The Jitties: A Holiday Tale
by The Lawn Set
Once upon a time, there was a boy with giant tits.
Now, don’t misunderstand me. He wasn’t born with them. No, no. He worked for them. He sat hunched at his computer into the wee hours of the mourn, squinting at a too bright screen as YouTube instructed him on the best chest presses, the proper push-up form, and all that he would need to ingest in order to get, quote, “big and strong.”
What he didn’t account for, however, was the genetic artistry in his DNA that would lead to a more pronounced chest. As he got older and puberty did him a solid, he not only packed on muscle in his thighs, ass, and arms, but also in his chest.
He’s no longer a teenager—and by all accounts should not have such a pronounced chest, considering his more mundane workout—but the damage has been done.
The Jitties have been born.
James Potter meets Regulus Black when they’re eleven, but doesn’t have a proper Gay Crisis until he’s seventeen, at which point Regulus returns from his summer abroad in Paris looking like a whole snack.
No, not a snack, he decides when he sees Regulus walk into the Great Hall. Een maaltijd. Nom nom.
“Hey Sirius,” James says, nudging his best friend. “When did your brother get so hot?”
“Gross, Prongs.”
“I’m just asking. He has nice ears.”
“Ears?”
“Ears.”
Sirius waves a chicken leg around in midair. It nearly hits Peter in the face. “Yeah, well. He’s not going to want anything to do with you.”
“Famous last words, Black.”
Unfortunately, Sirius isn’t wrong. Regulus wants nothing to do with James for a long, long time.
“Why do you have a weird obsession with my ears?”
“I just want to nibble on them,” James laments, dragging his feet through the corridors. “They’re so lovely and pointy. Like pretty elf ears.”
Regulus hexes him, and James shits slugs for a week. This is unfortunate, considering his recent self-discovery for occasional bottom behavior.
Ah, well.
C’est la vie.
James sits on a large sofa and stares absently into a roaring fire while his best friends make out on the cushion next to him. It’s lots of sloppy mouth noises, which he could really do without, but at least it’s not lots of creaky bed noises.
On the other side of Sirius and Remus, Peter sits also watching the fire.
“Sometimes,” James says to no one in particular, “I think my nipples harden at strange times.”
Remus, who up until now has been busy with Sirius’ neck, replies, “That’s weird.”
“Is it? Maybe they’re just…maturing.”
“Nipples don’t mature.”
“Mine do.”
James doesn’t tell Sirius that it’s been the sight of Regulus that causes these…maturities. He’ll keep that to himself, thank you very much. Himself and his diary, where he’s taken to calling his chest “the Jitties.”
Giving it a name seems special.
Regulus finds James incredibly annoying until they’re past twenty. After that, he finds him mildly annoying and incredibly hot. Look, he’s a simple guy, with simple needs.
And he needs James Potter. Bad.
The truth is, he doesn’t have the guts to do anything about it until they’re at Sirius’ birthday party. He’s drunk. Too much firewhiskey. James is also drunk (too much tequila), and shirtless. He stands on a wooden coffee table in the middle of the living room and swings his shirt around above his head.
No one else would be able to pull this off, but James Potter? Regulus might need to run to the bathroom and wonk his willy before he can continue with his evening.
The evening continues. Regulus gets progressively drunker. He does not, in fact, wonk his willy. But what he does do is approach James, who stands in a corner with a slightly glazed look in his eyes. At least until Regulus approaches.
“Oh. Hi.”
He doesn’t know what compels him to do it. James is still shirtless. His chest glistens. His beautiful, beautiful, beautiful chest, which Regulus thinks his face would fit so comfortably between if he just…
“Reg?”
Regulus latches on to James’ nipple. He’s not even aware he’s doing it until he’s done it, right there in the middle of his brother’s birthday party. At least there isn’t anyone around to see him do it. But really, who could blame him?
He expects James to moan—that’s what most men do in Regulus’ experience—but instead, James begins to…sing. Loudly.
“Inki pinki ponki, daddy bought a donkey, donkey die, daddy cry—” James takes a deep breath, “—inki pinki ponki!”
Regulus pulls away.
“Oh,” James says sheepishly. “Those are their names. Pinki—” He points to his left nipple, “—and Ponki.” He points to his right. “I gave them names because sometimes, I think they talk to me.”
