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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Author’s Notes and Warnings:

Thanks for reading, reviewing and rating—it always makes my day :) Any and all comments are more than welcome!

All the same cautions apply. There IS some ‘non-con/getting into it’ action regarding women’s underwear. So if that’s a squick of yours, press the “back” button—otherwise, enjoy!

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Dragged! (queens for a day)

_)*(_

Draco was fuming!

He’d never noticed until he’d confronted the insidious miasma of the remains of the Locket Horcrux that Harry used rather effeminate adjectives to describe him; how had he missed the use of “dolled-up” and “pretty” rather than more gender neutral terms like “gorgeous” and “sexy”? (Hell, even “beautiful” would be preferable!)

Perhaps he was being overly sensitive, but it was several little things Harry had said during the past week-- meant to be endearing and sweet (and normally would have made him smile)-- that had been grating on his nerves. Now they just left him feeling vaguely emasculated.

But this was the last straw!

His “adoring” boyfriend had rented a movie he insisted was an American classic—and couldn’t seem to stop sniggering over the title: Tootsie. But that wasn’t the worst part! No, Harry was chortling over how it was about a man that dressed in drag to get a job (and the actor wasn’t even attractive and made an even less fortunate looking woman). And beyond the subtle insinuation that the pet-name was feminine in nature, Harry had the gall to tell Draco that he would make a much better, more convincing bint!

That did it!

Everything that had been simmering reached the boiling point at that remark and he snarled as he whipped out his wand. Some quick, angry jabs and swirls found Harry squawking in horror as his clothes were transfigured into the frilliest baby-doll nightie imaginable – in the foulest shade of Drooble’s pink. Draco sneered through the radiating ripples of wild-magic backlash that exploded outward in super-sonic waves from Harry in his shock.

He smirked at the brunet’s frantic pulling and plucking at the sheer fabric that was affixed firmly to his skin. Well, it wouldn’t budge from across his shoulders and chest, but the poufy layers just under the bust were floaty and flowing around his abdomen. The matching panties were well and truly stuck. Draco laughed harshly at Harry’s desperate fingers scrabbling fruitlessly over the waist band and leg holes of the knickers.

Draco admired his handiwork with the fluffy feather trim along the neckline and hemline while the Auror tried every version of ‘Finite’ he could think of; the Healer was chuffed his spells remained stable and caster-specific. He was pleased by how see-through the offending outfit turned out. Everything was visible underneath.

The lingerie looked ludicrous on the man, but that was exactly the point. All those contours of hard muscles looked terribly out of place against the soft cloth; the black body- hair sprinkled between his nipples and spilling from his armpits and groin created an oxymoronic juxtaposition to the femininity of the garment.

It was the perfect retaliation, Draco thought, for all those comments that implied he was somehow less of a man, especially for when Harry had called him prissy last weekend for not wanting to act like an animal outdoors; in his revenge, he’d created a suitable version of an antithesis to a feral, knuckle-dragging cave man.

Harry hesitantly lifted his skirt and surveyed his flaccid bits packed into the diaphanous, mosquito-net like material with dismay. Even though he was covered, he felt extremely exposed. It was mortifying! He pulled the throw blanket up to his chin and shot a betrayed look at his amused lover. “Ha, ha. I get it, OK? I’m sorry I laughed about the movie. You can reverse the spell now.”

“You think this is just about that tripe?” Draco exclaimed incredulously, gesturing to the TV that was still playing the disc, but had been forgotten in light of the recent developments in the Auror’s wardrobe.

Harry blinked owlishly, “It’s not?” It had seemed a pretty straight-forward hexing, to force him into a cross-dressing situation after finding humour in the film’s title and content.

“No,” the blond huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. He sniffed and pointedly looked away from Harry’s clueless, expectant, questioning expression. The silence stretched.

The impatient brunet couldn’t take the suspense anymore when it appeared Draco could hold-out indefinitely on offering an explanation, “Then what? What else is this about?” Still, the blond kept a stony countenance.

