Voldemort made his way up the stairs of his lavish home. The mansion used to belong to his deceased muggle father, Tom Riddle Sr. Now it was a base for the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. The day had been long and although the man was tired, he could feel his thin lips pull up at their corners. He walked as quickly as he could without looking impatient. It didn’t matter much; his followers were making their way out and heading to their respective homes, though no doubt Lucius and his wife were still seated in the dining room bragging to Bellatrix about some new accomplishment their son had made in school.
Voldemort arrived at the large wooden door of his bed chamber at last. He turned the doorknob, his boney white fingers turning the knob slowly. He could feel the strong wards on the room allow his entry. He slowly opened the door.
The room was lit dimly, just like he’d left it. He closed the door behind him silently and made his way into the room. On one side of the room was his large four poster bed with a black phoenix feather comforter. On the other was a small sitting area with a couch and two armchairs around a fireplace. A bookshelf rested against the back wall near a window seat. By the wall with the bedroom door was a small table and chair that the man ate at when his followers weren’t in his home. Behind that was a large closet and to the right of the closet was the bathroom.
The man quickly scanned the room. His red eyes found what he’d been looking for. There was a large square pillow, about half the size of his bed, in the corner of the room between the bookcase and the fireplace. It was the furthest corner from the door. A body lay sleeping peacefully on the large, luxurious green pillow filled to the brim with expensive phoenix feathers. Tassels made with unicorn hair dangled from its four corners. Gallons meant little to the Dark Lord when his precious pet was concerned. He’d spent quite a fortune on the animal’s lush bed.
Voldemort walked silently to the pillow. He didn’t want to wake his pet. The man’s boney fingers lightly caressed the wild black locks on his kitten’s head. Since the animal’s back was to him, Voldemort leaned over to see his pet’s face. Its eyelashes were long and its lips were plump and inviting. Voldemort licked his lips. His kitten was just too beautiful, looking angelic in sleep. It was a bit of a juxtaposition to what his cat was like awake. His pet was sweet and docile, but he was also rambunctious and curious. He got into quite a bit of trouble when he was younger. Voldemort remembered the early days none to fondly. It took quite a while for the kitten to learn to use the litter box. He had to punish his kitten every day, sometimes more than twice a day when his kitten was being naughty.
Nowadays his pet was much better behaved, but he still had his moments. Just last week he’d caught the animal pawing at his comforter, trying to climb up his bed. It was early in the morning and his cat wasn’t feeling well. He tried to get Voldemort’s attention by climbing up, not that it could.
When his pet was only one year old, Voldemort had forced the kitten’s little hands into fists, thumbs inside, and used his magic to shorten the ligaments in its hands. From then on his pet was unable to open his hands. Now they were useless little paws. The man had to place a spell on the animal’s fingers so the nails wouldn’t grow any longer. He didn’t want the nails to hurt his pet as he grew older.
When the man finally woke to the efforts of his misbehaving pet, he called his private mediwizard; the only other person to know that the animal existed. The man had him feed his pet a potion and his cat got better. Then the Dark Lord had to punish the creature for pawing at his bed. His cat knew he wasn’t allowed on the furniture and being ill was no excuse. Voldemort used a leather tawse to turn his pet’s round plump globes a violent red.
When his cat was merely a kitten, it would always run and hide under the Dark Lord’s bed. The kitten was punished more for evading. Voldemort had trained his pet well over the years. All the man had to say was the word “tawse” or “whip” or “cane,” or any other punishment tool and his pet would crawl to the object and carry it back in its mouth. It was still scared of the punishment, but it knew better than to purposefully disobey.
After the spanking with the tawse, Voldemort got out a small container from his nightstand. Trying to climb on the furniture needed a very severe punishment. The man put on a pair of latex gloves and scooped a generous dollop of lotion onto two of his fingers. Just seeing the container made his pet start shivering with fear. The man got behind his pet, took out the animal’s anal plug, spread his naughty pet’s ass cheeks, and lightly touched his cat’s pucker with the lotion. Then the man drove both fingers inside his pet’s anus, coating the creature’s rectum with the cream. Then he took his fingers out, took off his gloves, and threw them in the wastebasket.
