Hermione Granger and the Potion of Perilous Pleasure

Warning: This Story will contain scenes like Futanari on Female, breeding kink, and Futadom scenes and many other sex kinks. If you are not comfortable with this story, then leave right now. This story will not have Futa on Futa or Futa on Male Action.

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The following 7 chapters are already available to Patrons.

Chapter 2 (A Problem Needs a Solution), Chapter 3 (Luna's Help), Chapter 4 (Luna is Weird), Chapter 5 (Girls are Driving me Mad!), Chapter 6 (A Party for a Bad Girl), Chapter 7 (Confrontation), and Chapter 8 (A Shower with Ginny) are already available for Patrons.

The library was empty, save for the faint flicker of candlelight and the constant rustling of parchment as Hermione worked deep into the night. She could feel her exhaustion, she had barely slept for the last three nights. Tonight was no different. She couldn't afford to rest, not until this potion was finished.

With a sigh, she dragged a hand through her messy curls, her mind swimming in the complex formulae and ingredients scattered before her. The cauldron bubbled softly, its contents an odd shade of dull blue—until she tossed in the next ingredient. The moment the powdered rose petals hit the surface, the liquid inside turned bright, alarming pink.

"Oh, no—" she gasped, trying to backpedal, but it was too late.

The cauldron hissed violently before exploding in a puff of pink smoke. It enveloped her face entirely, wrapping her in a cloud of sugary-sweet mist. Her eyes widened in shock as the thick fog choked her, her lips parting in reflex. In that instant, some of the potion's concoction slipped into her mouth, and she coughed, only to feel the liquid sliding down her throat.

Panic shot through her. She swayed on her feet, coughing, but something was wrong—very wrong. Her body tingled, it felt as if a fire was burning on her thighs. Her pulse quickened, pounding through her veins, and an unfamiliar warmth pooled in her belly, slowly spreading lower, igniting an ache between her legs that made her thighs clench together involuntarily.

"No...what...?" she breathed, heart racing, her vision blurring as the strange sensations surged through her. A sudden heaviness settled over her chest, and her nipples turned hard like diamonds painfully against the fabric of her blouse.

It felt wrong...but also, somehow pleasureable. The more the warmth spread, the deeper the ache became, and despite herself, Hermione's legs shifted, rubbing together as a sharp, almost electric jolt of pleasure surged through her. She bit her lip hard, trying to shake it off, but the sensation only grew stronger, overwhelming her exhausted mind.

Her hands trembled as she brought them up to her flushed face, her fingers grazing her lips—lips that suddenly felt unbearably soft and sensitive. She tasted the remnants of the potion there, its sweetness lingering, tempting her to lick them clean.

"No...focus, Hermione...focus," 

Hermione sat back down, heart still hammering in her chest. Her skin buzzed with heat, and that strange, pulsing ache between her legs persisted, but she stubbornly pushed it aside. She should go to Madam Pomfrey, but the thought of explaining this particular incident, and worse, having it get back to Snape, made her stomach churn.

The mental image of Snape sneering at her, berating her for foolishness and lack of control, made her shiver in dread. She could already hear his sarcastic, cutting voice:

"Miss Granger, did you think yourself above proper safety protocols while brewing advanced potions? I suppose that prodigious mind of yours requires constant humiliation to remain grounded in reality."

No. She couldn't endure that. Not now. Not after all the work she'd put into proving herself in his class. Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath, ignoring the growing heat in her body. She didn't need Snape's ridicule, not when she could fix this herself.

Sitting up straighter, she tried to focus on the potion in front of her, still faintly simmering, the pink liquid looking far too innocent after what it had done to her. Her fingers brushed against her lips again, feeling that odd sensitivity, and she quickly jerked her hand back. This wasn't the time to dwell on it.

She had work to do.

Grabbing her quill, Hermione dipped it into the ink pot and began jotting down the revised potion formula, mentally going over each step to ensure no more mistakes. She measured ingredients with care, grinding the valerian root into an even finer powder, regulating the heat of the cauldron to the perfect temperature, all while fighting the distracting throb of warmth still making her breath catch now and then.