“Please, Love! Don’t do the whole ‘if-you-don’t-know-then-I’m-not-going-to-tell-you’ thing! You know I’m rubbish at figuring this stuff out if it doesn’t immediately strike me as obvious.” (Why was it so hard to figure out his boyfriend’s intentions when he could spot it in the criminals he apprehended straight away?!)

Silver eyes flashed with fire and then narrowed when he icily acknowledged Harry’s presence again (it gave him a small measure of satisfaction when he noted that his lover scrunched smaller into the corner of the couch, quailing a little under his frosty glare). Through clenched teeth, Draco growled, “What do you think of me?”

Whatever Harry was expecting, it wasn’t that. “What?”

Draco let out a long-suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose (that was a mannerism reminiscent of Snape, Harry thought, and so was the blond’s next statement), “It’s a simple question, Potter.”

“No, it’s not,” the brunet replied, thinking that any answer he gave was fraught with the very real possibilities of pissing his partner off further. “I love you. You’re smart and beautiful, funny and wicked. You know I adore you, right?”

The Healer was somewhat mollified, but that wasn’t exactly what he meant. “I mean, what do you think of me as a man?”

“Incredibly and unbelievably sexy?” Harry tried, and then accused, “This IS about ‘Tootsie’ and saying you’d make a better looking lady!” At Draco’s flared nostrils and spectacular glower, he defended, “Well, you would! You’re already bloody gorgeous—that guy is a toad! And look at me?” He flung down the blanket he’d been hiding under, gesturing to his body. “I’m hideous…”

Draco couldn’t help the small twitch to his lips; it was true, Harry was so masculine in form—with his well-defined muscles, amply-furred limbs and square jaw (complete with day-old stubble)-- he made a very unattractive woman. (And on a side-note, the fair-haired wizard thought, the vision before him confirmed he REALLY wasn’t into witches!). But still feeling some amount of bile and vindictiveness, he spat “At least I didn’t paint your face up like a Knockturn whore.”

Green eyes rolled as the brunet nodded in agreement. “I didn’t mean anything by it… Just that your features are more delicate and perfectly sculpted,” he hesitantly reached out and ran his forefinger affectionately along that finely arched brow and then in a smooth slide along the aristocratic cheekbone. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say and the blond tensed again, ruining the small truce that seemed to be forming.

“Are you saying that I’m dainty?” the stormy grey eyes flashed again. “Because that’s what it seems like you’ve been hinting at ever since we went camping! I never really thought too much about it before, but you see me as girly, don’t you!” Harry’s stunned silence seemed to incense him more and practically screamed, “Don’t you?!”

“What? No! You’re lithe and supple with your swimmer’s build but definitely all man. And I don’t mind that you dislike getting dirty-- that doesn’t make you a female! It just shows you are cultured and refined,” then added in a more forlorn voice, “while I’m an awkward oaf… sometimes I don’t know why you’re even with me. I’m not up to your standards-- only a bumbling brute-- uncouth, no manners…”

“But that doesn’t make you an animal, just a real red-blooded male,” Draco defended. “I, on the other hand, was raised to be a total ponce!”

“You can’t help what they forced you believe, to deny your physicality so much… and having etiquette and elegance isn’t bad. Maybe the extremes to which your parents took it were a bit much, but the poise in which you carry yourself is one of the things I love about you.”

“But you said it yourself, I cook and brew, and call in the help to clean the house,” the Pure Blood whined.

“Oh crap! I avoid it because I hate it! I cooked and cleaned my whole childhood—was I a girl then?” Draco remained mute. “As for brewing, are you saying that Snape, the dour Death-Eater spy and snarky professor, was somehow feminine just because he was a Potion Master?! The man looked atrocious when Neville’s ‘Riddikulus’ made his image appear in his grandmother’s clothes in third year!” This earned him a little more of a smile and a slight negating head-shake from the disgruntled blond.