He saw his pet cry silently as he waited for the lotion to work. When it did, not more than a few minutes after it was applied, his pet screamed in pain. The lotion was something he had Severus Snape make for him. It was a custom recipe. He wanted something that would burn his pet’s sensitive skin and rectum, but wouldn’t do lasting damage. He’d told Snape he wanted to use it to torture captured muggleborns. The pain the lotion caused was intense and lasted about half an hour. Then the pain slowly dissipated. After about two hours the individual was left with the affected area throbbing duly from the pain. The throbbing ended completely after another two hours.
The Dark Lord had tried the lotion himself before subjecting his pet to it. He tried it on the back of his hand. The pain was horrible, but it wasn’t more than a person could handle. It wasn’t the crutacious, for instance. A person wouldn’t lose their sanity to it…unless the lotion was constantly reapplied before the victim was able to recover. At least that’s what Snape had warned him.
In all the years he’d had the pet, he’d used the lotion only a few times. He used it quite sparingly. It was only used when his pet deliberately disobeyed one of his rules. His kitten was so sweet and well-behaved that it wasn’t necessary for everyday punishments.
The Dark Lord knelt and watched his cat for a while longer. He saw his pet’s little white penis against the contrasting black of the pillow. The man felt the urge to lick it. He really hadn’t been intending to use his kitten tonight, but he just couldn’t resist. He silently leaned over and felt the furry black tail of the animal. He’d given his pet the tail when he was still very young. Only a month after capturing it. He’d also given him his ears. The dark curse used to modify his pet’s small body gave its victim a cat tail and cat ears. Both were fully functioning appendages and as black as the hair on his kitten’s head.
There were side effects, however. The first was that the curse was permanent, the second was that since the tail grew out of the animal’s tailbone, his poor pet’s new bones were very sore for over a week after the ritual. The other sore spot was the cat’s human ears. The curse destroyed his animal’s ears completely. All the parts of the ear including the ear canal and ear drum disintegrated and disappeared inside his pet’s head. Even the outer part of the ear dissolved into nothing. Not even a hole was left in the sides of the cat’s head. It was very painful for his pet, but the curse created new ears, new ear canals, and new ear drums for his kitten. the Dark Lord was glad that he’d performed the curse when his kitten was still only a year old so his pet would never be troubled by the nonexistent memory.
But just having his pet resemble a cat wasn’t enough. When he first acquired his kitten, he always played videos of cats that he’d project on one of the walls of the room with magic. The videos would play all day long until he came home. His kitten saw more of the videos than he saw of his master, so it was inevitable with his sponge-like brain that he would start learning from the videos. The videos taught his pet how to walk like a cat, meow like a cat, play like a cat, and act like a cat. Voldemort wanted his pet to really believe he was a cat…and it worked.
The child was only a year old when he began being trained to be a cat. And the boy picked up on it quicker than the Dark Lord expected. The man had his kitten eating cat food out of its cat dishes only a night into his training. All he had to do was show his pet a video of a cat eating out its bowls and his pet copied what it saw.
He ran into a problem a few weeks after he’d gotten the animal. His pet was getting sick and he called his mediwizard. The medical professional learned of his pet for the first time that day and was put under an unbreakable vow. The man could tell no one about his kitten. The man told him that feeding his pet cat food was a bad idea and if Voldemort didn’t stop, his kitten would die. Voldemort took to his research and found a dark curse that he could modify enough to work. He made it so his pet was able to get all the nutrients and vitamins it needed to live from cat food.
That was also the night he amputated his pet’s legs. Voldemort amputated his kitten’s legs at the knee. The man was fearful that his pet would try to stand when it got older, as per instinct. Now his kitten was only able to crawl on all fours on his useless paws and short, stubby legs. It was the reason his pet was unable to climb up on his bed. Voldemort’s bed was too high. His cat physically couldn’t get up.
Voldemort wanted to make absolute certain that the prophesy Snape told him regarding Harry Potter would never come true. The entire world thought the boy was dead. Even Dumbledore had given a speech at the family’s public funeral. But that wasn’t enough. Voldemort never moved a single pawn until he knew his victory was certain. So the man transformed the child. His pet still looked human, but Harry Potter was long dead. His pet was nothing but a cat now. Its legs couldn’t stand, its hands couldn’t hold a wand, its thoughts were limited. It knew nothing of the world outside the Dark Lord’s bedchamber. His pet had never been past the door. The creature couldn’t read or write. It couldn’t speak.