Regulus blinks slowly.
What the fuck.
Ah, well, at least James is hot.
C’est la vie.
No one notices, but in a window directly across from where Regulus enthusiastically latches onto James’ nipples, a woman named Jaqie has her face pressed to the glass. She laughs to herself, a quiet giggle, and whispers, “Jitties.”
The Christmas ball is Amazing this year. Big, beautiful trees are strewn around the great hall, and a billion sparkly lights decorate the walls and ceiling. It’s making James feel all warm and gooey inside. But not as warm and gooey as Regulus makes him feel.
The black-haired boy is breathtaking. His hair is artfully arranged in beautiful ringlets, and he’s wearing that one robe with the embroidered donkeys that make James’ balls clench.
James winds his arms around Regulus’ waist; his jitties comfortably squished between them. Regulus rests his head on them when the music starts.
ho ho ho
candy cane and mistletoe
garland glitter, silver glow
smell of ginger in the wind
kiss of eggnog on your skin
They sway to the song, which James thinks is fantastic. He really feels represented by it, actually.
Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of Remus staring at that weird imposter Sirius. He is dancing with one of the Slytherins James thinks is called Lana, spinning her around wildly while he chants “I’m Sirius Black.” over and over again. Lana looks like she wants to stab him just as much as Remus.
Interesting.
it is all I ever wanted
to be loved like Farrah Faucet
so take my hand, and let's begin
the gayest Christmas ever lived
“Wait, this is the best part!” James shouts, letting go of Regulus, who protests but quickly shuts up when he sees what James is about to do. He widens his stance, clenches his asscheeks, and puffs out his boobs, getting ready to twerk to the upcoming lyrics.
ho ho ho, homo
ho ho ho, homo
ho ho ho, homo
ho ho ho, homo
With every “ho,” his nipples twitch, and he shakes his ass on the beat.
He knows he looks good.
“James, stop it, or I will not be able to hold myself back,” Regulus says, sounding strained.
“Then don’t.”
Within seconds, Regulus’ mouth is latched to his sensitive nipples right there in the middle of the hall.
“Why are they so hard?” Regulus asks. His eyes are fixed on his pert nipples.
Pinki and Ponki are trying to tell James something, trying to direct him. The mild telepathic communication he has formed with them over his routine. He feels a pull at his chest, turning into every direction until the jitties tremble in anticipation.
“This way!” James yells, taking Regulus’ hand and running in the direction that his chest wishes for him to go to.
They run together, following the wisdom of his quivering nipples. They ache with every wrong path that James takes them down and tingle in delight when he makes the right move. The entire time, Regulus stares at them, mouth open and salivating.
As they get closer to where the jitties are leading him, James hears bickering.
“I am Sirius Black.”
“No, I am Sirius Black!”
They come to a clearing, lit up by the full moon, to see Sirius and his imposter facing each other, fingers aimed in accusation. Lana stands behind fake Sirius, looking like she’d literally rather be anywhere else.
Pinki and Ponki calm down.
Something will happen in this place.
And oh boy, does something happen. Not a second after they enter the clearing, Remus comes running out of the woods in his werewolf form.
James quickly turns into prongs and scoops Regulus onto his back in case they need to run away.
Sirius shifts into Padfoot, but the imposter Sirius isn’t an animagus, and neither is Lana.
Oh no, this is bad. Pinki and Ponki vibrate wildly out of concern. But it seems Moony doesn’t have any interest in Lana. He ignores her in favor of circling the imposter Sirius.
“James! I think Ponki is trying to tell me something.” Regulus says while he slides off his back.
Crouching down, Regulus presses his ear to Ponki.
“It says……it says the imposter is called Ben Barnes.” Regulus translates, “He’s come from another universe.”
He gently pets Ponki.
“Apparently, people there keep telling him he is Sirius.”
Moony apparently doesn’t like this information one bit because he lets out a low growl into Ben’s face.
Ben doesn’t look intimidated by the big wolf at all. “I’m the real Sirius Black, you plonker! Can’t you tell by this?” Ben wildly waves some sort of device that he presses a button on. “Lumos.” The device lights up like a flashlight.
The bright light blinds Moony, making him even more annoyed.
