章節 174: You Love Me For Everything You Hate Me For [1]
Summary: Draco challenged Harry to an ancient ritual duel to prove himself to the Death Eaters and get Harry out of the way. When Harry wins, Draco becomes a girl bound forever as Harry's plaything. Harry takes well to having 'Darcy' under his heel, but her failures and new body cause problems with those Malfoy once trusted. Harry is more accepting of Darcy than the Slytherins ever would be, but even with her life in disarray, will she be able to accept that?
-x-X-x-
"Are you ready to lose everything now, Potter?" Draco hissed, standing with his wand drawn, the candles flickering with a sickly green glow unlike anything Harry had ever seen before. On the floor lay a chain that somehow tied into this ritual. A ritual that Harry didn't understand in the least, but Draco had challenged him to a duel under rules that demanded his acceptance or suffer deep consequences to his magic. "When I win this duel, you will be done for. You will have to submit, and you will stand aside."
Harry didn't know what the hell this was, but he didn't have a choice here. "Are you going to just talk?" he asked, dismissive and bitter as he stared Draco down from his spot. "You're the one who wanted this duel, now you're stalling."
Draco didn't want this duel. The thought made him wince. He was compelled to do it. By his father, by the other Death Eaters, by the desire to do something to prove he was worthy and that he and he alone could remove Harry Potter as a threat. Success here would silence everybody and solidify himself as a success story, as someone who Voldemort would want in his service. "You don't want me to stop talking, because once this duel begins, you will be a slave to the Malfoy family." Draco didn't understand this ritual much himself. The stakes and the circumstances behind this obscure ceremony left him completely unsure of what would even happen. From what he'd been told, the loser would become instantly bound under the heel of the winner, subjugated and beholden to every command. There was a cold cell waiting for Harry, and he'd step into it and never see the light of day again.
"Duel me," Harry shot back. Simple. Direct. He held his wand out and prepared himself, and Draco took up his own duelling stance. The candle flames flickered powerfully before flaring up brighter and turning a sickly blue. The fight was on.
Harry had no intention of engaging in any real duel with Draco. He moved to catch him off guard with a single spell, sidestepping a sudden shot of magic from Draco and casting his disarming charm. It was the 'safe' method. The easy method. Draco didn't see it coming, so locked into his violent mindset that he never considered defense, let alone defense against a non-attack. Not until his wand left his hand and was soaring across the room. Draco couldn't do a damn thing about it, watching the wand go and yelling out in panic. The duel was over in mere seconds, and embarrassment would surely follow.
'Embarrassment' did not begin to cover what began to brew. The candles' flames dulled, but turned a sudden, wavering violet colour. A violet that began to blow from Draco's body in turn, Harry stumbling his way back in shock while the light turned blinding, consuming the Slytherin's form and casting the whole room in its strange purple glow. Fierce and overbearing light cast its strange, sickly glow over the room. It kept harry from seeing nay of what was happening, but in his panic, he flung himself forward. He didn't like Malfoy. Not even a little bit. But his first thought, even if he couldn't see, was that something was happening to him, and he moved to pull his robes off, fearing he'd have to smother out some magical flames. Draco let out wild, hellish shrieks, his voice rising in pitch in ways that grated at Harry's ears, made this seem all the more insane to him as he threw himself forward to try and help him back from this writhing panic. He needed to do something, he reasoned, but as he finally reached Draco across the room, the light was already fading, there were bigger problems now to handle.
Draco wasn't Draco anymore.
Where once the snide and vain boy lay, now lay a girl whose platinum blonde hair suddenly ran long, reaching down past her shoulders. Her face took on sharper features, softer and fuller lips looking perfect for pursing while sending catty comments about classmates sailing across the room. But those weren't the things Harry noticed first. What he noticed first were the outrageously plump tits that had torn Draco's button-down shirt wide open, forcing to apart and leaving them shamelessly exposed. There was no way Harry could have paid notice to anything else in the sudden surprise of the moment, his eyes tightening their focus on her chest.
Draco was so stunned by what had just happened to her that she didn't even think to lash out at first. Staring in just as much shock down at her changed body, all she could feel was the baffling presence of something very definitely wrong here. "This wasn't what was supposed to happen!" she shouted. "You were supposed to lose!" Furiously she stared up at Harry. "You cheated, Potter. You had to have." Her whole life was crashing down around her, and she had absolutely no idea what she was doing, but she lashed out with vengeful panic and a sense of relentless chaos, needing only to stand up for herself.
"You were going to turn me into a girl?" Harry was incredulous, but not exactly against what eh was looking at here. Maybe it was the way the sight of Draco's new female form seemed pretty hot in a bitchy mean girl kinda way. Maybe it was her absolutely massive tits. Draco's pants had stayed intact, but strained under a bigger ass and rounder hips. He could only imagine how gorgeous her legs looked. "You were going to turn me into a girl." He said it again. Angrier this time. A violet glow began on him just as intense, another part of the spell that Draco hadn't even begun to realize the scope of when he committed to doing this, but had he known it, maybe he would have been more apprehensive.
There was no reason Draco's eyes should have drifted to his cock, to the way it so aggressively strained against his jeans. It intimidated her, but she didn't feel like she had the strength to do anything about it, suddenly robbed of the strength she needed and the power she should have had. "Potter?" she asked, voice not meant to sound as meek as it did.
