying to get a sense of where Susan was. All the movements were so deliberate and flowing, and he couldn't even feel her leaning against the bed.

He was exposed, half-erect from a combination of the time of day and the surprise that he assumed Susan was responsible for. In the meantime, her slippers and robe walked her to the bedside. She felt the silk push down against her shoulders, forcing her to lean forward. The robe's sleeves moved positioned her arms over the bed, allowing Susan's hands to bear most of her weight as the sleeves stabilized her arms. Once they were against the bed, one of her slippers lifted up over the bed and pulled her leg over Andy so that she was straddling him around his lower legs.

“Oh, honnney. I don't know what I did to deserve all of this, but--” With Susan sitting atop him now, one of her sleeves reached up and placed her hand right next to his cock. She didn't have to think twice before taking hold of it. The enchantments set up the situation, once again, without him suspecting anything. After last night, she assumed following through with the game would give her a short reprieve afterward.

As soon as their magically-inspired sexual improv was through, she'd grab the book. For now, though...she'd sit back, let the enchantments guide her, and enjoy the situation.

She did, for a while. He was ready as last night, and Susan had little doubt that the new experiences were a serious positive influence. Her lips wrapped around him as her hand pulled short, soft strokes at his base. As she worked him harder, he If he noticed the motion of the intangible fingers caressing her breasts through her robe, he didn't say anything.

At first, Susan didn't notice the schoolgirl outfit hovering to the bedside, but as soon at it began floating up and over Andy's chest, she caught it with her peripheral vision. She tried to sit up, but the robe wouldn't let her move her mouth from Andy's shaft. She could barely make out the hem of the skirt dragging along his chest. His legs moved under her in response, tightening hard as he let out a laugh.

“H-ha-ha--holy shit, Suzie, did you tie down the blanket, too?” The sheets were still hooked over his ankles. They must have been restraining him—helping Susan's own weight hold him down. Susan's robe didn't permit her to answer the question, and he continued to wriggle under her as the back of the skirt hem dragged itself across his nipples.

Behind the darkness of the sleep mask, the sensations were all making sense to him. She'd showed some speed in tying him down, but he imagined he wasn't very quick to react in the first three minutes of him being awake. The makeshift restraints must have been planned, because the way his feet and shins were held down—the sheets and blankets had to have been rigged under the bed somehow. Then there was the strip of soft cottony fabric she was dragging across his chest and teasing his nipples with—heavenly. The tactile cacophony of all these sensations was something new entirely.

And then—something he couldn't immediately explain. A puffy, rounded, strip of smooth satin traced over his lips. But it wasn't just another piece of dragging fabric, drifting along his skin on its edge. There felt like there was something behind it, and instead of relying on his lips, he decided that his tongue needed to do a little wandering.

The next second was a string of interpretation checks as he explored without his sight. The shape was...not what he expected. Satin—so he figured gloves, but...this was off. It was more like a satin mitten, and he was running between the spaces of the fingers. That mental correction held for a split second—and then collapsed when he found the edge of the fabric.

There wasn't anything but an edge. What did she have?

The torso of Susan's robe began to bob her head up and down, and Andy lost the thought. He couldn't remember the last time he had head on consecutive days, and this session even topped yesterday's—even with the French maid act. Something about the unplaced details that came with being blindfolded...he couldn't even guess what Susan was doing anymore, but whatever it was, she was multitasking well.

Now the fabric pressed against his lips—this time, a lot more of it. He could feel both the edges of the fabric on his mouth, and the strip slowly widened, sliding down him until--

A clit. It was...unmistakable. It stopped him up for a second when he tried to recalculate. He could feel Susan's thighs straddling his shins, her lips around his hard cock, something teasing over his chest, and—this. Did she manage to switch positions without him noticing, or...?

He managed to let out a muffled “Sss—” noise, which came out more like “Fff—”, but he was stopped again when what felt like a satin-covered clit rolled back over his open lips again, pressing against him harder.

No explanations, but the confusion didn't kill the mood for him. He'd just have to get a little more serious about getting his wrists loose so that he could see for himself. He kept working the fabric as his saliva wet it down. He slowly pulled against what he figured was the sash of one of Susan's robes, loosening it a little. For a second. His restrained wrist was re-secured, but—how many things could the woman possibly do at once?

Susan's tongue spiraled around his bulging hard shaft, almost as if she was answering his thoughts. She could do a lot of things—and obviously do them all well. Still, how--

More aggression from the satin form at his lips, and now they pushed against him harder, fairly opening his mouth by forcing themselves against it. “F-f—” More mumbling was pointless. The heavenly blow-job and the other sensations were too much to even bother questioning anymore. The critical mind had now checked out of the situation.

