You were swarmed by sexually aggressive underwear.

The moment you took a step back was like the starting shot at a race.

A boyshort panty covered your face with its slightly large rear, wiggling against you. Two pairs of hip briefs flew behind you while a pair of mesh Old Navy hipsters cradled your dick between their puffing cheeks, giving you a buttjob. Pushed backwards, you tried to step away--but the hip briefs prevented you from moving. As the cheeks of the panties moved up and down, inflating themselves and squeezing your now-revived erection, several thongs wove themselves around your fingers and wrists, pulling your hands out in front of you. They held your arms still as you watched everything else in the box dance to life.

The red sheer bra you were marveling at earlier was stirring--and your jaw dropped as you watched the clasp in the back of the band link together. The straps lifted and stretched as if inflated by an invisible pillow of air, and now the shapely bra moved toward you. The thongs on your hands **** the right palm into one of the bouncing g-cups of the bra while its matching sheer red panties began to rub your other hand with their massive derriere.

Some of the control briefs were grinding on your thighs and shins, giving your legs the same workover your cock was getting. Others humped themselves against your arms. The cameltoes of the latter were puffing out, cleft by the stretching fabric--and you wondered if it was possible for living underwear to be aroused.

The boyshort panty moved downward to rub itself on your chest. Your face’s freedom was short-lived, as now the bras began to make their move to join their counterparts by surrounding your head with the invisible bosoms in their well-filled cups.

You saw the shiny silver DD-bra to the left of your head--the second biggest in the room. It belonged to a personal trainer from your neighborhood. She seemed pretty nice…until she managed to talk your mom into working out with her. From that point on, you never heard the end of how important it was to start ‘being fit’ at your age. That didn’t stop you from staring at her when she stopped by the house to go to the gym with your mom, though.

The bra to the right of your head belonged to the sexy jogger you’d see now and then; it was a glossy charcoal grey sports bra. She had nice D-cup breasts, which flowed beautifully in her workout gear. She tended to ignore your stares, if she noticed them at all. She was passing friends with your mom even though they worked for competing companies...which always seemed a bit weird to you.

The Bra behind your head belonged to a girl down the road that you’ve been friends with for years. She had perfectly-shaped C-cups matched by an athletic body, and a bit of a mischievous side. When you were younger, she tricked you into wearing women’s clothes. Later it happened through bets and dares rather than outright deception--which stopped working when you realized the zipper and buttons were on opposite sides for men and women’s clothes.

You didn’t have time or breath to protest--any attempt to get enough space to speak was foiled by the bras working in tandem. Your hands were still held by the thongs, now forcing you to grope the beautifully bouncing G-cups.

This is what you wanted anyway, wasn’t it? You knew what to expect after reading the spell. You took in the living clothing all around you, wondering just how many women they represented. Outside of the four brassieres giving you some extra special attention, there were certainly more than a dozen more body shapes galavanting their unseen curves in haunted underwear.

And those four bras bouncing their magically heavy cups against your face? You could smell them--the sweet scent of the women they belonged to. Expensive-smelling perfume from the silver double-d’s, lavender from the shiny sports bra, and vanilla from the gigantic, pillowy sheer g-cups in front of you.

You buried your face in the ghostly tits, letting the situation pull you in. This magic had already taken you places you couldn’t believe--and this time it yielded results you had no shame about diving into. The gigantic cups pressed back against you, firm and bouncing. Your whole face was resting well between the cups now, squeezed between them. The sheer red fabric allowed your panting breath through, enough that you could take in a deep breath through your nose and imagine yourself buried in the tits of this bra’s owner.

As you were pleasured by the jiggling, animated cheeks of the panties working your cock, you imagined the girl that owned them, writhing inside and begging you to impale her. Your mind spun fantasies with each of the invisible shapes in the room, imagining neighbors you knew well and bodies you only had a passing animal familiarity with.

With the attention being lavished on you and your wandering mind linking these haunted underclothes to their warm-blooded owners, it wasn’t long before you grew hard enough to cum on the mesh Old Navy Hipsters.

This time, it almost felt like your cock was being milked by something hungry for your cum. After you came, everything seemed to slow to a stop and all the underwear froze in place. You tried to struggle against the stillness, but it seemed like you were caught in a web of stone and metal, not lace and cotton.

All the underwear glowed brightly for a moment, forcing to to close your eyes until the light dissipated and the spots in your eyes vanished. When you opened them again...