Packbell and the rigors of Chastity or:

The Chaste Packers story.

By MistressAli

A/N: Really STUPID fic idea I got in my head. Robotnik gets sick and tired of Packbell always screwing the prisoners and doing other kinky stuff, so he makes a chastity belt for his naughty droid, hoping that it will cure Packbell of his sex addiction.

Obviously, this was supposed to be more light-hearted. Hey…sometimes I get tired of writing angst. ;) But, I never finished it. Maybe someday...!

You really do know how to strut that stuff

You really do know how to act tough

Your body's just like a centerfold

A fantasy; anyone would want you to hold

Stop using sex as a weapon

Stop using sex as a weapon

You know you're already my obsession

Stop! Stop! Using sex as a weapon!

Love is more than a one-way reflection

Stop using sex as a weapon

With looks that could kill; a mind that's twisted

I don't know how to resist this

I tell myself 'look the other way'

When you want me to stay

I always do

You play with it shy like it's a toy

How much affection can you destroy?

You had her heart around your little finger

Sex Sex Sex Sex Sex Sex

Sex as a weapon.

- “Sex as a Weapon” – Pat Benatar

It was a warm muggy day in Robotropolis and Robotnik paced the throne room, mumbling and fretting to himself.

At first Snively thought his Uncle was complaining about the heat, but it became apparent that was not the case, unless Robotnik personified the heat as 'he'.

"He cannot be allowed to do this anymore." With that decisive statement, Robotnik came to a standstill, his eyes staring straight at Snively.

Snively made a large show of checking the monitors and clicking upon the keys. But Uncle made no snapping remarks and strangely, there was no anger on his face. So Snively swiveled the chair back and returned the stare.

"Is something wrong, sir?"

"Well..." Robotnik clasped a gloved hand to his chin. "There is, Snively. But I intend to take *care* of it."

The sliding double doors to the command center slid open. Robotnik whirled around. A black boot entered, then a blackclad leg and finally the whole figure, all decked out in black, with ebony hair and a smirk as dark as his attire.

Snively rolled his eyes. "Isn't it a bit hot to be wearing all that...?"

"Ah. Packbell." Robotnik greeted the android with his hands on his hips. Snively's eye flitted between the two, frowning from over in his chair.

"Yes, Doctor?" Still smirking, ruby eyes twinkling. The droid seemed in an upbeat mood today. He threw Snively a taunting look, which the small human returned with a thrust-out tongue.

"I think it's time," Robotnik put a hand on Packbell's shoulder, "We had a good ‘father to son’ talk."

Packbell raised an eyebrow. "Er...ok..."

Snively cackled and cooed as Robotnik led Packbell from the room with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Oooooh, Packers is in troooooouble!"

Packbell flipped him off before the doors closed.

*

Packbell paused on the threshold of one of Robotnik's personal labs.

"Come in, son." Robotnik indicated a small table with two chairs. A small machine with wires sat in the middle.

"Ok 'daddy'," the droid said mockingly, seating his rear in the chair and leaning back.

Robotnik fiddled with the machine and then took hold of one of the wires. It had a small cushioned pad attached to it, and he slid this onto Packbell's finger. The droid looked worried.

"Is this gonna hurt?"

"No. Now just sit there and relax." Robotnik turned a few knobs on the machine and then took a seat. The chair groaned under his weight. "I'm going to show you a series of pictures." 

"I really don't like tests."

"You will take it and like it!"

The droid mock-sniffled. "No need to yell, pops!" He sighed and leaned back again.

"Stop leaning and focus." The fat tyrant withdrew a stack of pictures from under the table. He held up the first picture. It was...of him.

Packbell stared at him. "Ok, I'm supposed to...what?"

"Just look at the damn picture." Robotnik grumbled as he checked a few output numbers on the machine. "Alright, there was no result on that one."

"Er..." the droid giggled. "This isn't like a loyalty test or something, eh? Because you know I'm really completely loyal and never would like...plot against you or anything."

Robotnik glared at him.

"Honestly!"

"You wound me terribly, son..." He sighed melodramatically and held up the next picture. It was of a drainpipe.

"Oooh." The droid leaned forward, his eyes riveted to the picture.

Robotnik took note of the output. It had jumped from a negative result to a 1 reaction.

"Interesting..." he muttered, and then stared at the picture himself, but found nothing infatuating about it. Oh well. He tossed it aside.

The next picture was of a hole in a SWATbot...one that had gotten on the wrong end of Robotnik's fist.

The droid leaned forward again.

2 reaction.

"Odd." Robotnik raised an eyebrow at his circuit-born son.

"What?" The droid sneered nastily, but then his eyes lit up at the next picture. It was of a sweet young Mobian prisoner, perhaps 10 in age.

The machine's output gauge jumped up to a 4. Robotnik stared astonished at it, then at Packbell.

"I honestly did not program you to be like *that*!"

He then showed the next pictures, each time disgustedly surprised at the machine's results. He thought maybe the thing was broken.

A dead body. 5.

An apple pie. 4.

A picture of Packbell's hand. 7 ("Hello, old friend," the droid cooed.)

A picture of a large knife. 6.

A nuclear explosion. 7.

And finally, Robotnik had to admit the last picture was rather scary.... His nephew screaming and covering himself with a towel after being caught in the shower. There was no way Packbell would react to that!

"Argh!" The droid was fidgeting in his chair by now and he growled at the last picture.

Robotnik gasped as the meter shot up to a 10.

"Quite frankly, I'm really...shocked at these results," the mad doctor said, pulling the wire off Packbell's finger. "It's quite sickening, actually."

"That's great but I hafta go to the...uh bathroom."

"I don't think so. You don't produce waste like that."

