Two months of the year, their house had a squatter. That's how Dudley's dad described it; a freeloading freak invaded their normal home every summer, eating them out of house and home.
Vernon worked hard every day for their food, their house, their life. Dutifully, five days a week, never missing a day, a perfectly normal man would drive to Grunnings, a company he directed. It was a company where a normal man met his normal wife, a man and his lovely redheaded secretary, so loving, loyal, so much better than her slut sorcerer sister.
Working was normal. Dudley worked, went to a proper school to learn proper things, did proper sports, talked to proper girls. Not like the freaks with their naked rituals and fire dancing, these were upstanding young women. At school they'd giggle in their uniforms just a little too tight over their growing chests, pretending whatever Dudley said was funny, pretending not to notice his eyes looking much lower than their own.
They weren't easy like freaks, getting on their knees for any half-interested boy, something Dudley overheard his mother say about his whorish aunt. Dudley worked hard to get a date with the pretty teens he made laugh, even taking up weight lifting, though the results couldn't be seen past his flubber. Still, the girls liked him; they were happy to go around with him, his lucrative allowance spent to impress them.
Meanwhile, the freak went to a school wearing robes, loose and easy to take off. At the freaks school they learn to write love letters with those bloody owls and straddle brooms for sport.
The freak didn't even cook anymore! Slaving away at the stove was Dudley's mother, while the freak enjoyed her time upstairs, alone on her bed, in what once was Dudley's second room.
More than once, Dudley heard his parents argue, with Dad wanting the girl out. For some reason, Mum wanted the freak to stay. Dudley didn't know why, but he did know democracy.
"Ge'OFF!"
Washing up her dishes, Harriet froze, feeling pudgy fingers grabbing her ass through her skirt. A surprisingly firm grip pulled her back, pinning Harriet to the counter as she struggled, her cousin's fat form pressing against her developing curves.
"Shut it freak!" Snapped Dudley, tightening his bruising grip around Harriet's wrists, "or do you want me to tell Mom to kick you out?"
'It is important, Miss Potter, that you stay with the Dursleys-'
Why.
'You must remain at Privet Drive for the'
Why, Why, Why?
'The Safety of a loving' -lOvE!?- 'Family Harriet-'
Please!
'Please don't risk your-'
…Your-
S-A-F-E-T-Y
Harriet couldn't risk her friends… her real family's safety. And it would be a risk. No matter what, they'd try to protect her, so could she really leave her terrible little safe house and put them at risk? Especially now… He… was back.
So Harriet went limp.
Noticing the freak stop her struggling, Dudley went back to grabbing at Harriet through her clothes. Fists clenched, an oversized shirt and hidden bra did nothing against her cousin's rough gropes of her perky chest. Biting her lip, it became harder and harder to stay quiet, whether Dudley mashed his hands into her concealed tits or circled around to make another grab at her tight behind…
Harriet knew she wasn't pretty.
Cunts and pricks like Pansy and Draco reminded her of it daily. Years of malnutrition left her smaller than most. Pictures of Harriet's mom, Lily, showed her how she was meant to fill out a dress a lot more but was left lacking. Only social climbing asshats asked her to the yule ball, more interested in where she could take them and other more bodacious dress stuffers flitting around the dance hall.
Always a bird's nest, Harriet's hair was nothing like the well-kept locks of the girls her housemates were actually interested in. Never taught by her mother like the other girls, makeup was beyond Harriet; only looking like a gaudy whore when she tried to apply it. Even Harriet's eyes, the one piece of her mother's beauty she captured, were kept behind glass windows, hidden.
Maybe Harriet's back end was more impressive than her perky chest. Quidditch had done her a favour there if the drifting hands and gaze of her Yule ball date was any evidence. Now her cousin's hand came to her ass, groping and squeezing her firm flesh. While one set of fat fingers sank into her bum, the other set never strayed from Harriet's breasts: pinching, pulling, playing.
Harriet wasn't even sure it was sexual.
After standing up to dark lords and giant snakes, dementors and the demented, now Harriet was just a meek plaything for her cousin. Making a point not to look down, there was no way Harriet wanted to know what was going on below Dudley's belly, but… Dudley wasn't trying to get off or get her clothes off to explore her bare skin beneath. No, it was like a child playing with his new toy, exploring, and... practising.
