While the entire wizarding world was immersed in the peaceful atmosphere of Christmas, this place, once eternally filled with laughter and the aroma of food, was shrouded in a suffocating sadness and despair that was nearly tangible.
The flames in the fireplace no longer leaped cheerfully as they once did. Instead, they licked feebly at the damp firewood, emitting a hissing sound like a sigh, barely providing a warmth that was better than nothing for this crooked house.
No Christmas tree, no holly wreaths, no twinkling lights, and certainly no novelty Christmas decorations scavenged from the Muggle world. The living room was empty, save for a few pieces of lonely old furniture, silently bearing the heavy sorrow that almost condensed into substance in the air.
In past years, the long dining table would have been piled high with all sorts of Christmas treats personally baked by Molly Weasley.
But now, the tabletop was bare, covered only by a thin layer of undisturbed dust.
Molly Weasley was missing.
It had been nearly two months.
She was like a stone thrown into the sea, causing no ripples, disappearing from everyone's world silently and without a trace.
For the Weasley family, this wasn't just losing a family member; the sky had collapsed.
Molly was the soul of this home, the bond connecting everyone, the harbor that could always heal everything with a piping hot meal and a warm hug.
Without her, the entire family was like a corpse with its spine removed, collapsing instantly.
Her husband, Arthur, seemed to have aged twenty years in just one month.
Arthur's thinning red hair was now visibly interspersed with large patches of grey.
He was no longer keen on his research of Muggle artifacts. He sat in the worn armchair by the fireplace all day long, staring blankly at the weak firelight, sitting there for a whole day.
Arthur had tried every possible way.
He used all his connections in the Ministry of Magic and begged everyone he could.
Aurors came wave after wave, turning the whole house upside down, yet couldn't even find a strand of hair belonging to an outsider.
He even invited experts from the Ministry most skilled in tracking and counter-dark magic, using the oldest and most precise Bloodline Tracking Sorcery.
They took blood from every child, trying to locate Molly through that unbreakable blood connection.
However, every result was despairing.
That red line composed of bloodline power, which should have pointed in a clear direction, would circle a few times in the air and then dissipate out of thin air like a wisp of smoke blown away with a poof.
There were only two possibilities.
Either Molly was already dead, killed by some extremely vicious dark magic capable of completely annihilating the soul, leaving not a trace in the mortal world.
Or... she was isolated by some more powerful, unknowable force, a force that even transcended the scope that ancient bloodline magic could pry into.
Whichever possibility it was, for the Weasley family, it was tantamount to death by a thousand cuts.
Bill and Charlie both rushed back from abroad, and Fred and George also stayed obediently at home.
Percy, who had once run away from home due to a falling out, appeared at the door of the Burrow with red eyes the day after receiving the news.
The entire Weasley family was reunited unprecedentedly because of this huge disaster.
But there were no more quarrels, jokes, or playfulness of the past.
Everyone was like a walking corpse with their soul removed, wandering silently and numbly in this house soaked in sadness.
Ron had lost a lot of weight. He was no longer as greedy for food as before. Most of the time, he locked himself in the attic room, seeing no one.
Ginny became unusually silent. This once lively and vibrant girl now always hugged her knees, curled up in a corner of the sofa, eyes swollen red like two ripe peaches, saying nothing.
The entire Weasley family fell into a huge grief of empathy. Because they knew better than anyone that Molly's disappearance was definitely not accidental.
In a pure-blood wizarding family full of love and warmth like the Weasleys, a mother, a wife, could just evaporate from the world in her own home, in broad daylight, without leaving a trace.
This in itself was an incomparably terrifying thing.
A rapid and loud crack, like firecrackers, sounded without warning in the yard outside the door!
That was not the slight pop of ordinary wizard Apparition, but the collective Apparition spell belonging to Ministry Aurors, specially trained, full of power and efficiency!
Arthur stood up abruptly from the chair. The children upstairs were also startled by this huge noise, rushing out of their rooms with pale faces one by one, thinking the final, worst news had finally arrived.
The door was pushed open by a powerful force from the outside.
Leading them was Kingsley Shacklebolt.
His iconic deep purple robe rattled in the cold wind. His tall body almost filled the entire door frame, his face wearing a rare, complex expression mixed with fatigue and relief.
"Arthur!" His voice was low and powerful, penetrating the deathly silence in the room. "We found her."
These words, like lightning at the beginning of creation, fiercely split the thick and desperate dark cloud accumulated over the Weasley family's heads for a month!
Time seemed to freeze at this moment.
Immediately after, an ecstasy suppressed for too long erupted like a volcano!
"Oh, Merlin... Oh, Merlin!" Arthur's lips trembled violently. Scalding tears instantly welled up in his muddy eyes. He almost stumbled and crawled, rushing towards the door.
"Mom!"
"Mom is back!"
The children let out deafening cheers mixed with crying tones!
