The Exam FMA Fan-Fic
The Exam.
NC-17 (Non-con, underage, MM)
2363
RoyxEd. Fullmetal Alchemist.
This really isn't a spoiler for anything other than Edward's becoming a State Alchemist.
It was one of the military’s dirty little secrets. Actually, like so many other aspects of military life, it wasn’t all that secret within the ranks. Only the outsiders had no earthly idea. Of course, outsiders didn’t understand a great many aspects of military life. Like being ordered to kill a pair of benevolent doctors for no apparent reason.
Lt. Col. Roy Mustang frowned deeply as he regarded the passing grades on the Alchemist Exam, leaning his jaw on his fist. “Is there something wrong, sir?” Lt. Hawkeye’s voice broke through Roy’s reverie.
“I never imagined that the younger one would pass it, too,” he murmured, and threw the test results on his desk.
“Is that a problem, sir?”
Roy made no reply; he merely sighed deeply. He knew that Edward’s sheer stubbornness and determination would steel him for what was to come, even though he was only 12 years old. He had already endured more than most grown men. Didn’t his automail prove that he could withstand even unbearable pain? However, not only was Alphonse’s psyche far too innocent for what was next, his mortal secret would inevitably be revealed. He had no body to abuse.
A smirk crossed Roy’s lips at the irony. Alphonse would have made the perfect prisoner of war, for what could the enemy do to him? And yet, that very invulnerability would keep his goal of becoming a State Alchemist forever out of reach. The military didn’t want anyone it couldn’t own.
There was nothing more to be done but to inform Alphonse that he could not continue. Understandably, the boy was outraged. Roy knew it was unfair, but a deeper part of him was grateful that Al, at least, would be spared what Ed would have to endure. In the end, it was Ed who convinced him. “You have to do what they say . . . even hurt people . . . for some good you don’t understand. It means you’re a dog of the State, with a leash around your neck.”
Though Roy’s expression remained impassive, he thought, You have no idea. . . . But you will.
Walking back to his office, hands clasped behind his back and eyes on the pavement before him, Roy’s mind drifted back to his own “Interview and Physical Exam.” If it had not been for his relationship with Maes Hughes, Roy would have cracked. All officers endured the process, but speaking of it - to anyone - was absolutely forbidden. Indeed, he had not even conversed of it with Maes, though their eyes met with understanding afterward.
The Fuhrer wanted, no, demanded absolute allegiance. The process made it explicitly clear that he was in charge, and that he owned you - lock, stock and barrel, down to the very last ammunition casing in the chamber of your soul. Therefore, every officer, both male and female, was required to endure it. It was geared to make a lasting impression. It certainly had made one on Roy.
He had been given a code to memorize. Then, he was stripped and blindfolded, his hands bound behind him. First, he was thoroughly beaten, with the reassurances that all he need do was to speak the code to make it stop. But then, he was sexually assaulted by every man on the committee, starting with Fuhrer King Bradley himself. Even worse than Bradley had been Brig. Gen. Basque Gran, who was not only particularly brutal, but also abnormally well-endowed.
Roy had been taunted while he was roughly dry-raped, but he made no sound other than the involuntary grunts that such activity produces. Thanks to Maes, he knew how to be . . . accommodating . . . in such a situation. Even so, by the time the last colonel had his turn, Roy had required a short stay in the infirmary before he could again sit before the committee on that three-legged chair and deliver to them the code he had memorized but never uttered.
Of course, this physical abuse didn’t end with the initial “examination.” His endurance was part of his meteoric rise up the ranks at such a young age. After he earned his title of Flame Alchemist, he was called upon to provide “proof” of his “loyalty” on numerous occasions with various commanding officers, mostly Bradley himself. Fortunately for Roy, Gran’s attention was focused mainly on Kimbley. Somehow, Roy felt the two were well-suited for each other.
