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Stiles wanted to forget about the whole thing, he really did. Except he couldn’t.
He dreamed about it, about how he had to push out those fucking pearls, so, so huge that he thought he would die. About Deaton, plunging four fingers into him - almost disinterested, like it was nothing - to check if all the pearls were out. He dreamed of Peter, holding him through it, and them fucking him.
Werewolves apparently had knots. Not like it really mattered to Stiles at that point, his hole was so loose that he barely felt the stretch - and he was busy with Deaton forcing his cock down his throat.
He wanted to make it undone, to travel back in time and make a different decision… But.
For days, his ass felt… open. He had to reach back when he was in the bathroom to make sure that it wasn’t true, that it did actually go back to normal. After the soreness was gone it felt okay, but the phantom feeling of it still lingered. Just like the eyes of Deaton and Peter. Whenever he was with the pack, at least one of them was always there.
Stiles couldn’t make a move without feeling them watching. It was driving him mad. It had been a week since the… incubus incident happened, but he didn’t dare to touch himself, afraid that his mind would bring up one of the memories, and terrified that they wouldn’t make him less turned on.
Hypervigiliance all over again. When, after a pack meeting he couldn’t start his jeep and had to walk home, he wasn’t even surprised when Peter’s car slowed down beside him.
He stopped as the passenger door opened, not daring to move.
“Get in, we have places to be,” Peter told him with a grin.
“I…” he had to swallow, throat too dry. “I don’t want to.”
The werewolf laughed, the sound echoing on the empty street.
“Oh, dear. That was a lie,” he said, still giggling, like it was the best joke he ever heard. Stiles started shaking. It was? He… he didn’t know.
Peter actually had to wipe his eyes before he could talk.
“Get in the car, you lying whore,” he ordered, and Stiles… His body was moving on it’s own accord, slipping into the seat and closing the door.
They went to the animal clinic.
The door was locked, but Peter tapped his phone, and a few seconds later Deaton appeared letting them in. He didn’t even look at Stiles.
He expected to be led to one of the examination rooms, but instead they headed towards the back, and down a flight of stairs. Stiles didn’t remember ever seeing that door before, he was pretty sure even Scott didn’t know that there was a basement under the building.
The vet walked up front, with them following. Peter casually grabbed Stiles’ ass as they walked, not commenting on the way he jumped at the contact.
“We managed to sell the pearls. You wouldn’t believe what people are willing to pay for those things. Remember the smallest one? It was around the size of a billiard ball,” he explained, squeezing his ass cheek. Stiles shuddered.
“Well, it sold for twelve thousand. And the others… Let’s just say, we won’t need to worry about money for a while. Actually, I was just talking about getting another incubus for you with Alan yesterday, you know, since the last one was offed by Scotty” Peter said conversationally.
Stiles’ breath hitched. Did that mean… Was it all planned? No, no. That couldn’t be.
“But for now we thought it would be better to lay low for a while,” the werewolf continued without missing a beat. “And anyway, we promised you presents.”
Finally, Alan opened a door in the basement. After the dimly lit corridor Stiles was blinded for a second by the bright light, and by the time his eyes cleared he could hear the click of the lock behind him.
“I’ve already sent a text to your father that you have some supernatural business to attend to tonight. And he will have a double shift tomorrow, so we have plenty of time,” the vet said, speaking for the first time.
Stiles barely heard him, eyes wide, as he took in the table in the middle of the room.
It was a short metal examination table, just like the ones in the clinic, with adjustable height, but this had some… attachments. There was a metal rod standing at one end, with a metal collar attached on top of it. Like a pillory. Then, there was also a leather covered chest rest - narrow and short - and four metal cuffs - probably for wrists and ankles.
It looked terrifying.
Peter stepped behind him, hooking his chin over his shoulder.
“Do you like it? It’s perfect for holding down little bitches who haven’t yet learned what’s good for them,” he whispered, sneaking a hand around Stiles and squeezing down on his cock.