Susan heard his attempts at speech, but the moaning sounds between them let her know that he certainly wasn't in any distress. The blindfold was actually pretty clever. She had thought about the attention to detail involved here, and when she reached up and grabbed the base of his shaft for more control, each of them realized something.

Susan realized that she only requested Andy not see the enchantments performing. Technically, they were holding up their end of the bargain.

Andy realized that if Susan had her hand around his cock, nearly ready to blow—how was she operating...whatever was making seriously concerted motions over his mouth? What was flaring and sweeping against his chest and nipples? And why was it that the terry wrapped around his wrists felt like a boa constrict--

Oooh, but it was sooo good. There was time for questions to be answered later. He didn't want his muffled attempts to get any louder. Now he only wanted to finish.

Susan knew he was close. He was starting to buck faster, anticipating the moment with every drive upward. He was still in pretty good shape. He obviously had no issue keeping up with the enchantments. Susan's robe kept her head in a slightly offset rhythm with him, helping her run her lips from midshaft to tip with every one of his thrusts. She loved feeling him lift against her.

Andy sucked on the satin shape as he built to orgasm. He could swear he felt the occasional pinch from the fabric sweeping over his chest, but all the stimulation was getting difficult to divide. A final thrust pushed him past the point of no return, and he erupted in Susan's mouth as the satin-textured clit rode against his lips. Holding back his animal wails as much as he possibly could, a more practical part of him was curious about the odd but not entirely unpleasant toy Susan was using.

Susan took him into her while her robe caressed her back and dragged intangible fingertips across her ass. The silk around her breasts contracted as she drank him down. When she looking up at him, the skirt was lifted off him entirely. Susan could see the hollow panties, filled to shape and wiggling themselves against his very attentive mouth.

Once this was over, she have to play it cool. She's play coy and refuse to answer any questions, because there was no way she was even trying to explain that one. After that, the book would be first priority.

Things settled down. Susan's robe let her sit up, and give her control over her own arms. The schoolgirl outfit hovered back to the bedside, and Andy let out a few quiet, but very fulfilled chuckles, basking in his orgasm a good minute before speaking.

“I don't know how you managed to do everything you did AND give me a blowjob like that at the same time—but that was amazing.”

Susan just giggled, sticking to her plan. The schoolgirl outfit hovered behind her, and when Susan turned around to make sure it was getting back inside the closet, she had to hold back her surprise. One of her lingerie drawers was open, and pair after pair of panties bounced out and puffed up to Susan's shape. This wasn't going to end on its own. She had to get to the book now.

“I'm glad you liked it, darling. Stay put for one second.”

She shuffled through her closet as quietly as possible, fear condensing to panic when her fingers reached up on a high shelf and didn't feel a large antique book.

If it wasn't where she left it, she didn't know where it was. Worse, her mischievous clothes didn't intend to help her. She was thankful that the panties fluttering around the room had stopped at about a half-dozen, but now she had other things to worry about.

“So, gonna let me up now?”

She struggled in vain to keep her robe from pulling itself off of her as the still-animated schoolgirl outfit stood nearby, This time, the magic hadn't receded after the fun, and now Susan was giving up any hope of keeping the magic from Andy. She heard the sound of tape pulling from cardboard. She had no choice but to respond.

“No, darling. I'm not done yet.” She did her best to cover any worry in her voice. Thankfully, Andy seemed content to leave it at that, for now. After all the surprises he'd had in the last couple days, he figured an opening box could only be another encouraging sign.

Susan watched as a witch's hat hovered out of the box, its flattened top filling to a conical shape. She already knew where this was going. She held her arms out, letting the flapping robe slide away from her. A pink and black satin bustier and short, matching skirt hovered out of the box. From her closet, a pair of black vinyl thigh highs hovered out and landed nearby, unzipping and facing their heels toward Susan.

She had to draw the line, or this would keep going. She shook her head and took a step back, intending to search for the book again. Before she could act, though, the witch's had topped her head, pulling itself on snugly.

A low, taunting laugh erupted from inside her. Spontaneous. She fought the urge at first, covering her mouth—but the resistance didn't last long. Her eyes narrowed, and the new plans cropping up in her head were written on her face. She took two confident steps forward, sliding her feet into the vinyl boots and allowing them to zip up her legs.

“Wow,” Andy said, still blindfolded, listening to the zipping boots. “Something tells me I'm really going to like what's coming up.” Susan grinned. She had a feeling that what was coming up might have a dangerous effect on a man who wasn't in as fit as Andrew. A pair of glossy pink panties held itself out in front of Susan, and her boots stepped dutifully into them—as always, without her direction.

