Warning: Graphic description of sexual assault near the end of this chapter.
Gellert lay on his back, watching the branches sway and leaves rustle in the sunlit canopy high above him. The forest was quiet apart from the gently sighing wind and the distant calls of birds. The wine he'd drunk, the soft forest floor beneath him and the warm sunlight all combined to make him feel relaxed and tranquil.
With his right hand, he gently stroked his cock, keeping it hard. Albus had been gone for five minutes now, and Gellert was in danger of going limp if he didn't keep his hand busy. Gods, Albus was such a cock-tease, but he didn't mean to be, so Gellert wouldn't hold it against him. Albus didn't know shit when it came to sex. Hah, there had been such a confused, hurt look in Albus' eyes just before he'd scurried away, looking like a little puppy that had been kicked by a trusted master. There had been fear in his wide eyes, too, and Gellert felt his cock pulsing, growing harder at the memory.
With Albus gone, Gellert would have to pleasure himself. He closed his eyes and mentally sorted through the catalogue of girls he kept stored in his head, casting around for a suitable focus. Elke? No, he couldn't be aroused by a girl after just recently fucking her. It was boring. Especially with Elke, whom he'd already fucked plenty of times back in Durmstrang.
The baker's wife? Hell no, not that saggy old bitch! He'd only done her because he'd been feeling really horny (he hadn't gotten any action for a long period before that), and every once in a while he liked to fuck a girl who was old or ugly or deformed or whatever, just for that little extra something to make the sex exciting and dirty. But afterwards, they just made him feel sick.
What about that girl from the post office? Yes, she'd been good, and he'd only done her once. What was her name? Charlene? Or maybe Shannon? Sharon? Yes, that was it, Sharon. Not that it mattered. Some typical stupid English name for a stupid, slutty English girl. She'd been a virgin, too, and she'd cried when he'd fucked her (his favourite kind of sex).
From his memory, he recreated the sight of Sharon's naked body. He remembered how she'd shivered and wrapped her arms around herself as he'd stripped her, exposing her pale skin dotted with goose bumps, her small breasts with pert nipples, her pink virgin cunt half-hidden by her wispy brown pubes. He loved a girl who was a virgin, all tight and innocent and undespoiled, like a new gift-wrapped present just waiting for him to get in there and tear it open, a newly-opened flower unplucked by anyone. As a bonus, sex was usually painful for girls the first time, and it made Gellert excited to know he was inflicting pain.
He'd pushed Sharon onto the bed and run his hands and his tongue over her entire body, starting with her face and eventually finishing with the pink folds of her pussy. He'd stuck his fingers up her cunt, feeling her from the inside, before lowering his head to eat her, tasting the sweet juices that flowed inside her…
Frustrated, Gellert opened his eyes and frowned. As he replayed the memories of Sharon in his mind, he slid his hand up and down his cock in vigorous, rhythmic strokes, but it wasn't enough to keep him aroused. He just couldn't wank out here in the middle of nowhere, with no pictures, no toys, no fucking people, nothing to keep him interested. All he had were some memories. He wanted a real, flesh-and-blood girl. Hell, he wasn't too fussy, he just wanted something warm, human and preferably alive to stick his cock into for a few minutes.
Briefly he considered going after Albus and forcing him into sex, but almost instantly he dismissed the idea. He couldn't risk upsetting Albus, not now, not after all the effort he'd invested in befriending him.
He could conjure some pornographic pictures from his room, but somehow he didn't feel like it. He could try one of the girls in the village, but that would mean getting up and Apparating from this spot, and he couldn't be bothered. It was so nice and warm here. He felt relaxed and drowsy. How much wine had he drunk, exactly? Not enough. The bottle had still had some wine left in it.
It looked like it was just going to be him and his old friend, his hand. Good old hand. It had gotten him through some hard times, with the emphasis on the word hard.
"Dear old hand," Gellert said. "I never told you how much I appreciate you." In many ways, his hand was better than a woman. He didn't have to buy his hand flowers and tell it that he loved it. He didn't have to listen to his hand talk about its feelings, or tell it how beautiful it looked in a new pair of gloves. When he wanted sex, his hand would never complain that it had a headache. His hand wouldn't be cross with him if he forgot their anniversary. His hand didn't mind him fooling around with his other hand. It never nagged him, or whined that he wasn't paying attention to it or spending enough time with it.
But it wasn't enough to get him off. Not this time.
