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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Author’s Notes and Warnings:

Thanks for all the nice rates and reviews! You make me happy :) (And I can’t believe no one has called me sicko yet! :)

Ok, this chapter is pretty out there. I mean, they all are to a certain extent, but this focuses on the paraphilia AB/DL. I’d only briefly heard of it before, so I googled it-- Interesting, yes, but after wandering down the random road of a website devoted completely to videos… um… wow. Just, wow. (I would have thought one would have to pay some raunchy site to watch such things, but no.) I now appreciate my own imagination very much because I think I’ll just stick to thinking of the hot and incredibly handsome actors Dan Radcliffe and Tom Felton in the terrible shituations I put JKR’s characters in.

This is another installment in the same squicky vein, so again, warnings go out to those who should steer clear and ‘cheers’ to those who have the intestinal fortitude to withstand it and go forward anyway.

)*(

Babied! (bundles of joy)

_)*(_

“I worked on an interesting case this week,” Draco told Harry over his shoulder, buried in the ice box while it was taking him an inordinately long time to shuffle things around and grab two beers. The blond handed over the open bottle and made his way to the den for their usual Friday night movie (played on the muggle discs Harry insisted they have).

Harry settled into his corner of the couch and looked up with interest, his riveting gaze telling Draco he was eager to hear all about it. His lover never talked much about what he did at his job, unless it was useful information for the Auror department to be made aware of.

“Yeah,” Draco sat beside him and reached for the throw blanket folded on the back and spread it over their legs, “A woman dragged her poor husband in, convinced he’d been hexed or cursed. My initial scans showed nothing—no damage, no dark arts as she’d been insisting. Even if the spell was unknown, something would still show up,” he added dismissively, then continued, “She wouldn’t say what she thought had happened, just demanded I reverse whatever evil I found.”

Harry wondered where this was going; he loved a good mystery. “So how did you solve it?”

Draco preened a little at Harry’s avid attention and the admiration in his tone, made clear by his unwavering faith in his diagnostic and treatment skills. “When all the physical tests were exhausted and turned up nothing, I asked to speak with the patient alone. The wife was steadfastly refusing to speak of the ‘symptoms’ and he obviously wasn’t going to say anything with her present…” The blond paused for effect and took a deep pull of his ale. He smiled as Harry copied his action and then went on, “Once we were by ourselves, he told me everything.”

The intrigued brunet was sitting forward in his seat, “So what was it?”

“Have you ever heard of what muggles call ‘AB/DL’?” he asked, tugging on his earlobe, betraying his heightened nervousness with the conversation.

“No…” Harry frowned in contemplation, searching his memory but not finding any clue. “What is that?”

“Well, after he told me his side of the story, it was revealed. I had to do some research on Hermione’s ‘inTER. Net’.” (Harry had to suppress a smile at how his boyfriend still mispronounced muggle technology terms, like he couldn’t get the hang of a foreign accent. Sometimes he suspected he did it on purpose, just to maintain a cultural distance or distinction, but probably to hide the fact that he enjoyed what the innovations had to offer.)

Harry, ever the impatient Gryffindor (and suspicious about the odd way Draco was acting), practically shouted, “What is it?!”

“It seems that this gentleman, a very nice chap by the way-- in good health, very much sane and straight-laced in his professional life—was discovered in his study one night by his wife. He was lying on the floor on a mat, looking at children’s picture books.” Harry looked nonplussed and Draco took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to explain and how his lover might react. “And he was suckling a baby’s bottle and wearing a diaper.”

“Wha-what?” Harry half laughed in his disbelief. “Oh shut it, you’re putting me on!” He was starting to get an inexplicable antsy feeling that grew more as all Draco’s cues pointed to him being serious. He felt a squirming in his belly and wondered why hearing about an otherwise healthy adult wearing diapers (and possibly that he was using them) would get to him. There were vague swirling instincts churning within him, but nothing he could name.

Draco took in all the signals Harry couldn’t help but project; the Healer hadn’t expected such a strong and immediate reaction, but there it was. He wondered if he was being a bit too cruel with his plan, but then flashed back to the ‘abducted unconscious, almost naked and tied up’ scenario and decided that whatever happened would be worth it.

“Yes, well, it appears there is a COMpu-ter community which details this AB/DL—which stands for Adult Baby, Diaper Lover—and describes grown people who like to be treated like infants or toddlers. Some simply dress and act like babies and enjoy the innocence, no sex, no mess. And some like wearing diapers so they can dirty them and get off on it. Those are the opposite ends of the fetish’s spectrum; most are some percentage or any combination of that there within.”

“No one would do That willingly, no way.” Harry’s pupils were dilated and Draco could see the tell-tale bulge in his lover’s trousers that he was trying to hide.

Draco let a scheming smirk cross his lips, dropping the bomb he thought Harry might relate to, “He said he enjoyed the freedom,” and snaked a hand under the blanket to fondle his own burgeoning arousal and honed in on those emerald irises. “He pretends his way back to a time where he didn’t have to make decisions, didn’t have to be in charge. A time when his every need was taken care of…”

Draco noted Harry had a strange look on his face but continued. “Upon being found out, he asked his wife if she would indulge him his occasional little respites from the hectic world—from his self-owned business and turbulent family life he has so much responsibility over. He wanted her to mother him-- And she brought him to St. Mungo’s and aired his dirty laundry, so to speak.”

