Feet!?

Hermione shuddered as the official proclamation echoed through the Great Hall. All before her were confused faces murmuring, reverberating Hermione’s own seemingly mistaken assumption that the hat was limited to four female houses. Maybe it was simply the hat misspeaking or having fun.

Those theories quickly evaporated as Hermione felt a tingle in her most intimate region start to trickle downwards from the top of each thigh, intensifying and gathering momentum as it surged into her trembling calves before crescendoing into a torrents of pure electricity at the ankle before the pressure accumulated in her shoes, looking to continue its journey but finding no outlet. This energy, an insufferable cumulus of pleasure and pain gathering in Hermione’s foot like an inverse cramp of pins and needles.

The sensation showed no sign of abating and Hermione had **** but to frantically claw at her shoe laces before desperately yanking off her shoes and socks not a moment too soon: her feet began to lengthen and expand into a pair one might consider NBA-compatible. Even her toes stretched further than before, splayed, and wriggled with a frenetic intensity though impressively dexterous. Even Pansy, still acclimatising to her freshly spanked anaconda, couldn’t help but smirk at Hermione coming to terms with her clownish proportions. What came next made Pansy laugh out loud, forgetting her own plight for a wonderful moment.

As Hermione’s feet finally stopped growing, she barely had a chance to absorb her new wiggly appendages before they started to shine. They were sweating oil, locked in a state of permanently slick shine and moisture. It was horrifying and Hermione tried to dab at them with a discarded sock before the contact with her foot flooded her sexual arousal to the point she hit the floor.

The former Gryffindor tried to get back to her feet, but each time they came into contact with the ground, she was flooded with arousal. Her soles seemingly now hyper-erogenous zones.

She had to crawl off the stage, on her hands and knees, with her oily feet and splayed wriggling toes raised up behind her. A smug Slytherine boy muttered “dirty mudblood”, pinched a toe, and **** her to moan in ecstasy as she was brought closer to the brink of orgasm. As Madame Pomfrey would explain to the distraught girl not 48 hours later; it was a brink she wouldn’t be able to cross until a wizard ejaculates onto her feet.

In the shadows, Mafalda Prewett smirked at her handiwork. She may have lost herself for several years in the quantum realm… but she had finally returned with the power to warp reality. She would cement herself in history as Hogwarts’ top girl once and for all.