Dudley's Domination 17 (Patreon)

Harry woke to the soft light filtering through the curtains of his room at the Burrow, his head pounding slightly from a restless night. The events downstairs had replayed in his dreams, the blurry figure of the brunette woman with Dudley, the "lessons" in confidence that had left him flushed and confused. Some of the dreams were particularly uncomfortable, with the woman wearing a dangerously familiar face … not reality, of course, but even the idea alone was scary enough.

Luckily, he could trust Hermione with his life, let alone … well, it wasn’t like Dudley had any female appreciation. If he did, he wouldn’t have resorted calling escorts.

He reached for his glasses on the nightstand, slipping them on, and the world sharpened into focus. Then he frowned, how did he missed them yesterday.

He shrugged. Not that important.

A glance at the clock showed it was just past eight; breakfast smells wafted up from below. Bacon, eggs, fresh bread. His stomach rumbled, but a knot of unease twisted in his gut. Last night's awkwardness with Dudley lingered, and the harem arrangement felt heavier than ever. How was he supposed to lead when he could barely watch a demonstration without bolting?

He dressed quickly in jeans and a worn T-shirt, running a hand through his messy hair. Descending the stairs, the chatter of voices grew louder—feminine laughter, the clink of plates. Harry paused at the kitchen doorway, heart skipping a beat. All five of his girls were there, Fleur back from whatever overnight errands she had to ran. Ginny, Hermione, Luna, Susan, and Fleur moved about the kitchen like a well-oiled team, setting the table, flipping pancakes, pouring tea. But something was off—drastically off.

They were dressed... revealingly. Extremely so. Harry's face heated instantly, a blush creeping up his neck as he took in the sight. None of them wore bras—that much was obvious from the way their tops clung and shifted with every movement. Ginny, his fiery redhead, wore a spaghetti-strap tank top that was practically see-through, the thin white fabric doing nothing to hide the outline of her perky breasts or the faint shadow of her nipples.

Paired with tiny denim shorts that rode high on her thighs, she looked like she'd stepped out of one of those Muggle magazines Dudley used to hide under his bed. She bent over to grab a plate from the lower cabinet, and Harry averted his eyes, swallowing hard.

Hermione, usually the picture of practicality, had on a sundress that plunged low at the neckline, the light cotton material loose enough to gap when she leaned forward, offering glimpses of her firm, uncovered chest. No papers or books in sight this morning; instead, she stirred the eggs with a sway in her hips, the dress's hem flirting dangerously high on her legs. Harry blinked. Hermione? Like this? She caught his eye and smiled innocently, but there was a spark there, something teasing.

Luna drifted about in a flowy, low-cut shirt that tied loosely at the front, the fabric so sheer it was almost translucent, her small, perky breasts bouncing freely with each dreamy step. Her mismatched skirt was short and asymmetrical, one side hiked up to mid-thigh, the other fluttering longer. She hummed a tune about Nargles, twirling a spoon, oblivious—or perhaps not—to how the movement made her top shift, exposing more skin.

Susan, with her voluptuous figure, wore a loose crop top that barely contained her huge, shapely breasts, the hem riding up to show underboob every time she raised her arms. No bra meant they swayed hypnotically as she set out the fruit bowl, defying gravity in that magical way Harry had always admired but now found overwhelming in the kitchen light. Her ordinary skirt from dinner had been swapped for yoga shorts—thin, clinging, leaving little to the imagination.

And Fleur…

Merlin, Fleur. The Veela's allure was amplified in a silky camisole that clung to her perfect curves, the neckline dipping to her navel, her full breasts straining against the fabric without support. Paired with lace-trimmed shorts that hugged her endless legs, she looked like a vision from a fantasy, her silver hair cascading down her back. She poured coffee with a graceful bend, and Harry felt his blush deepen to scarlet.

The kitchen felt suddenly too small, too hot. Harry stood frozen in the doorway, his mouth dry. This wasn't normal, not for breakfast.

The girls moved with casual confidence, chatting about the day ahead as if nothing was amiss. Ginny flipped a pancake, her tank top slipping off one shoulder. Hermione laughed at something Luna said, her sundress gaping slightly. Susan reached for the sugar, her crop top riding higher. Fleur stirred her tea, the camisole shifting enticingly. Luna twirled, her blouse fluttering open just a bit too much.

Harry's heart raced. He loved them—all of them—but this? In the kitchen? It felt like a coordinated tease, a push he wasn't ready for. His shyness surged, memories of last night's "lesson" flashing—Dudley's confidence, the woman's moans. Was this what they wanted? More assertiveness from him? He cleared his throat, stepping in. But, his gaze stayed at the ground.

