Asstr Hermione

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Asstr Hermione
Author’s note – the following short story was begun as a writing exercise, to see if I could actually write a parody more or less in the style of J.K. Rowling. It is not a finished work; barely begun, really. I am posting it here to check people’s reactions to it, and to see whether there is any point in continuing it.
J.K. Rowling’s characters are used without permission, and this document is not being published with any intent of remuneration. It is simply a parody and a writing exercise covered under Fair Use, so I would just as soon not be visited by any dementors lawyers.
Hermione Granger and the Chamber of Semen
Dobby the house-elf looked down upon the sleeping form of the young woman. “Poor Miss,” he whispered tiredly to himself, his lined features obvious in the glow of the single candle that lit the sixth-year girls' dormitory. “Too young to carry such troubles upon herself,” he sighed. “Much too young.”
Hermione Granger slept on, a pale figure bathed in the silver moonlight that emanated from the high, mullioned window almost directly above her four-poster. Her slumber, Dobby could see, was uneven, tortured. She jerked underneath her covers and small sounds escaped her throat – sounds of fear and terror. Dobby reached smoothly under his maroon jumper, which fell to just below his knees, and closed his eyes. He jerked his hand once, lightly, and then withdrew it a scant moment later, the first two fingers coated in a sticky, gleaming secretion. He deftly smeared the elf precum across the upper lip of his Mistress. Her nostrils automatically flared, inhaling the fumes from the magical spunk, and her breathing quickly commenced a regular, deep rhythm. A small smile gradually emerged; a Mona Lisa smile, Dobby thought. He knew the portrait well, it having been his unhappy task to clean its frame every day while slaving away in the home of his former masters, the Malfoys.
“Poor Miss,” he said again. “Not to worry. Dobby shall attend to you.” He crossed noiselessly to the side of her bed and snapped his fingers. The rumpled bedclothes vanished in a trice, leaving her slender, alabaster body completely exposed in the silent dormitory. Hermione always slept in the nude, a custom the Hogwarts house-elves found curious.
Dobby reached out a long-fingered hand and stroked a full, heavy breast . A barely audible whimper escaped Hermione’s lips, and her elegant hand slid smoothly downward, past her flat stomach, slowing as it approached her neatly trimmed auburn bush, stopping only when it reached her moistening quim and began softly stroking her nether lips. The house-elf slowly traced his finger up to the fat nipple and, with his thumb and forefinger, gave it a gentle squeeze. Hermione moaned again and bit her lower lip as the skin around her breasts erupted into gooseflesh.
He squeezed the engorged nipple, again and again, timing each pulse to her rapidly increasing heartbeat. Her moans became louder and her breathing became huskier and took on a ragged quality as she rubbed her silky thighs together and ground her slim buttocks into the yielding softness of her mattress. From the depths of her fever-induced state Hermione unconsciously spread her legs and plunged two fingers into her now sopping snatch.
“Oh, God yes! Fuck me, Ronald! Fuck me!” she screamed out as she began to frig herself, her voice echoing loudly off the stone walls of the sixth years' sleeping quarters. The earsplitting din did not awaken her fellow Hogwarts students, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, as they too were being ‘attended’ by two of Dobby’s house-elf colleagues.
“FER FUCK’S SAKE, DOBBY!” Jammy bellowed, his long fingers wedged into his ears against the racket, “Keep that big-titted cow quiet, can’t you?” Jammy, at 3 feet 4 inches, towered over the other house-elves, and Dobby disliked him intensely. “Tell you what, Dobbers,” he continued, “if you won’t stuff a sock down ‘er bleedin’ hole, I’m sure Hoppy here’s got something what can occupy ‘er mouth with.” He laughed raucously and inclined his head toward a rather tiny elf whose facial features could not be seen for the sole reason that his head was completely immersed in Parvati’s gaping pussy. “I’d help you me’self,” Jammy went on, perched precariously atop a stool at the head of Lavender’s bed, his hands now firmly gripping her large mams to prevent an untimely fall, “but my ‘witch tamer’ is occupado at the mo.” He nodded downward to indicate his own rather sizable elf sausage, which was presently sliding easily in and out of the young girl’s vulnerable mouth.
“You’re one to talk, Jammy,” Dobby replied, as Hermione began thrashing about on the bed. “Miss Lavender’s shrieking broke two windows last Thursday, if you remember. And you also,” Dobby added brusquely, “might want to slow your strokes down a bit or you’ll black Miss Lavender’s eyes again.”
