Door unlocked and Aunt Petunia away on business, Uncle Vernon must have forgotten to pull the shower curtain back for privacy. You stand with your eye wide in shock as he berates you for not knocking. But you barely even hear what he has to saw as you close the door. Even flaccid and in the water, his dick was so thick. You have to close your mouth manually and wipe the split from your lips just to look presentable, which leaves a taste of your own cum that was left on your hand, lingering in your mouth.
You race back to your room, the size and shape of your uncle's dick pulsing through your mind. Why couldn't you stop thinking about it? You aren't gay, right? You can't possibly be.
Your eyes linger to the small box holding the leftover batch of polyjuice you had prepared a while ago. You weren't gay, you couldn't be.
Your mind then flashes back to the previous night as you dreamt of being Hermoine, trapped in that small cellar, **** to be a cocksleave for whoever. For Uncle Vernon.
You then remember what you did before going to sleep. You remember riding Uncle Vernon's fat, thick cock like it was the greatest thing in the world. You remember all the ecstasy you felt as it filled you. You remember how he threw you around like you were nothing more than a fleshlight to be pumped into.
You then realize, that with your back to the closed door, and your eyes glued to the box of polyjuice, you had been jerking off this entire time.
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