Shortstack Build

The audience fell silent for just a couple of seconds, but the tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Then the crowd exploded—a loud, lustful roar swept through the rows, full of anticipation and dirty delight. On the giant screen, the fifth option flared to life in bright pink flames.

Shortstack Build.

Ginny felt all the blood instantly drain from her face. Her eyes widened in pure, unfeigned horror.

— N-no… — she rasped, but her plump, perpetually parted lips turned it into a pitiful, wet: — N-nno… th… not thith…

She instinctively stepped back, but the Collar of Fate already flared with blinding pink light. A hot, thick wave of magic surged through her body—from her neck downward, spreading along her spine, hips, legs, and chest in a burning torrent.

— Aaaahhh… — Ginny doubled over, convulsively gripping the podium. Her once-strong legs trembled like a newborn foal’s.

The transformation struck suddenly and mercilessly. First, she felt her height begin to shrink rapidly. The bones of her legs and spine softened but insistently compressed, as if invisible hands were reshaping her anew. From her usual 165 cm, she quickly shrank to 152… 148… 142 centimeters. Ginny looked around in panic: the stage, the spotlights, even Jack—everything around her grew taller, towering over her, emphasizing her new, humiliating smallness.

— Wh-what are you doing! — she moaned. Saliva flowed abundantly over her new plump, glistening lips, dripping onto her chin.

Simultaneously, the lower part of her body began to change especially aggressively. Her thighs widened sharply, filling with soft but dense, firm flesh. Her buttocks grew quickly and boldly—her small, toned Quidditch athlete’s ass literally inflated, transforming into a huge, round, provocatively protruding "shelf ass." The skin stretched, becoming velvety and hyper-sensitive. Every new curve and fold sent a wave of strange, shameful warmth spreading through her body.

Her legs also shortened and thickened considerably: luscious thighs, soft, seductive calves. All her former athletic strength and endurance melted away before her eyes. Now these were the legs of a typical shortstack bimbo—short, thick, made more for spreading wide than for flying on a broom.

Her waist remained relatively narrow, but her chest noticeably swelled, becoming fuller and heavier. A soft, appetizing little belly appeared where her defined abs had once been. Her entire body became compact, low, but provocatively plump exactly where it mattered—a classic shortstack figure, as if sculpted specifically for someone else’s pleasure.

When the magic finally released her, Ginny’s clothes hung on her like a coat hanger. The white blouse was now enormous: the sleeves dangled, the collar slipped almost to her shoulder, and the skirt, which had once barely covered her knees, now reached almost to her ankles, gathering ridicously in folds. Her shoes flopped on her feet like boats.

Ginny stood, breathing heavily, and looked down at her new body. Short, squat, with a huge round ass and thick thighs that already rubbed against each other with every movement. Horror and bitterness overwhelmed her with new ****.

Inside, everything was tearing apart.

"My career…" she thought, feeling the sting of tears. "Quidditch… the Holyhead Harpies… it’s all over. With these short little legs and this… this monstrous, fat ass, I’ll never be able to fly properly again. I’m not an athlete anymore. I… I’m just a short, big-assed doll for entertainment…"

The thought caused almost physical pain. Quidditch had been her life, her passion, her pride. And now it had all been taken away in one cursed case. But Ginny clenched her fists, forcing herself to keep her composure. Her eyes still burned with stubbornness, despite the saliva dripping down her chin and the ridiculous way her clothes hung on her.

— I th… thtill continue… — she said with difficulty, her voice sounding wet, helpless, and childlike. — For Mum… I’ll do… eth… everything!

Jack looked at her with feigned sympathy, but his eyes sparkled with sadistic delight.

— Oh, Ginny… You look… incredibly appetizing now. So short, with that gorgeous, heavy ass. The clothes on you are just adorable. Audience, what do you think of our new shortstack?

The audience responded with delighted whistles, catcalls, and applause. Ginny stood, feeling how her new huge ass pulled her backward, and her thick thighs rubbed together with every breath. Every step would now remind her of what she was becoming. But she wasn’t going to give up.