The bustier unzipped down the back. Its straps climbed over Susan's fingertips and up her arms, seating her breasts inside it and zipping again. The glossy pink panties shifted over her clit, the satin bustier cups contracting around her. She grabbed her own tits, playing fingertips over her nipples through the fabric. Pinching them. The bustier seemed to pick up on this and exaggerated its motions to mimic the intensity of her own fingers. A whisper-quiet shudder turned to an audible moan.

“Oh, baby--tell me what you're doing.” Andy squirmed on the bed. His cock was twitching, but it wasn't quite ready to go again yet. Susan caught a pair of pink satin opera gloves floating out of the box, and her own uninhibited thoughts took things to the next level.

She pointed to the soft, satiny gloves, then to Andy. The gloves inflated and twisted into sexy, feminine arms as they drifted over to his midsection. When he felt the cool, silky fingertips slide up and on the inside of his thighs, he assumed it was Susan.

“You're just full of surprises,” Andy moaned, feeling satiny fingers grip his still-soft cock. He didn't know half of the surprise yet. Susan's boots stepped into the fluffy short skirt, presenting itself at knee height. It was stretching around her ass and shifting into position when the bedroom door unlocked itself and popped open.

Andy jumped a little. He was sure he heard the door.

“H—honey? If you're here, then—” One of the gloves quickly jumped up to cover his mouth, and now the other pumped him quicker. Semi-rigid again, his stamina started winning out with the help of expert satin hands. Suddenly, the need to explain the sounds he heard were gone.

Behind the door, a hovering broom swished back and forth, its bristles just barely missing the ground. Of course it was a broom. It danced in, and the door closed and locked again behind it. As it approached, it turned horizontally and steadied itself.

Already partial to the magic's ability to keep her aloft, mental suggestion was no part of her enthusiasm when she straddled the foam-gripped broom. Along with her outfit, it immediately pulled her aloft, hovering at the foot of the bed. And with the pink gloves keeping him quiet while stroking him harder, the animated panties chasing one another in a looping patterns over the bed, and the schoolgirl outfit standing over him, arms crossed—the sleep mask pulled itself off.

The glove holding his mouth moved back, welcoming his wide eyes with a wave.

“I—I...” His eyes leapt to the curvaceous panties dancing above him, then to the hovering Susan, the schoolgirl outfit...and then wandered down to his cock. His eyes lit up as he watched the disembodied pink glove grip and pull at him. Now hard, he looked back up at Susan, gripping the flying broom between her legs. As he watched cherry-red lips curl into a smile, he returned the expression. “This is the wildest dream I've ever had,” he announced.

He didn't wonder why, though. Susan had been all over him lately, wearing new things and playing new games...of course his head saw fit to sort through it. But all this? What a perk. He felt the cloth binding his wrists loose its grip on him, and before long he was sitting up, watching a magical glove trace itself over his torso as its opposite continued to beat him off.

When he looked back up at the panties dancing over his bed, Susan pointed at the pair that grabbed his attention. They whirled about to face him and sailed right to his nose, teasing their fabric against him, pulling away when he tried to nuzzle closer. Susan's own underwear rippled back and forth over her clit as she pulled the stick close and bucked her hips against it. She was facing Andy, watching her disembodied panties tease him.

He made every effort to savor the wondrous sensations in this apparent dream. He reached up to the panties just in front of him, and they made no effort to fly away from his touch. Everything was so intricately detailed. The invisible form filling them, the seams, the feel of the material as he ran his fingers along it, sensing the shape of invisible labia beneath the panties. He hooked his thumb inside the form, feeling nothing but empty space. It was so real.

The more he explored, the more he questioned his state of mind. Running both of his palms over a round, inflated fabric ass, he looked up at Susan. Her stare was both hunger and satisfaction, looking at Andy as if we were trapped prey. He was already hard from the attention of the magic gloves, but Susan's wicked grin flashed even greater intentions.

“I'm—I'm dreaming, aren't I?” Which sounded silly to him, given the situation. How would he know if the sexy-witch dreamscape version of his wife was going to tell him the truth?

“I bet there's no way to convince you otherwise, darling.” Susan pulled the broomstick against her and hovered over to the bedside. She waved an arm at the rest of the panties, then pointed straight to Andy. The dancing underwear obeyed, and the bouncing invisible forms surrounded him.

“Well—there's no way this is real.” He looked down at his swollen member, kept to full attention by a pink satin glove.

“Then you may as well enjoy it.” Susan looked back at the schoolgirl outfit and motioned to Andy. “Come, my darling. If you liked when I rode you, wait until you see what he can do.” The outfit climbed onto the bed, and the pink satin gloves retreated, flying up to Susan and pulling themselves over her arms.

