Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Crap! #2	By : blastendedskrewt Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 32233 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in Harry Potter's universe and make no money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Author’s Note and Warnings:

This story is based in the future from the same “universe” from ‘Crap!’ and ‘Crap#2!’, with Harry and Draco settling into their careers, relationship and living together.

Yes, this is more squick and certainly not for everyone. If you are squeamish or disgusted by scat, turn back now! Read at your own risk!

This story is merely an exploration of a kink that most people don’t dare delve into in fanfiction fantasy and meant to entertain with a thrill of horror and twisted fascination. Angry reviews and flames are welcome (I will find it amusing to no end that someone has disregarded the title, clear subject codes and warnings and still taken the time and energy to read and respond!). Of course, positive or simply incredulous “WTF?” reviews are greatly appreciated and will make me happy. Don’t be afraid to say what you really think—anonymous posts are great for that. Beyond that, I just wanted to push my own limits of what seems to have become (at least to me) commonplace, basic Potterverse porn…

You have been warned… Proceed only if you are brave of heart and strong of stomach!

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STUCK! (between getting rocks off and a some hard places)

This wasn’t how Draco pictured Harry’s homecoming. Not at all.

Every time his lover came home after a stake-out he was all over him the second he was in the door. In fact, Draco had to reluctantly pull away and insist Harry wash before he devoured him whole.

However, this time, the young Auror’s away-assignment had taken four nights and five days (instead of the usual one night and two days) and Draco was ready to take Harry the instant they were reunited, proper hygiene be damned. Maybe they would fall into the throes of passion so hard he wouldn’t care that the meal he’d spent a good part the afternoon cooking went ignored (until later).

But it was not going according to plan. Harry had wearily dropped his dusty duffle bag in the foyer, spared a him a brief hug and peck on the cheek and then trudged down the hallway to lock himself alone in the loo.

The blond frowned. He went back to checking on the preparations for dinner. After about half an hour of silence and the candles on the table had burnt almost all the way down, he grew suspicious. There wasn’t even the sound of the shower coming from the bathroom. His scowl turned to a fuming glower at the closed door.

What was he doing in there? His mind raced to the worst: Harry had been hurt and was attempting to heal himself so as not to let him know he’d been injured (well, he ‘humphed’, he was always going to worry!) and then it led him to further dark places, such as his boyfriend wasn’t interested in him anymore and perhaps the long nights had been filled with fucking his partner—while he’d been pining away in agonizing abstinence!!

“Bah!” Draco scoffed at that thought out loud. There was no way Harry would cheat on him with the Weasel! The mere idea of it was preposterous—Not only was that bumbling redhead hopelessly straight, the blond knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he and Harry had the most uniquely satisfying sex-life that spoiled them for any other. He tossed down the dish towel he’d been holding, cast a preservation charm on the food and approached the barrier Harry had barricaded himself behind.

“Love?” he knocked somewhat sternly. “Are you all right in there?”

A muffled groan met his ears and then he could have sworn he heard, “Go away.”

‘Go away? GO AWAY?!’ Oh, that was not on! Draco seethed, “I’m not leaving until I know what’s happening with you!”

That time he heard a distinct put-upon sigh. “Draco, just… I’m fine.” His lover sounded tired and resigned. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Well, dinner’s ready,” the unsettled blond snapped out of irritation and just a bit of trepidation; he did not like Harry being secretive and it filled him with unnamed worry. The water started for a shower then and Draco went to sulk at the kitchen table, his mind mulling over what could possibly be causing Harry to act this way.

He blew out the candles and just as he was stomping in, bringing his lover’s pack to their room, Harry stepped inside bundled in his pajamas and his bathrobe tightly belted (Draco inwardly winced at the all-too-clear signal that Harry did not want to be intimate—otherwise he’d have come in wearing only a smile and his prick pointing the way to the bed).

Scratching his neck sheepishly, the suspiciously acting brunet said, “Sorry… I’m just not feeling well. I’m completely knackered. I need to lie down.”

Draco was immediately by his side, concerned and feeling his forehead with the back of his hand. Harry never admitted weakness! If anything, he worked through any manner of physical ailments when he really should be resting and recuperating.

And to not want sex? Especially after having been apart for so long? Something was really the matter!

He led him to their four-poster and gently eased him onto the blankets, propping up his shoulders with pillows. “What’s wrong? Did you get hurt on your mission?” his eyes darting wildly, scanning his fully-clothed body for any harm. “Was it a tough one? Did you fall ill and try to do too much?”