Both men hung their heads in sympathy, knowing it had to take balls to admit and ask for That—and the subsequent humiliation at being rejected by his partner and then his most private, somewhat deviant desires being publically dissected at the nation’s leading healing institution…

While Harry was still looking down, Draco summoned Hugo’s emergency back-up baby bag from the storage space down the hall that they kept odds and ends in, (the cupboard under the stairs that Harry mysteriously refused to look in or touch). The overloaded satchel, packed with enough items for an expedition to the arctic, thumped heavily into his outstretched hand. Those luminous green eyes landed on him once again.

“And then I thought…” Draco growled with acid and honey in his tones, “That a diaper would be the perfect pay-back to you for making me sully my undies last week!”

All color drained from Harry’s face, giving him an ashen, peaky look as Draco pulled a small white square out of the tote. Harry watched in terror as Draco cast an ‘Engorgio’ on the cotton and plastic disposable with a pleased sneer; he shuddered when it grew to a size that would fit him.

Finally he found his voice, “You can’t be serious! I won’t do That!” Harry eyed him warily, knowing that despite his protests, he was fairly certain that his lover was determined to make it happen and would resort to under-handed tactics. (Fuck! Where did he leave his wand?) Well, Harry thought, I’ll just take it off when I need to use the loo. He refused to ‘fudge his huggies’ on purpose! (Yes, he got that American-muggle phrase from the new father Ron-- who’d heard it god knows where, but thought it hilarious and apropos enough to say it about his son every chance he got).

The normally macho Auror yelped in the next moment as his trousers and pants vanished and the thick padding of the diaper sealed itself snugly around his pelvis. Oh, the indignity! He hadn’t mentally prepared and steeled himself for the sensation of it. Frantically, he tugged and picked at the tapes on the sides but they wouldn’t budge. “Bastard!” he spat, beyond confused by this bizarre turn of events to their evening and humiliated by his current predicament.

His fingers finally stopped their fruitless scrabbling over the waistband and leg holes when Draco drawled, “’Permanent Sticking’ charm. ‘Impervious’d too, it won’t leak or rip. It will not come off until I cancel the spells. That tough guy act you put on last time needs to be tempered by making you as helpless as a baby.”

Harry seethed, feeling ridiculous and extremely exposed at sitting on their sofa in only a nappy, old T-shirt and effing socks—like a toddler! Fine, he thought, I’ll just hold it until he gives up. He’s just trying to prove a point and make me sweat. Like I did to him last week… and then made him crap uncontrollably in his pants. Oh shit! The full realization that Draco would be just as relentless, just as eager to settle the score and fueled by his ruthless conviction that he had every right to do this slammed into his gut like a ton of bricks. Sooner or later, his boyfriend was going to see to it that he soiled himself.

Draco saw the emotions flitting across Harry’s face. When his apprehensive gaze turned to the fireplace, he spoke, filling in the details of this new ‘game’:

“I’ve blocked the floo to only accept audio messages in case of emergency.” He watched as that seemed to relax him a bit, somewhat relieved by having privacy during this ordeal. “So we have the entire weekend for this to play out.” That immediately made the Auror tense again but seemed shocked into silence (and oddly enough, some measure of compliance).

“Now, I will take care of your every need. I will feed you, clothe you, change and bathe you. Whether or not you choose to engage in other aspects of being an infant is up to you, like sucking on a pacifier, but I think I prefer not to partake in any sickening baby-talk.” His exaggerated shudder of revulsion earned him a small smile from Harry (the brunet could almost literally see his boyfriend’s skin crawl when they were in the presence of any of the newest generation of Weasleys and the children were cooed at in nauseating motherese.)

“So let me get this straight—I’m going to be babied, by you, all weekend?” Harry pulled the blanket and wrapped it around himself so his near nudity and embarrassing apparel was hidden. “So you’re going to ‘pamper’ me?” he asked with a wry grin.

Draco gave an imperious nod, “Exactly. I am going to treat you like a little prince. You’ll want for nothing and have everything decided and provided for you.” (He missed the green eye-roll directed at him when he didn’t get the muggle pun/joke.) “Who knows? You might like it,” he purred, running a fingertip along the stubborn set of Harry’s jaw. “This might turn out to be more a pleasure than a punishment.”

Harry huffed his skepticism and punched the power button on the remote a bit harshly. He tried to get comfortable while the opening credits rolled but the thick wad between his legs was making him sit funny. He wriggled. His nose wrinkled as the plastic outer-coating on the “torture device” crinkled loudly, reminding everyone in the room exactly what he was wearing. He downed the last of his beer in annoyance and then grimaced as he belatedly realized that would speed up his need to use the toilet.

He snuck a look at Draco, the light from the TV flickering colours over his aristocratic features; he wasn’t comforted by the impish delight that danced in his eyes and the smug smirk gracing his perfect, pouty lips. The blond was squirming a little too, but it was much more subtle, just enough to surreptitiously adjust his almost-full erection in his pants. Clearly Draco was more excited in anticipating what he thought would be happening. Harry solidified his resolve to hold in any waste until he demanded Draco reverse the sticking spell and gave in and freed him.

