Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Confession by Hermione G.	By : Scarlett_Pimpernal Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 45323 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: DISCLAIMER: This project is based on and features characters and content that I do not own, nor is the content monetized by me. 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
- 15
- 16
- 17
Year Seven: Snagglepussy
My delicious avatar, flirting with disaster, getting familiar with a familiar

Our mission to infiltrate the Ministry of Magic in order to obtain a certain cursed necklace as part of our quest to destroy our nemesis included, in fact, several incursions rather than a single event. One such incursion (and its sequel) provided one of the most harrowing of my school-era sexual escapades. Not only did is allowing me to adopt one of my most favorite sexual personae, but it also brought me face-to-face with our Enemy himself.
Stefanie Schnäggle was a perfect example of the so-called ‘Next Wave,’ those whose adolescence coincided with the first rise and fall of TMR. They had witnessed the drama, while not necessarily participating in it. And so, they were young adults and professionals, just beginning to make their way in the world as practicing witches and wizards, factotums, ministry bureaucrats, etc., when TMR effected his return. Like many of the next generation followers of TMR, Schnäggle was cursed with a typically Wizard-esque, alliterative name. Like many, she had studied as a member of a certain house (associated with serpents) at our alma mater. Like many, she had matriculated into a role in the Ministry – in her case as a sort of junior executive specializing in mundane affairs with a focus on popular culture.
Unlike most Wizards and Witches who seemed to exist in a sort of Gothic-Victorian fashion time warp, Stefanie was quite a-la-mode, with the latest west end, designer fashions. And among a community not necessarily known for the comeliness of its members, she stood out starkly. Because she worked in the department of Mr. W, we were familiar with the location of her office and so, she became the target for our first incursion.
Stefanie Schnäggle was without a doubt, one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. A mane of midnight black hair crowned exquisite features, eyes of grey, and, if that were not enough, she possessed a simply smoking hot body which reminded me of an exotic sports car. Indeed, Stefanie Schnäggle was simply the personification of an Aston Martin: entirely British, horribly expensive and tuned for the highest levels of performance. To behold Herr Schnäggle is to desire to fuck Herr Schnäggle.
I have confessed my fascination with other female bodies, so it is perhaps not without ulterior motive that I targeted this witch for our incognito. In that our goal was simply access the Ministry, all things were considered equal. I have also described how my general modus operendi is to operate in the background, wallflower-like, however, this was a reckless exception to that rule that nearly led to my downfall.
On the day that my fate intertwined with that of Stefanie Schnäggle, she was clothed in a shimmering skirt of dark green silk with a subtle pattern that looked like ropes but were revealed to be snakes upon closer examination (in homage to her house at school). The length of the skirt was perfectly executed to show off her amazing legs to maximum impact without being tawdry. Her blouse, crisp, white, and fashionably cut was strategically unbuttoned to allow a determined viewer to catch a glimpse of dark green laced brassiere if they were fortunate enough to have a favorable point of vantage. Her hair was drawn back in a simple ponytail that bordered on severe but showcased the beauty of her face. She oozed confidence as she stepped out of her detached flat in Hempstead in spiked-inch heels that put her over six feet in statuesque height. Hidden in the verdure nearby, it was easy to stun her with a spell and we quickly unlocked the door and carried her back inside.
Working quickly, I snipped several hairs and ordered the boys strip the clothes from her body, reasoning that it would be easier to assume her current outfit rather than take time to select a new one from her closet. Our plot included the idea of placing her in her bed at the conclusion of the mission and using a memory charm to simply make the witch believe she had overslept. I headed to the WC. In the bathroom, where I stripped down and mixed the hairs into my latest, improved batch of P-Juice. Gulping down the stuff, I braced myself for the now familiar wave of nausea. Perhaps every flat-chested girl’s dream or fantasy to magically behold their meagre mounds sprout into full, heavy, fleshy globes of desire. Such is the fantasy that I experienced as my body transformed into that of Stefanie. Under the thrall of the potion, my little tits began to swell and bulge outward, becoming larger and larger before my wondering eyes.
“Oh, my.”
The prim, little pink nipples, likewise expanded - small areoles becoming large rosy disks as the points thickened and protruded outward. The missile-like boobs seemed to stare back at me from the mirror. My hands naturally rose to clasp the incredible monuments of eroticism. I squeezed and pinched the nipples, sending a thrill from top to toe of the magnificent female frame.
