Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Hermione was no stranger to doing things she didn't want to do just to get by. Her parents had been sentenced to prison for malpractice and left her with an outrageous amount of debt, which meant that more often than not she was penniless. This, combined with the stress of three jobs, is what led her here.
Tom's Milk Production Company printed in rather small lettering on a medical building's directory. It didn't really give any clues as to what they did, but there had been a wanted ad in the classifieds for a young woman in her late teens with large breasts. The ad said it paid well, so she had showed up to the address in the best clothes she had-a burgundy pencil skirt, black heels and a white blouse; all of which her mother had left in her closet.
Again, she was reminded how grateful she was that the house had been paid off for quite some time and that the taxes had been prepaid for seven more years before she'd have to worry about it.
She opened the door labeled 'Tom Riddle, M.D.' and was greeted by a rather kind looking middle-aged man. He had her fill out paperwork with basic info and directed her to a seat once she handed the papers back to him.
"Hermione? Dr. Riddle will see you now." A young nurse led her to an empty patient's room before leaving her there. It wasn't very long before a knock on the door interrupted her staring competition with the wall.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Riddle. What brings you in today?" Hermione shook his hand and told him she was merely responding to the ad. "Ah yes, I had almost forgotten about that. Did you do any research on what I do here? No? Well, let me explain. I hire young women like yourself to become…milk donors, of sorts. We hormonally trick your body into producing breast milk for mothers who cannot or do not want to produce their own. I'm low on milk supply, so I'm hiring. The position can either be on a temporary basis or a permanent one as more of a career." Hermione made a face.
"That sounds an awful lot like the women who sell themselves into slavery without knowing it." Tom chuckled, sending a wave of arousal through her.
"Ah yes, while I do provide a variety of self-imposed 'slaves' as you called them, those contracts are only temporary-for the most part. What you must remember is that these women, at least the ones I deal with, are all doing it of their own free will. They are selling themselves, I'm merely a facilitator of the transaction. I cannot speak for others in my position."
"So why go through the trouble of being a doctor?"
"Simple; donors need enhancements. I pocket fifty percent of the selling fee to pay off any and all enhancements made on the person."
"I'm not so sure I want to do this…" Dr. Riddle looked her up and down before sighing. She felt guilty, like she had let him down somehow.
"Well, there's always the temporary trial. But if you're sure…"
"Wait, what's that?" Dr. Riddle's face brightened up and she felt a surge of happiness.
"Ah, that's where I put only enough hormones in you to stimulate breast milk production, run you through one milking and after that you get to decide if you wish to continue. I rescind all offers after a five hour period from the first drop of milk that spills, though."
"Why's that?" She knew that was a bit suspect of a condition, but thought that there might be a reason behind it.
"Simple really. I only give enough hormones to start the milking process, not enough to make it sustainable for more than a few hours. After that, your body will need at least two full menstrual cycles in order to be receptive to the treatment again. You can always come back after that if you decide you'd like to try again." A small part of her wanted to decline, to tell him no, but her body was screaming at her that she at least wanted to try.
"What does the trial pay?"
"Oh the trial isn't paid; mainly because the first milk is too riddled with the first influx of hormones to be of any use. I don't charge for it, though." She couldn't help but nod in agreement.
"I'd like to do the trial."
She was so nervous that she wasn't entirely sure she had even read all the paperwork she had signed. There were pages on pages about what exactly they'd be pumping her full of but for the life of her she couldn't focus enough to read through the entire thing and had signed her name before moving on to the time agreement. Five hours from the first drop is all she had to decide if she wanted to continue.
It was all fairly straightforward from there.
Dr. Riddle took her to another room and had her strip-a welcome change since she was getting uncomfortably warm-and did a thorough breast exam. He squeezed and prodded for much longer than her regular doctor did, but he also had a vested interest in whether or not her breasts would be able to sustain such a rigorous change. She found her back arching away from the exam table as he pinched and squeezed her nipples, to better judge if they were ideal for frequent milkings.
"Don't mind the pinching, I must ensure your nipples are up to the task of being stimulated frequently and for long periods of time." She felt tingles as his voice washed over her.
He eventually trailed his hands down her flat stomach, over her hips and towards her inner thighs before he pulled her legs apart and quickly lifted her feet to sit in the stirrups that had seemingly appeared from nowhere. She could feel herself being opened by the speculum, felt his fingertips moving around in her, and almost immediately was intensely aroused.
