Bag of Depravity
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Evening the Odds: Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2025-02-28 08:05:37 +0000 UTCA/N: I'm testing out longer chapters for this story. 4.5k to 7k, which is significantly longer than any of my other stories. I might do a poll about it soon, to see what people think (Pros being that much more happens each chapter; cons being that it takes me at least two days to write one chapter).
Chapter 2
Enter: Grimmauld
Hecate sipped wine from a fancy gold goblet, sitting opposite me across a wooden table. She hadn’t offered me a cup, and I didn’t ask.
“So… This seems serious,” I said.
Hecate sipped her sour drink. “It’s a matter of life and death.”
“Right. Don’t you think we could’ve found a better place for this conversation, then?”
Hecate looked to the right, where the water of the Roman bath was steaming. Reyna lay there with her head resting on the lip, sound asleep. I was still completely nude as I sat across from the goddess, although I’d been able to dry myself off with a thought.
“Your friend will not wake up in time to overhear us,” Hecate said. “Or is it your state of dress that you find embarrassing?”
She snapped her fingers. Clothes a lot like the ones she was wearing — robes — formed around my body.
I pulled on the loose fabric. “I think I find these more embarrassing than being naked.”
“Enough. We’re wasting time.”
I shrugged, showing she should go on. Even my smart mouth knew when to stop before really pissing off an immortal. Most of the time anyway. Hey, I was getting better alright?
“In Ancient Greece the seeds were sown, but it began in Rome,” Hecate said. “I had children. Over time, those children had children of their own. My blood spread. Diluted though it became, it still brought certain effects. My descendants were not demigods in the traditional sense, hardly legacies in truth, but each still held a special connection to the Mist. Gradually, they began finding each other, sharing the secrets they learned. As generations passed their knowledge grew, and with it, their powers.”
“You’re saying you’ve got a secret society of legacies running around with super-special powers, and they never got involved in either of the wars we’ve had?”
“That is not their way,” Hecate said. “They hide themselves from mortals and do not venture out of their world. They are ignorant. Bar a select few, they know not their true origin, nor how they fit into a world of gods and monsters. And that is how I plan to keep them. They are my secret.”
Hecate sipped her wine. Reyna was snoring softly. Whatever spell Hecate used to keep her asleep, it seemed to be bringing pleasant dreams.
“So who’s threatening them?” I asked.
Hecate paused. She set her goblet down slowly.
“I do not believe I mentioned a threat,” she said.
“Not yet. But after doing enough favors you start to get the gist of things pretty fast. You called these people your secret. If you want to keep them separate from demigods, but you’re still telling me all of this, that means there’s something else you’re even more worried about. Something that scares you more than your secret getting out.”
Suddenly, the collar of the robes she’d put me in tightened like there was a hand at my throat.
“I do not get scared,” Hecate said.
“Wrong word I guess. What’s irritating you?”
Hecate watched, searching my face for something before she waved her hand. My collar let go of my neck. Gods are funny sometimes. They get worked up over the smallest things, and they’re always looking for ways to make mortals fear them. It’s best to just go along with it. That’s why I tried to be covert as I lowered my hand that had risen under the table, removing my thumb from the cap of a ballpoint pen.
“They call themselves wizards and witches,” Hecate said. “They wield their power with wands, artefacts uniquely suited to bending the Mist. They aren’t even aware that the Mist exists. They think it’s purely their own work that keeps them hidden from mortals. Do not be fooled by how weak their divine blood is; their power can be both great and terrible.”
“Your secret club has moves. Gotcha.”
“The spells they wield are unlike anything you have seen. With their wands and incantations, they can reshape the world itself. The place you will be going is called Hogwarts—”
“Seriously? Are you sure you don’t want to send me to Frogpimple instead?”
“—and it is one of the greatest schools for their kind.”
I frowned. “I feel like I should warn you… Schools and I don’t have the greatest history together.”