Behind Kingsley, two young Aurors carefully supported a woman wearing a plain grey robe, walking in slowly.
It was Molly!
It was really her!
She looked... somewhat different.
Her face was pale as paper, eyes carrying a hollow blankness as if recovering from a serious illness, but she was intact. No wounds, no shackles, just a bit thinner... no, wait.
"Molly! Oh, my Molly!" Arthur had already rushed in front of her. He opened his arms, using all his strength to rub his regained wife into his embrace!
He missed this hug; he missed it for two months!
He buried his face in his wife's familiar red hair emitting a faint fragrance, wailing like a lost child who found home.
However, the moment he hugged her, an incredibly weird thing happened.
Held tightly in her husband's arms, Molly's body stiffened violently the moment she was touched!
That wasn't the relaxation and trembling of surviving a disaster and falling into a loved one's embrace, but a... most instinctive, violent stiffness and repulsion generated as if touched by something cold, dirty, and disgusting!
Molly's spine straightened instantly, as if someone had pressed a red-hot iron rod fiercely against her spine. Molly's hands raised subconsciously, palms open. That posture wasn't to hug her husband back at all, but... wanting to push him away fiercely!
This resisting movement lasted less than half a second.
Molly seemed to realize her loss of composure too. A trace of panic flashed in her hollow eyes. Her raised arms dropped weakly again, letting her husband hug her. But the muscles all over her body remained tense as a stone, emitting a silent, strong aura named "rejection."
Because of excessive excitement, Arthur didn't notice his wife's subtle, weird reaction. He just held her, incoherently kissing her hair and cheeks again and again.
But the children rushing up immediately after felt it.
"Mom!" Bill, the steadiest eldest son, reached out wanting to put his hand on his mother's shoulder to give her some support and comfort.
However, just as his hand touched the grey robe on his mother.
"Ah!" Molly was like a cat whose tail was stepped on; her whole person shrank violently to the side!
Her body shuddered violently and exaggeratedly, as if Bill's hand carried some terrible curse capable of burning her.
This reaction was simply too obvious.
Everyone's movements paused.
The ecstatic atmosphere just rising in the living room seemed to have been splashed by a basin of ice water, cooling down quietly a few degrees.
"Mom, what's wrong?" Fred and George also gathered around. They habitually wanted to sandwich her from both sides, giving her a Weasley twin-style warm hug.
"Don't touch me!"
This time, Molly almost screamed out! Her voice was hoarse, sharp, full of pure, unconcealable terror and... disgust!
Like avoiding a plague, she broke free from Arthur's embrace abruptly, stumbling back several steps until her back hit the cold wall before stopping.
She hugged her chest with both hands, looking at her husband and sons with a terrified face, as if they were some terrible monsters that would hurt her.
The living room fell into dead silence.
Kingsley sighed, stepped forward, and explained in a low voice: "Arthur, don't worry.
She was just rescued and suffered a great shock. Mentally... she might have some PTSD. Give her some time."
He briefly explained what happened: Molly inadvertently walked into the back alley of Jerry's Crystal Golem Workshop, which was not open to the public.
She was mistaken for an alchemy master familiar with the production process by a group of spies from the "False Olympic Pantheon World Cluster" ambushing there and was abducted on the spot.
Fortunately, when the other party tried to return through an unstable world rift, they were discovered by scouts of the Ministry of Magic's Frontline Legion. After a fierce battle, Molly and several other kidnapped independent alchemists were successfully rescued.
This explanation was reasonable and allowed the Weasley family to temporarily put down the doubts in their hearts. They all thought Molly was frightened by those terrible otherworld spies.
"Oh, poor Molly..." Arthur looked at his wife's terrified appearance, heartbroken beyond measure.
He dared not step forward again, only reaching out his hand, comforting softly: "It's okay, dear, we're home, you're safe..."
Under everyone's comfort, Molly's emotions seemed to calm down a little. She lowered her head, daring not to look into anyone's eyes, only saying in a voice as thin as a mosquito: "I... I'm tired."
Just then, everyone finally had the opportunity to carefully examine the hostess who had been missing for a month.
Then, everyone opened their mouths wide in surprise.
This... was this still the Molly they were familiar with?
In their memory, Molly, due to years of hard work and bearing seven children, had a figure that had become somewhat bloated and stout, carrying a kind of maternal plumpness.
But this woman in front of them...
Her waist had actually become unusually slender, as if it could be held by one hand.
But this slender waist contrasted with the curves of her upper body and the contours of her lower body, which were plump to the point of exaggeration!
That grey, plain, even somewhat loose robe couldn't hide the proudly standing, breathtaking arc on her chest at all.
Two snow-white giant masses, as if ripened by some magical magic, propped up the robe to an incredible height.
Like two huge fruits full of elasticity and aggression, ready to spray juice at any time.
And her buttocks had undergone a transformation that could be called a "miracle."
