Several weeks had passed by since the arrival of the present, and Harry was
finally eating well on Privet Drive. He still took the food that his aunt
and uncle gave him (and usually threw it in the backyard or in the
garbage), while thrusting his hands into the bag to get something new and
delicious. He'd never been disappointed once. Harry often thought how he
wished he knew who sent it, and spent many hours looking at the note,
trying it for invisible ink or some other enchantment. He'd also noticed a
strange side effect of the enchanted food (well, he wasn't entirely sure it
was the cause). Harry was always extremely horny, and didn't really know
why.
On a particularly uneventful day, Harry was trying to catch a nap in between two jobs. He was awakened shortly after by furious banging on his door. Sleepily, Harry got up and stumbled towards the door, but was immediately aware that something very embarrassing had happened again-he'd had what Muggles called a "wet dream." His pants were completely wet and he was still sporting quite a boner. But the knocking did not desist so Harry was forced to open the door a crack and peer around it, his pants safely out of view. It was his aunt.
"Mr. Collard called and said he would not be needing you this afternoon after all, its raining and there's no sense heaving your clumsy self all over a muddy yard. They do want you to come back first thing tomorrow morning, boy, and see that you do!" Petunia gave him a hard look, as if he was already plotting to ditch. She turned away muttering to herself about how worthless Harry was and seeming thoroughly put-out that he would be around the house tonight.
After her footsteps could no longer be heard, Harry slipped down the hall and into Dudley's bathroom (he was forced to use the small downstairs bathroom when Dudley was in town). He slipped out of his clothes, looked into the mirror, and was completely surprised by who he saw. The young man peering back at Harry was tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and a lithe frame. If not for the telltale scar on the boy's forehead, Harry never would have known he was looking at his own reflection in the mirror. My, but he had changed! The hard labor under the sun had left Harry bronzed and very muscular, his chest and abs now well-defined, his arms and legs strong and sinewy. He was at least three inches taller than he remembered. And any flab that he might have had before the summer had certainly melted away, leaving a body he hardly recognized as his own.
As Harry surveyed his naked body, he was quickly reminded why he had come in here as his eyes traveled downwards. Blushing, Harry turned on the shower and stepped in, the hot water washing his shame away. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the heat flowing down his body, between muscles, as he soaped himself all over. But touching his body, even innocently, had the opposite effect he'd hoped the shower would have. 'God, why am I feeling so horny,' Harry thought as he looked down as his rock-hard cock. Not being able to help himself, he began running his hands up and down his chest and across his hard nipples, pinching them slightly and enjoying the mixture of pain and pleasure it brought. Unable to keep his hands off his cock any longer, he grabbed it and began stroking it firmly. Softly moaning, Harry's body washed with pleasure-he couldn't remember masturbation ever feeling this great before. He pulled back the shower curtain slightly to get another view of his body, and watched his reflection as he quickly brought himself to orgasm; head tilted back, his mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. As the intensity ebbed away, Harry leaned back into the shower and closed his eyes as a feeling of supreme relaxation passed over him.
Just then, more furious banging on the door. "Harry! Harry!" shouted Aunt Petunia's voice through the door, "Get out of there and stop using up all the hot water you worthless boy!"
'Damn it!" Harry thought, 'She even has to ruin this.'
"Ok Aunt Petunia, I'm getting out right now." Harry turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. Petunia seemed satisfied and stomped back downstairs to see if she'd missed anything interesting she could have spied her neighbors doing. Harry quickly dried off, and towel-clad slipped back into his bedroom. Opening his closet he saw a pitiful array of Dudley's old clothes, many, many sizes too big and too short. He picked out a pair of grey sweatpants (stretchy, so fit better than any other pants from Dudley), and a cavernous tee-shirt. He was looking forward to just relaxing tonight, he hadn't got a night to himself since he came back from school.
"Harry, Harry! Get down here, boy!" Aunt Petunia's voiced screeched up from downstairs. Harry inwardly groaned. He should have known better than to suppose that he might have even one idle moment in this household. Aunt Petunia screamed up to him again, and he wearily made his way downstairs. She looked cross, even crosser than usual.
"Harry," she began impatiently,"your uncle and I have a very, very important dinner guest tonight. Your uncle is of course friends with many influential people, and tonight we are having the owner of London Bank and his son as our guests. Now normally we would just lock you in your room and be done with you." She gave him a piercing look. "But they are apparently looking for a full-time gardener for the entire summer."
Harry both panicked and rejoiced. So, the Dursleys thought they could just hire him out, kick him out of the only home he's known, and be rid of him! But on the other hand, he wouldn't have to put up with the humiliating treatment from the Dursleys. But perhaps these people weren't any better; they were, after all, friends with his uncle. Harry was torn, it was looking more and more like a lose-lose situation. Aunt Petunia seemed to sense his turmoil, and her voice became commanding and shrill.
"Now we'll have no trouble from you, boy! Remember who took you in when no one else would have you! If you mess this up, and you know what I mean, your uncle and I could make your life here very difficult." Harry couldn't imagine how they could make it any more unpleasant, but he really didn't like her tone. Whoever this person was, their friendship obviously meant the world to the Dursleys. He had choice but to play along.
