Feminine World ch.11

Harry struggled in vain to find a back way through the suburban maze that surrounded his house, each time encountering carefully orchestrated women eagerly awaiting him. They were meticulously arranged, smiling, shouting his name, and often begging to pleasure him orally.

Each woman embodied a sexual fantasy with angelic faces, long legs, tight bodies, and breathtakingly ample bosoms that defied reason. They were dressed like insatiable dynamos.

On one street, every woman was in lingerie, their stockings shimmering in the sunlight. On another, each woman was a cheerleader, waving pom poms and jumping up and down to cheer his arrival. Yet another street was populated solely by tall, dark-haired women in evening gowns with seductive glances from beneath heavily veiled eyes. Through the large windows of each house, he could see freshly prepared dinners awaiting him. They sucked him, caressed him, rode him, making him feel like a king.

On a street that seemed to be populated by barely legal teenagers dressed in fashionable miniskirts and t-shirts, some of them held hastily written signs: "Teach me, please!" "Let me help teach Gabrielle how to suck you!" God, these women really knew how to please him. Precum stained his pants. He looked like he had been through a flood.

Finally, he found a side path leading to an abandoned lot. It didn't lead anywhere, but he could use it to abandon his car and continue on foot.

Using the charm "Point Me," he ventured through the woods until he reached a semi-developed neighborhood. He wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed like he was just a few miles away from his own district. Harry had never been too subtle, but with the waves of eager women filling the streets, it wasn't that difficult. He simply had to listen for sounds of begging, commotion, desire, and pain, and steer away from them.

He approached a nearby fence, hiding behind a small oak tree while a gaggle of bimbo nurses moaned and clicked, squeezing their heavy, breastfeeding breasts. The scent was almost unbearably arousing. They were just around the corner, and if he stepped out now, they would surely see him. He had to wait.

Close by was another fence. When those bimbos moved on, he would hop over it and make his way from one backyard to another. He had read about someone doing this in a story once.

He wondered if, with all this new construction, these houses would ever be finished. When they started this development, Fleur originally wanted to buy one of these houses, which was much more expensive and luxurious than their own. He was convinced of it every time he rode with her and she asked to "just drive by and take a look." He either denied her or drove past, pretending not to hear, or the one or two times he actually managed to persuade her to take a look, it was just terrible. Whining and complaining the whole time.

Truth be told, Harry had always been a terrible father and an even worse husband. He resented Fleur for reminding him of the money he couldn't earn because he was too busy drinking. He especially resented her desire for a new home because it meant she was looking towards the future, seeking a way to improve their family, while he only wanted to drown himself in alcohol and forget about the war. And he couldn't respect her when she could never see that.

Whatever changed when the totem was destroyed, he hoped he could maintain this resolute, passionate lack of need to drown himself in alcohol every waking second. It had been nearly two days since he needed to get drunk, and he felt amazing.

Finally, the group of bimbos on the corner moved on, and he watched them walk for a moment, indulging himself, before continuing on and according to plan, entering and crossing the fence.

As he walked through the yards, occasionally using the rare street, hopping over fences and gates, he kept his mind off the insatiable urge that his cock sent to his brain every time he heard the distant recitation of transformed beauty professing their love for him.

Engaging in this kind of physical work was a significant change for him. He had never been outright overweight, but he certainly wasn't in shape. The changes experienced—or enjoyed—by the girls seemed to have transferred to him in some way, and he still couldn't imagine why. Becoming some kind of accidental vampire of masculinity was the best explanation he could come up with.

He was stronger now than ever before—strong enough to kick a door off its hinges without using magic or toss a young, finger-sucked beauty without breaking a sweat. And his endurance and stamina seemed astronomically high as well, having energy to spare even after spending most of the last two days in a voracious orgy fueled by angel porn. Working on his body cleared his head, especially now that he wasn't ogling the street full of living fantasies begging to be impregnated and enslaved.

The women had changed due to the tattoo. He surmised they were taken to the Auror station for some "interrogation," using their authority to coerce innocent women into compliance. Then they were tattooed, likely against their will, turning them into finger-sucked slaves for Harry's enjoyment or lack thereof, depending on his satisfaction.

It was all rather fucked up, to say the least.

But how had all this changed him? Was it a curse, and if so, what powered it? Something transferred to him from holding the totem? Why would it affect all men? Were they all tattooed, and he just couldn't see it?

He had to set aside those thoughts for now as he accidentally climbed another fence, approaching his house—just one house or two, he was sure—and stumbled upon two gorgeous bikini-clad women sitting by the pool.

They were sunbathing, both wearing bright red bikinis. They almost looked like sisters—one with long blond hair, the other with black, almost dark and heavy breasts. Their legs were long, and the tight constraints of their swimsuits revealed their gorgeously slender bodies. Were they Narcissa and Bellatrix? The lesbian couple who lived next door.

No, that didn't make sense. Narcissa and Bellatrix were unbelievably old neighbors. Narcissa had recently fallen ill and was in a precarious state after the shocks she experienced, and Bellatrix was so stressed by the situation and taking care of her that she was losing her hair and wearing bandanas and scarves.

These two were ethereal, young beauties. They looked barely eighteen, except for the bright, lustful wisdom he saw in their eyes.

They saw him, of course. Sitting on one side like swimsuit models, they smiled as he approached. They began to rise from their positions, walking toward him, licking their lips, craving his attention. Every part of them pulsated with life, youth, desire, and slimness. He knew where this was heading—and so did his cock. The sun had dried his pants a bit, making them stiff and difficult to walk in. But now, seeing their bodies exposed just for him, his cock sprang to life, and his pants started to slide down.