He made it about half an hour into the movie (which he was so distracted from that he wasn’t following it) when he felt the pressure in his abdomen. The need to piss was starting to press in on him badly, but there was also another feeling in his guts that had him unsettled. He was probably just anxious, he thought, but when a fizzling gurgle sounded in his guts and his boyfriend turned to him with a mischievous glint in his silvery eyes he knew there was more to the plan that he hadn’t been told.

He leveled a pointed glare at his boyfriend. The fucking sneaky snake smiled. Smiled! “How does my baby feel? Do you need to pee yet?”

“No!” Harry bellowed, completely lying. Taking that deep breath and yelling was a big mistake—it had pushed the weight of the fluid more urgently at his urethra and he caved in to the bargaining phase. “Ok, joke’s over. I’ve learned my lesson. Take this damn thing off me and let me go to the loo properly!”

Draco chuckled unremorsefully. “Why Love, I’m completely serious and this IS ‘proper’ for a baby. And for all intents and purposes, you are a child at my mercy and devotion for the next forty-eight hours. You do your business whenever and wherever you are. There’s no need for you to make the trek to the WC. That’s what the nappy is for. And besides,” he spat silkily for good measure and cruelly quoting the man’s very words, “’It’s not meant to be funny. It’s meant to be erotic’.”

The uncomfortable brunet made it fifteen more minutes until the urge to urinate became overpowering and with a thrill of horror, realized another quickly impending emergency was brewing, stewing in his intestines. What had he eaten that didn’t agree with him? Nothing unusual… except the beer that Draco had taken a suspiciously long time to gather—and handed to him already opened! Damn it! “Surprise ambush with the ‘WWW’ potion again, you fucker?” he accused, wheezing through a cramp gripping his gut. His eyes narrowed as the grin spread across the smug blond’s mouth.

“Well, I suppose I could have tied you down and cast an evacuation charm without your permission,” Draco answered nonchalantly, effectively making his point about the ends justifying the means of his revenge, and casually stretching his crossed ankles before him on the coffee table.

“I gave you an ultimatum that night. One you chose to ignore. Before the ‘second act’, I promised if you let me go there would be no retribution. Did you?” It pleased him that Harry hung his head in guilt and shook his head mutely. “No, you did not un-restrain me. And now you find yourself in a similar, constrained, humbling position.”

He didn’t elaborate on how good it ended up feeling—he’d let Harry discover that for himself; he wanted to inflict the most anxiety first, like he’d experienced, then let the profoundness of the result really hit home. Fighting against the taboo at first was the only way they seemed to be able to enjoy adding new unusual aspects of the raunchy play they indulged in from time to time. They had to be forced into experiencing unstoppable “accidents” before they could admit to liking it; somehow, it was all right to let go if the conscious choice was stripped from them.

As Draco sat, analyzing and philosophizing about the nature of their sexy escapades, Harry lurched forward and groaned, holding a protective arm around his middle. Harry flung the blanket aside and stood abruptly with the intention of heading to the bathroom—as useless as that course of action was—but he’d not taken two steps in that direction when he lost control of his bladder.

“Noooo,” he moaned, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Draco stared in rapt attention as the cloth covered crotch passed right in his line of sight and darkened from the moisture, sagging with the wet weight that soaked it. It was obvious he couldn’t stop it once it had started. Harry moaned again and stopped dead in his tracks, his stiff back to his boyfriend and giving him an excellent view of his padded bum. His whole body went rigid, his muscles quivering with effort to stave off the inevitable.

Draco grew achingly hard when Harry reached around and pressed his fingers against the diaper over his butt-hole; he held his breath as the first creamy, warbled ‘frap, frap, frap’ sounds of diarrhea reached his ears. Harry whined “Noooo…” again as he hugged his trunk and sunk to his knees on the floor until his buttocks rested on his heels. He curled forward in a ball and Draco had to squeeze and stroke his cock through his pants at the sight of the descending bulge in the seat of his lover’s pants, the way it drooped between his feet.

The enraptured blond licked his lips as his hand sped up, relishing this prize for his persistence. He watched as Harry’s whole torso heaved as he was forcing the contents of his bowels out his backside like he was vomiting out his ass. Did he put too much potion in? This was beginning to seem too violent for a simple case of the runs. It wasn’t until Harry’s quiet, ashamed whining exploded in a raw anguished sob that he realized something else was going on entirely.

No sooner than he’d heard the mournful wail than Harry was keening with emotional upheaval, escalating into tortured gulps and very nearly hyperventilating. He was rocking back and forth, hands entwined and ripping out the ebony locks on the back of his head, arms clamped down around his ears and whimpering something unintelligible.

Draco froze in shock—he had never seen Harry cry! Sure, he’d had a few solemn and stoic tears slide down his cheeks during the memorial portions of The Battle of Hogwarts commemorative galas they were obliged to attend each year. And his beautiful big emerald eyes had welled up with pride the first time he held Hugo after he was born…

But nothing like this! The brave hero was always so strong and tended to roll with whatever negative things life doled out with an almost eerie sense of detached resignation. Harry had a leonine temper, sure, full of enraged roaring and blustery bravado when angry, but dissolving into withering weeping? If he was going to feel anything fiercely, he got mad not sad! Draco had never seen—in all the time he’d known him and been suffering hardships—anything like this!