“No. No, it was fine,” he reassured his panicking life-partner. “We got done what we needed to easy enough, I just…. Can we wait on dinner?” Harry wouldn’t meet his eyes and said softly, “I know you went to a lot of trouble to cook, but…” He rubbed at his belly and gave a small noise of disgust, “Eurgh, I just can’t think of food right now.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” the blond waved dismissively, “the supper’s under stasis, its fine. I’m just worried about you. What’s wrong?” he implored again, getting more agitated by the second. “What hurts?”

Harry still wouldn’t look at him. He even looked bashful. “It’s nothing, really. My stomach feels bad.”

“Poor thing,” Draco cooed, lightly running his fingers over his arms. “Maybe it’s just stress. You need to relax. Come on, flip over and I’ll give you a massage.” Harry mustered up a faint smile and shrugged out of his robe and pajama shirt. Settling on the bed chest down, he awaited his lover’s brilliant skill.

He grunted in discomfort as Draco straddled his waist at the small of his back, inadvertently putting too much pressure on his abdomen when the love of his life started drizzling oil and kneading his shoulders. Hoping that his boyfriend would take that little noise as pleasure, he followed it up with some moans of contentment. Really, the massage felt nice on his knotted muscles-- so it wasn’t a complete simulation-- but the uncomfortable sensation in his guts wasn’t being helped by having Draco’s weight partially pressing on them.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Draco eased up to stretch as his hands rubbed and squeezed their way down his arms that were splayed out by his sides; the man’s pecs and pebbled nipples brushed against his spine and he felt the tension of the past five days start to melt away.

“Sss-good, Dray...,” he mumbled. He felt Draco’s cheek smile against his shoulder blade, and then his magic fingers were moving back up his biceps. Harry hid a grimace as his lover’s ass once again redistributed his weight over his waist and squished his innards.

‘Pfffffft!’ Harry buried his reddened face in his pillow as he felt the gas uncontrollably escape his ass, quite audibly and practically on his boyfriend. “Oops, sorry… I didn’t mean to...”

The blond masseur gave a light laugh, “Don’t be ‘sorry’, Love. It simply means you are relaxing, which is the whole point. And anyways, you forget I’ve witnessed far more from you.” He grinned when Harry groaned, knowing he was thinking of the odd fetish they indulged in from time to time—and dragged his growing erection along his lover’s buttocks as he slid down to work lower.

Draco ripped down the sleep-pants that were in his way and flung them to the floor. He took his time to knead each butt-cheek; when Harry clenched them together, he gave a teasing ‘tsk’ and pulled them apart. He adoringly gazed upon the pucker he loved so much, then frowned in consternation when he saw it was raw and swollen.

“Harry! You randy bugger! Which toy did you take with you? Was it the big black one? And how in the hell did you wank in the tent with Ron so close by?!”

The only response he got from Harry was full-body wriggling and a palm clapped over his crack.

Draco removed the obscuring hand to tease a greased finger over the reddened ring that was closed so tight. Harry mumbled some anguished denial of ‘no wanking’ and swatted at that hand, trying to forcefully buck the blond’s body away and squirm out from under him. Draco’s playfulness plummeted as he took in Harry’s behaviour; something was off.

“Don’t tell me you let the Weasel fuck you! Or some random bloke!” Suddenly, he was enraged. How else would his anus get into such an inflamed state! Jealous and needing answers, the grumbling wizard shot an ‘Incarcerous’ at each of Harry’s wrists, binding him to the bedposts, and another that bound his ankles together and wound around up to his knees.

“Draco!” Harry lifted his head in shock, writhing and testing the ropes that held him fast. “What the bloody hell?!”

The angry blond slapped Harry’s rump and spat, “You tell ME ‘what the hell’! You’re gone for five days, alone with another man unless you’re pursuing the bad guys, you come home, barely say two words to me, don’t want to have sex-- and now this? Somehow your shit-hole has obviously been recently used and abused? Care to tell me how that came about?”

Harry was actually afraid; he could hear the hurt through the irate tone and he was helplessly tied up and at the mercy of a very vindictive boyfriend. He squeaked, unable to tell him the real truth. It was too embarrassing!

Draco continued his rant, “I was under the impression that you promised me that was mine-- and only mine! Or was I mistaken?”

