A special position

“You could have stayed in the locker room all night,” She said to me, pointing her finger. “The ladies would have taken good care of you. You are cute, and your offenses were minor compared to some others here.”

Your feet are planted. Your shoes won’t lift off the ground, and when you look down, they’re untying themselves.

“Oh fuck,” You say. You hear cackling laughter from the black-haired, bouncy witch as your socks start wiggling. You try to run again, and this time you pull right out of your shoes, which stay glued to the ground.

“You just had to be part of the action, huh? You couldn’t stay put and be a good little boytoy.” Her hand sweeps at the open hall, and double doors leading to a padded exercise room open. “Well, have a taste of what the others are getting.” The strings on your athletic shorts pull forward--pulling you toward the open doors. When you try to go the other direction, your socks simply don’t let you.

You feel a kick on your ass, and you turn around to see your sneakers following you, all on their own. The witch giggles again, watching with her hands on her hips. You can still hear shouts and screams from the main gym--but also, something else. Moaning. Laughter.

When you’re pulled into the other gym, you see another plus-size woman in the room in a silver leotard, cross-legged and perched on a yoga ball. She’s a gorgeous latina with long dark-brown hair.

It’s...hovering about three feet from the ground. The woman opens her dark brown, almond-shaped eyes, scowling at you at first. Her red lips curl into a smile when she sees what’s going on with your clothing.

“Does this mean you’ve changed your focus away from having your out there?” The hovering woman asked.

“No way.” The raven-haired woman behind you said. “But he’s one of the ones that’s just kinda in the way.” You tried to stare at the ground. Your cock was pumping itself to life when you were staring at the latina’s tits in her tight, metallic leotard--astride a floating silver yoga ball. “I was going to let him off easy to be nice--but...he seems to be handling all of this pretty well.”

Witches. Real witches. Curvy, seductive, apparently trouble-making...you wanted to avoid getting into more trouble, and your imagination wasn’t helping.

“So maybe ‘being nice’ in this case is actively and heavily fucking with his little mortal mind?” She looked you up and down, and you felt an invisible hand cradle your balls. “Well, let’s see how good he is at staying out of the way,” The latina said. She snapped her fingers, and a bunch of yoga balls on the other side of the high-ceilinged exercise room began to roll and bounce all on their own.

One bounced twice into the air--rising a couple meters high on the second bounce and soaring straight toward you. You hit the deck directly, landing on the soft padding as the yoga ball sailed over your head. You hopped up again, and a rolling yoga ball headed toward you. When you tried to fake it out, it followed you and reversed, meeting your juke and bouncing once before hitting you in the waist.

You were flung back--into the first ball. It bounced just under your center of gravity and magically locked into place, holding in a rigid position as your mass sprang against the rubbery skin of the ball. Now you were rocketed up--and caught by a third ball, bouncing against the floor and reflecting to meet your body weight. This was a huge therapy ball, bigger than the other yoga balls and small enough for you to grip.

Which appeared to be the plan, because now it balanced you atop its surface. Counter to the nature of a ball on a planar surface, this magically-influenced ball worked like an active-gyro, keeping your weight centered atop it.

Centered without your own effort, it seemed. You relaxed as the ball hovered back to the witch on the silver yoga ball.

“He has very, very impure thoughts,” The latina witch said, narrowing her eyes at you. You were surprised from behind by the raven-haired witch, leaning over the therapy ball carrying you. You stared at her, doe-eyed as she smiled at you, her blue eyes flooding purple. She had a pale, porcelain-doll face, and your eyes followed her hourglass body down her lovely legs to her slightly plump, dainty feet--covered by bright white gym socks and...not meeting the ground.

“They’re all so worshipful though, aren’t they?” The raven-haired witch said. “An ambitious human with access to valuable knowledge is an issue...but a servant is a servant.”

You’re looking back and forth between them, trying your best not to smile. Knowing what’s happening outside, you want to improve your trajectory here. These two are clearly in charge, and you’re not sure how safe it is to let them know that...you’re kind of enjoying yourself.

“I pegged you in round two, baby,” The latina said, raising a brow at you. “But despite your lack of skill, we’re going to keep you anyway.”

Your cock jumped again, and both women looked at your half-cocked shape, hopping a little in your shorts. Your face must have been turning red before their eyes as they both giggled.

“You know, I think he wants to be part of the center ring,” The raven-haired witch said. “Look at it go.”

They both looked at you, their eyes storming with mischief.