"Not to worry, that happens more often than you'd think." He continued peering into her most intimate of places, continued moving his fingers around, and eventually they pressed into a rather pleasurable spot. She moaned before she could stop it, but before she even had time to be embarrassed, the table lifted her into a sitting position.
She must have looked a right mess with the speculum letting her juices flow freely onto the floor, her feet spread in the air, and sweat starting to form on her naked body. The doctor only chuckled, making her drip more, before he pressed a button on the wall. Straps came around each of her upper arms, forearms, thighs and her stomach. She didn't quite have it in herself to panic, something she thought was quite odd. Things were seeming a bit more muddled than they normally would, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
He turned from her and grabbed a face mask that oxygen was typically given through and strapped it over her head. A fresh burst of arousal swept through her, and she dimly realized that whatever he'd laced the mask with was what was making her so horny.
Her hips bucked involuntarily. The restriction of her position and the straps only made her arousal spike more.
"Struggle all you want, dear Hermione. You're going to be begging me for all sorts of things in a few minutes." He inserted an IV into her arm with quick precision. She briefly wondered what was in the bag he connected to her arm, but she didn't have to wonder for long.
Within minutes she was more aroused than she ever had been before and once the mental fog from her paperwork signing lifted, Dr. Riddle told her all she needed to know.
"You're inhaling an aphrodisiac-a very powerful one, I might add. It'll make you want more and more until you'll do anything to achieve another orgasm-anything, including selling yourself into being someone's sex toy." She grew wetter at the idea of only existing for someone else's pleasure.
"The IV is pumping your body full of hormones. You'll go through a lot of changes, first and foremost will be your breasts. While they're plump and responsive, they need to be larger and so sensitive that even the lightest of silk shirts will arouse you. Look down, they're even larger now than ten minutes ago." She obeyed without questioning it and was surprised to see that her breasts had, in fact, grown at least half a cup size. Now since she was thinking about it, they felt uncomfortably full and heavy. Her nipples felt like they were being pinched, but from the inside. She couldn't help the moan that escaped her.
"That's right, succumb to the feelings. Soon you'll be begging for me to sell you off to some rich man who will have a fair few of his friends steal their pleasure from your body." She whimpered and tried to remember that this was just a trial. It wasn't real.
As if he could read her mind, Dr. Riddle chuckled and leaned down until his mouth was at her ear. "No one has ever resisted the aphrodisiac for more than an hour before signing their lives away. You're going to have no thoughts of your own by the time I'm done with you and you're going to beg for it every single step of the way. You'll be a walking sex doll with no thought going further than pleasing every single person you come across. You'll crave sex, and you'll love every single second of it." Her eyes widened in horror as she realized she did crave it, even now. She wanted to get on her knees and do whatever it takes to orgasm. She could feel it building with every slip of liquid dripping to the floor.
Dr. Riddle turned and grabbed the speculum before removing it from her. She practically screamed in frustration as her muscles sought to contract around something, anything. The doctor only laughed before leaving her alone.
She wasn't sure how long she was left there, but it couldn't have been too long before a recording started playing over the loudspeaker. It was quiet, the words nearly indistinguishable, but in the end she managed to make them out.
I'm a slave to my desires. I must preform sexual acts to survive. Anal sex excites me. I want to be bred. I need to please my master. Nothing is better than sex and obeying. Submission is who I am. I'm a slave to my desires…
On and on the recording went until Hermione was a drooling mess. She eventually heard people coming and was relieved when the doctor came back in again. He barely touched her, something she found very frustrating, as he changed the IV bag. He checked her breasts again, noting how swollen they were before turning up the aphrodisiac in the mask she wore.
"You'll like this IV, it allows you to produce what I call slick. It's a substance that will leak from your anus when aroused to make anal sex incredibly easy for your master." She practically screamed from the sexual frustration she was in.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like to come?"
"Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes…"
"What will you do to feel that kind of release?"
"I'll sign the bloody paperwork, just please let me come!" He brought a clipboard over and even as her mind screamed not to, she took up the pen and signed her life away. Tom chuckled.
"You belong to me now. You won't get to come until your new owner says you can." She sobbed even as the slick he'd described started dripping onto the floor.
