The Squeeze.

Draco sat in Filch’s office by his desk with a look of sheer terror on his face. His ankles were crossed, tucked under his seat, knees pressed tightly together, and his clammy hands were gripping each other tensely.

Seated behind the desk was Filch, lecherously grinning at Draco, a grubby, bony hand stroking over Mrs. Norris’ back as she huddled on the desk top, staring at Draco unblinkingly. Standing to the side of the desk was Mad Eye Moody, leering down at Draco, hunched over haggardly.

“Well, well,” Filch finally said in a sneer after a few moments of silence, stroking down the length of Mrs. Norris’ back again slowly. “About time you came by my office.”

“Why am I here?” Draco asked in a trembling voice, glancing from Filch to Moody and back again anxiously. He had not come of his own accord; Draco had been snagged in the halls by the scruff of his collar by Moody and dragged to Filch’s office, kicking and protesting in a high-pitched squeal.

“Shut yer face,” Moody growled, hastily gouging his mottled hand into his bulky, tattered garbs and yanking out his wand.

Draco paled at seeing the wand, remembering the last time that wand was pointed at him, when he was transformed into a ferret and made to bounce down the hall. He instantly dashed his hands to the armrests of his chair and clawed at them, staring wide-eyed at the aged, lacquered shaft. “Don’t—Don’t hurt me or—“

“I said, shut yer face!” Moody growled again, jabbing the wand at Draco, to which Draco let out a squeak and jolted in his seat.

“Calm yourself, Moody” Filch drawled, placing his hands on his desk and pushing himself up. He fiddled with his filthy trench coat buttons as he sauntered around the desk, moving to stand behind Draco. “We don’t want to scare the boy, Alastor,” he added, curling his wrinkly lips up into a grotesque smirk and placing his hands on Draco’s shoulders.

Draco tensed up and winced at the feel of Filch’s hands upon him. He caught a whiff of his repugnant stench and wrinkled his nose up in distaste, watching Moody warily all the while.

“We might as well get to it now, then, before he does a runner,” Moody gruffly replied, taking a staggering few steps towards Draco, his wand still poised like an accusing finger at the Slytherin student.

“D-do… Do what?” Draco asked nervously, sitting straighter in his chair, leaning as far back from the wand as he could. His eyes darted from the wand to the man’s distorted, disfigured face and back down again. He gulped nervously. There was a feeling of dread churning in his gut; something bad was going to happen.

“Nothing, my boy, nothing,” Filch said in a sly tone, patting his shoulder.

“Then… Then wh-why am I here?” The feel of Filch’s hands upon him made Draco shudder, knowing that someone so unctuous and festering as Filch was besmirching his clothing with his touch. He could almost feel the germs wiggling about on his shoulders.

“He’s asking too many questions,” Moody growled, taking another step in towards Draco. “Hold him tight, Argus.”

Draco took in a panicked breath as he felt Filch’s spindly fingers dig hard into his shoulders, pinning him back against the seat. His grey eyes widened as Moody moved in closer to him, swallowing with a loud gulp. “Please… What… Wh-what are you…?”

“Got him, Argus?”

“Aye.”

A nasty smile curled up on Moody’s face, and he suddenly jabbed the wand forward and bellowed out the same hex he had used on Draco when he transformed him into a ferret. Draco had no time to scream or even attempt to break free – with a bright flash, he suddenly felt his body shrink and the room grow much larger around him. Strong hands seized him around the waist and lifted him up.

“Well done, Argus,” Moody said in a gravely voice, pocketing the wand in his tattered garbs again. “You prepare yourself?”

“That I did,” Filch replied, turning the white ferret around to face him, leering at it as he watched its whiskers twitching and quaking furiously.

“Give him to me, then,” Moody ordered gruffly, as he staggered towards Filch and held his hands out. Draco kicked his ferret legs in a frenzy as he felt himself being handed over to Moody, letting out loud squeaks and wriggling his lithe body frantically, to no avail. Moody’s hands were just as strong, if not stronger, than Filch’s as they closed around him.

“Stop yer squirming,” Moody muttered to the ferret, bringing Draco close to his face and training both his normal and magical eye on him. Draco squeaked again and wrestled in the man’s grip, staring up at Moody’s mutilated face leering down at him in terror. He wanted to ask what was going to happen to him, but could only emit more squeaks.