When he became a part of the committee, Roy generally had the choice to participate in the “physical examinations” or not. He generally declined. The process was one of the many aspects he would change when he became Fuhrer. However, there were times he was expected to perform. Lt. Hawkeye, Lt. Havoc, Lt. Breda, and Warrant Officer Falman had been “examined” by him. Their devotion to him would seem to validate Bradley’s method. However, Roy knew that their devotion was because Roy had surreptitiously exercised restraint, not authority. After all, he felt the same way about Dr. Tim Marcoh, who actually used his alchemy to relieve a bit of Roy’s suffering at the time of his exam.
And now it would be Edward’s turn. A 12-year-old. Surely Bradley wouldn’t rape a 12-year-old, would he? As many times as Roy had witnessed the process, he still could not imagine Bradley sodomizing the diminutive Edward. After all, how many state secrets would Edward be responsible to know? Yet, Roy knew just how ruthless Fuhrer King Bradley could be. Indeed, there was very little he would venture to put past their absolute monarch, whose facade consisted of a kind smile and a fatherly voice.
The fateful day arrived, and Roy took his place as the lowest ranking officer on the committee, standing to the far right of Gran, Bradley, Gen. Hakuro, and a full colonel. As was expected, he remained silent while Fuhrer King Bradley conducted the questioning part of the process. Even Roy was impressed with Edward’s earnest determination; yet, the lieutenant colonel remained wary of what would happen next.
“You have been given a code, I believe,” Bradley spoke, making Roy’s shoulder muscles tense and his stomach suddenly knot up.
“Yes, sir,” the boy replied firmly.
“Are you now prepared to defend the secrecy of that code with your very life?” Roy suddenly felt his breathing go shallow as his heart began to race, though he maintained his stoic silence.
“Yes, sir,” Edward replied.
“Good. You may proceed.” Bradley sounded almost amused.
Roy’s eyes followed two soldiers who quickly came forward and roughly stripped Edward down to his bare flesh, automail glinting in the harsh lighting. Though Edward’s expression was defiant, to his credit, he said not a word. When one of the soldiers made to strike him, Edward’s left foot caught him squarely in the jaw, knocking him winding. Roy couldn’t help but smile. He knew Edward wouldn’t triumph, couldn’t possibly triumph. But at least he was going to give them a run for their money. They would pay dearly for this “examination.”
Edward took out a good dozen soldiers before he was sufficiently subdued to endure the officers' portion of the process. He was held there by no less than three soldiers, one on each side and another with his hand on the back of Edward’s neck, forcing him into position. It was already apparent to everyone there that any state secret Edward held would be far safer than with 90 percent of the military force. Anyone in his right mind would have given up by now. But then . . . the lesson of ownership would not have been learned.
“Lt. Col. Mustang,” Bradley called out, making Roy start involuntarily, though he quickly regained his stoic exterior.
“Yes, sir,” Roy answered.
“You will do the honors. Somehow, I don’t think it would be very becoming of my position to conduct the examination on a 12-year-old boy.”
“Yes, sir.” Suddenly, Roy’s throat felt abnormally tight, though he dutifully stepped forward and approached Edward, who was panting with his face to the floor. Roy had been afraid of this, but at the same time, he was grateful that he had been chosen for the task. Since Roy was the lowest ranking officer there, no one would want to “examine” any applicant after him. This meant that Edward only had to endure him and no one else. At the same time, once again, Roy was being called upon to do something utterly repugnant: he was being ordered to sodomize a 12-year-old boy. Roy’s stomach gave a lurch before he pushed that thought to the farthest recess of his mind.
Under that bright light, Roy unfastened his military uniform trousers and pushed them to his knees, stroking himself to ready himself for the “examination.” He swallowed hard, his expression completely blank as he took up his position behind Edward. Barely above a whisper, his lips not moving at all, Roy murmured, “Push me out.”
“What are you doing, you bastard?” Edward panted, straining against the soldiers who held him fast.
Loud enough for the room to hear, Roy replied, “I am convincing you to give me the code.” Still stroking himself, willing himself to obtain a healthy erection in spite of the loathsome task, he murmured again, “Push me out.” Edward made another jerking attempt to free himself as Roy set the head of his cock against the boy’s opening.