His lover’s silence angered him even more but then a cold dread doused the heat. What if he’d been raped? His memory flashed on one of Harry’s first field assignments: he’d come home in a strange mood and he’d had to learn about it days later from Granger-- of all people-- when she asked how they were coping after the torture. Harry had begged and pleaded with him, insisting it was no big deal-- he didn’t want to worry Draco and show how much of a stupid novice he was. He’d sworn he’d be completely forthcoming in the future.

But Harry still wasn’t talking and he was starting to get scared.

“I demand you tell me!” he growled, masking his fear with anger. Spitefully, he shoved his slick middle finger up into Harry’s rectum. Harry squealed (from pain or surprise, Draco wasn’t sure) and went rigid as a board. He even stopped breathing.

Draco’s breath hitched when he poked up against something very hard with a very wide, blunt end. His eyes widened in disbelief.

Harry didn’t know how to react so he did nothing. He couldn’t move due to his restraints (but also from his mortification at what his boyfriend was touching and about to discover).

Draco’s tone softened somewhat, “Why did you put something in so large and let it get swallowed? I warned you, toys can get lodged behind your sphincter if you don’t keep one end out and it’s really dangerous!” he admonished.

Harry just shook his head, burying his burning face in the pillow. He thought he was going to die of humiliation when he felt Draco’s finger circling around the circumference, judging the width. He couldn’t say it aloud, he just couldn’t!

Realizing this to be the source of Harry’s odd behavior, he was relieved, but still very concerned by the sheer size and density of the object. He smoothed a hand over the small of his lover’s back, “Did you try pushing?” He watched the back of Harry’s head mutely nod. “Not too vigorously, I hope? With a monster this size you could really hurt yourself if you don’t do it properly.”

There was a muffled moan, and then a whisper. “I just pushed a little and tried to dig a bit—un-lubed, a big mistake by the way-- It hurt too much. I thought I might tear.”

“Too right, you would,” Draco murmured soothingly, “Now, what is it? I need to know what I’m working with if I am to help you.” Harry didn’t answer, so Draco continued, “It’s fine, I’m not mad anymore, you can tell me… What course we take depends on when you had your last bowel movement.”

Still, the brunet was silent. “Harry!” he said a bit sharply, “Tell me!”

“Draco…,” he finally whined, “do we really have to do this? Can’t you just leave it be? I know you’re a doctor and all, but—“

“Doctor!” Draco screeched, entirely scandalized. “I. Am. A. Healer! Not one of those nutters that cut people open and stitch them back up like tailors sewing clothes!”

Harry rolled his eyes (thankfully, that was hidden from Draco’s sight as well). “I meant you’re a Spell-Damage Specialist. I wouldn’t think you’d want to be mucking around in my bum. Besides, I’m sure it will just sort itself out in time.”

He could hear the blond huff through his nose the way he did when he had a list of counter-arguments to make that would one by one refute Harry’s claims and prove his ignorance. He wasn’t wrong.

“Firstly, an object of this size will not just ‘sort itself out’. I can’t even get a finger alongside it. That means it is acting as a cork and will back up everything you are digesting and cannot be removed without help or severe damage to your cute little pucker. Second, since you’re so sufficiently plugged up, your intestines will fill and not be able to expel waste as it comes along. That is extremely bad for your health. You would cause swelling, ulcers along your alimentary canal, fissures and ruptures.”

The lecturing Mediwizard took a deep breath and continued, “Thirdly, any rip in the lining of your smooth muscle can allow fecal matter to enter the blood stream which can lead to toxicity. Fourth, what do you think they had the first and second years doing while we got our B.A.T.S.? We were learning and doing all the general healing stuff, hence the name ‘Basic Apprentice Treating Skills’! Everything the higher-ups didn’t want to stoop to.

And, lastly…. I want you to be able to take my cock sometime in the near future.”

Harry could hear the smile in that last statement, trying to put him at ease after all those dire predictions that had him clenching in fear. It was somewhat comforting that he had a Healer for a boyfriend, but in some ways that made it worse.

He wouldn’t be worried about being attractive to some random witch or wizard in St. Mungo’s, but then again, the less outside people who saw him in such an embarrassing, compromised state, the better. Of course, it DID help that Draco had seen and been covered in his shit before (and vice versa) and he certainly didn’t mind odd bodily functions (at least when they came from him).