Horrified, Draco collapsed beside him on the rug and gathered up the miserable young man scrunched and folded in on himself. He held on to his beloved, hoping to exude comfort and acceptance, but he was frantic about the anomaly to his universe—that his Harry was crumpled in a huge, gut-wrenching, heart-racking, snotty, drooling, squalling-like-a-baby mess of blubbering! (Draco was so distressed he barely registered that each shuddering convulsion Harry labored with caused more squidgy, bubbling as his contorted abdominal muscles spurted more liquefied feces out his body, squishing and oozing, trying to find a direction to flow in while being packed in the absorbent lining.)

The frightened Healer was pretty sure this had nothing to do with adopting the role of a small child as aspects of the fetish implied. He feared he had taken this too far, not thought out the psychological consequences—although, in his defense, he had no idea this might cause a total melt-down. How was this “trauma” any worse than any other they’d played with? Had he broken his boyfriend?!

“Shush, hush now… Shhh, Sweetheart. It’s Ok, everything is all right,” he mumbled over and over in various incarnations, affectionately murmuring into the frazzled black mane his face was buried in and smoothed pacifying touches to where he could reach. He didn’t understand why this particular game had his lover repeating, “It’s not right, It’s not allowed,” like a crazed mantra, but kept up his reassurances all the same, attempting to drive home the point that he loved him no matter what, and everything he’d just done was perfectly fine with him.

Finally the sloppy gibbering died down, as did the full-body spasms, and devolved into an occasional sniffle or errant hiccup here and there (and a few random juicy farts). By the time that silence reigned, it bloomed into awkwardness as the reality of what just happened sunk in. Draco cleared the swollen lump in his throat, “Right, well then. Love, let’s get you cleaned up.” He ‘Feather-light’ charmed Harry to carry him upstairs and set him on the bench he’d transfigured into a changing table.

Harry could not look at Draco and wasn’t able to stand his thoughtful and concerned (and god forbid, pitying) expression he knew would be written there on his face. As Draco set him down, he winced as his effluvium smushed around in his diaper, squirting further around his balls, perineum and up his crack; Harry was mortified about the clumps that were clinging to his undercarriage (but grateful that the whole repulsive mess was completely contained within the confines).

The whole quilted garment felt obscenely heavy on his hips. It was warm, it was wet. It meant the end of feeling icky in his tummy and a good feeling in his private bits. And Draco loves me and says it’s all right-- That’s what Harry’s muzzy mind came up with as he rocked minutely on the changing mattress, pressing the body-warm mass of silty-slick stool against his sensitized skin, making a cake of thin crap spread to cushion across his bottom.

Draco was still rattled from the unprecedented emotional display of earlier but was heartened when he caught the little rotating and grinding movements Harry’s pelvis was making. His lover was coming around to finding the sensation intriguing! He lingered longer than he had to while pulling the assorted wipes, creams and powders out of the well-equipped baby bag and trying to make sense of them. He stole glimpses out of the corner of his eye, drowning in arousal once again as he surreptitiously watched Harry exploring a sensual delight. When the brunet’s eyelashes fluttered closed and he pressed a palm to the front of his bulky, used-up nappy, Draco pounced.

He kissed him tenderly on his eyelids, then his eyebrows, the tip of his nose, the stubble under his jaw-bone—then desperately, passionately all over his face, nuzzling in his hair. “Harry,” he whispered, “You are so beautiful! You are my perfect baby. I love you any which way you are, every which way you are.” He soothingly rubbed Harry’s chest and belly. “You did good to get it all out…”

Harry breathed in a deep shuddering gasp. It was so deeply ingrained in his psyche that befouling fabric was the most evil of sins surrounding eliminating bodily waste that he’d simply crumbled; the crushing feelings that flooded him when he’d soiled his clothing or bedding as a small child had poured out of him tonight in his turbulent and tearful reaction to the memories of Aunt Petunia’s harsh treatment of him when he’d had accidents. All his visceral insecurities and fears of rejection, of being reviled, belittled and shunned began ebbing away with Draco’s loving words and actions.

He was still wary that his lover would withdraw his unconditional support when he caught sight of the diaper when it was opened, but he was feeling very much liberated; his emotional outburst seemed to purge some old hurt in his heart and Draco’s acceptance and approval of him despite being dirty and disgusting started to heal something that had been damaged and neglected for far too long.

He had to cover his face with his arms when Draco peeled back the tape enclosures and lowered the front panel of the padded poo-prison strapped around his crotch. He couldn’t help but groan in embarrassment when he felt cool air hit his damp mucky parts and knew Draco was seeing it all; he blushed deep red when Draco used the piss-wettened side flaps to scrape off the main chunks of shit from between the creases of this thighs and bits.

There was a sweep of magic over the area and the excess remnants were vanished. He chanced a peek under his elbow as Draco wrapped the offending undergarment in a neat, tight bundle. When that too was vanished, he breathed out a huge sigh of relief.

Harry’s physical and psychological relaxation deepened as a warm, wet cloth wiped over his genitals and butt. Draco repeated this process, manually rinsing and wringing out the wash-rag in a bowl of soapy water all over the area covered by the nappy (even though it was already thoroughly cleansed by the ‘Evanesco’ he’d cast earlier). The gentle caresses, whispered reassurances and the turgid bump in the front of Draco’s trousers brushing against his ankle, all combined to put his soul at ease.