“Oi, thanks, Dobbers,” said Jammy, reducing the speed of his face fucking to a more leisurely pace. “Yeah, these balls of mine can do a bit ‘o’ damage when they get goin’, eh? But seriously, mate, can’t you quiet ‘er down a bit? Makes it hard for an elf to concentrate with a witch screamin’ bloody murder like she does, an’ all.”
“Oh, very well, Jammy!” Dobby said exasperatedly, and he gently inserted two of his fingers into Hermione’s gasping mouth. She reflexively seized upon them and began sucking them greedily.
For ten more minutes little could be heard, save for Hermione’s muffled cries of ecstasy, Parvati’s heated whispers of, “Oh, yes, sir, for the love of God, give it to me now!” and the occasional dull smack of Jammy’s balls making contact with Lavender’s eyelids.
The stillness was broken by Parvati, who shot bolt upright as a thunderous orgasm shook her to her very core; the scream it produced would have awakened half of Hogsmeade, were it not for the elf magic that kept the dormitory soundproof while they performed their nightly duties. The beautiful, dark-skinned girl fell back upon her mattress, as sated as it is humanly possible to be, and fell blissfully asleep.
A loud, shlorping sound punctuated the dormitory as the tiny elf, Hoppy, withdrew his shiny, bald head from the confines of Parvati’s cavernous cunny, staggered back a few shaky steps, and dropped to his knees, gasping hoarsely. “Crikey!” the house-elf squeaked, trying to catch his breath, “Firenze’s been at this one again. At this rate, even Hagrid’s giant tool won’t satisfy ‘er. Talk about a size queen.” He snapped his fingers and a fluffy towel appeared in his hand, which he then used to wipe the sleeping beauty’s juices from his head and neck.
From across the dormitory, Dobby could be heard speaking softly while the young witch squealed and moaned. “Not too soon, Miss Hermione. You must not cum yet. You are almost there. Just a few more minutes and Dobby will let you cum.”
“Talk about an anal fuckin’ elf,” Jammy laughed quietly, whispering to the unconscious cocksucker beneath him. “Could be worse, I suppose. He could be fucking her up ‘er arse! Get it? Har, har.” Jammy kept pumping away at the slumbering girl’s mouth. “Don’t you worry, luv. He said, lightly, giving her cheek a friendly smack, “Jammy’ll have you trained up in no time, too. Oh, an’ I’ve got good news fer you, luv. I’ve had it from Madame Rosemerta’s elf, Blinky, that she’s taken a special interest in your future career.” Jammy paused his thrusting, the head of his thick cock at the very edge of her lips, to check her reaction. Lavender instantly became fidgety without the fat pacifier and began heatedly inching her body further up the bed to try and get it back where it belonged.
Jammy laughed and roughly shoved his tool balls deep into her face, eliciting another dull smack as they again made contact with the young witch’s eyelids.
“Yeh,” Jammy grunted as he bottomed out in her throat, “I’ve heard that, considering how few O.W.L.’s you got, ol’ Rosey thinks you might be cut out to work for ‘er in The Three Broomsticks. Officially you’ll be waitin’ tables and tendin’ bar, but Blinky says you’ll mostly be dancin’ on tables and tending cocks.” Jammy laughed again, and quickened his thrusts; his rock-hard member gleamed wetly whenever it regained the moonlight. “Not much different than school, when you think about it, if half of what I’ve heard about you and the Gobstones club is true. Oh, Blinky also let slip the pay’s not so great, but it’ll be enough to keep yer in clothes, not that you’ll be needin’ ‘em, eh?”
Jammy’s skin was now slick with sweat as he thrust his cock, again and again, into the soon-to-be whore’s receptive mouth. “I’ve done a good job of you, luv, I’m proud ter say,” the elf grunted, his speech becoming rougher with every thrust, “but there’s still a few…things ter sort out.” He was gasping now. “Should make yer tits a little bigger, I should. An’ yer bum… a little plumper…if yer gonna…do this fer a…livin’…not ter mention… FU-UCK!!
Jammy could no longer hold on, and rammed the length of his cock into Lavender’s mouth again and again, spewing his load into the witch’s waiting belly. Lavender moaned passionately around the invasive meat, and her knuckles showed whitely as she grasped the sheets of her bed; her orgasm ripping through her like a fire through a parched forest, Jammy having ‘trained’ her body to spontaneously climax in response to the taste of semen.
“There’s a little love potion for ya, Miss Lavender,” Jammy grunted, “freshly brewed, har-har. Oops, almost forgot.” Jammy quickly withdrew his softening member and leapt lightly onto the bed. He crouched low and, taking careful aim, shot the remainder of his seed onto the witch’s heaving chest.