Originally somewhat flat due to sedentary lifestyle and childbirth, they now became unusually, incredibly round and perky!
That perfect arc like a peach, even through the loose robe, allowed people to clearly imagine what a firm, full, amazingly elastic beautiful scenery was underneath.
The figure of the whole person was just like that old proverb said—slender branches bearing heavy fruit.
The skin that once appeared somewhat rough due to hard work also became delicate, smooth, and even revealed an abnormal, lustrous glow like milk.
How was this a poor victim who was kidnapped and tortured?
This was clearly a... perfect work of art carefully "cultivated" and "watered" in the most top-tier, most luxurious way to please some supreme existence!
"Mom... you..." Ron stared dumbfounded at his mother, unable to say a word.
Molly felt uncomfortable all over being stared at by everyone's gaze mixed with surprise, doubt, and inquiry.
Her hands subconsciously protected her overly plump chest, body also curling up slightly, as if wanting to hide this body that had been "modified" excessively again.
"I... they... the things they gave me to eat... were very strange..."
She used a voice almost crying, full of grievance and shame, fabricating a reason she didn't believe herself for this strange body.
Arthur immediately came back to his senses. He stepped forward heart-brokenly, took off his coat, and draped it over his wife, shielding her from those gazes that made him feel somewhat uncomfortable too.
"Alright, alright, stop looking!"
He scolded the children in a low voice, "Your mother is tired! Let her rest well!"
This time, he didn't try to hug her again, just carefully extending his hand, wanting to support her arm and lead her to the most comfortable armchair belonging to her in front of the fireplace.
However, just the moment his fingertips touched her arm—
Molly's body trembled violently again!
"Squelch... hiss..."
An extremely slight sticky water sound, audible only to herself, rang abruptly from between her legs.
Immediately after, an uncontrollable, scalding, surging heat flow, like a flood bursting a dam, gushed out from the deepest part of Molly's body, that passage which had long been developed to be incredibly slippery and sensitive!
That wasn't peace of mind felt from the touch of a loved one.
But a... most violent, shameful "rejection reaction" caused by system disorder produced by her body, which had been engraved with the deepest and basest brand, after being touched by a "non-master," unpermitted male!
This sudden, surging flood instantly soaked Molly's panties completely, then flowed unscrupulously down her inner thighs. Molly could even feel that sticky liquid carrying her own body temperature beginning to drip onto the ground along her thighs.
"Ah!"
Molly couldn't hold it anymore, letting out a short scream full of shame and pain.
Her legs went soft abruptly, her whole person almost collapsing to the ground.
"Molly!"
Arthur was startled by her sudden reaction and quickly reached out, hugging her whole person from behind to prevent her from falling.
But this hug belonging to her husband, full of concern and love, was no less than the cruelest torture for the current Molly!
Another more surging flood mixed with deeper desire erupted from her body again!
"Squelch... squelch... splatter..."
That lewd and clear water sound became impossible to conceal at this moment!
Molly could clearly feel that between her legs had turned into a muddy swamp.
"No... no... let me go... please... let me go..."
Molly's reason collapsed completely at this moment.
She no longer played the survivor wife and mother but like an injured female beast whose sorest spot was stepped on, began to struggle madly and hysterically in her husband's arms!
Molly's hands and feet pushed and hit Arthur's body desperately.
What came out of Molly's mouth was no longer human language, but bursts of whimpers and wails full of pain, shame, and extreme disgust, like a beast!
This was no longer PTSD.
Accompanied by a beast-like, desperate roar, Molly used her last bit of strength to push Arthur hugging her away fiercely.
The power erupted in this instant was so great that Arthur staggered back several steps before barely standing firm.
Molly, having broken free from restraints, was like a trapped beast finally escaping the cage, heavily injured. She didn't even look back at her husband and children, scrambling and crawling towards the stairs using both hands and feet. Her movements were so wretched, so panicked, as if countless evil ghosts were chasing her behind.
Rushing up that familiar creaking wooden stairs, without looking back, she plunged headlong into the bedroom she shared with Arthur, then with a bang, slammed the door shut fiercely. Immediately after was the decisive click of the bolt being locked deathly tight.
The entire Burrow instantly fell into dead silence again.
In the living room, the Weasley family members stood frozen in place like statues petrified by a spell. That ecstasy just risen due to reunion, like a flame, was completely extinguished by this basin of bone-chilling reality, not even a wisp of smoke remaining.
"She... she was just... scared bad."
Bill, the oldest child, squeezed this sentence out of his throat with difficulty.
His voice was dry and hoarse; rather than comforting his family, it was more like desperately convincing himself. "After all, she was locked up for almost two months... those... those people... must have done terrible things to her..."
"Right! Dad, Bill is right!"
Charlie immediately echoed. He walked to Arthur's side, placing his hand on his father's violently trembling shoulder. "Mom is just sick!