A real storm raged inside her—bitterness over the loss of her beloved game, burning shame over her new body, rage at the show and at all these perverts in the audience. But above all else, one single thought burned:

"For Mum. I’ll endure. I’ll save her!"

She wiped the saliva from her chin and looked at Jack with a firm, though slightly trembling gaze.

— Continue… — she managed to say with effort. — I won’t thtop.

Ginny quietly muttered to herself under her breath, trying to pull herself together:

— Th… okay… — and immediately, a new stream of saliva trickled down her chin. She quickly wiped it away with the sleeve of her now-too-big blouse.

Despite the humiliation, there was still determination burning in her eyes.

— Number twenty-theven. — she said with visible effort. Each word was accompanied by a wet smack and a slight slurping sound.

Chrissy, swaying her hips in her usual sexy gait, approached chest #27 and opened it. A golden symbol flashed on the screen.

Cash.

The audience let out a disappointed sigh, but Ginny felt a heavy weight lift from her heart. A new step lit up on the cash board—now she had 500 Galleons. She exhaled loudly, her shoulders relaxing slightly. Her huge ass jiggled with the movement, reminding her of the recent humiliation, but right now, that didn’t matter. A cash case. At least some respite.

— Th… finally… — she whispered with obvious relief, involuntarily smiling with her trembling lips. Saliva flowed down her chin again, but she barely noticed. — A little more… and I can…

Jack smiled at her almost affectionately, but his eyes gleamed with mockery.

— Congratulations, Ginny! Five hundred Galleons—that’s not bad for a start. See? Luck sometimes smiles even on the most stubborn and drool-lipped girls. Can you taste victory?

Ginny nodded, wiping away saliva. For a second, she allowed herself to believe she could turn this cursed game around.

— Yeth… I thaid… I won’t thtop, — she replied, though her speech sounded wet and far less confident than before.

Jack theatrically waved his hand:

— Then let’s continue! Choose the next number, dear.

Ginny swallowed another mouthful of saliva, feeling it slide down her throat. She tried to keep her composure, despite how ridiculous she looked now—short, with a huge ass, in baggy clothes, and with constantly wet, parted lips.

— Number eleven. — she said.

Chrissy opened chest #11.

A silvery bimbo silhouette flashed brightly on the screen. The audience erupted again in delighted cheers and whistles.

Ginny froze. Her short, now plump legs buckled slightly. She closed her eyes for a second, feeling a new wave of anger and despair wash over her.

— Th… no… again… — she moaned in a wet, slurred voice. Saliva flowed abundantly down her chin and dripped onto her blouse.

Jack laughed delightedly.

— Oh, Ginny… Fourth case, and already the third bimbo! You’re clearly the star of the show today. The category is… Eyes!

The big screen above the board lit up with five new options. The audience eagerly reached for their magical remotes.

1. Big Doe Eyes – Huge, round, innocent eyes with long, lush lashes, giving a permanent expression of surprised, helpless doll.

2. Bedroom Eyes – Heavy, sultry, perpetually half-lidded gaze, as if she had just pulled away from sex or really wanted to.

3. Sparkling Bimbo Blue – Bright blue, sparkling, almost neon eyes with a magical shimmer that’s impossible to ignore.

4. Hypnotic Heart Eyes – Eyes with a slight pink tint and a shape that sometimes turns into hearts when she’s aroused.

5. Vacant Doll Eyes – Large, shiny, but almost empty eyes with minimal emotional expression—the classic look of a dumb bimbo doll.

Ginny stood, breathing heavily. Saliva continuously dripped from her plump lips. She read the options, and her insides twisted with disgust. Her usual bright hazel eyes—a part of her strong, determined image—could turn into something completely different. Into something that would finally strip her of the last remnants of her dignity.

— Baththards! — she hissed quietly but with fury. — Thith are my eyeth!

She didn’t finish. A new stream of saliva trickled down her chin. Ginny quickly wiped it away with a trembling hand. She understood perfectly: each new change brought her closer to that terrible, broken state her mother was in now.

Jack turned to the audience with a wide, satisfied smile:

— Voting is open, dear viewers! Decide what kind of eyes our determined, but already drool-lipped and short-legged Ginny Weasley will look at the world with...