Barely breathing at all, not daring to close his eyes, Roy very discreetly snapped the fingers of the hand he was not using to guide his cock to its mark. With the barest flash, his cock was suddenly covered with beads of moisture, taken from the air by alchemy to provide the lubrication needed to make this even remotely bearable. Roy swallowed again and gritted his teeth behind tight lips. “Push me out,” he murmured again as he forced Ed to open to the invasion.
“Damn you to hell!” Edward gasped, jerking and struggling like mad to free himself. However, to Roy’s relief, Edward suddenly had caught on to what Roy had been trying to convey to him. He felt Edward’s tightness begin to slacken somewhat as he pressed forward. “You fucking bastard!” There were tears in Edward’s choked voice, but he understood what Roy was trying to do, what Roy was having to do to him. “I hate you!”
Roy said nothing in response until he gained his hilt. He paused then, and said aloud, “Give me the code.”
“Fuck you!” Edward cried out, heaving with bravely concealed sobs.
“Very well.” Roy’s calm, nonchalant voice belied the revolt that his insides were making. It was all he could do not to vomit on the spot as he began to pump Edward with as little trauma as he could possibly get away with and still satisfy the committee. Roy’s jaw was clenched, though his face remained impassive, watching Edward’s trembling back and concentrating on the scarred seam of his automail shoulder. He couldn’t think about what he was doing. He was performing his duty, nothing more and nothing less. Edward’s words to Alphonse replayed themselves in his mind. You have to do what they say . . . even hurt people . . . . It means you’re a dog of the State, with a leash around your neck.
Roy had to make a decent show of the “examination,” lest Bradley decide that he hadn’t put forth sufficient effort to obtain the code. If that occurred, not only would Bradley make sure that Roy be held accountable for it, but he would order one of the other officers to sodomize Edward, as well. That officer, in turn, would make Roy pay for being made to take his “sloppy seconds.” Keeping such thoughts in mind, Roy would occasionally ask, “Are you ready . . . to give me . . . the code?” to which Edward would make some profane, insulting reply between his loud, gasping sobs.
At last, Roy closed his eyes, summoning to himself the vision of Maes in their academy days. As he did so often in these “examinations,” he placed himself back into that day on the beach, right after he and Maes had been issued their orders. They had packed food and wine and had spent the day toasting their future between swimming, making love, and napping in the warm sun. Maes had positioned himself just like this, pressing himself back to Roy’s cock, wanting it and needing it as much as Roy had wanted and needed to give it. With a small noise in the back of his throat, Roy thrusted into his memory, his cock jerking and twitching as it gave up the last of his dreams.
When Roy opened his eyes again, Edward was panting and sobbing before him, still held fast by the three soldiers, his short braid plastered to his neck with sweat. The lieutenant colonel’s eyes swept up to the shadows from where he knew the others watched. Roy was winded, but he held his jaw clenched and his mouth closed, waiting. “Very good. That will do, Lt. Col. Mustang. As you were.”
Roy withdrew and quickly righted his uniform, straightening and turning smartly to resume his place in the shadows at the far right of the committee. Gran glanced up at him with a disgusted smirk, but no one else said a word or otherwise acknowledged the atrocity they had just witnessed. The soldiers also withdrew from Edward and tossed his clothing in front of him. Roy watched as Edward replaced his clothing with trembling hands, his back to the committee.
When Edward turned again to face them, his eyes shown not with tears, but with a hardness that Roy knew reflected only the boy’s determination to make right what he had done wrong. Not taking his eyes from where he knew Bradley to sit, Edward meticulously replaced his white gloves before drawing an arm through the sleeve of his cloak. With a bow, Edward said, “I have upheld the honor of the code to which I have been entrusted. I will become a State Alchemist. I don’t care what you do to me.”
Bradley’s tone resumed its fatherly warmth. “Very well, Mr. Elric. I think it’s safe to say that I look forward to seeing your performance at the practical exam.”
Um, I know not many of you are FMA enthusiasts, but those of you who are . . . can you tell me why in the anime of "The Alchemy Exam" Riza Hawkeye is listed as a "major" but everywhere else, she's referred to as a first lieutenant? Did she get demoted or something?
