#cw pet whumpee

[kabie-whump]

Hi! I started following you recently and I LOVE your writing!!! May I make a request? I'd love to see your take on a yandere vampire whumper keeping a darling human whumpee in captivity. Maybe they see Whumpee as both a bloodbag and a companion/pet?

Only if you want to!!

Thanks so much! I'm sorry this took so long but I finally found time to come back to this! All hail spring break!

Content: hypnosis, ex-vampire hunter whumpee, pet/bloodbag whumpee, intimate whumper, vampire whumper, memory loss, gaslighting

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"Is there someone outside?"

Surprised, Whumper glances down at Whumpee, who blinks groggily as they wake. They usually stay out for longer after Whumper feeds on them. Maybe the noise woke them.

Whumper runs their fingers through Whumpee's hair. "Yes, darling. Someone's trying to take you away from me again. But don't worry - my hounds are taking care of it."

There's a distant, muffled scream. Whumpee flinches, their eyes going wide as they sit up. They'd left a dark patch of drool in the fabric of Whumper's pants, but Whumper doesn't mind at all.

"Wait... I know that voice. Who's out there?"

Whumper acts quickly, grabbing Whumpee's face and turning them to force eye contact. They can't let their most treasured companion remember that those humans used to be their friends; that Whumpee used to be a vampire hunter along with them.

"No one important," Whumper insists, pouring a sprinkle of magic into their words. "They're bad people. They want to take you away and hurt you."

It's always so cute to watch the effects of the hypnosis weigh Whumpee down, relaxing their anxious mind. Their pupils dilate until the color of Whumpee's eyes shows in only barely visible rings. Their breathing slows down. Their shoulders slump.

"'Kay," Whumpee whispers. "Sorry. I... got confused."

Whumper presses a kiss to their forehead. "It's alright, pet. I'll take care of everything. No need to worry. No need to even think."

Whumpee nods sleepily, allowing Whumper to pick up their wrist and examine the fresh bite mark. It's already scabbing over nicely. Whumper doesn't like biting their wrists, but their neck is so covered in marks now that they'll have to wait for some of those bites to heal before they can make more.

"Does it hurt?" Whumper asks as they kiss right next to the wound.

Whumpee shrugs, then nods. "A little," they admit. "I'm dizzy."

"Aw, I'm so sorry. You know I hate having to hurt you, don't you?"

"You'll die otherwise, right?" Whumpee asks hopefully. "You need me?"

"Yes. I need you to keep me alive, and you need me to keep you calm. You're much better off as my companion than you were before."

Whumpee's brow creases. "What was I before? I don't remember."

Whumper hums, pulling Whumpee into a gentle hug. "No one at all, dearest." Definitely not one of the city's most renouned vampire hunters, they think with a smirk. "No one at all."

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#whump #whump community #whump tropes #whump writing #whumpblr #whump scenario #whump ideas #whumpee #vampire whump #intimate whumper #hypnosis whump #brainwashing #cw blood #pet whumpee #bloodbag whumpee #vampire whumper #whump ask

[redd956]

Mini Whump Prompt 118

Vampiric Caretaker has had enough of their fellow vampire's treatments of whumpee, and went out of their way to rescue them. Now to get them properly recovered and sent back to safely human territories.

They thought it would be simple. Sure! Whumpee was quite the odd human, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary... until they walked in on whumpee one day and the human proceeded to pull on the collar of their shirt until the neck and collarbone were fully exposed.

"What are you doing?", Caretaker couldn't contain their confusion.

"Offering you to feed.", They explained so nonchalantly, growing nervous at Caretaker's silence, "You've been so good to me, and I never see you feed. I thought- I thought that you might want- as a thanks of course."

"What the fu-"

#nonhuman caretaker #vampire whump #whump prompt #whump prompts #whump #whump ideas #whumpee #caretaker #vampire caretaker #vampiric caretaker #nonhuman whumper #vampire whumper #vampiric whumper #conditioned whumpee #conditioning whump #cw pet whump #pet whump

[cepheusgalaxy]

We all love the "whumpee thinks caretaker is their new master" trope, right? Let's go a little further

Whumpee is whumper's pet. We know this

Whumper also has this friend, Whumper 2

Whumper really wants to impress their friend, or whatever, so they give whumpee to whumper 2

Whumpee is prepared beforehand. Whumper dress them up; They tell them to obey whumper 2. Tell them that they'll be their new master.

While that, Caretaker and Team find this out. Whumpee will be transported from Whumper's to Whumper 2's house

It's the perfect chance for rescuing them.

