Sort of, but the spell had a better one

Dianne knew nothing about the intelligence the enchantments exhibited to Denise when they left her a note telling her they only wanted to have fun. She only knew that getting a hold of Denise's friend Adam--and the book he apparently had--was the key to putting a stop to this...or at least mitigating it.

Adam had been over to their house a couple of times to pick up Denise. He dressed a little drab...but other than that, he seemed level-headed and polite enough. Even if Denise wasn't convinced about the need for some countermeasure for this magic, maybe Dianne could convince him.

She just needed Denise's phone, right?

But the other detail Dianne didn't know was that the 'spell' also knew who Adam was--and that he had the book. He was, after all, the person that encanted it and set all this into motion. The spell already had its own designs on him...but he wasn't going to show up until just the right moment. That moment was on its way, but it hadn't come just yet.

The enchantments were fine-tuning both of the women now, though the younger of the two seemed to take to their advances more easily. Their new toy was a bit more cautious, though her body seemed to respond to their advances in much the same way. On having them in the same room, the reaction was a little more complex. There was a mix of both shame and giddy excitement, in different proportions with each of the women. Still, almost all of the energy was useful to the enchantments and their plans. They simply had to accelerate the process before bringing the key element in — and whether the two allowed themselves to be ruled by social restraint or carnal pleasure, the result for the enchantments' purposes would be much the same.

Dianne watched her daughter, hovering around the room with one of Dianne's own nightgowns. Denise still had her arms wrapped around it, but instead of just embracing the thing, she began exploring the invisible curves under the billowy gown. Only now did Dianne notice that she also seem to be rocking her hips back and forth, shimmying against it.

"Denise! What are you doing to my gown?" Dianne asked. She let out a squeak before Denise could answer her, the result of her nipples being pinched by her living bra. She put her hands up to her cups to stop them, but this was just as futile as trying to keep her jeans from grabbing her ass before. All she could do was feel the fabric moving on its own, which shifted from pinching to a gentle massage. Dianne couldn't help but let out a little moan. Although the audible utterance made her that much more self-conscious, she let out another when her panties renewed the sensual **** on her clit.

"I don't know, what you doing with your own underwear?" Denise asked defiantly, daring her blushing mother to answer.

"I'm reacting to whatever you started here, young lady," Dianne said, trying to sound as stern as she possibly could in this situation. Dianne looked at her bedroom doorway to find one of her pantsuits, filled out tightly and wagging a sleeve at Denise. Was it joining in chiding her? "I don't know how you can be so casual about all this happening when we're both in the same room…"

Denise shrugged at first, but when she looked up at Dianne attempting to be serious about the whole situation, the reticence showed on her face. She was, after all, responsible for all of this.

"Well, some part of me has to believe this isn't happening," Denise said. She loosed her grip on the gown, easing on her liberal examination of its silky surface. Dianne thought for a second that she had gotten through to her daughter when Denise was suddenly yanked away from the gown and toward the outfit waiting at the door. "Hey, what gives?" Denise was suspended in the air again, apparently directed by the sleeve of the pantsuit.

She hovered towards it with her ass in the air, and now the other sleeve of the pantsuit pointed toward a small bookshelf on the far side of Dianne's room. One of Diane's more bawdy 'red' novels slid from between two other books and headed towards the empty, outreached sleeve. One of the sleeves from Diane's pantsuit went beneath Denise's midsection as the other began swinging at her **** ass, still holding the book.

Denise squealed as the first spanking came, and Dianne covered her mouth and watched with wide eyes as her own pantsuit began spanking her daughter. Diane's underwear kept playing with her body, and in her frustration, Dianne tried to pull her panties away from her pussy to stop them playing with her clit.

"You can't just do that to—" Diane's exclamation was cut short by one of her own leather gloves, clapping itself over her mouth and keeping her from speaking. Instead of resisting her, Diane's panties gladly pulled away from her waist, sliding straight down her legs and filling out to invisible hips just as the rest of the clothes had. Dianne reached a hand up to the glove muting her, trying to pry the leather fingers away from her face. She tried to cover her mound with her other hand, attempting to retain the least bit of modesty in front of the distracted Denise.

For their part, Denise's own panties began sliding down over her ass in between slaps from the paperback. Denise was cooing and moaning now, apparently over the initial shock enough for her to savor her own situation.

"No, you're right—" Denise said with almost a throaty growl, "it was very bad of me to get us into this situation. Very, very bad." Dianne couldn't see the girl's face, but she knew well enough that Denise was toying with her. Dianne tried with both hands to get the leather glove off of her mouth now, wanting more than ever for Denise to come to her senses and help her dial back this madness. To see her behaving this way, even under these ludicrous circumstances, didn't at all put Dianne at ease. The two of them truly were toys to these enchantments, and Denise was apparently more than happy to play along. As for Dianne, her single leather glove was stronger than both of her hands. Even in her desperation, digging her nails into the leather itself in a feeble attempt to 'hurt' it, the thing wouldn't budge.

In Dianne's closet, a few more items shuffled around. As a terrified Dianne imagined how this hedonistic and unreal scene could possibly get worse for her, the energy around her fed on those exact thoughts. Of course, she didn't realize she could give this magic ideas just by thinking about things — but the nature of the magic in the enchantments had spread to all of her belongings…even the ones she wouldn't ever want Denise to know about.