Voldemort never spoke much around his cat, at least not until it was over the age of six. Long past the critical stage for language development. He did teach his pet some words. He needed the cat to follow basic commands, after all. But his kitten couldn’t hold any sort of real conversation. Even now, his pet probably had the vocabulary of a two year old, if that.
His cat did meow a lot though; it made Voldemort wonder if his pet would actually be able to communicate with real cats.
As the man pet his cat’s tail, he noticed his furry ears twitch. Voldemort smiled and wondered what his pet was dreaming about. There wasn’t much he knew, so the man assumed his cat dreamt about him. The thought that he was his cat’s whole life made his cock react. He licked his thin lips as he felt himself harden under his robes.
He took the outer layer off and hung it on a coatrack by the door before walking back to his sleeping pet and maneuvering its skinny frame until it was laying on its back on the large pillow. Voldemort spread the creature’s thin, hairless legs and stared at the plug in the animal’s ass. He had his pet start its sexual training when it began going through puberty.
He had fed his pet a potion that got rid of all unwanted hair permanently. His cat was completely smooth. The only hair was on his pet’s head and eyebrows. He never gave his pet clothes, so the sight of his nude, hairless body was like a permanent walking work of art in the man’s room.
Voldemort slowly took the plug out and looked at his pet’s sleeping face. So precious. He took his cock out of his trousers, lubed it with a wandless spell, and touched it to his cat’s slightly gaping pucker. He moved the head of his cock up and down against the delicate skin before slowly inserting an inch of his cock. He kept his eyes on his pet’s face, alert for signs that the creature would wake. But his pet’s eyes remained closed and his breathing stayed even.
The Dark Lord felt himself leak precome inside the tight passage. Though he kept his pet plugged most of the time, he had also performed a spell on his pet during its puberty that forced his pet’s rectum and sphincter to stay nice and tight, no matter how many times he used the slut, or what abuse the hole went through. He also cast a spell on the cat’s throat at the same time. This got rid of his cat’s gag reflex. It was necessary.
The first time he had his cat deepthroat him was a disaster. His usually obedient pet tried to get away when he tried to get his cock down its throat. He had to restrain his pet and force his cat’s head all the way down on his cock. He wasn’t even able to come. He had to remove his cock as his pet’s bile came up. His cat then proceeded to vomit on his expensive white carpet. He had to punish his pet that night. The next day he tried again with similar results. The man knew that the only way this would work was for him to make the experience easier for his pet. And so he got rid of his cat’s gag reflex. It worked very well.
Voldemort thrust more of his cock inside the warm, wet heat. He heard his pet mew in his sleep. He couldn’t hold back. He thrust all the way to the hilt and didn’t stop there. He started a fast pace. His kitten’s eyes flew open. His pet looked at him blearily, not comprehending at first what was going on. Then his cat blushed and moaned. Voldemort pinched one of his pet’s perky pink nipples.
“Meow!”
“You like when I play with your little nipples. Look you’re already getting so hard. Aren’t you my little pet?”
“M-Master?”
“Yes, pet?” Voldemort’s pace quickened.
His pet moaned again, closing his eyes with pleasure. Then his eyes opened. His pet panted. “mo-ing?”
“No, pet. It’s not morning. It’s still night. I just got back. I didn’t mean to wake you.” The man saw the diamonds on his pet’s collar shine in the moonlight. Voldemort leaned over and planted a kiss on his cat’s neck, right above the special accessory.
He’d gotten the collar as a Christmas present for his kitten when he was still only five years old. Besides being extraordinarily elegant, studded as it was with rare green diamonds, dyed dark green leather, and silver trim and tags, it also had other purposes. The collar was infused with much dark magic. The first of its talents was that it only responded to Voldemort’s willing words. When he’d first acquired the collar, the man had given himself a small cut on his thumb and pressed the bleeding digit to the inside of the collar. This acted like a contract. The collar would respond to him alone. Once in place around its victim, it could only be removed by Voldemort. The collar was also impervious to any kind of spell or enchantment. And with only a thought, Voldemort could know the location of the collar, even if theoretically, it was in another galaxy.
