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Hagrid settled deeper into his oversized recliner, the ancient wood creaking under his massive bulk. The fire in the hut’s hearth crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the cluttered walls lined with crossbows, dragon eggshells, and oddities collected over decades as Hogwarts groundskeeper. A half-empty tankard of mead sat nearby, but his attention was fixed on the thick, leather-bound photo album resting on his lap. His enormous fingers turned the pages with surprising gentleness, each enchanted photograph looping lewdly.
In the background, the hut was filled with wet, filthy sounds — loud gurgles, choked gasps, and needy whimpers. Some seventh-year witch was on her knees doing her best to swallow as much of his massive half-giant cock as she could, saliva already dripping everywhere.
“Tha’s it, lass… easy now,” Hagrid rumbled affectionately, not bothering to look at the witch sucking his cock.
He turned the first page.
The photo showed Cho Chang from just last spring, her lithe Ravenclaw body bent over a hay bale in the stables, robes torn open and bunched around her waist. Her beautiful face was a picture of cock-drunk bliss—eyes rolled back, mouth slack, drool and cum streaking her chin and perky tits. The looping image captured Hagrid’s colossal cock sinking deep into her tight pussy, stretching her obscenely. The size difference was breathtaking; Cho looked like a delicate doll compared to his enormous frame.
“Cho was a proper eager one,” Hagrid murmured, voice thick with pleasure as the wet sucking sounds continued between his legs. “Came knockin’ at midnight after a big victory party. Said it was on a dare, but the way she blushed and kept starin’ at me crotch told a different story. Had her on her back in ten minutes, legs wrapped ’round me as best she could. Poor thing squealed so loud the thestrals got spooked.”
He flipped through more images: Cho lifted effortlessly onto his cock, her small hands pressing against his hairy belly as her belly bulged visibly with every slow, deep thrust. Another showed her on her knees in the hut, face painted white, eyes watering with happy tears. The final shots were his favorites—Cho sprawled across his bed, legs splayed, pussy gaping wide and leaking thick rivers of his cum down her thighs. She had a dreamy, thoroughly fucked smile, one of his massive handprints faintly visible on her slim waist.
Cho had looked so bloody small next to him. His hand nearly wrapped all the way around her waist when he lifted her, and she still took him like a champ. When he’d fucked her standing up, holding her like she weighed nothing, she’d cum so hard she passed out for a minute, only to wake begging for more. Hagrid had carried her back toward the castle himself, wrapped in his enormous coat, her legs still trembling.
“Always a good start to the year, Cho,” he said warmly, turning the page.
The sucking between his thighs grew louder and sloppier. Hagrid finally glanced down. Hermione Granger—bushy hair a wild mess, eyes watering, lips stretched obscenely around his impossible girth—looked up at him with pure lust. She hollowed her cheeks and took him deeper, determined as ever.
Hagrid barely registered Hermione’s efforts beyond the pleasant heat as he turned the next page. “Katie Bell,” he rumbled fondly. “Bold little Gryffindor chaser.”
The enchanted photos showed Katie from the previous year, her athletic body dwarfed by Hagrid’s as she was bent over his sturdy workbench. Her Gryffindor robes were pushed up, ass raised high. His colossal cock was buried deep in her tight arse, her flat belly bulging dramatically with the clear outline of his thickness. Katie looked proper tiny bent over like that, her athletic little body getting absolutely overwhelmed by him.
“She came on a dare after a big win against Slytherin,” Hagrid reminisced. “The girls told her no one could handle the groundskeeper’s cock, especially not up the back. Katie, bein’ fiery as they come, took the bet. Showed up flushed, trousers already half-down, tryin’ to act brave.”
In the looping images, he had taken his time at first—easing into her, one massive hand on her narrow waist—then fucked her harder as she adjusted. Katie had squealed, then moaned, then begged for more, her small body jolting with every thrust. He’d lifted her clean off the ground at one point, bouncing her on his cock like a living toy while she came explosively, juices dripping down his thighs.
The aftermath shots were glorious: Katie sprawled limp, arse gaping and leaking thick cum, belly still slightly swollen, a satisfied, dazed grin on her face. She’d won the dare and then some, whispering she’d never felt anything like it.