Time crawled forward. She felt the minutes slip by, her concentration wavering more than she liked. After thirty minutes, the potion bubbled gently, transforming into a pale lavender color, exactly as the instructions had dictated. Relief washed over her.

"I did it..." she murmured, more to reassure herself than anything. Her fingers still trembled slightly as she ladled the potion into a small, clear flask. The liquid swirled smoothly, perfect in every way. With a sense of accomplishment, Hermione corked the flask and set it aside, carefully marking down the final steps and successes in her notes. She smiled slightly—if anything, this might earn her an "Exceeds Expectations."

But just as she was finishing her homework, she felt a sudden feel of exhausting hitting her like a buss. Hermione blinked, her vision swaying, and rubbed her temples. She hadn't realized how drained she was, she knew she was working too much, but she never thought she was this tired.

The thought of bed was so tempting, her bed back in Gryffindor Tower. But as she began to stand, intending to pack her things and leave the library for the night, her knees buckled, and she fell heavily back into the chair.

Her breath caught, and her head swam with a sudden wave of dizziness.

Hermione clutched the edge of the desk, fingers curling around the wood, but she couldn't fight it. Her eyelids drooped heavily, she could no longer keep them open despite how hard she tried it. Her vision blurred, and before she could form another coherent thought, sleep claimed her.

---

Hermione found herself sitting on a plush leather couch, the familiar smell of old parchment and dust in the air, the towering shelves of books looming overhead. It should have felt comforting, this place she knew so well, but something was off. She couldn't move. Her body was frozen, every muscle tense, locked in place as though some invisible force had wrapped itself around her, holding her captive.

Panic flickered in her chest, but then she heard it—a soft, breathy sound, almost a whimper. There it was again—a moan, high and desperate, followed by the unmistakable sound of wetness, slick and rhythmic. Hermione's breath caught, her heart pounding as she strained to turn her head, her neck stiff and slow to respond, like pushing through thick molasses.

Finally, she managed to shift her gaze, her eyes landing on a sight that made her heart stutter in her chest. Just a few feet away, sprawled out on the library floor, were Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley. Naked. Their pale, smooth bodies intertwined in a tangle of limbs, their hands moving urgently between one another's legs, their mouths pressed together in a hungry kiss.

Hermione's breath hitched, her eyes widening as she took in the scene—Luna's long, slender fingers were buried between Ginny's thighs, moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm, while Ginny arched her back, her own hand rubbing furiously against Luna's wet folds. Their moans filled the air, soft and breathless, the slick sound of their fingers working each other growing louder, more insistent.

Hermione couldn't look away. Her mind raced, her heart pounding as she watched them. She didn't understand it—why she was here, why she was seeing this, why her body was reacting the way it was. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her chest tightening with a heat she didn't know how to control.

Luna's head fell back, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders as she gasped, her body trembling with pleasure. "Oh, Ginny..." she moaned, her voice high and airy, full of that whimsical innocence she always carried, even in this moment of raw, unfiltered lust. Ginny growled in response, her fingers moving faster, her mouth latching onto Luna's breast, sucking hard on her nipple.

Hermione swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. Her legs were spread on the couch, though she hadn't moved them herself, and there was a heavy, aching heat between her thighs, a pressure that was building and building the more she watched the two witches. She wanted to join them. The thought was immediate, and it shocked her—why would she want to join them? She had never felt this way before, never even considered it.

Ginny and Luna were lost in each other now as they moaned and gasped. Hermione's heart raced faster, her pulse thundering in her ears. Luna's lips parted in a soft, shuddering moan, her body arching as her climax hit her like a tidal wave. Ginny followed moments later, her own orgasm rippling through her as she cried out, her fingers still buried in Luna's dripping pussy.

Hermione's breath hitched again, the sight of them coming together so intimately sending a rush of heat straight to her core. Her body ached with need, her thighs trembling as the pressure between her legs built to an unbearable intensity. She wanted them—wanted to feel their hands on her, wanted to taste the salt of their sweat and hear the breathy gasps of their pleasure.

