Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am not J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Don't judge me, but I actually enjoyed writing this just because I was rolling on the ground laughing at how preposterous this was, yet how well it actually worked. If it isn't your cup of tea, feel free to just ignore it and read something else, but if you're in for some wild and random smut, read on!

It has been a bad day for Vernon Dursley. His day started just as it always did—he'd eaten a few plates of bacon for breakfast, yelled at Harry, made an important call for work, and yelled at Harry some more—but then, everything started going haywire around evening time. During, arguably, the most important dinner of his business career, strange noises started coming out of his nephew's room, and his Japanese golfer joke had been ruined. He'd scolded Harry, but that didn't do much because five minutes later, the sound of someone banging something loudly started coming from Harry's room. At this, Vernon had marched up to the smallest bedroom again and very quietly—so no one downstairs would hear—threatened Harry to not make any noise. When he got back downstairs, he was quite confident that his good-for-nothing nephew wouldn't be stupid enough to do anything more to aggravate him, but oh boy, was he wrong. Less than ten minutes later, pudding was gliding through the air with Harry controlling it and before he could do anything, it had splattered on the ground and the biggest dinner of his entire career had been an utter disaster—not to mention, the owl had made it ten times worse.

That boy is never going back to that freaky school of his ever again! He thought, as he paced the sitting room in his pyjamas that night. The first thing I'll do tomorrow morning is put bars on his window! Yes, that'll show him! Ignorant little freak!

He thought there was absolutely no way he was going to feel better, no matter what he did, but when he entered the large Master Bedroom, his opinion on the night had abruptly changed.

Petunia was laying on the bed with her bony back turned to him wearing just a thin lace bra and a pair of matching panties, and suddenly he realised that sex would be the only way to lift his spirits. He licked his lips feverishly, staring at her bony arse cheeks with wide eyes and a surreal amount of lust in them.

He and Petunia had not played around in the sac for almost a year, and it had been quite literally torture for him. He was forced to rely on magazines and VHS tapes to pleasure himself, and though it had its benefits, it could never match the feeling of sliding into his wife's tight pussy or slick arshole that he often craved.

Tonight, he thought. Tonight, that changes.

He tiptoed over to the bed, as he felt himself getting hard from just the thought of sex and got in under the covers, pressing his pulsing erection against Petunia's wrinkly arse, wedging the fat member between her cheeks. "Mmmm… Vernon." she moaned, making him feel proud of his seducing skills. He pulled his pyjamas off, leaving him in just his boxers as he unhooked her bra and took it off, before grabbing ahold of her saggy and sweaty tits. He squeezed them easily with his pudgy hands, feeling her erect nipples brush against his palms. Suddenly, Petunia spoke up. "Vernon." She said, groggily. Vernon drooled as he pinched her dark nipples with his thumbs and index fingers and buried his face in her curly blonde hair that smelled like shortbread cookies.

"Yes, dear?" He asked, licking a spot just behind her ear hungrily, as his cock twitched uncontrollably inside his boxers.

"Not tonight, Vernon." she said, pulling his hands off her droopy tits. Vernon froze, his tongue still protruding from his mouth, spreading saliva on the back of Petunia's ear.

"What?" He exclaimed, removing his face from her hair. "Why?"

"I'm tired," she said shortly.

Vernon stared at the back of her head in disbelief. He had been so close to sticking his girthy cock—which was already coated with pre-cum—in her arsehole, and yet again, he'd blown it. What had it been that turned her off? Was it how direct he had been, shoving his underwear-covered cock between her saggy arse cheeks? Or had it been the ear licking? He'd done that type of fetish-y, kinky stuff with her before like licking her toes, nibbling on her loose armpit skin, or even giving her a rimjob but she'd never been turned off by it—in fact, she seemed to love it more than actual sex sometimes.

He turned away from Petunia, laying on his back as he pondered on what had gone wrong when he noticed that he was still hard. Even though Petunia had gone to sleep and covered her body up, Vernon sat staring at the uncomfortable bulge in his boxers, realising that he had to pull out some magazines and wank off to them if he wanted to sleep that night.