There was sooo much to enjoy. Susan's recent sexual aggression had sparked it—no doubt. Her control of everything, the flashy clothes helping her magical seduction...and now a schoolgirl outfit, bent over and presenting, pulling up its skirt with invisible fingers at the end of a white sleeve.

Andy sat up, the floating panties parting to let him explore the waiting outfit. He climbed over the vinyl boots and wrapped his hands around the waist of the skirt, pulling its rear toward him. He shuddered as he felt his cock glide against the underside of the panties.

Susan squeezed her thighs around the broomstick. She felt hard cock tease across her clit at the same moment Andy made his move on the outfit. Andy gasped, feeling warm flesh squeeze around his cock. He moved his hands under the skirt. Unlike the levitating underwear, this outfit had a round, solid ass inside it. Andy's prick perked again, and he pulled it back, allowing him to reach beneath the panties and stroke them, finding his target before sliding them aside.

Now Susan's hips lifted clear off the broomstick, her gloves keeping a grip on it for the time being. She felt her own panties sweep to one side, exposing her. As Andy found bliss in a tight, magical pussy, her lips parted, and an invisible member filled her.

“Ungh...yyyyes!” The pink gloves dropped the broomstick to the ground, going for Susan's tits instead. Her bustier bent her over, and she felt herself penetrated from behind by invisible force. Andy leaned against the invisible costumed form with all his weight now, wrapping his arms around the white blouse and pulling it open, wrapping his hands around unseen tits. Now Susan's gloves pulled her arms to her sides while her bustier jiggled and contracted around her breasts. She cried out in pleasure as she felt the ghostly member inflating inside her.

Andy felt the vinyl boots rising between his legs, and it wasn't long before he felt himself lift off the bed with them. Now, like Susan, he was suspended in mid-air. He was pounding away at an invisible pussy from behind, reveling in what he assumed had to be the strangest, most wonderful dream he'd ever experience.

Lulled into active participation by a well-aimed witch's hat, Susan showed no concern at the growing collection of misbehaving clothing filling the room. Nothing was in her mind but the slippery invisible pounding she was taking as she watched her husband ride against the invisible form occupying the schoolgirl outfit.

There were no inhibitions. In this situation, Andy had no use for modesty and no reason to argue with physics. There was the air, the enchanted pussy surrounding his steel-hard dick, frilly underwear and negligee dancing around the room, and his wife—floating feet away from him and being stripped, fondled and fucked by the thin air.

The bedroom door clicked open quietly enough for the sound to be swallowed up by the rest of the room, and in sailed a book. Andy didn't notice it until it entered his peripheral vision, and now the pages fluttered open as it drifted over toward Susan.

Andy rocked faster and faster, feeling the magic pussy pulsing and tightening around him as the frenzy in the bedroom came to a head. A couple pairs of panties sailed up Susan's arms and twisted around each other at her elbows, tying her like an armbinder. The pink gloves pulled themselves off of her now, maintaining their form as they headed to the book.

Susan sang out as the invisible advances continued, making Andy's prick jump—bringing him closer and closer. He watched as one of the pink satin gloves moved behind her and grabbed a glove full of hair, playfully pulling on it. She squealed with delight again, swinging her head back just quickly enough to knock her hat to the floor.

It wasn't so much like a light switch as it was waking up in a dentist's chair after nitrous. Well on her way to orgasm already, the first thing she became aware of was the pulse in her hips. Throbbing, hot, silky strokes—each one hitting her so perfectly. She felt the weightlessness, that gliding, floaty lack of friction where the direction “down” disappeared and was replaced by the senses by “in” and “out”. And now she realized she was bent over and that her arms were tied behind her—accounting for the delicious angle and the inescapable grip the magic had on her body.

Next, she saw Andy—flying above their bed, happily straddling a pair of boots as he drove himself inside a phantom schoolgirl. It didn't make sense—and at first, she was groggy and distracted enough that it still didn't register entirely.

“Oh, god--you make a sexy fucking witch, you know that, baby?”

Hearing the words come from Andy's mouth made her realize something wasn't quite on, but everything clicked perfectly when her hair was pulled again, directing her sight to the book floating in front of her.

A pink satin glove was pointing to another spell.

“Oh, god—I think I'm going to come...” Andy sputtered. Susan got a quick look at him before her hair was pulled again, turning her to the book. Had the magic revealed itself to Andy, too? How else could she explain what was happening here?

The book floated closer, hovering just far enough so that she could still make out the spell. Et mahjinna tam solehr, make the magic fill the air. At this point, she certainly knew better—but now it was more of a question of whether she'd have a choice in the matter.

“Andy, how are y—mmmmgggh!” The shimmering pink glove pointing at the spell leapt off the page and covered her mouth. She winced, feeling the phantom cock inside her grow, filling her tighter as it forced itself in and out.

