Tommy, Son of a Dark Lord

This is a little bit of a sticky piece. I only write something like this when I need to clear out all the squicky stuff that builds up and keeps me from working on serious things.
This would take place over the course of the Deathly Hallows, just after Harry has gotten a hold of Draco’s wand and escaped.
The Dark Lord is a bit OOC, or at least even more evil and demented than Ms. Rowling made him.
I wrote it out and had never intended to post it, but if you are reading it, I guess I changed my mind.
If you can’t deal with some of the posted warnings, (ie. Scat, Watersports, AB, Abuse) please back out and move on. This is not for the meek of heart.
Oh, and this is not an M-preg, it just looks like one - for a bit.


Chapter One: On Being Born

The Dark Lord stared down at the curled up boy on his bed and he smirked wickedly.
“You see, it can be punishment, or reward for you, young Malfoy. It is really only a matter of how much you manage to please me.” the wizard said, his eyes staring into space distractedly. “I never had a son, thanks to that fool of a women getting herself thrown into Azkaban just after I had impregnated her. But, I find that I want to experience it, just the same.” Tom Riddle mocked the young man as Draco curled even tighter around himself.
The cruciatus curse had only been employed for a brief matter of moments, but his limbs felt the lingering effects in ripples of pain and throbbing muscles. Voldemort had effectively immobilized him.
“Now, to start, my son must be born.” The crazed man said, waving his wand and glaring at the blond boy.
The world swirled around them and Draco was lifted from where he had fallen when He-who-must-not-be-named had turned on him moments before, and a constriction enveloped him, holding him tighter in the fetal position he had unconsciously adopted.
He opened his eyes to find himself wrapped inside of a bubble of pink, totally naked and suspended upside-down. He was trapped and could barely move as the thing began to fill with a strange thick fluid.
Words filtered through to his brain as panic threatened.
“You will be able to breath and it is only until birth begins. Patience, my little one. Daddy will be waiting, too.” Voldemort said from near his head. The fluid continued to rise and he couldn’t help but squirm in his prison.
Outside the bubble, Tom Riddle watched and smiled. This was even more fulfilling than when he had raped Narcissa the day before or forced the boy’s father into copulation just this morning.
He had enchanted his own body to feel the effects of Draco’s movements as well as his breathing and heartbeats, as if the thing were inside of him, growing and living in a mock pregnancy, as it were.
The Dark Lord stripped himself naked and stretched out on the bed below the dangling orb, his own middle distended in empathy and his cock rock hard in excitement.
Voldemort held it in one hand as he rubbed his other over the protuberance and watched the effects on the actual oval.

Draco felt a new pressure as something seemed to stroke along his back, warming him there and massaging gently. Another feeling came in the tap of something near the back of his head.
The liquid had filled the bubble and his natural fears had caused him to hold his breath, but soon he had succumbed and the breath drawn was like a cool mountain breeze. He had then ceased this futile exercise. It seemed he was safe here for now, so he relaxed as best he could in the tight confines.
As he took stock of his predicament, he found that the Dark Lord had thought of everything. He was aware of a tube, attaching to his navel, that seemed to be staving off any feeling of hunger or need to eliminate wastes.
Draco was glad that he wouldn’t find himself breathing fluid tainted with his own urine.
The stroking along his back became more insistent and he instinctively moved away, pushing with his elbow and turning slightly in his confines.
The Dark Lord chuckled and Draco’s prison wiggled around him in response.
This was beyond weird, it was freaky.
Soon, the exhaustion of his day, after the experiences he’d had, overcame him and unconsciousness took hold. Not before he heard the sound of his tormentor laughing lightly, “I just love to feel you moving, my own little baby.”
Voldemort continued to chuckle as he touched the new protuberance on his belly, Draco’s elbow he was sure, and his other hand sped up its work, bringing him to his climax as he thought about the boy in his ‘womb’.

Now, I know this works, so if there is anyone interested, I want to hear it. I think this story is interesting, but maybe I'm just prejudiced.