Chapter 1
Chapter Text
Snape ran a finger over Harry’s pucker and smirked as it involuntarily spasmed. The pink hole was clenched tightly and it quivered as he pushed the very tip of his finger inside, easily pushing past the resistance. He heard a muffled whimper and ignored it in favor of picking up the plug that rested on the tray beside him.
It was green, and Snape had chosen it to not only match Slytherin’s house color but also Harry’s eyes. While the plug was not long by any means, a mere 3 inches, it had a formidable width. The bulb of the plug was made of a specially condensed rubber that could easily expand up to five inches in diameter, though he doubted Harry could stretch anywhere near that, right away at least. The notch was ¾” and the base flared out with a decorative ‘SS’ engraved in it. He ran his thumb over his initials and looked up at the young man.
Harry was lying on the hospital bed, sunshine streaming out of the windows onto his naked skin. His arms were above him, bound together at the wrist and fastened to the metal headboard. He was twisted onto his left hip, and the young man’s right leg was pulled up and away from the left that was tied to the footboard, fixed to the bed rail at the knee and calf, spreading his thighs wide enough to make things easier for Snape. A green gag, matching the plug in Snape’s hand, was filling Harry’s mouth and covering his lips, wrapping around his black hair to join together at the back of his head. The soft glow of Harry’s quidditch-tanned skin stood out against the white sheets of the infirmary, and Snape stood unmoving, fixing the sight into his mind.
Harry looked at him as best he could without the aid of his glasses — something Snape would fix in the near future — with clear fear and not a small bit of hysteria. The young man was trying to fight back the tremors that were slowly overtaking him; and Snape stood there, running his thumb over the initials on the plug that would soon be in the boy on the bed.
The plug was gently placed back onto the tray, and a jar of oil was picked up. Snape unscrewed the cap with deft hands and set it down by the plug. With his left hand, he held the jar and dipped his right pointer and middle finger down into the specially brewed oil. Snape had spent weeks of his precious time in his lab developing this very recipe for an occasion such as this.
The oil was a hybrid of several types of lube that he had discovered over the years. Each type had advantages that he found helpful but also drawbacks that left him a bit frustrated. Different types would work for different situations, and not one would work long-term. So Snape had done what he did best, broken down the components of the problem, worked around them and found an alternative.
This oil was that alternative, and Snape congratulated himself on its success. It was extremely long lasting, needing a thorough cleaning to be completely rid of it, sufficiently slippery, non- irritating, it retained heat very well and was non-staining. It also had a medium grade relaxant and calming agent mixed in to prevent unnecessary damage as well.
He rubbed the oil between his two fingers and then coated them again along with the ring finger. When he had enough on his appendages, Snape placed the jar on the nightstand to his left, still within easy reach, and reached forward to caress Harry’s pucker again.
Harry jerked, his body trying to move away, and made another muffled sound of distress. Snape placed his left hand on Harry’s right hip and looked up into the young man’s terror-filled eyes. He started to rub small circles on both the hip and opening, waiting a moment until the teen started to tug away in earnest, and then pushed the tip of his pointer past the clenching muscles and back into the hole there.
Harry yelped and jerked at his restraints harder, pulling futilely at the bed rail and headboard. He yanked his hips and Snape held onto him, holding him in place as his finger slowly pushed upwards inside the boy. The oil eased the way as he slid up and up until the digit was securely lodged as far as his potions-stained knuckles would allow.
The youth’s heat was blazing on the one finger, and Snape pulled back, twisting slightly as he did so. When the tip was all that remained inside, he slid it forward and felt the passage clench down around him, trying to expel him from somewhere it thought he wasn’t meant to be. As Snape pulled the appendage out and pushed in again, he thought to himself that Harry’s body was young and was easily confused about what was allowed within it. Snape would make sure Harry understood that there was nothing to fight against when it was Snape that was inside him, in any and all forms. Harry would learn that anything Snape did to him, or put in him, was safe and belonged there.
