Three outfits

The pimp pulled out three outfits from the cabinet, holding them up for Harry to see. The first was a sheer, practically see-through number that left nothing to the imagination, designed to showcase every inch of Harry's new curves.

The second was a Quidditch-themed ensemble, complete with a tight-fitting sports bra and miniskirt that screamed "slutty" in a playful, yet undeniable way.

The third was a classic escort dress, form-fitting and made of a fabric that clung to the body like a second skin, with a neckline that plunged down to Harry's navel and a hemline that barely grazed the tops of his thighs.

Harry's eyes widened as he took in the options, his heart racing with a mix of excitement and dread. He knew that wearing any of these would make him feel like the whore the pimp believed him to be.

The man let out a slow whistle, his eyes lingering on Harry's bare pussy. "Now, now, don't be shy," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're going to be showing this off to all sorts of clients soon enough. Might as well start getting used to it." He tossed the sheer outfit onto Harry's lap. "This one's my favorite. It's sure to get the goblins' attention."

The thought of being ogled by the male patrons of the brothel, especially the goblins with their twisted tastes, sent a wave of horror through Harry. But his body had other ideas, his clit pulsing in anticipation of the fabric brushing against it. Harry knew he had to play along, at least for now, if he had any hope of finding a way out of this nightmare. With trembling hands, he began to put on the outfit, his mind racing for a way to escape this fate. He stops thinking about the other outfits.

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