Chapter Text
It was a hot summer's day when it all began. At the Dursleys' house, 4 Privet Drive, fewer people than usual were suffering from the heat. Dudley and Vernon Dursley had left for a father-son vacation paid for entirely by Vernon's company, leaving Petunia and her nephew, Harry "freak" (as they called him) Potter, at home.
The day had been pretty much the same for Harry up until that point: waking up early to make breakfast for his aunt, then working in the garden to prune the hedges and cut the grass, lunch, then cleaning the house with the vacuum cleaner and broom, and finally dinner. It was the evening that was particularly different from all the other days.
Yes, because just before Harry went to bed at around 10 p.m., as he always did, Petunia knocked on the door of his room (the cupboard under the stairs). "Freak, come upstairs, I want to tell you a story." One might think this was a normal thing—an aunt reading a bedtime story to her nephew.
But whether it was the name, his classic nickname 'freak,' or the obvious malicious glint in Petunia's eyes, Harry knew there was something behind his aunt's sudden kindness in wanting to tell him a story. Nevertheless, Harry couldn't help but get up and follow her upstairs to her bedroom, which she usually shared with his uncle Vernon.
"Take off your clothes, freak," she said, surprising him and making him stop for a moment. "Are you deaf or are you stupid?" she asked him impatiently when she saw his reaction. "I gave you an order, freak." Recognizing the demanding tone that promised punishment, Harry sighed and obeyed, taking off his clothes and standing naked in front of his aunt.
"Very good, freak," she said with a wicked voice, a cruel glint in her eyes. "Tonight I want to tell you a beautiful story, which I like to call 'the horny red-haired whore and her cuckold husband,' are you ready to hear it, freak?" Petunia's tone made it clear that there was only one answer Harry could give: yes. And so he answered, with a hesitant nod, not understanding what his aunt was getting at.
And the story began, "Many years ago, a red-haired whore abandoned her family behind, flying to a faraway school to 'learn magic' from a bunch of freaks," Petunia said with a sneer. "All she learned, in reality, was how to become a complete slut obsessed with cocks."
Then she smiled, even more cruelly if possible. "Yes, Harry," she used his name as if it were the worst insult, even worse than 'freak.' "I'm talking about my sister, your mother, that big-breasted whore. Even when she came home in the summer, I could hear the sound from her room: GLUCH, GLUCH, GLUCH." Petunia mimicked the sound and gesture of giving a blowjob.
Harry wasn't sure why, but this speech, hearing about his mother being a whore, was arousing him, his average-sized cock (maybe even smaller than average, it wasn't like he had seen other cocks to compare it to) hardening, making his aunt smile maliciously.
"Jack off, Harry, jack off while I tell you about that whore of a mother of yours," she told him, and this time Harry didn't even think about the possibility of disobeying, wrapping his fingers around his hard cock, not so different from when it was soft to be honest, and starting to move up and down.
"As I was saying," his aunt smiled, "Lily loved cock; it was her reason for living. She brought a different boy home every summer night, not caring what we, her family, might think. They would lock themselves in the room and do everything; you could hear her groans and those of the various boys echoing throughout the house; the whore didn't even try to keep her voice down." Petunia let out a sigh. "I kind of miss those times, to be honest; the look on my mother's face, your grandmother, when I told her what Lily was doing was priceless." Petunia let herself go with a cruel smile again.
"Even when she found a boyfriend, that wimp James Potter, your father, she didn't stop being a whore. I don't know if it was because he had a small cock like yours," she pointed at his penis, which Harry was masturbating, "or if your mother was just too much of a whore to stop, but Lily continued, undeterred." Petunia then burst out laughing at his excited expression. "God, you're pathetic, I thought I'd be cruel and make you angry, not that I would make your little cock get hard and leak cum, freak." By now Petunia was almost rolling with laughter.
