Chapter Text
Stiles stripped off his clothes and pulled on the horrible gown that left him feeling horrendously exposed. It felt like he could fidget a tear into this thing and leave himself naked. He’d spent far more time with doctors than any person ever should have to, although admittedly that had largely been the fault of his own stupidity, and he could never get used to these gowns. But he got it on and sat on the padded examination table that had been rigged up in the small office. The medical table looked very out of place next to the teacher’s desk, but at least this way Stiles didn’t have to trek out to the hospital for this bizarre examination. Other equipment had been wheeled in for the day, a huge chunk of the school transformed to allow the male students to be assessed, though no one had given a particularly satisfactory explanation as to why. The doctor came back into the room and smiled pleasantly at him. He was holding a clipboard in one hand, which he checked now.
“What name do you prefer to be called?” he asked, which was undoubtedly his way of asking how the hell to pronounce Stiles’ name.
“Stiles,” he said. “Just Stiles.”
“OK, Stiles, I’m going to do a brief physical examination now. Nothing to worry about.”
Of course, someone telling him there was nothing to worry about instantly made him worry. He tapped his fingers nervously against the edge of the table as the doctor took standard readings of pulse and blood pressure, both a little higher than average but probably due to the stress of having to be examined. Eye responses and reflexes were normal. The doctor measured height and weight. He listened to Stiles’ heart and breathing with a stethoscope. Stiles did a fitness test involving stepping up and down on blocks for a couple of minutes and then having his pulse taken afterwards. Everything seemed perfectly normal, though there was nothing to explain why every boy in school was being put through this.
The doctor remained calmly cheerful throughout, and then he sat Stiles back onto the table and started asking standard questions about his health. Any recent illness, was he up to date on his immunisations, any allergies, any chronic conditions. The doctor had access to Stiles’ medical records, but he was getting Stiles to confirm the relevant points. Stiles felt that the whole thing was a colossal waste of time, but he was supposed to be in chemistry right now with Mr Harris, so he wasn’t too upset about it all.
Then the questions got personal.
“Are you sexually active?” the doctor asked, in the same calm tone he’d used to check Stiles’ history of broken bones.
Stiles tapped his fingers nervously on the edge of the table.
“Erm,” he said, “it depends on how you define active.”
“Are you engaged in any sexual behaviour with another person or people?” the doctor asked. “I’m not including kissing here, but anything, shall we say, that involves going below the waist.”
“Well,” Stiles said, “when you put it that way...” meaning that another person had to be involved, “no.”
“Have you ever been sexually active?”
“No. Why? Is that was this is about? Has there been a rash of STIs or something?”
The doctor ignored Stiles’ question and continued.
“You’ve never given or received oral sex? You’ve never had penetrative sex with another person? Been given a hand job by another person?”
“Can we just assume the answer is no and move on?” Stiles asked. “I’ll happily detail my grandfather’s heart attack history and my dad’s high blood pressure for you if we can move on from this subject.”
“I’m sorry, Stiles. I know this must be embarrassing, particularly for a sixteen year old, but I must be absolutely certain that you’ve never been involved in any sexual activity with another person.”
“Why?”
“It’s part of the assessment,” the doctor said.
“Yeah, but why? What’s the point of these assessments?”
Once again, the question was ignored. The doctor just told Stiles to lie back on the bed for the final part of the assessment. Thankfully this didn’t seem to involve any needles. Unfortunately, it did involve the doctor’s hands going for Stiles’ genitals. There was nothing sexual about it, but still Stiles didn’t like the idea of those hands pressing against his balls. Stiles wondered if the guy was feeling for cancer lumps or something. Stiles looked away and tried to think only about the fact that this was now almost over.
Something cold slid over Stiles’ penis. He tried not to think about it, assuming this was just some medical instrument for measuring something. Then he felt something tight wrapping around the base of his penis and his ballsack. There was an ominous click. Stiles pushed himself up on his elbows to try and see what was going on, but the paper of the gown was in the way.
“What’s going on?” Stiles asked.
“Stand up please,” the doctor said.