And then, as if sensing her, Ginny turned her head. Her eyes locked onto Hermione's, dark and filled with hunger. A slow, lazy smile spread across her lips as she disentangled herself from Luna and stood, her naked body glistening in the dim light of the library.

"Look at you," Ginny purred, her voice low, dripping with amusement. "Already hard for us."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat, her mind spinning. Hard? The world around her began to blur. The edges of the library faded, the towering shelves and the dim light dissolving into darkness. Ginny and Luna vanished, and Hermione was left panting, aching, desperate, as the dream slipped away.

---

Hermione felt strange. Her body was heavy, muscles locked in place...again. She sat in the middle of a grand room, deep mahogany walls stretching up towards a high ceiling. Plush carpets muffled every sound, except for the faint rustling of her own breath. The couch beneath her was rich leather, cold against her bare skin. Her heart pounded in her chest, not with fear, but with a dull, throbbing anticipation.

Between her legs, something warm and hard throbbed—her eyes darted down. Her breath caught in her throat. A thick, erect cock rested heavily against her thigh, standing impossibly straight up from her own body. Hermione's mind reeled. She shouldn't have a cock. She was supposed to be... normal. Yet, there it was, nine inches of pulsing, veiny heat that twitched with every shallow exhale she took. 

What the hell is happening? She tried to shift, to move, but her body refused to respond. She could feel everything—the pressure of the cock against her, the cool air brushing over her sensitive skin—but she couldn't move except her head. 

The soft click of a door opening drew her attention. Hermione's pulse spiked as Narcissa Malfoy stepped into the room. The older woman was almost unrecognizable, dressed in nothing but a skimpy bikini that barely covered her lush, curvaceous body. Hermione's gaze locked onto her, drawn by the sway of her hips, the way the material of the bikini strained to contain her ample breasts. Narcissa was a vision of voluptuousness, her skin pale and flawless, breasts practically spilling out of the tiny top that hugged her figure.

Hermione's mind stuttered. What was this feeling? Why did the sight of Narcissa's body make her want to fuck her? She wasn't interested in woman... was she?

Narcissa's lips curled into a sly smile as her eyes flicked down, noticing the thick cock between Hermione's legs. "Well," she purred, her voice smooth, "I must say, this is... unexpected." Her gaze lingered, roaming over Hermione's exposed form with an appreciative hunger. "I never thought you'd be so well-equipped."

Hermione's heart thundered in her chest, her mind screaming at her to move, to do something, to stop Narcissa from looking at her like that. But she couldn't. She could only sit there, the cock twitching traitorously under Narcissa's intense scrutiny, a pulse of pleasure radiating from the base of it all the way through her spine.

Narcissa sauntered closer, her fingers trailing lightly over the leather couch as she approached. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Does it feel good?" Narcissa asked softly, her voice a teasing whisper as she stood before her. "Do you like having something so big, so hard...?"

Hermione wanted to shake her head, to deny the humiliating arousal flooding her senses, but her body betrayed her. A soft moan escaped her lips as the cock twitched again, pre-cum beading at the tip. 

Narcissa's smile widened as she watched Hermione's reaction. "Oh, dear, it seems you do enjoy it," she murmured, almost mockingly. She reached down, her fingers brushing the head of Hermione's cock, smearing the pre-cum with a casual flick of her thumb. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as a bolt of pure pleasure shot through her, her hips jerking involuntarily.

"You're so sensitive..." Narcissa's voice was a low, seductive hum. She leaned closer, her breasts practically spilling from the tight confines of her bikini, the scent of her perfume made Hermione's head spin. "I wonder what else you like."

Hermione's mind was a haze of confusion and need. How could she want this? Why did her body crave Narcissa's touch, her presence? She'd never thought about women this way before, but now, the sight of Narcissa's perfect, busty figure had her aching for more. Desire coiled inside her like a snake, tightening, throbbing.

