High, squeaky, almost cartoonish bimbo squeak

The hall froze in tense anticipation, then exploded with loud, excited laughter and applause. On the huge screen, the fifth option lit up bright pink.

High, squeaky, almost cartoonish bimbo squeak.

Molly felt everything inside her drop. Her kind eyes widened in horror.

“No… please…” she whispered, but it was already too late.

The Fate Collar flashed bright pink at the base of her neck. Hot, pulsing magic poured down her throat like thick warm honey mixed with sparks. Molly grabbed her neck with both hands. Her fingers were shaking. She could feel her vocal cords literally reshaping — tightening, vibrating, getting thinner, higher, more helpless.

“Aaahh…” the first sound that came out was high-pitched, squeaky, nothing like her old warm motherly voice. It sounded like a dumb, excited cartoon girl. Molly’s cheeks burned with a bright, shameful blush. She clamped her hand over her mouth, and her bright pink curls swayed, gently sliding across her big tits.

The transformation kept going. Her throat burned with sweet heat. Every breath now came with a light, involuntary squeak. She tried to hold it back, but even breathing sounded childishly aroused now. The magic went deeper — into her tongue, her lips, her lungs. Her whole body broke out in goosebumps. Her nipples on her heavy mature tits instantly hardened into obvious bumps under the thin top. It got even hotter and wetter between her wide thighs. Shame and humiliation mixed with treacherous, forbidden arousal.

“Merlin, this is so fucking embarrassing…” she thought, squeezing her thighs tight. “I sound like… like a brainless doll. Arthur… the kids… what will they think?”

The new pink curls tickled her sensitive skin, making everything worse. Molly stood there breathing hard, every exhale accompanied by a high-pitched squeak. She decided right then — she would speak as little as possible. Better to stay quiet than make those humiliating sounds.

Jack stepped closer, grinning wide. His eyes openly roamed over her plump body — her massive tits, wide hips, and the new bright pink curls framing her mature motherly face.

“Oh, Molly… Just listen to yourself!” he laughed. “What a delicious squeaky little voice! Now you sound exactly how you should look. Say something for us, darling.”

Molly shook her head, lips pressed tight. Her eyes glistened with embarrassment. She felt naked — not just her body, but her voice too. Every word from now on would expose the new, changed woman she was becoming.

“Keep playing, Molly,” Jack said softly but firmly, leaning in closer. His breath brushed her ear. “The audience is waiting. You don’t want to disappoint them, do you? Pick the next number.”

Molly hesitated. Her full cheeks were burning. Finally she whispered, barely audible, in that high squeaky voice:

“N-number… twenty-one…”

It sounded so stupid and helpless that she immediately shut up, biting her plump lip. The hall burst into laughter and approving shouts.

Chrissy swayed her hips and opened the chest. Golden sign.

Cash.

A new step lit up on the board. Molly now had several whips. The hall gave polite applause, but was clearly disappointed there was no new bimbo change. Molly felt a small wave of relief. Her wide hips relaxed a bit, her heavy tits jiggling with the movement. She stayed silent, trying not to make any extra sounds. The new pink curls gently stroked her back and shoulders with every movement, sending little sparks of pleasure she tried to ignore.

“Good girl, Molly!” Jack praised. “Now the next one. Don’t keep us waiting, sweetie.”

Molly took a deep breath, trying to control her new voice. Even simple breathing sounded childishly arousing in that squeaky tone.

“Number… six…” she squeaked quietly, blushing even harder. Every word took huge effort. Shame burned in her chest and down in her belly.

Chrissy opened the next chest. Another golden sign. Cash. The hall let out a disappointed groan, but Molly felt the opposite — some of the tension inside her eased. Two cash cases in a row. She was almost done with the first round. Just one more — and she could breathe for a moment. Her mature, soft body relaxed a little. Her full tits rose and fell more steadily. The heat between her legs was still pulsing, but now mixed with relief. Her bright pink curls down to her ass swayed as she shifted from foot to foot, and the movement made her quietly squeak again from the unexpected rush of pleasure. Molly quickly covered her mouth with her hand. “Just one left…” she thought, trying not to look at the cameras. “I can hold on. For the family. For Arthur…”

Jack smiled, clearly enjoying her struggle and her new voice.