NC-17 (Non-con, underage, MM)
2363
RoyxEd. Fullmetal Alchemist.
This really isn't a spoiler for anything other than Edward's becoming a State Alchemist.
It was one of the military’s dirty little secrets. Actually, like so many other aspects of military life, it wasn’t all that secret within the ranks. Only the outsiders had no earthly idea. Of course, outsiders didn’t understand a great many aspects of military life. Like being ordered to kill a pair of benevolent doctors for no apparent reason.
Lt. Col. Roy Mustang frowned deeply as he regarded the passing grades on the Alchemist Exam, leaning his jaw on his fist. “Is there something wrong, sir?” Lt. Hawkeye’s voice broke through Roy’s reverie.
“I never imagined that the younger one would pass it, too,” he murmured, and threw the test results on his desk.
“Is that a problem, sir?”
Roy made no reply; he merely sighed deeply. He knew that Edward’s sheer stubbornness and determination would steel him for what was to come, even though he was only 12 years old. He had already endured more than most grown men. Didn’t his automail prove that he could withstand even unbearable pain? However, not only was Alphonse’s psyche far too innocent for what was next, his mortal secret would inevitably be revealed. He had no body to abuse.
A smirk crossed Roy’s lips at the irony. Alphonse would have made the perfect prisoner of war, for what could the enemy do to him? And yet, that very invulnerability would keep his goal of becoming a State Alchemist forever out of reach. The military didn’t want anyone it couldn’t own.
There was nothing more to be done but to inform Alphonse that he could not continue. Understandably, the boy was outraged. Roy knew it was unfair, but a deeper part of him was grateful that Al, at least, would be spared what Ed would have to endure. In the end, it was Ed who convinced him. “You have to do what they say . . . even hurt people . . . for some good you don’t understand. It means you’re a dog of the State, with a leash around your neck.”
Though Roy’s expression remained impassive, he thought, You have no idea. . . . But you will.
Walking back to his office, hands clasped behind his back and eyes on the pavement before him, Roy’s mind drifted back to his own “Interview and Physical Exam.” If it had not been for his relationship with Maes Hughes, Roy would have cracked. All officers endured the process, but speaking of it - to anyone - was absolutely forbidden. Indeed, he had not even conversed of it with Maes, though their eyes met with understanding afterward.
The Fuhrer wanted, no, demanded absolute allegiance. The process made it explicitly clear that he was in charge, and that he owned you - lock, stock and barrel, down to the very last ammunition casing in the chamber of your soul. Therefore, every officer, both male and female, was required to endure it. It was geared to make a lasting impression. It certainly had made one on Roy.
He had been given a code to memorize. Then, he was stripped and blindfolded, his hands bound behind him. First, he was thoroughly beaten, with the reassurances that all he need do was to speak the code to make it stop. But then, he was sexually assaulted by every man on the committee, starting with Fuhrer King Bradley himself. Even worse than Bradley had been Brig. Gen. Basque Gran, who was not only particularly brutal, but also abnormally well-endowed.
Roy had been taunted while he was roughly dry-raped, but he made no sound other than the involuntary grunts that such activity produces. Thanks to Maes, he knew how to be . . . accommodating . . . in such a situation. Even so, by the time the last colonel had his turn, Roy had required a short stay in the infirmary before he could again sit before the committee on that three-legged chair and deliver to them the code he had memorized but never uttered.
Of course, this physical abuse didn’t end with the initial “examination.” His endurance was part of his meteoric rise up the ranks at such a young age. After he earned his title of Flame Alchemist, he was called upon to provide “proof” of his “loyalty” on numerous occasions with various commanding officers, mostly Bradley himself. Fortunately for Roy, Gran’s attention was focused mainly on Kimbley. Somehow, Roy felt the two were well-suited for each other.
