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What if Ginny is the only girl at Hogwarts?	By : Kujira Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 4145 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
CH.13 - Ginny's special bath
The following evening, the anticipation in the Gryffindor common room was a physical force, thick and electric. The fire seemed to burn hotter, the shadows to dance more wildly. Boys jostled for the best spots on the floor and sofas, their eyes fixed on the enchanted tapestry, which remained blank but seemed to hum with potential. The five architects of the spectacle stood at the center of it all, receiving nods of approval and slaps on the back. They were kings tonight.
Then, the image flickered to life.
A collective gasp, followed by a wave of hushed, incredulous laughter, swept the room. The bathtub was not filled with clear, steaming water. It was filled to the brim with a thick, opaque, pearlescent liquid that shimmered under the bathroom’s magical lights. It was unmistakably, gloriously, a tub full of semen.
Ginny stepped into the frame, already in her towel, her routine unchanged. She stopped dead, her eyes widening in shock at the sight of her transformed bath. Her hand flew to her mouth. She looked around, confused, as if expecting someone to jump out and explain the prank. Her eyes then fell to the floor, where a single piece of parchment lay.
She bent over, her towel gaping slightly to give the enraptured audience a breathtaking view of her cleavage, and picked it up. The camera charm, cleverly placed, zoomed in on the note. Harry’s messy scrawl was clearly visible: This bathtub contains cum from the Gryffindor boys. Enjoy your bath and don't get pregnant! -H
A hundred hearts seemed to skip a beat. What would she do? Scream? Run? Summon a prefect?
Instead, a slow, shy smile spread across Ginny’s face. It was a smile of pure, unadulterated delight. She bit her lower lip, a gesture they now recognized as her tell for being intensely aroused. She looked around one more time, a performative check for an audience she believed wasn't there, then let her towel drop to the floor.
A roar of approval erupted in the common room. Boys punched the air, whistled, and groaned. They were witnessing not just her nudity, but her willing acceptance of their collective defilement.
“That’s our cum, Weasley!” a seventh-year shouted, his voice raw with lust.
“Get in there, you filthy slut!”
“Look at her, she loves it!”
Harry, caught up in the frenzy, grinned and yelled, “It’s all for you, Ginny!” Ron, his face flushed with a mixture of brotherly shame and fierce pride, joined in, “Yeah, take it all!”
Ginny, hearing nothing but the echo of her own excitement in the cavernous bathroom, stepped to the edge of the tub. She dipped a toe in, then her foot, shuddering as the warm, viscous fluid enveloped her skin. With a look of profound bliss, she slowly lowered her entire body into the tub, disappearing beneath the surface of cum.
The common room fell silent again, a hundred pairs of eyes straining to see through the milky depths.
Then, she surfaced, gasping, her hair and face dripping with their combined essence. She laughed, a low, throaty, joyous sound that sent shivers through every boy watching. She wasn't just tolerating it; she was revelling in it.
What she did next surpassed their wildest fantasies. Instead of just bathing, she took a deep breath and dove back under. They watched, utterly spellbound, as her form, blurred by the fluid, moved beneath the surface. She stayed under for an impossibly long time.
When she surfaced again, she was grinning. She leaned back against the edge of the tub, and in full view of her hidden audience, she brought her hands between her legs. She used her fingers to spread her pussy lips wide open, a silent invitation for the semen to flood into the deepest part of her vagina, to coat her cervix, to swim toward her unfertilized eggs.
The common room exploded. The voyeuristic thrill curdled into something darker, more possessive, and infinitely more primal.
“She’s trying to get pregnant!”
“My cum’s in there! It could be mine!”
“No, mine! I shot a huge load for her!”
“Look at her, she wants all our babies!”
“Gryffindor’s broodmare!”
The fantasy was no longer just about watching. It was about claiming, about impregnation. They discussed it with a shocking seriousness amidst the crude shouts, arguing over whose sperm was strongest, who would be the lucky one to plant a child in her fertile womb. They watched her rub the cum into her skin, over her breasts, across her stomach, as if anointing herself with their essence.
