Tries to act normal, of course

“Denise? Food’s here!” She had no idea what she was going to do—or where in the house all the animated items were. The sheer number of things that seemed to respond to her last verbal request made it pretty likely that… “Denise!”

“Mom!?” Denise responded, still bound and suspended by the satin robe. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” Her mother shouted from downstairs. “Are you interviewing for something? Because my work clothes are, like, all over down here.” Denise groaned as the satin sash prodded her clit again, gently working it back and forth. The robe pinched her ass, as if to get her to respond.

“Um, yeah! Sorry about that,” Denise said, thrashing against the robe as soon as she stopped speaking. It held her tight—and all she did was tire herself. She spoke again, giving up her fight. “I kind of left stuff all over the house. I was trying to get a feel for walking in some of it.” She would have banged her head against a wall for saying something so patently dumb if she were in control of her body—but the robe wouldn’t relent. The satin flaps rubbed against Denise’s chest now, adding more stimulation to her already overworked mind.

She curled her toes. When her legs tensed up, she grinned for a second. The robe was holding her completely aloft, playing with her body in ways she never dreamed of. She lifted her knees to convince herself she was right, and now there was no doubt.

She was untethered to gravity. What’s more—the enchantments downstairs had mysteriously fallen asleep again the moment Denise’s mother walked in. Whatever the sum total of effects in Adam’s spell, the forces at hand seemed to have some kind of intelligence, and its apparent interest in keeping itself a secret set Denise at ease a little.

She still had to get a hold of Adam.

“Are you coming down? Get dinner while it’s still hot!” Downstairs, Denise’s mom sat at their little dining room table, digging in. Behind her, the boots she’d just taken off stood upright and zipped themselves. She turned around and squinted at them. Had she just heard a zipper in the room? Her mom turned back toward the hallway. “Hon?”

Denise’s hands were clamped against the hems of the robe, flowing and pulsing against her as she tried to recover from the throes of an orgasm. She shook, listening to her mother calling her downstairs. She had to say something before her curiosity carried her up the stairs.

“I—I’m coming! I’m just cleaning up here.” Denise set her feet back on the ground as the robe allowed her to stand up. Her mom’s bodysuit stood in her bedroom doorway, apparently watching her. “Can you guys, like—clean yourselves up instead of just dropping all over the place up here?” Denise hissed. The robe slapped at her ass, and she threw the thing off her shoulders. “I need some real clothes, too,” She whispered to the other things still dancing around upstairs.

“I should’ve changed before I sat down to eat,” Denise’s mother muttered to herself, reaching behind her to undo a wedgie. “So all day these pants are fine, but the moment I sit down...” She gasped as her underwear pulled up again, this time entering her view when the back pulled up. “What in the name of...”

“Mom!” Denise sprang out from the doorway, nearly stumbling into the kitchen. It wasn’t exactly her legs that carried her in there to begin with. Her hand slapped against the back of a chair at the kitchen table, and she instinctually grabbed it. Her sleeve pulled her arm away, and she shimmied forward and slipped into the chair in one smooth motion. “Thanks for curry!” Denise hoped her shaky, broken pacing wasn’t too noticeable. She looked up at her mom, who was turned halfway around in her chair. “Mom? Are you looking for something?”

“I’m...not sure,” Dianne said. She laughed at herself for a second. Her underwear must have gotten caught on a sliver of the chair slat behind her...or something. She swore she felt some kind of **** tug up on her thong. How silly. “You look like you’ve been busy,” Denise’s mom continued. “Running around trying on every outfit?” She clumsily forked a wad of noodles into her mouth with her chopsticks.

“Uh, yeah—sorry about that,” Denise said, smiling. “I’ll clean it all up.” Denise’s eyes flashed at the living room, where she saw a pair of tight grey executive pants walk out the far doorway. Dianne noticed her expression and turned to meet her gaze, but the pants were already out of view.

“What?” Dianne asked, playing with another wad of noodles.

“I’m not sure either,” Denise shrugged. She was practically sweating. Did the clothes know? They were certainly nice enough to obscure themselves...for now.

What Denise couldn’t see was her own mother’s tension across the table. After her shifting underwear ordeal, she was having the strangest sensations—on her thighs, at the tips of her nipples...between her legs. Every attempt to shift her body or distract herself didn’t seem to relieve her. Dianne fiddled with her chopsticks, taking a modest bite again before grabbing her water.

Dianne felt her breasts held aloft—as if scooped up by something. She half-coughed into her water, causing Denise to look back up at her.