Heartened, Harry went on. “A wise man once told me: ‘Proper behaviour of a gentleman does not negate masculinity.’” The brunet noted with gratification, the tense and unhappy energy wafting and drifting away from his lover, freeing him from its clutches. “And it’s not like you’re an exclusive, submissive bottom, either, Sweetness—we’re quite even on that score. I cherish the times you take me. Believe me, there’s nothing more manly than feeling your big hard cock up my ass, pounding me into oblivion!”

Draco frowned, but was beginning to feel better. “But ever since the Locket…”

“You listen here!” Harry’s tone was forceful, jabbing a purposeful finger on the Healer’s chest (and somehow managed to look menacing despite his decidedly un-intimidating attire), “That piece of shit preys on your insecurities and will convince you that your most self-defeating thoughts about yourself are true! It’s all bullshit, OK?” Draco was almost scared at how intensely and ferociously Harry was lecturing. “You got that?!” The Healer made a meek ‘meep’ noise of acquiescence.

“Want to know what overwhelms me when I get near that spot?” Draco looked fearful but nodded in inquisitive trepidation. “It tells me I’m a worthless FREAK undeserving of love or basic human consideration-- and that anyone close to me is better off not knowing me at all. It makes me believe I should shun the people I love so I can keep them safe.”

Draco’s eyes were wide and filled with emotion as he whispered, “Like Dementors and Boggarts…”

“More or less—definitely in the same category as far as ‘crippling your soul’ and ‘stripping you of the will to live’...” Harry lapsed into silence and then regained his train of thought. “You are a consummate gentleman and that’s part of what makes you so wonderful. If you were truly girly, you wouldn’t have those three lovely bits between your legs that I am completely enamored of—and would have two round bouncy things that I have absolutely no interest in,” he waggled his eyebrows as he mimed cupping and jiggling boobs over the outrageous nightgown he was wearing.

Then Harry became serious once again:

“I’m pants at putting feelings into words, but I was so proud of you last weekend for keeping an open mind about the camping trip! You did exceptionally well-- I know I was pushing you and you would resist, but you really stepped up and allowed yourself to expand your horizons to the point you could enjoy parts of it. Then you told me how deeply ingrained your childhood training and trauma was and I was blown away! And when you mentioned you wouldn’t mind camping out again, my heart just about burst.”

Harry’s voice turned to a low rumble, “You are brilliant, you know…”

Draco smiled at his lover fondly and murmured, “For someone who claims they can’t articulate their mind, you just did an exquisite job of it…”

Harry snorted, smiling back. “I’m sorry if you thought I was being mean with any off-hand comments and made it seem like I was attacking your manliness. We’ve always teased each other about our differences. I’ll try to be more sensitive in the future—I didn’t know you were so bothered by it, I just thought it was like when you scold me for talking with my mouth full or that time last summer I put on a brown belt with black shoes.”

“Yes, well, someone has to help your absolutely hopeless fashion sense,” he replied, grinning a bit wider and completely appeased with the brunet’s contrition and promises—he really had been being an overly-tetchy twat. “Although, I don’t think I did you any favours with your current wardrobe.”

“Speaking of which… now that I’ve learned my lesson, do you think you could see fit to cancel the spell?” Harry pulled at the foofy fabric surrounding him, “I feel ridiculous.”

“Ah, about that,” Draco started, feeling a bit cruel after how sweet Harry had just treated him, “Erm…” he tugged on his earlobe in a nervous tic, “I, uh, may have—in the heat of temper-- interwoven an added stipulation under the Permanent Sticking charm…”

“And that is--?” Harry growled, wary now and forming a pretty good idea as to what that might be. His hunch wasn’t wrong.

At least the Healer had the decency to look slightly apologetic when he informed him, “It won’t come off until you sully it.”

_)*(_

Harry sighed, knowing better than to protest… too much.

He’d been practically asking for it by laughing about the movie. And he’d really pushed Draco’s limits with the outdoor stunt. Not that he’d known at the time it was as seriously ingrained in his psyche and steeped in childhood trauma (much like his own strong reactions to soiling cloth of any kind) but, he’d endure this humiliation to assuage his guilt at inadvertently making his boyfriend feel bad.