Ok, now, for the aesthetic, maybe whumpee is in a truck. No windows. No sounds. Whumpee is locked inside during the way, they're only allowed to move or get out once they reach their destiny

The team works fast

They capture the truck and manage to drive it to their base

While that, whumpee is bracing themselves for the terror they know whumper 2 will be.

Imagine the scene when the team unlock whumpee on the truck, and they are obedient, terrifird, they think Caretaker is whumper 2

They do not manage to think they're finally free

#whump #whump prompt #whump scenario #whumpee #whumper #multiple whumpers #caretaker #pet whumpee #whumpee thinks caretaker is their new master and we love it #cw deshumanization #cw pet whump #deshumanization #cw slavery #i guess #cw human trafficking #i just noticed i should have put content warninf on the post XD #if i missed anything please let me know

[hold-on-a-little-longer-whump]

Okay okay okay so get this - I'm usually not much of a fan of whumpers, especially if it involves dehumanization, pet whump, humiliation, etc., but my brain supplied me with this little whump concept and I needed to share it with people who would enjoy such a thing.

So, the Whumpee has finally done it. They've escaped. Maybe it was an opportunistic escape or maybe it was carefully planned for weeks or even months. They're running. Perhaps they look horrible, perhaps they managed to scrounge clothes fit for escaping, or perhaps the Whumper liked to dress them in fine things.

They're running and - oh! A person!! A normal person! The Whumpee hurries over to them, no doubt startling the man who was walking his dog or carrying groceries into his house. They stumble over their words or perhaps recite a practiced line that they had drilled into themselves, but the man listens. His forehead wrinkles with concern and his jaw goes taut and soon he's nodding and ushering the near-panicked Whumpee inside his home because "Alright, alright. Everything's going to be fine. Let me make a call, okay?"

And he sits the Whumpee down in a nice, normal living room and gives them a nice, normal blanket before stepping away to do as he had promised. Minutes pass, and the Whumpee can't relax. After their time in captivity, they doubted that they would ever be able to relax again. The man's dog keeps them company, laying on the Whumpee's feet until they hear the front door open.

And - no. The Whumpee recognized that voice. They barely manage to stand before the man enters the living room, leading the Whumper inside and laughing at a shared joke. The Whumper is smiling as they approach, but their eyes are dangerous. The Whumpee instinctively freezes, visibly paling as the betrayal sinks in.

The Whumper takes the Whumpee by the arm and tows them to their feet. "I really am so sorry to inconvenience you. I'm still training them."

"Oh, don't I know that feeling." The man laughs, and that's when the Whumpee spots them. Another person had entered the room, obediently standing next to the man as he pulled them into a side-hug. Silent. Eyes empty. Another one, like the Whumpee.

"I'll see you for dinner on Thursday, same time?"

Oh no.

"Of course! Bring your friend, if you want. And Diane is coming, too."

This was much, much bigger than the Whumpee had realized.

#whump #whump scenario #whump prompt #whump writing #whumpee #whumper #tw: captivity #cw: captivity #dehumanization #pet whump #tw: humiliation #cw: humiliation #captive whumpee #community of whumpers #that sounds terrifying #y'know what would be badass too? #if one of the Whumpee's teammates has to go undercover as one of the whumpers #and they see the Whumpee #but they have to play it cool or risk blowing their cover #meanwhile the Whumpee is having a crisis #are they about to be rescued? #or was their teammate in on it all along? #bonus: the undercover teammate has to bring along a whumpee of their own to really sell the part #escape whump

[unforgivenn]

SHACKLED BY ROYALTY

#1 :THE BEAST'S PET

CW: abduction, captivity, slight whump, coercion, power dynamics, pet whump, drugging, defiant whumpee, swearing, dominant whumper, slavery

Noah woke to the jolt of the wagon hitting a rut in the road. Darkness surrounded him and he could only think he was blindfolded. The cloying scent of sweat and fear clinging to the air like a suffocating shroud. Disorient and groggy, he blinked away the remnants of his sleep, his senses gradually coming alive to the harsh reality. He suddenly sat up frantically shaking his head as if the tightened blindfold would somehow magically fall off.

"H-Hey!! Let me out of here!!" His body ached from the unforgiving jostle of the wagon, every bone protesting against the place he was in right now. Chains rattled with each bone-jarring bump in the road, a chilling reminder of the shackles that bound his wrists and ankles, tethering him to a fate he dared not contemplate.

"Where are you taking me?!!" Noah's screams only grew louder when no response was given. His heart beating so fast as if it would jump out of his chest. "ANSWER ME! SOMEONE!" He quietened when he heard a "tch" near him.

A deep, South American accent cut through the darkness like a blade, sending a shiver down Noah's spine. "Didn't expect him to wake up this early. And he's awfully loud," the voice mused, its casual cruelty sending a chill through the air.

