Harry potter the 12 year old boy, woke up in a dark dank chamber full of semen

Based HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH poster.

Harry had found some food. It was guarded by three and a million thousandsurf ninjas, for it was the last food on Surf Ninja Moon X. The ecology had been decimated by surf ninjas, so the last food was a cabbage and mustard sandwich. Harry squatted in the ruins of a castle which had been many skulls arranged to resemble one large one. It had been poorly done, with the cheeks fading into an amateurishly executed jaw line. The silent killers of the night had negated their innate advantage by only plying their craft on surf boards. During the day.

Harry was about to eat his cabbagewich when a man in a tuxedo appeared from behind nothing much. He stood ten feet tall and his head seemed wrapped in unwrappable darkness.

"I am Rape Radbury. I write critically acclaimed fiction that always turns into fact. That's why I have more money than anyone."

Harry dug a bit of cartilage out of the cabbagewich and continued chewing.

"Would you care to discuss one of my books? I hear that my..."

Harry fished out another bit of cartilage. It was a cartilage and mustard sandwich.

"You shouldn't believe what everyone says about me. I took a shower with my cousin, once. And I have racist thoughts."

A nibbet of yellow cartilage landed on Rape's shoe. He thought about his cousin.

Is this "My Immortal"?

Quite.
Mandatory watching/listening: youtube.com/watch?v=2V4VxlsMuQ4

Just as harry thought his massively damaged 12 year old shit chute would give out, the minotaur blasted his insides with what must have been three gallons of cum, and Harry knew it must have been approximately three gallons, as the night before, harry had given himself a dog shit enema of three gallons, which had expanded his stomach almost exactly as much.
Semen spewed out of Harry's mouth and onto the floor, which was already wet with semen, but now moreso, and Harry was dumped to the ground like a used condom, which at this point, harry essentially was, as if Harry was being used as a condom to fuck the ass of his ego.
Defeated, Harry farted out all the cum he could as the minotaur left.
Just before he closed the door, the minotaur took a massive dump on the floor, and then slammed the door so hard it flew all over the room.
"Oh I've really done it now" Harry exclaimed, wondering how he got into this mess in the first place.

The inquisitors were torturing Harry.

First, Ignatius used the rock.

Then Billy asked Harry if he wanted to read his BDSM blog. Harry was so surprised that his pants flew right off. He was wearing women's underpants.

The inquisitors were wearing them, too.

They realized that they were all men of the lord.

video games?

Can someone please fucking chronicle this epic so I can save it forever?

Sadly, no. This is trashy smut intermixed with HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Harry awoke to the throaty grumble of a rape ape.

Not a rape ape, but the rape ape, the last of his kind after the subjugation of the rapeforest. His people once graced the canopy, their penile digits proudly grasping the vines as they swung through the night, their hundreds of sweaty simian dongs trailing a now-fetid memory in the rape ape's watering eye. As his ocular ducts began to well with ancestral pride, so too did the countless meaty members sprouting from the rape ape's every hairy inch. From his eye sockets, ear holes, even his calloused toes, a penile font of cry-juice birthed a deluge.

Harry observed this with consternation, as he was tied to a table. Neither magic nor supracosmic strength would free him from his bonds. Had this creature access to an unknown material of deistic strength? Or did the rape ape have a secret yet more baffling?

Harry squinted so he could see the subatomic strings of the ropes. He began tossing antimatter at them with his mind as a group of children entered the rape ape's hiding place. They were well-groomed and impeccably attired, and there were 5.8 of them, just enough to represent an array of genders and races that would leave no one unhappy, save for the Eskimos. They were on their own, as far as the rape ape was concerned.

(1/2)

"Why do you cry, rape ape?" asked child 3.2.

The rape ape, unwilling to hide its greasy primate cock tears, hung its head, and gravity coaxed the eye wangers downward. It tied them together into a bow atop its head, to be pretty for its guests.

"We are bound in this ligature of lingam, brother rape ape," said child 4.6.