"Uh... morning, everyone."

They turned as one, smiles blooming. "Harry!" Ginny beamed. It made him stiffen, blush intensifying.

Hermione set down the spatula, her dress swaying. "Slept well?" Her eyes held that knowing glint, as if referencing something he couldn't place.

Harry's mind flashed to downstairs—the brunette, Dudley. "N-no, nothing." He pulled back, eyes darting everywhere but their chests. Fleur handed him a coffee, leaning in close enough that her camisole dipped dangerously. "Bonjour, 'Arry. You look... flustered."

Susan chuckled, her crop top shifting. "Sit down, love. Breakfast is ready."

Harry slid into a chair, trying not to stare as they joined him around the table. Plates were passed, but every movement amplified the issue—breasts bouncing, fabrics clinging, skin flashing. Ginny leaned across to grab the jam, her tank top gaping. Hermione buttered toast, her sundress slipping. Luna reached for milk, her blouse tying loosening. Susan served eggs, underboob peeking. Fleur sipped tea, her camisole taut.

His fork trembled. This had to stop—they were in the open, anyone could walk in. Dudley was still in the house, for Merlin's sake. "Uh... girls?" Harry ventured, voice cracking slightly. "Your... outfits. They're a bit... revealing, don't you think?"

Ginny arched an eyebrow, popping a berry into her mouth. "Revealing? It's just breakfast, Harry. Hot day ahead."

Hermione nodded, crossing her arms—which only pushed her breasts up further. "We're comfortable. Isn't that what matters?"

Luna tilted her head. "The fabrics feel nice against the skin. Like wearing clouds."

Susan smiled slyly. "Yeah, Harry. Loosen up."

Fleur winked. "You do not like? We thought you would appreciate ze view."

Harry's face burned. He did appreciate, too much. But it felt wrong, exposed. He tried to summon confidence, remembering Dudley's words: Take charge. "I... I mean, maybe put on something more? A bra, at least? What if someone sees?"

The words came out weaker than intended, more plea than command. Ginny laughed, not mockingly but playfully. "Someone like who? Dudley's still asleep. And we're your girls, Harry. Relax."

"We're just being ourselves. You don't mind, do you?"

Harry opened his mouth to push—to insist, to lead like Dudley had demonstrated. But the words stuck. His shyness won, the hero who defeated Voldemort faltering before five revealing outfits. "I... it's fine. Just... unexpected."

They exchanged glances—amused, knowing—and continued eating, the conversation shifting to plans. Harry poked at his food, stealing glances despite himself, blush permanent. The harem was his, but moments like this made him question if he was truly in control. Down the hall, he heard Dudley's door creak, his cousin emerging.

Harry's unease grew; what if Dudley saw this?

But he said nothing, confidence eluding him as breakfast dragged on, the girls' revealing attire a silent challenge he couldn't meet.He poked at his scrambled eggs, the fork scraping the plate louder than necessary in the suddenly charged kitchen. The blush on his cheeks felt permanent, a hot flush that refused to fade as he stole glances at the five women around the table.

The creak of footsteps on the stairs snapped him from his thoughts. Harry glanced up, dread pooling in his stomach. Dudley. His cousin lumbered down, still in rumpled shorts and tank top, his bulky frame filling the doorway as he yawned dramatically. Dudley's eyes widened as he took in the scene, a slow grin spreading across his face like he'd just won the lottery. The girls turned, smiles brightening—too brightly? No, it was his paranoia—as Dudley stepped in. "Morning, all. Smells good in here."

Harry's blush deepened, mortification surging. Dudley seeing them like this? "D-Dudley," he stammered, "we're just... breakfast."

Dudley chuckled, rubbing his hands together as he surveyed the table, and the women. His gaze lingered, unapologetic. Ginny's tank top had slipped again, and she didn't fix it. Hermione crossed her legs, the sundress riding higher. Luna twirled a lock of hair, her blouse gaping slightly. Susan poured him tea, her crop top shifting to show more skin. Fleur leaned back, her camisole dipping lower. No one seemed fazed; if anything, they preened under his attention.

"Looks like a feast," Dudley said, his voice laced with double meaning. He pulled out a chair across Harry, plopping down with a thud that made the table rattle. "You lot always eat like this? Casual Friday or something?" His eyes flicked to Ginny's exposed shoulder, then to Hermione's plunging neckline. Harry wanted to sink into the floor.