That reasoned out-- and he really was in need of help-- he focused on Draco again, who was still talking--

“-- so that’s why.” The air was thick with expectation. He supposed he was meant to say something here, but he hadn’t heard the question. “Harry,” Draco said with a tinge of irritation, “When did you put the toy in? You have to tell me the last time you took a dump.”

“Fuuuuuuuck…” Harry trailed off in supreme discomfiture and mumbled his answer into the pillow. He felt a brisk shake on his shoulder, which made it obvious Draco hadn’t heard and was getting impatient. “There is no toy,” the embarrassed brunet ground out, knowing that Draco would now become aware that he was touching his offending waste but courageously continued, “and the last time I went was the morning I left,” he admitted, blushing to the tips of his ears.

The probing immediately stilled. “What? You mean when you left here?” Draco was dumbfounded when he saw the back of Harry’s head nod again. “But that was almost six days ago! You’re full of shit!”

Harry winced when he would have to confirm that. “No, I’m not. It’s true,” he defended himself a little adamantly, a little sheepishly.

“No, I mean that literally. You’re full of crap.” He withdrew his digit from Harry’s anus, wiped it surreptitiously on the sheets and reached under, pressing his fingertips around his belly. Draco could feel it was stiff and distended in places and shook his head in dismay. Five days… “Why didn’t you take something that would help you go?”

“I ate the beans on toast and side of fruit Ron fixed this morning, thinking that would get things moving,” Harry answered in his defense. “That usually slips through really fast, I thought it would shunt everything forward in its path. But I think it’s stuck. My guts hurt right under my stomach and it’s not going anywhere, no matter what I do.”

He flinched when he recalled the past forty-eight hours of intestinal agony that had plagued him, the last twelve being especially difficult; the sweaty shaking, chilling goose-bumps and nausea with each cramp while his body screamed to be emptied but would not allow it.

“You’re probably right. If you’d only been constipated for a day or two that may have done the trick, but now you’re completely impacted. Why didn’t you just take a remedy after the first couple days?”

“I didn’t want to,” Harry mumbled. “I can’t go in the tent. It’s too small and there’s no privacy with the loo.”

Draco drew in an appalled gasp. “Do you mean to tell me that you are that much of a shameful shitter that you refuse to answer when nature calls? That you’ll hold it no matter what, even if it slows you down in combat? You stupid stubborn git!”

Cringing in chagrin, Harry internally conceded Draco did have a point about not being at the top of his game when hunting down criminals, but the alternative, he just couldn’t deal with. Harry finally lifted his head and looked back in defiance, “I can’t and I won’t, OK?”

“No! It is NOT all right when it sacrifices your health! It’s bad enough if you happen to get stopped up naturally, but to do it on purpose?! Don’t you realize that when you hold it, your body keeps on reabsorbing the moisture until you’re left with a rock in your rectum?!”

Harry shook his head ‘no’. He hadn’t known the specific mechanics of passing his poo, he just knew he couldn’t abide letting loose his stink with someone so close by, even though it was his oldest friend-- his best mate that certainly had no problem with sitting on the pot for so long it was obvious what he was doing (not to mention the stench that permeated their tent and Ron was so easily able to laugh off later). No, Harry could not tolerate ‘advertising’ that. “Well, by the time I was uncomfortable enough to chance it, it was too late.”

“Ah, Harry….” Draco sighed sadly (but could sympathize—he was the same way. In fact, he still flooed home from work if he had to go unexpectedly. It was fine for anyone else to be known to shit, but not himself. He couldn’t really fault him for that, except he wanted his beloved to be healthy and thought that was the most important thing in the world).

“Well, first things first. We can’t do an enema—adding even more volume is absolutely out of the question. And since its fecal matter and I don’t have a DiagnoStick here right now, I can’t be sure if you’ve already torn so Vanishing’s out. I’m going to have to do some procedures manually and analyze things from there.”

Harry wasn’t sure why that mattered, why he couldn’t just do things with his regular wand but he accepted Draco’s expertise as he really wasn’t in any position to argue. Speaking of which, he just had to ask, “Do I have to still be trussed up for this? Wouldn’t this be better done in the bathroom?”

“You need to be as immobile as possible, in some ways, and you’ll only tense up on the cold tile floor…” Draco lied glibly (well, half-lied—he could have cast cushioning and warming charms on the bathroom, but this way was just too much fun to forgo—and Harry was far too distracted to think of it).