Shit. Shit, he was getting hard. It didn’t slip Peter’s notice either.
“Oh? So you do like it! Alan, he likes it! Can you believe this?”
The vet was busy puttering around on a metal cart, he didn’t even look up as he answered.
“Yes, I think our little slut has already proved that he’s sicker than the both of us combined,” he said conversationally. “Now get him out of his clothes and on the table.”
Peter hummed, fingers already working on the boy’s clothes. Stiles just stood there, shaking with both terror and confusion, letting it happen.
He did, actually, tried to struggle when he realized that he was already naked, but Peter jest grabbed his throat and squeezed, until he grew dizzy from lack of oxygen.
“Now, now. nasty bitches don’t get to breathe. Do you want to breathe, Stiles?”
He nodded his head as best as he could, and the werewolf let go of his throat, lifting his body without difficulty and putting him on the table.
It only took two minutes for all the padlocks to click into place.
His whole body was trembling, but he couldn’t move. The chest rest and the metal collar were just the right height, making sure that he couldn’t get any leverage to do anything other than stay completely still. Just to be sure, Peter picked up his own belt, and buckled it around his torso, a bit under his pecs, and pulled it tight enough to make it hard to breathe.
“All set,” he said, satisfied with his handiwork.
“I beg to differ,” Deaton said, walking up to them. He was holding… holy shit, what were those?
Peter was practically bouncing with joy.
He rounded the table to get into Stiles’ - now limited - line of vision.
“You know, Stiles, after last time, we realized that we’ve been painfully neglecting a certain part of your anatomy. But, don’t worry, we will make up for it with these beauties.”
Stiles tensed as the vet stepped close. He could feel something cold against the skin around his nipples - probably the frame of the device - and then blinding pain as the clamps attached to it bit into his nipple. It hurt so much that he couldn’t help crying out. He was somehow hoping that it would be over soon, but instead the feeling grew even more intense, before his body got a bit used to it.
When he opened his eyes, Peter was smiling at him.
“They are nipple stretchers,” he informed him. “If used regularly, they can have a permanent effect.”
“No, no, no… god, please,” Stiles whispered, and then shouted as Deaton repeated the procedure with is other nipple.
Peter slapped him in the face.
“Okay, first of all. We all know you’re a sick little whore who got off on laying eggs. I don’t want to hear any more ‘no’s from you tonight. Understood?”
Stiles just looked at him dumbly, trying to think through the pain in his breasts. The large metal devices were heavy, and the chest-rest was just narrow enough that they could hang down freely on both sides of it.
Peter got bored of waiting and hit him again, harder this time.
“Y-yes,” he managed finally.
“Good. Now, secondly. I think it’s established that you’re lucky we are even wasting time on you, I mean, the only other creature to ever show interest in you was a sex demon who got paid, for god’s sake…”
Stiles could feel his eyes filling with tears, even as his cock twitched, slowly filling as it hung between his parted legs.
“…and that means that we deserve some respect. From now on, you will refer to me as Alpha, and to Alan as Master. Clear?”
“Yeah,” he whispered, not expecting the next hit. It had his ears ringing.
Deaton sighed in exasperation.
“Dear lord, you are one dumb bitch. What did I just tell you?” Peter asked with an eye roll.
Stiles licked his lips, feeling dizzy, but he wasn’t sure it was from getting hit.
“Yes, Alpha.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Peter said with a smile. Stiles felt the tension in his stomach loosen.
Stiles couldn’t stop crying.
It was hard to breath, and not just from the sobs wrecking his body; Deaton had his cock stuffed down his throat, thrusting lazily. Stiles wished he could close his mouth, or even just flex his jaw, but it was impossible with the spider-gag spreading it wide open.
Everything hurt.
But the worst was Peter, pumping his fist slowly in Stiles’ ass.
When the werewolf pulled out Stiles’ eyes rolled back into his head. He missed the rhythm, and forgot to breath when Deaton pulled back; soon, there were gray spots dancing in his vision.