Ginny laughed, flipping her red hair. "Something like that. Help yourself, Dudley." She passed him the bacon, leaning forward enough that her tank top gaped, breasts nearly spilling into view. Dudley took the plate, his grin widening. "Thanks, Gin. Looking... fresh this morning."

Harry choked on his tea. "Dudley, maybe... uh, the girls are just comfortable. No need to stare."

Dudley raised an eyebrow, forking eggs onto his plate. "Stare? Just appreciating the view, cousin. You've got a good setup here." He nodded at Fleur, who smiled seductively, her camisole taut as she breathed. "Morning, Fleur. That top suits you—really brings out your... assets."

Fleur giggled, a Veela trill that made Harry's skin tingle. "Merci, Dudley. You are too kind." She adjusted her posture, the fabric shifting to reveal more cleavage. Harry averted his eyes, but Dudley didn't, openly admiring.

Hermione cleared her throat, but her voice was light. "Pass the toast, Harry?" As he did, her sundress slipped off one shoulder, exposing the swell of her breast. She fixed it slowly, her eyes meeting Dudley's with a spark Harry couldn't read. "Sleep well, Dudley?"

"Like a baby," Dudley replied, his foot bumping Harry's under the table. "Had a late night, though. Entertaining company." He winked at the table, and the girls exchanged glances, Ginny biting her lip, Susan flushing, Luna smiling dreamily.

Harry frowned, last night's blurry scene flashing back. The brunette whore... but no, that was separate.

Luna tilted her head at Dudley. "I heard noises too. Floaty energies downstairs." Her blouse tie loosened further as she gestured, nearly coming undone. Dudley chuckled. "Yeah, floaty alright. You should've joined, Luna."

Harry's fork clattered. "Joined? Dudley, that's not—"

"Relax, Harry," Susan interjected, her crop top riding higher as she laughed. Her breasts jiggled freely, drawing Dudley's gaze. And Harry's, despite himself. "He's just teasing." But her flush deepened, and she didn't pull the top up to fix it.

Dudley speared a sausage, popping it into his mouth. "Teasing? Nah, just saying. With a harem like this, you must have all sorts of fun mornings." His eyes roamed freely over Ginny's perky outline, Hermione's gaping dress, Luna's sheer blouse, Susan's underboob, Fleur's plunging camisole.

The girls didn't cover up; if anything, they seemed to enjoy the attention, shifting in ways that accentuated their revealing attire. No, they were being kind. They have to be.

Harry tried again, voice firmer but still cracking. "Girls, really, maybe... add a layer? Dudley's here, and it's... distracting." The words felt inadequate, his lack of confidence glaring. Ginny rolled her eyes playfully. "Distracting? Good distracting, I hope." She stretched, her tank top straining.

Hermione nodded. "We're fine, Harry. Dudley's family now, right?" Her eyes were on Dudley.

Luna hummed. "The Nargles like the freedom. Bras are cages for the spirit."

Susan leaned in to serve Dudley more eggs, her crop top slipping to expose a nipple briefly. She "fixed" it slowly. "Oops. See? Comfort over convention."

Fleur traced her neckline. "In France, zis is normal. You English are so... repressed." She winked at Dudley, who grinned back.

Harry's hands clenched under the table. He wanted to insist—to tell them to cover up, to kick Dudley out for ogling. But the words stuck. Dudley clapped him on the back. "Lighten up, cousin. They're your girls. enjoy it. Think of the lessons. Hell, if I had this..." He trailed off, but the implication hung.

“What lessons?” Hermione said. “Are you teaching something. Maybe I should join—“

“No!” Harry gasped, which made Dudley chuckle.

“Not exactly fitting for you, Hermione. It requires … professional touch.”

Harry blushed.

Breakfast continued, the conversation flowing around Harry like he was invisible. Dudley bantered with the girls, compliments laced with innuendo. "Ginny, those shorts are killer. Bet they're comfy for flying." Ginny laughed, crossing her legs.

"Hermione, that dress screams smart and sexy. Harry's lucky." Hermione blushed but smiled.

"Luna, your style's unique, love the blouse." Luna twirled, the tie loosening more. "Susan, that top... wow, defies gravity." Susan giggled, bouncing slightly. "Fleur, you're a vision, that camisole's criminal." Fleur preened.

Harry ate in silence, pushing food around his plate. His attempts to redirect fell flat. The girls' revealing clothes seemed tailored to tease, and Dudley's presence amplified it. Was this a test? Were they pushing him to take charge? But he couldn't, shyness rooted him, confidence elusive.

