Miranda the Witchbyoggbashan©
Copyright Oggbashan October 2004. The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
This is a long fantasy with mild female domination.
Chapter 1: The First Evening
The evening began conventionally enough. Miranda and I had both gone to the Chamber of Commerce's dinner dance. As most of the other members were married or in long term relationships Miranda and I had almost been obliged to pair up for the evening. I had no objection. That night she seemed to be the most entrancing woman there. I didn't know why. We had grown up in the same town. She had gone to school with my younger sister Emily. We had shops side by side in the High Street. We were both antique dealers and from time to time we would cover each other's business. She had been a pleasant partner at similar formal functions I'd never considered her as anything but a friend or the girl next door that you never notice. She was attractive but not conventionally pretty. Her long black hair was her best feature but was held in a formal style.
I couldn't stop myself from looking at her clothes that were a startling change from the little black dress she usually wore for such occasions. She was wearing a black shimmering bustier with a bright red floor-length satin skirt over layers of rustling white taffeta petticoats. Her skirt was nearly as wide as a Victorian crinoline. As she moved her bust was sparkling with reflected light. The massive skirt bounced and flowed around her as if it was alive.
Her clothes seemed to have transformed her personality. She was usually quiet and self-effacing. That evening she lived up to her outfit. She flirted with most of the men at our table. Her conversation was as sparkling as her bustier. This Miranda was one I didn't know but I liked. She was fun to be with.
We danced together most of the time. She danced beautifully but I was not at my best. I was falling in love and her skirt kept wrapping itself around my legs as if to keep me close to her. It seemed to have a life of its own. It fascinated me. I kept watching its movements rather than concentrating on my dancing, or on my partner. As the evening wore on many adjourned to the bar leaving a few dancers and onlookers. I was distracted by Miranda's skirt and nearly tripped a couple of times.
Finally Miranda snapped at me: "Why don't you let yourself go, Joss? If you relax we will dance much better."
I looked deep into her eyes. She nodded briefly at me and I felt my inhibitions and embarrassment melt away. My attraction to her clothes transferred to the woman inside them. From then on we moved as one. We astonished the few onlookers and ourselves by dancing an impassioned tango. Her skirt no longer impeded me. It caressed me, flowing around the pair of us as if it was enjoying the dance. As we walked off the floor to sparse but enthusiastic applause her skirt seemed to hug me closer to her. There was a chair by the open window and without a second thought I sat on it and pulled her to sit on my lap. She flipped up her skirt as she lowered herself. I felt her nylon-sheathed legs through my trousers. As I started to struggle to free my arms from her billowing skirt and petticoats Miranda stopped me with a kiss and a hug that held me pinioned.
"Why don't you take me home tonight, Joss," Miranda murmured in my ear. "We can share a taxi. You can have coffee at my place then go to your place later." Although our shops were side by side she had a cottage near the river and I had a house at the opposite end of the town.
The idea seemed so attractive that I agreed instantly. Then Miranda stood up, pulling me with her.
"Come on then, Joss. Let's go."
I hadn't expected to go so soon but...
In the back seat of the taxi I was again swamped. Miranda sat quite still but her skirt and petticoats covered me from feet to mid chest. Underneath their feminine exuberance my sex began to stir. If I hadn't known better I'd have thought that her clothes realised my growing excitement and pressed closer around me.
When we arrived at her house an all-black cat greeted her. The cat reminded me of a witch's familiar. Why should I think of witches? The cat wandered off after winding itself once or twice around Miranda.
In the main living room was a friendly clutter of objects. The only free seating was a large two-seat settee. Even that had lingerie strewn over one arm.
"Take a seat, Joss," said Miranda, waving an arm at the settee "I won't be long."
I lowered myself on to the settee furthest from the lingerie. It gave beneath me and as I adjusted my weight it seemed to shape itself around me. I sunk deep into its cushions vaguely aware that it would take an effort to get out of its depths.
The coffee came so quickly that I thought it must be instant. It wasn't. Miranda sat beside me.
"How do you like my settee?" she asked.