The best parts of the collar were the three spells it could cast on its victim with just a word from the Dark Lord. Voldemort could be as far away from the collar as possible and with a single word, the collar would curse the victim it was locked on. The first spell was a truth telling curse. When Voldemort said the words, “Tell the truth,” the victim would be forced to answer the next question Voldemort spoke. It was much stronger than even Veritaserum.
The second spell was the Cruciatus. If Voldemort said “Crusio,” the collar would inflict the one wearing it with unimaginable pain for as long as Voldemort wanted. Once the man said or thought the word “Stop,” the spell would end.
The last spell infused into the collar was Avada Kedavra, the killing curse. Like the other two, the man did not need to be anywhere near the collar for the accessory to cast Avada Kedavra. Voldemort needed to simply think the words and wherever his pet happened to be, he’d die instantly.
The Dark Lord hadn’t invented the collar. It was an ancient relic from over a thousand years ago, before the construction of Hogwarts. It belonged to a Pharaoh called Tutankhamon. The Pharaoh had three of the collars made. They were known as The Cursed Necklaces. Two of the collars were lost to time and the third had been found a long time ago in Tutankhamon’s tomb.
The Pharaoh used the collars on his captured enemies. The man never let them live for long. That history is why the muggles, and even some wizards, believe the object to be cursed. The rumors say the collar kills whoever puts it on. The Dark Lord knew better and so he had stolen it from an Egyptian museum that had been displaying the relic. He got it specifically to outwit the prophesy.
Voldemort kissed his kitten’s neck again and played with the collar’s tags. He’d made them himself. The one on top held the name of his pet: “Murder.” It was written in a beautiful cursive script. The bottom read: “Property of the Dark Lord Voldemort.”
The man looked up at his kitten’s face. Its eyes were lidded and its breathing was heavy. The man reached down and touched the head of his pet’s penis.
“Ah!”
Voldemort pulled down his cat’s foreskin and began teasing the glands.
“M-mew. Meow.” His cat placed his paws on his master’s back, pulling him closer to him. Voldemort lowered his body so that their chests were touching. There was sweat building up between them. Voldemort’s cock was thrusting brutally inside his cat. Then his pet gave his cheek a lick. “Meow!” Voldemort looked at the expression on his kitten’s face. It was one of happiness, contentment. His little kitten knew nothing about the world, nothing about it’s past, its parents. It knew nothing but what Voldemort told it, or had it learn through the moving cat pictures. His pet was so innocent, co carefree, so pure. His pet loved the evil murderer he was raised by. He loved the man who killed his parents, enslaved him, and had his very life in the palm of his hand. The once Harry Potter, the boy who was supposed to be the savior of the Wizarding World, loved the Dark Lord Voldemort.
The very thought sent the man over the edge. His balls tightened. He grunted. Then he felt it. He came deep inside his pet’s anal cavity, coating the walls of his cat’s rectum with his seed. He lay there on top of his pet for a bit, before letting go of his cat’s penis, which was still hard, and standing up. He got into his nightwear while watching his kitten moan and force itself not to hump its pillow. His pet had been taught never to touch his penis, which was a difficult lesson for the animal to learn, especially when it went through puberty. But his pet knew his penis was only for his master to play with and touching it or rubbing it against anything would result in strict punishment.
Sometimes Voldemort let his cat come, but usually he left him wanting more. He loved seeing his pet writhe with sexual need without being able to do anything about it. He knew his pet would eventually settle down and sleep. He looked back at his cat as he got into bed. His pet looked back at him, panting.
“I have a long meeting tomorrow, so I’ll be gone most of the day. If you behave yourself I’ll let you have some catnip tomorrow when I get home. I’ll fuck you for a full hour while you’re high, alright?” He didn’t know how much the cat understood of what he’d said, but he knew both the words ‘fuck,’ and ‘catnip.’ He saw his sixteen year old pet’s eyes widen and watched as his cat turned on its side and tried to fall asleep as quickly as it could. “Goodnight and have pleasant dreams, Mur.”
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Here’s a picture of what Harry’s collar looks like and the map of Voldemort’s bedchamber that I drew for the original fanfic.
Finnian Siog 