"I'm sorry," Gellert said to his hand. "It's not you, it's me. I have changed. Don't look at me like that. We can still be friends. I still need you to open doors for me and hold my wand and so on."
Gellert snickered. If anyone was watching him, they would think he was mad. Sometimes he did worry about himself, but never for very long. It didn't matter what other people might think. The important thing was that he was having fun and enjoying life. Besides, madness was right next to genius. Little people, with limited minds incapable of understanding power, would accuse anyone who was different of being mad, evil or dangerous.
"They called Merlin mad, you know," he said. "But he was one of the world's greatest magicians. Until he was destroyed by a woman, of course. That is what happens to those who fall in love. They act stupidly, become weak." That would never happen to Gellert.
Damn hand! he thought in frustration, wanking furiously. It was no good. No matter how fast he went, it just wasn't doing anything for him. Glaring at his hand in anger, he was possessed by an absurd desire to cut it off, but despite being tipsy he still had enough sense to recognise the foolishness of that idea.
He sighed. It was taking more and more to get himself off these days. Sex had become so predictable and boring.
It had been much easier when he was younger and he'd first become interested in girls. All he'd needed then were some of the prized naughty pictures he'd gotten from the older boys in Durmstrang. The women in the pictures were strange, beautiful creatures, nothing like his mother or sister or any of the girls in his school. They were an exotic new species of human Gellert had never seen before, dressed in silks and feathers and high heels, painted with eye shadow and mascara.
Unlike the real girls Gellert knew, who were prim and proper, plain and boring, virtuous and modest, the girls in the photos were bad girls, naughty sluts, shameless whores. They were sexual and they knew it. Their bodies were weapons, poised to stab at men's self-control and society's values, beautiful but deadly, in the same way that an ornamented knife or a curving sword's blade had a mortal attraction. Their bodies were perfect as angels, but their souls were all tainted with corruption, their eyes full of hellfire.
These being magical photos, the girls moved. They blew kisses, gazed out at Gellert with their eyes full of teasing promises and false coyness, gently slipped off their clothes. Piece by piece they stripped, slowly revealing their round breasts, their smooth skin, their narrow waists, long legs, arching backs and the delicate flowers of their cunts. Gellert was hypnotised. The number of sweaty, bliss-filled hours he spent interfering with himself over the picture of a pouting girl stretched on her back, her raven hair spreading like a pool of night, licking her wet lips with her pink tongue, her body writhing, her breasts heaving, until at last Gellert couldn't take it any more and he came in a sticky moment of rapture and hot, gasping breaths.
But afterwards he felt empty, and the girls only made him angry. He felt that they were laughing at him with their knowing eyes. Silly little boy, they seemed to be saying, you can't resist us. How weak you men are. You think you're in charge, but we can make you do anything we want. He hated the way the women in the photos manipulated him. Filthy dirty sluts! They knew exactly what they were doing, they knew they were driving him crazy, and they loved it. They wanted him to make a fool of himself. Once he got so angry at one of the girls that he ripped her photograph in two, but he felt sorry afterwards because she was the only redhead in his collection and she had a beautiful body. He tried to repair the photo but the spell was damaged, and she refused to return to the picture anyway. He masturbated bitterly over the torn pieces before setting fire to them and almost burning down his dormitory.
Soon the pictures weren't enough. He wanted a real girl. The girls in the photos were gorgeous, but they were too perfect to be real. He wanted, needed to feel a warm wet cunt sliding around his cock as he pounded it. He was lucky enough to be handsome and likeable, and there were many girls in Durmstrang who would have happily agreed to be his girlfriend, but he wasn't ready for such a commitment. From what he'd seen so far, having a girlfriend would mean a lot of work on his part, and no guarantee of sex. He decided that he would begin by observing.
Hiding himself with a Disillusionment Charm, he began to sneak into the girls' dormitories, baths or changing rooms whenever he had the opportunity, taking care not to make any noise or draw any attention to himself. He would feast his eyes on the smorgasbord set before him: girls in their natural habitat, unaware that they were being watched, happily chatting as they undressed for bed or the baths, innocently doing the little feminine things that they hid from the rest of the world, like applying make-up or doing each other's hair. To see the girls whom he saw every day in class like this, exposed and tender and vulnerable, made him very excited. Even more so when they went into the baths, and the steaming hot water cascaded down their bodies in heavenly waves, and they touched themselves all over, rubbing themselves with soap. Then Gellert would get so excited that he had to wank right then and there, and it was a struggle for him not to make any noise.