Smirking to himself about what he was about to make happen right there on the bed, he continued enigmatically but truthfully, “Parts of you need to relax fully, while I can manipulate you into a couple different poses… Use stretching, gravity, elevation…” He trailed off with the vague reasons as he continued to palpate Harry’s abdomen in downward strokes, starting from just under his rib cage. It was squishier there and Harry squirmed. There was a rumble and a liquidy-sounding gurgle.

“You better do the “no-smell” spell,” Harry reminded him, before he could take any of this humiliating experience to the next level—who knew what was going to happen and lots of food had been stagnant and fermenting for quite some time. He felt like he was going to explode for the past few days, but nothing had happened no matter how hard he tried. Then again, he hadn’t been getting excellent medical care for it either. Harry could feel things moving around but trapped; it was like a swelling bubble gathering itself up and it made him feel a bit sick.

Next thing he knew, Draco was easing his knees under him and curving his back so that his ass was spread and waving high up in the air right in his lover’s face.

“Shush… Just relax. This is kind of like burping a baby in reverse, or backwards, or something like that. It will take a bit of time for the gas to rise from your duodenum.” Harry thought this an odd procedure and Draco continued his explanation as if he’d actually asked the question, “This is something my nanny taught me-- it’s not St. Mungo’s standard by any means, but extremely effective.”

He gently rubbed the tortured belly and his voice went soft in reminiscence, “I used to have terrible ‘tummy trouble’ before I was diagnosed as lactose intolerant and they saw fit to correct it permanently. Nanny Hannah would do this to relieve me as best she could. Although, there was not much she could do to console me the time I messed my new, white silk robes and Italian leather boots at the ice cream social the summer I turned five. Mother didn’t speak to me for at least a fortnight… Anyway, pretty soon you should feel it.”

It was if those words flipped a switch because as soon as he said that, Harry could feel a great airy mass that had been pressurized in the upper parts of his abdomen shift, rocket back and forth through his pipes and upwards, pressing firmly around the blockage in his rectum. Thrilled with its proximity to freedom, he pushed at the exact time Draco warned him not to.

And the strangest thing happened: It came out all right, in a huge trumpeting rattle that flapped his ass-lips with its force, but then as soon as it was done, it was as if the muscles in his ring-- still slightly open-- sucked air back in! Harry gasped in disbelief as he was filled again!

“I should have warned you earlier...” Draco said softly. “It’s not big deal, we’ll do it again, but this time, when you feel the effluvium at your back door, close down and then I’ll lay you horizontal. When you let loose, it will stay out. Truthfully, the more natural stimulation we do, the more your epithelial lining will produce rippled contractions and natural mucous. That’s exactly what we want. Just straighten out when you feel it.”

It didn’t take long, for the air didn’t travel very far and he was once again ready. He eased his pelvis down as Draco guided him and slipped a pillow under his hips, his butt still jutting in the air a tiny bit. Draco curved his spine slightly to the right, telling him he was straightening out his descending colon and on his cue, Harry let it rip.

It was loud, and long and would no doubt stink to high heaven if not for the “Rhinal Anasenthsia” that he’d made sure Draco had cast earlier—And ohhhhh fuck, the relief! The blessed, blasted relief! There was still some up in there, and of course all the solid matter remained a heavy weight in his innards, but the squidgy bubbling and cramping in his upper intestines was immediately quieted to a bearable level. He let out a long moan…

“That’s good Harry. You did very good.” And Harry basked in the praise as well as the first round of satiation. Draco was now squeezing down along his abs, in an undulating pattern of downward motions above his navel. “If it was just an upper GI problem, I’d have you repeat that a few more times, but as it is, we are going to need some of that pressure to move things along later on.”

“Now, I’m going to practice some reflexology on you… Don’t worry, it will feel quite nice. You like it when I massage your feet, do you not?” At Harry’s dazed nod, he brought Harry’s bound feet onto his thighs and started pressing various points, starting with rubbing his toes with oil-slippery hands.

It felt great. Harry vaguely wondered when Draco had shed his clothes as he could feel the fine hair of his legs on the backs of his feet, but didn’t care as the massage made his head clear yet fuzzy at the same time and all his muscles relax… Soon, he sensed more drizzled lube on his soles and the overwhelming feelings of complete physical well-being started to flood him.