Narcissa knelt between Hermione's legs, her gaze never leaving the rigid cock standing proudly before her. Slowly, she ran her hands up Hermione's thighs, nails scraping lightly against the skin. Hermione's breathing hitched, her cock twitching eagerly as more pre-cum leaked from the tip.

"I have to admit," Narcissa said, her voice thick with amusement, "All I heard about you from my son is that you are a filthy mud blood and that you are a bookworm. I never expected this." Her fingers wrapped around the base of Hermione's cock, and Hermione gasped, pleasure spiking through her like lightning, completely ignoring her comment about her. Narcissa's grip was firm, confident, as though she'd done this a hundred times before, and the feeling of her hand pumping slowly up and down was almost too much.

Hermione whimpered, her body shuddering under Narcissa's touch, every stroke sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. She could feel the tight coil of lust building inside her, winding tighter and tighter with each passing second. Narcissa leaned in closer, her breath hot against Hermione's skin as she whispered, "Tell me, Hermione... have you ever done something like this before? Or am I your first?"

Hermione's mind was a whirlpool of conflicting thoughts. She wanted to scream that this wasn't her, that she didn't want this—yet her body was on fire, trembling with the need for release. Her hips would have bucked up into Narcissa's hand if she could move, and she let out a breathless moan, unable to stop the wave of heat that flooded her core. It felt too good to resist, too much pleasure for her poor body.

Narcissa chuckled darkly, her fingers tightening around Hermione's cock. "You're enjoying this far too much for someone who claims to be so... pure," she teased, her lips brushing against Hermione's thigh. "Perhaps you were always a slut deep down."

Before Hermione could process the words, Narcissa's mouth descended on the tip of her cock, her tongue flicking out to taste the pre-cum glistening there. Hermione's entire body jolted as a cry escaped her lips, her mind going blank from the sheer pleasure of it. Narcissa's lips wrapped around the head, sucking gently, teasingly, while her hand continued to stroke up and down the shaft.

"Ohh, Merlin!!! Oh God!!!"

Hermione was lost in the heat of it, every nerve in her body was exploding in pleasure. This was too much. She wanted to protest, to say this wasn't right, but the words wouldn't come. All she could do was moan helplessly as Narcissa's mouth worked her cock with expert precision, every stroke, every swirl of her tongue pushing her closer to the edge.

Narcissa's eyes flicked up, watching Hermione's reactions with a wicked gleam. "You taste delicious," she murmured, her voice husky as she pulled back, her lips slick with saliva and pre-cum. "I wonder how much more I can get from you."

Hermione whimpered, her body shaking as Narcissa's words washed over her. The pleasure was too much, too intense. She could feel the pressure building, the tight coil of lust ready to snap at any moment.

Narcissa smirked, her hand still stroking Hermione's cock as she leaned in closer, her lips close to Hermione's lips. "Cum for me," she whispered, her voice dripping with command. "Let me see just how much you want this."

Hermione's body convulsed. A strangled cry tore from her throat as she came, hot spurts of cum shooting from her cock, splattering across Narcissa's hand and her own stomach. Every wave of release left her trembling, her mind blank, lost in the overwhelming ecstasy of it.

Narcissa chuckled softly as she watched Hermione's body shudder in the aftermath, her hand slowly milking the last drops from Hermione's spent cock. "Good girl," she murmured, wiping her slick hand on the couch beside her. "It seems deep down the bookworm is a slut, a slut that wants to fuck."

Hermione's chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, her mind still spinning. What just happened? 

Hermione lay sprawled on the couch, her entire body trembling in the aftermath of the most intense release she'd ever experienced. Her breath came in ragged gasps, chest heaving as she struggled to regain control, her mind still swirling with disbelief. Her cock, still thick and sensitive, twitched between her legs, glistening with Narcissa's spit and her own cum. She had never felt pleasure like this before—nothing even came close. Her skin was flushed, tingling, her body still humming with desire.

Narcissa, who now seemed to radiate a smug satisfaction, rose gracefully to her feet. She towered over Hermione. There was a gleam in her eyes, a knowing look that sent a fresh surge of heat rushing through Hermione's veins. But what happened next made her heart nearly stop.