Perhaps just as striking as the landscape of flesh was a particular decoration that embellished the striking body. Twisting and wrapping around the long, muscular thigh was the fine depiction of a snake. Disappearing in her nether regions, it emerged from the dark, tightly shaped patch of pubes, encircling her navel, with its wedge-shaped head coming to rest just below the valley of her magnificent bosom. Normally, I despise tattoos, but I had to admit that this was a true work of art, complimenting, accentuating, enlivening the body upon which it had been inscribed by what was obviously a master’s hand.
When the transformation was complete, the adolescent duckling had become a womanly swan. I knew Stefanie was a beautiful, statuesque creature, but I had no idea how fab her body truly was. The reader will have noted, surely, my obsession with bodies male and female. And as I behold her body - my body - there and felt it with her large hands, an almost overwhelming wave of arousal broke over me. A knock on the door stirred me from my trance and a wad of her fine, silky clothing was handed to me through the doorway.
As I parsed and then began to slip into her outfit, beginning with the hideously fine lacey black thong panties and fitted the gorgeous bosom into to the lacey cups, I could not help but imagine my friends undressing this immaculate body, revealing bit by bit the sublime contours of her flesh, a reverse of the transformation that I had just undergone. Our stratagem called for them to babysit this body while I conduced a reconnaissance in her guise. What would my friend and putative boyfriend do alone with this naked body? I was forced to postpone consideration of this question; I had more pressing business. I donned her clothes as quickly as possible and recreated the ponytail and then rejoined my comrades, trying to avoid gaping at the naked inert frame on the floor.
“Alright,” I said, hoping to dispel the tension. “This is awkward.”
“Blimey, remarked R. “You look…”
“Yeah, fucking amazing, I know. Try not to drool.” Doing my best to avoid eye contact with my confederates, I paced back-and-forth to adjust to her gait and heels as they gawked.
“You could at least cover the poor woman,” I remarked. Embarrassed, R fetched a blanket and spread it over the frozen witch. Then, without a further word, I slipped out and on my way to my mission.
“Alright,” I said, gathering my wits, I’d best be off. Can I trust you two alone with her?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.”
However, I was far from convinced. Over time I became convinced that they had masturbated all over that gorgeous body. My husband admitted as much to me eventually. Nor or could I blame him at all. Who could have resisted such an opportunity? For his part, he confessed to pulling down his pants and placing himself on top of her body, rubbing his erection against her belly and the snake tattoo. Before wedging it, planting into that deep cleavage, and fucking her there. Until it squirted and spurted all over her neck. Then he wiped up and went into the kitchen to allow HP to have his way with her inert frame.
I cabbed over the Ministry and then walked that last couple of blocks. I was immediately struck by the primal power of the truly beautiful woman. Everywhere, heads turned as I cruised into their periphery and tracked along as I walked. I felt like a literal magnet, so powerful was the pull I had on the attention of both men and women on the street.
Own it, I told myself, understanding on an innate level the pride and performance expected of such a compelling individual. Avoiding eye contact, I floated along, a goddess among mortals and thus easily effected passage into the gleaming, vaulted hall of the Ministry. I made my way to the Muggle Affairs department and thence to the office of S. Schnäggle.
So far, so good.
I composed myself and then quickly took stock of the office. As I mentioned, being à la mode, Schnäggle had her finger on the pulse of contemporary fashion. Style books and magazines crammed the shelves. Even more interesting was the volume of erotica and ‘how to’ manuals focused on the romantic endeavors of the mundane population. More interesting still were the dildoes and vibrators in the bottom drawer of her desk. It seemed that Miss Schnäggle and me were kindred spirits at least when it came to kink. I was startled, however, when, after a brief knock, the office door opened and a svelte, pixie-ish blonde squirted into the room.
“Hey, there,” she said. “You’re late.”
“Oh, yeah, overslept,” I mumbled, trying to gather myself.
She he stepped close – too close for a mere friend or co-worker.
“You look good enough to eat,” she said.
I just smiled as she put her hands on me.
A little office romance, then?
“I’m so excited about tonight, I can hardly stand it. Everyone’s saying that he will be there!”
“Really?”
“I’d suggest a quickie, but Uxbridge wants to see us.”
Uxbridge, damn - the very target of our mission.
“Maybe after?”
“You’re naughty.”
Uxbridge…
It suddenly is me that the last thing I needed as a fledgling spy in an in unfamiliar guise was to test my act before the principal. I tried to relax as we made our way to that bitch’s office. The stealthy, lustful glances that followed me, however, bolstered my confidence. Accordingly, I simply tried to shift my attention to my borrowed body and senses itself, becoming animalistic as it were. Two other frightfully attractive young witches and a clearly queer young wizard of androgynous beauty hovered outside her office. We knocked and entered the room of the bureaucrat, cloyingly pink everywhere, hung with her atrocious knick-knacks. The loathsome creature rose and greeted us in her oh-so-self-important manner.
