A ghost, a dwarf, and the dark lords lordy load

It was a windy evening in Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry, and those who were outside knew it. Walking from the Main hall, it was nigh-impossible to reach your dorm without an enchanted robe. Fortunately for the students, Dumbledore had an abundance of robes, which he claimed were enchanted – the run-off of which, he said, was the odd white substance that would trickle down the hood.

Inside the dorms, students played and studied, flicking through books or shooting spells across the rooms from bed to bed. One child would shoot a spell out of their wand, another child would receive the spell to the face and let out a "shriek! "of terror before actively firing back at the sender… it was a time of joy for all who witnessed.

One such man who did not witness it was Professor Flitwick, who occupied his own room within the teacher's dormitories. Once upon a time, he would have had a dormitory with the students, but this rule was dissolved after an incident with one of the founding members (Slytherin) who decided he would enchant the dormitory of some young Gryffindor's with the ghost of a student's basilisk. Needless to say, there was some issue with the Basilisk and a female students chamber of secrets, which caused the said rule above be put into enforcement – school legend has it that this Basilisk still roams today.

Flitwick enjoyed pondering the idea of sharing a dormitory with students, especially the younger female ones. He would often spend sleepless nights flicking his wand between his fingers and dreaming of the young first year girls, who were so little at the time of joining that sometimes he towered over him. As a 4' man, there is hardly a time were you don't feel emasculated. If there is a time where you feel a rush of masculinity, you can be sure for Flitwick that the first year girls are about.

Flitwick was not scared of his fantasies – he had been lusting himself in them since he was a young boy, after all. He was secure in the fact that they were his dark secrets and that as long as his secrets were secret, he would be completely safe.

But there was one person he could not hide them from. Nearly Headless Nick had been watching Flitwick for years. He would witness with a slight fascination the sight of the professor staring out of his window at the children's impromptu games of Quidditch, and sight spittle forming on his lower lips as he craved the boys who, with a smile on their face and a broom between their legs, aroused Flitwick.

But what Flitwick didn't know was that the ghost, Nick, enjoyed the same views. But Nick had darker secrets he would release on Flitwick.

The professor was leaning against his bed, smiling as he slumped back with his eyes closed. His mind told him he was almost finished – the unicorn hair was sliding out the end of his wand, closer and closer.

He jerked to a stop. The pressure in his stick was immense, but he held in… something was wrong. He felt the cold breeze form into a shape around his neck, then up to stroke along his cheek and through his hair. There was only one thing Flitwick had ever felt like this before – the school ghosts.

"Great Gustavo, what th-" Flitwick halted, speechless, to realise it was not a hand but a throbbing bratwurst. Flitwick knew he this belonged to instantly – he had seen every sausage in the school, whether it be a teacher, student, female student, animal or ghost, and then was only one shlong this hot.

"Nick!" He cried out in alarm, but was silenced by the ginormous knob that was forced into his mouth, and then slid deeper and deeper down his throat. He felt his ribs bend as the tool expanded within his chest, emptying out his air supply as it forced his lungs to release their tiny load. He cringed as his stomach was poked, and he felt a huge amount of puke rise up into his throat, only to be forced down by the great pressure of Nick's dong.

The penis slithered deeper and deeper still within Flitwick's body, so deep that it gently prodded Flitwick's testicle. This was everything Flitwick needed and more – with a tremendous effort, Flitwick shot steaming hot jizz all over the room, even backwards. It hit the ceiling the walls the floor the windows the door and the bed, nothing was safe from his sticky mess. It caused him to slip forward, the pressure of Nick's cock released as he too had cum all over the inside of Flitwick's slippery balls.

As he slid out of the bed, the professor felt a sharp pain directly on the rim of his pooper. He slid forward and shot off the bed at lightning speeds, slamming head-first against the door with an immense crash.

Flitwick was in a state of conflicting emotions – immense pain from his inside being all but destroyed by Nick's performance, but immense pleasure as the orgasm he had suffered made him feel like his dick was spent for life. He tried to form words, but the mix of the crash and the willy had simply broken his jaw, and he was unable to open his mouth more than a centimetre.

"You know, I know you like to watch the kids outside," the ghoul teased, "I know you like to imagine the young first years with you, slaving for you by the dozen" Nick teased his flaccid rod over Flitwick's chest, making Flitwick groan in pleasure, but then groan with the pain this caused (much to Nick's delight) "and I know that you loved what we just did."

With a flick of his wand, Flitwick realigned his jaw, only to spit out a few words and have it dislocated again: "I never knew you had such a hot dog," he said.

"Oh yes, it's quite delicious. But it has another feature."

The professor grimaced as he witnessed the head of the slimy sickly stick bend off, revealing the gruelling and puss filled insides – he could see the semen shoot than ran directly from the ghostly testicles of the man to the once again throbbing tip – like when people cut in half a car to see the insides. He could see the veins that dripped non-existent phantom blood onto the floor, and caused his member to be confused about whether it was or wasn't hard – after all, the blood supply was being pumped in and dripping straight out again.