Slowly, deliberately, Narcissa turned around, giving Hermione a full view of her body. Hermione's breath hitched when Narcissa's hands moved to her hips, fingers curling into the thin straps of her bikini bottoms, and with a slow, sensual motion, she pulled them down, letting the fabric slide over her perfect, creamy skin until it fell to the floor. Narcissa straightened, and Hermione's eyes widened at the sight before her.

Narcissa's ass was incredible—round, firm, and impossibly perfect. The cheeks were full and smooth, glowing in the soft light of the room, every curve inviting, every dip designed to drive Hermione wild. Her mouth went dry as she stared, unable to tear her eyes away. She wanted to touch, to squeeze, to worship that magnificent ass with her lips, her tongue. 

"Oh, gods..." Hermione breathed, her voice barely a whisper, her cock stirring to life again despite how recently she had come. The sight of Narcissa's ass alone was enough to reignite that fire in her belly.

Narcissa looked over her shoulder, her lips curling into a wicked smile as she caught Hermione's wide-eyed, awestruck stare. She shifted her weight, her hips swaying just enough to make her ass jiggle enticingly. Hermione let out a low, helpless moan, her mind spiraling as the desire consumed her. She needed to touch her, needed to bury her face between those perfect cheeks, to kiss, to worship every inch of Narcissa's body.

"You like what you see, don't you, Miss Granger?" Narcissa's voice was low, teasing, as she reached back to lightly run her fingers over her own ass, her nails grazing her skin just enough to make it shimmer. "I can see it in your eyes. You want me, Hermione. You want to bury your face here..."

Hermione could barely form a coherent thought, her entire world narrowed to the sight of Narcissa's perfect ass, her mind racing with images of what it would feel like to press her lips to that soft, supple skin. She was practically drooling, her cock now fully hard again, straining, desperate for some kind of release—whether it was with her mouth, her hands, or her cock, she didn't care. She just needed her.

"Please..." Hermione's voice was weak, barely audible, her throat tight with need.

Narcissa chuckled softly, turning to face her again, though she kept her hips tilted in a way that showed off every curve of her body. Her breasts heaved in her bikini top, nipples hard against the thin fabric, and the look in her eyes was pure desire.

"So eager," Narcissa purred, stepping closer, her hands trailing down her own body as if to tease Hermione even further. She reached down and brushed her fingers over the swollen head of Hermione's cock, sending a shiver of pleasure through Hermione's entire body. "You're so easy to break, Hermione. So needy."

Hermione's breath hitched as Narcissa climbed onto the couch, her knees sinking into the cushions on either side of Hermione's legs. For a brief, maddening moment, it seemed like Narcissa was going to lower herself onto Hermione's cock. The older woman's full, heavy breasts were nearly spilling out of her bikini top, her lips curled into a sultry smile as she hovered above Hermione's aching length.

Hermione's mind was a blur of sensation, her heart racing. She wanted to thrust up, to bury herself in Narcissa's warmth, to lose herself completely in this strange, erotic dream. She could feel the heat radiating from Narcissa's body, could almost imagine the tightness, the wetness she'd plunge into if Narcissa just moved a little closer...

But then Narcissa stopped, her eyes glinting with amusement. She leaned forward, her breath ghosting across Hermione's lips, so close Hermione could taste her. The older woman's hand slid down, brushing along Hermione's cock once more, but then... nothing. Narcissa winked.

"We will see each other again, mud blood. Now, it's time for you to wake up?" Narcissa whispered, her voice dripping with teasing cruelty.

Hermione's breath caught, a desperate, frustrated moan escaping her lips as Narcissa pulled away, her touch disappearing like smoke. The older woman stood up, adjusting her bikini with a casual air, as though she hadn't just reduced Hermione to a quivering, needy mess.

"Perhaps next time, muddy," Narcissa said with a smirk as she turned, her ass once again on full display, before she sashayed toward the door. Every step made her hips sway, her cheeks bouncing ever so slightly with the motion, and Hermione's eyes followed every movement, desperate, pleading.