“Tonight is a momentous occasion,” she began, pacing before us. “You are among the youngest representatives of the Ministry that we have seen fit to include. You should feel quite humbled.”
“Indeed, yes, Madam,” replied the queer brown-noser.
She continued in this vein, highlighting the importance of proper decorum, and representing the Ministry in the company of the many distinguished witches and wizards that will be in attendance. It was clear that some sort of important fête was in store – one that seemed exclusively intended for the partitioners of the darker arts.
“Oh, Miss Schnäggle, would you remain for a moment,” said the monstrous bureaucrat as we were dismissed. “Have a seat.”
Damn…
“Stefanie…” she said, setting herself next to me and putting her hand on my knee. “Have you considered what we spoke of at our last meeting?”
I felt my whole being cringe, though the self-consumed bitch seemed not to have noticed. I wanted more than anything to punching her. Magic be damned; nothing short of a physical assault would have satisfied. Instead, having been caught flat footed, I simply answered dutifully, “Of course, Madam.”
“Call me Delores!” she said, “how many times must I tell you?!”
The flirtation seemed to stretch on for an eternity. She urged I wear something slinky and skimpy to “show off my charms,” and I, perforce, agreed. Finally, feeling slimy, I was able to extricate myself from her company. As I returned to my office yet again, I began to suspect, that a pattern was emerging and that the so-called Dark Lord wasn’t much interested in cultivating talent: He was more interested in pussy.
The cute blonde, whose name turned out to be Tiff was waiting for me in my office.
“What did Uxbridge want?”
“To get under my skirt,” I confessed.
She laughed.
“Thanks for the sympathy.”
“I’m sorry…!,” she said attempting to recover. “But it’s your fault for being so damn hot.” She stepped in and put her hands on me once again. I made bold to lean down and kiss her. The sexual tensions had been rising in me since I stepped out in Stefanie’s body and the release of some deep tonguing proved quite beneficial. We really got into it for several minutes while I leaned into Stefanie’s body, grabbing hold of Tiff’s ass, and grinding against her thigh, testing the sensitivity of an unfamiliar clitty. Stefanie’s engine was just beginning to purr, but I realized I had a mission to attend to. I pulled away, protesting that I needed to get some work done.
“You’re a fucking tease.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“You bet you will. See you tonight.”
Unfortunately, my time would have been better spent fucking Tiff with one of the monster strap-ons in Stefanie’s office. My spying efforts were unable to uncover any more information for our mission and I returned to the cottage somewhat deflated, my imagination turning to the mysterious party taking place that evening. The closer I got to the cottage, the greater grew my resolve to attend the mysterious party. I admit, I downplayed the scope of the thing, saying instead that Stefanie had been invited to a little witchy soirée and it might turn up some valuable information if I attended. R and H resigned themselves to the plan and, who knows, perhaps took greater advantage of Stefanie that evening while I was away.
I retreated to Stefanie’s boudoir to unwind and prepare for the evening. Was I really going to go through with it? Ever the curious animal, I was quite happy to go through her drawers and closets, finding her stashes of porn, her sex toys. Over the course of a long bath, I tried of several, becoming more and more acquainted with her fabulous body. Best of all, perhaps, I found her diary. I learned that she had been fucking Tiff for some time and gained some juicy tidbits for later. She was, however, mostly hetero, and the diary detailed her sexual exploits with various gents. Interestingly, she preferred to be porked by non-magical folk. She had a special fondness for taking it up the ass, bless her, the sexy beast.
After a long perusal of her wardrobe and bearing in mind the admonishment of Uxbridge to select something slinky and sexy, I found the backless dress in emerald green that was hardly more than a strip of cloth. Slit up to the waist, plunging down to the ass in back and offering a generous view of side-boob, the garment left just enough to the imagination to risk inducing a riot. She had lots of lovely, expensive lingerie, but the backless frock would not allow any. Instead, I was able to select some pricey heels. Of course, I would not be able to simply walk out of the place in such skimpy fare without arousing great indignation and big questions from the boys. So, I chose some innocuous clothes, stuffed the little shift and shoes in a bag and threw on Stefanie’s classic trench coat. I bade them farewell and off I went toward a sinister soirée of dark wizardry.
I found a pub near the destination and changed clothes in the loo, As I regarded my unfamiliar, entirely bodacious, figure in the mirror, a sudden fit of anxiety hit me. Was I really going to go through with this? As I really going to place myself in a borrowed body right in the veritable belly of the beast?