Flitwick was amazed, and knew one thing – he wanted more. He rammed his tongue to lick up the blood that was spewing from Nick's trouser-snake veins. He spat it back at the cock, this time inside the seamen shoot. Nick groaned as Flitwick slid in his tiny dwarf fingers, and began pounding it with all his might – first two, then three fingers. The ends of the tube began to split open but this stopped neither Nick nor Flitwick, as Flitwick continued working. He was soon shoulder deep within Flitwick's shoot, and using his other free arm, stroking Nick's senseless Urethra.

Nick was in ecstasy. He never believed such a strong state of euphoria could be reached but he was there, and as he watched the Professor climb within the chute that would supply the cum, he knew had to do just that – cum. He let out an impossibly loud moan and screamed "HOLY SHIT FLITWICK YOU TINY BASTARD I'M GONNA BLOW, GAAAAHHHHHHH-" the scream was cut short by another thick stream of cock juice. The fluids flowed left and right, in a distorted manner, as it had not been channelled by the usual exit of his japs eye. Out of the chute finally came a nearly unrecognisable Flitwick – he himself was pale white like a ghost, from head to toe.

The immense force of the ejaculation had realigned Flitwick's jaw and, with fresh excitement, screamed, "I want you to give me the same ecstasy!" Nick was happy to oblige, and didn't know how – he was hung like a horse but it wasn't ready to stand to attention, not so quickly again.

But the scream Nick had let out had awoken something more – from within the vents of the room, a silent hiss was released. All was still. Suddenly, the head of the basilisk shot out, opened wide, and spat out the dark lord himself – Voldemort.

He stood tall over both the professor and the apparition, and trumped them both in length and girth, almost to a deformed amount.

He saw Flitwick bearing all and immediately knew what to do. Without hesitation he grabbed the miniature man's shovel and began furiously petting it, short and long rubs, at impossible speeds. Hands dry, Flitwick felt as if his genitals were being rope burned. With a tremendous pain, the cock was burned clean off by the friction.

All along, this was the dark lord's scheme – there was now another hole to fuck. He slithered over and turned Flitwick around, ramming his unlikely shaped snake into the freshly made hole. Flitwick screamed as once again his insides were destroyed by another man's incredible erection.

Nick, feeling left out, lifted Flitwick's head and turned himself around. He rammed the dwarfs head between his buttocks and clenched, hard. Between the moans of pain and arousal the professor would lick away, slowly arousing the apparition to a non-fluid orgasm. This happened repeatedly as Voldemort worked harder and harder on the other side – the spit roasting was so intense that Flitwick was suspended in mid-air, no digit limb or testicle touching the ground. Truly powerless, he prayed to god that his days were not numbered and that he would not die here, on this night, trapped between the lord of evil and a non-existent man, being essentially raped.

But he couldn't go any further with his prayer, as he was once again greeted by an ocean of male ejaculate. He was bored of this now, the constant pain and cum. The past few hours had blurred together, and to him, he felt he could only describe the past experience in 4 and a half pages. For the most amazing sex he had ever had, it wasn't at all memorable.

He phased back to reality as he saw the scene in front of him – the dark lord and nearly headless nick, caressing each other sensually whilst bickering about why they were both spent – Nick had cum twice, and Volde only once, but Voldemort had cum sooner and it had been twenty minutes since Nick put it on recharge – why couldn't it stand tall now!?

The professor threw up everywhere, but the others present paid no attention. The professor was lost, dazed and confused, but knew what it was time for.

He crawled to the side of his bed, pulled out a gun from under the pillow, and shoved it directly in the hole his dick had once been. With an almighty sigh, he pulled the trigger.

To Nick, the scene happened in slow-motion. He turned to see Flitwick, bruised and pale with sticky creamy cheese, shove a pistol directly into his newest orifice. He waited, and then pulled the trigger. His body spasmed and flew across the room, the force of the hammer too much for the out of scale man. The bullet exited through his neck, releasing some of the cum from Nick's earliest ejaculation.

Nick was afraid – he had been witnessing this man for years, and over that time he had done many horrible things to himself. How could this have scarred him to the point of suicide?

Voldemort acted entirely differently – with a massive grin and a loud "Eh-heh-he," he charged over to the corpse and began boning it in the eye socket with his semi-erect dingle-berry. In this semi form, it was effectively an almighty chode – 7" wide and only 7" long, it didn't nearly match the splendour of his fully excited wee-wee. That didn't matter though – the size was too much for Flitwick's mini skull. It cracked in half then half again, then the quarters quartered and finally split again, revealing the brain of the man – a small lifeless lump.

Voldemort picked it up, rung it out over his cock to cause the blood to drip out over it, and then ate it whole. The blood as his lube, he shoved his fully erect shlong once more into Nick, who was not ready for such force. With an outcry louder than before, he screamed and his anus sphincter sealed shut tight, cutting Voldemort's knob clean in half. It was already too late though, as Voldemort had already cum. There was so much now, an impossible amount for what must have been inside his shrivelled testicles. With a gasp, Nick realised that the reason Voldemort loved blood was because his body had none – in his veins, was just jizz and sperm. Nick opened his mouth to speak, but it was flooded with Voldemort's cum. It never stopped spewing out, and the room was filling up. Within seconds, the pressure had forced it to bubble on the surface and rise to the height of their knees. Nick and Voldemort knew it was the end.

And so Voldemort jerked Nick one more time.

-Beta by PsychedelicWren

-Word-Count: 2264

-Pages: 3 (font size 12)