And just like that, she was gone, and the world around Hermione began to dissolve, the edges of the room blurring, fading into darkness. 

---

Hermione stirred, her cheek resting on the table. The library was silent, it was very early in the morning. She blinked groggily, trying to shake off the lingering haze of sleep. Her head ached, thoughts went to the strange dreams. She could not remember anything that happened last night.

Her body felt strange, heavy. Something was wrong.

She shifted in her chair, wincing as a sharp, unexpected ache shot through her waist. Her breath caught, and her heart began to race as fragments of her dream came flooding back, vivid and disturbingly real. She had dreamt of Narcissa Malfoy, sucking her... Her pulse quickened, throat tightening as she recalled the heat...

She tried to shake it off, her rational mind scrambling to dismiss the absurdity of it. It was just a dream. Of course, it was just a dream. But the weight between her legs felt wrong. The pressure as she shifted in her seat... alien.

Slowly, tentatively, Hermione pushed her chair back and sat up straighter, her body still humming with a strange tension. Her thighs brushed against the wooden edge of the desk, and that's when she felt it. Not just an ache—something more. Her eyes widened, her breath coming faster as her hand slipped down, brushing the hem of her skirt. She hesitated for only a second, afraid of what she might find, but the inexplicable need to know drove her on.

Her fingers pressed into her lap, tracing the outline of something firm, warm, throbbing against her knickers. She gasped, pulling her hand back like she'd been burned, her mind reeling in confusion and horror. This couldn't be real. This wasn't real. It couldn't be happening. But the sensation was unmistakable—she had a cock.

Her heart pounded in her chest as her mind raced, trying to make sense of the impossibility. She squeezed her legs together, the friction sparking a shudder of unwanted pleasure that made her stomach twist in both fear and pleasure. The memory of the dream lingered at the edges of her consciousness—the way Narcissa had sucked her cock. It had felt so good, so right in the dream. But now, it was a nightmare.

Her hand hovered over her lap again, trembling, and she let out a shaky breath. She had to understand. Slowly, carefully, she reached down again, fingers brushing against the hardness beneath her skirt. Her breath hitched as her hand curled around the length of it, hot and pulsing in her grasp. A strangled sound escaped her lips as she stroked herself experimentally, the pleasure shooting straight to her core, curling tight in her belly.

"No..." she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to will it away, but the reality of it pressed against her palm, undeniable. Her body responded despite her horror, heat pooling low in her abdomen as her cock twitched with each movement of her hand. She bit her lip, tears of frustration and confusion welling up as her fingers tightened their grip, unable to stop herself. The friction felt too good, too real, and each brush of her fingers sent a shock of pleasure through her that made her want to scream.

She tried to think of anything else—tried to focus on logic, on finding a solution—but all she could picture was Narcissa.

"Stop... stop..." she whispered to herself, but her body wouldn't listen, her cock throbbing harder in her hand as she stroked it, faster now, each motion pulling her further away from reason. She could feel her knickers growing wet with pre-cum, the slickness making it easier to move, and the heat building inside her was unbearable, a fire she couldn't extinguish.

She leaned back in her chair, her head spinning. She was close, so close, the knot in her belly tightening with each stroke, and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold back much longer. 

She whimpered, biting down hard on her bottom lip as the pleasure built to a fever pitch. Her mind was a mess, a swirl of desire, shame, and confusion, but her body didn't care. It wanted release. Needed it.

And then, with a sharp, breathless gasp, she came.

The orgasm ripped through her, her cock pulsing as thick streams of cum shot out, soaking her knickers and dripping onto the floor beneath her. Her entire body convulsed with the force of it, her breath coming in ragged, uneven pants as she rode out the waves of pleasure, each pulse of her cock making her shudder helplessly in her chair.

When it finally subsided, she slumped forward, her forehead resting on the desk, her entire body trembling. Her cock was still half-hard between her legs, sensitive and throbbing, but the haze of pleasure was quickly giving way to something else—disgust. Shame. Horror at what she'd just done. 

What had happened to her? Why was this happening?

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