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Greenhouse Three	By : MuffyTaj Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 4761 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Greenhouse Three
Author's Note: I must give all who read this due warning, as last time I posted this sort of fiction somewhere I made the rather dreadful mistake of forgetting a warning. So here it is:
This is not a serious fiction. NOT! This story is meant to be MSTed (let me know if you do), and is so written. It is amusing, and good for showing to your poor, unsuspecting friends, but it is NOT meant to be taken seriously. Some of the material in it may disturb some viewers, indeed, a great majority of them. It is my fault, purely, for having such a sick mind, and I do not agree with ANY of the characterisation. This is for the poor people who have nothing to MST, and for the stout of heart and strong of stomach.
Now that's out of the way, onto the story (those of you who are left):
Professor Sprout had always been known as a lover of nature. Though to what extent, people never really knew. I mean, they knew why there were so many carrots that never made it to the kitchen, but they never saw the more sinister side of her and her relationship with plants. They never even dreamt of it, of the sickness, the pure perversity of her nature. But, as little boys and girls soon learn, just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't out there—
I suppose that you would like to see the worst "encounter" she had, no? Well I'm not telling, it's too sick, even for me. I'll take you to the—12th worst one. It was, as any horror writer can tell you, a dark and stormy day, with the clouds scurrying across the sun, blotting it out and making all the plants fold their leaves in despair of sunlight and a chance to photosynthesise in order to turn the energy from the sun into glucose so that they can, in turn, use this in order to gain more leaves with which to—I'm sorry. Yes. Plants.
Anyway, all the plants had retired, in hopes of the morrow being better. Which meant that poor Sprout was left without any friends to play with. The carrots having been used up and her having an aversion to mechanical objects, Sprout was up the creek without a paddle. Literally, as her own one had broken just the other day when the youngest "recruit" had been a tad over-eager.
"Oh well." She sighed, "Might as well get on with my work. No play-time for me."
She put on her earmuffs and went about re-potting her new brood of Mandrakes, all asleep due to the extreme darkness. Or at least she thought they were asleep—
Perhaps it would be best if I explained something here. You see, many people think that fertiliser works because it adds extra nutrients to the soil. And, in the Muggle world, it does. But in the Wizarding world, things work a little differently. There is a good reason that Sprout keeps all the fertiliser she has locked up in a little room, and gives out small pellets one at a time, after a plant has performed particularly well, and she wants them to repeat it immediately. A sort of plant Viagra, if you will.
So there she was, re-potting the Mandrakes, when she thought she heard something coming from "The Room' (no puns intended) so she put down her Mandrake (named Fred) and opened the door to check. Nothing.
"Huh. Must be hearing things." She muttered, though how she managed to hear anything through her earmuffs I have no idea — ask the actors of the second Harry Potter movie.
That was when Fred made his move.
Diving into "The Room', he managed to consume HALF A BAG of poo before he was grabbed by Sprout and thrown out.
Twitch. Twitch. Twitch.
"Oh my God, NO!" She screamed, when she realised that she had been too late.
"You're my bitch now!" Fred growled, before pouncing onto her and ripping off all her clothes, growing in size by about 20 feet, until he towered above the small woman. "Let's open you up—" he leered, sticking his roots into her wet mound and prising it open, before smiling at the horny professor. "Ooooh," he moaned, "you need to be weeded!"
Even a masochist like Sprout could not possibly have imagined what he meant by that. So when he reached over, and started plucking out every single hair in her greying triangle, it came as a complete shock. But it did not take long for her to soon be gasping and bucking in pleasure every time he wrenched out another pubic hair from her second lips, ripping off a bit of skin with each hair and some weird black stuff at the root and then popping it into his mouth. In fact, she was this close to exploding when he suddenly stopped.
"Don't—stop!" She gasped, wanting his roots near her twiddly-twitch.
"You've run out of hairs." He informed her, closely inspecting her dorrito of love.
"Oh—bugger."
"No problem, I have just the thing!" he proudly announced, ring ing into "The Room' and pulling out three small pellets of poop.
"What are you going to do with those?"
"Don't worry my love, you shall soon learn."
With that, Fred carefully took one of the pellets in his long and skilled root fingers and ate it, before pressing the second one into Sprout's willing mouth. The third one he inserted into her love machine, taking care to not push it in too deep.
"Watch out, here I come!" he screamed, before delving into her no-longer-furry fanny.
Once she had been utterly spent, she finally hit him over the head with her wand, and made him shrink back to size, before chucking him into a pool of water, in a vain hope to wash off the various stains all over his body. Oh well, no one would notice, all the Mandrakes where covered with funny stains — and now the newest one had been christened.
"Oh—oh—OH!" There was the sound of someone quickly coming to orgasm. There was only one, one-minute-man at Hogwarts that Sprout knew of.
"Snape—"
A guilty rustle and out stepped a figure.
"No professor."
"NEVILLE?"
"Yes professor."
"W-what?"
"Well, I came to—declare my love, professor. And I wasn't sure, so I hid. But then when I saw you and Fred together, I knew. I knew that my love would last forever. Oh Fred, I LOVE YOU!"
And with that, Neville cast himself into the newly-awoken Fred's arms, and Sprout had the good sense to retire, and search for a new fuck-toy (which she later found in the willing arms of her old lover Fang, and is now busy getting some sweet lovin' from animals AND plants, "the best of both words" as she would put it herself).
As she left the greenhouse, she noticed that the sun had started to shine through the clouds. As she watched the one ray widen until the whole greenhouse was bathed in the warm and rich glow of sunlight she said something profound, which I can't think of right now so fuck off.
The End.
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Greenhouse Three