He slowly got up, trying not to wake Petunia up and walked out of the room, sneaking downstairs to the garage where he kept his secret stash. Pulling a key from underneath a box, he walked over to a metal safe in the corner of the garage and stuck the key in, turning it and opening the safe up to reveal stacks of magazines and VHSs.

"Hmmmm…" he muttered to himself, deciding on which magazine to choose. There were Club International magazines which Marge had given to him on his birthday, Mayfair magazines which he had borrowed from a colleague at work—hence the cum stains on the front cover that blocked out the sexy blonde woman's large, oiled up tits—and Asian Babes magazines which he'd bought on his own at a gas station.

He flipped through a few until he finally decided on a recent edition of Asian Babes because just staring at the cover had made his mouth water and his cock ache to be released. He put all the other magazines back in the safe, locked it and safely put the key back underneath the box.

All of a sudden, just as he was about to go back in the house, he saw someone—or perhaps something—standing on his billiards table that made him almost scream. The thing slapped its small, leathery hand onto his mouth, muffling his scream. Behind the hand stood a short, wrinkly man—no, child—no, a creature of some sort. Whatever it was, it had bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls, large, bat-like ears, a long, pointed nose, and was wearing what appeared to be a very old, dirty pillowcase that was ripped in several places.

"Shh! We mustn't wake the others!" the creature whispered in a slightly high-pitched voice, smiling slightly.

Vernon stared at the thing, his eyes becoming almost as wide as the wrinkly creature's. His jaw dropped and he was overcome with fear and shock as the wrinkly child removed its hand from his mouth and smiled a toothy grin.

"W-what are you?" Vernon asked, trembling slightly. Maybe this is a dream, he thought. Or perhaps I ate something funny at dinner and it's giving me hallucinations?

However, it didn't matter why he was seeing this because he had no way of escaping. He was frozen in shock and his throat had gone dry, as he continued to stare at the creature in a wild sort of way.

"I'm a house-elf, sir!" The elf squeaked, answering Vernon's question. "Dobby the house-elf."

"A-and w-what are you doing here?" Vernon stuttered, having finally found his voice.

"To assist you, sir." Dobby grinned.

Vernon's piggy eyes narrowed in interest. Even if this is a dream, he thought, it is quite interesting. He often hated odd, abnormal things such as his nephew, but for some reason, this so-called 'house-elf' piqued his interest, and perhaps it was the elf's tickling of his ego. "Me?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, of course, sir!" Dobby said. "Dobby sensed that something was wrong—that Mr Dursley was not happy."

Vernon sighed, plopping down on a wooden chair in front of Dobby, making it creak. "You could say that," he said, unsure as to why he was talking to this elf. Maybe it was because sharing his problems with someone made them seem less bad, even if that someone was a hallucination of an elf named Dobby. "My wife won't sleep with me, or let me touch her glorious saggy tits. Hell, she won't even give me a nice blowjob anymore."

Dobby looked at him sadly. "Dobby understands, sir. A large man like yourself needs to be aroused and satisfied."

"Yes! Precisely!" Vernon exclaimed, his attitude towards the elf improving. "And that's why I've been wanking off to magazines for a year and a half. But it's not the same. I need real sex—a-at least a blowjob."

"Dobby wishes there was some way he could help," Dobby said, timidly.

Vernon sighed. "Me too, Dobby. Me too."

For a moment, the garage was filled with silence, until Dobby suddenly spoke: "Dobby has an idea, sir."

"Oh yeah?" Vernon chuckled, admiring the elf's perseverance and dedication.

"Yes, but Mr Dursley must trust Dobby." Dobby answered, his big eyes looking directly at Vernon.

"Er… yes, sure. I trust you," he replied, a little confused as to what the elf's idea was.

"Does Mr Dursley promise?"

