Shouldn't I be dressed first?

"M-makeup?" I asked. She nodded, drifting over to me. The leather gloves attending my member crawled up to my chest, beginning to massage my pecs as I let out a sigh. She grabbed my cock, squeezing it and making me sputter a surprised syllable.

"Yes, makeup. Look at those cheekbones...those stormy grey eyes...if something's worth doing, it's worth doing right." She let go of me, and I drifted ahead of her now, back toward the escalators. A pair of emerald green satin panties met us halfway there. I marveled at the suspended shape of them as they rose up to my face, almost seeming to watch me.

"Uh...hi." I muttered, unsure of what to expect from this faceoff.

"I'd much prefer a more delicate color on you, but sometimes the clothes pick the person--isn't that what they say?" I turned to her.

"Do they?" I asked. She only laughed in response.

"Don't dilly-dally," she said, apparently addressing the panties. "We've got work to do." The obedient underwear dove down under my legs and slid right back up, forcing a sound out of me when they passed over my well-teased and already sensitive cock. I started to reach down to feel myself through the satin, but the leather gloves quickly grabbed both my wrists. The green satin hugged me like a second skin at first, pushing tight against me and gripping me so I could see an outline of my hardened member.

I let out a moan, my arms involuntarily struggling against the leather hands gripping my wrists.

"No no no, my sweet. Your rewards are quid pro quo. I won't have you spending yourself until we get what we want. She pointed at the panties. "But even if you have to wait hours to light the fuse in that cannon of yours, that doesn't mean you won't enjoy the meticulous priming..." I felt something deliciously soft swell over every square inch of my skin, shuddering out a cackle as I was gripped in a whole new way. Instead of feeling the satin sliding against the underside of me alone, I felt something softer and slippier, more frictionless than even the glossy green fabric itself.

I looked down to see my cock, hanging in the empty space between my skin and the now over-inflated panties. This must have been exactly what happened to the guy in sleepwear. I struggled to look over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of the same effect behind me.

"That's--that's..."

"Now see?" She asked, smiling as she lazily hovered around to the front of my body. "Not only does this supply the more aestethic shape I'm looking for..." she reached a hand down, stroking the crotch of the panties and sinking her middle finger between simulated labia stretching into the glossy strip, "but it sheathes you better than any ordinary clothing possibly could." She raised her eyebrows, dipping her finger deep into the fold. I felt electric dance over the tip of my cock despite the fact that nothing was making contact with it.

I met her eyes with a helpless sort of gratitude, bringing me to the realization that my captor had perfect control over me--mind and body.

"Yeaaaah," she whispered. "I always know a good little sissy when I see one." She drifted away, continuing ahead of me now. My eyes were locked on her bulging thighs and ass straining against her tight leather skirt. "Now lets get you looking nice and professional for your new boss...her orientation will be over soon."

I kept looking around as we drifted toward business casuals, spotting the young guy who was being tended by stockings before. He was standing on the floor now--or so I thought until I realized he was getting the same treatment. He was wearing the pink satin camisole, more or less, sporting voluptuous phantom tits that jiggled with his every step. He seemed to be following an empty pair of pantyhose sauntering in front of him, and when he passed through a gap between racks, I saw that his own lower half was sheathed in shiny nylon, his legs suspended in the same phantom space as his torso and my hips. The squishy, overinflated feet of the hose pressed against the floor with each step, but his toes inside the translucent forms never once hit the ground. It excited and unnerved me at the same time--his experience in loss of control both horrifying me and making me jealous.

"Don't you worry, cutie, yours are in tow..." The witch turned, her breasts heaving from her basque as she giggled. "You must have patience...though I have to say that your kinky conflicted enthusiasm continues to pleasantly surprise me." When I heard he say that mine were 'in tow', I looked over my shoulder to see a pair of cream stockings with delicate lace embroidery around the tops of the thighs. They followed us with a seductive gait as we continued down the aisle, free of gravity.

The man who was happily worshipping boots a few moments ago was now wearing a pair of black knee-highs, leaving me to wonder how exactly his stout legs were packed into them. But they weren't all he was wearing...black opaque leggings continued up to a garish, silver lamé skirt, tightly filled with a ludicrously enormous bubble butt.

That's when I noticed knit red sleeves against the metallic ass, complete with invisible fingertips sinking into the lamé bubble and squeezing with vigor. The dressed up man whirled around, revealing a hollow sweaterdress wrapping its empty arms around him, leading him in a ghostly dance that he no doubt had zero control over. He had a black silk halter top on, and the orbs hovering out in front of it and squeezing against the sweaterdress' own impressive chest dwarfed even the ones I'd seen in the satin pajamas from earlier. The man was lost in his dance, staring blankly into the empty collar of the sweaterdress as the two forms danced to the eerie silence.

The living outfits well outnumbered the victims caught up in this place, probably by as much as 50 to 1. The ubiquity of animated clothes was such that only the human victims--if you could really call us that--caught and held my attention. I began to wonder where all the women had gone to when I saw three figures emerge from a door leading to the stock room. One was the other witch I'd seen earlier--but I couldn't be sure about the other two. One thing was clear--none of them needed to walk to get where they wanted to go.

"Well, here comes the rest of your lovely outfit now," the full-figured witch said, pointing down another aisle. From the women's business casuals, I watched as the other dancing and flying garments hovered or stepped aside to make way for it.

It was a massively busty green satin blouse, shimmering and billowing as it strutted down the aisle. I say strut because a tight, wide-hipped leather skirt in creamy black lambskin floated under it, with invisible legs scissoring the burgeoning curves of the lower hem back and forth, making the hips swing with haughty feminine confidence. Black patent pumps made dull clicks against the carpeted floor with every step, making me wonder to myself what kind of magic would pack my size 13s into them.

Out in front of the outfit, a full figured green lace bra turned the corner, translucent and scalloped with intricate lace designs. I couldn't imagine the body of the woman these clothes were made to fit, but I knew that--with the exception of the shoes, every piece of these enchanted clothes were going to fit themselves around me just fine.

"Let's get your bra on for now...but we'll hold off on the rest for the moment. I want to show you off and check in on some naughty little ladies downstairs."

The leather gloves that had been gently but firmly wrapped around my wrists let go--but before I could make a move, I felt their linings sail over my fingertips as every digit was imprisoned in the living leather gloves. They playfully wiggled my fingers, then held them out in front of me as if I was a girl admiring her own nails. As the green bra approached, it unclipped and turned itself around to slide its straps over the cooperative leather gloves, and my arms with them.

The shoulder straps still had to loosen a bit to accommodate me, but once the band clipped behind my back, the unseen bosoms in the cups inflated drastically, pushing out the scalloped cups and leaving me to contemplate the empty space between my broad chest and the hollow lacy orbs jutting 6 inches out in front of me. The gloves clamped around the well-filled bra, seeming to seat and center the form against me.

"Come on, ladies..." The witch beckoned. Don't keep me waiting up there. The outfit I expected to be jailing my body later slinked by me, holding out an invisible hand at the end of a satin sleeve. My black leather glove was more than happy to clasp it, and together we sailed down the escalator as the stockings followed behind us.