While Moody held Draco-the-ferret, Filch made his way over to his desk and curled his fingers into his grubby coat. He pulled it from himself, tossing it carelessly on the desk and then yanked the tails of his grimy shirt from his trousers. Filch glanced back at Moody and Draco as his calloused fingers undid the buttons on his shirt. “Can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Alastor,” Filch spoke as he pulled the shirt from himself. He dropped it on the desk and then worked on undoing his trousers once he had toed his shoes off.

Moody’s magical eye roamed from the squirming ferret to Filch and watched the grotty, slimy man undress while his normal eye stayed trained on Draco. “Not a problem, Argus. I’ve been wanting to teach this little brat a lesson, anyway.” Draco squeaked again and circled his tiny ferret legs once more as he tried to scratch at Moody’s hand with his claws. “Stop it,” Moody lazily growled at the white ferret. “No use trying to escape, you bloody pest.”

Filch dropped his pants to the floor with a rustling sound, pulled his stained underwear from his hips to reveal his turgid, grubby-looking prick, and stepped out of them, standing completely naked. His body was sinewy, pale and covered in liver spots, accompanied with festering little scabs over his body from lack of showering. His lips were pulled into a gloating sneer, his stringy hair hung limp around his wrinkled face, and he said to Moody, “Where do you want me go?”

Holding the ferret up higher, he watched Draco squirm and writhe in his large hands and then trained his magical eye on Filch and growled back, “Lean over the desk.”

Grinning at the ferret, Filch nodded and turned around, bent at the waist and leaned his chest upon it, exposing his bony backside to Moody.

“Hold yer cheeks open,” Moody commanded as shuffled on his feet to turn and face the bent over Filch and he lowered Draco from him to peer at the man. At his order, Filch obligingly moved his dirty hands to his behind, curled his fingers into his saggy, gaunt buttocks and pried them apart, revealing his prepared, wrinkly anus to Moody.

Draco caught sight of this, let out another squeak and he circled his legs faster. His ferret tail lashed about frantically like a propeller. He tried to screech a protest as he wiggled and tried to work his way out of Moody’s strong grip, only to be clamped more firmly between the man’s claw-like hands.

“Very good, Argus,” Moody growled, and he began to make his way over to the bent man.

“You have no idea how much I’ve fantasised about doing something like this,” Filch breathed from his position on the desk while he craned his neck to peer at Moody.

“Don’t mention it,” Moody grumbled when he reached Filch, studying Filch’s open orifice and then the ferret. Lifting Draco to his face, he held the creature close, peering at Draco, and murmured toxically at him, “Behave yerself.” Ignoring the loud squeaking from the ferret, Moody lowered Draco down to Filch’s backside. One hand grasped the ferret’s body, the other around his neck to keep his head trained forward.

Draco twitched and convulsed as he tried in vain to get out of Moody’s grip and he wriggled his body as hard as he could. As his ferret snout was aimed closer and closer towards Filch’s anus, he could smell it; the stench was overpowering. It reeked of sweat – a tell tale sign that Filch had not showered in a number of days - accompanied with a strong scent of excrement, as though he had not long been to the toilet and had not cleaned himself properly. He squeaked louder; his stomach lurched dangerously at the horrific, repulsive sight of Filch’s besmirched, wrinkled sphincter. Draco could see streaks of faeces swathed over his anus. His beady eyes were trained on the puckered, gaping hole in terror. It looked like a chasm, a void; a black hole that he would be sucked into, never to escape again.

“Stop squirming, boy,” Moody growled, and nudged the ferret’s snout directly into the opening of Filch’s sphincter.

Filch let out a loud wanton moan the moment the furry face touched his sensitive hole, arching his hips up to welcome the creature in further.

Draco’s ferret legs circled faster as his face was pushed into the gaping hole, his whiskers violently twitching, trying as hard as he could to shake his head free from Moody’s death grip. It was no use. Moody quickly made sure Draco was restricted from all movement, feeling the man’s hands clamp down over his ferret paws to stop him from scramming Filch.

“Easy, easy. In yer go,” Moody muttered, cocking his head to the side to watch the ferret’s head slide deeper into Filch’s festering chasm.

“Oooooh, yeah,” Filch rasped, curling his fingers deeper into his buttocks, pulling them open wider and pushing back against the invasion, hissing as the creature intruded. “Ooooh, god. Ooooh, yeah.”

