The clothes show themselves (and you) to Sarah, whether you like it or not

You weren't sure where Sarah went, but you knew she couldn't be far. You didn't hear her go down the stairs, and her door was half open. You wanted to try to talk some sense into the clothes, but the red thong was already heading out into the hall, following your blue briefs and black boxer briefs. Sarah's orange panties hovered up in front of your face again as your own athletic shorts carried you bobbing out into the hall, and you tried to look past them to see where your two pairs of stray underwear were headed.

You reached up for the hips of the orange panties, trying to pull them down at the waist, but the shape held fast, and ass filling them out bounced against your nose – pushing against you even as you were brought into the hall. That's when you heard exactly what you didn't want to hear:

"What in the hell is that?" You heard Sarah say. "Are those…" You hear a loud gasp, and suddenly Sarah is calling at the top of her lungs, “Adam, are these your fucking underwear?!" You hear her squeal from behind the door, which suddenly slams itself shut. You expect the panicked sounds to continue, but soon after, they're muffled by something.

You're in no position to help her as you are floating down the hallway, subject to the advances of her own underwear and your enchanted athletic shorts holding you in the air. As you bob by your mother's bedroom, you see your own black boxer briefs standing in front of the pair of living Isotoner gloves, stroking the package behind the black fabric. You have a bad feeling that this spell is about to get extremely wild as you see drawers slide open and puffs of fabric shoot out as you sail by the door. You can't tell exactly what's happening beyond that, but it seems like the enchantments' aims are a little less cautious and a little bit more ambitious.

You're pulled most of the way to Sarah's closed door when the red thong begins to glide its strip of silky fabric against your cock, strained behind the athletic shorts lifting you into the air. Sarah's panties are unrelenting, bouncing their ass against your face as you begin to shift horizontally in the air.

Sarah's door clicks open, and now you can hear that the muffled sounds seem to have become a lot less panicked, and sounding a lot more like moaning.

Just before you hover into the room, Sarah's orange panties let their hips tumble over your forehead. Suddenly your vision is obscured as you sail into the room. The moaning intensifies, and you reach your hands up to pull the cottony fabric out of your way even though you're not sure you're going to want to see what's going on.

“Arhhhhhm—Aaom!” You know it's Sarah, and you're pretty sure she's trying to call out your name. The lack of control over these enchantments has your libido going again, even though every other part of you knows that what's happening is absolutely over the line now. Before, it was only you subject to the whims of this insane magic — but now you were hovering in your sister's room while the out of hand enchantments seemed to be doing unspeakable things to her. Sarah's broken consonants become moans again, and your stereoscopic hearing tells you that she's being flung around the room in some way. You didn't want to do anything that would alarm your mother downstairs, but now any strategic action seemed well beyond that point. However futile, you had to try to come to your sister's defense.

"I told you all this doesn't involve them!" You cry out before the panties over your face respond by plunging the fabric of their crotch into your mouth. You gag a little as the underwear stretches to restrain your voice, and it's just enough for you to see around the seams at the leg holes.

You stare in horror as you watch Sarah being bounced against the ceiling by a pair of her own yoga pants. The slightly glossy skintight forms are slamming her ass-first against the painted ceiling, and you can clearly see that the junction of the fabric between her legs is going deeper than any normal-fitting pair of pants would. Sarah's literally being fucked by her own yoga pants.

Her panties retreat from around your head, but in doing so, scrunch themselves up and **** the rest of the article squarely into your mouth to redouble the **** of the gag. Now you can see her unhindered, and when you look up at her being bounced against the ceiling, you notice her hands are out to her sides bracing against the **** instead of pulling at her enchanted pants.

She's panting, clearly gagged as squarely as you, but there's something in her eyes as she catches sight of you that horrifies you even more.

The moment you seem to meet each other's gaze, your athletic shorts slip off of you in a rush, forgoing any pace of teasing. When your cock pops out, it's already at half mast — a fact that horrifies you even more as you notice Sarah's eyes jump your midsection. The embarrassment burns through you as you wave your arms around, looking for any enchanted cloth to wring or rip. The spell is clearly beyond any reasoned negotiation at this point, and being defiled in front of your own sister while the enchantments use her own body to entertain themselves is beyond the last straw.

Your face feels red-hot, and the frustration has to show pretty clearly. You're doing your best to intimidate and threaten them, but the orange panties puff your cheeks as you try to get the words out, making every sound emanating from you a melange of futile broken syllables. You calm long enough to see Sarah's eyes darting around the room, and out of animal instinct, you follow her attention to the new assailants approaching you.

One of them is the red and silver long-sleeved leotard. Looking around, you also see a shining black sleeveless leotard and a pair of white knee-length socks. The knee-length socks come into range first, and you grab hold of both arches as they approach your midsection. You try with every drop of your strength to twist the emulated feet, to make these things feel pain somehow. As soon as you grip them tightly, though, the feet reverse themselves entirely-- inverting the fabric and sucking both of your hands into the ankles. The socks keep inverting themselves, their long cuffs swallowing up your forearms and bending your arms back behind you as soon as they're able to take hold.

The reversed knee-highs gently pull up on your arms with just enough **** to show you that they mean business. You certainly can't rip through this gauge of cotton from the angle you're facing — but if the socks want to, they can probably break both of your arms.

That horrific thought alone ceases your resistance, and the moment you stop struggling against them, they let both of your arms relax behind you. You wheeze into Sarah's panties, relieved for the moment until you look back up at your sister again.

She doesn't appear to be panicking anymore. Now, one of her hands is just above her crotch, as if she's exploring how her living yoga pants are moving over her body. Her other hand is still stabilizing her against the ceiling, and if you didn't know any better you'd swear that she was beginning to rock herself with the rhythm of the bouncing pants.

Even more horrifying than the threat of two broken limbs is the look in Sarah's eyes, which seems even more intense now than it was 90 seconds ago. You try to plea to her to snap out of it, but again, every word your mind is forming for your lips becomes a jumbled mess as Sarah's panties forcefully block anything your larynx has to say. She's watching every second of your struggle — and she's clearly more enthralled than she is terrified.