Vernon nodded and Dobby smiled and jumped off the billiards table, landing in front of Vernon. He reached his hands up and grabbed the waistband of Vernon's boxers tightly. Vernon's eyes widened, as he realised what the small elf was about to do and he grabbed onto Dobby's hands, preventing him from yanking his boxers off. "No! You can't do that, Dobby!" He hissed.

Dobby looked up at him, his big, glass orb-eyes staring intently. "But Mr Dursley promised."

Vernon sighed and let go of Dobby's hands. "I'm sorry, you're right. You… erm… go along with your idea." He said, putting his face in his hands. What the ruddy hell was going on?! He was sure this was no longer a dream, and if he'd had his post-nut clarity, he would've kicked the elf out and called the police, but with his cock still hard and the cum in his body begging to be released, his mind was not sharp and was instead being controlled by his cock.

Dobby secured his leathery hands on Vernon's waistband and without hesitation, pulled the boxer briefs down to his ankles, letting his aching cock jump out at Dobby, and making him emit a soft moan.

Vernon was proud of his cock—not for its length which was only four and a half inches long, but rather for its girth—an impressive six inches. It barely fit in Dobby's small hands, but that wasn't a problem that he had to worry about for too long because when Dobby licked his cock from base to tip, sending shivers down his spine, it was clear that his cock was soon going to be in Dobby's mouth.

Dobby licked from base to tip again, but this time settling on the fat tip and taking it in his mouth. Vernon moaned in ecstasy, feeling a type of bliss he hadn't felt in a long time as Dobby sucked obediently on the sticky, pre-cum coated tip. He used his tongue to swerve around, tickling the head and the small hole in the middle, before using his saliva to lubricate it.

Every bad thought and bad memory from the day had left Vernon's mind as he closed his eyes and moaned with every lick Dobby gave his head. Soon, his breathing became faster, and Dobby started feasting on the rest of his cock. He slurped and gagged in all the right places and at all the right moments, as his tongue hugged Vernon's thick shaft, making it drip with elf spit.

Ten minutes into this slow, sloppy, yet skilled blowjob, Vernon took his hands off the edge of the chair and put them on Dobby's bare head, taking control. Dobby didn't stop him as he pushed the elf's head further down, his cock feeling an unbearable tickling sensation that made Vernon start moaning like a teenage girl having an orgasm.

Vernon increased the pressure on Dobby's head and suddenly stood up, making Dobby gag audibly and look up at him, his large green eyes filled with lust. Vernon thrusted against Dobby's mouth, creating a new feeling that was better than anything he'd experienced before. Each thrust was special and filled with unimaginable pleasure. With each thrust, Dobby gagged audibly, creating saliva that coated Vernon's cock and sent the elf's flexible tongue down the shaft to the base. With each thrust, Dobby's pointy nose jammed into Vernon's crotch, giving him a feeling of deep arousal and making him emit girlish moans that even Petunia had never heard her husband let out. And with every thrust, Vernon's heavy, sweaty and large balls—only slightly smaller than golf balls—slapped against Dobby's wrinkly chin, sending a shockwave of extreme orgasmic tension through his body.

Vernon wanted this feeling to last forever—to be a continuous thing in his life going forward, but as Dobby began to deepthroat his meaty cock with exceptional speed, agility and vigour, he felt himself coming close and before he knew it, he had let out a loud moan, enough to wake up even Dudley, who slept like a bear in hibernation, and ropes of thick, white, creamy cum launched out of his cock, travelling down Dobby's throat.

Even without a warning, Dobby obediently swallowed every ounce of cum in Vernon's cock, milking it dry, before letting the now-flaccid cock drop out of his mouth.

Vernon stared at Dobby in newfound wonder for the elf, breathing heavily. "Thank you." He said, his voice barely a whisper. Dobby smiled, and Vernon let his eyes close. When he opened them again however, Dobby was gone.

It was just him, sitting naked on a wooden chair in his garage, his underpants around his ankles, and his flaccid cock resting on his right thigh.