Then there was a concentrated effort on the bridges of his feet, just above the heel. The outsides of his footprint on each foot were then focused on, with more emphasis on the left. And Harry felt warmth and a sweet shifting of his bowels. Such a firm but gentle handling with those thumbs digging in led him to another very satisfying fart, the strength of this one pushing the hard blockage right up against the inside of his sphincter. His pucker pulsed in pleasure and anticipation. He could feel that things were definitely moving and getting ready to launch.

“OK, Draco, that feels really wonderful. You can let me up. I think I can use the toilet now.”

Draco just chuckled softly, “Honey, you’re close, but not that close.” At his lover’s whimper, the blond drawled, “I still need to lube you up and dilate your hole...”

“But its right there, Love. Just let me go to the loo and be done with this!” Harry maintained, almost as desperate to get away as he was before all the “help”.

“No, Harry,” Draco insisted. “Your opening is nowhere near prepared for voiding yet. Let me do this for you…”

Harry groaned when his request was denied and then at the slick fingering around his twitching anus (that was too close to where his nasty load lay). And then—blaming all the overwhelming feelings-- he admitted, even though he hadn’t meant to, “It’s pressing on my prostate and making me hard—and that’s just wrong, OK? You did a great job, Sweetness, but I’m ready, all right? I can’t go on the bed! Just take me to the bathroom-- get this disgusting crap cork out of me there and let me go empty the rest on the commode!”

He was getting a little freaked out by how his body was responding to all this unusual stimulation and wiggled his hips into the pillow to give his now fully interested cock some friction. That, and he really didn’t think his lover needed to feel and SEE whatever monsturd was lurking within; sure, they’d messed around with scat play, but they never had their faces mere centimeters away from the action, getting a front row view!

Draco purred lowly, his mouth pulled into to a devious smirk. “That won’t be happening… you need to remain stationary and relaxed. Besides, I’m after the whole tract-full, right here, as soon as I get you ready.” That sounded very ominous, especially since he was tied up with no escape. Well, he could just hold it like he had been. Yes, that’s what he’d do.

Harry heard Draco murmur, “Just go with it,” and left him chilled in his damp sweat. After a moment and a few more twinges of cramping that raised the hair on his arms and neck, he felt the same eager finger circle once more then slowly breach. Yeah, one digit was easily accommodated by his sore hole since he’d been pushing off and on for the past three days-- and with the grease, it felt quite nice. Another finger was introduced quickly, staying just inside the rim… And it was goooooooood!

Was it bad that he felt a huge surge of sexual pleasure as the strong palms against the inside of his cheeks spread them, fingertips on the outer indents of his hips and both thumbs plunging into his hole, pulling it apart? God it was so wrong, but soooooo right! The heavy volume weighing on his inner wall, leaning on his prostate had him instinctively thrusting back and frotting forward on the pillow below.

Harry didn’t know if he was glad or disappointed when all that seemed to happen was a lot of rubbing and stretching of his opening—far beyond what they had come to consider acceptable preparation for sex. Actually, it was about driving him mad when Draco stopped and spread more lube around his hole and went to slather his feet again. Harry didn’t question it, he just concentrated on the sensations. His poop-chute was more than slicked and with whatever pressure points were being pressed on his feet, he could feel the downward, outward motion start anew.

Fuck! He felt his hole open up and completely ready to give birth to his vile ‘butt-baby’! And it started to slide out all on its own with no effort. That may have been the most astounding sensation of all!

The feeling when the first part of it breached his exit was indescribable! It felt like a ton, but in reality it only slipped a couple millimeters. It was hot and hard, but yielding, stiff, yet somehow the best natural clay…. It was like the perfect toy stimulating his prostate, penetrating him in reverse. His conscious mind screamed ‘NO! Not on the bed!’ and he sucked in his muscles, retracting it back. Draco softly chided, “Uh, uh, uh,” and went to spread his buns again. “Let it go…” he cooed.

It started slow and then gained momentum; a deep breath in forced some more length out. The subtle crackling pops that sputtered spurred Harry on to relax fully. He relinquished all responsibility and decorum, giving his bowels permission to allow nature to take its course, right there, no matter that he was lying on the blankets of their bed. It felt so wonderful to surrender control! Whether it was physical or mental—or both—it was a euphoria of sorts… (Perhaps a ‘Poophoria’?).

It’s not like it shot out, it was progressing bit by bit, but yes…. Slowly and steadily it was coming. And Draco couldn’t be happier. He kept up his rubbing of the crucial pressure points-- the transverse and descending colon-- on Harry’s feet while he watched in fascination at the behemoth that was emerging. The cute little gusty ‘phut, phut’ noises that were escaping around the edges were totally turning him on; Harry’s embarrassed groans turned to moans of sensual pleasure and his rutting shamelessly on the pillow below his groin tipped Draco over the edge.