Padfoot and Prongs lunge forward, trying to stop their friend, but it's too late. Moony sinks his teeth into the dimension-hopping man’s face and rips his head clean off.
Well.
That’s quite unfortunate.
Before Moony can sniff the air and detect the other humans, Prongs stands on his hind legs and lets Pinki and Ponki spray calming pheromones into the air around Moony.
Immediately, Moony relaxes and happily settles down, munching on the dead imposter. Padfoot walks up to him and lays down next to him, licking soothing circles into the wolf’s fur.
Regulus gags, and James’ heart beats proudly for his very in-love friends.
He pats his jitties, “Good job, old friends.”
Imposter Sirius Black’s funeral comes and goes without much fanfare. The supposed popular ‘fancast’ (although, what that means, James isn’t particularly sure), wasn’t as beloved as they seemed to believe. The guest list was small, and many of the memories mentioned about him were met by cringes and far away stares of horror.
Remus, for his part, doesn’t look remotely guilty. Sirius makes a point to snog him over the closed casket before they leave. There is a notable absence of Lana at the imposter’s funeral. She seems to have created some sort of support group about his very existence in the first place.
Nothing changes. No charges are even brought up. Soon enough, the Imposter is forgotten.
What isn’t forgotten, however, is Pinki and Ponki’s absolute desire for titillating adventures. When James is doing nothing but studying, they make their presence known and share their displeasure at such a tedious task.
And when they are not getting enough attention, they lead him to Regulus. And sometimes, they lead Regulus to him.
Apparently, their telepathic connection extends to his chest loving, Jittie sucking boyfriend.
Regulus sneaks into his room more often than not. Not to see him, apparently. Because his personality pales in comparison - which would be quite rude if James didn’t truly get off on the fact that his partner looked like a Victorian Twink.
“What are you doing here, love?”
“They needed me,” is what Regulus answers before he presses his face into his chest with a satisfied groan.
Unusual, really. How dependent the four of them had gotten since the death of the imposter. Maybe it’s a trauma response, James can’t rightly tell.
“I need you more,” James mutters petulantly. His nipples shake in disagreement and he promptly slaps his hands over them. They vibrate furiously against his hands, desperate to be heard.
Regulus looks offended, “Don’t kill them! I didn’t spend all my life lusting after them just for you to shut them up when they want me most.”
He takes his hands and moves them away, mouth latching on to Pinki and giving one large slurp. James holds the back of his hair, pushing him further.
He thinks he heard Regulus telling him his oxygen is cut off. Followed by ‘But who needs to breathe when you have James “Fat Tits” Potter smothering you.’
When James notices that Regulus has blacked out, he sees a smile on his face.
Regulus ignores the age old advice of ‘don’t go towards the light’ and full sprints towards it. Finally, eternal peace.
Only, he’s not met by the pearly gates of heaven - not that he thinks heaven could compete with the very things that just killed him - but with a man. It… might be a man. A very green, unusual looking man.
His ears are like thin antennas on the side of his head, his eyes are like a bugs as he observes him with a foul expression. He’s wearing a raggedy red sack kind of outfit, holding a large candy cane in his hand.
Regulus blinks at him.
“What are you doing in my afterlife?” The thing asks in a thick, Scottish accent. “It’s not your time yet.”
“Are you God?”
The thing looks annoyed, “I’m Shrek-ta. Ho, ho, ho.”
“The fuck is that?”
“I don’t know, ask the writers of this damn thing.”
Regulus doesn’t know what that means. He doesn’t bother to question him either, mostly because he only cares about one thing.
“What do you mean it’s not my time yet?”
Shrek-ta rolls his eyes, “You shouldn’t be dead. Stop sticking your face in mens chests.”
Regulus stays silent.
“Promise me and I’ll send you back.”
He refuses to make that promise.
Shrek-ta sighs, “I don’t get paid enough for this. Drown in boobs all you like, I don’t care anymore.”
With a wave of his large, green hand, Shrek-ta vanishes. And Regulus feels himself being pulled away again.
Regulus wakes up in the Hospital Wing with a dry mouth and a stiff neck. He blinks awake and is immediately greeted by the concerned face of Madam Pince. She tuts at him, looking down at her chart with immense disappointment.
“What happened?” Regulus asks, his voice hoarse.
