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“Wait a second,” he gasped, back arching up to her touched. “Too much.” She lifted her body and stared him down, her eyes black, predatory coals. “Never enough,” she purred. “I need—“ “You let me worry about that.” She backed up on hands and knees until his soft dick was front and center again. Her hands went up, tweaked his nipples, before traveling back down, fingers tracing figure eights over the lightly scarred skin. She rained sloppy wet kisses on his inner thighs, and then blew cold air. Ant thing bad. I wanted to smash it. Nummy birdy took it. I’m hungry.”Two other two legged creatures, these with the proper amount of arms and legs, joined the first two. He could all but smell the fear coming off the one with dark red hair, though she didn’t act afraid. The other one smelled like… something he couldn’t identify. She looked tasty, but didn’t smell it. It didn’t even smell alive.“I know, love, but it’s gone now,” the many armed one spoke. “Will you change back now?”“No,” he told. At first there was no sign that the curse had achieved anything, but as the evening wore on there was general agreement that his speech was a bit odd. Finally, in exasperation, Hermione had spoken up."He's speaking in iambic pentameter," she explained. "You know - like in one of Shakespeare's plays." George had disqualified her on the spot, explaining that the curse was in fact extremely useful - Shakespeare had routinely subjected himself to it before sitting down to write.After the contest. .
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