I’m just a hot chippy out for a good time, I told myself. If I simply focused on the fun rather than the nefarious characters or ideology, then, things would simply unfold, I reasoned. And so, I was able to convince myself to carry on with the reckless exploit.
The evening’s destination was nestled amid the blocks of ancient, historic properties of London. I ascended the steps to the sprawling building under the cool gaze of a legion of gargoyles.
You’d have to be made of stone to avoid drooling at the sight of this woman, I thought.
Relinquishing my borrowed trench coat to the wizened old house elf in the vaulted foyer, Tiff suddenly appeared.
“Blimey, you’re hot enough to combust.”
“You’re no slouch yourself,” I replied, truthfully. Her daintier figure was sheathed in black lace: naughty yet nice.
In the foyer, we have the unpleasant luck to encounter the foul bitch Uxbridge who had usurped the leadership of our school. Her repulsive figure was unmistakable even behind the pink-tinted metallic mask: ten pounds of grannie a five-pound sack. My gorge rose as she sidled up to us and surveyed me up and down.
“Good, evening, ladies,” she oozed.
We replied and made some desultory chit-chat before Tiff cleverly took my arm and said, “would you please excuse us, there is someone I especially want to introduce to Stef.” And so, we squirted away from the pink predator.
“Well done, you,” I whispered as we squirted through the throng.
“Yes, you owe me.”
“My, my,” I said as the splendor of the main ballroom unfolded. The dark wizardry assembled there actually appeared rather fashionable - if, or course, antiquated. Whereas “good” wizards tend to be absolute fashion accidents, the not-so-good variety show some flair or sartorial splendor now and again. Many were clothed in borderline fetish-wear and some in some tasteful semi-high fusion. My own attire represented the far end of skimp as far as I could tell. No matter.
I’m just a hot chippy out for a good time.
We skirted the ballroom to find a large banquet chamber with a roaring fire and tables of food and drink. We helped ourselves while we surveyed the crowd, growing more and more familiar with the surroundings. Two shots of absinthe went straight to my head.
“Let’s dance,” said Tiff, taking me by the hand and leading me toward the thumping music. My heart skipped a beat, however, when we came upon the all-too-familiar figure of my potions master cum sex tutor.
“Miss Schnäggle, I presume. Class of 2000 unless I mistake.”
“Quite right, Professor.”
Had he fucked her? I had not, I realized, scanned all his volumes. And it was entirely possible that he had included Stefanie in his long list of conquests.
“My but we have blossomed over the years.”
“Yes, a late bloomer.”
Luckily, Tiff kept pulling me onto the dance floor, but I could not help a backward glance. I could have him, right now, I thought, in the gorgeous body of Stefanie. But I pushed the thought out of my mind, losing myself, instead in the flashing grey eyes and slinky, lace-covered curves of Tiff. We began to dance.
I’m just a hot chippy out for a good time.
We danced and drank, and I admit I found myself quite swept away by the hedonism and evil hanging in the air. I grew grateful for the skimpy costume as I became hotter and hotter and damp with sweat. Indeed, a collective excitement seemed to be ratcheting up to a feverish pitch as the evening wore on until several clocks chimed midnight and a cry rose, ‘The witching hour is upon us!’ The air whipped up suddenly into a flurry, the candles fall snuffed out under a palpable surge of magical energy in the center of the dance floor that pushed us all the periphery of the room. When they suddenly flared back to life, a cloaked figure stood there in the hushed room, a massive constrictor snake draped over his shoulders. He slowly pulled back the hood and for the first time, I saw the face of our enemy, the legendary asshole that had fucked up all our lives.
The popular media version of the villain has painted him as a bald snake-faced creep. The real TMR, however, was far too vain to present himself in such a manner. He was actually quite strikingly handsome in person, with dark hair and black flashing eyes. His one concession to Wizard fashion seemed to be his creepy long fingernails.
He surveyed the room, slowly, apparently quite pleased with the turnout. A hubbub of excitement bubbled up through the room. Several of the usual suspects, those confident of their closeness to the nexus of power darted in and prostrated themselves at his feet – even kissing the patent leather of his shoes. Among the super sycophants groveled the pink monstrosity Uxbridge, the beastly Fenris Greyback, the smarmy Wormtail, the twisted lesbian Bellatrix Lestrange and her sister along with her husband, the father of my nemesis, Lucious Malfoy, himself.
The rest of the throng, as one, fell to our knees, reach out to touch the arch fiend.