Noah's heart pounded in his chest as he felt a rough hand grab his arm, the sting of a needle piercing his skin sending shockwaves of numbness coursing through his veins. Just then he heard whines around him. There were people. More people like him. Gradually, the numbness from the injection site started to spread.

Noah tried his best to speak something. Something that could catch the attention of other people there. He felt confused.

Who were these people? And where the hell were they taking him?

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Abruptly, the cart lurched to a halt, the sudden cessation of movement sending Noah sprawling against the unforgiving floor. He woke with a small cry of pain, his heart hammering in his chest as he listened, breath held in fearful anticipation.

Footsteps approached, heavy and purposeful, accompanied by the jingle of chains and the murmured voices of unseen captors. Noah's pulse quickened, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach like icy tendrils of dread.

Two muscular arms went under each of Noah's underarms holding him up.

"Where are you taking me?!" he cried out, his voice raw with fear, but his captors remained silent, their faces hidden in the shadows.

One of the guys patted Noah's head leaving him more enraged.

All of a sudden, he was thrown to the ground before he was being manhandled to be in a kneeling position with multiple chains on his neck, ankles and wrists holding him in place allowing his captors to have full control over him.

As the blindfold was ripped away, Noah blinked against the harsh light, his eyes adjusting to the sight of his surroundings. It seemed like some sort of a court room? His mind was still clouded up from the drug that was given to him.

"W-What the fu-" A harsh slap shut him up.

"Shush. The young prince will be here any second" Prince? What the fuck was happening?? He wanted to question more but knew better than that. It felt like a scene right out of Hollywood.

Suddenly, he saw the men around him which he thought were most probably the guards bowed down to a young man. Noah raised his head up as to see who it was before a rough hand in his hair forced his head back down only allowing him to see the man's piercing green eyes. The man whom they called the "young prince" stayed quiet. The tension in the room visibly increased before a deep voice spoke.

"Leave us." The guards were quick to retreat from their position and going out of the court room. Noah was about to get up from his kneeling position before flinching at the harsh voice. "Stay still slave!"

"Slave?!" Noah's voice wavered with disbelief, but the harsh slap that followed left him reeling, his cheek stinging with the sting of humiliation. He heard the man tutting.

"Oh dear" He sighed. "It's going to take a lot of time to break that swearing and defiance from you.. But.."

The man grinned, the smile no other than a vicious beast's. He leaned closer, his teeth barely just grazing the other's ears before he whispered. "Oh how I'll enjoy seeing you squirm and beg me to spare you" Noah's body practically froze, terror filling his eyes.

Desperation clawed at Noah's chest as he dared to question his captor's authority. "W-Who are you...?"

But the prince's response sent a chill through his bones—a predatory grin twisting his lips as he whispered promises of torment and submission.

"I'm Andrey. Son of Viktor Kozlov," the prince declared, his name a whispered curse that echoed in Noah's ears. "You will address me as 'sir'."

Noah's blood ran cold as the weight of his situation settled upon him. This was no mere kidnapping—it was a descent into a nightmare from which there would be no waking.

As the reality of his situation sank in, Noah's world spun on its axis, his mind racing with unanswered questions and unspoken fears. With each passing moment, the weight of his captivity grew heavier, a suffocating shadow looming over him, threatening to consume him whole.

Noah only knew this was going to be one hellish of a ride. And only god knew when it was going to end.

#the beast's pet #whump story #whumblr #whump #whump community #whumpblr #whump scenario #my writing #whumper #pet whump #pet whumpee #slavery #slave whumpee #writing scenario #writeblr #writing community #oc noah #oc andrey #my ocs #new story idea #tumblr writers #original work #my whump writing #whump writing #whump tropes #defiant whumpee #cw cursing #cw slavery #cw pet whump #cw drugged

[whumpsoda]

Spill - Nevan & Darius

WOHEO Masterlist

I procrastinated on finishing this one for so long but I’m finally posting it :) now to work on even earlier captivity stuff

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @iys-cloud

cw: conditioned/brainwashed whumpee, gore/blood, vampire whumper

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Nevan gasped sharply, eyes wide and body trembling. Shards of slick, edged glass littered the previously pristine floor in a giant trickling pool of elegant wine. His throat caved in, shriveled up and dry, as his fingers twitched mercilessly. The thrall’s vision trailed over each cracking fragment, leading all the way to a pair of drenched boots in front of him. 

As his gaze ever so slightly rose, the slender body of his still master came into view. His breath hitched as he stopped at Darius’ abdomen, a wide splatter of the dark beverage already seeping into and taking hold of the fabric of his sweater.

His new sweater.

His white sweater.