The healers at St. Mungo's can definitely cure her! She will definitely turn back!"
"Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder..." Percy pushed his glasses, reading this term in a pedantic, trembling tone: "I've seen similar cases in Ministry books... victims will have strong stress reactions to specific environments or crowds... this is normal..."
At least, Molly is back!
This thought, like the only fragile life-saving straw in endless darkness, was gripped deathly tight by everyone.
No matter what Molly became, no matter what she experienced.
But at least, Molly was still alive; she returned to this home.
This was enough.
Everything would get better.
It definitely would.
In the living room of the Burrow, no one spoke anymore.
Only the flames in the fireplace crackled.
And at the other end of England, in the warm and bright dining room of the Granger home, the flames in another fireplace were burning vigorously.
The Christmas dinner was nearing its end.
Mr. Granger had obviously drunk a bit too much. His cheeks glowed with a healthy flush, enthusiastically pulling Hermione, recounting the glorious history of his youth.
Hermione listened absent-mindedly. The silver table knife in her hand scratched gently and unconsciously on the plate, making subtle, somewhat harsh sounds.
Hermione's gaze, however, had been staring dead at that empty doorway leading to the corridor.
They had been gone for almost fifteen minutes.
A series of light footsteps, carrying a bit of deliberately added weight, came from the corridor.
Mrs. Granger was back.
On Mrs. Granger's face hung a lazy and satisfied smile like a cat that had eaten a full meal.
Her walking posture seemed slightly different from just now—her waist twisted more wantonly, and her steps carried a faint lightness belonging to a victor.
Mrs. Granger returned to her seat, picked up the wine glass, and took a gentle sip of that expensive Bordeaux red wine. That flush on her face arising from desire and not yet fully faded was perfectly disguised by Mrs. Granger as the effect of alcohol.
"Ah, you're back, dear!"
Mr. Granger finally finished his lengthy story. He looked at his wife and said with a smile, "I was just telling Hermione that this roast turkey you made is simply the best I've ever eaten in my life!"
"Is that so?" Janet responded nonchalantly. Her gaze crossed her husband's shoulder and landed on Hermione's face.
Another minute or two passed before another set of footsteps sounded unhurriedly.
Jerry was back.
On Jerry's face, it was still that innocent and harmless expression belonging to a boy.
As if Jerry really just went to the bathroom as simple as that. Jerry returned to his seat, picked up the napkin again, and wiped the corner of his mouth.
"How was it, Jerry?" Mr. Granger asked enthusiastically. "Didn't get lost, right?"
"No, Mr. Granger." Jerry smiled, raising his head. His gaze lingered on Janet's face for a moment, then fell on Hermione's face again. "Your house is very beautiful, and the bathroom... is also cleaned very cleanly.
I like it very much."
When Jerry said the words "very cleanly," Mrs. Granger's breathing stagnated violently uncontrollably.
She felt that between her legs, that private place just cleaned and changed into clean panties, seemed to start faintly and uncontrollably heating up and getting wet again. In her mind, that scene instantly emerged again: in that narrow space just now, how she knelt on the cold tile floor like a humble bitch, using her tongue to lick all the filth produced by this boy clean, bit by bit, carefully... that extremely shameful picture.
And Hermione keenly captured that fleeting abnormal flush on her mother's face and that trace of morbid light full of humiliation yet carrying endless aftertaste in her eyes.
She instantly understood what kind of dirty, thorough, unilateral conquest had happened behind that closed door during the fifteen minutes she waited.
Mr. Granger was completely unaware of this turbulent undercurrent under the table. Hearing Jerry's praise, he immediately laughed happily: "Haha! Really? That's all your Aunt Granger's credit! She has a cleanliness obsession!"
As he spoke, he patted the back of his wife's hand affectionately.
Janet stiffened all over by his touch, almost knocking over the wine glass in her hand. She withdrew her hand almost subconsciously and quickly; that reaction was like avoiding some deadly virus.
"What's wrong, dear?"
Mr. Granger was stunned by her violent reaction.
"Nothing!"
Mrs. Granger immediately squeezed out a perfect, elegant smile. She wiped her mouth with a napkin, covering the panic in her eyes: "Just... hand is a bit numb.
By the way, Hermione, didn't you say you have some difficult problems in History of Magic that you want to ask Jerry about?"
This stiff transition was like throwing a stone into a calm lake.
Hermione was ice-snow smart and immediately understood her mother's intention—this was diverting disaster, and also showing off her just-obtained "battle results" to her daughter.
"Yes," she spoke, voice crisp and cold, "I was just wondering about the role of alchemy in the Goblin Rebellions, especially whether the restrictions of Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration on food replication were bypassed by some radical goblin alchemy factions from the beginning, and if so, through what medium did they achieve it?"
Jerry listened but didn't answer immediately.