He settled for some mild pouting.

They agreed they didn’t want to continue with the movie or rewind it to where they’d stopped paying attention, so the couple ended up watching some Monty Python re-runs on the BBC instead (not that it got them away from the subject of men in drag, but it was comforting in its familiarity).

Draco summoned his special box of candy and held the lid open towards a gaping Harry, “Sharing your secret stash with me? Now I know you’re sorry for dressing me up like some poofy flaming queen!”

The blond just shrugged, unwilling to admit aloud the reason for his peace-offering, “It’ll still be hot when you have to poop in those pretty little pink panties though…”

Harry made a disbelieving ‘tch’ sound in his throat as he selected a piece of fudge.

He didn’t notice the self-satisfied smirk from Draco; the blond knew Harry would choose the chocolate. The brunet adored cocoa-confections of all kinds, ever since his first taste of it in frog form at eleven years of age. Draco hadn’t believed Harry when he’d told him that ages ago, but after he learned about his lover’s bleak childhood, he did (and it made more sense as to why he kept a tatty ‘C-F’ card of Dumbledore in his pouch of important keepsakes).

“Do the sweets make my Baby feel better?” Draco cooed, laying it on pretty thick as his lover took another piece of candy. The Auror hummed his assent around the sugar melting on his tongue. “Look at you-- you’re like a good little wifey, eating bon-bons and watching the tele in her fetching frilly frock,” he couldn’t help but torment him, just a little.

Harry grumbled half-heartedly, still determined to let Draco have his bit of fun; if it made his boyfriend feel like he was reclaiming his manhood, he’d withstand his little digs with good humour. The cross-dressed man had just decided he wouldn’t fret over his predicament until he really had to, (and that wouldn’t be until tomorrow morning) when he was surprised by an unexpected and obviously audible fart that escaped his behind without his consent.

Draco chuckled, “Well, that wasn’t very lady-like.”

“Sorry,” the Auror mumbled, a bit embarrassed at his loss of control over his sphincter, “I don’t know where that came from.” And soon, he felt the need again.

Odd, they hadn’t had any of the foods for dinner that usually gave him gas… It seemed as soon as he relieved the pressure in his innards there was another seconds later. And the worst part of it was, no matter how he loosened his anus or angled his pelvis, they were the loudest farts he’d ever let rip!

Draco was actually giggling after the third time, “Very un-ladylike!”

“Here’s what I have to say about that!” Harry declared in rebuttal, lifting the edge of the throw blanket and a cheek, and forced a trumpeting rattle in Draco’s general direction.

Draco’s eyelids drooped in heavy hoods when he caught the sexy, enticing view of his lover’s crack through the sheer knickers—dark with hair and the backs of his balls peeking out from below. “Nice view, Harriet!” The brunet ‘humphed’ and hid under the quilt again. The Healer’s gaze turned molten and frisky, “Look what you did to me,” starting to pull down the waistband of his pajama pants.

“Yeah, yeah, my humiliation and ass noises gave you a big ol’ bo—“ Harry’s sarcastic rant was abruptly cut short when Draco uncovered his groin; he was sporting a large boner as expected-- but it was encased in a baby-blue lace string bikini! “What the--?”

Draco laughed at Harry’s thick expression. “Did you mean to cast a sort of reflection spell when your wild magic flared?” The brunet just shook his head ‘no’, still trying to wrap his brain around what must have happened; well, that and the fact that Draco’s arousal straining against the confines of panties caused his own member to twitch in interest. He didn’t miss those alabaster digits tracing the elastic edges that were clearly immobile.

(Interesting… apparently we’re in the same boat, the green-eyed man concluded.)

“What is it with you that you like to see me in pale blue undies?” The blond’s blatant amusement with all this had the brunet bewitched. Harry’s response was another uncontrollable burp out his butt-hole and some unintelligible mutter about a “red G-string”.

