Harry Potter: Red Weasley The Strange Red Wizard

In the end, I spent the night in the infirmary—against my will. My original plan was much simpler: go to the [fief] hospital or use my own powers to fix the little problem. But no, the professors decided to drag me in as if I were a criminal, and there I was, a prisoner to an impossible erection.

The treatment, of course, wasn't immediate. Apparently, my situation wasn't an emergency compared to Potter, who was in an even more pitiful state. I considered sneaking out and leaving a clone in my place, taking advantage of the fact that my clones can't get erections. That way, it'd look like I'd miraculously healed. But I failed, and naturally, Professor McGonagall wasn't about to let me move a finger unsupervised after that.

Though I did use my clones anyway—just to bring some diluted Swooping Evil venom. I offered the professors to use my own stash instead of Snape's as a sort of apology for causing this disaster. Not that I cared much about the situation, but at least I scored some points with the professors.

The infirmary was unusually crowded that night, probably because my party had left a trail of casualties among the attendees. From my bed, I could see Potter being tended to behind some curtains. Although I couldn't see him directly, the sounds were… explicit. Poor guy. When Snape appeared with a potion, the tension in the room skyrocketed. The other students, who had no clue what was really going on, assumed the worst when Snape left without saying a word and all sounds had ceased. I don't blame them—it looked like he'd just executed Potter.

Finally, it was my turn. If you thought this couldn't get any more awkward, let me prove you wrong: not only did I have an erection that had lasted hours, but now I had an audience. McGonagall was still there but decided to call in Sprout for backup, probably because my failed attempt to swap myself with an invisible clone didn't help calm her distrust. Luckily, I managed to convince them not to call Snape or Flitwick. If someone had to witness my penis-related problems, I'd rather it be women.

There I was: two older women by my side, one with her hand on my shoulder as if I were about to flee at any moment. I don't think they did it out of revenge; it seemed more like genuine concern mixed with an absolute lack of faith in my judgment. Admittedly, bringing Swooping Evil venom as casually as herbal tea didn't help my reputation.

Finally, Madam Pomfrey arrived to tend to me. I didn't expect my reason for being there to be so… obvious. First, she gaped at me; then, she did it again when McGonagall and Sprout explained why I was there.

"Please, lower your pants," she ordered with the professionalism only someone who has seen it all could maintain.

I did, with absolute embarrassment. When my penis appeared in all its glory, swollen and nearly purple, I wasn't the only one alarmed. Pomfrey leaned in, wand in hand, and began examining it closely. When she reached out to move it for a better look, something unexpected happened.

At the first touch, it was too much stimulation. Before I could process it, I started coming with a force of nature.

What followed was straight out of a porn scene… or a horror movie. Shot after shot of semen erupted, and I'm not talking moderate amounts. It was like someone had hooked me up to a pressure hose. The three older women were caught in the line of fire, completely unprepared for the tsunami of milk that assaulted them.

Several seconds—many seconds—passed before I finally stopped. I let out a sigh of relief, looking at my still-erect but much healthier-looking penis. Sure, that was progress… but the consequences around me were undeniable.

The three women stood frozen, wide-eyed, and literally painted white. The shock had left some with their mouths open, which, given the situation, didn't help at all. Even the girl in the bed next to me, who hadn't escaped entirely, had the same look of bewilderment, though her dose was much smaller.

"I swear…" I began, trying to sound serious while drowning in shame, "I usually last longer. This has never happened before."

For some reason, my attempts at humor didn't land. The three women, who had just received an involuntary bukkake, wasted no time casting cleaning spells on themselves and the area. However, the magical cleaning wasn't enough. The smell lingered in the air, and the taste in their mouths—though likely psychological—kept them uneasy.

To avoid further humiliation, they conjured a curtain to block the view and a silencing spell. Of course, that would've been useful before the entire room witnessed my show.

"Aren't you too young to be messing with that stuff?!" Madam Pomfrey exploded, visibly annoyed but surprisingly calm compared to the others. "If you abuse this at your age, you'll lose your penis in a few years. You shouldn't even have access to these kinds of potions," she added with a look of disappointment rather than anger.

"What is it, Poppy?" McGonagall asked, clearly struggling to ignore the fact that a student had gone this far in front of her.

"Mr. Weasley consumed a potent aphrodisiac. A very potent one," Pomfrey explained, sighing as if this were just another day at work. "I've seen cases like this, but I've never seen a student this… adventurous. As soon as I came into contact with his semen, my nipples got hard."

McGonagall and Sprout exchanged uncomfortable glances, their eyes filled with mutual understanding. They both sighed in relief, as if a dark cloud had suddenly lifted. For a moment, due to their strange bodily reactions, they'd feared the situation had… aroused them, which would have led them to seriously question whether they should start keeping their distance from students. But no, it was simply the drugs. That sudden relief, however, was followed by accusatory glares directed straight at me.

"Well, Mr. Weasley? Do you have anything to say in your defense?" McGonagall asked with a mix of indignation and resignation.

"Hey, don't look at me like that. I swear I have no idea what you're talking about," I said, raising my hands defensively.

"What did you take, and how much?" Madam Pomfrey demanded, crossing her arms sternly. Her piercing gaze seemed to dig into my soul.

I could only return a confused look. "Take what? Seriously, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mr. Weasley…" McGonagall intervened with a tone that could make anyone tremble. "I suggest you start talking now before this gets worse."

"Professor, I swear. I didn't take anything. I just woke up in this situation."

