Harry had been orphaned at the age of one after the deaths of his parents and was subsequently raised by his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. They were far from supportive, keeping him on a very short leash and treating him more like a freak than a member of the family. Vernon worked as a director at Grunnings, a company that manufactured drills. Petunia, his mother's older sister, was a thin, nosy, horse-faced woman who had always been cold toward Harry and openly hostile to anything connected to magic.
Only near the end of his time at Hogwarts had Harry learned the real reason behind much of that bitterness. Petunia had wanted to be a witch herself and had even written to Dumbledore as a child, begging to be allowed to attend Hogwarts. When his mother went and she could not, that jealousy had hardened into resentment toward her sister and, eventually, toward even the word magic itself.
Now that Harry had graduated from Hogwarts, he had taken a break from the wizarding world to deal with some of the issues left over from his childhood. After Voldemort's defeat, Petunia and Vernon had eventually returned to Number Four, Privet Drive, though Harry had not visited them since. When he finally returned, he expected to find them in the kitchen as usual. Instead, the house was unusually quiet.
He found Vernon on the floor, and Petunia tied to the bed upstairs. Harry rushed to Vernon first and checked for a pulse, but there was none. His walrus-like body was already cold and stiff. Harry then turned his attention to Petunia. She was in obvious distress, blindfolded and completely naked, with her wrists and ankles tied to the bed and a ball gag strapped into her mouth. A dildo had been left vibrating in her pussy, and the sheets were totally soaked.
Harry tried to calm her, with little success. He removed the gag and restraints, wrapped her in a blanket, and tried to help her stand. Her legs would barely support her, so despite her weak protests, he carried her to his old bedroom and called 999.
The authorities kept the circumstances surrounding Vernon's death and Petunia's condition confidential. Somehow, Harry and Petunia managed to get through the following week. The funeral was simple and far more dignified than Harry expected. It was clear that Vernon's abrasive and cutthroat nature had not earned him many close friends.
The insurance policy came as a surprise, but the ownership of Number Four was an even bigger one. The house had been in Petunia's name all along. She had always believed her mother had arranged it for her, only to discover after Vernon's death that the house had actually been bought for her by Lily. Knowing Petunia would never have accepted anything from her directly, Lily had made sure the truth was kept from her.
Vernon had also taken out an additional life-insurance policy naming Dudley as the sole beneficiary. Dudley collected the money but did not return to Privet Drive afterward, leaving Petunia to deal with the house and Vernon's affairs largely on her own. She could no longer bring herself to sleep in their bedroom and usually slept on the couch instead.
For several days, she barely spoke unless she had to. About nine or ten days later, however, she seemed to perk up a little. One morning, while she and Harry were having breakfast, she finally began speaking openly with him.
"Harry, I suppose you have questions. After what you saw, I can hardly blame you. And I suppose I owe you a few answers."
"You don't owe me an explanation for that, Aunt Petunia."
"Oh, bloody hell, of course I do." Petunia put her cup down with more force than necessary. "You came back here because of us, didn't you? Because of the way Vernon and I treated you. I'm not foolish enough to pretend otherwise."
Harry looked at her for a moment before answering. "That's part of why I came back. It doesn't mean you have to tell me about your sex life."
"No, but perhaps it is time you understood that there were parts of our lives you knew absolutely nothing about." She folded her hands around her cup. "Vernon and I suited one another remarkably well. We had similar tastes in food, drink, music, the sort of life we wanted, even some of the same jealous tendencies. Our tastes in the bedroom were rather similar as well. But you had no idea we were anything other than white-bread ordinary. What you walked in on must've been quite a shock."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "I spent most of my childhood thinking the two of you considered anything unusual a personal insult."
"Yes, well, there is a considerable difference between what one does privately and what one allows the neighbours to know."
"Well, that is an understatement."
Aunt Petunia laughed. "Well, you're young and relatively inexperienced. Did you have any idea that we were..."
"Kinky? No, not a clue. You guys hid it well. Are you serious about answering my questions? Because it might get... awkward."
"Harry, you found me naked, gagged, and tied to a bed. I think we are somewhat past awkward. Ask whatever you want. I will answer if I choose to, and if something is too personal, I will tell you so."
"Okay, were you always so kinky?"
"Oh my, yes! From an early age. Once I discovered masturbation, I became curious very quickly. I experimented with all sorts of things. I liked seeing how far I could push myself and how intense an orgasm I could manage."
"Really? Wow. Was she as kinky as you?"
"Oh, stop being dramatic." Her expression shifted slightly. "Your mother is as curious as a cat about her red-haired pussy. We were close when we were younger, much closer than you probably realised. Once we started discovering those things, we occasionally experimented together."
