Erotic Stories from the House of "C"
Ron's Honeymoon
Ron Weasley checked his teeth in the mirror. The whitening formula the wizard at the hygiene shop had sold him was clearly bunk, as his teeth appeared no different than they did every other day of his life, other than the big chunk of lettuce stuck squarely to his front teeth. How long had that been there? Ron pictured all the photos he would be shown over the coming years of his own leaf-tainted grin beaming stupidly at his own wedding. "Gah!" he said aloud, and feverishly clawed at his mouth.
"What's wrong, honey?" his wife asked sweetly from the other room.
"Nothing!" Ron said hastily. Too hastily.
"Okay!" she said, and then added her sexiest voice, "I'm waiting."
"Just a minute!" Ron said, cursing himself for his own fear. But Linda was a good girl. She would wait patiently for as long as Ron could stall for time, even in this dump of a Muggle hotel room. He scraped out some unsightly eye boogers he had apparently missed that morning and quickly turned his attentions to his duffel bag. He produced his wand, the jar of live West African Fire Lizards, and the vial of black viscous slime he would mix with them, his spell book, and looked at his reflection with a determined air. After all that had gone wrong today, he felt all the pressure in the world against what he was about to do.
The wedding had been held in the ugliest cathedral money could buy, and his mother had never stopped fussing over his collar or his hair or his posture or the creases in his grotesque, maroon tuxedo. It was on this precise day that Ron realised that he might've altered any of the ill-fitting clothes he had ever worn in his life with a simple magic spell. Armed with this epiphany, it was even more painful to wear the ruffly disaster his mother had picked out for him two weeks prior.
Of course his brothers Fred and George gave him a hard time about his appearance, as well as some painfully choice words concerning his partner Linda, who had gained approximately fifteen pounds since their engagement four months ago. His oldest brother Whats-His-Fuck was the only voice of actual encouragement, but only after drinking surprising amounts of alcohol. Percy hadn't bothered to show up, but that was no big deal. He had been turning slowly evil for many years now. With Ron's luck the whole event would've turned into a ridiculous Wizard's Duel, no doubt prominently involving his best friend Harry.
Speaking of Harry, he was nowhere to be found until halfway through Ron and Linda's vows when he slammed the doors open and screamed "Wait!" He then produced his wand and grandly proclaimed Ron to be a rogue Death-eater in disguise. It made no sense, of course, but then Harry made this kind of entrance all the time. After a friendly hug, the vows were allowed to continue and Ron and Linda were legally married.
During the ensuing party, and only after Ron could tear Harry away from Hermione's constant chattering, crying, over-emotional chastisement for his entrance (and also her own barely contained but desperate loneliness), Ron asked Harry what couldn't be said in front of anyone else.
"Harry," he said. "I've got to ask you something very personal. It's very important."
Harry's face became grave. "Anything, Ron. What is it?"
"Well," Ron whispered. "It has to do with what's going to happen tonight."
Harry did not understand even in the slightest what Ron meant. "What do you mean, Ron?"
"I mean," Ron began as beads of sweat appeared noticeably on his forehead, "I mean it's not exactly the easiest thing to talk about, Harry. It...it..."
"Ron, we're friends aren't we?"
"Yeah. Yeah we are Harry."
"Then just say it. What's on your mind?"
"You're right, Harry. I should just say it. I should just ask you."
"What is it Ron?"
"Oh Harry! You know what I'm getting at don't you?"
"No Ron. Please just tell me."
"Harry, it has to do with tonight. Tonight!"
This train of conversation continued for about five more minutes, after which time Ron had developed a pair of rather large sweat stains under his arms. When he couldn't beat around the bush any longer and when too many people began wondering what he was up to he finally stammered out the awful words on the tip of his tongue. With a face wrenched with unspeakable agony, he looked Harry in the eyes and said in as quiet a voice as he was capable of, "My wiener. It's my wiener, Harry."
"What about your wiener?" Hermione said loud and incredulously. Ron hadn't even noticed her show up. She was like a sneaky, horrible serpent.
"Agh! Jesus Muggling Fuck, Hermione!" he whispered. This caused her face to become more livid than he'd ever seen her before, faster than seemed possible. Even Harry was taken aback by such imaginative language. Ron wrapped his arms around their shoulders and led them outside before anyone could take note of the blinding bright-red fury of their faces. He could hear his brothers laughing riotously as he did this. They would spread this sordid little tale like an infection.
"Dammit, Hermione!" Ron said when they were safely outside the cathedral. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Wrong with me?" Hermione shouted. "You're the one with the dirty sailor mouth and some sick wiener problem."