I searched for an appropriate answer. It was just a settee, wasn't it? An old one but not antique. It was comfortable like an old pair of shoes but didn't look or feel special.
"It's comfortable," I said "You could almost snuggle up into it."
That was the best I could think of.
"It has some unusual features," Miranda added.
As we drank our coffee I was puzzled. What unusual features? I knew that if Miranda said 'unusual' she meant it.
We exchanged small talk mainly about fellow members of the Chamber of Commerce. Miranda took my empty cup from me and put it beside hers on a side table.
"I'll show you how unusual it is." she said, standing up, shaking her skirt and petticoats out. Her action seemed automatic but the sound excited me.
She picked up a floor-length slip from the settee's arm. The slip had been covering a control panel let into the arm. She flipped a switch and an extension slid out lifting my legs off the floor as the back reclined. I was even more comfortable but almost horizontal. The settee held my body fully supported.
She moved another switch. From the centre of the settee and from the arm beside me four human looking arms closed around me. They looked and felt like women's arms but much stronger. As I opened my mouth to object Miranda threw another switch. A 'hand' clamped over my mouth stifling my protests. I looked up at her in astonishment. I hadn't expected anything other than polite conversation after a pleasant evening but now I was her prisoner in her unusual settee. I watched in pinioned horror and enforced silence as she flicked another switch. The cushions of the other half of the settee flipped themselves on top of me. I was covered from neck to beyond my feet. Only my head was uncovered but my mouth was held firmly by the 'hand'.
Miranda stood in front of me swishing her petticoats slightly.
"Well, Joss? What do you think of my unusual settee? Do you like it?"
I was unable to reply, gagged by that soft but firm 'hand'.
"Do you want to make love to me?" she asked, unpinning her glossy black hair and shaking it out to tumble over her bare shoulders.
"Oops! You can't answer yet."
She moved a switch and the 'hand' released my mouth and slid silently back into the settee.
"How's that? Do you want to?"
My voice was shaking. "Yes, I'd like to," I gulped out, forgetting to protest at my imprisonment.
"You'll have to earn the right to," she said.
I listened as she moved behind me and stood with her back to the settee. By craning my head I could just see her. Then she flipped up the back of her skirt and sat down on my face! In the scented cave under her skirt and layered petticoats I felt her silken panties press against my face. She squirmed over my face and then my nose slid into her. I couldn't breathe but I was enjoying the sensation. Soon, all too soon, she lifted herself off me. I panted for breath as she uncovered my face. She squatted beside my head and stroked it with her hand.
"Now I want to try something special," she whispered in my ear.
I heard the rustle of her petticoats as she reached under them and pulled her panties down and off. She held them in front of my face.
"Do you like them?" she asked, holding the skimpy white silk and lace close to my face.
"Would you like to be them and be that close to me?"
"Yes!" The thought nearly made me come on the spot.
"We'll see," she said mysteriously. "Keep quiet and still."
I had no choice because her hand covered my mouth and the settee held me firmly.
She held her panties in one hand while the other pressed my mouth. Then she started chanting in a language I had never heard. As she finished with a long drawn-out word I felt my body shrinking towards her hand. I could still feel and see but my body was vanishing. My clothes were left behind. Her hand grew larger and larger. It took only a few seconds before I was just a pair of panties dangling from her hand, a match for the ones she had taken off. She dropped the other pair and looked at me closely.
"It works!" she cried in triumph. "I didn't believe it but it really works!"
She held me up in the air and stretched me out. I could only see her when my face was pointed towards her. I seemed to be seeing from the front of the gusset. I couldn't understand what had happened. Was it an illusion? Had she hypnotised me? If it was an illusion it was reality for me.
"Can you hear me, Joss?"
I could, but I couldn't reply. Panties have no voice.
With considerable effort she bundled her skirt and petticoats to expose her legs. She put her legs in me and eased me up her legs. They were nice legs, very nice legs. As I was pulled up, the floor receded beneath me. Her stockings seemed to grab for me as I passed but then came her bare thighs outlined by her suspenders. Finally she settled me around her cheeks and her black bush tickled my inside. She dropped her skirt and petticoats and stood up.