He uttered an odd, screechy laugh and bade everyone to rise.
“My children,” he said. “I will walk among you!”
And so, trailing his senior cronies, he began to circle the crowd. As he passed, some nearest reached out to touch the hem of a garment. Others he reached out to touch as if offering a blessing like some sort of anti-Christian pontiff. More than one young witch swooned. As he got closer and closer, my heart sped into overdrive.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, I thought. The game’s up, he sees right through you!
Trapped in among the bodies, there was no place I could go. I would have to face the villain. My heart leaped into my throat as his eyes finally connected with mine. But it was only lust that glared back at me: confident, smiling lust, secure in the notion that any body here – male of female – belonged to him. A subtle smile teased the corner of his lips as he seemed catalogued my image. I was quite pleased to notice how his gaze lingered on the epic décolleté of Herr Schnäggle. This exchange occurred in a mere split second, after which he continued his journey.
Having inspected the troops, he mounted the main staircase, again trailing his crew. Then, standing on the landing above the dance floor, he began a long rambling speech – typical authoritarian fare. The dawn of a new age, victory was certain, those lucky enough to be in the room would march in the vanguard, blah, blah, blah, but it was catnip to the crowd of true believers. Then, having finished on a triumphant note, he waved and retreated into the rooms of the second floor.
After a long pause, the throng exploded in a buzz of chatter. Tiff, grasping my arm, gushed over the magnitude of the moment, reminding me that despite my mounting erotic attachment to her and the role I was playing, that my ‘date’ for the evening was indeed one of the bad guys. The realization inspired me to excuse myself and head for the ladies WC where I swallowed down another shot of P-potion, just to be safe.
On my way back to the ballroom, I was waylaid by a familiar figure, the striking Lucius Malfoy. He had cornered me in a dark colonnade lined with neo-classical statues.
“Miss Schnäggle,” said he. “How lovely to see you again.”
Damn, I thought. How the hell are they connected?
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry, it’s all quite exciting,” I vamped, trying to recover my wits.
“Yes, the presence of the Dark Lord can be quite powerful.”
He proceeded to monologue about the glorious future ahead and the opportunities for up-and-comers like me. However, the hand that lingered on my arm and the gaze on my tits suggested ulterior motive. Unfortunately, he seemed to know quite a bit about Stefanie’s position at the Ministry. He spoke of the need to purge undesirables from the Muggle Affairs department.
“Muggle Affairs, of course, will hold a great deal of import and power once our mission is accomplished. The sheep will need to be led. I will be a great opportunity for an ambitious young witch like yourself with the proper connections.”
I admit that I admire a slick customer, and oily as he was, Malfoy senior was a smooth operator. While dangling the carrot of advancement, he slid his hand around the small of my back slick with sweat. My body pressed against his and I felt the pressure of his crotch against my thigh. His hand slid under the fabric of the dress and snaked down into the crack of the ass of S. Schnäggle. Then, easy as pie, given the sweat and my state of excitement, his long middle finger he slipped into the cleft of my borrowed pussy, causing me to shiver with pleasure.
“You’re a naughty boy,” I whispered.
“Oh, you have no idea.”
“I have lots of ideas.”
“I fancy a woman with an active imagination.”
Then, just as our lips met, we were interrupted by the appearance of another member of the rogues’ gallery. Fenris stood there, clearing his throat to stir us from our amorous conjunction.
“The Dark Lord would see your lady friend,” he sneered to Malfoy. “Now,” he added.
Irate, and barely containing his rage, Malfoy stepped back, deferring to the beastly man.
“Of course,” he said regaining his composure.
“I look forward to continuing our conversation, Ms. Schnäggle.
“As do I.”
Fenris took me gently but firmly by the arm and steered me down the hall to a secondary staircase.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
“Um, um, I don’t believe we’ve met,” I ventured, not knowing what else to say. “I’m Stefanie Schnäggle.”
Leering at me, he introduced himself.
“Perhaps the Dark Lord has me confused with someone else? I’m just in middle management, after all.”
“No, he was quite specific,” he said. “Bring me the cooze in the green dress with the tits like missiles.”
“Right, lovely.”
“You’re a lucky girl.”
“No doubt.”
As we climbed the stairs, an attack of panic assailed me. Fenris, bestial, seemed to scent my fear. I am sure that I will not outlive the night, but be discovered as an imposter and tortured, displayed, torn to pieces as the host laughs. I have pushed things too far. I must tamp my fear down. I shift my thoughts: I am simply a mobile set of superlative erogenous zones, seeking pleasure randomly.
