Ministry Required Examination for Lycanthropes

“Lupin, Remus.”

An authoritative, feminine voice announced the name to the bland, eggshell waiting room of the werewolf center at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies. Remus stood, stretched his long limbs and turned to see a not unattractive nurse dressed in green medical robes. She led him wordlessly through the hallways behind the waiting room to a small examination room furnished with a sink, commode and various medical supplies. The most imposing structure was an unwelcoming exam table whose bottom half was only leg restraints.

He knew what was going to happen. He’d survived it six times already and he’d do it again, every five years until he died, but that didn’t stop him from hating it. His regular Ministry instigated “examinations” to make sure he wasn’t a threat to those he lived around were the bane of his existence. They were the most frightening, dehumanizing, and painful experiences of his life, including transformations.

“Remove all your clothing and sit on the table,” the nurse said. There was no 'please' about it. She simply barked the order at him. He knew better than to fight it, other werewolves had been quarantined for less. This time more than any other, he knew he couldn’t fight, not when he had so much to go home to. Visions of a certain pink haired Auror drifted across his line of sight as he reached for his belt. When the door to the exam room opened, he thought it was Tonks for a second, but it turned out to be just another nurse, carrying a large medical chart.

Moments later, Remus sat on the bottom edge of the exam table between the restraints. His legs were squeezed tightly together and his hands were folded high on his lap, trying to preserve as much of his non-existent dignity as he could. The chart-carrying nurse moved to examine the scars on his back. She ran a rough, latex-covered glove over some of the larger ones, occasionally making notes on her chart. He stared hard at his toes, trying to ignore the nurses as much as they ignored him. Beyond the waiting room doors werewolves were no longer human, he’d learned that a long time ago.

The sound of a squeaky wheel made him look up. The first nurse was pushing an IV tree with a full enema bag towards him. She stopped inches from his knees and continued with her preparations, checking clamps and adjusting valves. The voice of chart nurse made him jump.

“This is a Muggle enema. We need to examine the contents of your bowels to ascertain if you have ingested human flesh. Lie back and place your legs in the stirrups.”

“B-but I’m not feral,” stammered Remus. “I’ve never… You have no reason to check for…”

“Lie back,” demanded the nurse seizing his arm and shoulder and pushing him forcefully back onto the exam table, “and place your legs in the stirrups.”

Without further protest, he allowed them to position him on the table. His knees and ankles were strapped to the cold metal leaving him completely exposed to the entire room. It surprised him slightly that they let his arms rest casually at his side. He stared at the ceiling trying not to blush in embarrassment as chart nurse reached between his legs to hold his cock and balls away from his opening.

“This will be easier if you relax,” said the other nurse flatly, giving Remus no indication that she’d stop if he didn’t relax. He took a calming breath as a lubed, latex covered finger nudged his rosebud and set his face in a grimace as it slid inside. The pressure as the nurse twisted inside him, coating him, wasn’t painful but definitely was uncomfortable. She pushed in a second finger before pulling out altogether. He was grateful for the brief respite before the nurse put the cold, hard nozzle in him. She jerked and twisted it until she was satisfied with its placement, then turned on the flow. Remus gasped, but whether it was because of the water pouring into him, or chart nurse removing her hand was anybody’s guess.

Chart nurse resumed her inspection of his scars, rolling his head from side to side to check his scalp, face, and neck. She raised his arms over his head while he stared at the black speckled ceiling wondering if they did that for color or just to make the ceiling interesting because they new generations of embarrassed werewolves would seek solace in it. It was probably just for color, he thought, because Merlin forbid they do anything to actually help a werewolf.

Apparently satisfied with her inspection of his appendages, chart nurse moved to his chest and abdomen. She took tissue samples of his bite scar. It was odd that he would have scars on top of scars, but, he comforted himself with the fact that at least he couldn’t feel these new scars. She jabbed at the skin of his stomach, which Remus didn’t appreciate very much, considering the enormous pressure that was starting to build there thanks to what felt like a ten gallon enema. But he was hardly more thrilled when she moved between his legs, poking and prodding, pushing and pulling.