“I'm fucking amaaaaaazing!” Andy panted, bucking like a stallion, throwing himself against the ghostly hips and penetrating deeper . “Oh my god, this dream can only end one way, but I don't care how bad I fuck up our sheets—I've gotta cummmmmm.”

Now Susan realized why Andy was conscious, disobeying gravity, and plowing an empty costume like it was completely natural. He thought it was a dream. Susan's skin buzzed like electric—she looked down at herself, watching her dress relentlessly rub and pinch. she struggled to stay focused as she and Andy were both coaxed toward orgasm by Susan's out-of-hand spells.

She could feel herself trembling, ready to come. Andy's own cries were getting shorter and hoarser. Her attention was pulled back to the book once more, this time with a satin glove under her chin, pointing her directly at the spell from before.

All she had to do was hold off until she came. It wouldn't resolve the situation, but she had to try and draw the li--

Andy moaned a warning just as the hat dropped back onto Susan's head. She responded in kind, panting impending release as her eyes narrowed on the text.

“Et majinna tam solehr, MAKE THE MAGIC FILL THE AIR!” Susan curled into an ecstatic howl as she felt her dress contract around her. Despite the incorporeal nature of the cock inside her, she shuddered—feeling herself filled with impossible magic cum.

Every dresser drawer exploded open as Andy rocked against the magic schoolgirl outfit, his shaking fingers pushing the shirt high above the waist of the panties. He could see himself inside, his releasing cock compressed and cradled by invisible force. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the back of the magic white blouse and reaching around the familiar forms in front. He closed his eyes and panted, now in euphoric denial, still waiting for a waking moment that wouldn't ever arrive.

The invisible cock slowly withdrew itself from Susan, forcing a satisfied little sound from her. She hadn't yet caught her breath when the witch costume decided it was moving on. She was slowly reoriented so her feet faced the floor, but she stayed suspended. As the dress slid down over her shoulders, the boots unzipped, and the hat lifted off of her again. The outfit reassembled itself, meeting up with its gloves again.

Susan came back to her senses faster than before, but those sensations included the monster orgasm her body had just experienced.

The bedroom door clicked open, and the witch costume carried the magic book out of the room, followed by a few sets of lingerie. Just as they left, Andy sat up, opened his eyes and looked at the mess of the room, and then Susan--hovering across from him in a bustier, panties and stockings.

“I can't believe I haven't woken up from this yet.” Susan wanted to wipe the stupid grin off his face, but she knew what came next was going to be difficult enough.

“Andrew, honey—I don't know how to tell you this, but...”

Erin laid on her bed, flipping through her binder, looking at the various classes of spells, committing a few to memory while being sure not to utter them. The gloves occupied themselves straightening her room and putting away her late-autumn clothes.

Suddenly she sensed mana burning red hot for a split second—and it disappeared as quickly. Her eyes went up from the book.

“Whoa.” Just as Erin seemed to ascertain something of a sense of direction from the mana she moved through, she could also feel more of the fluctuations and drops in the field. A massive shockwave just hit her, and unlike the general ambient mana she sensed around her—the it held an eerie familiarity.

She really didn't have any explanation for it, but it felt like...home?

With a glance back at her binder, she wondered how she'd look something like this up. Wave? Blast? Ethereal detection? She looked around the room for the leather gloves, thinking they might be able to help.

By the time she spotted them coming at her, she was already caught off guard. They were carrying a knee-high sock, holding the ends in either hand.

“Hey, what are you guys d—” She thought they might be playing around at first, but they followed through decisively, tying the sock around her face, pulled tightly enough between her lips so as to be uncomfortable. She protested through unintelligible sounds and tried to get up, but one the gloves held itself against her back.

The other glove flipped through the binder and stopped on a page. Erin concentrated on manifesting ethereal fingers to pry the glove off of her, but she was being pressed down so hard that it hurt to try and pry her fingers between the glove and her back. It wouldn't lift up. It was like someone was doing a handstand against her.

She tried moving her ethereal fingers up to the gag, but her eyes sprung open when she felt leather against her cheek. It wasn't a hard slap—just enough to painfully augment the tension at the corners of her mouth and break her attention away from her ethereal fingers. The glove pointed to a spell on the binder, then tapped against it hard. When Erin looked at it, the glove held its fingers together and opened and closed them against their thumb, pantomiming “talk”. Then they pointed at the spell again.

Et mahjinna tam solehr, make the magic fill the air.

It was under the charge replenishment spells, and it was accompanied with a list of warnings. There was no way she was going to read it aloud.