The children surrounded rape ape, holding their hands, and began to sing. Harry was transfixed as he watched the children, gently swaying with the song, float skyward. The little ones began to orbit the rape ape, who was convulsing as though stricken by the seizure devil. As the song increased in tempo the childflesh bubbled and merged into a spinning wonder turbine. The fleshy kidmass sprouted hair and groin dribblers just like the rape ape, and sprayed confetti into skies of past and future, setting the constellations aflame with the opalescent of the perished rape apes. An explosion of color and hair left Harry Potter alone and still bound. He thought about sandwiches.

(2/2)

What the fuck is happening?

Attached: 1548383488905.png (500x497, 396K)

Neither gay smut nor Hermione fapfics from the dullest franchise in the history of movie franchises could elicit the slightest chub in my nether regions. Seriously each episode following the boy wizard and his pals from Hogwarts Academy as they fight assorted villains has been indistinguishable from the others. Aside from the gloomy imagery, the series’ only consistency has been its lack of excitement and ineffective use of special effects, all to make magic unmagical, to make action seem inert.

Perhaps the die was cast when Rowling vetoed the idea of Spielberg directing the series; she made sure the series would never be mistaken for a work of art that meant anything to anybody?just ridiculously profitable cross-promotion for her books. The Harry Potter series might be anti-Christian (or not), but it’s certainly the anti-James Bond series in its refusal of wonder, beauty and excitement. No one wants to face that fact. Now, thankfully, they no longer have to.

>a-at least the books were good though
"No!"

The writing is dreadful; the book was terrible. As I read, I noticed that every time a character went for a walk, the author wrote instead that the character "stretched his legs."

I began marking on the back of an envelope every time that phrase was repeated. I stopped only after I had marked the envelope several dozen times. I was incredulous. Rowling's mind is so governed by cliches and dead metaphors that she has no other style of writing. Later I read a lavish, loving review of Harry Potter by the same Stephen King. He wrote something to the effect of, "If these kids are reading Harry Potter at 11 or 12, then when they get older they will go on to read Stephen King." And he was quite right. He was not being ironic. When you read "Harry Potter" you are, in fact, trained to read Stephen King.

Attached: 1541758247040.jpg (1616x2864, 547K)

Harry Lamented.
"Now I've got an even smaller penis, an even looser anus and I'm in a dungeon, how could this get any worse!".
Harry thought briefly if despite being raped and kidnapped he would still get a black mark for missing his homework.
"Dumbledore will probably send me into the telepathic mind spider anal rape dimension again" Harry mumbled out aloud, hoping some invisible god would hear him and take pity on him for already having to experience the sheer terror of being telepathically controlled by a spider to rape yourself on its massive cock for years and years while time stood still and ghosts of your entire family linage watched in shame.

Is this a new Dirty Potter?

Harry Potter awoke in a pit that reeked of hot sauce. He could feel viscous fluid under his fingernails, burning the tender skin. Everywhere were white bags bulging with foul product. They were diapers stuffed with chicken bones and hot sauce, their foul odor blossoming in the muffled dark. Harry's nostrils begged his brain for mercy. He flew upwards, away from the saucy mysteries below. The smell grew faint, calling him to return. Harry ignored their lies, flying beyond the lips of his prison. He was in a laboratory, with machines that had no purpose beyond blinking lights and soft hums.

"Hello, my boy son! You make a father so good!"

Harry had flown out of the nose of an old man. This man wore a white coat, yet was drawn by the hand of an idiot. His voice came not from his mouth, but from elsewhere, a sad attempt at humanity.

"I know you'll do so well! Now you choose!

The man reached into his coat and laid out three diapers, each brimming with the spicy bones of the nose prison. He removed his head and stuck it on a spike on the counter, to keep it from rolling away. The diapers began to stir as creatures clawed out of bony wombs. Arrayed before Harry was a turtle, the reptilian body so frail that it seemed an afterthought to the shell, a bald weasel with toothpicks for legs, and a wrinkled thumb in a glass of water. The old man's head called out from the spike.

"Everyone has one! Make your best friends for life!"

Harry drank the glass of thumb water and spat the thumb at the old man's head.

To be honest, Chamber of Secrets is a pretty good game on pc.