I’m just a hot chippy out for a good time.
Upstairs, my escort led me down a hall and into a salon and then a washroom where none other than Bellatrix Lestrange, partially unclothed snorting a line of coke from a hand mirror. Having shed her black lace dress, her pudgy frame was constrained by an ensemble of black lingerie including push-up brassiere and garter belt. She turned and greeted me like we were old friends.
“Ah, Stefanie, so nice to see you again, ready for some fun?!”
Of course, I answered in the affirmative as the corpulent bitch pulled me away from my escort and toward her, grasping me warmly. “So, beautiful,” she said, her eyes dilated with drugs and lust. Her hands cupped my ass cheeks. “Only the best for the Dark Lord.”
“I’m flattered,” I said.
“Fuck modesty,” she cackled. “You’re simply sex on a stick, aren’t you, love. Isn’t that right, Fenris?”
The burly man did not answer, but the witch continued to tease him.
“He’s practically drooling!”
Fenris, with a sneer, headed through another door through which peels of tittering laughter could be heard.
“Here, my dear.”
She carved out a pair of lines and offered the mirror and fondled my ass I leaned over and snorted up the stuff, and my first taste of the potent drug hit me like the Hogwarts Express.
“Oh, fuck yeah…”
“We’re going to have such fun,” she said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Come, give us a kiss.”
I closed my eyes and pictured Tiff in my mind’s eye as the witch’s lips met mind and her tongue slid into my mouth.
In for a penny…
I took hold of her body and worked my tongue against hers.
“Come,” she said, finally when we came up for air. “Must not leave the Dark Lord waiting.”
She led me into the large bedroom, dominated by an immense four-poster. Poised at the mantle of the roaring fire stood several witches in various states of undress. A high-backed chair was placed before them in which sat the villain himself, Wormtail hovering behind, rubbing his crotch with his good hand.
Lestrange led me to TMR, saying, “My Lord, may I present Miss Schnäggle.”
I had no idea whether to grovel or play it cool. Luckily, he extended his rather delicate, long fingered hand and I took it and kissed it.
“Charming, charming,” he said, gesturing to the panel of babes in front of him. I stepped back and took a place beside hot little Tiff, now topless and coked up. She took my face in her hands and immediately began to French me. I went with it.
“I see you two are already acquainted,” I heard the Dark Lord say. “Narcissa, make our new guest feel at home.”
I felt another pair of hands on my ass, stroking the flesh of Schnäggle in the most pleasing manner and then teasing up the hem of the dress.
“Lovely, lovely,” remarked the audience.
Then Tiff slipped the spaghetti straps from my shoulders and the dress slid off me into a puddle on the ground.
“Yes, now let me see all you lovelies…”
Thus, we arrayed ourselves, nude, and facing him.
He rose and walked down the line, touching here, fondling there. When he reached me, he took delight in the snake tattoo that decorated the fabulous torso of Schnäggle. His hands squeezed the full, firm flesh of my borrowed breasts. He dragged his long, dirty nails up the smooth, under slopes, and I shivered. With cool, methodic calculation, he carefully pinioned my long, hard, meaty nipples between his pointed fingernails and then pinched down hard. Then, bringing his mouth to each breast he stroked the smooth flesh with his tongue, dwelling especially upon each nipple, which he then placed between his gleaming teeth, squeezing and squeezing while gazing into my eyes. He bit to such a point that the fear began to creep up the base of my neck, and then, pleased by the emotion he had stirred, withdrew. He then moved on to Tiff, licking a finger and penetrating her pussy with it. So, he dawdled with each of us, with Lestrange following behind to indulge in her own lesbianic play.
Having surveyed our fronts, we were directed to turn, and he repeated his inspection, focused this time on our back sides. When it was my turn, he pried apart the ample bun cheeks of my borrowed body. I felt his breath in my crack and then his strong tongue began to play against the bunghole of La Schnäggle. The intense sensations brought about what I can only describe as an out-of-body experience.
OK, so the Dark Lord is actually licking my ass-hole.
When he had finished toying with our fannies, he seated himself once more, I became aware that there was something off about TMR. What man could really survey this amount of hot female flesh and resist deploying his cock?
He’s impotent, I realized. So much splintering of his self and soul had resulted in a fractured man. He did not, however, let a little thing like impotence get in the way of his rampant sexuality. He began to stage manage various couplings from which he derived an almost palpable pleasure. An unlucky brunette was offered as a sop to Wormtail who eagerly began to fuck her on a chaise.