Dudley was practising.
There was probably a girl the pig had in mind as his hands wandered Harriet's curves, searchingly groping. It was to see what he wanted. It was to see what worked so that when he asked out the unlucky chit Dudley would know where to sink his pudgy fingers into. Wanting to be a skilled prince charming for a gold-digging bimbo princess willing to settle, the spoiled manchild demanded Harriet's body as a warm-up and she let him!
Minutes of fumbling molestation dragged by. Dudley squeezed Harriet's bum harder, pulled her perky chest softer, looking for any reaction with experimental cruelty. If Harriet did slip, let out a gasp or an almost moan as Dudley violated her, it only invited a repeat of whatever spawned that tortuous spike of pleasure. Horridly smirking, it was like a child poking something with a stick, enjoying himself whether Harriet responded or not.
More than once, Harriet was thankful Dudley hadn't stripped her of the clothes. Thin fabric that now hid her body's traitorous reactions, pressing hard against her bra's shifting cups and running slick down her thighs.
Yanking his hands back, Dudley wiped her germs onto his trousers as the front door opened, Petunia shuffling in with the shopping. Harriet tried to ignore the hurt of being treated like trash no mother would want their son touching as she fled upstairs.
That wasn't the end of it.
Of course it wasn't. Harriet wasn't lucky enough to get away with just a single groping. With Vernon either working or inattentive and Petunia often out with other ordinary women, there were plenty of opportunities for Dudley to get handsy with his cousin.
Whether it was stealing quick ass grabs with his parents only a room away or longer tit-torturing sessions when left alone with his helpless toy, it didn't matter. Day after day, minutes at a time, growing less clumsy with each molestation, Harriet was used by her cousin. Still, it didn't escalate, not for several days. Seemingly satisfied, smirking and smug, each day Dudley didn't leave Harriet with much more than some ruffled clothes and restless legs.
It was a hot, sunny day when Dudley finally escalated things past forcefully caressing Harriet over her clothes.
Harriet had decided to go to the park, maybe talk to some garden snakes, going to the door in a green summer dress. It wasn't something Harriet usually wore, but one of a set Mrs Weasley bought her in the summer before her second year at Hogwarts. Apparently, Ginny hadn't grown much in years, and Molly relished the chance to dress up a surrogate daughter. Harriet hadn't outgrown them in three years, but they were a bit tighter, especially with the chest hugging Harriet like a second skin, and the dress, once to her knees, now stopped mid-thigh like her school skirts. Growing up wearing hand-me-downs, it was hard for Harriet to justify buying anything new until she literally couldn't wear it.
Maybe it was the tighter attire that had Dudley grabbing her wrist as Harriet reached for the door, demanding the girl watch TV with him. Sitting on the couch with dreadful acceptance, it was obvious what was about to happen. Despite wanting to leave with every fibre of her being, the powerful witch stayed perfectly still.
It started with a hand on her bare thigh. As skin-crawling as Dudley's touch was, Harriet couldn't figure out whether to be insulted or relieved when he focused more on the TV than touching her. Outside the constant sickly reminder caressing her thigh, there wasn't a moment where Dudley's attention ever strayed from the flashing box he worshipped.
…Until the adverts.
Bloody ITV.
Holding her breath, Harriet expected the usual groping, to only instead be faced with Dudley… staring. For one moment, nothing, then two, only for Dudley's hand to finally leave her thigh, moving up and pulling Harriet's dress straps down her shoulders to reveal her cute bra-clad tits. At first, it seemed like Dudley would respect the thin pink fabric covering her breasts as a new barrier, Harriet holding her breath, stunned as her cousin squeezed and played with her.
Dudley went further. A startled breath escaped Harriet's lips when chubby fingers greedily scooped into her bare tit, stuffing themselves into Harriet's tight bra. Wriggling, exhaling near moans, it was like a weight pressing down on her chest, strangling her breath as rough fingers scraped across her sensitive peaks. Squeezed, twisted, pulled, nothing Harriet experienced had given her this wrong, flashing, writhing feeling.