When the gas remained at an unnatural level of quantity and frequency (but thankfully not too smelly), he grew suspicious, “Where did you get this candy?”

“The chocolate?” Draco asked in that horrible tone he used— smacking of the farce of innocence-- when he was perpetrating a prank. “It’s ‘Flatulence Fudge’, courtesy of your one-eared investment partner. My vanilla walnut? Special order from Paris...”

Mother-fucker! Harry vowed to have-- yet another-- talk with George about who he sold his products to!

“AAAArrrrrgh!” Harry roared as he grabbed the smirking blond around the shoulders and shoved his head under the blanket on his lap just as he felt another bubble charging through his rectum. Draco was squealing with limbs flailing as the resounding ‘braaap’ of his vibrating ring signaled that he’d successfully “hot-boxed” his lover with this fabricated flatus.

He felt some measure of smug satisfaction as the blond emerged, extricating himself from beneath the toxic tent with a red face and his hair ruffled in disarray. With more awe than venom, Harry hissed, “You sneaky snake!”

Silver eyes narrowed at him. “Fart fairy!” Draco shot back.

“Ass Goblin!”

“Colon Troll!”

“Turd Burglar!”

“Butt Boggart!”

“C’mon, Love,” Harry sighed in resignation, ending his and his lover’s last volley of lame euphemisms with a chaste kiss, “let’s stop this and just go to bed.” He clicked off the remote and headed up the stairs. He heard Draco murmur, “Yeah, Baby,” while feeling the heat of his stare prickle the hairs on the backs of his inner thighs as his boyfriend climbed, a few steps behind him.

“You better hope this wears off soon,” he threw over his shoulder, purposefully and an unashamedly breaking wind again (right in Draco’s air-space and nose-range!), “or you’ll be suffocating under the covers in no time…”

Draco just snickered and followed him into their four-poster.

“I hope you realize that this means you won’t be getting any tonight, now that you effectively put me in a chastity belt…” Harry mumbled sleepily as they pulled the duvet up over themselves.

“Oh,” the blond sighed in longing, “It’ll be worth it…” and smooched his lover’s spaghetti-strapped shoulder before he drifted off.

_)*(_

Slumber was not all that comfortable in his stupid, girly get-up but the breakfast in bed Draco brought him was very pleasant (especially since the blond was lounging on the pillows next to him wearing nothing but those intriguing lace knickers that left nothing to the imagination). He really was beautiful-- from his outward appearance to the way he carried himself—it didn’t matter what he did or didn’t have on, he was simply gorgeous in every way.

After his second cup of coffee, Harry felt the effects of the caffeine start to do their job as his bowels shifted lower. The moment was closing in on him. He’d thought he had the guts for This, but his clamped-shut hole and lower intestines were curled in on themselves; he couldn’t help but squirm in discomfort. Diapers (since that was their function in life) or underpants were one thing, but this material was too fine and feminine to befoul.

He heard Draco laugh as he flopped onto his stomach and burrowed his flushed into his pillow. Grimacing through his boyfriend’s petting of the raised goose-bumps on his forearms as another cramp gripped him, he mumbled, “Shut up…” Then, he whined pitifully, “Are you sure I have to do That?”

The blond wasn’t certain he couldn’t counter the transfiguration and sticking charms, but he wasn’t about to let this excellent shituation pass him by; he’d been looking forward to seeing those silky skivvies soiled, having a ring-side seat-- and being able to watch it happen through the cloth! For some reason that had him so fired up he was regretting he couldn’t divest himself of his own lacey-prison, if only for the immediate gratification of feeling the skin on skin of his own hand on his aching prick.

“Yes,” the horny Healer breathed, trying to keep his heaving lungs light and even, “the spell stands.”

“I don’t know… I don’t think I can,” Harry confessed. He briefly wondered if his boyfriend had also spiked his drinks with WWW “U-No-Poo” but figured that would be counterproductive to the blond’s aim; no, he convinced himself, it was just his own hang-ups at work here.