Pushed deeper into Filch’s repugnant hole, darkness closed over Draco’ eyes, the stench of his passage overwhelming him. He felt himself being pushed in deeper, the muscles of Filch’s cavity clamping down on him, rippling as they fought against Draco, trying to push him out. Everything became muffled; his breathing became quickly restricted and he felt like he would very soon pass out.

Filch rolled his hips back harder as Moody pushed the ferret in deeper, working him in slowly. “Oooooh, god,” Filch moaned, squeezing his eyes shut and furrowing his sweaty brow.

“Yer liking that?” Moody asked in a snarl, pushing Draco up deeper.

“God, yes!” Filch wheezed back.

Pushed in deeper, Draco emitted weak, terrified squeaks, the muscles that clamped down on him like a vice, feeling them pulsate and massage his body rhythmically. This was hell. He would rather be dead than up Filch’s arse. He would rather be serving detention. He would rather be bounced down the hall as a ferret by the sadistic Moody than be up Filch’s arse. Anything, but Filch’s arse. Feeling himself worked in deeper, almost his entire body now sheathed within Filch’s cavity, his snout met the head of the foul man’s passage, and he felt a spasm undulate around him.

Filch cried out and bucked up against Moody’s hands, his cock jumping the moment his prostate was touched by the furry creature’s wet nose, and he almost came then and there all over the desk. “Ohhh, god!” he gasped.

Moody grinned and thrust Draco up deeper again, to which Filch cried out once more. His whole body shuddered, a sheen of sweat covering his rank body. “Again!” he croaked in a husky voice, clawing at his buttocks more. Moody complied and pushed the ferret in deeper.

Draco was beginning to suffocate. He began to squirm and tremble, wriggling as much as he could, which was making Filch cry out in pleasure. Desperately, he writhed inside the restrictive chasm and let out another weak squeaking sound.

The movement within him was sending Filch towards his peak fast, and at the last few desperate squirms of the ferret, his wrinkly, hairy balls and his cock seized up and began to spew out strings of pungent milky cum over his desk and gaunt stomach. His whole body jerked and quaked in the force of the orgasm.

The walls around Draco clamped down and began to spasm in Filch’s release, pulsing and quivering against his furry body. Draco truly began to panic. He was going to die in there. Desperately, Draco began to try and work his way backwards, which only proved to extend Filch’s orgasm, making it stronger and more powerful.

“Ohhhh god!” Filch cried out as the last of his orgasm hit and then sent his body into post-orgasmic euphoria, his whole body buzzing with pleasure. He slumped against the desk, sweating, muttering, “God…. God, Moody.”

Moody grinned and grasped the ferret’s tail. He began to yank the shivering creature out of Filch\'s spent whole, which made the man gasp and tremble more. “C’mon, you,” Moody growled at Draco, sliding the ferret out of Filch completely, catching his body in his palm when he flopped out.

Draco lay there in his palm stunned for a moment, completely covered in questionable brown streaks, shivering and shaking. He took in fresh breath gratefully and regained his bearings before suddenly squirming and wriggling frantically in Moody’s hand. He squeaked loudly and glanced up at Moody, staring in terror at the man’s distorted face.

“S’pose I’d better let yer get back to yer Common Room,” Moody gruffly said to Draco. At that, he turned from Filch and carelessly tossed Draco on to the floor. The ferret landed with a splat on the stone surface, dazed, before scrambling his tiny feet and scurrying away. Lazily, Moody reached into his garbs and pulled out his wand, flicked it and summoned the counter curse, which instantly transformed Draco back into his human form. Draco scurried to the corner of the room and cowered. His blonde hair, pale face and lithe body were covered in brown streaks. The Slytherin huddled in the corner of the room, clutching his stomach, ready to vomit at any moment.

Clomping over to Draco, Moody gave his wand another lazy flick and growled, “Scourify,” at the terrified boy to rid him of the offensive marks. Moody then staggered over to the door and pulled it open, jabbed his wand at Draco and growled, “Out.”

Without hesitation, Draco made a dash for the door, only to be seized by the scruff of his collar. Moody pulled him close and muttered dangerously, “One word of this, and I’ll just stick yer right back up there. Maybe leave yer up there to die. Understood?”

Draco nodded wildly, swallowing back a wave of vomit.

Moody abruptly let go of Draco and pushed him hard out into the corridor and slammed the door shut behind him. He then faced Filch and staggered back over to the man to help him clean up.

Draco ran as fast as his shaky legs could take him from the office, clutching his mouth with one hand, the other clawing at his churning stomach.