“Two cash cases in a row! Not bad, Molly. But the round isn’t over yet. Pick the last number for the first round, darling. The viewers are dying to see what happens next…”

The hall fell silent for a moment, then exploded with loud, excited laughter and applause. On the huge screen, the fifth option lit up bright pink.

High, squeaky, almost cartoonish bimbo squeak.

Molly felt her stomach drop. Her kind eyes widened in horror.

“No… please…” she whispered, but it was already too late.

The Fate Collar flashed bright pink at the base of her neck. A hot, pulsing wave of magic poured down her spine, spreading through her entire body — across her shoulders, her tits, her soft belly, her wide hips, and lower.

“Ohhh… no…” she squeaked thinly, unable to hold the sound back.

Her body started to burn. Not with pain, but with deep, sweet, almost erotic heat. The magic sank into her muscles, bones, and fat — reshaping, redistributing, improving… or ruining, depending on how you looked at it.

“Oh, Molly…” Jack spread his hands theatrically. “Last case of the first round, and another bimbo! Category — Body Shape!”

The big screen flashed with five new options. The audience was already reaching for their voting devices.

1. Perfect Hourglass — waist cinches down to an unnaturally tiny size, hips and tits become even bigger and rounder, creating a hyper-exaggerated, fuckable figure.

2. Juicy Pear — hips and ass grow significantly bigger and rounder, waist stays relatively soft, legs get thicker, putting all the focus on the lower body.

3. Top Heavy — tits swell to massive, heavy sizes, back arches, waist and hips stay almost the same, creating a strong emphasis on the top.

4. Long Legs and Petite — height shrinks a bit, legs become longer and slimmer relative to the body, giving her a younger, model-like look.

5. Soft and Plump All Over — the whole body gets noticeably fuller, softer, juicier — tits, belly, hips, ass all grow bigger, skin becomes velvety and hypersensitive.

Molly stood there breathing hard. Her current mature, soft figure — big tits, wide hips, round little belly — already felt too obvious, but these options…

She could feel the collar’s magic already tasting her body. Her skin tingled everywhere. Her tits grew heavier, her thighs trembled slightly. Shame washed over her in waves. She — a sixty-year-old mother of seven, respected witch who fought Voldemort — was now standing here in a tiny outfit, with bright pink curls down to her ass and a squeaky voice, while the audience was about to decide how her body would be reshaped next.

“P-please…” she squeaked quietly, but her voice came out so pitiful and arousing that the hall answered with another burst of laughter.

Molly squeezed her thighs tight. It was completely soaked between her legs now. The new curls caressed her skin with every breath. She felt every inch of her body — the softness of her belly, the weight of her tits, the width of her hips. All of it could change in seconds. Become even more obscene. Even more… bimbo.

Shame burned her cheeks, neck, and chest. But at the same time a warm, pulling arousal spread through her lower belly. The collar seemed to whisper that her body was no longer fully hers. That soon it would become even more noticeable, even more desirable to strangers’ eyes.

Molly covered her mouth with her palm, trying not to make extra sounds. Her eyes glistened with humiliation and a strange, forbidden anticipation. Her full, mature body trembled slightly under the spotlights.

Jack stepped closer, his gaze slowly dragging over her curves.

“Voting is open, dear viewers!” he announced loudly. “You have thirty seconds to decide exactly what our beautiful Molly Weasley’s figure will become. Choose… with feeling!”

He winked at the camera, then turned back to her:

“And you, Molly, just stand there and feel it. This is going to be fun…”

Molly stood on the stage, breathing heavily in her squeaky little breaths, bright pink curls swaying around her plump body. The collar pulsed in anticipation of the audience’s verdict. The first round was almost over, but she already understood — her body would never be the same again.