When he became a part of the committee, Roy generally had the choice to participate in the “physical examinations” or not. He generally declined. The process was one of the many aspects he would change when he became Fuhrer. However, there were times he was expected to perform. Lt. Hawkeye, Lt. Havoc, Lt. Breda, and Warrant Officer Falman had been “examined” by him. Their devotion to him would seem to validate Bradley’s method. However, Roy knew that their devotion was because Roy had surreptitiously exercised restraint, not authority. After all, he felt the same way about Dr. Tim Marcoh, who actually used his alchemy to relieve a bit of Roy’s suffering at the time of his exam.
And now it would be Edward’s turn. A 12-year-old. Surely Bradley wouldn’t rape a 12-year-old, would he? As many times as Roy had witnessed the process, he still could not imagine Bradley sodomizing the diminutive Edward. After all, how many state secrets would Edward be responsible to know? Yet, Roy knew just how ruthless Fuhrer King Bradley could be. Indeed, there was very little he would venture to put past their absolute monarch, whose facade consisted of a kind smile and a fatherly voice.
The fateful day arrived, and Roy took his place as the lowest ranking officer on the committee, standing to the far right of Gran, Bradley, Gen. Hakuro, and a full colonel. As was expected, he remained silent while Fuhrer King Bradley conducted the questioning part of the process. Even Roy was impressed with Edward’s earnest determination; yet, the lieutenant colonel remained wary of what would happen next.
“You have been given a code, I believe,” Bradley spoke, making Roy’s shoulder muscles tense and his stomach suddenly knot up.
“Yes, sir,” the boy replied firmly.
“Are you now prepared to defend the secrecy of that code with your very life?” Roy suddenly felt his breathing go shallow as his heart began to race, though he maintained his stoic silence.
“Yes, sir,” Edward replied.
“Good. You may proceed.” Bradley sounded almost amused.
Roy’s eyes followed two soldiers who quickly came forward and roughly stripped Edward down to his bare flesh, automail glinting in the harsh lighting. Though Edward’s expression was defiant, to his credit, he said not a word. When one of the soldiers made to strike him, Edward’s left foot caught him squarely in the jaw, knocking him winding. Roy couldn’t help but smile. He knew Edward wouldn’t triumph, couldn’t possibly triumph. But at least he was going to give them a run for their money. They would pay dearly for this “examination.”
Edward took out a good dozen soldiers before he was sufficiently subdued to endure the officers' portion of the process. He was held there by no less than three soldiers, one on each side and another with his hand on the back of Edward’s neck, forcing him into position. It was already apparent to everyone there that any state secret Edward held would be far safer than with 90 percent of the military force. Anyone in his right mind would have given up by now. But then . . . the lesson of ownership would not have been learned.
“Lt. Col. Mustang,” Bradley called out, making Roy start involuntarily, though he quickly regained his stoic exterior.
“Yes, sir,” Roy answered.
“You will do the honors. Somehow, I don’t think it would be very becoming of my position to conduct the examination on a 12-year-old boy.”
“Yes, sir.” Suddenly, Roy’s throat felt abnormally tight, though he dutifully stepped forward and approached Edward, who was panting with his face to the floor. Roy had been afraid of this, but at the same time, he was grateful that he had been chosen for the task. Since Roy was the lowest ranking officer there, no one would want to “examine” any applicant after him. This meant that Edward only had to endure him and no one else. At the same time, once again, Roy was being called upon to do something utterly repugnant: he was being ordered to sodomize a 12-year-old boy. Roy’s stomach gave a lurch before he pushed that thought to the farthest recess of his mind.
Under that bright light, Roy unfastened his military uniform trousers and pushed them to his knees, stroking himself to ready himself for the “examination.” He swallowed hard, his expression completely blank as he took up his position behind Edward. Barely above a whisper, his lips not moving at all, Roy murmured, “Push me out.”
“What are you doing, you bastard?” Edward panted, straining against the soldiers who held him fast.
Loud enough for the room to hear, Roy replied, “I am convincing you to give me the code.” Still stroking himself, willing himself to obtain a healthy erection in spite of the loathsome task, he murmured again, “Push me out.” Edward made another jerking attempt to free himself as Roy set the head of his cock against the boy’s opening.