Just then, Mr. Granger, who had been drinking silently, suddenly yawned heavily.
"Oh... sorry, sorry..."
Mr. Granger rubbed his eyes, gaze starting to become somewhat unfocused. "Don't know what's going on... the aftereffect of this wine today... is really strong..."
Mrs. Granger's heart jumped violently.
She subconsciously glanced at the wine glass in front of her husband, which was almost empty, then quickly glanced at Jerry.
That glass of wine was poured full by her personally when she got up to get ice cubes from the kitchen just now.
The drug effect began to kick in.
"Yes, dear, you indeed drank a lot today." Mrs. Granger suppressed the panic in her heart and said softly, "It seems my dentist husband has much more interest in wine tasting than in teeth."
"Haha... nonsense... my life's... most successful investment..."
Mr. Granger's tongue started to get a bit tied. He chuckled, his whole person falling into a half-drunk, half-awake confused state, "Is... marrying you... my dear Janet... you are the most... most elegant and beautiful woman I have ever seen..."
Mr. Granger began to fall into memories of the past, speaking incoherently, ignoring others at the table.
Gemini said
Jerry's left foot, the one in the small black leather shoe, found Hermione's foot clad in the high heel.
Unlike Hermione's tentative teasing earlier, his movement was filled with unquestionable aggression. His toe pressed directly and roughly onto the bridge of her foot wrapped in the stocking, and then, he pressed down hard!
"Mmph!"
Hermione felt a burst of sharp pain on her foot, as if it were clamped by iron pincers.
She instinctively tried to pull her foot back, but found his strength astonishingly great. Her foot was pinned to the floor, unable to move at all!
"Jerry... it hurts!"
Jerry's entire attention was focused on the other prey.
Under the cover of the tablecloth, Jerry's right hand, like a viper lying in wait, slid silently onto Mrs. Granger's thigh.
In that instant, Mrs. Granger's body shuddered violently as if electrocuted!
She instinctively wanted to close her legs, but Jerry's fingers seemed magical as they gave a firm yet gentle pinch on her voluptuous inner thigh, encased in the red suspender stockings.
Just that single pinch caused Mrs. Granger's body, which had just calmed down, to become shamefully wet again in an instant.
A scalding heat surged from the deepest part of Mrs. Granger's body, making her feel as though the area between her legs was turning into a muddy swamp once more.
"Mrs. Granger!" Jerry finally spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but it reached the ears of Janet and Hermione clearly. "Your daughter's question is very interesting.
However, I feel that before discussing such profound academic issues... we should solve some... more practical problems first."
His hand moved up along Mrs. Granger's thigh.
That hand was so young, the fingers slender, yet it carried an irresistible power filled with control.
Jerry's fingertips glided over the smooth fabric of the stockings.
Finally, they stopped at the edge of her mysterious, absolute forbidden zone.
Janet's breathing stopped completely.
No... don't...
Not here...
Absolutely not...
However, Mrs. Granger's body made the most honest reaction.
Mrs. Granger didn't push away the hand ravaging her leg.
In fact, guided by Jerry, her legs uncontrollably parted slightly, creating a gap.
"...I remember... our first date... Janet, you wore a blue dress... heavens... you were as beautiful as an angel..." Mr. Granger's slurred, love-filled dream talk reached the ears of everyone at the table clearly.
And amidst these murmurs filled with warmth and love, the woman he praised as an "angel" was being teased in the most shameless way by another "man" right under his nose.
Jerry's finger, through the thin fabric of her panties, accurately found the mysterious mound that had already become slippery and slightly swollen from arousal. Jerry's finger unceremoniously circled the most sensitive nub, now engorged, in an extremely slow yet incredibly tormenting manner.
"Ah... mmh..."
Mrs. Granger bit her lower lip deathly tight to stop the shameful moan about to burst from her throat.
Her nails dug deep into the palm of her other hand, trying to use pain to counter the waves of overwhelming pleasure that threatened to wash away her reason completely.
But this was far from enough.
Jerry seemed to find this game of scratching the surface too boring.
He looked at Mrs. Granger and mouthed two words silently.
Come here!
Mrs. Granger trembled all over, looking at him in disbelief.
Jerry's meaning... she understood instantly.
No... this is too crazy... this is absolutely impossible...
Jerry's magic began to extend slowly towards Mrs. Granger's body.
"No... don't!"
Mrs. Granger's body began to move in an extremely slow posture filled with stiffness and resistance.
Gripping the edge of the table tightly, Mrs. Granger moved her expensive chair silently toward Jerry.
Then, under the huge shadow of the tablecloth sufficient to hide all sins, she unzipped Jerry's trousers with hands trembling uncontrollably.
When that hideous giant object, which had just ravaged her mouth and throat in the bathroom and was still shocking in size even in a semi-erect state, was exposed before her eyes again, Mrs. Granger felt her brain go blank with a boom.
"Sit down."