Hagrid’s cock twitched hard in Hermione’s throat at the memories. She gagged wetly but kept sucking devotedly, completely lost in her task. He gave her bushy head a distracted pat and continued flipping pages, perfectly content.
“Ah, Fleur Delacour,” Hagrid said with a wicked grin, turning the next section. “Thought she was summat special, bein’ part Veela an’ all.”
The photos showed Fleur Delacour during the Triwizard Tournament — starting off all elegant and full of Veela swagger, ending up a proper mess in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. On her knees, silver-blonde hair gripped in his fist, throat bulging obscenely as he face-fucked her in the open air. Exhibitionism had made her soaked—anyone could have stumbled upon them near the lake.
“She came ter me the night before the second task, flirtin’ with that Veela charm, wantin’ ‘extra luck.’ I told her straight: ‘Yeh think yer fancy magic’ll help with a half-giant, girl?’ Stripped her proper and had her chokin’ on me cock in minutes. Called her a stuck-up little Veela slut while I stretched her throat and then her pussy. Belly bulgin’ with every thrust, legs shakin’.”
He described how he’d taken her roughly against a fallen log, verbally humiliating her the whole time. Fleur had screamed in French, cumming harder than she ever had. The next day she could barely walk, still leaking his cum during the task—resulting in a spectacular failure.
The aftermath images showed her perfect body marked with massive handprints, holes gaping, cum streaking her thighs and face. She’d come back twice more during the tournament, addicted despite the shame.
Hagrid’s hips twitched, feeding Hermione more of his cock. She moaned around him but he kept reminiscing, lost in the memories.
“Penelope Clearwater,” Hagrid chuckled. “Proper little prefect, she was.”
The photos showed a drunk Penelope straddling his lap, curly hair messy, ranting about her boyfriend Percy Weasley. “Said he was all rules an’ no fire, too busy bein’ Head Boy to fuck her proper. Showed up here complainin’ how his skinny little cock did nothin’ for her.”
She had ridden him eagerly, her small body bouncing as her belly bulged with every descent. “Percy could never stretch me like this!” she moaned, the cuckold comparisons flowing freely while Hagrid pounded her senseless on the table and then on his bed. The size difference was striking — her slender frame looking tiny as she tried to take all of him.
The aftermath shots showed her leaking heavily from both holes, smug and thoroughly satisfied, her robes in complete disarray. “Wonder if Percy ever figured out why his perfect girlfriend sometimes walked funny after her nightly patrols,” Hagrid laughed warmly.
Hagrid turned the next page with a broad, fond grin. “Nymphadora Tonks,” he rumbled warmly. “Now there’s me favourite. Wild little Metamorphmagus.”
The photos of Tonks always made him grin. She’d show up already shifting — making herself curvier or taller when she felt like it — but she still looked small compared to him. She was bent over his kitchen table, ass up, as he slammed into her from behind with zero restraint. Her belly bulged violently with every brutal thrust, the clear outline of his colossal cock reshaping her insides.
“She didn’t need none o’ that slow an’ gentle nonsense,” Hagrid reminisced, voice thick with arousal. “Showed up at my hut full o’ Firewhisky an’ mischief, pink hair turnin’ bright blue with excitement. ‘Hagrid,’ she said, ‘I can be whatever yeh need tonight.’ No timid virgin hesitation with Tonks. Her shapeshiftin’ let me go wild right from the start.”
He flipped the page. The next series captured the raw, rough fucking he loved. Tonks had shifted her body to take him better—making her pussy deeper, her walls tighter or looser as she pleased—but even then the size difference was obscene. Hagrid had used her like a living fleshlight, massive hands locked around her waist as he lifted and dropped her entire body onto his cock. Her legs flailed, tits bouncing wildly, mouth open in ecstatic screams that echoed through the forest.
“Rough as yeh like,” he continued with a deep chuckle. “I fucked her so hard the table broke. She just laughed, changed her hair to green, made her arse even fatter for me, and begged for more. No careful stretchin’ needed—she’d adjust on the fly, then take every brutal inch like it was nothin’.”