“Oi!” grunted the Elf, for Lavender’s full, sensuous lips had engulfed his sizable scrotum, and she began sucking and tonguing his heavy balls, causing his eyes to involuntarily cross. Jammy’s cock immediately stiffened again under the merciless onslaught of the unanticipated teabagging. “Bleedin’ hell!” he gasped, “you’ll suck anything what gets too close, won’t you, you little slut?”
Jammy massaged his elf-cream into Lavender’s chest while she continued to swirl the fleshy eggs around in her talented mouth. Her moans of pleasure reverberated around his captive balls, sending shivers up and down Jammy’s spine. It took less than a minute (or several sunlit days, to Jammy’s delirious sensibilities) before the elf grunted loudly, and began shooting spurt after spurt of creamy goo into the air, audibly splashing into the valley of the now noticeably swollen tits.
“Shite!” Jammy swore, under his breath. “She’ll end up looking like ‘Little Miss Mudblood’ over there, if I’m not careful.” He quickly reached back and pinched Lavender’s nostrils shut, causing her mouth to reflexively open, thereby allowing the beleaguered elf to extricate his poor, besieged balls with a wet ‘plop’.
Jammy snapped his fingers, and the unincorporated jizz on Lavender’s chest levitated into the air to hover several feet above her supine form. He snapped his fingers again, and the young girl’s body rose ever so lightly, and gracefully rotated, coming to rest upon her newly enlarged front. Jammy quickly scooted around the sleeping girl, prodded her legs open, and knelt in the ‘V’ of her creamy thighs. He scooped the cum out of the air and then began working it vigorously into her firm buttocks. Her supple bottom emitted a faint glow as the magical semen started doing its work, sculpting an ever more desirable form.
“You’ll be Rosie’s top earner, you will, you mark my words.” Jammy said, still breathing a little heavily. “Even the female house-elves won’t suck on a pair of balls. Goodness knows how I’ve begged ‘em.”
Dobby, meanwhile, was playing Hermione with all the skill of a virtuoso violinist. She was teetering on the very edge of a earth-shaking orgasm, and Dobby was doing his level best to keep her there, without going over, which was not easy as he really needed to have both hands available to do a first-rate job of it.
“Crikey, Dobby,” Hoppy said, jumping onto Hermione’s bed, his toweling off finished, “What are you doing to this poor girl?”
“You know very well what I’m doing,” Dobby said testily. “The sponge is almost full. Another minute or two should do it, I think. And since you seem to have some free time, would you mind awfully helping to keep her quiet? I wouldn’t ask but Miss Hermione’s just about ready to pop, and I really don’t need to hear any more of Jammy’s ranting.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about Jammy,” he said, looking over the fatigued elf’s shoulder to see their barrel-chested associate shaking his head and rubbing some of his semen onto Lavender’s rather battered-looking eyelids. “He looks pretty relaxed now. Anyway, I’m not talking about the sponge, Dobby, and you know it,” squeaked the little elf, sticking his entire fist into Hermione’s recently vacated mouth. She gave an “mmmph” of appreciation and earnestly began hoovering the intrusive appendage. “Don’t you think her teats are big enough, already? You must have noticed that from the side she looks like a capital letter ‘P’.
“You’re one to talk, Hoppy. If Miss Parvati’s bubbies get any bigger she’ll have to cast a Permanent Hover charm on them just so she can get out of bed. She looks to be about one-third tit now.”
Hoppy looked over at the large bosom rising and falling on the nearby four-poster, and smiled a little crookedly, “It’s none of my doing,” he squeaked, “What can I say? It appears Miss Parvati is swallowing when she should be spitting. And you’re changing the subject, Dobby. All the other house elves is saying you’re going too far, that you’re turning her into a freak. And it’s not just them, neither. I even overheard Professor Trelawney saying, ‘Well, of course she could never be a good Seer. Not only is she unable to See into the future, she can’t even see her own feet.’”
“Yes, yes, I know all that,” snorted Dobby, who began twiddling Hermione’s engorged clitoris with his thumb and a somewhat pruney finger, “but Master Ronald Weasley, who is giving Dobby his jumper, likes them big.”
“Yeah, yeah,” replied the tiny elf, “I’ve heard all about your jumper. But her flagons,” he said, slapping one of the overlarge funbags with a meaty thud, “are practically the size of her head now. Surely ‘Master Ronald Weasley’ will be more than satisfied with these.”
Dobby shook his head, causing his bat-like ears to flap. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Hoppy. You have never seen Master Ronald Weasley’s French postcards, have you?” Dobby snapped his fingers and a number of photographs appeared in his long-fingered hand. He gave them to Hoppy and went back to his nipple squeezing.