Barely breathing at all, not daring to close his eyes, Roy very discreetly snapped the fingers of the hand he was not using to guide his cock to its mark. With the barest flash, his cock was suddenly covered with beads of moisture, taken from the air by alchemy to provide the lubrication needed to make this even remotely bearable. Roy swallowed again and gritted his teeth behind tight lips. “Push me out,” he murmured again as he forced Ed to open to the invasion.
“Damn you to hell!” Edward gasped, jerking and struggling like mad to free himself. However, to Roy’s relief, Edward suddenly had caught on to what Roy had been trying to convey to him. He felt Edward’s tightness begin to slacken somewhat as he pressed forward. “You fucking bastard!” There were tears in Edward’s choked voice, but he understood what Roy was trying to do, what Roy was having to do to him. “I hate you!”
Roy said nothing in response until he gained his hilt. He paused then, and said aloud, “Give me the code.”
“Fuck you!” Edward cried out, heaving with bravely concealed sobs.
“Very well.” Roy’s calm, nonchalant voice belied the revolt that his insides were making. It was all he could do not to vomit on the spot as he began to pump Edward with as little trauma as he could possibly get away with and still satisfy the committee. Roy’s jaw was clenched, though his face remained impassive, watching Edward’s trembling back and concentrating on the scarred seam of his automail shoulder. He couldn’t think about what he was doing. He was performing his duty, nothing more and nothing less. Edward’s words to Alphonse replayed themselves in his mind. You have to do what they say . . . even hurt people . . . . It means you’re a dog of the State, with a leash around your neck.
Roy had to make a decent show of the “examination,” lest Bradley decide that he hadn’t put forth sufficient effort to obtain the code. If that occurred, not only would Bradley make sure that Roy be held accountable for it, but he would order one of the other officers to sodomize Edward, as well. That officer, in turn, would make Roy pay for being made to take his “sloppy seconds.” Keeping such thoughts in mind, Roy would occasionally ask, “Are you ready . . . to give me . . . the code?” to which Edward would make some profane, insulting reply between his loud, gasping sobs.
At last, Roy closed his eyes, summoning to himself the vision of Maes in their academy days. As he did so often in these “examinations,” he placed himself back into that day on the beach, right after he and Maes had been issued their orders. They had packed food and wine and had spent the day toasting their future between swimming, making love, and napping in the warm sun. Maes had positioned himself just like this, pressing himself back to Roy’s cock, wanting it and needing it as much as Roy had wanted and needed to give it. With a small noise in the back of his throat, Roy thrusted into his memory, his cock jerking and twitching as it gave up the last of his dreams.
When Roy opened his eyes again, Edward was panting and sobbing before him, still held fast by the three soldiers, his short braid plastered to his neck with sweat. The lieutenant colonel’s eyes swept up to the shadows from where he knew the others watched. Roy was winded, but he held his jaw clenched and his mouth closed, waiting. “Very good. That will do, Lt. Col. Mustang. As you were.”
Roy withdrew and quickly righted his uniform, straightening and turning smartly to resume his place in the shadows at the far right of the committee. Gran glanced up at him with a disgusted smirk, but no one else said a word or otherwise acknowledged the atrocity they had just witnessed. The soldiers also withdrew from Edward and tossed his clothing in front of him. Roy watched as Edward replaced his clothing with trembling hands, his back to the committee.
When Edward turned again to face them, his eyes shown not with tears, but with a hardness that Roy knew reflected only the boy’s determination to make right what he had done wrong. Not taking his eyes from where he knew Bradley to sit, Edward meticulously replaced his white gloves before drawing an arm through the sleeve of his cloak. With a bow, Edward said, “I have upheld the honor of the code to which I have been entrusted. I will become a State Alchemist. I don’t care what you do to me.”
Bradley’s tone resumed its fatherly warmth. “Very well, Mr. Elric. I think it’s safe to say that I look forward to seeing your performance at the practical exam.”
Um, I know not many of you are FMA enthusiasts, but those of you who are . . . can you tell me why in the anime of "The Alchemy Exam" Riza Hawkeye is listed as a "major" but everywhere else, she's referred to as a first lieutenant? Did she get demoted or something?