“Irrelevant. You need only keep from getting kicked out for the next year. They have a much higher tolerance for explosions than mortal schools, so even you should be able to manage.”
I tried to figure out if she was joking, but Hecate’s face was completely serious. I guess that counted as a vote of confidence, even if it was basically saying ‘Even you couldn't screw this up!’
“Your role is simple,” Hecate said. “You will be protecting this boy.”
A shimmer appeared in the air behind her of a boy that looked a lot like me. The boy in the image turned to face us as if part of a video. His black hair was slightly less windswept than mine, he had darker green eyes, and wide-rimmed spectacles sat across his face. On his forehead, a jagged scar shaped like a lightning bolt stabbed toward the bridge of his nose.
“Don’t let Zeus see him,” I said. “He might use his Master Bolt for copyright infringement.”
“This is Harry Potter,” Hecate said, ignoring me completely. “Before his first birthday, he was marked by the Fates, who bound him to another soul. On that day he became the mortal enemy of the most dangerous wizard in the world. His life has been full of near-escapes ever since.”
I didn’t say anything, just looked at the moving image of the boy around my age.
“The Fates have spoken,” Hecate said. “There is no diverting the clash that will come between Harry Potter and his enemy, Lord Voldemort.” She leaned over the table. “These legacies are my pride and joy, however. Voldemort’s reign of terror is ripping them apart. I will not stand by and lose everything to a one-sided bloodbath while the Fates play their games. I plan to even the odds. And you, Perseus, are my way of doing that.”
She straightened. As she spoke, her voice had grown more impassioned, although it was hard to notice considering how monotone the goddess of magic usually sounded. Now, though, she was back to her usual impassive look.
“Know that this will be dangerous should you accept—”
“I accept.”
Hecate stopped.
“I haven’t mentioned any kind of payment for this task,” she said. “Even for you, it will be grueling and brutal. You may very well fail. Yet you sit here and agree before the words have fully left my mouth. Why?”
“I told you right? Jobs like this are what I’ve spent the last two years doing. I’m not suddenly going to get scared now.” My smile faded. “Besides, I wouldn’t be here today if I didn’t get a whole lot of help. It’s only right for me to return the favor.”
I probably sounded pretty noble. But under the table, my hands were twitching. I hadn’t encountered anything this new since a run-in with Egyptian Magicians. This was a whole different kind of challenge to overcome. I couldn't deny there was a thrill to that.
“So when do we start?” I asked.
Hecate set down her cup, and I saw it had been drained of its last bit of wine.
“Start?” she said. “We’ve already started.”
Without my chair moving I felt like I fell off of it. There was the weirdest sensation, like my whole body was being crammed inside a gutter drain and dripping out the other side. The last I saw of the bath was Reyna snoring peacefully, and then it was all gone.
I gasped for air, falling to my knees. It took me a few seconds to realize I could fall to my knees. On solid ground, even. Patting down my body, I couldn’t help glancing at Hecate.
The goddess was completely unbothered. She stood with her back straight and her hands at her side, not a hair out of place.
“They call that Apparition,” she said. “Trained wizards use it as a means of transportation, not unlike mortals and their cars.”
“They do that by choice?” I asked, horrified.
“Daily,” Hecate said. “I have heard you grow accustomed to the feeling. Wizards have to be touching someone in order to Apparate with them, but you will find I am not bound by so many limitations.
I stood up. My knees were a little wobbly, like I’d just taken a bus ride down the world’s curviest road with my eyes closed.
We’d appeared outside. It looked like London, based on how many unpainted brick houses I could see, and the air was chilly. I’d guess it was evening here, but no later than nine P.M.
No matter where I looked, I couldn’t see anything but an ordinary mortal neighborhood. The strangest thing was a skipped address: number eleven jumped straight to number thirteen.
“There is a house there,” Hecate said.
The houses in front of us pulled apart, and directly in between them number twelve appeared like a glitch in reality. This house gave off a completely different atmosphere— it was dark, almost black, and stunk like a monster nest.