"You were going to turn me into a girl and fuck me," Harry scowled, his hand going for his jeans, posture shifting as he pulled his zipper down and opened himself up to the sudden chaos of his strangest wants. "It failed, Malfoy. You're the girl now. You're my girl now." Something came over him that he didn't fully understand, driven by the spell itself and compelling him forward with a harsh spike of greed and want.
The spell they wanted Draco to use was an old and depraved one. The loser was turned by force into a girl to be taken as a prize by the victor, with the victor feeling an intense compulsion to make the loser their bitch. A single load of cum filling the newly grown womb would make the situation permanent, and the intense compulsion to dominate would grow easier but still always be there as a hard greed for domination. Draco hadn't known any of this in its specifics, and she was about to learn the hard way.
"Potter, do not touch me," she hissed, attempting to kick herself up to her feet, but as she tried to rise, Harry seized a fistful of her platinum blonde locks, and before she knew it, Draco was being guided right toward Harry's lap. Harry reached into his pants, and Draco had to muster up the speechless, indignant rage of suddenly being smacked across the face with Harry's cock. She trembled under the utter panic and disrespect of his attention, her body clenching up in sweeps of pure panic. "No. I--this wasn't how it was supposed to go."
"You wanted this duel, you lost. Now it's time to pay up." Harry didn't care about any of that, his aching cock pressing against her face, throbbing with excitement while lusts more primal than Harry had ever felt before took hold of him. He was vicious and forward and ready to be a brutal mess, a monster. The burning pressures upon him forced him into a state of greed and heat too relentless to control, and he didn't try to fight it. Harry felt those burning passions pulling him in deep. Relentless fascination held onto him tightly, and without a shred of sense in his head, Harry guided his cock toward Draco's lips and forced it into her mouth.
This wasn't how nay of this was supposed to end, but all of Draco's fire meant nothing when she felt Harry's dick sink into her mouth. Some part of her immediately clenched up in ravenous acceptance, and even fully against her will, her lips wrapped around his shaft and she sank forward in hopeless acceptance, thoughts going blank and all sense of control beginning to melt out of her in a show of fitful delirium, aching through the heat and the desire of all reason breaking down. Strong hips wasted no time in thrusting forward, pumping with relentless aggression to have a fun with her that she was powerless now against, and there felt like no good way to resolve any of this. She was doomed to crash.
Tightening his grip in her hair, Harry plunged forward with a joy that hit him hard. "I think I like you better this way," he teased, hips pumping more eagerly forward, opening Draco up to the panic and the chaos of sudden surrender. Deep strokes forward left no time for her to deal with all these spikes of sensation and heat, pulses of worry and panic all wearing quickly at her thoughts. Her mouth was stuck serving him, the tension and clenched-up heat of suddenly giving in to this leaving her baffled and terrified, wondering what to make of how harshly these thrusts into her mouth were wearing at her now. She wanted to pull back from this, trying to lean away from Harry while feeling the harsh pulls only drag her in tighter, forcing her to confront the weird passion and confusion of a pleasure that ripped with guilty fever through her body.
Gagging on Harry's cock was the last thing Draco wanted to do right now, but the tight grip pulled her down, made her throat his shaft and struggle harder under the deluge of chaos and wicked heat that drove her mad. She felt completely unable to hold herself together, hands fumbling against his lap, attempting to shove him back but being met with absolute resistance and a chaos growing more fitful by the second. She felt weak though, unable to muster up any real opposition to pressures growing wilder out of control. Her mouth remained obediently wrapped around his cock, no strength to be found in trying to hold back, while the one person who she hated most fucked her mouth as a victory lap. This was madness, and she was stuck trying to cope with all of it, siding deeper into disarray and panic with each overbearing stroke forward.
"You make such a pretty girl," Harry teased. "And those tits are huge. Guess you'll need a new uniform for all that." Pounding harder and rougher forward, harry worked toward his selfish pleasure with an almost deranged sense of need, growing more fitful and desperate with each passing moment. He needed this. he very specifically, utterly needed this pleasure, and nothing else made a whole lot of sense to him. He worked to dominate Draco, to reap the benefits of his twisted victory, making her gag along on his cock and struggle through the most senseless of surrenders, a passion burning up brighter and fiercer with each second ticking away.
There was no good way to deal with this reality. Draco felt the tense, clenching panic and worry of sweeping despair hit her, leaving her unsure how to contain her panics. Harry's cock continued plundering away at her mouth, making her drool down onto her newly grown tits and struggling to fathom how any of this was supposed to work. She felt lost here, and the only direction that she felt like she had was to throw herself right into Harry's arms. It wasn't what she wanted in the least. But there she was, growing desperate and panicked. The wetness between her legs didn't even really make sense to her; this newly grown pussy was something she had no frame of reference for how to experience, but she didn't have anything resembling a choice here. The growing chaos hit her head-on, and she was powerless against it.
Harry didn't stop until he got what he wanted, until he was slamming forward and erupting down her throat. Draco struggled and sputtered her way through the taste of bitter semen flooding her mouth and gushing down her gullet, hitting her with overbearing sweeps of a pressure she was powerless to fight. It was too much, her thoughts spiraling out of control and plunging into the chaotic, dizzy haze of a pressure she wanted nothing to do with, but the choice wasn't hers. Not here. Her body was stuck in the swampy haze and chaos of having to submit fully, wishing for a clarity and a focus where there was absolutely none. Draco had to swallow, struggling to deal with the utter collapse of her pride as she eased back in total panic and felt like she had simply broken.