Harry stared at her. "You and Mum?"
"Yes."
He was silent for several seconds. "I really wasn't prepared for that."
"I gathered as much."
"Was she as... kinky as you?"
"Not quite." Petunia thought about it. "She was certainly adventurous, but I went considerably further than she ever did. James was part of the reason. He could be surprisingly conventional about certain things. He had some rather ridiculous ideas about what respectable old wizarding families should and should not do."
"What are you referring to?"
"Well, let's see, that depends on what you consider kinky. Yes, I like sex and orgasms, and I can't seem to do without either one. I like to cum. I like to feel it, play with it, smell it, and taste it. I love cum. Anal sex is my niche too. I love to have my ass filled with cock, toys, and cum. I love the thrill of the taboo; violating the social norms or just being daring is a turn-on. I've had sexual encounters in many strange places. I also like to be dominated and forced to play the submissive. That's why you found us in just such a predicament."
"So what I found you in was something the two of you normally did?"
"Under normal circumstances, yes."
Harry's expression became more serious. "So isn't that pretty dangerous?"
"Well, yes, it can be. You must always have a safe word."
What's a safe word?"
"Well, when you are playing roles, you may beg and plead for the dominant to stop or quit, but don't mean it. But if I use my safe word, agreed upon by both beforehand, it means stop immediately. Violation of this means loss of trust, and we never play again."
"Huh, okay..."
"My safe word has always been 'Hudson'."
"Why are you telling me that?"
"No real reason, it's just an unforgettable fun fact about your aunt."
Harry shook his head slowly. "You two spent my entire childhood complaining about people who behaved improperly."
Petunia gave him a pointed look. "Hypocrisy is hardly an uncommon failing in raising children."
"What about pain? Are you into whips and paddles?"
"No, I'm not into pain as such, although physical discomfort often occurs, we keep it reasonable. And Vernon would always monitor the situation closely for signs of distress."
Harry was quiet for a moment. "You're making Uncle Vernon sound strangely responsible."
Petunia's expression hardened slightly. "He was my husband, Harry. Whatever else he may have been, he understood me extremely well."
"Wait, that sounds like... you guys were swingers?"
"Occasionally, yes."
"Wow! I had no idea."
"Nor should you have. We needed to keep everything quite confidential. Therefore, I must ask you a favour."
"That sounds worse than everything you've just told me."
"Vernon took photos and videos of me and a couple of other... friends. I'm pretty sure they're on his computer, but I can't find them. There are a lot of password-protected files. You know more about computers, at least more than I do. Can you help find and delete any compromising pictures? And please, make sure to keep this secret from Dudley."
Harry studied her for a moment. "You really think I'd tell him?"
"No. But I need to know that you understand how important this is."
"He won't hear anything from me."
Petunia visibly relaxed.
Harry picked up his tea again, though it had gone nearly cold. "For what it's worth, this isn't why I came back."
Petunia looked down at the table. "I know."
Petunia left Harry alone that morning, and he opened Vernon's computer using the login information she had given him. As she had warned, several of the folders were password-protected.
Harry briefly considered whether magic would make things easier, then decided against experimenting on the computer and potentially destroying whatever Petunia wanted removed. He knew enough about Muggle computers to try the obvious approach first: guessing Vernon's passwords.
"pet" opened the first folder.
It contained relatively tame nude photographs of a young Petunia in different places and poses. Some were obviously old, probably taken when she and Uncle Vernon had first started dating or shortly after they married. Harry found himself lingering over them longer than he should have. She looked fantastic in several of them.
A few minutes later, "Petuni@" opened another folder. These photographs were considerably less tame. Petunia appeared in various stages of undress, sometimes completely naked and sometimes restrained with an assortment of cuffs, ropes, and other equipment.
After that, most of the passwords fell to similarly lucky guesses because they were hilariously simple. Some folders contained photographs of Petunia and Vernon having sex or using dildos and other toys. Other people appeared in a few of them, men and women Harry did not recognise. He hurried through those, looking mainly for anything compromising enough that Petunia would want it deleted.
Eventually, only one large protected folder remained. Judging from its size, Harry guessed it probably contained videos.
He tried several passwords before remembering what Petunia had told him over breakfast. On a whim, he typed a variation of her safe word.
"Huds0n!"
The folder opened.
Harry stared at the screen. It was packed with video files. Some showed Vernon and Petunia together. Others showed Petunia with men Harry had never seen before, or Vernon with unfamiliar women.
Against his better judgment, Harry opened one involving Petunia.
