Hypnotic Heart Eyes

The giant screen lit up with a bright pink glow, and the letters danced as if mocking her.

Hypnotic Heart Eyes.

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, and warm saliva immediately trickled down her cheeks, seeping through her plump, perpetually parted lips. Resistance grew harder with each round—her body seemed to accept the changes faster than her mind. She stood on the stage, short, with her ridiculous, oversized clothes hanging on her huge round ass, and slowly exhaled. The audience’s tense laughter filled the air, but she no longer tried to scream or thrash in **** rage. She simply… waited.

— Sht… what are you… — her voice was wet, hoarse — doing… already… She swallowed, but the saliva immediately returned, dripping down her chin. — I… thtill… can’t… change… anything…

The Collar of Fate flared with blinding pink light, and a hot wave of magic struck her forehead, piercing her skull and surging straight into her eye sockets. Ginny flinched, her fingers convulsively digging into her cheeks. The sensation was unbearably intimate—as if invisible hands were smearing paint over her pupils, reshaping them from within like soft wax. She groaned, her nails digging into her skin, but not from pain—from a strange, almost pleasant burning.

First, her hazel eyes lightened, like diluted watercolor. Then a soft, smoky pink hue seeped into them, as if someone had dripped cherry syrup into the iris. Their shape began to change—her eyelids swelled, her lashes grew longer, and her eyes themselves enlarged, becoming rounder, more… alluring. And finally—something new stirred in their depths: tiny, trembling pink hearts, ready to flare at the slightest arousal or surge of emotion.

Ginny blinked once, twice, a third time—and the world around her transformed. Colors became richer, almost sticky, like jam, and the audience’s gazes suddenly gained weight, pressing down on her shoulders. She stared at the nearest monitor and froze. A stranger with eyes capable of hypnotizing an entire army stared back at her. Beautiful. Mesmerizing. And… not Weasley at all.

— …Done… — she exhaled, wiping saliva from her chin with the back of her hand. Her voice trembled, but the hysteria was gone—only exhausted resignation remained. — Not the wortht. At leasht, I can thtill thee. Could’ve been blind or with empty eyeth like… like Mum…

Inside, there was no boiling rage, no crushing despair. Something else took their place—thick, sticky acceptance. After Quidditch, which she had lost forever. After her body had been turned into a shortstack—short, plump, ridiculous. After these perpetually wet lips she could no longer control. The eye change… yes, it was bitter. Humiliating. But bearable. She could still think. She could still fight.

Jack stepped closer, his footsteps echoing dully across the stage. He tilted his head, examining her new face with professional interest, like an auctioneer appraising a prize item.

— Oh, Ginny… — his voice was soft, almost tender. — Now you’ve got truly hypnotic little eyes. Imagine how they’ll look when you’re aroused? Tiny hearts… Very cute. — He glanced at the audience. — The viewers definitely approve.

He turned to the large board and raised his hand, calling for silence.

— Ladies and gentlemen! The first round is complete! Let’s tally up the results for our determined Ginny Weasley!

The screen flared, and numbers danced in the air. The statistics glowed pink:

Cash Side: 500 Galleons and 1 Knut.

Bimbo Side: 3 transformations.

— Three bimbo cases and three cash cases! — Jack announced cheerfully, spreading his arms. — Ginny has received: Always Ready Lips with constant drooling, Shortstack Build… and, as you just saw, Hypnotic Heart Eyes! Not a bad result for the first round, especially considering how desperately our girl clings to her dignity!

The audience erupted into applause. Laughter, whistles, and individual shouts merged into a roaring vortex of sound. Ginny stood in the middle of the chaos, wiping away another stream of saliva. Her tiny body, with its disproportionately huge ass, looked ridiculous in her oversized clothes, but her back remained straight. For now.

Suddenly, the studio lights dimmed, and the dark zone above the monitor columns was illuminated by an ominous crimson glow. The Accountant’s silhouette emerged in the semi-darkness like a ghost appearing for a trial. His voice, deep and calm, rolled through the hall, silencing everyone:

— Ginny Weasley. — A pause. — I acknowledge your merits in the Second Wizarding War. You fought bravely. As did your entire family. — Another pause, heavier than the last. — Therefore, I am willing to make you an exceptional offer. Take the 500 Galleons and 1 Knut you’ve won… along with all your current transformations… and leave the game right now. — His voice turned icy. — This is a generous offer. It will only get worse from here.

The audience fell silent. Even the spectators’ breathing seemed to still. All eyes were on Ginny.

She stood motionless, tilting her head back to see the Accountant’s silhouette through her tear-filled eyes. Her new hypnotic pupils shimmered slightly, reflecting the light, while saliva continued to drip from her chin onto the floor. Images flashed through her mind: her mother. The empty gaze. The stupid giggling. A body that had once been strong, now only trembling in anticipation of the next treat. Not her. Not her mother. Something wearing her face.

Ginny shook her head sorrowfully. Her plump lips trembled, and saliva sprayed onto the stage. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms.

— Th… thank you… — her voice was barely audible beneath the weight of her thoughts. — But no. — She **** herself to straighten, despite the weight of her clothes pulling her down. — I can’t. I have to keep going.

Jack clapped, his smile widening even further, almost predatory.

— Now that’s character! — he exclaimed, turning to the audience. — Did you hear that, Accountant? Ginny Weasley refuses your offer and… continues the game!

The Accountant’s silhouette slowly dissolved into the darkness, like ink in water. Jack winked at Ginny, his eyes gleaming with delight.

— Welcome to the second round, shortstack, — he said, patting her on the shoulder. — Rest a bit. You’ve earned it.

Ginny remained alone in the center of the stage, short, with her enormous, jiggling ass swaying with every movement, her perpetually wet lips, and her new eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. She wiped away saliva and whispered to herself so quietly that even the microphones didn’t catch it:

— I’ll endure for Mum. I’ll endure everything!