Suddenly, Draco felt a surge of power; for once it was Harry that was dithering and dawdling, cowering in indecision! He could do this! He traced a tantalizing finger down the length of Harry’s spine, making the other man shiver. He put on his best ‘condescension with affection’ tone and asked in a low drawl, exhaling every syllable in his lover’s ear, “Shall I show you how it’s done, then?”

The brunet’s hanging jaw and wide dilated eyes were priceless! (So was the drool that trickled from the corner of his pouty lips and soaked into the pillowcase)

That gave Draco the confidence to crawl over Harry’s body (purposefully dragging his heavy erection over his bum, eliciting another full-bodied shudder). With a confident stride and swagger, he marched to the dressing table across the room by his boyfriend’s side of the bed. Bracing his hands on the edge of the table and placing his feet a shoulder’s-width apart, he shot a playful wink towards Harry’s reflection in the mirror atop it.

He felt bold and brash, unconquerable and courageous! For once he wasn’t going to over-think things or worry about his reputation to the outside world and just act. This was him and Harry. And he had something to prove-- he could grab this situation by the balls and bravely face it like a man! For once in his life, he was going to just… do it!

That realization took hold in his mind as he prepared to push, intent on shitting himself in the most spectacular way imaginable—he’d release his load in a blaze of glory!

And then he bore down with all his might.

Harry felt some precum leak out his impossibly hard penis. He stopped breathing when a juicy, burbling sputtering reached his ears-- and the sight from between those pale globes and delectable sac hanging underneath (bent over just a couple meters away), flexed further and in an instant, filled the seat of the underwear with a mushy sludge. Draco thrashed subtly side-to-side; his grip was white-knuckled on the wooden surface as he forced the last fecal matter out, rising and teetering on tip-toe amidst several very wet-sounding farts.

Harry watched in awe (and an incredible libidinous need of epic proportions) as the excreted waste saturated and seeped through the portions of more open mesh like some obscene garlic press, the tighter weave of the delicately embroidered flowers barely holding back the mess. He ground his erection into the mattress uncontrollably.

It was over too soon, (as Draco tended to be naturally on the looser side of the stool spectrum, while Harry himself leaned toward the more solid, bordering on the constipation side of the range). The moment the last flake and smudge was expelled from his lover’s ass, the whole mess and ruined knickers vanished. All that was left was radiantly clean alabaster skin.

Draco whirled around, his eyes gleaming in pride and triumph.

He left quickly, entering the en suite loo and Harry groaned in frustration as he heard the sound of urine hitting the toilet water; his bladder was full to bursting too, having not been able to piss since early last evening. The blond re-emerged with the manic grin of personal victory still plastered to his face. His three quarters-full erection bobbed with each step and filled its final fraction when he brushed it across Harry’s cheek and mouth.

The brunet instinctively went to suckle it, but the Healer pulled his pelvis away, swiveling it so he smacked his turgid member against Harry’s jaw before he leaned down and purred, “I believe it’s your turn, Baby.”

Harry groaned again. Sure, he wanted out of his garish garment, but could he really, knowingly and willingly, defecate as brazenly as Draco had?

He was still reeling from his lover’s audacious daring and the lust from witnessing such a display that churned in his veins (and threatened to consume him). His bladder and rectum were full, as was his prick, pulsing with blood. His rutting against the sheets wasn’t enough, and if he was to get any sort of satisfaction for his aching arousal, he’d first have to go poo in the panties.

He cringed when he felt the mattress dip and Draco spread his knees, kneeling between his legs. His buns involuntarily clenched as he felt his lover’s hands massage his thighs and then lift his skirt to the small of his back. “Ah, ah,” came the admonishment along with the strong palms lovingly prizing open his crack through the material, the thumbs prying into his most private area. The small ‘poot’ sound that slipped out his gaping hole as it was pulled apart earned him a chuckle from the blond.