It was considerably more explicit than anything he had seen in the photographs. Petunia was being fisted by another woman, and Harry was so focused on what they were doing that it took him several seconds to recognise her.
Sophie. Mrs Number Seven.
She lived on Privet Drive, or at least she had when Harry was younger. She was quite petite and, if he remembered correctly, had worked as a yoga instructor. Harry found himself wondering how old the recording was as he continued watching.
Sophie eventually started having sex with Petunia, and Harry's erection became impossible to ignore. He shifted in the chair, tried to keep watching without touching himself, then gave up. His hand slipped inside his trousers and wrapped around his cock as the video continued.
He stroked himself slowly at first, eyes fixed on the screen. Sophie had Petunia spread open beneath her, and whatever hesitation Harry had felt about watching was rapidly disappearing. His pace quickened as Petunia reacted to what Sophie's hand was doing, and before long Harry was masturbating properly, one hand gripping the edge of the desk while the other worked his cock.
He came while still watching them.
For several seconds afterward, Harry remained in the chair, breathing heavily and staring at the video as it continued to play. Once he had composed himself, he moved on to the remaining files. He found several more videos involving Petunia and people he only vaguely recognised or did not know at all.
The sound of the front door opening downstairs made him close the video immediately.
Petunia was back.
Harry sat still for a moment, adjusted his pants as best he could before getting up and heading into the kitchen.
"Hi, Harry! Are you hungry? I'll make some spaghetti."
"Sure. Sounds good." Harry paused before adding, "Oh, by the way, I unlocked those files. You can delete them or put new passwords on them whenever you want."
Petunia looked at him. "Oh. Thank you."
After lunch, she spent some time at the computer. Harry left her to it. When she finally came away from the desk, he could tell she had been crying, though she made no mention of it.
Later, he checked the computer himself. All of the files had been deleted, but she had not emptied the recycle bin.
Harry did.
He woke sometime during the night with the distinct feeling that he was no longer alone.
A moment later, the mattress shifted behind him.
Petunia.
Harry stayed still and kept his breathing even. He felt her move closer until she was pressed against his back. Then he realised she was naked.
Her hand settled against his hip.
For a few seconds, it stayed there.
Then it moved.
Harry's body went rigid as her fingers slid lower and closed around his cock.
His first instinct was disbelief. His second was to tell her to stop.
Instead, he stayed where he was.
His cock twitched in her hand despite his resistive thoughts, then began to harden.
Bloody hell.
It had to be everything that had happened over the past few days. Everything he had seen. Everything that had already shifted between them. There was no other explanation for why he was lying there letting his aunt touch him, or why his body was reacting as though the woman behind him were anyone but Petunia Dursley.
Except that she was not simply Aunt Petunia at that moment.
She was a woman pressed naked against his back, trying to seduce him.
And he wanted her.
Harry shut his eyes.
He could keep pretending to be asleep and see how far she went. He could stop her. Or he could turn around and deal with what was happening properly.
His cock was fully hard now.
Pretending was pointless.
"Aunt Petunia," he said quietly, "if you keep doing that, I'm going to—"
"Fuck me, Harry."
His eyes opened.
"What?"
"Bugger me."
Harry turned his head slightly. "You're my aunt."
"I'm aware."
"That generally makes this a bad idea."
"I'm also a widow." Her voice remained clipped, even though her breathing was not. "I'm your mother's sister, yes. I am also a woman, and at the moment I want a hard cock to rock my world."
Harry said nothing.
Petunia continued, her composure fraying only around the edges.
"I want you to fuck me. I want your cock in my cunt. In my arse. I want your cum in my mouth. I want your hands around my throat." She swallowed. "I want you to dominate me. Control me. Punish me. I've been a horrible aunt to you, Harry. I know that. So do it. Please."
Something in her voice caught him.
Not the obscenity of what she was asking for. Not even the desperation.
It was the fact that she meant it.
Harry knew very little about this sort of arrangement beyond the obvious rules. And Petunia was lying naked beside him, asking him for exactly what she wanted.
"How do I know you won't change your mind?" he asked.
"I will."
Harry frowned.
"I'll cry," she said. "I'll plead. I'll beg you to stop. That is part of it. You do not stop unless I use my safe word. You only stop if I say, Hudson. Until then, you can do anything you want."
"Anything?"
"Yes."
Petunia hesitated for only a second. "Yes."
Harry rolled onto his back, caught a fistful of her hair, and pulled her toward his crotch.
"Suck me."
Petunia resisted just enough to make the movement obvious.
"No..."
Harry tightened his grip.
"I said suck me, Pet, suck my cock!"