Unsatisfied with reaching in or pulling up Harriet's underwear, it wasn't long before Dudley went to work undoing the young girl's bra. With one hand refusing to leave Harriet's breasts, keeping her squirming beneath his fingers, it took Dudley an embarrassingly long time to undo the garment. Forced to allow Dudley to remove her bra, Harriet watched her protective shield get thrown to the far side of the living room.
Dress pooled around her waist, cool air assaulted Harriet's bare chest for barely a moment of vulnerability before Dudley grabbed both tits hard. Part of Harriet wondered if her cruel cousin was trying to leave his fingerprints on her perky mounds.
…Then the adverts ended.
With one arm around her back, both of Dudley's hands played with Harriet's bare chest absentmindedly while the boy watched his show. Being the first boy to ever touch Harriet's perky breasts wasn't special to him. The lazy molestation just hammered into Harriet how worthless she was to him, objectified, not a person, just a toy.
Harriet tried to ignore it. Tried to imagine someone else caressing her soft titflesh; there was a faint hope that the witch could conjure a fantasy to overcome this reality. It didn't work.
Even magic had its limits apparently; each careless tug of Harriet's nipples brought her crashing back. Harriet had to just sit there and take it, not even aloud quiet dignity when Dudley made a habit of twisting and pulling her tender peaks. Not even looking at her, the spoiled teen wouldn't return to gentle gropes until he forced a gasp, a moan, a cry from the smaller girl.
Was Harriet the first girl Dudley had groped?
The question sprung up as she tried to find anything to latch onto as a distraction. Dudley's fumbling clumsiness in painfully manhandling her breasts suggested so. Still, there was no fanfare, no achievement held in his eyes. Curiosity? Sure, but… did Dudley not even see her as enough of a girl for this to count? Was he looking forward to his first time grabbing a pair of tits when he first saw some poor slut go topless, leaving Harriet as nothing but his practice sex doll? Was she nothing but a tool so he could gropingly impress a girl to give more than her chest?
Humiliation kept the girl's face burning red, not understanding the strange feelings vibrating through her. Harriet tried to quiet those sensations, desperately rubbing her thighs together to no avail.
Harriet only realised the next ad break started when Dudley hiked up her dress. There was no honour, no buildup for the reveal of Harriet's drenched underwear. The thin white fabric was wet and see-through, sticking to the teen's lower lips like a second skin, hiding nothing. When Dudley started stroking Harriet's slick slit, it felt like the thin barrier wasn't even there.
Magnanimously giving Harriet some small mercy, Dudley didn't try to peel off the girl's ruined underwear, satisfied with rubbing, stroking, and pushing his fingers against them. More than once Harriet's lower lips were nearly parted, forceful fingers pressing hard against hot gates, and Dudley knew. How could he not know?
There was no way for Harriet to stop the strange mewling noises from her mouth now.
Terrified, Harriet felt her head grow fuzzy, not understanding what was going on. No one had told her, taught her, warned her about this. Waves built under Harriet's skin, sparks danced across her vision, the dull roar of her heartbeat hammering in her ears. Harriet closed her eyes to try and block it out.
That was a mistake.
With nothing else to focus on, it wasn't even halfway to the next ad break before Harriet broke. Scarred squeals slipped from her lips as Harriet's mind went blank. Dudley, for the first time, tore his attention from the TV to watch his toy break, to watch her convulse and cry, drenching his fingers with her pathetic climax.
What should have been a breathtaking thing to watch a young girl experience for the first time was contorted into a defiled, beautifully wretched thing.
Wiping his hands clean on Harriet's dress, Dudley returned to his show. Harriet's nude breasts heaved for breath in the open air, slick slit still visible through her ruined panties, clear climax leaking down her thighs as her body continued to spasm in the aftershock.
A toy left out after its owner lost interest.
It wasn't until Vernon loudly wrenched open the front door that Harriet's face lit up from vacant stupor to undiluted panic.
The door had already slammed shut by the time Harriet realised what its opening meant. Mocking chuckles snorted from Dudley as he watched his half-naked cousin scramble to be presentable in the time it took his dad to kick off his shoes. Well, as presentable as the freak ever was.