Once every drop was spent in her mouth, Harry drew his hips back, cock smacking across her cheek, and his smile seemed unbreakable, bearing down with fiery intent upon Draco. "How'd my cock taste?"
"Like filth and disappointment," Draco spat back, refusing to give Harry any satisfaction here, if only as a matter of stubborn pride. "You can go now. You proved your point: you're a pig who forces yourself onto girls. It's good to see your true colours."
Harry remained level and tense. "You challenged me to this duel, and you lost. You can be as mad as you want, but you would have done the same to me. Now get your pants off." Harry stood gleefully over Draco. "Come on, Malfoy. Show me your pussy. Let's see if all of you is female now."
The indignant noises that Draco made didn't actually mean much when she started to undo her suddenly tighter pants. They didn't fit her well anymore, with longer legs, soft thighs, and round hips suddenly stuffing pants that once fit much better. Reluctantly, she shed her jeans and the underwear beneath, exposing to Harry and to herself for the first time her bare, glistening pussy, with a pair of plump lips awaiting attention and begging to be spread out. "Pervert," she hissed. "The second I get a vagina, you think you own me? What kind of a 'hero' are you supposed to be?" She was furious, but it was all empty. She would have odne the same to Harry given the chance, after all.
Harry knew it was paper-thin, but he didn't bother with it, heaving down upon her and grabbing hold of her soft thighs. They came apart readily. "You're all talk," he said, forcing himself between her legs and slamming down so abruptly into her that Draco didn't have even a second to deal with the sharp, harsh aggression behind his brutal thrusts. He pinned her to the floor, hands immediately going for her oversized chest. "But these are nice. I never thought about what you'd look like as a girl, but I would have guessed you would look like your mom. Uptight, twiggy. No tits, no ass. But here you are, having so much to hold onto. Maybe the spell is meant to turn you into the perfect fucktoy."
Draco snarled, but she stared up at him with a hopeless, vulnerable panic, wishing she was stronger and harsher while being pounded into complete submission and doing nothing to save herself. Her virgin pussy was slammed into and claimed fully, the pleasure hitting her with ferocious passion and a throbbing, bucking need and hunger that hit her stronger and messier. She didn't know how to handle any of it, burning deeper into the chaos and the heat she needed most. This all burned hotly, pulsating and throbbing harder through her body, imposing its absolute worst demands on her.
But there was no choice. "Your cock isn't even that impressive, you're just a smug jock," Draco hissed, all while her hands squeezed at his body and she fell ever deeper into the confused surrender that she loathed so much. Harry's thrusts were merciless, plunging Draco deeper into this confused sense of pure panic. He filled her so much, pushed her body to surrender to the twisting passions and the greeds of something she felt totally powerless against now, but the pleasure burning up through her was something she felt bound to give up to, simply not strong enough to handle the burning thrills of surrendering. The sensation of beign fucked so deep and so hard rattled Draco, left her baffled by the frustration and the pressures of being used so hard, and all she could do was suffer through it.
It felt good. it felt so good. She hated that fact more than anything, thrashing under the guilty ache and worry of these pressures, but the reality was, this all felt amazing. Searing ecstasy took her down low, left her a twisting wreck struggling to deal with how senselessly all these pleasures could wear at her. Draco couldn't help but burn for more of this, her hips rising off of the floor, moans struggling to try and escape from her lips in a desperate show of passion and heat, of a fire burning brighter through her, and she just didn't have a prayer of stopping it now. It was too much, and every part of her body ached and burned with a focused sense of dismay.
Harry was having the time of his life. "We shouldn't call you Draco anymore, should we? You need a girly name now, to go along with these big, girly tits you have." Groping at Draco's overgrown chest was every bit the delight he knew he could be, throwing himself harder into the chaos and fever of letting himself go. He wasn't able to control himself, refusing to slow his merciless hips in their reckless thrusts onward, throwing everything into the most senseless approach he could muster. Her snug pussy begged for his dick, and he was eager to oblige. "How about Darcy? That might be cuter than you deserve, but I think it suits you."
"D-Darcy?" She wanted to be furious, wanted to his and curse and spit up a storm in anger, but for some reason, her cheeks went bright red and a sense of sweet, coy joy washed over her. Darcy. It sounded like a nice name, and partly because of the compromising mental pressures that demanded she obey Harry, she found herself taking a liking to it. "I--that's not--you don't get to name me, Potter!"
"Darcy," he said again. "Your name is Darcy now."
Her name was Darcy now.
The mewling shame of being pushed to these drastic sweeps of heat and panic all took a weirder toll on Darcy, who struggled with how good her body felt, with the sensation and joy of being filled with Harry's cock and subjected to these abrupt pressures. It was better than she felt she could have possibly braced for, with every throb of her body bringing her closer to oblivion. It felt good in all the ways she didn't want things to feel good here. The choice wasn't hers, though, as much as she wanted it to be, and with hopeless throbs of passion and joy, her body unraveled, giving in to the spectacle and chaos of letting these passions consume her.
She came hard, a howling and hopeless wreck giving up fully to the demanding tide of pure, crushing ecstasy. This felt too good to make any sense of, and Darcy plunged into the shaky guilt and fever of giving up to all of it, a hopeless mess wracked by ecstasy. "Potter, this doesn't mean anything!" she shrieked, blatantly unraveling under the orgasmic fever of passions too pure to resist, but she just had to accept it as inevitable, had to succumb to the hopeless, slavish passions taking her too far and too deep. It was insanity, her limbs almost wrapping around his body in acceptance and surrender of these unruly passions. It made her sick to know she was this powerless.
