IT'S YOUR SENIOR YEAR IN WIZARD COLLEGE. YOU'VE BEEN KNOWN AS THE BAD BOY IN SCHOOL EVER SINCE YOU GOT CAUGHT SHOVING CHOCOLATE FROGS UP A HOUSE ELF'S ASSHOLE. THE FOLLOWING YEARS WERE SPENT CEMENTING YOUR LEGACY. FROM JERKING OFF ON THE HAUNTED PAINTINGS TO SHITTING IN THE SORTING HAT'S MOUTH, YOU'RE CONSTANTLY TRYING TO OUTDO YOURSELF. YOUR “I DON'T GIVE A FUCK” ATTITUDE HAS TURNED ALL OF YOUR PEERS INTO SIMPS. YOU'VE HAD YOUR WAND DRAINED BY EVERY GIRL IN THE CASTLE BY NOW. EXCEPT FOR ONE, WHO MAY BE THE HOTTEST OF THEM ALL; EVEN WITH THE WEIRD MUSHROOM SHAPED SCAR ON HER FOREHEAD. SHE TRANSFERRED FROM AN ALL GIRLS WIZARD COLLEGE A FEW WEEKS AGO AND EVER SINCE SHE ARRIVED, SHE'S BEEN SENDING YOU FILTHY LETTERS. LETTERS SO NASTY, THEY'RE STICKY BY THE TIME THEY FINISH READING THEMSELVES. HER OWL FLIES IN TO DELIVER HER LATEST MESSAGE. IT MUST BE ESPECIALLY DIRTY BECAUSE HE HAS A THROBBING HARD LITTLE BIRDDICK WHEN HE LANDS ON YOUR ARM. IT SAYS TONIGHT IS THE NIGHT. SHE HAS THE NEED FOR SEED; A WHOLE GOBLET OF FIRE'S WORTH OF IT. SHE WANTS YOU TO MEET HER IN THE LIBRARY TONIGHT SO YOU CAN GIVE HER A PEARL NECKLACE BIG ENOUGH TO MAKE 2CHAINZ JEALOUS. YOU MEET HER IN A DARK CORNER IN THE BACK OF THE LIBRARY. SHE'S HOLDING AN OLD, DUSTY TOME BOUND IN THE SCALEY LEATHER OF A DRAGON'S FORESKIN. THERE'S ONLY ONE KIND OF MAGIC IN THAT BOOK AND IT'S FORBIDDEN. DARK, TWISTED FETISH MAGIC. THE KIND THAT COULD LAND YOU IN AZKABAN, GETTING SPITROASTED BY CENTAURS JUST TO KEEP YOUR LUNCH TRAY. YOUR DESPERATE NEED TO CUM PREVENTS YOU FROM GIVING A FUCK. SHE FIRES A SPELL AT YOU AND SUDDENLY IT FEELS LIKE A GOLDEN SNITCH IS TICKLING YOUR BALLS WITH ITS FLUTTERING WINGS. THE LIGHTS FLICKER AND DIM AS ALL OF THE ENERGY IN THE ENTIRE CASTLE BEGINS CHANNELING DIRECTLY INTO YOUR BAG. YOUR SACK IS FILLED TO THE BRIM AND NOT WITH BERTIE BOT'S EVERY FLAVOR BEANS. YOU BUST A NUT SO HARD IT RIPS THROUGH YOUR WIZARD ROBES. IT DOESN'T STOP. LOADS CONTINUE TO PUMMEL HER, LIKE WAVES CRASHING AGAINST AN OLD LIGHTHOUSE. AFTER A FEW SECONDS, SHE'S COVERED IN MORE ROPES THAN A SPANISH GALLEON. MINUTES PASS AND IT LOOKS LIKE SHE'S STARRING IN A SHITTY B-HORROR MOVIE ABOUT A YOGURT MONSTER. IT GETS MORE POWERFUL AND NOW YOU'RE FLYING AROUND THE LIBRARY BY YOUR DICK LIKE YOU'RE RIDING A FUCKING BROOMSTICK. YOU REALIZE IT'S NEVER GOING TO STOP. YOUR BALLS HAVE BEEN CURSED WITH A NEVER-ENDING CUM SPELL. SHE BURSTS FREE FROM HER JIZZ CACOON AND BLASTS A SPELL THAT HITS YOU RIGHT IN THE COCK AND BALLS. YOUR DICKHOLE DISAPEARS AND YOU FALL TO THE GROUND. ALL THE MAN-GOO IS BACKING UP AND YOU'RE STARTING TO INFLATE LIKE A WATER BALLOON FULL OF JELLO. SHE STANDS OVER YOU AND EXPLAINS HOW BOTH OF YOU ARE PART OF THE SAME PROPHECY. A PROPHECY WHICH FORETOLD A GIRL WITH A STRANGE SCAR ON HER FOREHEAD DEFEATING AN EVIL, DARK WIZARD BY EXPLODING HIM WITH HIS OWN CUM. THEY ACTUALLY COVERED IT PRETTY THOROUGHLY IN CLASS AND IF YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN PAYING ATTENTION, YOU PROBABLY COULD HAVE AVOIDED THIS WHOLE SITUATION. TOO LATE THOUGH. YOU EXPLODE. THE WIZARD WORLD IS SAVED. EVERY YEAR YOUR DEATH IS CELEBRATED WITH A FUN NIGHT FULL OF SINGING AND CAKE. FUCK YOU.