My view was almost straight down between her legs. Until she moved I was in almost total darkness. As she walked around the room light entered under her skirt and I caught glimpses of her shoes, her ankles and her legs as the petticoats slithered around them. So close, their sound was overwhelming. Her natural scent was stronger than any I had experienced before. I began to appreciate just how close I was to being part of Miranda. My whole body was next to her skin. My senses were surrounded by her. I could feel her! Her every tiny movement seemed to shake my whole being.
Then she started to dance! I could barely stand the strength of the sensations piling in upon me. I moved as she moved. I stretched as she stretched. I saw more and more of those beautiful legs and felt every move they made. Inside me I was being tickled beyond endurance. When she stopped and stood still her petticoats settled into silence around her. I was in warm darkness again. I heard her voice as if from a great distance.
"Can you do anything, Joss?" she asked "Can you move?"
I explored the sensations that I was receiving. I could feel her legs, her cheeks, and the warmth of her skin. I could smell her natural scent. Experimentally I tried my limbs. They moved!
"Yes!" came a cry from above me. "I felt that! Try harder!"
My arms seemed to be holding her legs; my legs were tucked up behind me. I leant backwards and the back of my head entered her. I pushed backwards and pulled my legs towards me. My legs slid into the crack between her cheeks as my ears were covered by her warm lips. I exerted myself and gulped as my face creased itself into her.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she shouted.
Her hand pressed in through the layers in front of me. She pushed me deep inside her and her fingers stretched me. Then I was dampened by her warm emissions. She pulled me out; shoved me in; pulled me out...
She seemed insatiable. I wriggled as much as I could. I tried my best to help her. I held her cheeks tightly. I pulled in as she pushed. Finally she sat down. I was soaked through and through and felt stretched all over. I had enjoyed every second of my life as her panties yet... my role seemed so passive. I hadn't had much input into the experience that had so moved both of us. Being an attractive woman's panties was a nice fantasy but the reality was humbling. She controlled everything. She used me. She wore me.
I began to get slightly worried. I was a thing that belonged to her - a silky beautiful thing but still a thing. Any one pair of panties was not likely to be worn more than once a week. What would happen to me for the rest of the week? I could be taken off, thrown in a laundry basket for days and then washed. Those worries were not urgent while I was still held in shape by her body, deprived of any other sensation by the layers of petticoats around me, but my concern was growing.
Then the light broke in as she lifted her skirt. She pulled me down and off. Now my worries looked immediate! She held me up and asked:
"How was that, Joss? Did you like being my panties?"
I still couldn't reply as she spread me over the back of a chair. I was facing her, so I saw her don her original panties. Then I sighed as she dropped her skirts covering the legs that I'd recently been so intimate with. I had a real sense of loss - loss of intimacy, loss of sensation, loss of comfort. I'd been designed to hold and to caress a woman and now I was just an empty shell.
She walked over and looked at me closely.
"Well, Joss? How did you like my experiment?"
I shook my head. As a pair of panties I couldn't answer her could I?
"Don't shake your head. Give me a proper answer."
She'd seen me shake my head!
I tried to open my mouth. It worked!
"Er..." I said "I can talk?"
"Yes, you can talk. Why not? You are yourself again."
I was? I moved my fingers and toes. They were back. The relief was fantastic. I wouldn't be banished to a pile of dirty laundry or whirled in a washing machine! I stood up gingerly and then gasped in horror. I was stark naked! I covered myself with my hands.
"It's a bit late for modesty, Joss." smiled Miranda. "Now, how about answering my question?"
"It was different. I liked being that close to you but I couldn't do much. I'd have liked more participation but even so I'll remember the experience and you for a long time. Did it really happen?"
"Yes. It really happened." Miranda smiled. I wasn't sure about that smile. What else might happen?
She continued "I think that you've now earned the right to make love tonight. I didn't expect the experiment to work. It did. You helped and did what you could. Now you are due a reward." She took my hand and led me off to her bedroom. Her skirt whipped round my naked legs as we went. Later they whipped round more than my legs.