It was pretty clear these weren't the same gloves from before. She was confident that the feeling she got a few seconds before their attack had something to do with the change, but either way—she couldn't allow this. Animation spells with active intelligence were all fine and well when the intelligence was submissive or cooperative—even maybe playfully mischievous if some lines were drawn by the caster—but graceless aggression was the first sign of an active intelligence spell out of control.

The glove at the binder flew over to her desk and grabbed a pen as she put a hand behind her neck to try and reach the gag. The moment she touched the knot, the leather glove at her back pressed against her back even harder, forcing air out of her lungs.

“Mmmmmgh!” Frustration was showing now. She had to keep cool and think of another way. She considered trying to project communication directly to the ether, like she had at home—but pleas and negotiations were out now. The enchantment was using painful amounts of force. Making further submissions would be playing with fire. The glove at her back let up again, enough to relieve some discomfort, but keep her against the bed. It's partner at the desk had scribbled something on the paper and brought it to her now, holding it where she could read it.


Agree to read? For an active intelligence spell out of hand, that seemed like a pretty stupid strategy. She'd have to have the gag removed to comply with their agreement—and she'd have her voice back. She didn't know the nature of the aggressive magical prerogative that shifted the gloves against her, but it was clear she was being underestimated.

She nodded vigorously, recalling some basic charge/flux/purge rules as best as she could. The gloves weren't sparked from her mana, so she couldn't simply reach in and take it. She'd need to chant a field purge—the magic equivalent of an EMP. Thankfully, memorizing an emergency “cut the power” spell was one of the first priorities in her study.

All she had to do was wait for the right moment, now rapidly approaching. As soon as the leather glove had worked open the knot in the gag, she'd pull her ace. It flew behind her, fiddling with the tightly tied sock. Iasut nonu mannem bie; make this mana motive free. It was short, but getting it out would still take a second or two. She had to be sure she wouldn't be stifled.

She felt leather fingers work their way between twisted elastic fabric, loosening the long sock. A burst of confidence hit her when she realized something important: if her gag was untied, it would take two gloves to put it back on. If the glove at her back was forced to move, she'd have a chance at repositioning and defending herself to buy enough time to spit out her nuclear option.

The sock in her mouth loosened again, and she watched as its heel flew over her shoulder, falling from between her lips and releasing her. She quickly licked her lips, looking with earnest at the spell she'd been instructed to read.

“Iasut nonu mannem bie—” was as far as she'd managed when she felt the glove on her back lift off in a rush. They were fast, with the sock already in both leather hands, ready to be reapplied, but Erin was faster. She rolled to her side and boxed her arms up against her had to prevent any attempt at replacing the gag. A glove dove directly for her mouth, but not with enough time to mute her before the last syllable of: “—make this mana motive free!”

She felt a flash of flux, and a moment later, limp leather dropped against her skin. In the same moment, a plethora of now-inactive mana dispersed into the room. Erin sighed. She just outmaneuvered rogue magic, and for a few minutes, it was kind of a rush.

Her internal victory dance didn't last long. In a couple seconds, once that first dose of relief wore off, she returned to the how and why of the shockwave. The gloves—a probable product of her mother's use of the book—had just tried to force Erin into reading an automatic charge replenishment spell.

As if that wasn't enough, the mana in the house seemed to be saturated already. Erin was sure now—it was far stronger when she arrived home last night than it was when she left just a couple of hours before. If one pair of gloves was able to catch her off guard, and the spell originated from her mana-soaked house—what was her mother dealing with?

Erin imagined her closet, her room, her bed. She tried to extend her ethereal self into the house, but as soon as she tried, she felt an overwhelming tingle all over. It was something like the feeling she got when flesh and blood passed through an ethereal copy—except that now the feeling was throughout her body, dancing over every nerve. She was paralyzed by the sensation. It wasn't entirely unpleasant—but with the intensity drowning out anything else, there was no way could meaningfully glean any info from her remote senses. All Erin knew was that of a lot of active mana had taken to running through the house.

She dialed Susan's cell, being sent to voicemail after six rings.

Erin looked at the book, then back at the limp gloves. There was no way she could go back without some magic backup. She was ready now. After all, she'd proven herself adept at dodging the effects of a mean-tempered rogue spell.

She reached out to the binder with ethereal fingers, flipping the pages to the animation spells. She had a lot of information to find and contingencies to build, but she could study on the whole ride back home. In the meantime, she hoped her parents were okay.

Andy was in denial. It didn't matter how detailed all of this scenery was—the things happening were impossible. That meant it had to be a dream.