“Bella,” he said. “Our little blonde friend deserves an introduction to your new toy.” Pursuant to these remarks, luscious little Tiff found herself porked by Lestrange and a massive black strap-on. Fenris who apparently had a long-standing beef with Lucious Malfoy was invited to cuckold him by screwing Narcissa who, of all the attendees, seemed to be enjoying the evening the least. We watched, however, as he pushed her to her knees and stuffed his fat cock in her mouth prior to placing her in a chair and fucking her in a most energetic manner. At some point, her will must have dissolved, and her lusty moans filled the room. As s repellant as I found him, I admit that the bestial nature of love making stirred something deep and primal within me. The scent of his musk hung in the air, and I perceived powerful pheromone working on my psyche.
But it seemed that the Dark Lord was saving the best – which is to say the kinkiest – for last.
“Miss Schnäggle, I believe Nagini is rather lonely there on the bed.”
In all the hedonism, I had not spotted the massive snake, nestled there in the bedcoverings.
“Nagini, I think I have found you a kindred spirit!”
OK, so am I really gonna fuck a snake?
I am not sure what possessed me, but the combination of the coke, the alcohol, the excitement of the incognito, and the thrill of the body that I had “borrowed” all conspired to place me in a mode of pure, hedonistic sexuality. I was no longer myself, in some way. I had pushed aside any notion of spying, of subterfuge, indeed, of any mission. I willingly, willfully slid onto the satin sheets beside the massive serpent. Its muscular, tubular body, the sheen of its skin seemed to beckon me, to ignite a longing centered squarely in my clit. I pressed my naked body against the length of the creature as the coils lazily looped around my thigh. It turned its head toward me, golden eyes inscrutable and flicked its forked tongue, gently brushing my cheek, like the flutter of a butterfly’s wing. Then the powerful body surged against me. I moved in concert with it, flexing my strong legs around its body, causing my sex to slide against the leathery scales. I gasped as the first wave of pleasure washed up my body and hugged the upper expanse of the snake to my breasts. I began to work my body against it as it, in turn, worked against me.
“Yes, yes,” purred the Dark Lord.
I continued to grind against the girth of the snake, so strong between my legs, sending pulses of pleasure rippling through the frame of Stefanie, urging me closer and closer to the promise of a clitoral orgasm. Even as I gave myself over to the climax, the matter of the anatomy of the snake took on a great importance.
Snakes have a pair of cocks, don’t they?
I felt the stiff presence of a pair of appendages pressing against my belly and beginning to work lower even as the coils wrapped around my torso, pressing on my rib cage. Things had taken an ugly turn. The Dark Lord, grinning manically stood over us, enraptured. The bestial gonads slipped lower, down between my spread legs, rubbing against the pair of apertures there.
Oh, my Lord!!!
As the snake pushed Stefanie’s wet holes, I experienced my first double penetration. I had fantasized it would come at the cocks of the W twins, but fate ordained something quite different, foul and degenerate. I nearly swooned at my bottom hole gaped under the intrusion and my wet pussy welcomed the matching cock of the Dark Wizard’s familiar. TMR, standing over us, tensed in a rush of obvious pleasure.
Good God, he’s getting off vicariously through the reptile!
“Yes, yes!” he hissed as the snake’s penises writhed and flexed deep within my body, and my clit mashed against the smooth skin, propelling me to a second plateau of pleasure. My mind reeled as I clutched at the sheets and the air was slowly crushed out of my lungs. My pulse pounded in my ear such that I feared my head would explode.
This is it, I thought. Fucked to death by a giant snake as part of a perverse sex game.
Then, I heard TMR gasp loudly even as the appendages convulsed within me. Suddenly, all the power seemed to drain from the massive reptile, whose coils relaxed and melted off my body. Drained, I gulped for air, my head swimming and motes flashing in my vision. As the twin plugs withdrew from, my ass and cunt, I felt a warm flood, the leaking sperm of the foul reptile spilling from my body and soiling the sheets. It seemed I had been saved by the snake’s lack of staying power.
Saved by premature ejaculation!
For the longest time, I laid there, regaining my breath, and recovering from the intense stimulation. The presence of another body between my legs finally roused, me however, and there, looming above was Fenris, apparently up to another screw. Anything of interest to Malfoy needed to be his as well, it seemed. Though ugly as a toad, his body was particularly muscular and manly. His cock, long and thick loomed up, ruddy, and angry, glistening in the firelight with the intimate juices of Mrs. Malfoy. Before I knew it, he was buried, balls deep in my Stefanie’s cunt. Slick with the recent emissions of the snake, my body was well lubricated to receive the large member.
