Star Dusted

It was a quiet dark night. The thunder was making loud "BANGS" outside the small tool shed of the Weasley. Harry Potter was all alone tonight and wanted to enjoy the life of a mature sorcerer for once. All of the Weasley family went out on vacation and there was no more space left for him in the magic Wanabago of Mr.Weasley. So they had no other choice but to leave him there to guard the house against the pixies that were roaming around recently. Harry did not argue at all when they told him the bad news. In fact, this little ass of Potter had an idea in his mind. Tonight he will try to turn a dead squirrel into Marilyn Monroe using a decoy spell and an old bra that once belong to her. He bought it on e-Bay from some Jimmy-K69 guy. He also used some tips from Dumbledoor to cast the decoy in an already horny mood, ready to fuck with any living (or half-living) thing. So Potter began the spell using his magic wand. He was feeling a bit stressed. This was the first time he was going to have sex with something close to a real woman. He was not quite confident of his skills in the bed and this was putting a bit of pressure on him. Worst of it, tonight, he would have to combat on a harsh and rude battlefield; the tool shed of the Weasly’s was not designed to be a love nest at all. The floor was made of cold tiles of cement; the walls were made of old pieces of wood, rough, torn and full of shards. The roof was half there, leaving big falls of rain cascading on the ground. If he had to choose, he would have been inside the house, but Mrs. Weasley cursed the house with a fuck-block spell. This was to prevent her to have more children. Harry learned that when he tried to score on Jenny 2 years ago. He found his balls magicaly burned for weeks only because he thought of her naked on the bed. This was surely a bloody efficient curse to use. But outside the house, in the shed, there was nothing to fear. This area was safe. He once felt on the 2 twin brothers Weasly playing "Adam, Eve and Adam" with one of the little daughters’ of Corporal Schwartz, a far uncle of Mr. Weasley. That was a charming memory that put Harry back on track to the fuck quest of Mont Monroe. Harry took off all of his clothes and layed on the floor, in an almost dry place. He was feeling the cold cement tiles biting his back and butt. He tried to secure a bit of the floor using his body heat before continuing. He made a Petronius spell to keep himself in the good mood. He never knew why, but he always felt an obscure attraction toward the deers. Maybe the fur, maybe the four leg position or maybe both... But one thing was sure; he loved to watch to his pratonus. Now the cement was a bit "less cold" then before. He took the bra and placed it over his head. "Wingardium Leviosa!!!" screamed Potter between two thunder strikes. The bra was floating over his head! He then tried to imagine the smooth curves of Marilyn's body trough this naughty little piece of clothing. He still could not believe he paid 60 000 gold coins from his family treasure to buy it. He could have paid so many whores with this amount of money, but in a magical world, laws are different. Magic spells could have retrace him back in and put him in jail. And in fail, like would say Uncle Sirius, "This isn't fun". So Harry grab the dead squirrel with his left hand and then target the ass of the beast with his magic wand. They were carefully aligned. At this moment, he remembered the words of Dumbledoor gave him when he payed his buddy the toll to learn the magic spell:


"When you will say the spell, insert the word "Lubricum" at the end. This will give to the spawned one, a really naughty mood. But keep in mind you will be exposed when you'll be playing nipple pinching with your summon. Like your magic wand will be deep in his or her ass, you will have no protection at all!"


Harry was ready to take the risk. Fuck with a dead star could just be awesome!!! And after all, it was not such a big risk at all. The only big thing to deal with actually is this Voldemor. But, statistically, he calculated he only encountered him once a year and this is always during charismas. Right now Harry was straight in the middle of a big summer storm. There was nothing to fear. So Harry took a deep breath and inserted his wand in the dead critter's ass while screaming out loud enough to cover the thunder:

"Creature that is now dead! I command you to transform into who this piece of clothing belongs! Mutatos Deadia Femela Lubricum!"


At this precise moment, a lighting washed away all shadows inside the tool shed, revealing only a naked boy laying on the floor on which hovered a dead squirrel. Then there was this long thunder roll that seemed to last forever, like a tribal drum beat on which the dead beast began to twitch and grow weirdly. This freakish dance really creep the shit out of Harry who was staring paralized to this horror. After a few seconds he realized the former animal began to take a human shape and filled the bra of the dead star. He recovered thinking Marilyn was only too few claws, pound, inches and tail transformation from him. He began to see the belly appearing, and the growing legs, and the arms! He took a look at the hands that were wide and a bit furry. Then the transformation stopped. This is when Harry realized how big of trouble he was. Those wide and furry hands were still wide and furry, and this slightly fat torso was not to the Marilyn he tried to summon. Inside the bra, there was nothing less than Captain Kirk with a boner from Hell, ready to rape trough steal plating if necessary. Harry tried to cover himself with what he could but he only put a hand on an old empty bag of the floor. Captain Kirk was standing just before Harry, with his hand placed on the hip, like those classic superman poses. Behind him there was flashes of light from the storm, just to enhance the awful castratic show Potter had casted on himself. Harry was no longer a man when compared to the Enterprise’s captain. Even the shadow of Kirk was looking like in the mood to fuck with other shadows. Harry did not have any time to think of an escape plan that he found himself under the manly control of Kirk, with his head covered by the floor bag he found on the floor. How can he be turned in a so tamed condition in a few moments? This Kirk was sure willing! Potter was used to have bad time with some teachers at Hogward in view to learn defensive spells, but none of them had this "power". This was surely a pain in the ass for this poor Harry. Captain Kirk was riding the afflicted Potter like if it was a little girl. Harry tried to call for help, but the loud thunder and the "Yeah Uhura Bitch!!!" of Kirk covered his extinguished voice. After an excessive long moment, the young griffindor Champion was nothing more than an half conscious body lying once again on the cold cement floor. On his side, Kirk was putting back his clothes on his sweat covered body and calling back for the Entreprise.


"Scotty, two to beam up" said Kirk.


Potter vanished with the lubric Captain in a fancy blue FX with a nice psychotronic sound. The rain was now falling hard on the empty tool shed of the Weasley.