By the time she reached his toes, Remus had very little attention to give her. A fine sheen of sweat covered his face and torso and slow, deep breaths demanded more and more thought. When he cautiously raised his head to look at the enema bag, he found it almost empty, which was a small blessing he could be grateful for. It must be easier for a grown man to take an enema than a small boy, he mused shifting uncomfortably on the table and recalling a painful memory from his first exam at the age of eight. The ministry just barely denied quarantine because he couldn’t hold the enema, mainly because of his age at the time, but the supervising Healer seemed to think it was resistance.

The nurses’ voices, holding a conference at the counter, brought Remus back to the present. He heard one of them say something about taking the samples to the lab and then the door opened and shut. There was silence except for the gurgle of the enema bag as it spilled the last of its contents inside him. Thank Merlin, thought Remus desperately, needing to release. It must have been chart nurse who left for the lab, because the other one moved around him, unfastening the stirrups’ restraints. She finally stood between his legs, one hand lifting his cock and balls, the other wrapped around the enema nozzle.

“I’m removing the nozzle and then leaving the room. From that point you will have half an hour to expel your bowel contents into the commode and clean up. I’ll return to administer the second.”

The next thing Remus knew was a profound nakedness between his legs. The nozzle and the nurses’ hand were gone in a sudden jerk. The muscles in his arse clenched desperately to stop the flood of water rushing southward. A slam of the door told him the nurse had left and he sprang for the commode. For the next twenty minutes he sat on the commode, leaning back against the wall, massaging his stomach and breathing deeply in relief. He tried to relax and not rush the process, but he worried that he wouldn’t be done in half an hour, that they’d make him take the second if he was ready or not, that he wouldn’t get everything out, that they’d make him do it more than twice (he knew they wouldn’t hesitate).

When the nurse returned, Remus was in the same position he’d started, sitting at the bottom of the exam table, knees tight together, folded hands preserving some dignity. He watched her back as she stood at the counter preparing the next bag, but as soon as she turned toward him, his eyes fell to his toes. Soon the twisted leg of the IV tree entered his peripheral vision. Without waiting for the instruction he leaned back on his elbows and arranged his legs in the stirrups. As the nurse secured him in place, he laid fully on the table and shifted, trying to get comfortable, although it was relatively difficult when his dignity was hanging completely exposed.

He clenched his fists as two gloved fingered lubed and dilated him again and grimaced as the nozzle was inserted to the nurses’ satisfaction. She turned on the flow and went off to the counter probably to make notes or add information to his chart. Maybe the results from his bite tissue came back from the lab, Remus wondered vaguely, but what they were looking for he really didn’t know.

Without chart nurse to distract him, he studied the flecks on the ceiling trying to find shapes and pictures in them. For a brief second, he thought he could see Mad-Eye Moody’s nose, but decided that it wasn’t really much of an accomplishment. The pressure began to build inside him, so he abandoned his game in favor of deep breathing and self-administered stomach massages, urging the solution higher up in his intestines and relieving some of the pressure. Sooner that he expected, the enema bag gurgled to empty and the nurse prepared to remove it.

“I’ll return in half an hour,” she said, removing the nozzle suddenly and disappearing out the door. Remus made sure he was in the same position when she returned, sitting sheepishly on the exam table. The nurse waved her wand at the contents of the commode, once, twice, three times, before moving to make a note in his chart. She began collecting materials for, Remus assumed, another enema. Not wanting to prolong the third and hopefully final procedure, he laid back on the table before she even approached him. It was nothing she hadn’t already seen, he figured, drumming his fingers on his stomach. His head snapped up in surprise when the nurse gripped his cock and fed it through a clear cylinder.

“This is a procedure to extract your sperm for study,” she explained, as she situated straps around his thighs to hold the tube in place. If Remus hadn’t done this before, her words wouldn’t have helped much. “Stand up,” she demanded again, and Remus pushed himself to his feet. The whole business was rather awkward considering she held on to the cylinder the whole time. Once he was standing, she fastened another strap around his waist. With a hand on his shoulder, she turned him to face the table.

