This choice: "Should Draco also...?" Voldemort asked. "No! Not Draco!" Narcissa blurted out. • Go Back...Chapter #5"Should Draco also...?" Voldemort asked... by: Mr. George   "Should Draco also...?" Voldemort asked. "No! Not Draco! Narcissa blurted out. "Pwease my word, pwease..." Lucy lush lips forced a lewdly girlish and provocative lisp on her. Behind those vapid eyes, that fulsome bust, those child-bearing hips it was still Lucius who fought for dominance. Battling wave after wave of hormones, as she fought to keep her mind, and intellect over the lusty, needy, mewling and whimpering Lucy.
"Punish me..." she warbled, beating her clenched fist deep in her cleavage. It bounced impressively, at each impact.
"I am." Lord Voldemort answered, a cruel smile splitting his face in delight. Draco warbled briefly as the femmentor attached to his cock. He couldn't break free, once it latched on. He felt the ghostly, ghastly mouth wrapped tight around his member in an unbreakable liplock. Struggling to much felt like it would be ripped off all the sooner...
This time it was deliberately slow in absorbing Draco's masculinity. Each gulping ripple causing him to gasp and writhe. Draco was stuck at a modest A-cup after several minutes, the sweat beading on his forehead. Only the slightest hint of femininity that shifted as he thrashed his shoulders from side to side. Only the most subtlest lengthening of his hair, that brushed against his shoulders. Not as long as his father's even before her transformation. But, it was unsettlingly so for Draco, the promise of much worse to follow. He heard the dejected sobbing of his mother, the sensual murmuring of his father's new voice, as she mewled and begged for mercy.
- - - - -
The femmentor was still latched on, fifteen minutes later. Draco's bust a little less subtle, capable of being bound down and hidden, but a glance to luscious Lucy promised so much worse to come.
It was another five minutes before she felt and heard the cracking of her hips. Beneath that supple smooth layer, her pelvis was now wider. A definite waist was clear, no longer quite so masculine. A slight hour-glass was developing.
Cradling her bust, Draco tried to force her bust flat. Pressing it urgently back, in a feeble attempt to make a more familiar chest. But, the prickling, aching need only intensified as her nips were squeezed, and tweaked. The accidental touches and maulings ensuring she was hot and horny despite attempting to deny the transformation.
After half-an-hour, Narcissa was sobbing silently, her pleas falling on deaf ears, or indifferent to her begging. It only seemed to intensify Voldemort's pleasure in the torment.
Draco had turned into a fine woman, generously proportioned, and with an attractive hourglass figure. Her nips now visible beneath the taut fabric. Her skirt too strained to contain her hips and rump, the tailoring not made for such a seductive figure.
There was a flicker of hope in her eyes that it was now possible she could be punished enough. No trace remained of his face, only the familiar platinum blonde hair, that framed her erotic features.
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Draco was invisible behind those fluttering lashes, the relentless panting and mewling was just background noise. The too long lashes that made her innocent eyes look even wider were in constant motion. A tongue that felt several inches longer, explored those plush fuller lips. They were impossibly sensitive and her tongue too was agile... too agile. She couldn't help suppress the lewd thoughts that surfaced. Draco's imagination was too active, and the provocation too clear. She never expected to be behind those naive eyes, or to hear the gasping groan come from her own lips, or sound so erotic. Hell! Even now, she recalled punishing Crabbe and Goyle with their feminine disguises. She felt a giddy jealousy and a voyeuristic rush to imagine submitting to them. The petty vengeance they'd enact... Worse! How much she feared she'd enjoy it!
The torture she endured threatened her sanity, after three or four hours, Draco was transformed beyond recognition. The femmentor finally satisfied it detached, drifting backwards as Draco took in the damage. Her clothes were part of the humiliation, too brief, and too sparkly. It was tailored to just hide the treasures they covered, while clinging as if sprayed on.
She was even lusher than her former father. A sense of pride battled with embarassment, her bust was so far beyond the alphabet it all had to be custom made.
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The femmentor retreated to Voldemort's side. He petted the vile creature as if it were a favoured pet. "Know that Lord Voldemort shows no mercy to the weak, and is unswayed by their pleas."
Even now a snarl of contempt for all the Malfoys was crystal clear.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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