“You died,” she says.
Oh. Did he? He thinks back.
The last thing he remembers is sneaking into the Gryffindor Common Rooms to see James, the irresistible allure of that dumptruck and three glorious nipples calling to him. He remembers losing himself in the heaviness of the Jitties, face smothered by two pillows and-
Ah.
“Did I suffocate?”
Madam Pince just looks terribly exhausted with him.
“Potter brought you here and we managed to… revive you. You kept mumbling in your sleep. Something about the Creamer 2000.”
Regulus sighs, “I would love to have it in my mouth again.”
“And something about… Shrek-ta.”
“Mhm. Hot.”
The door slams open before they can continue to talk. A good job, too. Regulus’ mind has began to wander, images of tight buns and creamy toppings. He looks over to see James walk in, boobs bouncing as he runs over.
Pinki and Ponki squeal in delight.
Regulus won’t mind dying while smothered by them again.
“What were you thinking?” James asks.
“To die in your Jitties is a heavenly way to die,” is Regulus’ response.
Once again, no one notices Jaqie in the window with her hands pressed to the glass so she can better see the moment Regulus buries his face in James’ chest. “Jitties,” she whispers, a string of drool stretching from her lips down to her shirt.
Regulus stands in front of the door to the room of requirement. His asscheeks are flapping in excitement. He’s holding a letter James had sneakily passed him during dinner. It said to meet him in the astronomy tower at midnight.
He’s clipped his toenails and is wearing his favorite festive underwear, the ones that say ‘It’s not going to lick itself’ right over his balls.
Opening the door, he is immediately greeted by the potent smell of peppermint and chocolate, and looking around the room, he sees why.
The walls are decorated with giant candy canes, the floor is covered in chocolate bars, and there are all kinds of sweets floating in the air.
But right there in the middle on a five-foot-long gingerbread man lays James.
He is covered in melted chocolate that compliments his warm brown skin. But most important of all, he is wearing a tophat and a velvet coat with nothing underneath.
Pinki and Ponki are immensely hard, and they twist in excited circles when they feel Regulus enter through the door. His third nipple—Regulus thinks James named it Inki, is pulsating violently.
Regulus' mouth instantly waters at the sight. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d be spending his Christmas Eve this way.
James flutters his eyelashes when he sees him, and his face splits into a large smile. He beckons Regulus over with his fingers, and Regulus goes, of course.
His knees hit the gingerbread by James’ chest, always close to his chest. What would Regulus do without those huge giant chesticles? Slowly, he runs slender fingers through the chocolate that covers them and pops them into his mouth.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees James’ cock twitch excitedly.
He quirks an eyebrow at James.
“You want to wonk, my willy love?” James says.
And Regulus can’t help his thighs from clenching at the words.
“Desperately.”
And that’s apparently all that James needs because he’s on him in seconds.
Willies are being wonked, asses are being clapped, and at the end of the night Regulus leaves with a new kink where he enjoys being called ‘my little oompa loompa.’
Do we even need to say it? Jaqie is peepin’. She’s in that window, face up against that glass, tongue lolled out like a dog’s—peepin’. The world could end and Jaqie would still, despite all odds, be in a window somewhere—peepin’.
Long may the Peepin’ Peeper reign.
Jaqie leans back in a reclining chair, shuts a heavy book with a pair of nipples adorning the cover, and closes her eyes. At her feet sit four women: Lily, Mary, Marlene, and Dorcas. Jaqie pats each of their heads in turn and says, “The world always wonders where I come from, but you see, I am all around. Watching.”
The girls nod in unison.
“Did you enjoy story time? ‘The Jitties’ is my favorite holiday tale.”
“We did!” says Mary.
“Really fascinating about the nipples,” remarks Dorcas.
“Is Shrek-ta from a film?” asks Marlene.
Jaqie looks to Lily. “And you?”
Lily leans on Jaqie’s knee and looks up at her, batting long lashes. “Just happy to listen to the Other Mother tell us a story. You’re a queen amongst men.”
“Ah, I love my bad bitches,” Jaqie sighs, laughing when the four women all find some way to sit on her reclining chair. “Bad bitches everywhere.”
Jaqie makes out with all of them.
Merry Christmas!
THE END