The fabric was too weak to withstand his virility. Soon, he was naked from the waist down, his cock straining and urging him forward.

"Ladies..." he raised his hands as if backing away, even as he walked towards them.

Both rose to meet him, and soon they were upon him. Heavy breasts pressed against his arms. Narcissa dropped to her knees. She had the longer, straighter hair of the two.

He had a whole series of protests on his lips, but they worked so quickly. Bellatrix began kissing his neck and telling him how handsome he was. Her hair was thicker, and she had freckles running the length of her arms and nose.

"Where did you know we were waiting for you?" she whispered. "It felt like forever."

"Our whole lives."

That was the last thing Narcissa said before she took his cock into her mouth.

It wasn't exactly a sexual assault, because he certainly didn't resist it, but he didn't know he was asking for it either. He was still certain he could stop it at any moment.

But was it really the best idea?

Narcissa took him deeper into her mouth, struggling with his girth; this absolutely stunning blonde who could lead any strip club in America could barely take him.

He was so close to his own home. What if Fleur was there? Worse, what if fucking Gabrielle was there?

Didn't he want to quickly fuck to relieve himself, to have a clear mind before he got there? Didn't that make sense?

Narcissa moaned as her jaw stretched wider, and the head of his cock pressed against the soft tissue of her throat. Bellatrix gripped the bulge there as she kissed his chest, arms, and face.

And if he was going to let Narcissa suck his cock, he might as well fuck her, right? His cum would go inside her regardless. And there was no reason, in this case, not to do the same for Bellatrix.

And honestly, he'd have to do it a second time for both, just because the first time would be filled with panic and fear, and he wanted to genuinely enjoy their presence.

And at that moment, really, just go for the hat trick and do it three times—Harry hated doing things in doubles and threes always seemed like a nice round number to him...

Looking down, he tried to find some reason not to fuck these women. But all he saw were two eager women desperate to bring him to orgasm, desperate to be nurtured by his almighty cock.

He tried to fix everything, and certainly didn't intend to do it if he wasn't going to fuck these women senseless. It was the only thing that made sense. He'd be compromising his morality if he didn't fuck them.

Right?

Narcissa's mouth lifted from his cock. "I worship you. I want to name all my children after your glory, Master." Yes...yes, that was true.

FIVE FUCK SESSIONS later—five each for Bellatrix and Narcissa—Harry left their house, leaving two brilliantly young lesbian lovers lying on the floor, exhausted from his attention.

He walked out through the front door and stepped off the path, following a short sidewalk trail to his own home. It took him a moment to truly confirm that it was his home. The only thing he recognized was that it still had a tall, flat roof.

Harry had a clever plan to enter his house through a rear window, which was completely discarded when he realized his entire home had changed. Something that, he supposed, was another effect of the totem, made his home extraordinarily different from even yesterday morning. It was deeper, advertised more space than it seemed, but in a different way than spatial charms. There were no longer any neighbors behind them, somehow, so there was plenty of room to stretch back. The fading brick color on the front was now fully saturated and a deep, pleasant red. The windows, in particular, were tall and wide. They were no longer the kind that opened slightly to let in air. Instead, they were the kind that announced to the whole neighborhood what was happening inside the house. Showy. Flaunting. Vain.

Just like his fantasies about his wife always were.

So instead, with a resolute "fuck it," Harry—still completely naked from fucking the neighbors—simply walked through the front door. The house was, of course, open; what was there to worry about when it came to crime in this city?

The interior was just as ostentatious and arrogant as the outside. Based on the exterior, he expected vaulted ceilings. He didn't expect impeccably crafted chandeliers, crystal-adorned cabinets, and new furniture that looked straight out of a magazine cover. Twin marble staircases leading upstairs, which was at least five feet higher than yesterday morning.

Thick, plush fur rugs in the room—rooms that were also entirely new—with a roaring fire—a fireplace that must have been bricked up recently. Certainly, even a group of goblin builders couldn't transform his home to this level so quickly, especially since one of the first things Harry did upon entering the building was to scan for changes with spells. Nothing had been transfigured; it was magically pristine, as if ready to absorb the magic of its inhabitant.

He found what he was looking for in his pristine new lair. The totem sat atop a luxurious, meticulously polished mantle. The wood was so smooth that he could see his reflection in it.

It was hard to determine exactly what the totem looked like. Like a series of infinity loops, all shimmering and closing upon themselves. The totem didn't move, not entirely, but it was constructed to resemble him, and every time he tried to follow the pattern of its architecture, it slipped away from him.

The power emanating from him made his cock hard again, even after being drained so often by Bellatrix and Narcissa.

The sound of high-heeled steps echoed on the marble floor behind him. Harry's heart immediately started racing.

"Oh, mon cheri," Fleur moaned. "I'm so glad you're home." Damn.

Harry closed his eyes instantly. He still tried to deny reality after everything that had happened. She wrapped her arms around his neck and began kissing him. He could feel her wonderful breasts pressing against his back, her petite, slender frame feeling so light compared to his impossibly heavy masculinity.

"Darling..." she said after a moment, slowly slipping between him and his coat. "...why do you have your eyes closed, my love?"

Because you're probably so fucking hot right now that I don't know if I can look at you without fucking you into next week.

"I don't think I can control myself if I see you."

"Oh, Husband," she giggled. "You flatter me. But surely you are strong enough to handle everything?" Well, of course, that's true.