“Finally. It looks like how it should always look,” Peter said. He pushed two fingers of each hand into his hole and pulled his opening apart. There was a new rush of tears sliding down Stiles face as he felt the air brush against his insides.
“Aw, so pretty. Come on, Alan, have a look. It’s rare to see such a lewd, gaping asshole,” he said. Deaton sighed, put pulled out. There was a thick line of saliva between the tip of his dick and Stiles’ lips.
“I’m busy,” the vet chided, but he did round the table.
Stiles cock twitched, knowing that both of them were looking at him. Looking into him.
Peter released him, but he could feel that his asshole didn’t close completely, no matter how hard he was trying.
“What do you think?” Peter asked, the pride in his voice obvious.
“Well, on one hand, at least now he looks like a pig on both ends,” the vet said casually, like he was examining an animal. “On the other, I hope you realize that you’ve made him too loose for you to have a good time in. Even with your knot.”
“Shit… Wait, let me check,” Peter said, and as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the fist was back again, squelching wetly and forcing his way into him. Stiles whined, high pitched. There was saliva dripping down his chin.
“Shut up, you gross little cunt,” the werewolf told him just as his hand popped in. He kept pushing and his arm slid in, almost to his elbow. It was painful, but not as overwhelming as it had been the first hour he was fisted.
“Damn, you’re right. A horse wouldn’t be satisfied with something this saggy,” Peter said, pulling out fast, uncaring of his resulting moans of plea… pain. There was another drop of precome dripping to the table. There must have been a pool under Stiles by now.
Hands were touching him, parting his cheeks for a better look, sliding on the excess lube covering his crack.
Stiles heard Deaton humming, then simultaneously the sound of him spitting and saliva hitting his rim.
“Disgusting,” he said finally. “I’m not giving you his mouth, you would ruin that too.”
Stiles shook, hard enough that the pillory was rattling with him.
Alan was in front of him again, pushing inside and down his throat in one smooth motion, making him gag. The man didn’t care, just started up his slow, leisurely fucking.
Stiles could hear Peter walk around.
“Hey, can I borrow this ruler?” The werewolf asked. Deaton probably nodded, Stiles didn’t see, eyes closed tight in anticipation.
Just like he feared, a second later Peter was pulling his ass cheeks apart and then…
There was pain exploding through his body, sharp and bright as the ruler hit his hole directly, slapping hard against the oversensitive rim. Stiles cried, unable to do anything to stop it.
To stop his cock from jerking in answer.
Peter didn’t pull his punches; the hits came down fast and cruel and in a few minutes Stiles’ whole world was narrowed down to his ass, to his entrance - it was twitching and blinking, trying to close up under the relentless pain, but it didn’t work.
When the werewolf finally stopped, he sobbed in relief. It felt like his hole was on fire.
“Well. That didn’t work. I mean, it’s swollen and red, and looks like an army had a party in it, but still gaping.”
He patted Stiles’ butt, almost affectionately.
“I don’t think anyone will be willing to have sex with you after this. One look at this ugly, loose hole and they will be running to the hills. I guess we will have to pay extra to the next incubus,” he said.
Deaton’s hips were going faster now, his balls hitting Stiles’ vet chin on every push. The vet grabbed his hair, making him look up into his eyes.
“It’s true. You haven’t seen it yet, but… I know one or two things about the body, and that dirty fuckhole you used to call your ass? It’s going to stay like that. I think we should start thinking about how we will stop you from shitting yourself…”
Stiles sobbed as the man quickened his pace more and more as he talked.
He didn’t want to stay like that… Oh god… Oh god… His cock just wouldn’t stop fucking twitching.
Deaton was hammering into him now, and Stiles was resigned to feeling his come splash into his throat, but instead he pulled out in the last second, pushing the tip of Stiles’ nose up with his thumb, and the head of his cock against the underside of it. He tried to jerk away, but there was no escape from the come shooting right into his nasal passage, making him choke.
