If I could, I would buy every person reading this FFF a big bowl of steaming hot chili. No noodles; just meat and beans and sauce, maybe some onions. Oh, with plenty of hot sauce, so you feel it in your gut. Why? Because I'm still in a bad mood, and that makes me hurt the ones I love, you guys. But you knew that, because it's a
Harry Potter-themed FFF, and no good can ever come of that. Right? Right.
Their first time? Harry still shuddered at the memory - and not just
because it was the most dangerous thing they had ever done, but because
it still got him an instant hard-on after all those years. They could
have been discovered and Harry didn't even want to think about what the
world would have had to say about what they had been getting on. In the
halls of Hogwarts, scant twenty minutes before classes ended? And so
close to Slytherin territory and the Potions lab? They had exceptional
luck that day.
Discover the secrets of that fateful day and why Harry's definition of "luck" is totally fucked on the next page.
It started as a 'normal' potions mishap - if it counted as normal for someone to have put a Puking Pastille into Malfoy's Spell Reversal Potion just
before he was about to test it. Yes, Harry still called him 'Malfoy' in
class and everywhere else where they weren't the only two people
present. Because Malfoy was so different from the one he had known as
'Draco'; even his looks were harder along the eyes and more closed up.
Although this lovey-dovey shit between Harry and "his Draco" is pretty disgusting, it will be topped. Shortly.
Anyhow, the 'accident' happened - the Pastille got into the potion. It
was a draft used to relieve nasty curses that didn't have a counter
curse, but the Pastille together with the reversal potion acted as a
very strong and potent purgative.
Not one minute later than Malfoy had drunk the potion, there was a noise
as if the earth itself was rumbling, and it came from Malfoy's stomach.
Harry looked at him with surprise, and saw his look turn panicked. He
clutched to his stomach and sprinted out of the classroom with a barely
legible apology towards Snape. As Malfoy was always the one who had
finished his brewing long before class end - even Hermione needed all
the time she could get to obtain her level - everyone else was still
occupied with stirring their cauldron and chopping ingredients in a mad
rush.
...
Harry had found Malfoy, all right. He had been able to make it
approximately a hundred meters into the direction of the loo, but then
he had stopped and just stood there, leaning heavily against the wall,
his forehead glinting with beads of perspiration and his face as pale as
a ghost's. Harry hadn't thought it possible for Draco to get any paler
than he already had been. There was a horrible, embarrassing, gurgling
and rumbling noise coming from him. It looked like he needed all his
concentration to will his muscles to keep in what wasn't supposed to
come out, except in the right place - the bathroom.
Harry approached Malfoy - now Draco - and put a hand on his bony
shoulder. His whole body was shaking, while the aggressive bowel noises
continued to permeate the silence of the empty hallway. He gave a meek
whimper, something that sounded like "Harry," and then, "help!"
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of His Bowels
Harry scowled. He wanted to help, all right, but how should he move
Draco if he wasn't able to uncross his legs in order to take a step
forward without his guts spilling out? There were not only the sounds,
but the indistinguishable smell, too. Harry guessed that Draco wouldn't
be able to hold it much longer - with or without trying to walk. He
wanted to lift him and fling him across his shoulder in order to carry
him, if there was no other way, but as soon as he touched his boyfriend,
the blond emitted a frightened noise and shied away from his touch, as
if it had burned him. His muscles - even those on his face and neck -
started to contract with the effort he was making to withhold the
contents of his bowels, and he slowly started to slide down the wall. He
would have ended in a ball of pain and misery, had Harry not grabbed
his arm against his protests and held him in a standing position. There
were already tears spilling over Draco's eyes and starting to travel
down his cheeks.
Harry sighed and grabbed his boyfriend's other shoulder, too. There was
nothing either of them could do. "Draco, just let it go," he told the
quivering Slytherin.
Really? There's no "Summon Toilet" spell in the Harry Potter world? Not even a "Don't Shit on the Floor" spell?
Draco looked up at him with eyes as round as dinner plates, but it
seemed that either he was beyond his limits or his body reacted at the
calmly uttered command, because suddenly there was an even louder rumble
coming from him and tremors raked his body while a wet squishing noise
and a smell so strong that Harry had to cast a bubble-head charm on
himself and Draco, proved that Draco, or his body, had indeed let go.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Smell
It seemed as if, once started, Draco wasn't able to stop, and in the
company of more muscle cramping, keening and more of the wet, thickly
splashing noises, Draco continued to empty his bowels for a good minute.
He was now outright crying, pressing his wet face, red with the
exertion and even more with shame now, into Harry's chest while Harry
continued to hold him upright.
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Fecal Matter
The faeces flowed down under Draco's robes, most likely staining the
inside, too. It slid down his quivering legs staining his shoes and
creating a half-solid half-fluid puddle in the floor around them. Harry
couldn't imagine how that all could have come out of just one person!