Pushing aside the fact that I’d just watched a house pop out of thin air (the Mist had done crazier things before) I pointed at the front door. “You’re sure the good guys live there?”
“Good?” Hecate tilted her head. “I do not understand.”
“The ones who aren’t killing off hundreds of wizards,” I clarified.
Sometimes, you had to remember that our ideas of morality didn’t really exist for the gods.
“This is not Voldemort’s lair.” Hecate walked forward, assuming I would follow. “We are here to speak with the headmaster of Hogwarts.”
“He lives here?”
“Off and on.”
As we climbed the steps I felt something strange. It was like a warm breeze, which couldn’t be right on a cold night like this one. Hecate smirked victoriously, then turned to me.
“With the headmaster’s introduction, it will be straightforward to get you into Hogwarts without arousing suspicion. Hogwarts begins instruction at fourteen, which will make you a sixth year. The same as Harry Potter.”
“Fourteen? Doesn’t that seem late?”
“It’s better than the alternative,” Hecate said. That didn’t really clarify anything for me, but we had already reached the door.
It didn’t have a handle, just a knocker shaped like a silver serpent. But as soon as Hecate got close the door opened on its own.
“Come,” she said to me.
We walked inside.
The house was a weird mix of derelict and lived-in. The air was thick and musty. It felt like there should be mold growing in the corners, but they looked strangely clean. It smelled like the house of a bed-ridden old lady.
“Who are you?!” shrieked a voice. “Intruders! My hallway is sullied! Oh why is my hallway always being sullied?”
I looked around to see who was talking, but there was nobody there. It was just Hecate and I. Finally, my eyes fell on the painting hung in front of the door.
It was looking back at me.
“Who are you?” demanded a two-dimensional woman with black hair and mean eyes. “State your families right now— Mmph!”
Hecate had waved her hand. I’ve never pitied a picture before, but this one I felt a little bad for. Her mouth disappeared like it’d been rubbed away with a magic eraser. She was still screaming. It was just muted without a mouth to use.
“Come along,” Hecate told me.
I gave the portrait an encouraging smile as we passed, but that only made her try to scream harder.
We passed the entrance to a dim dining room. Hecate walked through the house like it was her own. Gods don’t really have a sense of shame, so that didn’t surprise me at all.
“So… Did you let them know we were coming?” I asked.
“Why would I?” Hecate asked.
“Who goes there?”
I groaned as someone appeared on the stairs, aiming a stick of wood at us.
“How’d you get in— here?”
The last word was nothing but a squeak. It was a girl in her twenties with the brightest pink hair I’d ever seen. She was in such a rush to cut us off that she tripped on the final stair, sprawling onto her stomach.
“You alright?” I asked. Hecate just watched.
The girl shot up, glaring. She pointed her stick at us again. That was probably one of those wands Hecate talked about. It looked exactly how you’d picture a magic wand— not like the boomerang-shaped weapons Egyptian magicians slung around.
“You really want to put that down,” I said, glancing at Hecate who luckily looked unbothered.
“Are you threatening me?”
“No! It’s more like… A warning?”
She didn’t listen. She moved her wand, starting to shout something in latin.
“It’s alright, Nymphadora.”
Someone else had appeared on the stairs. This had to be that headmaster Hecate talked about. He just looked like a wizard. All the parts were there— a regal purple robe, a suitably wise beard that reached his stomach, and half-moon spectacles that rested underneath his eyes. His sleeves were so long that it was impossible to see his hands. I wondered if his wand was out, just hidden from our view.
“Dumbledore, you know these two?” asked the pink-haired girl.
“I know one of them,” said the old man.
Dumbledore descended the stairs. He glanced at me for a moment, then looked at Hecate. His eyes gleamed.
“Hello Grandmother,” he said.
“Still calling me that, I see,” Hecate said.
“Much has changed. But you, of course, have not. I don’t see why my term of address should have changed then.”
