A Pair of Well-appointed Witches

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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