You're led back to your room, where your own outfit has plans

The bouncy plaid leggings lean forward so far that you think they're falling over, but as the tapered cuffs at the ankles rise into the air, you realize they are simply hovering face-down, parallel with the ground.

Before you can ask what this was about, the living pantyhose around your lower-half leap into the air, straddling the shiny plaid lycra at their thick thighs. You sigh, watching the magic spandex ass flex and bounce--gripping your hose-coated cock between unreal cheeks and squeezing it as you sail into the air.

They bob you right out the door of your mother's room and into the hall, where a line of your mom's clothes seems to lead straight to...your room.

The way parts, and the clothes right outside your door--a tightly-filled red pantsuit and a tee-and-jeans combo--step aside to let you and your hovering escort in. Your mother's clothes seem to regard you everywhere you go--as if they're waiting for something big. The hollow forms in her clothes don't have eyes, of course, but there's a tension you can feel when you go by the doorway.

When you see the bedroom, you understand why.

Your rebelling outfit now stands in the center of your room, right at the foot of your bed. The magic book is hovering right in front of it, and at the ends of one of your shirtsleeves--a short, gleaming wand.

The outfit has apparently been waiting for you. With a motion of the wand, you lift off of your soft lycra cushion and float toward the bed. Your mom's translucent pantyhose slither off you now, making you wiggle a bit as the tight nylon slides off your dick.

A trail of pre-cum follows the hose out, and they go and stand next to your own outfit, plumping themselves to the proportions you requested from the leggings earlier.

And maybe *standing* is an understatement. The voluptuous pantyhose begin to slide their soft, silky feet along the cuffs of your animated jeans. Before long, your mother's pantyhose are grinding longingly against your clothes.

“I don’t know if this really counts as explaining,” You say, never taking your eyes off the two pairs of legs. Your lips hang open as you watch your jeans develop an emulated hard-on. Your own cock follows close behind, and you try to talk before things get busy. "Wh--where did you get a wand, anyway?"

You don't get an answer. You watch your aforementioned mother’s clothes file into your room, surrounding your bed in a semi-circle. The red pantsuit, tee-and-jeans, a cocktail dress with nude hose and silver high heels, and a set of silky pajamas lead the way--even as more file in.

“It seems like you have a little more planned than you mentioned,” you say, watching the procession. A pink angora sweater marches in with tight khaki pants. While you're staring at the soft, bouncing tits, the outfit seems to regard you. The slender pink sleeves reach up to the sweater's mounds.

You watch invisible fingers bury themselves in the angora tits, which jiggle and deform. As the sweater gets grabby with itself, you watch the tits swell, growing outward like two torpedoes without adding to their girth. You chuckle at the odd sight, and the khakis strut forward.

Your cock twitches. The soft angora was stretched so thin, so tight, that you can see into the weave and through the empty pink sweater.

The tits on the thing are unreal--oblong conical shapes that look like they're formed by a hyper-exaggerated bullet bra. You grin like a fool as the cartoony form approaches your hovering body.

A pink sleeve reaches out, and you wiggle in the air a little while you watch it envelop your cock, sliding over it like an angora sheath.

“Oh my god…” you moan, looking down at the ghostly sweater. The scent of perfume and a hint of fresh clothing meets your senses, and you take a deep breath, staring at the sweater and reaching out for its swollen tits.

You can feel something other than angora sliding over your cock, though. Smooth...moist, as if the sleeve's emulating a pussy. You watch the sweater pump your cock, and the other sleeve rises to your chest.

In your bedroom, the semi-circle of your mother’s outfits is joined by more and more outfits coming from down the hall. Clearly you're the center of this show--and they're waiting to see the finale.

You wonder just how your magic cum figures into this, because the way the insanely busty sweater is jacking you off--you’re about to unload your enchanted spunk right into it.