The pink-haired girl was looking between them with a bewildered expression. She seemed more confused than I was, which made me happy. Usually, it’s my job to be the one looking lost.
“Grandmother?” the girl said.
“It’s a bit further removed than that in truth,” Dumbledore said. “But to speak what she really is would take far too long.” He paused. “I was not sure I would see you again, before I passed.”
“I see,” Hecate said.
“It makes me glad…” I thought the old guy was going to cry for a second, but he just gave her a sad smile. “You have something you want, then. There are rooms upstairs to discuss this. You’ve always valued discretion.”
Hecate walked past him, climbing the stairs. “That will suffice.”
She didn’t tell me to follow her, so I didn’t. The old guy climbed the stairs after her. Watching the two of them felt like watching family; estranged family, but family all the same.
“Nymphadora, would you please keep our other guest company?” Dumbledore said. “I have no idea how long this might take.”
“Huh? Me—?”
Dumbledore was already gone.
Suddenly it was just the two of us, standing alone in a hallway decorated with some kind of shrunken heads. I scratched the back of my head, feeling like I’d just been left to play with the neighbor’s kid.
“So… Nymphadora, right?”
“Tonks,” she said stiffly.
“Tonks. Got it. I like your stick.”
Her glare softened. Now, she just looked incredulous.
“It’s a very nice stick,” I said.
O-O-O
If you’re ever in the market for an icebreaker, here’s a surprisingly good one: clearing out a villain’s attic.
Alright, I didn’t actually know if it belonged to a villain. It definitely looked like it did, though. Who else keeps boxes of blood-stained knives, jars of pickled fingers, and books on the many uses of orphan hair and other ‘similarly accessible’ ingredients? I just know that after going through a single one of those boxes with someone, it was hard not to talk to them like an old friend.
“I thought about asking earlier, but why are we doing this?” I asked, lifting a box and trying to ignore the way I could feel something moving inside.
Tonks was sorting things out from boxes I’d already moved. After her display on the stairs, I didn’t trust her not to spill the contents across the floor if she tried carrying them herself.
“We took this place over from my family on my mother’s side,” Tonks said. “As you can tell, they weren’t nice people. Kept all sorts of nasty things tucked away.”
I set the next box down. “Then why use their house?”
“It’s the best defended place in the country outside of Hogwarts. Nothing can get inside unless we let them in. The last owner was as paranoid as you can get, see, and set up all kinds of wards and curses to surprise anyone breaking in.”
I remembered the warm breeze as we climbed the stairs. That was probably supposed to feel a whole lot worse… But I had Hecate at my side to brush it off like nothing.
“That’s how it’s supposed to be, at least,” Tonks said, glancing at me. “Who is that woman?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I said.”
“Try me.”
“The immortal goddess of magic from Ancient Greece.”
“You know, you could’ve tried a little harder if you were going to come up with something,” Tonks said.
I shrugged. “She’s kind of like my guardian, I guess. We’re here because I’m supposed to transfer into Hogwarts this year. Dumbledore invited her to talk it over.”
“I thought Hogwarts didn’t take transfer students.”
“Beats me. But she seems to think they will, if it’s me.”
A nasally voice spoke before Tonks could. “Do you come from a good family, Boy?”
That was another thing about this attic: it was absolutely full of those weird talking paintings like the one at the front door. Tonks said they used to be spread around the house, but they’d been moved up to the attic for being annoying. Most of the portraits were sleeping soundly, but this one was wide awake.
He had a goatee like Grover, but this guy’s was shaved perfectly straight, the complete opposite of my best friend’s wild facial hair. He was obviously related to the woman by the door. He had the same dark hair and facial features. His eyes looked shifty, like a son of Hermes.
“I think my family’s pretty good, yeah.”
“I’m not asking about them personally,” the portrait snapped. “I mean, are they of good pedigree?”
I scratched my head. “Sorry. My mom’s not a dog breeder.”
“Great.” The portrait groaned. “Another Muggle obsessed fool. Just what this house needed.”