Oh, that’s good.
Primed by the preceding orgasms, Stefanie’s body shifted into high gear. A deep, powerful fuck was just what the doctor ordered. I grasped hold of his ass and pulled him deeper into me before throwing my legs up onto his shoulders.
“Fuck me like you mean it, you bastard!”
I heard Lestrange cackle and then she slid in next to me.
“You heard the woman!”
She began to frig my clit energetically with her fingertips as Fenris slammed his meat stick deep into my body, slapping my damp flesh with his. Stefanie’s body grew more and more tense. My heart, I was sure, would burst. And then I came – and came and came – a stream of intimate moisture squirting and spurting from her enflamed cunt. Stefanie, it turns out, is a big time squirter. Fenris must have finished as well as he pulled out, dripping come, grinning, and quite satisfied with himself.
Lestrange slid on top of me.
‘’By the gods, that was quite something,’ she said as she brought her mouth to mine. As we made out, she began to finger fuck me until I came once again, spurting all over her hand.
“I need a drink,” I said slipping off the bed.
The Dark Lord was slumped in his chair. Tiff was passed out on the chaise. Narcissa played with herself.
I need to get the fuck out of here.
Scooping up my dress from the floor, I retreated into the adjacent washroom on shaky legs. I was quite the disheveled wreck. I peed and then did my best to rinse all the come out of my pussy on the bidet. Then I splashed water on my face and rebound my hair in a ponytail. Retrieving my clutch from where I had stashed it under some towels, I gulped more P-juice and slid out of the room, down the hall and down the back stairs. A grandfather clock recorded the time as after three in the morning and just as I retrieved my trench coat, who should appear out of nowhere, but Malfoy senior.
“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me,” I confessed.
“Going somewhere?”
“Yes indeed, there’s only so much excitement a girl can take for one night,” I said. “Or is there?”
Here, I must admit that my ongoing affair with his son, my entanglement with his family, the late spectacle of the porking of his wife, and, I admit, my own deep sexual attraction for him from the first moment we met fused into a powerful longing to fuck the man. Moreover, I knew of course that the smarmy dark wizard wanted to fuck Stefanie and the time for flirtation had long since passed. I took him by the hand and pulled him into the foyer of the mansion. There must be, I reasoned, a washroom nearby – and sure enough one presented itself – cramped with ornate gilded fixtures, but perfect for the task at hand. I went to my knees before him, released his cock and took it into my mouth. It hardened straightaway, slipping deeper and deeper into my throat. Then, hiking up the dress and seating myself on the edge of the sink, I pulled his head to my crotch. I had enjoyed great stimulation throughout the night, but this cunnilingus had been in short supply.
“That’s it, get your tongue in there. Oh, that’s good.”
As he licked my engorged vulva and clit, it occurred to me that his offspring had never pleasured HG in this intimate manner. What a shame. Longing for the intimacy of a kiss, I finally pulled him to his feet and engaged him in a deep exchange of tongues, even as his hard on asserted itself between my legs. He penetrated me and a powerful wave of pleasure assailed me, causing me to clutch at him. I managed to master my emotions to enjoy the sight of his cock working its way in and out of Stefanie’s dripping snatch. I came, spewing pussy juice all over his cock, which seemed to enflame him. I took him in my mouth once more, tasting Stefanie, working my fingers against the hard root of muscle between his legs as I sucked him off. He clutched my shoulders as he came, dumping several spurts of come deep in my gullet. I was well prepared for the release, however, and swallowed it all down. Wiping my lips, I tongued him once more to allow him a taste of his own spunk.
“Now, I’m afraid it’s time for this witch to turn into a pumpkin.”
With that, I left him in the washroom.
“Until we meet again,” he said as I slipped out.
Always leave them wanting more.
I caught a cab and changed clothing on the ride back to our hiding spot. It was time relieve my friends and release the real Stefanie Schnäggle to whatever fate awaited her.
“You look like you’ve - “
“Had a long night, yes. Lots of dancing, actually.”
Not to mention bestiality.
“Let’s get the heck out of here.”
We place Stefanie in her bed, and I work a memory charm on her. We must linger, several hours, however, until the potion weas off and I can return to my own, mundane form. In that time, I pored over the diaries and files of the evil witch, storing up valuable information for the future. When the boys aren’t looking, I add a generous clipping of her hair to my growing collection. They avoid making eye contact with me, either out of intimidation from her extreme beauty or shame for their defiling of her body in my absence.
Until we meet again, Stefanie Schnäggle.
- 15
- 16
- 17
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Confession by Hermione G.