The outfit lifts you into the air, teasing you until you agree to read.

You sail into the air, heading toward the peak of the cathedral ceilings in the master bedroom suite.

When you reach the peak, the electric shutter in the arched window activates itself, shining light against you and blinding you momentarily as you squint. The curtains below sweep and pull back, bathing the room in light.

Clothing dances and whirls below you. Near the ceiling, you hover nude with the red leather gloves at your wrists. The white isotoners hold the book out in front of you, opening the tome to a page and holding a white finger against a new spell:

• SUMMONING AN ENTITY INTO A LIVING BEING -

You try to assess the details of the spell below its magical phrase, but the red leather gloves twist your arms back behind you as the spellbook shoves itself into your face.

“Oww! Hey--you’re asking me to--” The book pulls away, and one of the white gloves traces down the page, stopping on one of the many details you tried to read a second ago:

SHARING YOUR BODY WITH THIS INVITED ENTITY WILL PERMIT A TRAINED INDIVIDUAL ACCESS TO THE ABILITIES OF THE ENTITY WHILE ALLOWING THE ENTITY TO ACCESS YOUR CONSCIOUS MIND AND SYMPATHETIC NERVES.*

Just as you’re about to ask a question, the glove jumps to point at another word, this time in the middle of a paragraph:

‘PLEASURE’

The book pulls away again, almost as if it’s giving you a second to consider the situation. You go a little red-faced, realizing that your aim in the first spell was just that--carnal pleasure. Again, you didn’t believe it was going to work, but finding yourself here now, it was hard to deny your original intention…

...especially since you were effectively restrained and trapped near the ceiling of your mom’s room.

“Wh-what if I don’t read it?” You ask.

Immediately, you’re turned upside down and dropped just enough to put the fear of gravity in you once more. You find yourself gasping when you’re suddenly turned slightly upright again, staring at the book.

A comfortable distance away, the white glove is now pointing at the spell phrase again, most of the rest of the disembodied hand covering most of the spell details below it.

“Uh--okay! Okay, I’ll read it,” you say. “You...promise you’re not going to take control of me entirely, right? Share means...share.” The other white glove seems to understand your plea and leaves the book hovering, giving you an animated thumbs-up.

You don’t appear to have a choice. The words flow through your mouth easily enough, and when you finish with the phrase, you feel a warm sensation that begins in your skull and seems to flow down your nerves, sending a weak pulsing throb throughout your body. It isn’t unpleasant--just very strange and totally novel. It’s not a warmth of temperature or discomfort...but you can feel something in you that you can’t quite define.