Being one of the few adults that kept a close eye on the Gryffindor from first-year onward, Snape knew for a fact that the young man was still a virgin. While he may have been interested in Miss Cho Chang and even Generva Weasley, encounters with both females were always uncomfortable and awkward for the male student and never passed beyond juvenile hand-holding and a few clumsy kisses. Harry had never felt comfortable enough with his body or fame to allow anyone to touch him in a deeply sexual manner. Snape had found it humorous to begin with but had begun to track the situation with reluctant pity as time went by. Apparently, Harry Potter, amusingly enough, was a bit of a prude.
When Harry’s muscles were loose enough, ignoring the constant jerking and clenching of the teen, Snape aligned two fingers with the younger male’s cavity and pressed upwards into the heat there. Snape held Harry’s hip tighter as Harry gave a stifled yell and jerked frantically against his hold, trying to dislodge the invaders. After some time passed and Snape had added a third and then a fourth digit, after lubing that one as well, he pulled his hand from Harry’s well stretched arse and wiped it off on a nearby hand towel. Harry was near tears, his eyes clouded and threatening to overflow at any given point, but Snape didn’t hesitate when he reached over and picked up the plug from the tray.
Snape dipped it into the oil and withdrew it with a deft hand. The Gryffindor’s eyes widened and he whimpered as the plug came into his view. Snape smirked slightly at the stark distress on the young man’s face before he pulled the boy’s twitching cheeks apart and lined the tip of the thick plug up at the now slack opening. He paused a moment and then, after placing his hand back on the hip before him, started to push the object against and past the muscle ring with a steady pressure and, inevitably, inside of Harry.
Even though the bulb was not expanded, it was wide enough to cause a good deal of discomfort for Harry’s virgin orifice going in. That discomfort was clear as Harry’s face twisted and the teen started to let out muffled yelps as his lithe hips bucked away from Snape’s grasp. Snape held on, despite the difficulty Harry was giving him, and managed to get the plug past the muscles and inside Harry’s channel with a wet and obscene pop.
Harry screamed. The gag quieted it, but it rang off the stone walls of the empty infirmary and magnified the severity of the situation. Snape ran a finger around the edges of the plug, looking for raised sections, and with a final push down Snape was sure the plug was in Harry completely. He ran a soothing hand over the boy’s back and waited until the worst of the crying was over before continuing on.
He stepped over to the tray and lifted the tubing that lay on it like an idle snake, and stepped back to a softly crying Harry. He wrapped one end of the tube through the bound legs and pulled both ends towards him, the upper end resting over Harry’s right thigh. Oil liberally coated the end closest to Harry, and Snape unhurriedly pushed the rubber hose through the hole in the bottom of the plug and then through the top of it into Harry’s passage.
Harry’s sob-filled breath hitched at the new sensation, and his ass spasmed and clenched around the plug. Snape smoothly goaded the tube upwards bit by bit, occasionally coating more of the vanishing rubber, until he estimated that a little over two feet had disappeared into Harry’s innards. With that done, he silently stuck the tube to the inside of the plug with a spell, sealed the plug closed, and left the young man on the bed, two feet of rubber inside of him, snaking its way through his bowels.
The shower room that was attached to Poppy’s domain proved useful as he filled a large enema bag with the mixture he had decided upon earlier. It had been difficult to choose but Snape knew that he could not change his mind. Harry needed discipline, a harsh smack to his anger-filled ego, and this was one of the only ways to properly punish him and jolt him out of his semester-long temper tantrum.
Snape tipped the three ounces of castor oil and six ounces of both glycerin and mineral oil that were laid out on the counter into the bag. He then filled it with two quarts of hot water, clamped the top, and shook it until the ingredients were mixed. He held the bag in his hands for a minute and felt the heat of it through the thick sides until it was hot in his palms.
When he made it back to Harry’s bed, the teen was twisting on it in what was possibly the most pathetic attempt of escape Snape had seen. The black haired youth was yanking at the restraints binding his hands and legs and grinding down on the bed as best he could, as if to catch the plug on something and pull it out. Snape knew the only way the plug was leaving Harry’s bum was if Snape pulled it out, and the Potions Master would not be inclined to do such a thing anytime in the near future. In fact, he would be doing the exact opposite very soon. Harry would soon find himself very full, very uncomfortable, very quickl