When the vet was finished there was jizz dripping into the back of his throat and sliding down from his nostrils. It felt strange. He was feeling strange.
Deaton took his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture.
Peter came up to them and burst out laughing as he saw Stiles face.
“Oh, that’s gold,” he said after he calmed down, unclasping the gag. Stiles’ jaw hung open, his muscles too tired to close his mouth.
“Just look at you! Like the hungry little cum-whore you are…”
He probably would have continued, but Master apparently found what he was looking for. Stiles felt confused. No, Deaton. Deaton found what he was looking for.
“Here, this will probably improve his other hole,” he said. Peter chuckled, showing the item to Stiles.
“See this? It’s a fleshlight. I’m going to stuff it into your ass and maybe it will be tight enough to get me off. But first off, lick, give him a nice little rimjob.”
Stiles stared at the toy with wide eyes - it was shaped liked the ass of a horse.
He stared a bit too long, because Peter slapped him, hard.
“Come on, get on with it. If you’re so fascinated, I’m sure I can arrange for you to dip your tongue into the real thing.”
Stiles swallowed nervously, and obediently started to lick the horse’s hole. His tongue felt numb from Master’s cock rubbing against it for such a long time.
He tried hard, but Peter just sighed exasperatedly after a few minutes and took it away.
“You’re useless,” he said, spitting on his face before leaving. His saliva clung to Stiles’ eyelashes before sliding down his face. Stiles didn’t mind very much…
Deaton moved to his side, bending down to have a look at his nipples. Stiles almost forgot about them, but then Master was poking around his stretched flesh, making the pain flare bright again.
Stiles could hear as Alph… No. No, no no, Peter squirted some lube on the toy, but all too soon he was pushing it inside. It wasn’t actually very bad, but Stiles has gotten to the point where even a careful caress felt like electricity for his insides.
He moaned as the toy slid all the way in, stopped by the wider part at the opening, and then Peter was fucking him, - no, fucking the toy stuck in his ass. It was strange to feel it so muted, through the thick layer of silicone, but it was still more than he could take. He couldn’t help moaning from the sensation, and then crying out a second later when Deaton tightened the screws on his nipple stretchers.
He was so tired… everything was too much.
He could feel his mind slipping away, but before he could lose consciousness Master was reaching under him, pinching the head of his cock and Stiles… Stiles was coming.
Stiles brain was fuzzy when he woke up. He was lying on the cold tile floor, and Dea… no. Master. Master was doing something with his cock. When he looked he saw… a thing. It was made of metal, and as he watched Master pushed the tube in the middle of it into his piss slit.
Stiles whined. It burned going in, but before his cock could even twitch the rest of it slid over his shaft, and a second later the little padlock was securing it in place. Oh.
“Finally decided to join us?” Alpha asked. He was kneeling between Stiles’ legs, fingering his asshole. It felt loose, he could barely notice the stretch, even though there were three, no four of them pumping into him.
Master took up another item, adjusting it. It was kind of like a plug, except it could open.
Stiles thought it looked like a flower.
Alpha saw him staring, and flicked one of his balls to get his attention.
“Are you listening?” he asked. Has he been talking? Stiles didn’t notice.
It took a long time for his mouth to work.
“Yes, Alpha,” he managed finally, barely understandably.
Alpha smiled. He took the device from Master and closed it before pushing it into Stiles ass. He could feel it opening inside him as Alpha tempered with the base.
“Both of your chastities have two keys. One will be with me, the other with Peter,” Master said, twisting his nipples to make him cry out. It hurt, but Master seemed to like the sounds he made.
“Every morning before school, you are going to come by the clinic. I will take it out and give you a nice, big enema. Hm?”
Stiles smiled. Enemas were good. The last time…
“Tha… tha… thank you, Master.”
Alpha chuckled, locking the plug in place before talking.
“And every evening I will go to your room, take it out and milk your prostate dry,” he promised.
Oh. That was nice. Alpha was so nice, and Master too.
“Thank you, Alpha,” Stiles said. It's going to be so good.