"Anyway, anyway," she refocused on the speech, wiping away tears of hilarity. "As I was saying, your mother continued to be a complete whore even after getting with your father; the only difference is that your father got involved in her fucks. James Potter would sit there, just like you are right now, jacking off while he watched his girlfriend (who later became his wife) get fucked hard by stallions with enormous cocks." Petunia licked her lips at the thought. "Oh Harry, you should have seen me and your mother before we married our respective husbands; we two were forces of nature." Petunia laughed once more.
"Even on her wedding day, Lily couldn't resist behaving like a whore. Dressed in her beautiful white dress, Lily went to the town's famous glory hole... ah, wait." Petunia realized who she was talking to. "You see, Harry, a glory hole is a place where men stick their cocks through a hole in the wall, and a woman inside the room on the other side of the wall sucks them. Lily loved going to the glory hole; she sucked all kinds of cocks: white, black, clean, dirty, enormous, average... she didn't discriminate; the important thing was that they filled her throat and stomach with their cum." Petunia smiled, starting to touch herself over her lace panties.
"Then, after getting her stomach filled, she went to the church, where the wedding was to be celebrated, and got her pussy and ass filled with cum at least once by every witness, mostly your father's friends. For those who knew how to look, it was obvious that your mother's pussy was dripping with cum down to her thighs from under her dress, where she obviously wasn't wearing panties, like the whore she was. At one point, she even dropped the wedding ring just to have an excuse to bend over and show her naked, cum-filled pussy to the priest." Another laugh came out of her mouth, her eyes almost glassy with nostalgia.
"That was the last time we really saw each other; then your mother and that cuckold of a father of yours had to hide God only knows where, and the next I heard of it, I was told they were dead and that I would have to take care of you," she made a disdainful noise, as if the idea of taking care of him was an insult, before putting on a smile again. "And in fact, I've decided to take care of you, from today onwards. I will make sure that you live up to your father, and that you find a woman who treats you just like Lily treated him. One step at a time, though, my dear Harry... the first step is that you now cum while screaming 'I AM A CUCKOLD,' can you do that, Harry? Can you cum while screaming that you are a cuckold while thinking about your mother fucking other men?"
Her words were arousing him like never before, and it took a few seconds before Harry came all over his hands and legs, screaming so all of Privet Drive could hear, "I AM A CUCKOLD."
From that day on, you could say that Harry's life changed completely. Petunia had unlocked something inside him, something Harry didn't even know he had before covering his legs in cum, recognizing his cuckold nature.
Since then, Petunia made sure to encourage his new impulse in every way. One day she went "shopping" and came back with a mini television that she put in his cupboard and a bag full of pornographic films, all focused on cuckolding, especially by red-haired women towards black-haired men with a particularly small penis.
Every time Harry seemed interested in a girl in the neighborhood, Petunia would make sure to invite her home and have her stay with Dudley. The evenings usually ended with the various girls spending the night in Dudley's room getting fucked stupid while Harry could watch via a tiny camera that Petunia had installed in her son's room and which played the recording on Harry's television.
Petunia even went so far as to involve a friend of hers, who was particularly good at using programs that allowed face modification, to modify the faces of porn stars with the face of his mother, thus effectively showing him deepfakes with his mother (or who he assumed to be his mother since Harry had never met her) as the protagonist.
By now, Harry didn't even do the chores anymore; Petunia was more than happy to leave him in his cupboard all day, except for meals, to masturbate for hours in front of those pornographic films, screaming the names of Lily and the girls he liked, alternating with the now habitual "I am a cuckold."
It was a very different Harry Potter, therefore, who went to Hogwarts for the first time, ready to put all his aunt's teachings into practice. He would find a perverse and depraved woman like his aunt and his mother, he would get engaged to her and then he would become her cuckold, accompanying her into a life of depravity and humiliation for him.
He would not be the Boy-Who-Lived, as Professor McGonagall had told him he was called by the Wizarding World; no, he would be the Cuckold-Who-Lived. Like his father, more than his father.
His name would become synonymous with Cuckold; he would become famous for that, and he couldn't wait to begin!