“I’m okay,” Dianne said. “Little windpipe issue.” She coughed again, and Denise laughed nervously.

“Are we both a little on-edge?” Denise said, trying to lighten the mood. Her mom smiled and shrugged.

“I’m not! I apparently just forgot how to eat and drink in the last 2 minutes.” Dianne rubbed her own shoulders, trying to shake off the odd phantom sensations. “Are you?”

“Well, my interview,” Denise lied, using her mom’s earlier assumption to her advantage. “But, you know. I always overthink things.” This time, when more of Dianne’s clothes sauntered out of the back of the living room, Denise tried not to let her eyes flinch from the conversation between her and her mother.

But she’d made a mistake. Mentioning the interview again only served to remind Dianne of her clothes, strewn all over the living room. She turned to say something, and this time—there were plenty of things still in view.

“There had to be something—wh--”

Quick jerks of her neck, bringing her eyes meet those of a horrified Denise, then back to the unreality of what she glanced at.

Her own pantyhose, a ghostly wine-colored bubble of legs and hips, tapering to Dianne’s trim waist. Walking out the door toward the den, which wrapped around its own second exit to the stairway again. A heather skirt followed them out, hovering over a pair of cream-colored ankle boots.

“Mom.” Dianne turned back to Denise, who was reaching her hand across the table. Dianne just looked down with wide eyes and grabbed it. “You with me?” Dianne nodded at her daughter, almost in some kind of instinct-level fugue response. “Please, please keep your cool. I know how weird this looks, but...unngh!” Denise’s own underwear wedged up between her legs now. “Guys, are you kidding me?” Dianne watched the back waistband of Denise’s boy-shorts rise out of her pants on its own.

“Denise, your--” Her mom pointed at her underwear before turning around again to check on the haunted clothes behind her. While nearly everything had headed back to Dianne’s bedroom, at least one pair of pantyhose decided to stay behind—approaching the door to the kitchen instead. “And my...Denise--what IS GOING ON!?”

Dianne stood up abruptly, pulling her hand away from the table and slamming her chair between her and her own pantyhose.

“Mom!” Denise stood, trying to ignore the teasing from her misbehaving shorts. “You have to stay cool! They’re not going to hurt us.” Dianne turned back, confused and angry.

“Stay cool?! What do you KNOW about this?” Dianne gasped, looking down at her chest.

“Oh, good god—PLEASE be nice to her.” Denise hoped she wasn’t making it worse by pleading with it. “Mom, just...” Denise’s eyes locked with Dianne’s, and her mother blushed. She couldn’t meet her daughter’s gaze and feel what she was feeling without some shame showing in her face. Denise seemed to recognize this, and looked down. “I don’t wanna say, like, let it happen, but...”

“Can you j-just answer th-the question?” Dianne’s chest was being worked over, and she couldn’t move her arms to try and cover it up. It was warm, soft caressing, but she certainly couldn’t appreciate that at the moment. She had no idea what kind of absolute insanity her own flesh and blood had gotten into to make something like this happen.

“Adam-and-I-were-playing-with-this-magic-book-and-mom-I--” Denise slowed down as she looked up at her mom again. “I fucked up, mom. I need to talk to Adam. He’s got the book!” Dianne offered the slightest of smiles, trying to calm Denise down.

“That’s insane...and there’s also no other explanation for this.” She winced a little, feeling her nipple pinched. “Whatever you need to do, Denise...are you sure these things are—hmmm…” Dianne’s panties had found something far more fun to do than simply give her a wedgie.

This time, Denise couldn’t offer a response. Another rogue pair of pantyhose had come all the way around from the den and surprised her from behind. They leapt into the air and clamped their strong nylon legs around her, coiling them like constrictors and ignoring any emulation of the human legs that once filled them. Before she could say a word, a white cotton ankle sock leapt to her mouth, shoving its toes between her lips. She opened her mouth and let the cottony toes in, only to bite as hard as she could on the sock a second later.

If she hurt the things, she couldn’t tell. She probably made them a little angry, though. As soon as she let up on her jaw, the rest of the sock balled up and stuffed itself into her mouth.

She was pulled back into her chair by her pants, and now the mate to the anklet stuffed inside her mouth was standing ON her mouth. She was muffled as she watched her mom—her eyes closed and her mind apparently away for a moment—hovering into the air and sailing toward the living room.

And suddenly, all the clothes that Denise asked to see dancing were at it once more. Only now—she literally couldn’t ask for anything, and their newest dance partner was her mother.