Then Harry came, and everything plunged even deeper. Darcy's arms threw themselves around him as he slammed balls deep into her snug pussy, his cock pulsating and pumping hot shots of sticky cum deep into her. He was strong and dominant and everything she didn't realize she so desperately wanted from him until she felt it all take her, her new female form utterly ripe for the taking and powerless against the ecstasy of being cummed inside of. Her body thrashed about, the life-changing joys of giving up to this leaving her a hopeless and frayed sort of mess, powerless against the pressures that took their worst toll on her. She felt clueless, baffled, and compeltely spent.
Even worse than that, his load sealed the curse. Her womb was full of the cum of her new master, guaranteeing that she was eternally a girl and eternally his. Darcy didn't realize how deep this all ran, how much the strange madness upon her was her complete undoing. she just lay there breathless, her tits being toyed with more and more by Harry's hands, and she felt there was simply nothing to do but accept it.
"You're a brute," Darcy spat. "A Pig. You took advantage of mem treated my body like it was your property."
Harry's reply was a sharp and incisive, "It is." The absolute worst of the spell's influence was gone, but he remained harsh, staring down at her with the full certainty he owned her, and the desire to keep dominating her. "This was your spell, Darcy."
"S-stop calling me that," she whined, twisting on the floor like a petulant child, all while her oversized tits, which were definitely those of a child, continued to be kneaded in his strong hands. The weakness and the bizarre sense of complete panic that held heavy over her kept Darcy from knowing what to make of this, her body simply too hopeless now to do a damn thing about it. "This wasn't supposed to go like this."
"But it did," Harry said. "You can accept that, or you can keep fighting, but either way..." Harry drew away from her, pulling out of her pussy and watching ash is load began to ooze out of her well fucked hole. "You're going to sit up and give me a titfuck." Shamelessly loving every second of the control he held over this situation, Harry craved more attention and more sinful indulgence in Darcy's body. She was beholden to his every word, left with no choice but to perform and submit, and the power that gave him over her was tremendous. Shuffling up to her feet, all Darcy could do was grab hold of her breasts and wrap them around Harry's cock, offering herself up fully to the pressures and the madness of something that felt utterly inevitable, that made her body shudder through the hopeless hunger and heat of this moment.
"You're disgusting," she said, but as she started to work up and down his dick with her breasts, how much did that judgment really mean? She was completely powerless against the pressures of his worst attentions, her body guided up and down his shaft in obedient gestures making all too clear what her body was ready to do, given the chance. Her eyes drifted toward his lap, and for all the disgust she was supposed to be bound by, all she could do was stare at Harry's impressive cock, almost drooling in the face of such ravenous temptation and passion. She'd never felt anything like this, and certainly never felt any attraction toward Harry, but there she was, falling desperately, dizzily deeper into the fascination and panic of letting this push her limits, and she could do nothing about it.
"I guess the spell only makes you submit, but it doesn't get rid of your attitude. You lost, Malfoy. Do you want to take something with grace for the first time in your life, or should I fuck it out of you?" The spell kept nudging him toward harshness in turn, but it felt rewarding, every vulgar response to Darcy making his cock ache harder, making his head spin with throbbing excitement and a focused delirium. Mounting pressures and demands grew fiercer by the second. "Or maybe I should grab your tits and fuck them myself."
Two contrasting reactions hit Darcy without her active thought. One was starting to give up to him faster, working her tits along his cock with hastier gestures in the hopes of avoiding this trouble. The other was a clench of her thighs down together, making her shudder under the panicked guilt of knowing that the mere mention and idea of being dominated like this inspired deep, lustful aches inside of her. It didn't do her dignity any favours, didn't help Darcy feel any better about the shameful throb and pulse of what hit her. She was powerless here, wishing she understood how to contain herself while staring down at his aching cock. It glistened with her juices, and the mere sight of it left her dizzy.
Even with how indecently large her new breasts were, Harry's cock stuck proudly up out of the top of her cleavage, and even just staring at that, taking in how hung Harry was and how desperately these feelings all burned through her, induced something hopeless and wanton. Craning her head forward, she felt unable to argue against the temptation, wrapping her lips around his dick and sucking on it as part of this indulgence. Meek blue eyes stared up at him, burning confusion and throbbing heat all wearing at her thoughts with a desperation and a worry she felt powerless to deal with.
"Holy shit," Harry groaned, not having seen that coming but finding himself all the more eager to lean into this pleasure as she worked for his attention. "You're getting into it. That feels so good." He grabbed her head and pushed the blonde down a bit more. "Can you taste yourself on me?" He couldn't resist gloating, but with Darcy looking up so meekly at him and clearly opening herself up to the sweeping pressure and panic of these ecstasies, could Harry really be blamed for that? He beheld the sweet, hopeless wreck of a girl compeltely lost to her own desires, fumbling deeper into the obedient reverence of magical submission.
The squirming, bitter refusal on Darcy's part to conceded how badly she wanted it felt less and less convincing by the second. She was caught in the bizarre spiral of panic and worry, wondering how to stand up for herself while inching ever closer to conceding to Harry that she liked it. The taste of her pussy was indeed all over his cock, but somehow the tart flavour didn't bother her. As a boy, eating pussy had been awful and Draco had gone to every length possible not to eat Pansy out. But here, slathered around Harry's cock, it tasted oddly enticing, hitting her in a way that still didn't make a lot of sense, but in the place of sense came something more satisfying and ravenous, a passion growing fiercer with each shove forward, demanding so much and leaving no sense of control to spare these growing panics. It just kept building.