Jerry's voice rang in her ear like a devil's whisper.
Mrs. Granger's tears finally burst forth.
She closed her eyes like a prisoner going to execution, leaned her upper body forward on the table, supporting herself with her elbows, feigning a posture of resting due to fatigue.
But under the table where no one could see, Mrs. Granger lifted her bright red Santa girl tutu bit by bit, revealing the voluptuous and sexy long legs wrapped in red suspender stockings underneath, and that mysterious garden already soaked by her own body fluids, emitting the unique scent of a mature woman.
Mrs. Granger's legs were trembling violently.
Mrs. Granger's heart was bleeding madly.
Mrs. Granger spread her legs, which used to open only for her husband, aiming at that huge meat root which had completely awakened and become scalding hard due to her approach.
Then, inch by inch, Mrs. Granger sat down on that "torture tool" representing sin, shame, and betrayal.
Squelch!
An extremely slight sound of flesh being forcibly propped open, filled with sticky texture, rang out under the table.
"Mmph!"
Mrs. Granger's eyes widened abruptly, mouth wide open, yet unable to make any sound due to extreme pain and the intense stimulation of being completely penetrated!
Mrs. Granger's hands clawed at the smooth tabletop deathly tight, nails scratching against the surface making a harsh creak sound. An unprecedented flood mixed with severe pain and ultimate pleasure instantly washed away all her defenses!
Too big...
Even though she had been lubricated so wetly before, his thing was still unreasonably big! Mrs. Granger felt her narrow passage, developed only by her husband, being stretched to the limit by this unreasonable huge weapon, as if it would be torn apart alive in the next second!
Jerry leaned back comfortably in his chair, letting out a satisfied sigh from his throat.
He could even feel his tip had already hit Mrs. Granger's soft tender flesh never touched by foreign objects.
"Oh... dear Mrs. Granger!" Jerry lowered his head, leaning close to her ear, whispering in a voice filled with evil laughter audible only to the two of them, "It seems this place hasn't even been reached by Mr. Granger!"
With that, Jerry didn't give Janet any time to adapt and started moving.
Jerry's waist thrust upward abruptly, driving the giant object already completely submerged in her body deeper and harder inside!
Then, slowly, with a meaning of immense torture, withdrew a small half.
Squelch... squelch... squelch...
That sticky water sound that made one blush rang out unscrupulously under the dining table.
Every thrust brought out large amounts of crystal liquid mixed with both their body fluids, muddying her red stockings and his trousers.
Mrs. Granger lay on the table, body swaying slightly with his not fast but incredibly heavy and deep impacts. Mrs. Granger buried her face in the crook of her arm, biting her wrist deathly tight to prevent herself from making a sound.
Crystal tears and humiliating saliva mixed together, making her arm slippery.
This extreme shame filled with immorality and sin abnormally brought a stronger, morbid pleasure she couldn't resist!
Mrs. Granger's body had long betrayed her will, beginning to cater uncontrollably to every impact. Every deepening made that swamp in her body more flooded, muddier.
"...Mrs. Granger, do you think you are a slut or a virtuous wife and good mother?
Hmm?" Jerry's voice, malicious with laughter, rang in her ear again.
"Or perhaps, a virtuous wife on the surface, but a slut inside?
Does it make you enjoy it very much?"
These filthy words, every single one, were like a poisoned dagger stabbing fiercely into Mrs. Granger's heart, which was already riddled with holes.
"No... I'm not..." Mrs. Granger argued futilely in a voice as thin as a mosquito, carrying crying tones.
"Aren't you?"
"No... stop saying it..."
Just then!
"...Janet... wait... wait until I retire... we will... travel around the world..." Mr. Granger's blurred dream talk filled with love rang out clearly again, "Go... go to Paris... didn't you always... want to go..."
Paris.
The place they agreed to go when they were young but failed to make the trip due to various reasons.
This word struck Janet's mind like a thunderbolt!
Mrs. Granger's body stiffened abruptly!
The brain dominated by pleasure recovered a shred of clarity in that instant. She raised her head abruptly, looking through blurred teary eyes at the man sleeping peacefully beside her on the table, the man who had loved her all his life.
She... what on earth was she doing?!
An unprecedented, huge remorse and guilt sufficient to swallow Mrs. Granger completely drowned her instantly!
"No... No!!" Mrs. Granger's eyes became incredibly resolute at that moment. "Stop! You stop quickly! I don't want it... I don't want this anymore!"
Mrs. Granger seemed suddenly injected with infinite strength and began to struggle madly and violently!
She used her elbows to hit Jerry's chest, trying to break free from the pillar imprisoning her!
"I was wrong! I was really wrong! I shouldn't have betrayed my husband! Please... please let me go... nothing happened... between us!" Mrs. Granger lowered her voice, begging hysterically, her voice full of desperate remorse.