“Shove it, Phineas,” Tonks said, which must’ve been the portrait's name. “Just let us work.”
She was almost finished sorting a box of what looked like candles made with human skin. She sorted them into two piles. The only difference I could notice was that one smelled like rotten eggs, and the other smelled like leather.
“Incendio,” Tonks said, jabbing her wand.
The pile that smelled like rotten eggs caught fire. They burned to a crisp, Tonks extinguishing the flames once they’d completely burned. She placed the leather-smelling pile back in the box and moved on to the next container.
“Do you even fathom the value of what you just so carelessly destroyed?” Phineas asked. “If used properly, a single one of those could have placed a curse deadly enough to kill the scion of a rival house. But no, you want to treat them as kindling.”
“I’m sure I’ll regret it the next time I enter a feud with some pureblood ponce,” Tonks said.
She tried to get the lid off the next box, only to find it stuck fast. She lifted her wand to get it open, but I bent down before she could, prying it off for her. She gave me a grateful nod.
“You can do magic, right?” I asked. “What does it look like?”
“What does it look like?” muttered Phineas. “What does magic look like? By Merlin, what have they brought into my home?”
Tonks looked like she was thinking a less offensive version of the same thing.
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Eighteen. I’ll be nineteen in a couple of weeks.”
“That would make you a sixth year at Hogwarts. You should know a good amount of charms by that age.”
I rubbed my chin. “I mean, I think my looks are pretty good.
“No, magic charms!” Tonks said. “Spells, I mean. Can’t you do them yourself?”
“You need a wand for that, right?”
“You mean you don’t— But you have a wand! It’s in your right pocket!”
I stuck my hand inside, but all that I pulled out was a ballpoint pen. I held it out, making Tonks frowned.
“Why’d you think I had a wand?” I asked.
“Everyone has one.” She looked between me and the pen. “When I tried to curse you in the hallway, I was sure your hand went to your pocket. I was sure!”
“I guess I panicked,” I said. “A pen is better than being empty-handed, right?”
I slipped the pen away. I didn’t really believe Hecate when she implied this place was the headquarters of some kind of elite group. But Tonks was seriously well-trained if she was able to notice small details like that.
“Are you sure you’re going to be alright at Hogwarts?” Tonks asked.
“That’s not an ominous question at all.”
“Well, no offense, but you kind of seem like a Muggle.” She frowned. “Actually, not exactly. A Muggle should be freaking out a lot more in your place. But if you’re jumping into Hogwarts as a sixth year, they’ll expect you to take N.E.W.T. classes.”
That sounded like something I’d be good at. In general, I was a natural when it came to amphibians.
She probably didn’t mean literal newts, though, as disappointing as that was. A magic school would teach magic. I could see why she was worried, considering how clueless I was and all. But still…
“It’ll be fine. I’m not going there to learn anyway. Plus, I’ve got pretty thick skin for disappointing teachers.”
Tonks shrugged. As long as you’re not worried, she seemed to say.
She turned back to the box I helped her open. It was nearly empty, which was somehow scarier than the one full of cursed flesh-candles.
The only thing inside was a purple potion with an engraved silver stopper. It was sitting on a thin purple cushion, just waiting to be plucked out.
“Think it’s cursed?” I asked.
“I can’t find anything wrong with it,” Tonks said.
She prodded the air with her wand a few times. Whatever she found convinced her to use her hands. She lifted the glass, looking at the ominous purple potions sloshing inside.
“Hmmmm.” She stood up, holding the potion higher to look at it in the light from the candles on the walls.
“BOOO!”
Both of us jumped. Phineas, who had gone quiet and pretended to go back to sleep, shouted suddenly. I grabbed Riptide without thinking, while Tonks tried to step back.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of things. Tonks’s clumsiness struck again, combined with bad luck— her foot came down on the ashes of the cursed objects she’d burned. It slipped out from under her. Tonks sprawled on her back, the silver stopper coming out when she hit the ground. Purple potion spilled all over her face, with some even ending up in her mouth.