"I'm not enjoying this," Darcy hissed, trying to save face and avoid deepening her acceptance of these weird pressures, squirming in place and seeking to do something, anything, to help herself. The more she got fixated on Harry's cock, the more concerned she became about what was happening to her, and with each forward, it felt stranger and messier, pulling her into a bizarre state of confusion and heat, worried and fraying at the seams. She was giving up to this all with such intensity, a haste sweeping through her body that felt like it was demanding more and more from her by the second, and all Darcy could do was let it take her.
Harry rolled his eyes, but he took a bit of pity on her, standing over her while she continued to prove how much she was enjoying it with all the kisses and sloppy attentions she paid his cock. It made all too clear what she was into at least on some level, and Harry knew rubbing it in too much would be pushing it. Truth was, the deeper consequences of this spell left so many lingering questions, and he didn't know how deep this would run or what the future held for them, but he felt the burning pressures upon him to try and do something with it, to throw himself harder into the strange chaos and haze of giving in to this all. She was still Malfoy after all, tits or not.
Said tits were due for a blasting with cum, as Harry groaned out, "So close," in warning. Darcy lingered around his cock a bit longer, sucking steadily away in a fit of passion and frustration, opening herself up to the writhing chaos of pushing onward, unable to resist these sinfully potent thrills, pleasures and passions taking her harder by the second, opening her up to the wild fever of a world she was horribly unprepared to be facing. She drew her head back and received the prize awaiting her, Harry's cock erupting all over her face and her chest, making her shiver under the wild pressures and fever of giving up so steeply. Darcy took it all, trying to hold back the desire to moan as she received it. The pleasure and the chaos of this made for something so ferocious and baffling for her, and she wished she was able to resist these strange pressures.
Darcy was sure Harry was done now. She needed him to be, feeling the dizzy ache and the delirium of having been completely overwhelmed, taken to the limit by Harry and his absolute worst efforts. "Okay," she said, drawing away, wiping some cum off of her face. "That was--never speak of this again, Potter, or I will make sure your life is destroyed."
That was the emptiest thread Harry could have ever imagined, but he stood there amused at first, taking in the sight of her trying to act all high and mighty. it brought hi the sort of depraved and twisted excitement he knew could only get better. Letting it linger a moment he soaked it all in, even let her get up to her feet, and let Darcy sink into a false sense of security. It just made it more fun to get her complacent before he seized her long blonde locks and forced her over at the hip, bending her into place and slamming from behind up her twat with a vindictive fever, ready to go at it again, and even harder now. "I think I'd rather watch you leave with more cum leaking out."
Darcy whimpered her way through surrendering to this chaos, his grip turning her hair into a handle and all sense of control melting out of her in a hasty rush of sloppy chaos and worry. She couldn't believe this was all happening to her, and she was utterly indignant, furious with this treatment and with the way he took to so shamelessly using her, pounding without restraint into her pussy and showing her no mercy. It was exactly what Darcy should have expected, but the panic and her shrieks showed off just how helpless she was, caught off guard and left to struggle and flail her way through receiving these wild, chaotic sweeps. She felt lost here, struggling for sense and for focus while each deep slam forward rattled her, induced a sense of complete obedience within her. She didn't have a choice but to give in, and she knew it.
From this position, with his hips crashing against her ass, Harry held even more power and leverage over Darcy, and he took firm advantage of all of it, pounding away at her snug hole without a shred of restraint, relishing in the satisfaction and greed he found in using her so harshly. Darcy had to take the fullest brunt of Harry's lusts, making it impossible to resist what she felt pushing her, growing more panicked and more ferocious by the second. It was amazing, searing its way through her body and sending her plunging into a state of warming, wanton joy, a delirium so sweeping and demanding in its nature that it didn't seem real to her.
Smacks across her round ass and sharp pulls on her hair brought on sweeps of a dizzy panic that Darcy felty hopeless against, thrown into a state of delirium and chaos that held her tightly. Uncontrollable lust burned hotter through her body, and every ache of these senseless passion felt stranger, fiercer, making this turn into something so bizarre and ferocious that she didn't understand how to handle any of it. But her body did. Her hips slammed back without control or sense, meeting Harry's hard strokes and surrendering deeper and hotter to passions she couldn't deal with. This was too much, and she found herself aflame with panics too steep to contain, growing needier and hungrier, want throbbing through her body with brutal fever growing more bizarre and chaotic with each shove forward.
It was only, the two of them in the room, lit by candlelight, with the sounds of raw, brutal sex ringing out brighter and harsher with reach slam forward. There was nothing even resembling sense here, and with each stroke of his hops, Harry imposed upon Darcy his absolute worst, making her tremble and shiver harder through these feelings, growing messier under the oppressing pressures all demanding something worse and weirder and more chaotic with each shove forward. Harry found his groove, using his leverage on her hair to take her even harder.
"More!" passed her lips. She didn't want it to. The gasping pleasure forcing its expressions up from her throat left Darcy panicked, growing more terrified and certain with each slam forward that she was powerless against this, and she wished she was better capable of handling these sweeps of fever and heat, worried about the pleasures deepening their toll on her, expressing the worst and most ferocious of pressures with only this searing pressure in mind. Delirium wound her up with absolutely no indication it was going to end, but as the pleasure churned through her and her body sank ever deeper into this wanton chaos, the truth was becoming abundantly, infuriatingly clear to Darcy.