"Now," Petunia sighed, satisfied at Harry's defeat, "go upstairs and change into something presentable. Wear that nice suit that your uncle and I bought you for Great Aunt Betty's funeral. The guests will be here in 30 minutes." She pointed back upstairs, and glared at Harry until he sighed, shrugged, and turned around to go back upstairs.
On a particularly uneventful day, Harry was trying to catch a nap in between two jobs. He was awakened shortly after by furious banging on his door. Sleepily, Harry got up and stumbled towards the door, but was immediately aware that something very embarrassing had happened again-he'd had what Muggles called a "wet dream." His pants were completely wet and he was still sporting quite a boner. But the knocking did not desist so Harry was forced to open the door a crack and peer around it, his pants safely out of view. It was his aunt.
"Mr. Collard called and said he would not be needing you this afternoon after all, its raining and there's no sense heaving your clumsy self all over a muddy yard. They do want you to come back first thing tomorrow morning, boy, and see that you do!" Petunia gave him a hard look, as if he was already plotting to ditch. She turned away muttering to herself about how worthless Harry was and seeming thoroughly put-out that he would be around the house tonight.
After her footsteps could no longer be heard, Harry slipped down the hall and into Dudley's bathroom (he was forced to use the small downstairs bathroom when Dudley was in town). He slipped out of his clothes, looked into the mirror, and was completely surprised by who he saw. The young man peering back at Harry was tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and a lithe frame. If not for the telltale scar on the boy's forehead, Harry never would have known he was looking at his own reflection in the mirror. My, but he had changed! The hard labor under the sun had left Harry bronzed and very muscular, his chest and abs now well-defined, his arms and legs strong and sinewy. He was at least three inches taller than he remembered. And any flab that he might have had before the summer had certainly melted away, leaving a body he hardly recognized as his own.
As Harry surveyed his naked body, he was quickly reminded why he had come in here as his eyes traveled downwards. Blushing, Harry turned on the shower and stepped in, the hot water washing his shame away. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the heat flowing down his body, between muscles, as he soaped himself all over. But touching his body, even innocently, had the opposite effect he'd hoped the shower would have. 'God, why am I feeling so horny,' Harry thought as he looked down as his rock-hard cock. Not being able to help himself, he began running his hands up and down his chest and across his hard nipples, pinching them slightly and enjoying the mixture of pain and pleasure it brought. Unable to keep his hands off his cock any longer, he grabbed it and began stroking it firmly. Softly moaning, Harry's body washed with pleasure-he couldn't remember masturbation ever feeling this great before. He pulled back the shower curtain slightly to get another view of his body, and watched his reflection as he quickly brought himself to orgasm; head tilted back, his mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. As the intensity ebbed away, Harry leaned back into the shower and closed his eyes as a feeling of supreme relaxation passed over him.
Just then, more furious banging on the door. "Harry! Harry!" shouted Aunt Petunia's voice through the door, "Get out of there and stop using up all the hot water you worthless boy!"
'Damn it!" Harry thought, 'She even has to ruin this.'
"Ok Aunt Petunia, I'm getting out right now." Harry turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. Petunia seemed satisfied and stomped back downstairs to see if she'd missed anything interesting she could have spied her neighbors doing. Harry quickly dried off, and towel-clad slipped back into his bedroom. Opening his closet he saw a pitiful array of Dudley's old clothes, many, many sizes too big and too short. He picked out a pair of grey sweatpants (stretchy, so fit better than any other pants from Dudley), and a cavernous tee-shirt. He was looking forward to just relaxing tonight, he hadn't got a night to himself since he came back from school.
"Harry, Harry! Get down here, boy!" Aunt Petunia's voiced screeched up from downstairs. Harry inwardly groaned. He should have known better than to suppose that he might have even one idle moment in this household. Aunt Petunia screamed up to him again, and he wearily made his way downstairs. She looked cross, even crosser than usual.
"Harry," she began impatiently,"your uncle and I have a very, very important dinner guest tonight. Your uncle is of course friends with many influential people, and tonight we are having the owner of London Bank and his son as our guests. Now normally we would just lock you in your room and be done with you." She gave him a piercing look. "But they are apparently looking for a full-time gardener for the entire summer."
Harry both panicked and rejoiced. So, the Dursleys thought they could just hire him out, kick him out of the only home he's known, and be rid of him! But on the other hand, he wouldn't have to put up with the humiliating treatment from the Dursleys. But perhaps these people weren't any better; they were, after all, friends with his uncle. Harry was torn, it was looking more and more like a lose-lose situation. Aunt Petunia seemed to sense his turmoil, and her voice became commanding and shrill.
"Now we'll have no trouble from you, boy! Remember who took you in when no one else would have you! If you mess this up, and you know what I mean, your uncle and I could make your life here very difficult." Harry couldn't imagine how they could make it any more unpleasant, but he really didn't like her tone. Whoever this person was, their friendship obviously meant the world to the Dursleys. He had choice but to play along.
"Now," Petunia sighed, satisfied at Harry's defeat, "go upstairs and change into something presentable. Wear that nice suit that your uncle and I bought you for Great Aunt Betty's funeral. The guests will be here in 30 minutes." She pointed back upstairs, and glared at Harry until he sighed, shrugged, and turned around to go back upstairs.