He began to really believe he was still wanted, treasured and desirable. He hardened under Draco’s ministrations and was slowly and reverently rubbed to completion. When Harry reached out to reciprocate, Draco moved away, “No, this is all about you.” Harry internally shrugged and relented to being the focus of attention. It felt good. It felt really, really good to be attended to with loving care—To be babied.

“I’m sorry,” the drained Auror said as Draco (after a moment’s hesitation and a furious inner debate that Harry had no clue about) fastened on another enlarged infant diaper from Hugo’s bag and patted his powdered, puffy behind. Draco didn’t understand why he was apologizing as he was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Harry had acquiesced so serenely and implicitly to being changed into a fresh nappy-- to continue the game. “I’ve never done that before.” The red-rimmed green eyes looked sheepish and shy as he admitted that and snuggled against Draco’s side as they lay down in their bed.

“What?” the blond asked, jostling his shoulder and trying for levity, “Filled a diaper or cried out a catharsis?”

The brunet was silent as a few candles flickered nearing the ends of their wicks, then whispered in all seriousness, “Both.”

“Oh, come on Love—everybody did as children… And apparently a few as adults. As for having a good cry every now and again—that’s simply healthy to rid yourself of toxic emotions.”

“No, I mean, I assume my mother let me have diapers, but my Aunt did not.” At his boyfriend’s shocked and disbelieving expression he hastened to explain, “Maybe she thought I would toilet train faster that way? I know she abhorred any mess and I’m pretty sure that’s one of the reasons she didn’t let me eat or drink much. I don’t know all her motivations, I can only guess…”

Amidst the incensed Healer’s apoplectic assertions that human babies lacked not only the physical but mental development required to hold and let go of waste on cue and needed proper nutrients to grow, everything came gushing out. For the second time of the evening, Harry spilled his guts-- this time linguistically:

He told his lover everything-- All the trauma and horror he’d remembered and relived during the time when the Slytherin had been pressuring him to do That that first time at school and the inner turmoil That brought about (especially dirtying clothes and blankets that would subsequently be withheld as punishment). He elaborated on his perceptions, both negative and positive about indulging in That and his undying gratitude to his soul-mate for still loving him no matter what. (He never felt more cherished when he’d had to physically restrain his outraged lover a few times when he bolted upright and snatched around for his wand so he could hunt down the “evil muggles” in Surrey.)

After Harry had talked himself out, and assured Draco with a tremendous yawn that he was perfectly fine, he told him honestly: “Really, I have never cried like that. Ever. I didn’t think I could—but now that I have and you aren’t disgusted, I feel much, much better than I ever have.” Draco didn’t trust himself to speak so he just hugged his precious man tighter. “Love you…” Harry slurred, and succumbed to sleep.

When the spent brunet was out like a ‘Finite’ on a ‘Lumos’, and completely angelic in his trusting peace next to Draco, the blond lay reeling from such revelations regarding the past Harry had always been so tight-lipped about. He blessed any and all deities that the man he loved had come through such a stunting up-bringing to be such a well-adjusted individual. Draco didn’t care for the way Harry could relate the terrible things that marked his childhood so casually and cavalierly, but the estimation of his inner strength and character grew and swelled to epic proportions.

He slipped into slumber determined to make this experiment help heal Harry even more.

_)*(_

The next morning Draco awoke to fidgeting and rustling next to him under the blankets. His bedmate was squirming and apparently fighting some internal battle, his arm jostling Draco’s side as he pinched the tip of his penis through the layers incasing his crotch. The blond gazed upon him with affectionate amusement for a while and then purred, “Surrender.”

The ambivalent brunet scrunched up his face, his features screwed up in indecision, obviously completely conflicted. Then the lines smoothed out as there was an erotic, drawn-out sigh of relief and enjoyment at the decadence of voiding his beleaguered bladder in bed. The diaper change that followed was as soft and loving as the night before; while Draco cleaned him, he stroked Harry until he spurted another kind of liquid satisfaction.

Draco truly enjoyed taking care of his “baby”—It felt nice and somewhat powerful to tend to another’s needs so thoroughly, especially someone he loved so dearly and was so deserving of ultimate comfort and joy. He liked dressing his boyfriend in tiny T-shirts and pulling on his little cotton socks (and getting a nice view of his shapely, dark-haired legs all day).

Harry was adorable as he was being read to and hand-fed-- although after the first breakfast of porridge and mashed banana, he adamantly demanded ‘real food and not some pureed swill that looks like what Molly slops their hogs with’. Draco’s doting was most noticeable with his insistence on stuffing Harry full to bursting with the most delectable of rich foods, delicious drinks and fancy desserts; he was determined to make up for the lack in Harry’s early years (and-- purely coincidently, of course-- load up his alimentary canal with more fuel for diaper-play).

After an initial period of awkward unease with being waited on hand and foot and being the center of attention, Harry seemed to flourish under all the pampering, praise and affection. Draco was happy with this game as it allowed him to spoil his boyfriend but was secretly relieved that Harry was still acting like Harry, simply going about his normal daily activities in a protective undergarment, and not behaving with infantile characteristics. He was not very fond of children and their antics and really, his main interest had been in the diapering and defecation aspect all along.