When Vernon peered into the living room, inside, he saw a dishevelled Harriet. Dress scruffy and crumbled, one strap halfway down her shoulder; at least the skittish teen's tits were covered as some small mercy. The girl looked nervous, unsightly, shifty…
In other words, the freak was her usually freakish self.
Grunting, Vernon wandled past the door into the kitchen, leaving the passage free for Harriet to dash upstairs and escape. Moments later the girl was back down, frantically searching for the bra Dudley stripped off her, hard nipples rubbing agonisingly against the fabric of her dress. Harriet managed to hide the garment behind her back, miraculously avoiding her uncle's beady eyes as the fridge closed.
Humiliating as it was, at least Harriet managed to retrieve her bra this time. Dudley decided to make a habit of keeping Harriet's underwear. Spoiled brat preferred his cousin walking around braless, sadistically smirking when he saw her hard nipples poking through the fabric, childishly waiting for someone else to notice like some sick prank. Harriet wondered if Petunia would find Dudley's stash while cleaning his room, would she be proud her boy was so far along seducing some slut?
When Petunia announced her precious Dudders was dating, colour Harriet surprised when it actually turned out to be true! Apparently, some blonde thought Dudley's allowance was enough to say yes to the fat fondler. The whole family celebrated (minus freaks, of course) with a meal out consisting of far too many courses.
Harriet could finally breathe, finally free.
Dudley bent Harriet over the kitchen counter the next day, yanked her panties down her legs, and shoved two pudgy fingers into her dry cunt. Never had Harriet played with her tight teen twat. Never had the witch's slender fingers explored her own soft lower lips. Never had the girl who lived even fancied a boy, let alone kissed one or gone so much further.
First to touch Harriet's bare breasts was Dudley. First to make Harriet moan and shudder in painful bliss was Dudley. Jamming his sausage fingers around the witch's wet walls, rough and careless, the first to explore Harriet's hot pink folds was Dudley.
Tears in her eyes, pathetic cries forced themselves from Harriet's lungs, fists clenched as pain radiated from between her legs. New agonising waves struck Harriet as Dudley swirled his fingers around her violated cunt, demanding to touch every hidden crevice inside his cousin's quivering quim. Just as Harriet's body started to react, pink pussy becoming slick for her violator's incestuous abuse, only then did Dudley act on his next terrible curiosity.
Cramming another two fingers into Harriet's tiny twat, this time from his free hand, Dudley stretched her open, not caring about Harriet's closed mouth, screaming displeasure. Pink pussy pulled painfully, inches wider than it should; ugly tears ran down Harriet's scrunched face as Dudley stared into her depths. It was like a child taking in his freshly torn open Christmas present. Dudley looked deeper into Harriet than anyone else ever would, and the spoiled brat just demanded more, pulling harder, spreading her wider to see every hidden sacred barrier.
It was almost a relief when Dudley went back to viciously finger fucking her virgin hole. What Dudley did to her was never strictly enjoyable. The boy carried more about playing with her like a toy instead of making sure she enjoyed it too. Sure, Dudley wanted to get better, wanted to know how to touch a girl, to make her squirm, but he didn't care how Harriet felt during the process. Emotionally, Harriet had never felt so degraded, so worthless, while physically, it felt like Dudley had torn her open.
Wet, violent schlopping almost drowned out Harriet's pained mewls. Harriet's soft lower lips were now stinging pink, radiating prickling agony, still stretched wide by Dudley's fat, pistoning fingers. Shaking and shuddering, droplets of traitorous arousal leaked down Harriet's smooth thighs, inviting more abuse, showing she deserved it.
The only small mercy was that Dudley couldn't get his sausage fingers too deep into Harriet's undersized pussy. Unfortunately, that just meant Dudley could finger fuck his cousin harder: stretching, abusing, ruining her virgin slit with vicious abandon. Savage pumps kept Harriet squealing, pained, writhing, breaking her down with no rest nor reprieve.
Harriet just wanted it to end.
But that wasn't going to happen. No matter how much Harriet cried and convulsed, there was only one way Dudley's fingers would leave her cunt. Only one thing would stop her cousin from defiling her tight teen pussy, stretching every virgin fold, hammering away her innocence and burning it into her memory.
Harriet had to enjoy it.