“Suzie, it just—can't be real. The fact that I need to explain that to you means this is a dream.” He'd been let down onto the bed again, and the schoolgirl outfit slinked away and headed for the bedroom door. Andy was content to sit watching as risque ensembles he'd never seen before lifted out of containers, filled to Susan's gorgeous proportions and strutted out the door. “I mean, the last two days—”

“Drew, you've got to listen to me!” Susan said, still suspended in mid-air. “I'm telling you that the reason for those last two days was because of that book!”

“Ah, the book! That silly fortune spell you were telling me about a couple of weeks ago, right? That's why the witch thing. Plus, then—I mean, the maid's outfit—you surprised me with that. So that's why all the...” He was distracted by a lipstick red corset and a amply stressed black pencil skirt, sauntering his way instead of heading downstairs with the other clothes. “ kink.”

Two red knee boots danced under the outfit, synching their motions with it. Red elbow length PVC gloves weren't far behind. When they settled at the sides of the corset, one glove held its hand out toward the closet. A black crop shot out of a box and into its waiting fingers. A choker collar finished off the look, hovering just above the jutting cups of the corset.

Andy's eyes were glued to the other glossy red glove as it extended toward him, pointing a finger. He shuddered as arousal crawled over his skin and into his body. The feeling was indescribable—like he'd just been shot up with the mojo of a 20-year-old. As he absorbed the feeling, he watched the glove smoothly turn over, its finger curling into a come-hither motion.

Andy sat up, looking at the outfit with wild eyes. Susan watched in frustrated disbelief. She couldn't even touch the ground. How was she ever going to get control over this?

“Drew, you've got to help me get a handle on this. I need your help.” Susan genuinely looked worried, and it gave him pause. He looked back at the corseted outfit again, at more items shuffling out of the room, and then back at Susan. “Please. You've got to believe me—you're not dreaming.”

Andy threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, facing the corseted outfit.

“I'm sorry, but there's just no other explanation, Suze—and I don't know if I'm ready for this to end yet.” He reached out to grab one of the corset's cups, and his fingers were snatched by a PVC glove as the skin of his forearm was lightly seared by the sting of a crop. “Yow!” He pulled his arm back, and the free glove wagged a finger at him. A dull thud of plastic on plastic sounded as the same glove snapped its fingers. From an already open drawer emerged a black pair of Andy's briefs, filling out to a relatively trim shape with a respectable package. Andy watched them hover over, face away from him, and drop to knee-height.

Another light slice of the crop on the side of his thigh brought his attention back to the corseted outfit. A glove pointed at him, then back at the briefs.

“No, Drew—no, no, n—nghhh...” Susan's protests turned to exasperated coos as her own lingerie lavished attention on her once more. It was gentler, softer—which only made it harder protest. The bustier gently massaged her breasts like soft, firm palms. Sensation spikes like poking and pinching were traded for light, ghostly caresses producing strong, rolling sensations.

She did it to herself. Now she had a sexually-uninhibited, power-hungry, invisible and nearly omnipotent maid/thief/taskmaster on her hands. She remembered reading it...


Right. Hindsight being twenty-twenty and all. Now what? She lost control of the book, and she couldn't talk sense into Andy. It wasn't his fault, though—why listen to sense when you're surrounded by nonsense?

As soon as Andy stepped into the briefs, they sailed up his legs. The waistband carefully shifted around his package until the briefs cleared it, at which point he was lovingly gripped and pulled by the fabric.

He was practically falling over himself. Despite his awe at the persistence and detail of this apparent dream-world, the physical impossibilities forced him to come back to the same conclusion: this couldn't possibly be real. When he lifted off the ground, matching Susan's altitude of a couple feet, it served as another justification for him to relax and enjoy the ride.

Now floating over opposite sides of the room, both were occupied by the sensations of their enchanted underwear. The corseted outfit walked over to Susan, running a gloved PVC finger against the damp crotch of her glossy pink panties. The other glove swung the crop back and forth like a conductor's baton, and when Susan let out a moan, the crop pointed at her closet.

It was the whole haul. Each box and container floated out and hung in space as if waiting for another cue. The baton swung back and forth again, this time pointing at Andy. He briefs tightened around his shaft, the motion of confident feminine fingers filling the negative space. He and Susan both sputtered incoherent passion, and all the boxes that followed Susan home erupted in colored fabrics—dispersing like dense fluid and filling the room.

Bobbing in midair, powerless to stop the hands in her clothing, Susan was lost. She had no way to stop this, and if they didn't listen to her requests to stay hidden from Andy—what was going to prevent them from opening a door and strolling outside?

The room crowded fast, even with many of the items heading out the door. Wherever Andy's gaze jumped, he attracted phantom admirers, more than happy to give him a closer look—shiny metallic gloss panties in every color, magic tights mimicking invisible curves, tight t-shirts supporting firm breasts and concealing erect phantom nipples... Andy was turned parallel to the floor and sent floating over the bed with a cloud of voluptuously filled items in tow.