In one particularly intense photo, Tonks was impaled completely, her smaller (even shifted) frame folded in half against Hagrid’s hairy chest while he stood and pounded upward. Her eyes were rolled back, tongue lolling, belly distended grotesquely. She’d cum violently multiple times, squirting down his thighs, before her body finally gave out. She went limp in his arms, passed out cold with a blissful smile, his cock still buried deep.
“Fucked her unconscious,” Hagrid said proudly, turning another page. “Most girls would’ve been done. Not Tonks. I just laid her on the bed and kept goin’. Used her slack body like a perfect warm fleshlight for another hour. She’d twitch an’ moan in her sleep every time I hit that spot, her pussy clenchin’ even unconscious. Kept shiftin’ a bit in her dreams—hair flashin’ every colour, tits swellin’ bigger then smaller. Bloody magical, she was.”
The aftermath photos were some of Hagrid’s favourites. Tonks sprawled across his bed, thoroughly ruined, holes gaping and leaking thick rivers of his cum. Even unconscious she looked satisfied, body marked with massive handprints and light bruises from the intense pounding. One shot showed him still fucking her slowly while she slept, her belly still bulging softly. Another captured the moment she woke up, immediately shifting again and demanding round two.
“Best part?” Hagrid murmured, his cock throbbing hard in Hermione’s eager throat. “She came back more times than anyone. Said no one else could give her the real rough ride she craved. Shapeshiftin’ made her perfect for me—no holdin’ back, no worryin’ about breakin’ the poor lass. Just pure, wild fuckin’.”
Hermione made a desperate, gagging moan around his girth, but Hagrid barely registered it beyond a lazy roll of his hips. Tonks had been special — one of the few who could truly keep up with him.
Hagrid stroked the final photo tenderly—Tonks curled against him, tiny once more in her natural form, looking well-fucked and happy—before slowly turning the page.
A particularly loud, desperate moan vibrated around his cock. Hermione suddenly pulled off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her swollen lips to his glistening cockhead.
“Hagrid…” she rasped, voice wrecked from the long sucking, “I need more.”
She climbed into his lap, straddling his massive thighs. Her small, curvy body looked tiny perched atop him as she pressed her dripping pussy against his fat cockhead and slowly sank down. Inch by thick inch disappeared inside her, her belly visibly distending with the obscene stretch. Hagrid steadied her waist with one huge hand and let her ride while he continued turning pages.
“Blimey, jumped a few years,” he muttered, not minding in the slightest. “Lily Evans.”
The enchanted photos showed the fiery redhead in a secluded clearing near the Forbidden Forest. Her Hogwarts robes were hiked up, knickers long discarded in the grass. Hagrid’s massive hand gripped her long red hair like reins, yanking her head back as he fucked her roughly from behind against a sturdy oak tree. Her lithe body was completely dwarfed by his enormous frame—slender legs trembling, small hands braced against the bark as each powerful thrust jolted her forward. Gods, she looked tiny against him out there, her slim legs shaking while he held onto her waist with one hand like she was nothing.
“She came ter me one evenin’ after a big Quidditch win, all flushed an’ sayin’ she needed to blow off steam,” Hagrid reminisced, voice thick with pleasure as Hermione rode him. “Didn’t take much convincin’. I gave it to her rough outdoors where anyone might’ve walked by.”
He flipped the page. More images: Lily on all fours in the dirt, back arched deeply as he pounded her pussy. In one image the outline of his cock moving inside her once taut stomach was clearly visible. Then on her knees in the grass, looking thoroughly wrecked—glasses askew, freckled face painted with thick ropes of his cum, red hair a wild tangled mess from the constant hair-pulling. She smiled dazedly up at him, tongue out to catch the last drops.
“Pulled that pretty red hair like reins the whole time,” Hagrid continued. “She loved it rough. Came screamin’ loud enough ter scare the centaurs away. Gave her a proper facial right there under the moonlight, covered those freckles and her tits. Had ter carry her halfway back ter the castle—her legs wouldn’t work after.”
The size difference made every photo filthy. His handprints marked her pale skin, and she looked tiny curled against his broad chest in the final shots, cum still streaking her body, a satisfied little smile on her face.