Just like the first time Dudley twisted and bruised her breasts, this would only end with another terrifying flash. Only when Dudley had the smug satisfaction of forcing a girl to her peak would he lose interest. Only when she was quivering, shattered, only then would Dudley leave her broken and used for anyone to see.
So Harriet closed her eyes and tried. By Merlin, she tried. For once, Harriet desperately wanted her body to betray her. Harriet wanted each shock of pleasure as Dudley's knuckles scraped against her clit to be amplified to overcome the stretching agony of his every thrust. No amount of hope would help though. For long minutes Harriet was used, thrust into rougher and faster, leaving her abused sex red and raw.
When something started to build in Harriet's stomach, it was like grabbing smoke. Wanting something, begging for it, only pushed it further and further away. Voice a sore whisper, finally a broken moaning scream heralded the end, tears of relief escaping with the quaking, shattering clenching of every muscle in Harriet's body.
Mocking laughter told Harriet what a humiliating sight she was squirting and slipping into a puddle of her own juices. Every cell in her body was burning. Harriet was left there, panties still around her ankles, with paper towels thrown at her to clean up her mess.
In her sock, Harriet felt her wand pressing against her skin, a worthless stick. Nothing she learned could help her. All of Harriet's lessons were worthless, nothing that could protect her. Dudley was treated to a view of Harriet's abused pink pussy, slit not quite closed as the slave mopped up her mess on her hands and knees.
That was the first time Dudley violated Harriet's virgin folds.
It wasn't the last.
Having a girlfriend to impress inspired Dudley. Multiple times a day, if Dudley was home and he could get away with it, he was knuckle-deep in his cousin's clenching heat. Sometimes they were alone, with nothing to hold back Dudley's savage explorations; Harriet left stripped and broken. When someone else was home it became a game, stolen touches, risky minutes of using her, Dudley kept pushing and revelled in it.
Thankfully, nothing was quite as wrong as the first finger fucking Harriet endured. Dudley did improve. The spoiled brat still demanded Harriet's body whenever he wanted, still roughly taking whatever part of her he wanted with uncaring roughness. At least now Harriet could feel more pleasure than pain, still feeling the violation, but each time Dudley learnt her body a little more and loved nothing more than breaking her.
Harriet wasn't sure what happened a week later. From Dudley's mumbling, it seemed like his girlfriend turned him down on something, or maybe she stood him up or was cheating on him! That last one was mean, but Harriet couldn't be blamed for stray thoughts when forced into no less than three mind-numbing climaxes a day, whether she wanted to or not.
It started like 'normal', Harriet clenching the kitchen counter with white knuckles and clenching around Dudley's fat fingers with wet cock milking heat. Harriet was well on her way to finishing, topless and moaning, when Dudley stopped, staring at her with a look Harriet learned to dread.
With dawning horror, chubby fingers on her bare shoulders pushed Harriet down to her knees. Dudley, with all the ceremony of a car crash, pulled out his half-hard rod, making Harriet jolt as it slapped onto her face. Frozen and cross-eyed, for long seconds Harriet just stared at the thick cock meat resting on her face, the smell burning her nostrils.
"Well freak?" Spat Dudley, looking down past his belly like she was an idiot for missing something obvious. "Get to it!"
Harriet… had no idea what to do.
This was the first time she'd even seen a boy's… cock. Already hard, it was clear Dudley knew what would happen long before Harriet was topless and on her knees, but that didn't mean she had any idea! The wizarding world wasn't as big on porn as the muggle one, and even if it was, Harriet wouldn't have looked! Reaching up, she… grabbed it? Eyes darting up to Dudley's smug face, that seemed to be the right move.
From what Harriet unfortunately overheard, she'd guess Dudley was about average, but she'd eat her quill if all boys were meant to be this thick! With her tiny hands, it was hard for Harriet to properly grip her cousin's length.
Rolling his eyes as all his dumb cousin did was squeeze his cock, Dudley took the initiative, reaching down and trapping Harriet's hands against his throbbing length. Rocking his hips, a groan escaped Dudley's mouth as he fucked his cousin's soft palms.
Harriet watched wide-eyed as the foreskin on Dudley's cock peeled back to reveal its engorged head. The pulsing, stinking cockhead thrust towards Harriet's face, stopping an inch away from her skin before pulling back. Groaning with each thrust, the message became clear to Harriet: squeeze, stroke, repeat. Stupid.