And here comes the tragic part where you
wish the story was just about Draco shitting himself and would stop there. BUT IT NEVER DOES.
He had no idea what it was exactly that did it. It might have been the
sight of Draco being this defenceless, this vulnerable, or that he was
trusting him and sharing with him this - without doubt - most shameful
moment of his life. And, yes, the fact that his boyfriend just dirtied
his underwear (Draco didn't like to wear trousers under his robes; he
thought it was a horrible Muggle-ish habit) and shat on the floor of an
open hallway. He didn't even notice that he had become hard until Draco
had accidentally touched him while he was trying to seek comfort from
him, or trying to find a convenient dark corner in Harry's robes to hide
in.
When I'm feeling down or sad, I too like to grab men's cocks. I also like to burrow my face into their crotches to hide because, like an ostrich, I assume if I can't see you, you can't see me.
Harry hissed loudly and as a half-conscious move he pulled Draco closer,
partly still with the intent of comforting him and stilling the
trembling of his body. Draco tried to arrange himself in a more
comfortable position inside his arms, his shoes made squelching noises
when he lifted them and put his feet down outside the brownish puddle.
Harry couldn't help but take a look downwards to the mess Draco had
created, wondering at the soiled shoe marks that lead from it to their
current position. Something just clicked inside his brain, and in the
next moment he was kissing a first bewildered, but a short time later
just as willing, Draco. At first, Harry thought that his boyfriend went
along with it instead of protesting that they clear the shite off and
Harry take him into a bathroom or his dormitory to clean himself,
because he needed to be comforted and told that it was alright, that
nothing that happened was his fault. But then he pressed his groin to
Harry's and there was an answering hardness under his robes.
Of course there was. Can't you smell the romance in the air?
Harry pulled away, taken aback, and Draco started to blush again,
turning his gaze away in shame. Harry swiftly lifted his boyfriend's
chin and pressed a quick peck onto his trembling lips before he got the
idea that Harry thought any differently about him than with
understanding and... lust - yes, it was definitely lust.
Harry captured the blond's lips again in a harsh kiss, to which his
partner submitted willingly. Somewhere in the middle of it, Harry's
hands started to act as if on their own, and when he noticed it, they
were already pulling up Draco's robe and slipping behind the heavily
soaked-through material. The thin excrement covering the back of the
Slytherin's trembling thighs was slippery and still body-warm. Harry
couldn't help but run his fingers up and down the wet smoothness
massaging it lightly into the other boy's just-as-smooth skin. Then he
slid his hands higher and reached the softly rounded globes of Draco's
bottom.
Why, Harry was certain they looked like two massive scoops of mashed potatoes, covered in gravy.
Harry had been right. Draco was only wearing a now soiled g-string,
though because of its nature it got much less dirty than y-fronts or
boxer shorts would have, had Draco been wearing either of those. Harry
suddenly realised that it was the red one he had given Draco two days
earlier, saying that he wanted to see his boyfriend wearing that,
because to his own knowledge, Draco didn't possess any other g-string.
Draco jumped a bit when Harry parted his cheeks. Harry could feel the
muscles tightening there under his fingers. He transferred his mouth to
the side of his boyfriend's neck while one of his fingers gently pulled
the soaked string out of his crack and pushed it to the side. He then
circled the puckered ring of muscles, still wet and hot and much more
sensitive to his touch than normal. It was still opening and tightening
rhythmically, as if the contractions hadn't stopped yet. Harry quickly
pressed one of his index fingers into the passage. The insides of the
silky-tight channel were still sloppy with diarrhoea.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED
In that moment Draco grabbed to the front of Harry's robes and gave out
another keening noise, while his stomach started to rumble anew - though
these were far from as violent as the first surges. Harry gasped when
something indescribable jolted directly into his loins and pushed the
index finger of his other hand in next to the one already penetrating
Draco. Then with a swift move he pulled them apart, opening up the
puckered entrance as far as its muscles allowed without causing Draco
excessive pain. As it were, even that was enough, and in the next
moment, Draco's muscles were cramping again, his sphincter contracting
around Harry's fingers, which allowed him to widen the hole as the
liquid faeces started to first leak, then a few seconds later gush out
of it and past Harry's unrelenting fingers. Harry didn't know whether
Draco was just trying to hold onto him while his body was trembling with
the cramps, or if he was intentionally frotting against him through
their robes, but in the middle of the most violent gushes he felt a
different kind of stiffening and then quivering from his boyfriend, as a
warm wetness started to spread between their pressed together hips.
Draco had just come!
The realisation gave Harry another jolt, and the only thing that stopped
him from coming himself, was the desire of being inside of that tight,
twitching, gurgling channel that still pulsed with the final few gushes
of the last bout of diarrhoea.
This is going to get even rougher, so you might consider skipping the next page altogether.
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