Anticipating her next demand, Remus put his ankles at each end of a spreader bar jutting out from the end of the exam table. The nurse’s hand between his shoulder blades urged him to lean forward onto the table, pressing his cheek into the leathery padding and gripping the sides with his hands. A wide strap held his chest tightly against the table and two metal clicks told him his ankles were confined too. He felt the table vibrate a little as the stirrups swung off to the sides, giving the nurse full access to his arse, which jutted into the air quite defenselessly.

He just wanted the nurse to hurry up and get on with it. Remus wondered if he was shallow for thinking this was the best part of the exam. Compared to enemas and silver testing, being forced to ejaculate didn’t quite seem so bad, even if it was in public. The first time they’d made him do it had definitely been the most embarrassing. At eighteen, he’d barely bucked up the courage to ask girls out let alone have sex, so when they’d put that prostrate massager up his arse, he moaned so loud his father probably heard him in the waiting room. Of course, he’d come with in minutes, so it wasn’t that embarrassing, he supposed.

Two clipping heels announced the arrival of the nurse at his arse. She reached between his legs and pressed the cylinder firmly against the skin of his pelvis before pumping out the air. The pressure of the vacuum had him hard with in seconds. Next she added two clips, one to each ball, which squeezed gently and would later vibrate once the nurse set all the charms. They were much better than the Muggle clothes pins he’d used while trying to recreate the effect in the week after he first experience. He was glad that the ministry was forced to make this pleasurable for him, because it’d probably be hard to wank in pain. Finally, the nurse moved behind him for the last time. Her lube finger pushed inside him, but instead of rough circles, she sought out his prostrate and focused her efforts there. She added the massager next to her finger to make sure it was in the proper position before pulling out.

Already dazed with sensation, Remus suppressed a bizarre urge to thank the nurse as she set the charms on a time release schedule and left him to his wanking. Whether she left the room or stood at the counter with that damn fascinating chart of his didn’t really matter because he was caught up in the gentle squeeze-release pattern of the clips on his balls. He imagined it was Nymphadora’s fingers, torturing him while he bent over his own desk. Then the prostrate massager started moving across the tangle of nerves, sending shock waves to his extremities, particularly the one between his legs. That could be Dora’s tongue, she does amazing things with that after a few simple morphs.

In moments, he was wiggling his arse in the air. If he shifted slightly to the right, the massager would move left and vice versa. Remus was not a dumb man (he was a Hogwarts professor after all), and he used this newfound knowledge to his advantage. With a little practice he was directing the massager expertly around the inside of his arse, shivering occasionally at the sensations he caused. By then, he was painfully hard and overly sensitive. He just needed a little more to push him over the edge. That was when everything started vibrating.

It started with a pleasant tingling in his arse and balls as the charms took effect. The clips squeezed, but did not release. Instead, they squeezed tighter, holding each ball firmly but not painfully. The massager slowed to a stop on the center of his prostrate. Just when Remus became accustomed to the new intensity, the vibrations began. He gripped the edges of the exam table with white knuckles. A shock wave rushed from his balls all the way up his spine. The massager shivered exquisitely as it resumed its long, even strokes, adding a second dimension to his pleasure.

“Tonks,” he grunted in a short breath of air, not caring if anyone heard him. All it took was a few calculated shifts on Remus’ part and he was spilling white and hot into the vacuum of the cylinder around his cock. The vibrations dulled to a stop, but the massager kept moving, each stroke sending sensations bolting through him and milking the last of his sperm from his spent body. His chest heaved against the table, testing the strength of the restraint holding him there. His face slipped on the leather surface thanks to a fine sheen of sweat that covered his pasty skin. The prostrate massager slowed to a stop in his stretched and used arse. The nurse moved behind him, extracting the massager and releasing the ball clips. Remus heard himself grunt as she released the vacuum around his cock and drew the cylinder from between his legs.

“Collect yourself and get dressed. You are required to report to room 305 within fifteen minutes,” the nurse said flatly before marching from the room, apparently not caring at all that Remus had just been fucked in the arse. The restraints around his back and ankles suddenly vanished, but he didn’t try to get up. Instead, he took several deep breaths, composing himself and calming his too sensitive body. His arse was sore and delicate to the touch, which he knew would make the rest of his exam a bit of a pain, well, in the arse. As his heart started to return to normal, he carefully pulled on his clothes before pushing open the exam room door to find room 305.