Embarrassed, cheeks red, Harriet tried to 'help' or at least do whatever Dudley trusted her to. It wasn't something Harriet wanted, but dispassionately used, each time she was played with like a toy ate away at her. Maybe some part of her, a primal biological part, wanted to please the sweaty, throbbing length between her fingers. It wasn't a part of her Harriet ever wanted, but broken as she was over the weeks, any part of her was part she'd latch onto.
It didn't help how close Dudley had left Harriet to release. Now, every pulse beneath her fingers did something to her. Out in the open air, painfully hard nipples jiggled with the rest of Harriet's bare chest as wank material while her hands we used to jerk off her cousin's cock. And Dudley noticed. After everything, Harriet couldn't bring herself to be angry as he stared at her chest; it was probably better than eye contact.
Dudley even briefly stopped stroking to crush one of her tits in his grip before forcing her hands to pleasure him faster and faster. Trying to block out the stench, Harriet's lips parted for air, only to taste it instead, not just because of the passive presence of the teen's unwashed cock.
Growling out, one slam forward of Dudley's hips splattered thick, pungent cum over his cousin's face. The first shot slapped across Harriet's soft lips and cute petite nose, staining her glasses white. Harriet's hands were trapped, making it hard to turn away, not that it mattered. What sticky cum didn't reach her hair or face ended up sprayed across her perky tits in a sick pearl necklace.
Days, probably weeks of backed-up jizz painted Harriet, disgustedly thick, leaving long, curdled streaks down the teen's soft skin. Dudley had saved up a virile load for his school sweetheart only to waste it defiling his family's freakish floozy. The last few drops of his release dribbled across Harriet's hands, gooey and sticking between her slender fingers.
Grabbing Harriet's discarded shirt, a few moments of cleaning Dudley's spent cock left the garment ruined before it was scrunched up and tossed at the equally cum stained girl it belonged to. Dudley wasted no time going back to watching TV. Left topless and dripping, mere moments later the famous 'Potter luck' reared its head as Harriet heard the front door open. Panicked, knowing that Vernon's first stop would be the kitchen, the only thing Harriet could think to do was escape out the back door, hoping no nosey neighbours would see the topless teen holding her ruined shirt against her bare breasts.
It turned out that shirt wasn't just cum stained but ripped by Dudley when all but tore it off his cousin. When Harriet did sneak back in, dashing by the living room door to Dudley's amusement, all she could do was hold the top closed and hope Vernon wasn't looking.
Dudley being satisfied with an inexperienced handjob lasted all of a day. Bored and filled with teenage hormones, 'girlfriend' down with the 'flu', Harriet was 'invited' to sit next to her cousin to watch TV. Dress pulled up, every part of Harriet's soft nude flesh was available for the rough grasping hands using her.
They sat there, curling fat fingers jammed in Harriet's cunt while her own slender digits stroked her blackmailer. Harriet tried to look anywhere but at the throbbing meat in her hands. What she couldn't do was stop her breathy moans or the unwilling spasms, stroking the ego of her user with every stolen reaction.
It was a game. A competition to see if Harriet could achieve something, to see if she was more than exercise for her 'ladykiller' cousin. Practised hands meant Harriet lost, gasping and crying, doubling over as lightning burned through her with violent ecstasy. Harriet's own hands did a poor job, further humiliating the useless freak as Dudley stood, taking his pleasure into his own hands.
Half-lidded eyes blurry, all Harriet could do was melt into the settee as Dudley eagerly jacked himself to her nubile nudity. Harriet was still recovering, head scarily fuzzy, when Dudley groaned and started spurting his seed over her flat stomach and smooth thighs. Potent jizz pooled between Harriet's closed thighs, sending shivers through the teen as thick liquid covered her slick slit, seeping warmth into her virgin folds.
Sitting next to his squirming cum covered toy, a frown crossed Dudley's face at the idea of ruining his favourite boxers with his cummy cockhead. A way to clean his member soon fell right into Dudley's lap… When he grabbed his cousin by her hair and forced her into his crotch. The small eep as Harriet was manhandled proved to be her greatest mistake, allowing Dudley to shove his half-hard cock straight into her warm wet chamber.