The second time on Saturday that Harry was forced to wet his diaper (after he’d held off as long as he could) he released his piss standing before the toilet with a confused and curious expression on his face, his hand cupping his crotch. He’d turned and found Draco spying on him and shyly requested to be changed. Again, he was cleaned and then fondled expertly to orgasm.

By the end of the second night, after a lazy afternoon lounging around the house in his nappy, Harry appeared to be growing comfortable in his new ‘outfit’. Sitting in the crook between Draco’s thighs and watching the movie from the previous night that they hadn’t paid attention to and left in the middle of, Harry placed his lover’s hand over his groin and let his pent up urine flow. He felt the chest behind him hitch and breathing speed up as the cloth expanded with the volume of hot fluid is absorbed; the hard bulge nudging at his backside boosted his confidence.

Harry realized, only as he was squeezing out the last dribbles, that Draco had pressed ‘pause’ on the remote so he could hear the faint ‘tttshhhh’ sound of his stream, noting that the hushed trickle had rang out like a shout in the still room. And found he did not feel ashamed. He felt aroused…

That night he was treated to a blow job following his wash-up and fell asleep in his brilliant caregiver’s arms, feeling happily wrapped up in protective padding, both literally and emotionally. He was bundled in love. He was securely swathed in satiation. He was completely content.

_)*(_

They passed Sunday much the same, just taking things easy. Neither of them talked much about anything too serious (or what the fuck they were actually doing) as Draco’s description of his method of ‘revenge’ and Harry’s confession of the first night seemed to exorcise that need. The nervous un-sureness of them navigating previously uncharted territory had them playing along with the ‘game’ in tentative steps and to speak of it would burst the tenuous bubble they had going.

As the day progressed and lunch had been eaten (and Harry’s face and hands had been wiped with a wet dish-rag), Draco began to be perturbed that his “baby” was holding back on defecating. He hadn’t had a bowel movement since the precipitous incident with the ‘WWW’ potion, but the Healer consoled himself in figuring his entire system had been cleared out quite effectively, so it would take some time for the next digested food to make it all the way down his tract.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that Draco became worried. Harry had been atypically gassy and furtively wriggling in his deck chair on the patio for about an hour; he’d been withdrawn and distant, then wandered off into the house and disappeared. As Draco went in to search, a quick ‘Homenum Revelio’ showed one other occupant in their home and to be in the vicinity of the staircase. But when he checked the hall, Harry was nowhere to be seen on the flight wending its way up. He cast again and there it was—a fine blue mist surrounding the door under the steps. The cupboard under the stairs!!

Draco mentally berated himself for not putting together the clues last Friday night of Harry’s reluctance and refusal to acknowledge the storage space, but chalked it up to being so appalled at everything he was hearing that there was no way he could focus in on one lone detail. It had all been so bad that his sole ambition yesterday was to pamper Harry to the utmost of his ability (and not crumple in anguish at the pain his partner had had to endure!) and he had! His boyfriend had been the recipient of every comfort and luxury; the blond had remained strong as he lavished him with smiles and love.

And Harry seemed to have eased into this new ‘game’ and been getting comfortable with the whole AB/DL scenario (as much as they were exploring it currently), so now he was intrigued as to what was happening in the forbidden closet of mystery. Then he froze in shock as a horrifying thought overcame him— what if Harry was in the throes of another break-down?! Oh, he would never forgive himself if he was the cause of more pain! His concern overrode any notion of the concept of privacy and he yanked the door open.

He was not prepared for the sight that greeted his eyes. His lover was curled up in a fetal position on the floor with his back towards him, lying on a small mattress (that he immediately recognized as the one he’d transfigured on the make-shift changing table). Harry had one hand pressing on the disposable cloth at his anus and the other intermittently squeezing his penis through the bulk of his special pants.

Draco had a split-second to wonder if this was a tortured event or an unusual masturbatory experience when his eardrums were inundated with the extremely poignant, sexy and irresistible vocalizations of the sexually aroused. Draco’s cock hardened instantly at the exquisitely perverted tableau unfolding before him and he gripped his shaft tightly.

He stared, unable to avert his gaze, and greedily drank up being a voyeur to this incredibly debauched and hedonistic act. He could barely breathe; he was so titillated and taken by the sounds:

The first “Ah!-ssss!” with a hiss like he’d been burned by overwhelming pleasure, closely chased by the “Huh- uhhhnngggk!” that every man wheezes out in a gusty grunt as he bears down upon a particularly difficult, hard turd—And the measure of time that the breath was held, complete with the strained rumbling in the back of the throat— Then culminating in the “Uhhhh…” exhalation before the erratic puffs scrambling for more lung-fulls of air to start the cycle anew.

Among the raw, animalistic noises Harry was emitting, Draco was drooling at the most alluring thing he’d ever seen. Harry had managed to expel a few centimeters of what appeared to be a very firm piece of shit; there was a slight nub protruding from between his cheeks. He could see Harry reach back and trace its tip with tentative fingers—and then he shoved it back in!