He couldn’t help himself and was rubbing his hardened shaft in the oil on Harry’s bound feet. He couldn’t look away from watching the knobbly log, while still firm was turning softer in consistency. It slipped along the seam of Harry’s inner thighs, settling into the trench that his pressed together legs made.

Each slippery poke of Draco’s prick served to continue the manipulation of the reflexology points of his small intestines, which in turn, kept the evacuation of Harry’s bowels going. And going. And going. The sheer volume was astounding!

The enraptured blond held his breath as Harry’s hips started to buck erratically, then panted out, “Push!” Evidently, Harry did because in the next moment, his prolapsing hole spewed forth a froth of mushy, bubbling feces and slightly sprayed when pockets of gas burst noisily. Harry’s cheeks got even messier when he clenched them and desperately drove his cock into the cloth below him one last time, spurting out his release out the front as he had the back. With a guttural, feral howl, Harry came and his assplosion ended in a grand finale with one prolonged bout of burbling flatulence that fluttered through the mound of gushy glop that coated his opening.

“Oh fuck!” Draco grunted out through gritted teeth at the sickly sexy scene before him. Harry’s highly climactic double satisfaction wrenched his own orgasm out of him. Chanting and whimpering his lover’s name over and over, he pulsed scalding sticky jizz all over Harry’s feet. He collapsed beside the brunet that was shuddering through aftershocks of ecstasy, lying his sweaty brow on his arm and panting in unison with his lover. Neither of them were able to move for quite a while.

Harry was in an indescribable state of bliss. Every cell and molecule in his body was singing and vibrating with well-being. He had truly never felt better in his life—between the massage, the relief of his digestive distress and of course, an amazingly powerful orgasm, he was floating in a sea of complete and utter satiation. When he was finally able, he asked Draco to undo his bonds. Draco heaved himself up and countered the spell, he still couldn’t move, both from being totally sated and exhausted, but also not to dislodge the shit all over his skin and have it fall on the bed.

“Draco, vanish that crap, would you? I need a bath.” But all he was met with was a small snicker. “Please don’t laugh at me! It’s bloody bad enough as it is!” he whined, his humiliation seeping back as he was being made fun of, filtering through his physical high.

“No, Love, I’m not laughing at you—that was incredible, so insanely sexy,” Draco ran a tired but reverent hand over the love of his life’s flank, “It’s just…” he paused and sniggered a bit before he could explain. “I can actually discern each meal. There are distinct sections of different colour and texture along its length…”

Harry winced and blushed at what the blond was seeing and still (mortifyingly) discussing, “I wish I could take a picture to show you—I know, I know, the ‘no evidence’ rule! It’s just amazing…. Did you have plums with your breakfast today?” Draco asked conversationally, although he already knew the answer; he could see the shredded purple fruit skins in the last, loose stew that only recently ingested beans could produce.

Harry blushed even harder and groaned. “God, Draco… Please!”

“Oh lighten up, it’s amusing.” The blond said far too cheerfully for Harry’s liking.

“Oh, I think I ‘lightened up’ about five kilos,” he grumbled, then explained, “It’s fucking embarrassing to have you analyzing my shit to the point you can tell what I ate! Quit looking at it, talking about it and get the fuck rid of it, you prat! And we’ll take a long soak now, yes?” Harry couldn’t know how much Draco found him so utterly adorable in that moment.

Draco chuckled and did as he was bade. Harry’s heavenly feeling only increased when the sticky, hard mass of his expulsion was removed without a trace (the sheets spared from everything, including his ejaculate). All that was left in its wake was pure comfort and joy.

Easing Harry’s limp body into the herbal scented hot water he’d drawn, Draco looked down on him with love and reverence. Just before the blond was about to step in and join him, Harry smiled up at him sweetly, “Will you bring me some of the dinner you made? Suddenly I’m starving!”

)*(

There is another chapter brewing: Draco gets a little squicky payback… For anyone who can’t help but take another peek! (I know, I know, it’s like a train wreck—sometimes you can’t look away!)

For everyone else: when you see the update, run far, FAR away and click the ‘back’ button until you are safely returned to “Vanilla” territory!
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Crap! #2