However, Mrs. Granger's resistance appeared so weak, so laughable in Jerry's eyes.
Even... more stimulating!
"Remembering to be a chaste woman now?
Too late!" A trace of cold anger at being disobeyed flashed in Jerry's eyes.
He pressed down on her constantly twisting slender waist, fixing her deathly tight on his giant object.
The movement under his crotch reached an unprecedented frequency like a violent storm in an instant!
"Mmph! Mmh mmh! No ah stop!"
All of Mrs. Granger's resistance was shattered under this violent, crushing impact!
Mrs. Granger only felt her soul and body being completely and repeatedly torn and crushed on this crazy boat of desire!
The pleasure in her body, like a detonated nuclear bomb, climbed madly in a devastating posture she couldn't control at all!
"No... don't... going... going to cum... ah... ahhhhhhhh!"
Mrs. Granger could no longer suppress her voice!
Right amidst her husband's dream talk, Mrs. Granger lay on her own dining table, and with a shrill scream full of despair and ultimate joy, her body arched backward violently, twitching as if in a severe spasm!
However, this scream was not the end, but the beginning of a deeper...
And more endless purgatory of sinking.
Mrs. Granger's orgasm spasm was so violent that her whole person was pushed from the prone posture by that irresistible huge force into an arched back, her slender waist drawing a desperate and graceful arc in the air like dying.
Mrs. Granger's legs straightened due to extreme pleasure, toes curling together. That Santa girl outfit soaked in body fluids stretched tightly over her body, which had been thoroughly modified and was plump as a ripe fruit, outlining every inch of trembling muscle lines.
And while her internal muscles contracted and squeezed madly and uncontrollably, trying to extract more pleasure from Jerry, another more shameful, weird "performance" quietly took place in the hidden forbidden zone behind her.
That fluffy tail anal plug stuffed in her body all night as a mark of humiliation was pushed out a section fiercely with every violent, spasm-like tightening of her buttock muscles.
When the force of that spasm passed slightly and the buttock muscles relaxed a bit, that round plug, unusually slippery from being covered with intestinal fluid and sweat, slid back a little due to gravity with a gurgle.
Immediately after, the next wave of stronger spasms hit, and the plug was pushed out more forcefully...
Squelch... gurgle... squelch... gurgle...
Just like this, that tail symbolizing Mrs. Granger's degradation from a noble lady to a lowly plaything, in Mrs. Granger's uncontrollable violent twitching, moved half in and half out rhythmically and shamefully like a heartbeat, staging a live erotic show full of visual impact and extreme obscenity.
Jerry didn't stop his movements because of Mrs. Granger.
On the contrary, he seemed even more excited by Mrs. Granger's dying struggle and completely out-of-control lewd appearance!
Jerry grabbed Mrs. Granger's two slender beautiful legs straightened due to spasms, lifting them roughly from the ground and placing them directly on his shoulders.
This posture made Janet fold up at an incredible angle.
Mrs. Granger's upper body still lay weakly on the cold dining table, while her lower body was completely unreservedly opened to this little devil behind her.
This posture allowed Jerry to enter deeper!
That huge meat root, becoming even harder and hotter from being squeezed violently by Mrs. Granger's orgasm just now, could now drive straight in without any hindrance with unprecedented depth. Every impact was like a battering ram, chiseling on her cervix which was still contracting violently and sensitive to the extreme!
"Ah! No... no more... please... stop... ahhh!"
Mrs. Granger let out heart-wrenching wails mixed with crying tones and endless joy.
She could no longer distinguish whether what flooded her body like a deluge was the afterglow of orgasm or a new round of pleasure triggered by this more brutal violation.
Squelch... squelch... slap! slap! slap!
Just at the moment this crazy storm full of humiliation and pleasure swept to the highest climax—
"Jan...?"
A vague voice, thick with sleepiness and full of doubt, rang out abruptly from the other end of the table where Janet was lying.
Time seemed to be pressed on the pause button at this moment.
Jerry's storm-like impacts stopped abruptly.
Mrs. Granger's pupils, dilated due to extreme pleasure, also recovered focus in an instant!
Mrs. Granger's body froze.
Even the muscles still twitching violently seemed frozen, solidifying instantly.
She used all her strength to lift that face covered in tears and saliva from the crook of her arm.
Then, Mrs. Granger saw it.
Her husband, Hermione's father, the man who had loved her all his life, was currently lying on the table, head slightly raised. A pair of eyes, incredibly muddy and unable to focus due to sleeping pills and alcohol, were looking at her blankly and confusedly.
Mr. Granger woke up.
Although only a brief, blurred wakefulness, he indeed woke up.
Mr. Granger might not see clearly that small figure gyrating madly behind his wife.
Mr. Granger might also not hear clearly what those water sounds and flesh impact sounds meant.
But he saw.
Mr. Granger saw his wife's face.
The beautiful face Mr. Granger had been familiar with all his life.