She didn't want it to stop.
This wasn't just her body rebelling, but a deep desire inside of her, one that she struggled harder with by the second, demanding that she succumb to the ravenous and reckless sweeps of a pleasure she was powerless to fight. This felt too good, and Darcy trembled her way through shoving her round ass back against Harry's lap in hopeless offering, giving up deeper to pleasures and desires more reckless than she could possibly deal with, and the ugly truth was, she didn't want to deal with them. She wanted to be consumed by them, and everything in the way of that simply had to go. This was an amazing pulse of relentless joy, a chaos coming on stronger and messier, demanding a pulse of pleasure she just couldn't handle any longer.
The climax ripping through Darcy so much hotter and stronger. She trembled in the wild aftermath of all these crushing joys, loving every second of what hit her and needing desperate to slide deeper into it. It was joy, an overbearing ecstasy she craved more than anything, head rolling bacvk, crushing ecstasy hitting her with overbearing delight and a guilty rush of pure satisfaction. This was everything she needed it to be, even if she wasn't sure she wanted it to be. But she moaned, "Cum in me," with a certain fire and intensity that definitely felt like it was real. All of it. All real and maddening and plunging her into a state of chaos that she wasn't sure she would ever come out from.
With a smack on her ass and another sharp pull at her hair, Harry filled her pussy up with another flood of cum. "So good," he groaned, holding her down on his cock, filling her with his seed and driving her up the wall with panic. The twitching chaos of giving up to this all as so much more demanding and exhausting than Darcy knew how to deal with, but Harry's only concerns were for his own matters. "I can get used to having you at my beck and call."
Darcy shot back, "You're delusional."
"And you're mine now," Harry said. He let go of her, and he noticed the way she remained impaled on his cock a few seconds, long enough first to realize he'd let go of her, then a few more to realize she 'wanted' to pull off of his dick. Stumbling forward, she put enough space between them as quickly as she could to hopefully avoid inspiring more of his wrath. "Are you done yet?"
"For now," Harry said. "Fucking you four times was enough. You can go run back to your dorm room and explain to everyone that you lost so hard you turned into a girl."
Darcy wished she had it in her to take a swing at Harry, that his attitude was one she could somehow shut up and stomp all over. But she felt powerless here, and instead limply stumbled off, completely unable to mount nay good argument against these pressures. Shuffling off with his cum leaking out of her, Darcy knew that with every step she took, she wasn't getting any closer to normalcy. She was bound for her dorm, bound for the insane conversations she'd need to have what would surely do nothing to help her find her dignity again. She was trapped in this insane position now of simply having to give in completely to whatever madness Harry had in mind for her. Permanently.
****************************
"Nobody respects me now," Darcy muttered, isolated in her dorm room, wrapped in blankets to help cover up her new body, scowling her way through eating the plate of breakfast someone had brought her down. She hadn't shown her face for days, buried deep in horrible embarrassment and the pointed certainty that more problems would arise from it. As few people knew about her duel failures as she could get away with, for fear of mockery and exposure. But hiding down here wasn't only a means of preserving her dignity; Darcy knew that leaving the Slytherin dorms would get her back in the line of fire for whatever depravity Harry wanted from her.
So she sat and she stewed, seeing the dirty looks she got, brought the work she missed in class while insisting she'd come down with 'sickness'. Madame Pomfrey had been down to examine her and agreed that until there was a solution found, missing class was ideal, but Darcy knew there wasn't any good way out of this. She'd read up on the ritual--there wasn't a damn thing else to do--and discoverer that once the loser was cummed inside of, the spell was permanent, with no known wizard ever managing to break it once a couple had mated to completion. She was bound to Harry now, and would be for the rest of her life, by all accounts.
Darcy was waiting for something else, too. When her door opened again, she was hopeful, wide-eyed, expecting. "Is it here?"
"Why don't you gimme a and I'll tell you, 'Darcy'?" sneered Goyle.
"We're running messages for you, why don't you flash us your tits?" Crabbe laughed along with it all.
Darcy's eyes narrowed. It burned worse when Crabbe and Goyle did these things than when Harry had. Harry's words were somehow not as disrespectful, but more than that, it was different coming from a tall, fit, hunky wizard with such a nice face that-- She was getting off track again. Darcy snapped back into reality groaning to herself. "My being a girl does not change who my father is," she scowled. "You will do well to remember that."
The two didn't stop snickering as they handed the letter over to her. "Right from Malfoy Manor."
Darcy's hand reached out from her wrapping of blankets, and her hand snapped out toward it, a scowl spread across her face. "Leave," she said, clutching the letter tightly, burning up in raw shame as she tried to compose herself enough to open it up. Crabbe and Goyle used to be ready to do anything for her. Now, they were too busy laughing like jackals about the idea she had breasts. It was a fall greater and more infuriating than Darcy knew how to deal with, but she remained ultimately powerless here.
Opening the letter, she had hopes. Horribly tempered and uncertain hopes, but hopes. Within this letter was going to be the word back from her parents, and hopefully, it would be good news. Acceptance. Forgiveness. She'd failed to stop Harry, and now she was stuck as a girl. Voldemort himself had wanted her to do this, and what had that earned her?