With his wrinkled ring winking, convulsively opening and closing, he felt the sensual sensation of his firm feces slide forward and plug his pucker. Resolutely, he determined there was nothing to be gained by waiting any longer—it would be happening sooner or later (and his weeping cock agreed whole-heartedly that it was high time to free it from the confines of the sheer fabric and get some proper friction).

And if Draco could do it, so could he!

The weight of the warm, tacky clay-like log pressing on his prostate was giving him a profound urge to push. Several millimeters of the excrement popped forth before he could think too much about it, but the mass was stopped as it met with the resistance of the tight textile barrier; the rounded-end of his bodily refuse lay nestled between his gluteus maximus muscles (and the now somewhat manky material).

It felt incredible, to have the thrill of horror about spilling his shit, but even more so that his entrance/exit was being stretched by the girth of a perfectly sized rod! He heard Draco’s breath hitch and stutter in his excitement so many times in rapid succession that he feared his lover may hyperventilate.

And vaguely, through his own animalistic guttural grunts, he noted that he was not accosted by any rancid smell (and he hadn’t been able to detect any unpleasant whiff while Draco took his turn either—so he concluded the intelligent Healer had issued the ‘Rhinal Anasenthsia’ at some point earlier when he’d been too distracted to notice).

He was grateful for that. He could reconcile his raunchy act being watched-- but he couldn’t deal with being smelt as well.

Though as much as he’d now resolved to expunge the effluvium of his intestines, it appeared it wouldn’t budge! It was stuck! And worse, as he bore down with his sphincter wide open, it actually got partially pressed back in by the snug panties when he paused to take a rest.

He felt Draco finger the bulbous head of his “butt-baby” and heard more heavy breathing above him. The roving hand cupped over his poopy protrusion, the edges resting hotly-- and a bit sweaty-- on his bottom. He winced when he realized his boyfriend was touching his waste (albeit through the obstruction of the undies—although the thin cloth didn’t afford much protection).

“Oh fuck, Harry!” the heartfelt (or more aptly described, ‘cock-felt’) moan erupted a new batch of goose-bumps over his skin; the palm was removed and resumed massaging his buttocks in tandem with the other hand. “You have to push! Please...” the blond whinged in a tone of abject longing and gave an impatient pat to his rump. “Please!” the lustful pleading spurred on his resolve.

“I’m trying, Unnnghh!” Harry attempted contorting his abdominals again, the force leaking a squirt of pee out his confused urethra-- and indeed, a bit more crap came out. He had to wriggle his hips in odd angles, especially to the right (back curved and then arched) and his ears were inundated by the ungraceful gulping from his voyeuristic lover.

(He could only imagine what his hind-end looked like at that moment-- writhing and humping sheets and thin air—as he tried to expel his excrement.)

Accompanying the focus on his back door, his strained efforts caused his penis to trickle more urine, dampening his belly and the sheets under him. It was wrong and horrible to be wetting the bed, but it didn’t matter-- Not when he was rewarded by the slick slip of his shit first dropping down (and laying a wonderful, icky heat and weight on the backs of his balls) and then a squidgy squish up the cleft of his buttocks!

Oh God, OH GOD! He was past the point of no return! After the initial hurdle of the hard-tipped turd breaching his butt-hole, it was all coming out in a rush and he was in Nirvana! He never wanted to end, but yet he did since it would mean his over-due tumescence would be free to blast off!

Distantly, he heard a wheezing keening and couldn’t be too arsed to care that it was coming from him in his ultimate “poophoria”; all he knew was that he’d never felt more brilliant and would come with only a brief touch to his yearning pole!

He sobbed in relief when he felt the soft feathers along his chest vanish and the heavily loaded underpants disappeared. He had a split second to mourn the loss of the sticky mess, realizing he wouldn’t have minded enjoying the sensation a bit longer but now that he could get some much-needed attention to his erection, he wasted no time and tucked his knees underneath him. “Draco… please,” he whined, presenting his ass to his lover, “Fuck me! Fuck me NOW!”