The corseted outfit walked through the chaos and tapped its crop against a dresser. Emptied of their contents, the boxes sailed back into the closet, and the dresser drawers shut themselves. Now the outfit waved its makeshift magic wand at Susan, and she hovered out the bedroom door with the last of a river of yet-unfilled garments and a steady stream of assembling outfits.

Susan heard Andrew howl ecstasy as the door slammed behind her. Before she hovered down the stairs, she swore she saw activity in Erin's room behind her half-open door—more clothes moving on their own, of course. Downstairs, there were already an alarming number of invisible bodies occupying the living room, but there was some temporary relief in the locked front door and the drawn shades.

That is, until she saw what was prepared for her.

Erin had focused on flux, purge, counter-charge, cross-charge, and anything she could find as a defense against automated magic. She had a duffel full of charged clothes. Apparently the long drive didn't give whatever happened an opportunity to dissipate, because the power almost gave off an audible hum as she pulled up her street.

Still unable to see remotely inside, Erin had no choice but to make her approach and find out what was going on. She took her bag and headed to the front door. As soon as she reached for the handle, the door clicked open. Erin felt her bag pull forward, and she walked into the house.

It was like an overcrowded party. There were empty outfits everywhere, sauntering around the room, pantomiming silent but animated conversations with each other, and--


Some of this stuff was just plain trashy, and it was very much acting like it. Worse—some of Dad's clothes were out too. There could be no prod-and-defuse tactics here. Erin had no intention of making this any more complicated than it had to be.

“Iasut nonu mannem bie; make this mana motive free.”

And in a second, every action stopped. Any clothing that recognized the threat had done so too late. Erin felt a euphoric buzz. She grabbed the banister to stabilize herself and wondered if something had backfired, but in the time it took her to regain her focus, nothing came and grabbed her.

But nothing fell to the ground, either. The mana was so thick in the air, permeating everything. Erin had neutralized the motives of the the enchantments, but she couldn't disperse the mana.

There was nothing to disperse. The concentration of the mana in the house was exactly the same as that occupying the clothes. She had to pull the excess out of the environment somehow, but she wasn't about to try and absorb any of the energy herself.

“Mom? Are you home?” She listened for a response, but only heard the faint rustling of drifting fabric. “If you're here, it's safe to come out—I stopped them.” She pushed past inert bobbing enchantments and into the kitchen, where she only found more of the same.

“Is anyone home at all?” Erin shouted it this time, but she got the same silence in return.

She waded through swarms of lingerie frozen in their spots, dodged around a line of pants in the laundry area and navigated around dresses and statuesque ghostly stockings in the den. When she came back to the entryway, she was greeted by a figure halfway up the stairs.

“Mom! Um—what's going on here?” Susan was alone on the stairs, clad in red knee boots, black stockings, a pencil skirt and lipstick red corset.

“Well, we were having a party, but you had to come back and spoil the fun.” Something wasn't right about Susan, aside from the outfit. The tone of voice was creeping Erin out.

“Are you wearing a choker?” Erin frowned. “You know what—don't answer that. Look, I'm sorry to barge back in, but is everything okay in here? I don't know how to explain this, but I felt—” she waved her hands around, motioning to the clothes “—whatever you were doing from miles away.”

“You found the book.” Erin didn't know what it was, but she didn't like that voice.

“The book practically put itself in my hands,” Erin said, “And from the looks of things, you're lucky it did. You're working with an awful lot of animation here. What I've read so far says that one little wrong move can be very bad if you're not versed in undoing the effects of your own spells.” Susan felt a twinge of disappointment in herself before the collar erased it from her thoughts.

“Well, things are under control now,” Susan said. “You didn't seriously come all the way back here to check on me, did you?”

“If dad's car is here, where's dad?” Erin watched her mother formulate a hesitant answer.

“He's—resting,” Susan responded. Erin placed her hands on her hips.

“He's resting while you have—oh, I don't know, something like a hundred outfits dancing around?”

“Well, they're careful not to just--”

“The book, mom. I need to know what spells you've used. I felt something happen, and then the enchantments turned against me. They tried to get me to read from my copy—like, forcefully.”

Susan smiled. “You copied the book?”

“You lied to me. Gypsy curse.”

“I didn't want to get you involved in my mess—but here we are.”

“You said things were under control,” Erin challenged her, “Is it a mess, or is it under control?”

“It's my mess,” Susan said. “And it's under their control now.” A grin curled over her face, and the inert hovering outfits begin stirring again. One by one, they turned to face Erin. “This time, you're going to have to read what they want you to—because as you can see, that little trick you learned isn't going to work again.”