“What did you just do?”
Stiles got to his feet, not to obey the doctor but so he could pull the gown aside and see what was happening. There was a metal cage around his penis, held on by a ring that ran around his shaft and balls. Stiles might not have any sexual experience, but he had an internet connection and an active curiosity. He knew a chastity device when he saw one. With this thing on, he wouldn’t be able to get hard.
“What the hell are you doing?” Stiles demanded.
But while Stiles was standing there, trying to figure out what had just happened, the doctor had kept working. A curved piece of metal attached to the back of the cock ring and the doctor raised this up now to lie tightly up the line of Stiles’ ass. A metal band around Stiles’ waist held it in place. As the doctor stepped back, Stiles tugged at it, trying to find a catch or some way to get the thing off him, but it seemed to be locked in place. It seemed obvious, given all the questions about sex earlier and the cage around his cock, that this metal rod against his ass was intended to ensure he wasn’t penetrated. His lower half was entirely off limits for anything sexual.
“What the hell?” Stiles asked again. “Take this thing off me!”
“I’m sorry, Stiles. It’s only a temporary measure. This letter will explain.”
The doctor opened up a box on the teacher’s desk. It contained a large number of sealed envelopes. He took one out and held it out to Stiles, who took it automatically. He needed something that would afford an explanation. The doctor also got out a packet of antibacterial wipes.
“These will be helpful for cleaning up after you defecate,” the doctor explained, handing them over. Stiles hadn’t even thought of that. Crapping with that metal bar in the way wouldn’t be pleasant. He stared at the wipes.
“No,” Stiles said. “No, you’re taking this thing off right now. I don’t know what kind of games you’re playing but you can’t do this sort of thing to me. I don’t care if this is some crazy new medical treatment but you can’t do this sort of thing without my consent.”
“Without the consent of your legal guardian,” the doctor corrected. “You’re a minor. Your father signed the forms consenting to this assessment.”
“My dad wouldn’t agree to you sticking some kind of mediaeval torture device on me!”
“It’s hardly a torture device. And, as I said, the device is temporary. The letter will explain. I will leave you to put your clothes on. Please be prompt. The next student will be expected in five minutes.”
“I don’t give a damn about the next student!” Stiles snapped. But the doctor had already left the room.
Stiles wanted to throw something. He wanted to kick something. He reached down beneath his legs and tried to tug at the device, trying to get the thing to come off, but all he succeeded in doing was yanking at his genitals.
Which left his other choice, which was to get his clothes on, go to his dad, and get his dad to arrest that doctor for sexual harassment because there was no way in hell this could be legal.
Stiles grabbed his clothes and pulled them on. His jeans felt a little too tight now, his caged cock sitting uncomfortably in them. He tried to adjust his clothes and thought he’d got them feeling alright, but the second he started walking, he felt aware of the weight down there, of the metal squeezing his balls and pressing into his ass. Someone was going to pay for this.
He shoved the wipes into his backpack, which he slung on his back, grabbed the letter, and left the office which had been turned over to the doctors for these assessments today. He got into the corridor and saw Scott a little way down the hall.
“You waited for me?” Stiles asked.
“It was this or go back to chemistry,” Scott said. He glanced at his watch. “If we walk slowly, we’ll get back to class right when the bell rings.”
He seemed surprisingly cheerful, particularly given the chastity thing would surely put a major dent in his relationship with Allison. Then Scott looked down at the white envelope still clutched unopened in Stiles’ hand.
“What’s that?” Scott asked. Stiles only noticed then that Scott wasn’t holding an envelope. It was possible he’d put it in a pocket or his bag, but he was looking at the one Stiles held with curiosity.
Just then, one of the other doors opened. Jared came out in a rush. He hurried over to the nearest trashcan, bent over it, and vomited. Despite the smell, Stiles and Scott rushed over to make sure he was alright.
“Hey, Jared, you OK?” Scott asked. Stiles just stared at the letter Jared was holding. He’d opened up the envelope and now held it and its contents clutched so tightly in one hand that the paper was tearing.
