You have to keep going, it feels too good

Between the sensation of being picked up and held aloft by magic clothes, the shapes and softness of the forms grinding against me, and the scent--the scent of so many fit, luscious women around me at once--I couldn't stop.

I caught sight of myself in the many, many mirrors--watching my frame tense against voluptuous ghosts--and wondered about the woman who set all this action in motion. I grinned, burying my face in the black stretch semi-gloss of the sports bra and taking a deep breath through my nose.

The outfit pulled us away from the locker, and I lost my grounding--apparently free of gravity now. The leggings were still gripping me, but I didn't seem to be held by my legs. As we hovered to the center of the locker room, I noticed my outfit was now in front of me, tangling with the yoga pants and halter top.

As I watched them turn over, playfully wrestling each other, I imagined invisible people in the clothes. The accuracy wasn't just in the curves or the motions of the limbs--it even seemed to extend to the negative space beyond the clothes, where the hands, faces, and lips would be. When the yoga pants landed on top of the tangle, they were straddling my athletic pants and leaning into them. It looked like the two outfits were kissing for a few seconds before my shirt's compression sleeves rose toward the halter top, apparently groping its cups. I watched as the halter's breasts deformed and stretched with the motions of my shirt.

It was too much--my engorged cock rocking between the bouncing spandex ass cheeks, swollen by magic and the shape of whatever woman they were aiming to emulate. I wanted so badly to come, but just before the point of no return, the spandex pants carefully slithered around me and turned me over as well.

I was disoriented for a second as I was ridden in the same way as my outfit. I only noticed now that we were heading slowly toward the locker room door, and I was trailed by an entourage of panties--passing in front of me one-by-one and teasing in front of my nose.

I dared to grab at a pair of airy, microfiber panties, reaching through both legs to hook the crotch. I held on to it, giggling as it tried to get away. Suddenly, five other pairs of panties were mashed against my space. A split second later, I heard a thunk, feeling both pull and sharp pain through my backside. I struggled to turn my face through the cloud of underwear and looked under me to see a menacing racquetball paddle ready to strike again.