“Best not tell Harry ’bout these ones, eh?” Hagrid quipped with a deep laugh, giving Hermione a firm upward thrust that made her cry out. “Reckon the boy wouldn’t wanna know his mum once took a proper half-giant poundin’ in the forest.”
“Narcissa Black,” Hagrid rumbled next. “Prim and proper pure-blood princess.”
The photos captured her arrival: tall, elegant, blonde hair immaculate, black robes with silver trim perfectly pressed, chin held high. She had knocked on his door claiming mere curiosity about the “rumors.” But Hagrid had stripped away that haughty facade quickly.
In the next looping images, Narcissa was bent over his sturdy table, elegant robes ripped open and hanging in tatters around her waist. Her slender, pale body was dwarfed by his massive frame as he took her hard from behind. His colossal cock stretched her pussy obscenely, her flat belly bulging dramatically with every thrust. One of his dinner-plate-sized hands pinned her wrists behind her back while the other gripped her narrow waist.
“She acted all superior at first,” Hagrid said with amusement. “But once I got inside her, she melted. I fucked her pussy, then her tight aristocratic arse until she was beggin’ like a common whore.”
The aftermath shots were his favorite: Narcissa trying to leave at dawn, her once-pristine robes in complete tatters, barely covering her heaving breasts. Thick rivers of his cum leaked from her well-fucked pussy and gaping ass, running down her trembling thighs. More streaked her elegant face and platinum hair. She walked with a pronounced bow-legged waddle, a dazed, thoroughly satisfied expression replacing her usual icy sneer. The proud Slytherin heiress had been reduced to a cum-soaked, bow-legged mess.
“Wonder how young Draco would feel if he knew his proper pure-blood mum was such a size queen for half-giant cock,” Hagrid added with a low, rumbling laugh. “How she came back more than once, cravin’ what no proper pure-blood wizard could give her. Left here leakin’ and smilin’, despite all that blood purity talk.”
Hermione moaned loudly and rode him faster, her own belly bulging as she listened.
“Bellatrix Black,” Hagrid said, voice growing darker and almost wistful. “Now that one… she was somethin’ else.”
The photos showed a young, wild Bellatrix pinned beneath him on the bed, pale curvaceous body completely overwhelmed by his size. Her dark hair fanned wildly as he drove into her with brutal force, one huge hand pinning her wrists, the other around her throat. The size difference was extreme—her body looked tiny and helpless under his bulk.
“She showed up actin’ all superior, talkin’ about power and darkness. But the second I got my cock in her she changed. Begged me to be rougher. ‘Harder, you filthy giant! Break me!’ she screamed.”
He had obliged, fucking her for hours—slapping her ass, yanking her hair, pounding her until the bed cracked. Her eyes rolled back, screams turning into incoherent babbling and manic laughter as orgasm after orgasm shattered her. Her sharp mind had broken under the relentless pleasure and overwhelming size.
“Reckon I might’ve had a hand in why she’s proper mad these days,” Hagrid admitted. “She kept beggin’ me to destroy her, so I did. Fucked her stupid until she was droolin’, twitchin’, and laughin’ like a lunatic. Came back three more times, each wilder than the last.”
The final images showed her sprawled limp, body covered in sweat and cum, holes gaping, a broken but blissful smile on her face.
Hagrid closed the heavy album with a decisive thud and set it aside. He looked down at Hermione, still riding him with desperate, sloppy movements. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, her brilliant mind clearly melted from the relentless pleasure and overwhelming size.
“Why am I tellin’ yeh all this, lass?” he rumbled. “Yer mind’s already gone, ain’t it? Just like all the others.”
With that, he took full control. He lifted her effortlessly, flipped her onto her back on the wide recliner, and drove into her with powerful, relentless thrusts. Her small body jolted, belly distending dramatically with every deep stroke. Hagrid fucked her hard—raw half-giant strength—folding her nearly in half until she was a quivering, cock-drunk mess.
He came with a deep groan, flooding her completely. Hermione shuddered in ecstasy beneath him.
Hagrid pulled her limp, satisfied body close against his broad chest, stroking her bushy hair with surprising gentleness. Another perfect year. The joys of being Hogwarts groundskeeper never got old.