The Mr. P. Perfect Collection

Chapter Two: A Visit to the Bestiary

 
The anchovy was oily and warm in his hands, carrying with it the faint odor of rot from the thin can it had come neatly stacked in. Argus fixed the tiny fish's dead, glassy eyes with a ferocious glare, then placed a kiss on its slick little head. He leaned back, and with a curse that was whispered like a prayer, slid the fish inside him.

Slowly, rhythmically, he clenched the muscles of his anus and waited for the soft velvet feet of Mrs. Norris to come out of the darkened corridors of the school. With long cultivated patience, Filch waited for her hot little mouth to seek and discover anew the fish's tail that twitched invitingly in a grotesque parody of life from the tight, hairy opening of his ass.
 
* * *
 
As a man, Sirius Black was rather fond of strawberry jelly. As Padfoot, however, the situation was entirely different. When he wandered into the kitchen that afternoon his senses were assailed by the stuff, his nose filling with the sweet scent, his mouth dripping in anticipation. The huge dog lumbered over to the source of the luscious smell, straining his eyes and lamenting the loss of his sharp, colorized vision--it was the one sense left lacking once he had transformed himself.

All such human thoughts were lost when the sticky substance touched his rough tongue for the first time. Urged on by the raptuous flavor, Padfoot slurped on the spoon messily, rolling his eyes back in his sleek black head. His heightened senses detected another flavor, masked in a moist cloud of strawberry--wet, bitter, salt on his palate. As the jelly melted away under his careful ministrations the flavor, not unenjoyable in and of itself, became stronger and muskier. Closing his eyes, Padfoot focused on the seemingly inexhaustible flavor of the large . . . spoon, was it? Perhaps a polished wooden one, or the handle of one. It no longer mattered to the canine connoisseur.

It was only as he finally opened a well of delicious fluid from the spoon's tip that he remembered his other senses. For that was the voice of Severus Snape resounding in his ears, screaming his name.
 
* * *
 
The unicorn was being most unreasonable about the whole business. Hagrid was certain of this. Certainly, its flanks were soft and warm as a daydream and glimmered silver in the moonlight, but that didn't give it license to be so ill-tempered and difficult. Hagrid crouched low and reached in deep, thankful that the darkness of night and the Forbidden Forest concealed his undignified orders, even if they were from Dumbledore himself.

"Relax, relax!" He hissed urgently to the gorgeous creature that was currently very occupied in trying to bury a slim silver hoof into his gut. "We're almost there lad . . ."

Hagrid grunted under his breath and thanked his lucky stars for his tough and trusty dragonhide gloves. And the entire bottle of "Personal Magick!" Wizarding Lubricant for helping him get his fist and half of his arm all the way up the squealing unicorn's ethereal and shimmering ass.

"The PROSTATE!" He bellowed triumphantly, reaching what he had been seeking for the last half an hour. He slammed his fist inside with a renewed, savage vigor. "See how you like THIS, me beauty!"

The unicorn squeals came faster and more intense, until finally, with the whicker of a broken beast, the unicorn thrust itself forward. Its pearlescent hide shone brilliantly and it came, shuddering, into the beaker that had been stuck over the head of its fat erection with no small effort from Hagrid. Sparkling violet semen splashed into the green glass bottle, and the groundskeeper fingered the creature's hot core for a few more moments, drawing out the last remnants of its orgasm.

Finally Hagrid pulled his arm out from the unicorn's luminously rimmed hole, then pulled the bottle from its softening cock, the beautiful animal no longer resisting his touch. He corked it with relish and nodded his thanks to the now strangely affectionate unicorn. It was only on his way back to the castle, once he passed another creature of the same kind docilely nursing her new foal in a quiet thicket that Hagrid realized that maybe, just maybe, he had taken Albus' order to "obtain a vial of Unicorn's Milk" the wrong way.