"SHHH!" Ron commanded. "For the love of God, woman!"
"Woman!?" Hermione shrieked.
"Okay, okay," Harry interjected. "Let's all just calm down and be friendly again. Hermione, do try to keep your voice down."
"Do you hear how he is talking to me Harry!"
"You started it!" Ron yelled.
This continued for five or ten more minutes until Ron apologized to Hermione and (at her insistence) Harry, and when Hermione admitted that she had been drinking. No sooner had these feats been accomplished did Harry bring up the topic of Ron's wiener right in front of Hermione again.
"So what's wrong with your wiener?" Harry asked.
"Crap, Harry! Not in front of Hermione. She's a girl!"
"It's all right, Ron," she said, her demeanor suddenly much more sober and interested. "Anything you can tell Harry you can tell me."
"That's right," said Harry. "We're all friends."
"We just want you to be happy, Ron."
"You wouldn't understand," Ron said. He turned away from them and looked off into the distance. He really wished Hermione wasn't there. She always showed up when it was the most socially awkward, and he still had a small crush on her which made the whole thing more excruciating. Feeling the way he did now, he began to regret his entire wedding. And Linda must've been wondering where he had gotten to by now.
"Come on, Ron. Hermione's better at everything than you or me, remember? She has valuable insights about all sorts of things, including penises." Ron tried not to imagine Hermione as having ever had anything to do with penises.
"That's right Ron," she said, dashing this notion to the ground. "Just tell us what happened!"
"It hasn't happened yet," he said glumly.
"Is it," Harry began, and then whispered, "your wiener?"
"Yes!" Ron admitted finally. "I have a tiny, ugly little wiener, okay?" His eyes welled up with tears of unmistakeable shame. Hermione burst into a fit of laughter.
"Hermione!" Harry scolded.
"I...I'm...I'm sorry!" she stammered out in between guffaws. She couldn't even help it, which made Ron feel all the worse. But shortly her uncontrollable laughter became an uncontrollable giggle, and then slowly, became a simple sigh. She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse and lit one.
"Hermione!" Harry said. "You smoke?" Ron was surprised as well but was far too ashamed to do anything except not cry.
"They're Wizard's cigarettes, Harry," she said dismissively. "I'm old enough now, I can smoke them if I want to." She sucked a quarter inch of tobacco off the thing and blew the smoke at a squirrel in a nearby tree.
"What about lung cancer?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Nya nya nya nya nya nya!" was her witty retort. "I'm serious Harry, you can just take your preachy self-righteous good boy routine and cram it! This is Ron's special day."
Ron broke his shoe-gazing to look at his friends who had a habit of getting way off-topic lately. For a person who was fairly used to being embarrassed, this reunion was the most unbearable of circumstances and it was dragging on far too long. He wondered to himself if this was how weddings generally went for most people. They looked awkwardly in opposing directions for a minute.
It was Hermione who broke the silence again. "Well Ron," she said in a businesslike tone. "I'm sure you've been in a bookstore or two, even if only to purchase required reading material and never out of curiosity, but you've undoubtedly seen the Adults Only section before."
"Never!" Ron lied. "I've never seen the pornographies!"
"I'm not talking about pornographies, Stupid. There are such things as spellbooks you know, and believe it or not there is quite a market for sexy spells. I'm sure they'd have something for your...uh...little problem."
Ron was flabbergasted. It was so obvious! And yet he'd waited until this very day with the utmost anxiety over so simple a problem. It was just like his "ugly clothes dilemma." Every unpleasant incident on earth could be solved with the proper wizarding tools! That was why he spent so many years in school turning owls into hatboxes! If only he had spared himself the humiliation of disclosing the truth of his inadequate phallus in public.
"Hermione's right," Harry said sullenly. Then his head turned to meet Hermione in the eyes. "But there's one thing she isn't telling you."
"Oh," what's that?" she said defensively.
"That a lot of those kinds of spells require understanding the Dark Arts, Hermione!"
She smoldered the butt of her cigarette into the ground. "Yeah, well, obviously. You have to ask to see the Adult section of a Dark Arts shop. D'uh."
"Hermione, what's happening to you?!" Harry exclaimed. "I can't believe you would say these things!"
"What's wrong with you, Harry! You're still the same little boy you've always been. Grow up!"