McGonagall frowned, clearly trying to decide whether I was lying or if I was genuinely that stupid. "I don't want to jump to conclusions… but I'd rather not believe that you and Miss Granger—or any other student—are engaging in this sort of behavior… or consuming these kinds of potions at school," she said, nearly stumbling over her words.

"From the bottom of my heart, professor, I assure you that's not the case," I replied, though even I was starting to have doubts. I knew I hadn't taken anything, but… then what the hell had happened?

"We were all young once, dear, but something like this..." Professor Sprout chimed in, finally breaking her silence. She placed a hand on my shoulder with a disturbing amount of compassion. "If you need to talk, you can trust us."

I watched as Sprout and McGonagall seemed to settle into a good cop, bad cop routine. Under different circumstances, it might have been amusing, but I had more pressing matters to attend to.

"Let me be blunt, boy," Pomfrey continued with a grave, almost ominous tone. "A potion like that, taken at your age—or any age—could cause permanent damage to your genitals. And frankly, I don't think a moment of fun is worth risking your future happiness."

Her words left me pale. Sure, I was confident that my powers, or some resource back at my [fief], could fix anything, but the idea of losing little Red was enough to terrify anyone.

"What did you take and with whom? Because the girls can be affected too, though not as severely as men. However, if they're exposed for too long, there could be consequences. Even if they don't ingest anything directly, your semen—enhanced by that potion—could still have side effects on your partner, though without the same dangers you face. That said..." Pomfrey paused, looking at me with a mix of surprise and concern. "It's odd. With something as strong as what you've allegedly consumed, you should be dizzy, disoriented… or completely overtaken by lust. But you don't seem to be showing any of those effects."

...

...

-In the Room of Requirement-

Adorable moans.

"G-Gin…ny… N-No…! …gentler…," a breathless voice stammered.

"I-I can't… stop…!" another voice responded, panting and desperate.

...

Back in the infirmary, I swallowed hard.

"Honestly, I have no idea what potion you're talking about. I haven't consumed anything! Never needed to," I said, puffing my chest out with pride.

The awkward silence that followed, combined with their severe stares, made me realize my mistake.

"Alright, fine. Yes, I've had sex," I confessed quickly, raising my hands as if that would calm the judgment descending on me. "But I'd appreciate it if you kept that a secret. I know it doesn't look good for someone my age."

"Let's save that discussion for another time," McGonagall finally declared with a resigned sigh, though her piercing gaze made it clear this matter was far from over. "For now, tell us what you consumed. That's the main concern."

"Nothing!" I insisted, almost desperate. "As I said, I've never needed that kind of stuff. Besides, I spent most of the night after the party talking to a ghost at a gathering full of ghosts. I don't think there's an aphrodisiac strong enough to make me… well… do it with something intangible," I said, horrified. The three women looked at me with a mix of disbelief and skepticism. "You can ask any of the ghosts, or just go directly to the Grey Lady," I added, crossing my arms to emphasize my point.

"Alright," Pomfrey said at last, rubbing her temples as if fighting off a headache. "The important thing now is resolving your condition. Without knowing the cause, we can't administer an antidote directly—it could backfire. I could study your case magically to determine the nature and properties of the aphrodisiac, but that would take too long, and in cases like this, it's better to act quickly, or the damage I mentioned earlier could become more severe."

"Whatever you say," I replied, though I already had a plan in mind. If no clear solution presented itself and they didn't let me leave soon, I was going to escape straight to the [hospital] in my [fief]. Consequences be damned—no one messes with my dick.

"Our options are: you try to… well, ejaculate continuously until the potion is purged from your system. At the very least, that should relieve your condition while I investigate to determine a course of action if you don't improve. If nothing works, we may have to resort to riskier methods," Pomfrey clarified, her professional tone hilariously mismatched with the content of her words.

I nodded reluctantly. The professors, after brief consideration, agreed this plan was the best course of action for now. They would arrange for me to have an absence permit in case things got worse, and thanks to my persuasion skills, I managed to avoid them sending a notice home… for now.

"We'll leave this in your hands, Poppy," McGonagall said, clearly eager to leave and reclaim her interrupted sleep. She turned to me and added, "Goodbye, Mr. Weasley. I expect more detailed explanations once you've recovered."

"Take care, Red," Sprout said, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

That was the mistake.

My body, in its hypersensitive state, and my balls, which felt like they'd recharged, reacted immediately to the contact. I felt a shiver, and before I knew it, another "eruption" was firing off, this time more controlled but still potent enough to hit all three of them again.

There was an awkward silence.

SLAP!

McGonagall's hand landed squarely on my face.

...

Now I'm in Madam Pomfrey's private room in the infirmary, with a slap mark on my cheek. My treatment consisted of continuous masturbation, releasing everything into a container that Pomfrey cleaned constantly… or used its contents to analyze my condition.

However, what happened next left me stunned.

Pomfrey, clearly affected by my earlier "discharges" and the lingering scent of the aphrodisiac, began acting strangely. Before I could react, I found her behind me, murmuring incomprehensible things while "helping" me relieve myself. Her hands moved deftly, and her mouth brushed against my neck. She was no longer using the container. Now, everything was shooting around the room, covering us both.

For some reason, she seemed utterly dazed and out of it. I, on the other hand, retained my clear mind, which I attributed to my natural resistance developed through my blood magic. Anyway, she kept "squeezing me dry" all night.

And well, Pomfrey wasn't the only one affected. Sprout and McGonagall didn't manage to sleep that night either. Both had to resort to "private solutions" in their rooms to deal with their own situations before deciding to return to the infirmary.

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2nd Additional Chapter

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