I knelt and helped her sit up as she coughed. On the wall, Phineas was chortling.
“Oh—! And then you—! It’s just— Oh it’s all far too funny!”
I helped Tonks stand. She looked a little bit like a wet cat, with her short pink hair matted down. Maybe the potion was some kind of magic hair dye, because I swore I saw her hair go from bright pink to a kind of deep purple.
“Very funny,” I told the portrait.
“Isn’t it just?” Phineas said. “And you don’t even know the funniest part yet.”
“What are you—”
Tonks jumped on me.
We crashed to the floor, drops of potion flying off of her. I got my forearm across her neck, holding her back. She didn’t care. She kept trying to force her face forward. Her eyes were closed and her tongue was out. A little bit of leftover potion dripped off her tongue, falling toward my face, but I stopped its descent and sent it flying away with a thought. I wasn’t taking chances with whatever had been inside that vial.
“You!” I growled at the portrait. “This is your fault!”
“Thank you,” said Phineas. “I would’ve been disappointed if you didn’t give me my due credit. By the way, are you sure you want to be doing that?”
“Doing what?” I growled.
Tonks was acting like a zombie. She wasn’t in her right mind. Even weirder, her body was starting to change proportions. Not only did her muscles get slightly bigger, her assets ballooned up. I could hear her bra straining to its breaking point underneath her robes. That’s a pretty difficult distraction to ignore.
Still, minus her magic she was just an ordinary girl. I quickly rolled us over, pinning her to the floor. She kept thrashing, but there was no chance of her overpowering me.
“You’re stopping her,” Phineas noted. “Magical accidents can have all kinds of nasty side effects. Why, they can even be deadly! Nice position there, by the way. Would you mind scooting her to the side a bit? I’m this close to seeing down her shirt.”
He bent down in his frame, leering at Tonks. I shifted her in the opposite direction, ruining his view.
“You know what that potion was.”
“Maybe I do,” Phineas said. “Maybe I even know how to help her. The question is, do you have what it takes to follow through?”
“If you don’t give me a straight answer in the next thirty seconds, I’ll sink your portrait to the bottom of the English channel. We’ll see how crabs and eels appreciate your ‘comedy.’”
He just smirked.
“It was a lust potion!” he said. “One of the highest caliber, too! We used to use them to ruin marriages. Slip a drop to a pureblood daughter, and the next thing you know she’s jumped a servant’s bones and tossed away her maidenhood. So many alliances went down in flames that way. Ah, the good old days.”
“How do I fix Tonks?” I demanded.
“There is no ‘fixing’ her,” Phineas said giddily. “She’ll keep getting more worked up until she gets what she wants, or… she dies.” He laughed. “There is no antidote, and the only cure is a man’s seed! You’re eighteen, you said. Have you ever touched a woman? Try not to freeze now!”
He laughed harder, up until he heard the sound of a zipper. Then, it was my turn to laugh.
“What a relief. I was worried there for a second. I thought it would be something bad!”
Between getting a bit of action and dying, I knew which one Tonks would prefer. Standing there with my fly open, I didn’t have to wait long.
As soon as I released her Tonks launched herself up. Her hands clawed at my crotch, pulling my pants down to my knees. When they got to my boxers, she hesitated for a second to rub her face on the musky cotton. This potion was a hell of a drug.
Finally, she freed what she was really after. It bounced into sight, smacking her on the forehead. She craned her neck back to look all the way up at the tip.
“Go on,” I said. “Your medicine is right there.”
She opened up her mouth and used both hands to drag my cock down, inserting it between her lips.
I don’t know if it was a side effect of the potion or one of Tonks’s skills, but there was absolutely zero gag reflex as she slid down my shaft. Her button nose pushed all the way to my groin, pressing itself flat as I felt my head brush her tonsils. Tonks hollowed her cheeks as she sucked, pulling her lips up to my tip before sliding back down.