And while Harry and Hermione began a shouting match that wouldn't be dying down for some time, Ron snuck back into the cathedral. He had a plan now. On the way to the Muggle hotel on the other side of town (his Dad had found it cheap for them) he would hit the ol' Diagon Alley and quickly sneak into the Dark Wizards' shop and purchase such a spell book and whatever ingredients were necessary for a Good Penis spell under the guise of finding a bottle of champagne and then secretly cast the spell on himself in the washroom after they had checked into the hotel. Foolproof!
The wedding was uneventful from then on, excepting his brothers' insistent taunts and insults, and once the cake was cut, the gifts received, the relatives satiated, the guests thanked, a forced smile set permanently to his face, and the car warmed, he set his plan in motion. He sensed Linda's suspicions when he stopped the car outside Daigon Alley and asked her to wait in the car while he ran in with his duffel bag only to emerge nearly half an hour later without the champagne he said he was getting and had to run back and get some, but Linda was a good girl. She wouldn't say anything. And Ron's behaviour was awkward and erratic so much of the time that she could hardly be surprised.
Now, Ron stood nervously before the washroom mirror. He checked the spell again. It specifically indicated to say the words loud, and undaunted. Some spells you could get away with mumbling a bit, but a devious Magick like this required the utmost confidence. He would have to send Linda out to get something, but what? Then, the idea hit him. He slammed his right arm into the towel rack as hard as he could and involuntarily yelped he had done it so successfully. The towel rack came off its hinges and fell noisily to the ground.
"Oh my God!" Linda cried. "Ron are you okay? Ron!"
"Yes," Ron said. "I'm alright. I just, uh, stumbled a bit."
"Let me see, Ron! It sounded just terrible!"
"No!" he yelled. "Just go get me some ice from the machine down the hall. That'll help the swelling."
"Oh Ron!" she cried. "I can fix it with my wand, Ron. Is it a bruise or a lesion?"
"No, no!" he yelled through the door. "We caan't! We're in Muggle territory! What would the Ministry think? My...My Dad works in the Ministry! We could be fined hundreds of dollars! They might take our wands away or something!
"Oh, but it sounded so painful! Where do you hurt?"
It doesn't hurt!" he said through tears, clutching his arm. "Just get me some ice! Please! Ice! It'll help with the swelling!"
"Oh no, oh no!" he heard her sob as she ran out of the room and into the hall. She would be bawling all the way to the ice machine. He waited until he heard the door close and then enacted his plan.
He had just a matter of seconds until Linda came back, a full minute tops. He poured the black liquid into the jar of lizards and shook them all around in it. This caused the lizards to ignite, which altered the slimy substance and colored it a bright purple. Ron poured the purple goo back into the vial, careful not to spill any angry lizards, and took a deep breath. He tore his pants down around his ankles and stuck his wiener into the liquid. With all the manly courage he could muster he pointed his wand at his member and declared the magic words.
"Imperius Penerius Rex!"
And at the simultaneous moment that Linda returned with a bucket of ice, Ron let out a terrifying yelp as his penis grew so fast in all directions that it burst the vial into pieces with a pop.
Linda heard this and became ever more concerned. "Oh my God!" she yelled. "What are you doing in there?"
"Nothing!" Ron yelled back, as his eyes watched with fear as his dick surpassed the seven inches he had anticipated and continued to grow far beyond the boundaries of human sexual congress.
"I'm coming in, Ron!" Linda said from outside. "I have some ice. What did you hurt?"
As she opened the door she caught a glimpse of Ron's petrified eyes before letting out a scream at the sight of Ron's enormous, dinosaur-sized green penis framed by a flowing mane of silky purple pubic hair. She stared at him with her mouth agape, and horror in her eyes, and at last she said, "Why? Why didn't you tell me? Oh God Why?"
For a moment Ron just stood with his mouth open. But just then he knew the perfect thing to say. "I just smacked it against the towel rack is all. It's just a bit swollen." Linda eyed him doubtfully. "Don't worry it'll go down in size in about...oh, five hours or so."
And so she applied ice to his giant green wiener for a stretch of time, until it was so unbearably cold that Ron couldn't go on with the charade any longer and insisted that they play card games for a while. Sure enough, by three in the morning, his dong was as small as it ever was, and Linda experienced the exact opposite sensation of seeing too large a cock.
"Well, at least it should fit now," she said.
"Sorry," Ron said sheepishly. I should have let you see my wiener before we got married."
"Oh, it's okay. We can always try one of those penis enlarging spells," Linda said with a wink, "and not use so many African Fire Lizards next time."
Ron smiled. He knew he had married the right girl. He kissed her on the cheek, and apologized for scaring her with a false, magical dong. They both laughed together about the depth of Ron's marital anxiety. Then they had awkward and unfulfilling sex.
THE END
