This choice: Wear the man, harry's been through worse • Go Back...Chapter #6A gentlemanly decision by: theskin   "That's very nice of you Hermione, but really, it's fine. It's not like I've been using my wand all that much anyways since we're always living in close quarters. And having one, I don't know that I'd recommend the experience" at that, Hermione stifled a laugh "I mean it's nice and all but at the end of the day, it's still a dangling bit"
Harry was glad he'd made Hermione laugh. The past few months had been grim, somehow the levity of the situation was breaking a sort of spell cast over them. He'd missed her laugh.
"I won't comment on you calling it your wand" she said with a smile. "Thank you Harry" she added with a giddiness he hadn't heard for a long time. "I'll go get changed" and at that, she scooped up the skin and clothes of the muscle-bound woman and went to the nearby bathroom.
Harry smiled, faintly to himself. One day, when they were old enough to drink, maybe he'd tell his kids the story. He hoped he could live through this and have kids.
Sighing, he took hold of the skin of "Saunders". After undressing himself, he slipped a wiry, hairy leg down the leg hole of the skin. He was surprised to feel dainty feet at the other end, encased in a soft material. As feeling arrived in one leg, then another, he knew the skin underneath the garment to be smooth and spotless. As he reached up his thighs, the feeling of smoothness was making him feel some sort of way. His wand was going through some sort of growth spurt at the moment.
Thinking it better to rip the proverbial band-aid in one fell swoop, he pulled up the crotch to his waist. The first sensation he felt, however, was not in the front, but in the back. They had not seen it, under the man's cloak or deflated, but the man had Junk in the Trunk. Harry felt his butt become smooth and jiggly. Not an unpleasant feeling. Jiggling it out for reasons he was unable to fully explain, he thought that even the Patil sisters did not have such a generous bosom.
At the thought of bosoms, his and hers, his new wand tried to break free from the cage. At that, it seemed to react. A soft push, like that of a firm but gentle hand, was restraining his rise. It went up in strength until Harry felt as if his member was held in a tiny wrist. He felt cold. Without thinking much of it, instead of his sweaty boxers (a week on the run had not improved on their hormonal young adult smell) he pulled up the soft panties to his waist. The fabric felt wonderful on his new pert butt, and something even better on his member. He bit down his lip in order not to moan. The fist was tightening around him... Merlin, did people really do that for fun? It seemed to him a pressure was building up inside of him, with no hope for release, except maybe...
Hearing a scuffle in the nearby bathroom, and not wanting to appear in a compromising position to Hermione, Harry quickly broke from his horny haze. He pulled up the rest of the skin over his shoulders, his arms going into their holes, and his new chest and thinner waist following the process. He really was smooth everywhere, but did not feel up to exploring the ways in which he was, especially his chest, which seemed more sensitive than it had ever been, like some practical joker had placed nerve endings all over it, just to piss him off. But he knew that if he complained to Hermione of sore nipples, he'd never hear the end of it.
After that, there was only the head, and its tangle of smooth, wavy brown hair left. Harry stretched it over him, then down. The sensation of his head changing was very different from polyjuice. It felt as if he was being massaged into change, rather than handled by an angry child with Harry Potter play-doh.
Harry felt relaxed as a feeling of "Dorian Saunders" emerged in him. It wasn't like a pensieve, or sharing Voldemort's sight. He just was Dorian Saunders now. Of course, if pressed, he'd be obliged to say that he was Harry playing pretend. But until someone disturbed him, he was Dorian Saunders, of the Southampton Saunders, a proud pureblood of glorious lineage, an enthusiastic death eater, and Ms Penrose's thing.
That last thought sent an electric shock through Harry. He felt weak in the knees thinking about her, her being worn by Hermione right now. The disturbing thing was that Dorian seemed aware of what was going on and was loving it. To Harry, this situation was a disturbing, if not wholly negative experience. To Dorian, it was some sort of twisted fantasy. His pride at being a pureblood had a counterweight in his love of humiliation, of being turned into something weak and feminine, by more superior true bloods, or even — at this thought, Harry-dorian saw a dark spot appear on his silky panties — being defiled by half-bloods and mudbloods. That he had been defeated and worn by vile and dirty blood polluters, that Ms Penrose, his mistress, was being worn by a first-generation mudblood.... Somewhere in there, Dorian Saunders was having the orgasm of a lifetime. To Harry, this was yet another proof of how maladjusted wizards were. He briefly wondered if Draco was into something similar.
His thoughts on the matter were cut short as a gruff voice coughed behind him.
"Dorian" it gruffly acknowledged
"Mistre- oh Merlin. I mean boss. I mean Ms Penrose. I mean –" panicked Harry
"Shhh. Get dressed"
"Yes ma'am" acquiesced Harry. Though his new skin was pale, he knew that right now he was blushing beet-red. He gathered up the pants and the poofy yet ratty shirt (which maybe had been a blouse all along?) And put them on faster than you could say "Obedience". Finally, he put on some rather stylish —if you ignored the rusty laces— Oxford style shoes.
"This won't do" said Hermione, looking quite at ease and confident in her new body. Her muscles were plain to see underneath the black tank top, and her shoulders were spilling out of it. Harry had to stop himself from salivating and swallowing when she looked him straight in the eyes.
"Vestitem reparo" she casted over him with his wand. His pants suddenly lost their scuff, his blouse (because under the grime it was a blouse) was patched up, and even his panties seemed to become smoother. Surrounded by a feeling of smoothness against his skin, he shuddered.
"You know" she said as she approached him, the sadness in her eyes pure Hermione "Those two really are a waste. She was a beater in the Hufflepuff Team of 84 through 87, she almost made team captain, if she hadn't gotten into the pureblood supremacy stuff. Not very bright, but look" at this, she stared in his eyes. He hadn't realised she had a good foot on him now "Look at the easy confidence. Look at the command she has over people. Look at what she's doing to you"
Harry's breathing was a little bit heavier now. Hermione's new breasts, muscula-looking D-cups compressed by the tank top were just under his new long, aristocratic nose. She was looking him straight in the eyes, and her hand was making its way towards his chin.
"And this one. You're in here, so you probably know the story, but let me tell you how she would tell it. A proud Slytherin. A little too proud, a little too loud, making noise when people prefered being silent. Foolish enough to cheer on the Lestranges in the common room after what they did to the Longbottoms. Such" She took ahold of his chin and it was all Harry could do not to moan, though his lips parted and his eyes shut in response "Misplaced courage" Hermione finished. Even though his eyes were closed, Harry, and the part of Harry playing Dorian, knew that if he opened them he'd be greeted by a cocky and arrogant smile.
"And of course" she continued after a short pause "they found each other. She likes him very much. How weak and cowardly he is behind his blood and his buster. It touches her. Don't you find it touching, Harry"
"Pleeeeaaaaaase Hermione" Harry whined, eyes still closed, chin still in her big callused hand. "Please be gentle"
Hermione laughed.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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