Draco’s hand stilled on his cock; what was Harry doing?! He was pushing again, his hips rocking back—complete with wanton groans— and his hand at his butt. There was a fart from all the exertion and a sizzling sound. Harry’s fingers moved excitedly around the bump, longer this time, and his explorations were accompanied by a pronounced crinkling that signaled his other, unseen hand was working furiously at his front.

This perverse procedure was repeated several times: Force out part of the solid log, stimulate penis, press the poo back into his rectum and stroke the front of his puffy pants harder—all peppered with a delicious assortment of mewls, moans and the unmistakable sighs of unadulterated delight. Holy CRAP! Harry was using his own shit like a toy and fucking himself with it! Draco didn’t think he could possibly get any more turned on but, just as it always was with Harry Potter pushing him to his every limit, he was. He was steadily leaking pre-come and his heart was beating a mile a minute.

When Harry’s movements became frantic, Draco had to squeeze the base of his boner to stave off the impending orgasm that threatened to burst free. The weirdly wanking brunet flopped uncontrollably, thrashing and rutting into his palm. He’d relaxed the hand at his butt-hole that kept the turd from sliding out too far and curved it, apparently ready to cup the crap he was working to expel. The bulge deepened and his pelvis twitched and legs locked with the effort to get it out, fighting past the snug cloth barrier that wasn’t allowing the sausage-shaped mass the space to grow.

Finally—it could have been merely seconds or full minutes of struggle—the length was directed downward until it looked as if Harry had another erect shaft in his pants, only this one was hanging at his backside. The final manual manipulations Harry was able to make through the layers of protection afforded him an incredible climax (if the howls and whines of “Oh fuck yeah… Fuck! Yessssss—Oh god, fuck yes! Soooooo fucking gooooood” were any indication. Well, that and the utterly limp, unresponsive whining bag of bones Harry had become on the dingy closet floor when the full-body spasms subsided).

Still simulating cock-ring status on his raging hard-on with his left hand, Draco managed to ‘Locomotor’ the changing mattress with his “pile-of-goo” (in more ways than one) boyfriend lying lifelessly atop it, up the stairs. Once he got his precious cargo settled at the conveniently waist-high changing surface he barely held back from senselessly pounding into the man right then and there. Draco attempted to tame his desire by massaging Harry’s leadened limbs but that only slightly distracted him from the ache in his loins.

Draco wasn’t completely aware of what he was mumbling to his beloved, but it was making his the beautiful brunet smile and that was all he ever wanted. Harry seemed to return from his euphoric daze when his lustful caregiver moved to undo the tapes at his hipbones. As soon as the front flap was lowered Harry grabbed his semi-hard cock. Draco assumed it was to continue masturbating, so was not expecting Harry to point and aim—and piss on him! A scalding jet of urine splattered him square in the chest and soaked the chest of his shirt.

Draco recovered quickly from his initial shock. “You little stinker!” he growled, his tone tinged with a hint of awe.

Harry laughed and teased playfully, “You said I was to act like a baby—Ron swears Hugo gets him every time he has to change him.”

Draco shoved his torso down, pinning Harry down chest to chest, transferring some of the yellow moisture back to him. He reached underneath and refastened the dirty diaper as he purred menacingly in Harry’s ear, “It seems as if the baby wasn’t done with his nappy just yet. You will sit in it until you are completely finished.”

Harry supposed that was meant to be some form of punishment, but he was impishly determined to turn the tables. Harry sat up with his feet dangling over the edge when Draco stepped away and started unbuttoning his ruined oxford shirt. Slowly, he started swiveling and gyrating his hips, further mashing the poop in his crevice. Harry smirked in mischief and arousal when he saw Draco’s eyes turn molten and dark. The wanton brunet provocatively stimulated his plumped posterior while he ripped off his dampened T-shirt to tweak his nipples.

Draco eeped out an undignified gurgle in his throat as he hastened to tear his dirtied top off and fling it away; he couldn’t hold back at the sight of the deliciously horrible, forbidden act of self-pleasure that assaulted his senses. He grappled Harry’s knees and dragged him forward to be perched at the edge of the table. He spelled off his own trousers as he opened the cushy barrier he’d imposed on lover (like some peculiar, fluffy chastity belt). He ripped down the front half, leaving the portion protecting his rear gaping; the tacky clay-like fecal matter tumbled dryly off the cotton and landed with a dull thud on the carpet between the enraptured Healer’s feet.

No one paid it any mind as Draco was too determined to fuck Harry. The whole weekend playing with this scenario, just now seeing Harry get off spectacularly while messing his pants and the deepening level of trust in their relationship these games implied had carnal desire come crashing down around the crazed blond and he couldn’t wait any longer.

Draco vaguely noticed the gelatinous viscosity of Harry’s previous ejaculation that was adhering the dangling front panel of the diaper to his thigh but was too far gone to care and instead focused on the pulsing pucker that was begging to be filled up. Despite the brown smears adorning Harry’s inner cheeks and clinging messily around his anus, (or perhaps because of that), Draco needed the gratification of his prick sinking into that squidgy, sticky heat… NOW! He plunged balls-deep into that winking hole in one smooth slide.

They were both teetering on the brink of ecstatic release. It was truly amazing that when they played like this it got them to the point of explosion, that one touch to their genitals could send them hurtling into outer space in a blazing flash of surging, passionate oblivion. The trembling blond bit down on the taut tendon at the juncture between Harry’s neck and shoulder-- And they simultaneously went super-nova in the next second when Draco fumbled to grab Harry’s weeping length.