Stiles shoved a finger under the flap of his envelope and ripped it open, pulling out the paper inside. It took a couple of minutes to read the letter, longer for his brain to process it. It was an invitation from the alpha of the Hale werewolf pack to a party held in honour of his nephew. His nephew wished to choose a consort from those physically suitable. The device Stiles was fitted with was to ensure he remained physically suitable. The chastity device would be removed at the end of the party. The wording made the implication very clear: if Stiles didn’t go, he might never get this thing off. Stiles crumpled the letter in his fist.
“Fucking werewolves,” Stiles muttered.
Jared stopped vomiting in the trashcan.
“They can’t make me go,” he said.
“I think they can,” Stiles said. “I need to talk to my dad. There’s got to be a way out of this.”
“Out of what?” Scott asked. “What’s going on?”
He pried the letter out of Stiles’ grip and smoothed it out so he could read it.
“The werewolf pack wants someone to be a sex toy,” Stiles said, “and they have invited all the virgin boys to a party so they can pick who it’s going to be. I don’t suppose your girlfriend has got some wolfsbane I could use? Or maybe a shotgun?”
***
“I can’t believe you signed a consent form for this!” Stiles yelled across the kitchen. His dad was backed up against the counter. On any other day, he’d be berating Stiles for yelling. The fact that he wasn’t suggested he knew he’d messed up.
“All you have to do is make small talk with werewolves for an evening,” his dad said, “while eating their free food. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“The big deal? A werewolf wants to take his pick of all the innocent virgins in Beacon Hills to deflower me or something, and you don’t think it’s a big deal?”
“You can always refuse. Even if they pick you, you’re entitled to say no.”
Stiles scoffed at that, “Somehow I don’t think the alpha likes taking no for an answer.”
“Then don’t go to the party. You’ve been given an invitation, but they can’t force you to go. Simply don’t attend and then there’s no chance of them picking you.”
“Don’t attend?” Stiles asked. “There’s a cage around my dick that they’ll only take off if I go to that party!”
His dad froze for an instant, then his expression changed to one of confusion and concern. It was clear from this reaction that he hadn’t known about the chastity device that was currently locked around Stiles’ most private anatomy. He’d had it on for a few hours now and it was already feeling frustrating. The knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to even jerk off for three days was making him think about jerking off, which was making the cage incredibly uncomfortable.
“Was this in the consent form?” Stiles asked. “Because if it wasn’t, we can go up to their mansion and demand they take this off and then sue them for sexual harassment while we’re at it.”
His dad looked away.
“There may have been a clause in the consent form about ensuring that those who received an invitation remained eligible.”
“Dad!”
“I didn’t know the alpha would pull something like this! Usually packs just hire a famous band to play at the party in order to encourage attendance.”
“I can’t believe you signed a form consenting to this without even asking me,” Stiles complained.
“I didn’t realise it would be such a big deal,” his dad said. “As an alpha, Peter’s style is... very different for Talia’s. But I can talk to him. I can officially withdraw you from consideration and he should remove any...” He gestured vaguely towards Stiles’ pants.
“Should?” Stiles asked. He wished his dad had used a more definite word.
“I can retract my consent. You’ll be stricken from the invitation list and then there will be no reason for the pack to have any... precautions in place.”
His dad still didn’t seem completely confident. Stiles wanted to go along with his dad’s plan. He wanted to argue with Alpha Hale for ever implementing this plan. But there was a possibility that the alpha might take Stiles off the invitation list but never remove the chastity cage. Then Stiles could be stuck with this thing on forever. Besides, his dad actively opposing the local alpha was probably a lethal move for his career. His dad was elected to the post of sheriff and the packs held a lot of sway.
Stiles sighed, “I’ll go to the damn party.”
“Just remember, you’re allowed to tell them no,” his dad said. “And you can always just go and hang out with Scott all evening.”
That wasn’t a possibility, since Scott hadn’t received an invitation. Not that Stiles could tell his dad that, because that would mean admitting that underage sex was going on. So Stiles just nodded. Friday night was going to be hell.