__
The enchanted tapestry in the Gryffindor common room was no longer just a screen; it was a window into a depraved paradise, and every Gryffindor boy had a front-row seat. The crystal clarity of the magical orbs, combined with the transparent walls of the massive tub, granted them a view so intimate it felt like they were floating in the semen alongside her.
Harry, his face a mask of intense concentration and dark pleasure, subtly manipulated the remote control for the orbs. The view zoomed in with cinematic precision, panning slowly over Ginny’s body as she luxuriated in their collective offering. The image focused on her huge, perfect breasts, the pearlescent cum sluicing over the curves, beading on her stiff, pink nipples. It drifted lower, capturing the tight, smooth plane of her stomach before hovering with obscene clarity on her pussy, the neat thatch of red hair dark and wet, the lips glistening.
As they watched, Ginny began to move. Her hands, slick with cum, started to roam her own body. She cupped her breasts, massaging the semen into them, pinching her own nipples with a soft sigh that was perfectly captured by the orbs’ audio charm.
The reaction in the common room was immediate and raucous.
“Look at the slut, playing with herself in our jizz!” a burly sixth-year roared with laughter.
“She thinks she’s so hot, bathing in it,” another jeered, though his hand was frantically working the bulge in his trousers.
“That’s right, Weasley, rub it in! You love it, don’t you, you filthy cumdump!”
The insults flew, crude and loud, each one feeding the collective excitement. They weren’t insults of hatred, but of dark, possessive worship. To call her names was to claim a part of her degradation, to participate actively in the spectacle.
Then, she did something that made the entire room fall silent for a split second before erupting into a frenzy. She scooped a handful of the thick, warm fluid and, looking directly at the spot where the primary orb was invisibly hovering—a complete accident that felt like deliberate eye contact—brought it to her lips. She opened her mouth and let the cum pour in, swallowing it with a deliberate, throaty gulp.
“SHE DRANK IT!” someone screamed, his voice cracking with hysterical excitement.
“Merlin, she’s drinking our load!”
“Chug it, you whore! Chug it all!”
The shouts were a chaotic choir of arousal and degradation. They watched, mesmerized, as their essence, the physical proof of their lust for her, flowed down her throat.
The orbs, under Harry’s expert guidance, followed the action relentlessly. The view dove beneath the surface of the cum-bath, giving them a stunning, blurred shot of semen swirling as her fingers worked between her legs, pushing the fluid deep inside her pussy. The camera then focused on her other hand as it moved behind her, a single finger, slick and white, tracing the rim of her ass before slowly pressing inside, allowing the cum to fill that tight, forbidden channel as well.
Ginny was lost in a world of sensation. She could feel the cum everywhere—coating her skin, inside her mouth, filling her most intimate holes. In her mind, she pictured it not as a singular fluid, but as a million individual swimmers, a legion of Gryffindor boys represented in microscopic form, all surging into her depths, swarming around her eggs in a desperate, competitive race to claim her, to impregnate her. The fantasy was overpowering.
Her breathing became ragged, her movements more frantic. Her back arched, pressing her breasts against the surface of the bath. Her hips bucked against her own hand, and a series of low, wanton moans escaped her lips, each one perfectly audible in the silent, tense common room.
Then it hit her. Her eyes shot open, wide and unseeing, and a raw, guttural cry was torn from her throat as a violent orgasm wracked her body. She shuddered violently, the waves of pleasure making her toes curl and her fingers dig into her own thighs.
The common room responded not with silence, but with a thunderous, unified roar of approval. They cheered, they whistled, they stamped their feet on the floor. It was a roar of triumph, as if their Quidditch team had just caught the Snitch. They had witnessed her ultimate surrender, her complete and total corruption by their combined will and essence.
As Ginny lay panting and spent in the tub, a blissful, sated smile on her cum-smeared face, the boys in the common room began to laugh and clap each other on the back, their own arousal at a fever pitch. The show was over, but the fantasy was just beginning. They had not just watched her; they had collectively fucked her, filled her, and brought her to a climax from across the castle.
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- 14
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What if Ginny is the only girl at Hogwarts?