"Maybe not, but uh..." The droid was flustered. "I'm one of those weirdos who wash their hands twenty times a day, and I'm uh...late for my 2:00 washing...uh yeah..."

"Spare me," the tyrant sighed, stroking his mustache. "Aren't you curious as to what this machine measures?"

"Not really." The android was pouting, looking at the door.

"It..." the tyrant had to clear his throat, his already ruddy face blushing dark red. "Measures your level of arousal from various stimuli."

"Oh, is that all," the droid put his head in his hands, now treating the tyrant to his pouty lip and puppy dog gaze. "So, how did I do?"

"Horrible."

"Really?" The droid strained to look at the outputs. "I thought I did good! Especially that last picture..." He purred. "Can I see that one again?"

"NO!" Robotnik stood up. "You son, have a serious problem! You seemed to be aroused by every one of those images! It's ridiculous!" He held up the picture of the wrecked SWATbot. "What could possibly be...exciting...about this?!"

"Well..." The droid pointed to the damage inflicted. "It does have a hole in it..."

He grabbed another picture; the droid's hand. "And this?"

"Really pops..." A ruby eye closed in a lewd wink. "Do you hafta ask?"

"And..." Robotnik picked up the photo of poor Snively, standing there naked with only a hastily placed towel for cover. "I don't even want to know the attraction to my worthless nephew!"

Packbell snagged the picture and stared at it, his eyes practically glowing. "Oooh, Snivvy-poo," he crooned. "I've been wanting to fuc-"

"Enough!" bellowed Robotnik, snatching Snively's disgraceful photo away. "This simply must be stopped!"

"Aw, come on, you're overreacting." Packbell leaned back in his chair again, looking bored. "Just because I get a little horn-" Robotnik clamped his hand over his mouth.

"SHUT UP! I am putting a stop to this now. I've discovered from surveillance all the slacking off you do, son! And the things you do to the prisoners! Not to mention what you were doing in the laundry room with *my* personal towels! I won't be able to dry off again without thinking of it!"

He withdrew his hand, wiping it profusely on his red jumpsuit.

The droid looked apologetic. "Sorry, didn't know they were *your* towels..."

"NOT TO MENTION!" The droid jumped in his chair; Robotnik always did have that annoying habit of suddenly yelling. "I found THESE in your room!"

"HEY!" The droid stood up, knocking his chair over. "You can't go in my room!"

"Oh, I can, and I DID, you naughty boy!" With that, Robotnik withdrew a large box from...somewhere... and proceeded to dump it on the table.

A large pile of magazines came tumbling out, with such titles as "Best of the Mobian Breast" and "Furry Lust" along with "Overlanders Go DownUnder", a pile of underwear (some that looked suspiciously like little girls and others like Snively's) and a bunch of raunchy photos. Robotnik was only vaguely disappointed there was no smut of him in there.

'Because I am a sexy beast,' he thought indignantly, glaring at the large pile. "This is a perversion, Packbell, and I won't have it in my house...er...Egg."

The rest of the box contained cans of whipped cream, handcuffs, chains, and other...odd looking things. Robotnik couldn't really imagine what all this was used for.

The droid bent and picked a whip off the floor. He cracked it in the air with a grin. "I see you didn't find my stash of sex toys..." He trailed off when Robotnik grabbed the whip and glared daggers at him.

"I'm sorry I didn't! For all of this, son, is going to be incinerated!"

"NO!" The droid gasped and sprang upon the table, covering the stuff with his body. "You can't do that!! I can't LIIIIIIIVE WITHOUT IT!!"

"You'll have to adapt a new lifestyle then, I'm afraid..." Robotnik smiled grimly and withdrew from his cape a small pistol which he pressed against the droid's neck. He pressed the trigger. There was a rush of air and a hollow needle thrust itself deep in the false skin, injecting its contents into the droid's internal chemicals.

With a loud thud, the droid rolled off the table, unmoving.

Robotnik shook his head and nudged Packbell in the ribs. There was no response. He replaced the gun within his cape and called in a few SWATbots to dispose of the horrendous garbage.

"I want all of this burned." He growled. Then he turned to the lone bot that remained. "And you...you know what to do."

"Yes sir."

Robotnik snorted and swept out of the room with an oh-so-dramatic swirl of his cape.

The robot hauled Packbell onto its shoulder and clomped out of the room.

*

“Wow.” A techbot intoned as it threw the last of Packbell's garments onto the floor.

The other techbot took something shiny and metal from a cabinet. The SWAT who had brought Packbell into the techbot lab stood silently watching them.

If the techbot could laugh, it might have. “He will not be able to use that 'tool' now.”

The SWATbot might have smiled evilly, except it had no mouth.

*

The next morning came. The sun fought valiantly to break through the smog, but to no avail.

Sunlight or no sunlight, Packbell woke up the same time, 9:30 am. He stretched out on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

'Hmm. I could've sworn something odd happened yesterday.'

He looked over to his wall, where normally a picture of a naked woman was, and Lo! Busty Betsy was gone! He blinked, and hopped out of bed.

"Ah! I remember now. The doctor was throwing a shit fit yesterday!"

He snickered, well, apparently nothing much else had transpired. Robotnik probably had burned all his lovely porn. No matter, the android smirked. He had a backup emergency stash!

“Ha! So take that, 'daddy'!" He smiled evilly as he walked to his dresser and retrieved some pants and a shirt, black of course. Then to the full-length mirror he strolled.

He purred at his reflection. What a handsome creature. Yes, what a sexy bitch. Ooh yeah, what a fine piece of...then he noticed that his normal pair of (black) underwear were gone, replaced by a rather stupid-looking metal pair.

"Eh? What's this?"

He turned this way and that. He supposed, if they had been darker (perhaps black?) metal, they wouldn’t look so bad. Still, he was befuddled. How had they gotten onto his lovely body in the first place?