Instinctually, Harriet's tongue flicked across her cousin's sensitive cockhead, flooding his foulness across her taste buds. Crying out like a girl, cleaning his cock with the freak's mouth proved to be a stupid idea for Dudley, already pulsing back to hardness as he shoved her down further.
Eyes watering, desperate attempts to push up were useless as heavier hands kept Harriet choking on her cousin's thick rod. Dudley couldn't believe the sensation of Harriet's clenching throat around his cockhead and soft lips at his base. Chasing that high, careless, cruel facefucking kept Harriet's lungs burning as cock rammed down into the teen's heat at a brutal, gurgling pace.
It was the better part of a minute before Harriet managed to pull back, coughing and spluttering for breath. Tears running down her face, Dudley just rolled his eyes, grabbed more of Harriet's hair and forced her back down on his needy rod.
It was three more lung-burning, pain-filled sessions before Dudley got the hint and learned how far he could shove his cock into his cousin and not choke her half to death. Not that he kept to that standard when he began to cum, abusing the poor girl's raw throat harder than ever, holding her down as he unloaded straight into her empty stomach. Dribbles of seed leaked from Harriet's cock stretched lips as she drowned in thick, sticky semen. Droplets of escaped cum that Harriet, red-faced and tear-stained, would be forced to clean up quickly lest Dudley's softening cock got another second wind.
Forced to swallow, shudders echoed through Harriet's soul, the salty, syrupy liquid coating her throat, pooling in her stomach just feeling wrong. Pulling her dress down, a harsh slap of Harriet's backside was Dudley's way of getting her into the kitchen. While Dudley called his friends over, Harriet got to relive her early childhood slaving away in the kitchen.
All the boys who used to join Dudley in 'Harry hunting' seemed to come around. Harriet grilled, served drinks, made snacks, took the jeers and insults. All the while, Harriet hoped no one noticed the white trailing down her thighs, salty seed slowly dripping down her body, barely hidden by the thin fabric of her dress. It wasn't until hours later, with the boys leaving when Vernon arrived home, that Harriet managed to flee upstairs for a shower.
Water ran down her naked body, washing away the vestiges of her cousin's seed from her skin. Harriet bit her lip, hesitantly reaching down and sliding two fingers into her tight, wet heat. Under the warm spray of water, Harriet tentatively imitated how Dudley defiled her young sex with her own slender digits.
Perhaps by magic, or maybe it was something Harriet inherited from her bombshell of a mother, but Harriet's slick slit was as tight as ever. Like elastic returning to its original shape, the pink, quidditch-trained folds of Harriet's pussy made it hard for the girl to fit even a single finger inside herself. Squeaking, Harriet clamped a hand over her mouth, hoping she couldn't be heard over the water as she worked deeper into herself.
It was to clean herself. That was the excuse. To make sure none of Dudley seeped inside her virgin heat, Harriet did to herself what she had never tried before. It certainly wasn't for the enjoyment, for the shuddering near blackouts, for the spasms that nearly brought her to her knees. Whatever might have been there ebbed away as the memory of what went with these sensations invaded her mind. Dudley's fingers, the feel of his breath, the stink of his seed.
Snapping out of it, a frantic hand span the shower off, shakily wrapping a towel around herself. Harriet needed out of the damp heat.
Apparently, Harriet used up too much hot water; Dudley intercepting her on the dash between the bathroom and her room. The towel didn't last long against grasping hands.
Dudley had Harriet as naked as the day she was born, hands in her messy wet hair, cock in her clenching throat. When he finished, the fat slob made sure to stain his cousin. Face, tits, thighs, Harriet barely tasted any, not that she wanted to swallow any of the horrid syrup, hoping she never caught liking it. No, Dudley made sure to jerk his load over Harriet, knowing another shower would be too suspicious, knowing she couldn't even wash her face until he was done stewing in his bath.
So Harriet sat there, leaning against her bed, naked, freshly face fucked, refusing the burning need between her legs. The light from the bathroom faded, and Harriet kept sitting there with cum covering her face. Through the wall, Harriet listened to her aunt get rammed by her walrus husband, bed creaking while Harriet waited.