Merely watching didn't satisfy Gellert for long. Soon enough he had chosen a target and started to work on her, sending her silly little cards and poems and other things that girls liked, asking her to a dance, and taking her for long rowing trips on the lake. Not long afterwards Gellert had his first sexual encounter, a little awkward and clumsy, but more than satisfying. After having her a few more times, he grew bored and moved onto others…
Soon even sex wasn't enough to content him. He needed more. He started his enacting violent fantasies, treating his girlfriends roughly, slapping them, biting them, choking them, forcing them to do things. He discovered that he liked seeing the pain and fear in their eyes. It made things more intense, more exciting, and with his low boredom threshold he needed some novelty to keep things interesting. As he grew older he became more adventurous, his restlessness driving him to seek out more and more new experiences. He experimented with various drugs and magical spells, which gave him brief thrills but never lasted for long. He even had a couple of sexual encounters with other boys.
It had started one night when he was lying in the same bed as Klaus, one of the many classmates who admired him and practically worshipped him. On this particular night, Gellert noticed to his horror that the touch of Klaus' warm body against his was making him hard. Once he realised what was happening, he was so disturbed that he immediately leapt out of bed and resolved to stay far away from Klaus.
What did this mean? Was Gellert a queer? The thought sickened him. He hated those queer boys who degraded themselves by acting like females. He didn't know why anyone who was fortunate enough to be born a male would want to lower themselves by imitating the weaker sex. It was a disgusting, unnatural thing and Gellert wanted nothing to do with it.
After thinking about it for several days, he realised that he had quite overreacted. It hadn't meant anything; it was just a physical reaction. After all, he knew he wasn't a queer. He wasn't attracted to cocks at all – except perhaps his own. It was just that his cock had a mind of its own, and it wasn't very discriminating. The touch of anyone's warm skin was enough to set it off, regardless of whether the person in question were female, male, young, old, ugly, beautiful, or even human. Thus satisfied and once again secure in his sexuality, Gellert returned to his old self again.
But a few weeks later, when he and Klaus happened to be alone in the dormitory once again, and Gellert had had quite a lot to drink, a powerful curiosity took hold of him. He began to wonder what it would feel like to have sex with another boy. Not on the receiving end, of course, for that would be disgusting. He would rather die than have someone else's cock inside him. But to be the one doing the fucking… what would that be like? He couldn't help but wonder. After all, he had tried everything else, and nothing had ever held his attention for very long. And Klaus was quite a young and girly-looking boy… he almost could be a girl. And as far as Gellert's cock was concerned, the only difference between Klaus and a girl was that Klaus had one less hole…
And that was how it began. When Klaus realised what was happening, his eyes went wide with horror and his whole body stiffened. Gellert, seeing the fear in the younger boy's eyes, knew that he had made the right decision. This was exciting! Klaus was stronger than a girl, yet his struggles were somehow more pathetic and desperate, because he was a boy about to suffer the ultimate humiliation of being turned into a bitch. It was violent, intense and brutal. Klaus begged, pleaded, sobbed and whimpered, which only drove Gellert into a greater frenzy, and by the time it was all over Klaus was lying completely still, all the resistance gone out of his body, his eyes glazed and empty as though his soul had flown away to a faraway place to escape the indignities being suffered by his body. Gellert's white, sticky seed smeared Klaus' face and mixed with the salt tears trailing down his cheeks. By then Gellert was on his side, dozing, uncaring of the blood staining the sheets…
Slowly, Gellert returned to the present. Yes, he had had a lot of sex in his time, and it was no wonder that his hand just wasn't doing it for him any more. It was all the fault of that damn fool Albus! Trust a little cock-tease faggot like him to lead Gellert along and then abandon him, leaving him high and dry, with no way to get his satisfaction!
Pushing all those thoughts aside, Gellert determined to complete the business at hand as soon as possible so he could return to Albus. He began to wank with renewed vigour and purpose, as fast as he could, without rest. He was determined to come as quickly as he could. He took no real pleasure in what he was doing. It was just something he had to do, like scratching an itch or coughing when something was caught in his chest. When he finally did reach the moment of climax after several minutes hard and unceasing effort, he observed the effects distantly and with no particular joy. He lay on his back, spent, and allowed himself to rest for a few moments and catch his breath.
Drawing his wand, he said, "Tergeo," and siphoned off the semen where it had spilt on his clothes and body.
Then he went off in search of Albus.