When she opened it up, the room filled with horrific noise, a thundering, deep burst of pure judgment. "You failure!" Lucius had not raised his voice in sending the howler. The magic letter amplified his composed and threatening tone, adding volume to it that made it all the more terrifying. "You had one duty, and you could not win a simple duel on your own terms? The Dark Lord did not ask much lot of you, but clearly he asked more than you had to give. You are a disgrace to the family name, and I may no longer have a son, but I certainly do not have a daughter, either."
Darcy trembled in the bed, shaking under the sounds of her father's voice slamming against the walls of the room and bouncing back onto her. Nobody liked receiving howlers in the Great Hall in front of their families, but even for as much as the room echoed, there was so much other sound and so many other people that it what echo there was promised a cavernous effect. Inside the dorm room, it sounded different. Her father's voice sounded more intimately furious, the blistering anger of a father scolding their child in their own bedroom, making it feel all too real, too miserable. Tears began to run down her face, but the letter continued.
"Do not write home again. Do not ask me for a thing. You have disappointed us greatly and embarrassed your mother and I in front of the Dark Lord. We will not help you. We will not send anything from home. We will not write. You are disowned as our child, and you have no claim over the Malfoy name. Attempt to contact us again, and we will have you committed to St. Mungo's and locked away in an asylum for the rest of your life."
The sound stopped, and the silence was almost painful. Darcy's ears rang too hard for her to hear her own sobbing, which was of little comfort given how badly she shook now, fully aware that this was it for her. Darcy was cut off from her family name, cut off from her birthright and all comfort. Her parents had abandoned her. No word from her mother. No moment of forgiveness. No understanding. A threat to never speak to them again. Darcy was left to stew in utter misery, knowing that this was it for her as she stared off into space. There was no protection coming. No favour. No being pulled out of school so she could figure things out. She had to face life a disavowed and rejected girl.
With the protection of the Malfoy family no longer protecting Darcy--and the whole of the house could hear from outside the room--everything was about to change for Darcy. She was a joke before. Now? Nobody even had to pretend to still respect her. That night, Crabbe and Goyle sat in their beds and masturbated, cocks out, trying to get Darcy to look at their dicks, not quite forcing themselves onto her but leaving a clear path to do so when they got bored. And maybe that wasn't even going to be the worst of these insanities.
*******************************
Hogwarts kept a stock of second-hand uniforms for poor students, or students whose clothes were damaged by some sort of magical mishap. Darcy focused on the poor part as the uniform of some equally buxom Slytherin from ten years ago's uniform became her own. It wasn't something she was proud of in the least, but pride wasn't something Darcy got to deal with anymore. She couldn't deal with Crabbe or Goyle anymore. Not even Blaise. All three of them were the absolute worst to her now, being sexist pigs non-stop.
But Pansy, Daphne, and Tracey weren't a lot better. Darcy tried to find solace in hiding out with the girls instead, but Pansy refused to even look at her anymore. "Hey, Potter's used goods, hand me that vial," Pansy said during class, treating her boyfriend turned ex-girlfriend bitterly. That was how Pansy referred to Darcy. 'Potter's Used Goods'.
"Why won't you call me by my name?" Darcy asked, even while handing the vial of troll dust over to her. "I didn't choose this, Pansy. I know you don't want to be with a girl, but we can still be friends, can't we?" This was mortifying to Darcy, an isolating experience leaving her perpetually unsure what was happening or how she was supposed to deal with this, let alone come back from the insane pressures upon her. "Please, talk to me."
"I'm not a lezzie," was all she said, bitter and furious. TO Pansy, Draco turning into Darcy reflected badly on her even in hindsight. She wanted nothing to do with Darcy, who was simply a hanger-on to her group of girls now. They were once king and queen of Slytherin, and her position as such was one informed fully by the fact she was Draco's girlfriend, a, otherwise completely unspectacular girl with few redeeming qualities thrust into a position of power. She now used that power against the one who got her there. "Daphne, why don't you tell the tramp what the problem is?"
Daphne Greengrass didn't sound the least bit apologetic in saying, "You're embarrassing. Not just to your family. All of Slytherin hates you now, why are you even still hanging out with us? You couldn't beat Potter, and clearly he doesn't even want anything to do with you if you're his bitch now and he won't come collect you."
"If you're hanging out with us because you think we'd protect you from him, you're a dumb bitch," Tracey Davis said. "We wouldn't even protect you if Crabbe and Goyle wanted to fuck you."
"Crabbe and Goyle totally want to fuck Potter's Used Goods," Pansy said. "Pretty sad, too. I bet it's because those two can't get any better girls, so they don't care if they have to pound gutter trash."
Darcy was supposed to move in to the girls' dorms later that day, arrangements made with the school to set up another bed and dresser in that room to let Darcy be with girls instead of with boys. Clearly, that place wasn't going to be any less hostile. Tears began to run down her face, but she wiped them away, shaking her head firmly, trying her best to keep from thinking about it. No parents. No girlfriend. No friends. Everyone was leaving her behind.
**********************************
It took all of five seconds of Darcy's furniture being brought into the girls' room for her year for Pansy to 'accidentally' douse the mattress in a liquid used for the creation of discrete 'short range' stink bombs, a common prank from the Weasley twins when they wanted one specific person to have to smell something awful but wanted to avoid a teacher's detection for as long as possible. The bed reeked of death, and Darcy had to stand there with her effects in a box and nowhere to put it. Darcy didn't even bother to check the drawers; she noticed a billowing green smoke spilling out of one of the drawers, and she just knew they weren't safe either.