"But Harry..." Her voice had changed already, the reluctance clearly deliberate. "I'm your aunt. Why would you ask me to do something like this?"
"Because you are my sexy aunt, and I want to watch you sucking my cock like a cheap whore..."
She opened her mouth and began sucking with finesse. She played the reluctant role and would stop and beg every few minutes.
"Oh Harry, this is so wrong!"
"I know, and I love it. You do too. Admit it."
"No!"
"Bullshit, Aunt Petunia, you love cock, and you love cum, and you're going to keep getting both from me any time I want!"
"But Harry..."
"Shut up and suck!"
As she sucked on my cock I grew emboldened. How far could I take it before she used her safe word?
He grabbed her head and held it, then shoved his cock deep into her mouth, causing her to gag and choke. He started humping her face. He expected her to pull away but was surprised when she adapted and started deep-throating me.
She caught quick gasps of air when she could, saliva drenching his cock. When he eased up, she tried to pull away. He caught her by the wrist and pulled her back, holding her tightly as she struggled, and kissed her hard.
She whimpered. He pushed her onto the bed and took hold of her breasts, squeezing them as he sucked. Crying, Petunia squirmed and tried to push him away. She was not trying very hard. He sucked at her nipples while she kept begging.
"Harry! Why are you doing this? It's wrong. You shouldn't. Please stop."
He moved his right hand down to the hair between her legs and cupped her. She clamped her thighs together and struggled.
"No. Not there."
He pushed his hand lower and found her already wet. He rubbed her as she whimpered and begged him to stop, but her legs opened, and the resistance eased. He drove two fingers into her; she yelped. He worked them for a time, then brought the wet hand to his mouth and sucked. He fingered her again until his hand was soaked, then held it to her face.
"No. Don't tease me. Please."
He smeared the wetness across her mouth and did it several more times until her face was covered. When he returned to fingering her, she licked her lips. He moved over her, and she made a show of horror.
"You mustn't."
"Shut up," he said, and rubbed his cock along her slit before pushing into her as she struggled. She was soaked, more fluid still coming, surprisingly snug and almost hot inside.
She cried as I drove my cock all the way deep into her. He didn't stop until she had all of his cock properly snuggled in her cunt.
"No. No, Harry. This is incest. You can't. Mmph…"
He covered her mouth with his and held her head while he began to move. She kept up the pretence of struggle, even striking lightly at his back with her fists. When he broke the kiss, she was already grunting with the thrusts. The wet sounds from between her legs and the simple fact of having the woman who had raised him under him kept him hard. She lay with her eyes shut, breathing fast; he could see she wanted it.
He rose onto his knees, took her legs, and kept fucking her. She covered her face with both hands. Her breasts bounced with every stroke. He had thought about them as he was masturbating; now they were simply there.
He gripped her ankles and forced her legs wider. She cried out and reached for him. He watched himself sliding in and out of her, then leaned forward and closed one hand around her throat, only enough to make the point. She held his wrists and whimpered. He drove harder. She made choking noises and her legs kicked.
"This ends when I cum," he said. "And I don't cum until you do. I really want to know how cumming inside someone feels!"
"You can't. You can't cum in your aunt!"
"You fucking want it! I know you do. You have been dreaming of this for years, admit it!"
"Harry!"
"Say it. You've wanted a magical baby for so long."
"Yes. Yes. I'm… I've wanted it for years."
"Does that get you off? Touching yourself thinking about it?"
"Yes," she said, voice breaking.
"Then rub your clit. Now. Make yourself cum harder."
She slid one hand down and worked herself. Sweat ran between them; her breasts still bounced hard. Her free hand tightened on his wrist. Her mouth opened, she drew a sharp breath, and then she cried out.
"I'm cumming, Harry~!"
He pounded her harder for a few more strokes, then pulled out and shoved his cock against her face, not into her mouth. Two more strokes and he climaxed. He had built up a huge load, and his spurts exploded out and covered her face. There was cum in her hair, and thick ropes dripped down from her face onto her tits.
"Harry—"
"I remember you loved cum, right? Now get some off your breasts and lick it. Slowly."
His freaky aunt was enjoying it. The smile that followed was too real. He could see it in her eyes. He stayed where he was, watching, and thought that this might be a Patronus-worthy memory.
He thought she had decent breasts and a wet cunt; it might be worth seeing how the arrangement held for a few days.
"Go back to sleep. You're staying here."
"May I wash?"
"No. I want you to lie there smelling my cum on your face and in your hair. Now go to sleep, Aunt Petunia."
"Good night, Harry."
The day had already been long; the extra effort left him drained enough that sleep came easily.