We made love over and over again that night. Nearly every time she was on top. She removed her bustier with a sigh of relief as her breasts swung freely. She didn't shed her skirt or petticoats. She used to add to our enjoyment. She hid behind them; hid me under them, wrapped me in them; caressed me with them and finally lashed me with them as she reached her ultimate climax.
The next morning I woke to find her empty clothes tightly swathed around me. I had to struggle hard to get free enough to get off the bed. They seemed almost alive and determined to hang on to me. I could hear noises from the kitchen so I went to investigate. I hid my nakedness by holding her skirt to me. It moulded itself around my body and kept sliding up as if to cover my face. I had to push it down. As I entered the kitchen I saw her dressed in her 'Antique dealer's' uniform. When she saw me she laughed.
"Can't you escape the spell of that skirt?" she asked. "Your clothes are on the settee."
I retreated in confusion. There were my clothes, neatly laid out on the ordinary looking settee. I tried to shed the skirt. I released myself from it with difficulty. It seemed to stick to my hands and clutch at my body. Eventually I threw it off and dressed in my own clothes. Miranda walked in from the kitchen carrying breakfast for the two of us.
"You managed it then." she stated "I put an attraction spell on my clothes last night. It should have nearly worn off by now."
"What do you mean 'an attraction spell'?"
"Haven't you realised by now that I'm a witch? And a skilled one, though I say it myself," she said seriously.
I nodded. I believed her. After last night I had no choice but to believe her. If she could turn me into a pair of her panties it would be simple to produce an 'attraction spell'.
"What does an attraction spell do?" I asked.
"Well the one I used last night had two purposes. I made it over my skirt and petticoats to attract you - and only you - to them and to me who was wearing them; and to attract them to you so that they would cling to you at every opportunity."
"They nearly tripped me up when we were dancing."
"I know. I had to modify the spell slightly or they might have wrapped so tightly around you that you'd have found movement impossible. That might have been embarrassing in front of the Chamber of Commerce. They protested so I let them have you after I'd finished with you last night. When I left they were making you squirm with pleasure. You vanished under my skirt and petticoats. They wrapped you up completely and were massaging you with rhythmical contractions. From the muffled noises I heard you make during the night I think that they enjoyed you."
"What do you mean –'they protested' - clothes can't talk. I couldn't talk when I was your panties..." I said and as I stopped I realised that I'd admitted that I'd been her panties.
That was ridiculous! I might have dreamed that I was her panties. I might have been hypnotised to think I was her panties. I couldn't really have been her panties. That was impossible, wasn't it?
She answered both questions.
"Well, Joss, whenever I put a spell on inanimate objects, such as my skirt last night, that spell takes part of me with it. So the skirt and petticoats had some of me in them. That 'me' can communicate to the rest of me. It's easier when we're in close contact especially clothing that I'm wearing or have recently worn. So I was aware of what my skirt and petticoats were doing, even when 'they' made love to you after I left last night. I felt what they felt. I was enjoying you from a bed in another room. But it didn't work when I turned you into my panties. I felt you but I couldn't communicate with you. You were the panties. You were giving them life, not me."
"So I really was your panties?" I asked incredulously "It wasn't an illusion?"
"Yes. You really were my panties... " She stopped and corrected herself "No. That's not quite right. You were a copy of my panties. My panties still existed. You changed into a copy of them. The copy was so accurate that I couldn't tell them apart - until you moved. That was the difference. You could move independently and do things to me that my panties could never do.
Oh yes - I could put a spell on them to make them move but it would be me making them move. It would be a different version of playing with myself. But you as my panties - that was great. I controlled you. I owned you. I wore you. Yet you could move and help me to a climax. You were nearly part of me and still yourself."
I was re-living the experience as she spoke. It made me aroused again. There was one thing I still wanted to know.
"Why did you use the settee? If you are such a skilled witch surely you didn't need its mechanical help?"
"Don't underestimate that settee. It does other things as well. It is computer controlled and full of sensors. That's how the hand gagged you so accurately. The advantage to me is that it doesn't use any witch energy at all. Every time I make a spell it takes effort. Although I have considerable powers I can only use a certain amount of energy during one day. The transformation spell I had never done before. I didn't know how much effort I would need..."