Her hands worked on the clasp of her robes. She undid it, loosening them, but they didn’t slide off at first— her breasts really had gotten bigger, and the collar got stuck on her cleavage. Any doubts that Tonks was changing her body disappeared when her boobs went from massive mounds to petite handfuls just long enough to let her robes fall away, then grew again. She reached around to her back, fiddling with the clasp of her bra.
I looked at Phineas’s portrait. The man had gone wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He’d shoved a hand inside of his own robes, leering at Tonks’s breasts as he waited for them to appear.
“Bye-bye,” I said.
“Wait, just one teeny peek—!”
I uncapped Riptide. Using the bronze sword, I slashed the middle of Phineas’s portrait, slicing a gash straight through the middle. The tw0-dimensional man dove out of frame. I’m not sure what happened to him after that, but he didn’t come back.
The potion was so potent that Tonks didn’t question the three-foot sword that appeared in my hand. I’m not sure she even noticed. I replaced the cap and tossed away the pen, knowing it would reappear in my pocket later anyway… you know, once my pants were back on.
Tonks’s bra came off, letting her tata’s breath. Her nipples and areolas were the same shade of pink, like fresh strawberry ice cream. Her breasts grew and grew, until they weighed down her slender spine. Tonks didn’t care. She went on gulping down my meat, bobbing her head relentlessly. I groaned, both from her tight wet throat and from the feeling of her bright, stiff nipples grazing my skin.
“Tonks, I know you can’t talk right now… Because of the potion, not just because your mouth is busy, but… sorry about this.”
I grabbed her short hair, which was now a mix of pinks and purples. My fingers fanned out along her scalp, getting a good grip.
“I’ve got to make sure you get your medicine,” I said.
Then I pushed.
Her nose flattened on my groin again. I let out a throaty moan. I could actually feel the head of my cock being pushed down by the curvature or her throat, and although I wasn’t sure what that would feel like for her, it felt like Elyseum on my end.
I held her there, fastened down far too tight to breathe. Her mouth was plugged and her nostrils could draw in nothing but my musky scent. Neither of us moved, but I could feel her throat spasming around me.
The room got quiet. Phineas had been chased off, and the loud slurping of Tonks sucking had been brought to a temporary halt. The only sound was my heavy breathing. I felt Tonks start to move.
Her hair grew out, giving me something extra to hold her by. She started to twist her head, but instead of trying to force her way free or draw in a breath, she was using it to lick my shaft. She had to be running out of air, yet her only concern was tracing my popping veins with her tongue. I growled as I emptied my balls.
It poured down her throat like a creamy cascade, bypassing her mouth completely. I made sure to pour as much as I could into her before grabbing fistfuls of her now shoulder-length pink hair, pulling her back. Tonks gasped as soon as she could. A bubble formed underneath her nostril, and I couldn’t tell if it was snot or semen.
“Tonks?” I asked hesitantly. “Feeling better?”
“Moar!” she grunted like a zombie.
You know, being the good guy that I am, I can’t ignore a heartfelt plea like that.
I helped Tonks stand by squeezing her shoulders and lifting her up. The bottom of her robes fell away so that she was in nothing but panties. Her thighs suddenly shrunk, changing her proportions long enough for her panties to slide off. Then her legs thickened again, adding a little bit of extra meat for me to grab onto.
Tonks quickly repaid the favor of helping her stand up by lifting my shirt off. I didn’t have any nifty shapeshifter tricks, but I managed to kick off the pants and boxers that had been pulled down to my knees. It wasn’t graceful but it got the job done.
“You’re gorgeous,” I said.
I should’ve realized it earlier, but the punk aesthetic and our tense first meeting had thrown me off. Tonks’s face was gorgeous, perfectly symmetrical with kickass dimples when she smiled. I guess when you can choose how you look, it’s inevitable that you end up being a knockout.
Add onto that the perfect figure she’d created, with breasts almost too big for her frame, crescent-shaped hips, and thick lower body, and you were left with one hell of a woman.