Apparently, it wasn't just Harriet listening; a door opened, heavy footsteps heading towards the bathroom, only to turn at the last second. Harriet looked up to see Dudley's silhouette, cock swinging out of his boxers as she sat precisely where she was last time she choked down the length. In the dark, with their relatives sleeping a room away, now Harriet glucked down her cousin's length again.
Obviously tired, it didn't take long for Dudley to choke his fleshlight into draining another of his loads as the dumb slut drooled over her nude tits. Bubbles of cum covered Harriet's lips, breasts, and cute little nose before Dudley went back to bed, ignoring his unresponsive, used cumrag.
Still, Harriet waited.
...In the early hours of the morning, a girl finally stood up. Careless of the nudity most boys would kill for pictures of, slow strides took Harriet to the shared bathroom. One late-night piss would lead her to getting used again or worse, caught as a whore by her other relatives, but Harriet didn't care. For the longest of times, all Harriet did was stare at the mirror, moonlight making her cousin's cum glow on her defiled skin, dribbling down her chin to pool between her perky breasts.
Not wanting to leave evidence, Harriet's fingers gathered her cousin's seed, not risking leaving behind cummy toilet paper.
Not wanting to wake up anyone, Harriet dared not run a tap, instead licking up every drop of incestuous, syrupy jizz.
Not wanting to throw up, Harriet grimaced, feeling the sticky liquid paint cover her throat, pool in her stomach, saltiness staining her taste buds.
This was Harriet's life now. It wasn't going to be the last load the girl who lived swallowed. Harriet's pleasure was forgotten now that Dudley could use his cousin's soft lips. Now the fat brat didn't even need to stop watching TV to get off, having Harriet on her knees, head in his lap while his important shows kept his attention.
That's what Harriet's slurping, bobbing efforts were worth. No matter how shamefully well Harriet did in blowing her cousin, it wasn't worth turning off the TV; Harriet wasn't good enough, wasn't worth it.
Gradually, Harriet's gag reflex gave up as the teen tried to get her cousin's thick length to explode faster down her desperate throat. While Dudley got to feel orgasmic, pissing cum into his pathetic freak's stomach, all Harriet got was a cum dribbling onto her nude tits and a tear-stained face. Pulling her dress straps up to cover her defiled nudity, Harriet walked away with her head down, knowing it wasn't the last time.
Dudley got handsy through the day, grabbing handfuls of her tits while people were just a room away. Usually the fat fuck didn't even stop talking to his guests, giving Harriet an ass-rippling spank as a goodbye present when her drenched cunt was on the verge of exploding. Until Harriet got back on her knees, it only got worse. The hornier walrus junior got the more marks his rough hands left through her dress. It had been a while since Dudley stole the last of her bras, letting her cousin grope her tender assets directly through the thin fabric of her summer dresses. Unfortunately, it was the same case for Harriet's commando cunt beneath her skirt, cursing every tickling breeze.
When it got too much for Dudley's puny patients, it didn't take long for loud, gulking face fucking to milk a load into his teenage whore. Harrriet wondered if Dudley's slutty girlfriend would dump him when he treated her like he treated her soft cock sheath lips.
After a month of 'service', something new finally happened.
Harriet got to feel like a proper witch for the first time since Hogwarts broke up for summer. Pity it was because a dementor attacked.
Sitting in a park, Harriet was enduring the jeers of Dudley and his friends. At least they weren't 'Harry hunting' anymore; after a decade the growing boys didn't think hitting a girl was fun anymore, wanting to do other things with girls now. None of them thought of doing those things with Harriet though. None of them but Dudley.
All too soon, excuses were made, 'had to get the runt home'.
While the other teens laughed their way to the shops, none looked back to notice the bulge tenting their friend's jeans. Although, to be fair, what boys looked at their friends that way? Maybe they would notice where their friend's hand was though. Maybe they'd notice Harriet's resigned look, knowing what she'd be doing next. Maybe they'd see Harriet's lips part in a hitched breath, shuddering as her cousin's hand squeezed her firm ass while shoved down the backside of her jeans.
No panties, of course; they were already stolen by Dudley in the morning when he first shoved his cock between Harriet's smooth thighs.
Then the cold came