You’re turned over and spanked by a fleet of latex gloves.

Pulled into the air, you look around the room at the chaos of enchanted objects, realizing now the effect of incanting a spell without a very clear focus. Now things were out of your control, and it was all because you assumed nothing was going to happen in the first place.

“C-can you let me down?” You ask, looking up at the red leather above you, still tightly gripping both your wrists. When you feel your dick grabbed and gently pulled, you suck air and look down at your waist, watching the white isotoners pull you to full attention. You quiver with pleasure, unable to deny the arousal you’re feeling--your biology is giving everything away.

And it’s not the only tell, apparently. As your mind wanders through other things that might spring to life and suddenly take interest in you, you see a paperboard box hover in front of you--the glossy packaging shining in the sunlight dazzling the room.

A box of black latex gloves--the kind your hairdresser mother always keeps a stash of for colorings and perms she’d do at home for friends--is dancing in front of you, rocking back and forth before the perforated top bursts open on its own.

A dozen hollow latex hands swells from the thin, flat gloves, and your jaw drops open as you watch them interact. Two gloves give each other a high five, a pair seems to mime cracking their non-existent knuckles, another pair claps, and the other six sail straight toward you, gleaming in the setting sunlight.

The red leather gloves continue holding you aloft, and the white isotoner stroking your cock seems to have no interest in relinquishing its position. Its mate gently teases you, tracing white leather fingers down your sack as the black latex gloves approach.

Two of them go straight for your nipples. You look down at them, panting short little gasps before gently clamping down on your own lips and feeling the sensations of the ghostly hands. Two more gloves start at your shoulders, massaging their sides since your arms are extended up in front of you. They head toward the middle of your back, continuing the masseuse-like ministrations and slowly moving lower and lower.

Another pair grips your ankles, which makes you more than a little nervous as you watch a second pair head to about the same place, wiggling their fingers menacingly. The last four gloves follow suit, two of them grabbing and squeezing your thighs as the other two trace down your sides--making you giggle despite trying to resist.

When you look down, you see the second pair near your ankles dive under your soles, and a split second goes by before the on your feet begins. The latex fingers trace from your toughened heels up through your arch, making you kick involuntarily as you let out an audible howl.

“Noooo...no way, don’t do that…”

You know you probably can’t resist these things, but you can’t help your ticklishness. Your thrashing is as powerful as your ticklish reflexes allow, but this only seves to show you how strong the enchanted objects are. You can wiggle your knees forward a bit, but the kicking isn’t getting you anything but tired, and the gloves seem to be able to follow every tiny spasm anyway.

As you howl laughter, the red gloves suddenly pull forward, allowing you to double over in reaction to the tickling at your sides. You lean forward, going with the motion until you sense the gloves at your back now going lower than any legit masseuse should--gripping and squeezing your ass just as you accidentally give them better access.

When the tickling suddenly abates, you sputter whispers of gratitude to the unspeaking playing with you.

You realize that reaction is a bit premature when you feel a stinging, rubbery WHAP on your ass.

“Oww! What’d you do that for?”

You don’t reasonably expect an answer from all these animated gloves, but the random sensuality has you asking the question anyway. Now a second slap came on your other cheek, and without really meaning it, you tremble a little and let it out.

“Mmmmm…”

The gloves seem to respond to your little sound--and a few more line up behind you, taking turns at swatting your ass. Some of them seem to flatten before they slap, making a tight smack noise while others overinflate and make a dull thud against your flesh as they momentarily grab and jiggle your cheeks.

Now the isotoner gripping your dick moves faster, and the gloves seem to know you’re loving every second of this, even if the full power of the you’ve unleashed is an unknown quantity. It’s powerful, and you don’t really know the sum of its motive--but for now, you don’t care.