The blond hadn’t needed telling twice, he was already lubed up and ready to shove his swollen shaft into the pliant body below him the second it was bared (but the begging was some very sweet icing on the cake). The damp slide was sublime; the still-contracting muscles caressed his cock as it was swallowed.

Harry tensed and then screamed when Draco reached around and milked the seed from his sac. The Healer was dragged down as his lover collapsed on his stomach mewling in ecstatic after-shocks of pure pleasure (with the total relaxation of climax causing the brunet’s bladder to empty completely); the tight, twitching heat surrounding the blond’s member pulled at him and then sensually sucked the sperm out of his scrotum.

_)*(_

After the bed linens were sorted out, cleared of all raunchy evidence, the couple retreated to the bathroom. Since Harry couldn’t stand—his orgasm effectively acting like a well-placed ‘jelly-legs’ jinx—Draco lay his boneless form in the bottom of the tub and ran the shower to rinse over them awhile before he put in the stopper to fill the bath (he purposefully had forgone adding any fragrant soaps and oils-- he was still riding on the adrenaline of reasserting his manhood and felt soaking in bubbles would be a step backward).

Lazing in the hot water and curled up in his incredible partner’s arms, Harry murmured, “That was so amazing, Toots…”

“That is was, Love,” Draco sighed and gave a light laugh. “Transparent textiles are definitely the way to go! It wouldn’t even have to be lady’s under-things, just regular underpants—since messing them feels so good—but rendering them invisible with charms would do the trick…” His sated penis gave a little flop at the thought of the next time they played like That.

Harry smiled, “Yeah, I could do without the frills and lace… but being able to watch and see you poop was so damn sexy!” (It was his turn to feel a renewed twinge of desire at the memory)

He rubbed an affectionate cheek on Draco’s pebbled nipple. “You really proved your mettle and masculinity by takinge He aH `H charge like that. I can never resist when you get all tough and demanding… Hell, I can never deny you anything you wish any time! I love you any which way you are… you’re like a perfect mix of personality…”

Draco couldn’t get over how content and whole he felt because of Harry. “We balance each other out quite well, don’t you agree?” he asked quietly and thoughtfully, his heart swelling with emotion at his lover’s fervent nod against his chest.

Right at that moment, all the fantasies he’d entertained over the years about asking the brunet to officially bond with him turned to a solid decision to make that dream a reality. He would be shopping for suitable rings at his earliest convenience; there was no rush of course, but once he’d made up his mind, he didn’t see the sense in waiting any longer.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Harry mumbled sleepily, feeling completely safe and secure, like he was floating in a warm welcoming womb.

Draco, equally drowsy, replied, “Only just how much I love you and sharing my life with you…” He relished the weak squeeze Harry gave him with the last of his energy. “Come on, Baby, let’s get out so we don’t prune up. We’ll take a nice nap before we have to get ready to go to the Burrow for Hermione’s big, second-pregnancy-announcement and celebration, yes?”

Harry allowed himself to be led back to the (thankfully now clean) bed. They both fell asleep entwined in each other’s limbs with a deep sense of connection and unconditional love in their relationship; they both dreamt of being wrapped up in the comforting concepts of togetherness, commitment and family.

)*(

Author’s Note:

Hope you liked that one…

For some reason—probably because I’ve seen the movie one meeellion times-- I think I was influenced in the description of Harry’s apparel by the fembots in the first Austin Powers movie (during the “I touch myself”/cross-mojinations dance scene). Although our favourite wizard is sans the completely fluffy breast cups with machine-gun jumblies… he only has feathers along the neck and hemline (with nipples nicely visible) and his knickers are see-through (for enhanced viewing pleasure! ;).

Also, I want it on the record that I had this story in the works long before I saw the trailer for Deathly Hallows part 1, in which they show Harry in a bra when Fleur Polyjuices into his form. Woo-hoo! Can’t wait for opening night! Got my tix for midnight weeks ago!

If you’re reading this far, I hope that means you’ll come back for the next go! ;P
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