Then, Dudley turned his attention to Ginny more deliberately. "Had some... interesting dreams. About flying, actually. You on a broom, fast, wild. Bet you're a pro at handling the stick." The innuendo hung heavy, his eyes dropping to her chest before flicking back up.

Harry choked on his toast beside him. "Dudley!"

Ginny laughed, a throaty sound that sent a thrill through Dudley. She straightened, but not before giving a little shimmy that made her top shift. "Oh, I'm good with sticks. Quidditch keeps me sharp." Her eyes sparkled, playing along.

Dudley poured syrup slowly, watching it drizzle. "Yeah? Maybe you could give me a lesson sometime. I'm a quick learner, hands-on type." He winked, reaching across the table for the bacon, his arm "accidentally" brushing hers.

Hermione cleared her throat, her sundress slipping off one shoulder again. She fixed it, but slowly, her gaze flicking between Dudley and Ginny. "Quidditch lessons? That could be fun. Dudley could fly with assistance, but we need to go somewhere magical." But her tone was tight, a hint of jealousy? Harry filed it away. He was being unnecessarily paranoid.

Luna tilted her head, her blouse gaping as she buttered a scone. "Brooms are full of Wrackspurts. But riding them does clear the mind." She smiled dreamily at Dudley, her small breasts visible through the sheer fabric. "You have strong hands for gripping."

Susan chuckled, her crop top riding higher as she stretched. "Luna's right. Strong hands are key." Her voluptuous breasts swayed, underboob teasing.

Fleur leaned back, her camisole taut, nipples pressing against the silk. "In France, we 'ave different games. But I think Dudley would excel." She traced a finger along her neckline, drawing eyes, including Harry's, who blushed deeper.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, fork clinking. "Uh, maybe change the subject? To... weather?" His voice was weak, eyes on his plate. Dudley clapped him on the back, nearly knocking his glasses askew. "Weather's hot, cousin. Explains the outfits—smart choice, ladies. Keeping cool." His gaze lingered on Ginny's tank top, where a bead of sweat trickled down her cleavage.

Ginny bit her lip, crossing her legs under the table, her foot now tracing up his calf. "Yeah, hot. Makes everything... stickier." She emphasized the word, her eyes locking on Dudley's. The flirtation was blatant now, the air thick with tension.

Dudley leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping low. "Sticky can be fun. Like syrup, sweet, messy. Bet you'd taste amazing with a drizzle." He nodded at the bottle, but his meaning was clear. Ginny's cheeks flushed, matching her hair, but she held his gaze, a sly smile creeping on.

"Ginny!" Harry exclaimed, his voice cracking. He glanced around the table, but the others seemed amused, Hermione sipping tea with a knowing look, Luna humming, Susan smirking, Fleur watching with interest. "That's... inappropriate."

Dudley laughed, spearing a pancake. "Inappropriate? Just talking breakfast, Harry. Relax."

Ginny played it cool, buttering her toast. "Dudley’s right/ Just some clean fun."

Harry tried again, his confidence faltering. "Girls, really, the clothes... and now this? Dudley's my cousin, but—"

Hermione cut in gently. "Harry, it's just banter. Dudley's harmless." Her sundress gaped as she leaned over, and Dudley looked.

Fleur smiled at Ginny. "Oui, flirtation spices life. Ginny, you 'andle it well."

Ginny grinned at Dudley. "I can handle a lot. Maybe a private session, even."

Harry's eyes narrowed, sensing something off but too shy to call it. "Private session? Ginny's busy with practice."

Ginny hummed softly, in a way that left Harry confused and aroused. Something was wrong with him. "I could... make time," she said breathlessly.

The table dynamic shifted. the girls watching with varying degrees of amusement. Harry noted that Ginny gripped the table edge, knuckles white. Despite being outwardly alright, she must be hating Dudley’s attention, Harry reasoned. "Yeah? Sounds thrilling." He turned to Harry. "You wouldn't mind, cousin? Family bonding."

Harry stammered. "I... well, if Ginny wants..." His lack of pushback was telling, shyness winning again.

Ginny whimpered softly, though she covered with a laugh. She must be hating it. "Definitely thrilling." Dudley withdrew his hand under the table, sucking his finger. Harry frowned at the unnecessary gesture, but said nothing.

Breakfast wound down, but the flirtation lingered. Dudley stood first. "Great start to the day. Thanks, Gin, for the syrup." He winked, leaving her flushed. “Susan, be ready for yoga in half an hour.”

Harry watched him go, unease growing, but said nothing. The girls cleared plates, their revealing outfits still on display, the morning charged with unspoken tension.