"You aren't welcome here. No loser tramps in this place," Pansy said. "I'm not putting up with rumours about being a lezzie because you're in here. Go sleep in the common room." Pansy was defensive and furious about the mere possibility people might think this somehow would lead to people thinking she was gay, a petulant teenager steeped in the most bizarrely self-conscious stupidity, but for that reason alone, Darcy wasn't even going to be able to call the Slytherin dorms her home. The girls of her year had completely demented ideas of what changing into a girl meant for Darcy, while the boys in her year were liable to force themselves on her in her sleep. But her parents weren't going to take her. Nobody would take her.
Nobody except, horrifyingly, one person.
********************************
"I don't know the password, and I don't fucking care, you painted bint! I need to get in there. I'm not sleeping out here in the hall way, and as long as I need to stand here screaming at you, I can make sure you won't be fucking sleeping, either! I need to see Potter!"
Darcy was red in the face, screaming at the painting of the Fat Lady while demanding entry into Gryffindor Tower. Her body trembled with rage and with panic. She wanted to cry, but all of her sorrow manifested as blistering anger. That was all Darcy was really ever equipped to feel. She was furious with this, but she didn't care. She stomped around, slamming against the wall, threatening the painting and looking like an absolute embarrassment in trying to do so, having no diea what else she could do in the face of this all. Things had been humiliating enough for her already, but she wasn't getting better, and this obstacle now to her even beign able to rest was infuriating.
There was one 'good' thing about the tantrum she threw: people in the common room could hear it. Some girl standing outside screaming at the top of her lungs to see 'Potter'. It was definitely Malfoy. Everyone knew it.
Harry took his time in approaching, unsure of what was about to happen and what he was in for. The Fat Lady gasped as someone coming in from behind gently nudged her aside, and Harry stepped out. "Darcy?" he asked.
It was the first time someone had actually called her that in hours, and that alone made her break down. Her jaw trembled as she stood before Harry, a hopeless wreck completely powerless now. "Potter," she replied, before hitting her knees, sobbing openly and loudly.
This was pure insanity. Harry had left Darcy to collect herself over a few nights, not in any hurry to gloat about it for a while, but now, before his eyes, Darcy was breaking down, and that was the one thing Harry was prepared for the least. Even the gender transformation and railing Darcy every which way was easier to swallow than the sight of the blonde crying on her knees, having screamed at a painting for him and now completely lost to her own emotions. Far be it from Harry to want to feel any sort of sympathy for Malfoy, but what was he supposed to do in a situation like this? He felt a weird sense of emotional panic, unable to deny that there was something to the sight of her sobbing that made him put aside every petty ugliness in their past to step forward and ask the one thing it seemed Darcy really needed someone to ask.
"What's wrong?"
"Like you care!" she shouted. She bared her teeth to him, still angry and territorial even when it seemed like an absolute embarrassment to be putting on airs like this. It was a pose, and not a particularly convincing once. "You turned me into this, used me, threw me away to run back. For you, I'm sure it was unf. Get your dick wet, humiliate me. Say lots of things to make yourself feel like a big man. But me? I had to run back to my family telling them I failed, and now my father has disowned me. My two closest friends are likely to rape me if I'm alone with them again, and the girl I loved won't even call me by my name because she's afraid talking to me will make people think she's gay! I've lost the respect of everybody in the Slytherin house and failed in the only thing I had to do to prove to the Dark Lord that I was worthy!"
Harry stood over her, and Darcy flung forward. buried her face against his stomach, pounding her fists down against his chest. This was all his fault. Darcy believed it and Harry knew she did, so he let her work her anger out, let her slam her hands down against his chest and struggle her way through the volatile emotions taking her.
She continued, "I don't even have a room to sleep in now, because the girls who should be helping me through this are calling me your 'used goods' and stink bombing my bed because they don't want me there. I have nowhere else to go, and nobody who will help me, so I'm here to beg for fucking mercy from you of all people! Go on, fuck my mouth right here. Drag me out into the common room and rail my pussy while you show off to your friends how fucking great you are. I don't care. Just give me somewhere to rest my head and I won't fight it anymore. I'm your bitch, right? Your fucking property? Use me like it. If everybody else thinks I'm so useless, then I must really only be something for you to stick your cock into. So go on. Have me. Use my tears as lube, Potter. There's no point in pretending I'm worth anything else."
Her voice was a strained, painful screech now. Darcy was awash in the most hopeless and volatile emotions Harry could have ever imagined. He had no idea what to do here, but he felt bad for Darcy. He felt bad for Darcy in the way he would have felt bad for a normal person. One who hadn't insulted and attacked him, who treated him like shit. Who, by her own confessions, seemed to have challenged him to that duel under the orders of a wizard who wanted him dead. Every single thing Darcy had ever done to Harry made this seem simple to him, and she was right. He owned her now, and he could have easily dragged her by the hair and used her in front of everyone, called her a victory prize, rallied the morale of the Gryffindor house by railing Malfoy's big ass in front of them. That was how he'd used her when he won. Taunted her in a gloating victory lap while indulging in a body he now by all rights owned. Now he could do it even harder and let everyone behold his dominance.
But he couldn't.
Harry fell to his knees in front of Darcy, he put his arms around her, and he buried her face into his neck. And Darcy wanted so badly to push him away, slap him, and tell him she didn't want his pity, that she wanted him to put her through every grueling humiliation she deserved. But instead, she put her arms around him, she cried, and she accepted the warmth of the only person in this world who seemed willing to treat her like she was one too.
每周推薦票狀態
-- 推薦票
榜單 
-- 推薦票