Hoppy laid the photographs onto the moaning girl’s bed and examined them, his already large eyes growing even wider in their astonishment. The witches pictured, he presumed they weren’t Squibs, danced, pranced and otherwise cavorted through them all in various stages of undress, each of them sporting the largest teats he could remember seeing. One of the witches, he was appalled to see, had apparently been transfigured into a massive pair of breasts and magicked onto a wall, where a number of other giant-jugged bawds, inexpertly costumed and made up to look like Veela, stroked, sucked and fucked themselves stupid with the erect, phallus-like nipples.
“But D-Dobby,” Hoppy was barely able to keep the stammer from his voice, “these aren’t real women. The teats in these photos are only temporary. Engorgement charms, potions, and the like, I’ll wager. And look at these incestuous triplets; Polyjuice Potion, it just has to be.”
“Dobby, you can’t seriously mean to take this young woman,” Hoppy gestured with his long nose at the panting and thrashing set of limbs, tits, and bushy hair on the bed, “and make her over into one of these…these scarlet women, can you? Dobby, you know the changes we make can never be undone. Is this,” Hoppy implored, indicating the photographs, “the sort of life you want for her?”
The pleading in Hoppy’s high-pitched voice was unmistakable, as was the resoluteness in Dobby’s. “The management of Miss Hermione was given to me, and I shall mould her to her best advantage. She and Ronald Weasley obviously love each other and I must do all that I can to help.”
Hermione gave a frustrated scream around Hoppy’s fist and began mashing her juggs together agitatedly.
“She’s ready!” Dobby cried. He began gently twisting her fat nipples and bent down to tongue her erect clitoris. He slowly encircled the bud with his long tongue, only ever making incidental contact with it as he drove her on the upward climb to the summit of her orgasm. When it was only milliseconds away, Dobby squeezed and pulled both nipples simultaneously and sucked the throbbing clit through the slight gap in his teeth, sending the spasming witch over the top and into a dimension of sexual gratification no Muggle woman is even aware exists.
As Hermione bucked and flailed wildly, Dobby kept the large sponge pressed to the mouth of her dripping snatch, absorbing every last possible drop of her essence until, at last, her tremors subsided and she lay there like a rag doll. Dobby removed the thoroughly soaked sponge from between her milky thighs and squeezed the witch’s juices into a large glass phial that he produced from thin air with a snap of his fingers.
“Nectar of Adult Virgin,” Dobby exclaimed, exhaustion lining his features. He held the phial up, catching the moonlight, so that it sent shafts of dazzling colour about the room. He then placed the phial on the nearby night table, handling it as though it was as precious as a bottle of one hundred year-old oak-matured mead, which, to a house-elf, it was. “‘Tis a pity that it is becoming ever so much more difficult to come by.” The increasing lack of purity in young witches was a common lament among the Hogwarts house-elves. Even Luna Lovegood, as sweetly innocent as she was, was no longer pure; having received a poking from a middle-aged wizard in the back room of Beaker’s Discount Apothecary. He’d claimed he had a ‘technique’ that could cure cramps, swelling and painful menses. It turned out to be true; at least until Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, gave her something to terminate the unplanned pregnancy. That potion, it transpired, was used more often than Skele-Gro.
“Too true,” agreed Hoppy sadly. “Miss Hermione’s the only one above fourth year still intact now that Dean Thomas has popped little Ginny Weasley’s cherry. What will we do, Dobby? We was counting on them for next year.
“I don’t know, Hoppy,” Dobby replied tiredly, “who knows if there wlll even be a next year for any of us, now that…You-Know-Who… is back.”
Hoppy shuddered. “Do you believe it, Dobby,” he whispered, his eyes wide, “do you really believe they might close the school?”
Dobby was on the verge of answering, when a strong hand gripped the back of his jumper and hoisted him into the air. “I hate to break up this little tea party, you two,” said Jammy, in a mock sweet tone, his bulbous nose almost touching Dobby’s long, pencil-like one, “but there’s still work to be done.” He turned his face slowly to Hoppy, who was likewise dangling in midair, “Unless, of course, you’d like You-Know-Who to be your new Master. I hear Kreacher can put in a good word for you.”
Hoppy yipped and began shaking violently as he put both his hands up to his mouth in order to stop himself crying out. Jammy dropped the two elves back onto Hermione’s rumpled bed and said in his gravelly voice, “Let’s just get this done, eh?” He turned and walked back in the direction of Lavender’s bed, the snap of his fingers rang out loudly in the still air of the dormitory.
Hoppy gulped and slid off the edge of the bed and walked shakily away w
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