At this moment, it wore a lewd expression he had never seen, mixed with extreme pain, endless humiliation, and... that unconcealable morbid flush.
Mr. Granger saw Mrs. Granger's messy hair, that wretched cheek stained with unknown liquids.
Mr. Granger also smelled that rich scent in the air, mixed with sweat, body fluids, and... another fishy-sweet scent he was incredibly familiar with, belonging to male desire, full of aggression.
"Jan... are... are you... crying?"
Mr. Granger's voice was so light, so full of concern.
His paralyzed brain simply couldn't process this weird and terrifying scene before him, only able to make the most instinctive reaction out of love for his wife.
Mr. Granger even struggled, wanting to reach out to wipe the tears on his wife's face.
"NO!!!!!"
It burst out from Janet's throat!
At this moment, Mrs. Granger felt her world collapse completely.
All previous shame, immorality, and pain, at this moment, couldn't compare to one ten-thousandth of this Lingchi-like torture of being witnessed by her husband in her most lewd and lowly appearance!
Mrs. Granger went crazy.
Mrs. Granger went completely crazy!
Mrs. Granger's body was no longer catering to or resisting that giant object inserted in her body, but a pure crazy struggle originating from survival instinct, wanting to disappear from this world immediately!
"Let go of me! Animal! You devil! Let go of me!!!" Mrs. Granger began to use all her strength to kick and hit Jerry's body, using her voice hoarse from crying to utter the most vicious curses!
However, Mrs. Granger's madness only exchanged for a more cruel, more excited smile on that little devil's face.
"He saw it... Mrs. Granger... your husband, he saw it."
Jerry stated this fact cruelly in her ear with a tone close to chanting, full of pleasure, "...Say, when he wakes up tomorrow, how much will he remember?"
With that, under Mrs. Granger's bloodshot, despairing gaze, Jerry pulled out most of the length.
"Ah!"
Mrs. Granger let out a scream a hundred times more shrill than during her orgasm just now!
And Mr. Granger, upon hearing his wife's inhuman scream full of pain, a trace of violent, painful look flashed in his muddy eyes.
He seemed to want to say something; his mouth opened but only emitted a vague "No."
Then, his head tilted, and the whole person fell into a deep coma again.
This time, he wouldn't wake up again.
Because Hermione had put down the wand in her hand.
But that brief eye contact of a few seconds was deeply engraved on Mrs. Granger's soul like an indelible brand.
It's over.
Everything is over.
Mrs. Granger's body gave up all resistance in that instant.
Like a beautiful rag doll with all its soul drained, she collapsed softly, letting the little devil behind her do whatever he wanted, manipulating her body into various shameful postures convenient for his entry.
Mrs. Granger's eyes stared at the roast turkey on the table, long cold, symbolizing family and reunion.
A line of clear liquid, indistinguishable whether it was tears or something else, slid slowly from the corner of her hollow eye, dripping into the delicious gravy of the dish she roasted herself, her husband's favorite.
"Not finished yet... my dear Classmate's Mom." Jerry bent down, whispering intimately like a lover in her cold ear scattered with red hair.
Jerry didn't impact violently like a storm anymore but changed to a slower, grinding movement full of torture meaning.
Squelch... grind... squelch... grind...
That water sound was no longer the rapid squelch before, but a thicker, tooth-aching grind full of friction.
Every slow rotation brought out more love juices thick as glue, flowing slowly down along the joined parts, soaking Mrs. Granger's plump, perky buttocks into a crystal shine.
"Oh... oh oh... give you... all... to you..."
Accompanied by a suppressed, beast-like low roar, Jerry's waist arched upward violently. Immediately after, he began the final, sprint-like withdrawal!
Then, suddenly pulled out!
Squelch!
Part of these scalding hot liquids full of vitality, due to the huge momentum, shot directly onto Mrs. Granger's plump, round buttocks which appeared even more perky due to being lifted high.
More, due to gravity, poured back down!
However, just then!
A black, petite figure moved silently.
Hermione.
Hermione had left her seat at some point.
Then, she lowered her noble head belonging to "the smartest witch in Hogwarts history."
Hermione saw it.
The white, scalding flood falling from the sky, like a waterfall, watered this dilapidated garden, then flowed toward the ground along that unclosable gap.
Hermione didn't hesitate at all.
Hermione extended her small pink tongue, still carrying a trace of girlish sweet scent, to meet that downward-flowing white flood, blocking it, as if tasting a supreme, precious delicacy.
Hermione's tongue tip nimbly curled around that falling, viscous liquid.
A complex and rich taste mixed with boyish musk, mother's body fluid, and another familiar fishy scent full of aggression.
Exploded in Hermione's mouth instantly.
A very strange taste.
But it didn't make her feel nauseous.
There was even a trace of... morbid... excitement she couldn't understand herself.
"Can't let it... go to waste!"