As Draco’s violent spurts died down and his endorphins still buzzed in his ears, he reveled in the fact that he had never felt so alive… and loved. He felt so tranquil and totally at peace with the world. So blissfully relaxed…

And then it happened. It was so unexpected, so terrible, so raunchy that when his body caught up with his mind he didn’t even comprehend it at first. His bladder had let go! Without his consent! Inside his lover’s body!!

Draco went stock-still, his partially softened member acting as a stopper to Harry’s come—and now piss—filled rectum. Green eyes widened in question while Draco’s went as round as two silver sickles in his horror, then clenched tightly shut as he turned his face away in abject mortification.

“Draco?” Harry asked, his voice still shaky from the aftershocks.

The humiliated blond’s blush extended from his hairline to half way down his chest. His dick deflated fully and slipped from his boyfriend’s bung-hole, causing a rush of semen, urine and fecal remnants to gush out, most of it absorbing into the diaper that lay beneath its path. For Harry, the release was perfect, like a scrumptious dessert after a five-course meal; for Draco, it was physically wonderful, but intellectually the epitome of embarrassment.

“Love?” Harry tiredly shook his shoulder. Getting no acknowledgement, he gripped that cute little pointy ferret-chin and bade his quivering lover look at him. “Sweetness, that was… hot.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” the blond squealed, still cringing in disbelief.

“That makes it even sexier!” Harry declared. Draco huffed his breath in his dubiousness and quickly vanished any and all traces of their combined bodily emissions. They were both silent as they made their way to bed, both remaining naked. Harry felt a little odd—he’d gotten somewhat used to being bundled up in the swaddling of the diaper, but was also relieved that they could cuddle together, bare skin on skin again.

“This weekend was… interesting…” Harry ventured, trying to get Draco to snap out of his current funk. Draco made a non-committal noise and Harry frowned. He’d been through a lot of psychological growth and self-awareness the last two days and he really needed his lover’s acceptance right now, damn it! “Draco! If anyone is going to feel ashamed at all the stuff we did this weekend it should be me! I liked it and I thought you did too! Or was that just an act so you could laugh at me to yourself?”

That spurred Draco into responding vehemently (just like Harry knew it would), “No! I really enjoyed it!” but then added meekly, “It’s just… I… had an accident.”

“Are you sure that wasn’t to get me back for squirting your shirt?” Harry asked with an affectionate twinkle in his tone.

Draco groaned, “No… It was totally unintentional! I didn’t plan that… I wouldn’t! …” It was one thing to be forced into an uncontainable event, but another beast entirely to be the victim of bodily weakness! It was with a heavy heart he admitted, “I just… lost control.”

“And I told you it was hot.” Harry stated with a finality to his tone like it settled the matter. “You know,” he began thoughtfully, “maybe next time you should be diapered,” and jostled the shoulders of the man he loved in a playful way.

“Hmmm, maybe,” the spent blond conceded. “Do you think you’ll ever do That with the baby-pants again? That wank in the cupboard was what was hot…”

Harry smiled. “Yeah,” he agreed, “that was amazing—you should try it. I’m not saying I’d do That all the time, but every once in a while if the mood strikes, I’d be up for another go…”

Draco was secretly glad that Harry wasn’t going to take this on as a constant life-style choice, but was also happy that the experiment—despite its surprising twists and unwieldy turns—was a success. He was also curious about being diapered, since he’d enjoyed the underpants pooping he’d done while tied up the loo last week, (but wasn’t ready to admit it out loud just yet). Instead, he held onto the love of his life harder, willing him to understand just how much he meant to him.

“Any time you get the urge, just let me know,” Draco murmured, slipping into the twilight of dreamy dozing. “It was a pleasure for me too-- To take care of you… You deserve that kindness and consideration… and much, much more.” Then his voice turned husky, “I really loved watching you… go… do That. I’ve never been more turned on in my life.”

Harry gave an exhausted chuckle and smoothed his palm across his lover’s shoulders with his last ounce of energy, “You know? I’ve never come so hard… ever… it was brilliant.” Harry whispered as sleep threatened to overtake him, “But mostly, I just… love you… Thank… *yawn* you…” Draco smiled as he too drifted off into a soporific slumber in his boyfriend’s strong arms, filled with nebulous images of being bundled up in comfort and joy.

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Sorry for all those readers that wanted Harry to discover his inner AB-ness… Yeah, I apologize for anyone who was psyched for a strictly AB story. In this particular universe, my Harry is already past needing or wanting to enact infantilism—he doesn’t know how nor does he require it (and this Draco isn’t very fond of children). But they both dig the DL part. And since this is a scat series, that was the focus.

Although, I can totally see how canon Harry, with his harsh background, could really believably, be into wanting to play an AB—I think that could be really healing for the character. And I would be SO interested in a story surrounding that if someone who really knows about how it is to live an AB role would write it.

Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed this one-- I certainly did-- and wanted to let you all know there are at least 4 more one-shot/PWP’s outlined with various methods of scat-play involved. Anyone care to hazard a guess at what Harry chooses as his method of “revenge”? ;P
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Crap! #2

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