“You’re… pretty good too,” she muttered.
I could see her eyes roving me, eating up my figure the way I was staring at hers. Sick of waiting, I wrapped her in my arms.
One snaked around her upper back, pressing into her sharp shoulder blades. The other went below the waist, grabbing her butt. My fingers squeezed one cheek, but they got dangerously close to the crack, brushing something that made Tonks release a brief noise and wiggle into my grip.
I picked her up that way. Her legs snuck around my hips, squeezing me from behind. I walked us over to the wall. Tonks’s back hit Phineas’s empty portrait frame.
My hands slid onto her hips. I could feel her unabashedly groping my back, fingernails leaving soft red lines across my skin. Smirking, I gave her a thrust.
I didn’t push myself inside of her, though. Instead, I let my cock slide up her stomach as my hips hit her thighs.
Tonks looked down, staring at how far up my dick had moved, reaching her belly button and then some.
“Ready?” I asked.
She swallowed. Then she nodded.
I drew my hips back. I could feel Tonks’s fingers squeezing my back, digging in sharply. My tip prodded her entrance, beginning to part the thick pink pussy lips.
At the last second, I leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “I know that the potion wore off.”
Tonks’s cheeks turned bright pink. “Wha—!”
My dick stretched her open.
Whatever she wanted to say was replaced by a deep moan. That quickly changed to squeaky moans as I started thrusting. Squeezing her hips, I held her in place, striking the same place deep inside her over and over again.
“How— How— How’d you know?” Tonks gasped.
“I didn’t,” I admitted. “But now I do after seeing your reaction. I just thought it was strange. After swallowing that much cum, it was still active? It didn’t seem right. And then there was the fact that you could suddenly talk again.”
Tonks blushed harder as she continued moaning and clenching around my cock. She seemed more embarrassed about being caught lying than about the lewd noises she was letting out.
I leaned forward again, nibbling her earlobe. I timed it to when my dick hit her deepest parts. Tonks screamed. Her hips changed shape, growing an extra layer of fat to help me grip them. Her hair was beginning to change length and color as she lost control of her appearance.
“You now,” I whispered in her ear, “if this was all you wanted, you could’ve asked. I don’t tell pretty girls no very often.”
It had happened a few times over these last two years… but usually I was on board for a healthy amount of fun. It didn’t matter if it was nature spirits I’d helped, goddesses curious what the hero of Olympus tasted like, or even the odd Praetor here and there. I liked those kinds of arrangements. They were fun and ended fast.
Tonks took a shuddery breath.
“I didn’t know I wanted it — Merlin! — until I had this thing halfway down my neck!”
I smirked. I slid down, leaving her ear behind to bite Tonks’s neck. Each time my teeth came down they left a reddish bruise. Her hands slid up my neck, digging into my hair.
“Ohhh,” Tonks moaned. “Oh!”
Her hair flashed a violent shade of chartreuse as she orgasmed hard enough to shake her entire body. At first her legs tightened around me, then her whole body went slack. She looked exhausted.
“Phineas is the one who caused all of this…”
Exhausted, Tonks still mustered the energy to shoot me a curious look.
I had one of my stupid ideas again. I get a lot of those, and for some reason most of them work. Sometimes they’re something like feeding an invulnerable lion astronaut food, and sometimes they’re something like this.
I stepped back, letting go of Tonks, and her slack body slid down the wall as she lost her grip on me. She ended up at the perfect height to watch my balls tighten. I planted my palms on the wall, aiming my orgasm so that it splattered across the cut canvas Phineas fled from.
My cum dripped down it, staining the portrait probably permanently. Looking up at the white streaks, Tonks seemed torn between wanting to laugh or trying to lick up any excess cum she could get her tongue to.
“What are the odds he tries coming back to this?” I asked.
“I don’t know…” Tonks said. “But I’m thinking about moving it into my bedroom, just so I can be there to see it if he does.”
Comments
Ryan
Yeah this'll be a good one