The first time his master had granted him the privilege of doing such a task as pouring his master’s luxurious wine, such a simple task at that, and he’d instantly fucked it up.

Nevan’s knees buckled weakly, almost stumbling into the deadly array of razor sharp slivers. “I-!” He spat, staggering a step closer. He couldn’t see his master’s face, but the fierce grip of his fist was enough.

“I- I, I, I didn’t-!” He cried, thoughts moving so fast the pleas he so desperately needed to say were split apart like a puzzle. Nevan tripped over his heavy feet, hopelessly teetering around the shatters. Almost falling into his master, he stopped himself just before he could commit another grave mistake.

He clutched Darius’ clothing in both shaking hands, taking in the effects of his crime. Nevan frantically dove his head into the rich, impossibly expensive fabric, tongue outstretched and exposed.

Vigorously he ran the red piece of flesh over the ridges of sewed cotton, already stained a vibrant magenta. Fuzz and twine stuck to the moisture as his tongue dragged over, in a futile attempt to suck out the pigment. “‘M so- sorry-! So- so sorry!” 

Nevan released the item with a swift but firm slap to the cheek, hungrily burning his supple skin. Spit flew from his open mouth at the contact, and an already forming tear slipped out from his eye. 

“Down.” Darius commanded, voice graveled and coated in disgusted displeasure.

His body moving beyond his own accord, Nevan’s knees dropped to the wood below his master’s. With his head bowed, he silently held back a wail when numerous bits of the bottle cut through his skin, digging and burrowing their way into his flesh. 

“So- sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry! So, so, sorry!” He exclaimed, grabbing eagerly at whatever shards lay in his reach, disregarding the sting of more breaks tearing into him. Nevan searched until his hands were full, and he was howling in a mixture of horror and pain.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!” he rambled, streams of fat tears dampening his cheeks, only trailing off in panic when Darius’ hand neared his head.

Nevan shrieked as the vampire’s fingers drove into his scalp, seizing a hearty fistful of the human’s hair. Nevan’s head was aggressively wrenched back, agony pricking at each little divot in his head where the hairs sprouted. “Sorry, sorry, sorry-!” 

“Shut up.” Darius snarled, baring his teeth as he pierced into the eyes of the pleading man below him. Nevan whimpered, snot dribbling over his quivering lip as he clasped his hands together as means of begging, glass deeping their spot inside of him.

“You know, Nevan,” Darius sickly huffed a bitter laugh. He began a slow descent to a crouch, digging his face into his thrall’s. “I got you to make my life easier.” He sneered, twisting Nevan’s hair between a furious grip and yanking to elicit another yelp.

“And somehow, after all the effort I’ve put in to getting you to so much as call me Master, you can’t manage a task as easy as pouring me a drink?” 

Nevan wanted to scream, to beg, to plead until his voice ran raw. How could he be so stupid all the time? He was just a brainless, good for nothing dog like his master told him. 

Darius released his rigid hold on the bundle of strained hair, swiftly gripping his thrall’s face between his fingers before Nevan could catch a second to recover. With his free hand he clutched the man’s wrist, squeezing it tightly with all of his amplified vampiric strength and tearing it from Nevan’s clasp.

Nevan watched in unwavering focus as his master lifted his tattered hand to his widening mouth, dragging his clammy red tongue over each ragged cut, scratching himself in the process. 

Nevan’s hand jerked with each tickled sensation, shivers of pleasure and fear running all the way to his spine. Darius’ grip was still hard, holding the direct intent to hurt, but with each tender lick his eyelashes fluttered against his will. 

Smears of lavish gore muddled the vampire’s tongue and lips, and Nevan was yanked back into lucidity as Darius extended his mouth, giving the other man a full display of his bared fangs. 

Nevan’s heart plunged to his tensing stomach as the realization of his master’s moves captured him, attempting a single muffled shout.

Thin bones popped and cracked as Darius’ teeth and fangs brutally sunk into his thrall’s palm with the force of a feral animal, grinding the rows and sticking them deeper. 

Nevan thrashed and wriggled to his best ability, shrill screams of terror and torture swaddled by the purse of his lips. His master’s overwhelming strength was far too great, holding Nevan in place with violent intent. 

Hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt-

Darius’ sets of razor like fangs were nearly touching, ripping gaping holes in a mess of violence of which Nevan couldn’t stomach. His head spun with sickness, mind overwhelmed with the sight of sickening red, the threat of retching inching closer to reality.

At the last possible moment, seconds before tearing completely through the twitching meat, Darius relaxed his jaw. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Nevan convulsed in anguish, thick and rich bite marks protruding into his ripped and bloodied skin.

Licking his meal stained lips, Darius pecked the tip of his finger, leaving a stain of jarring red with a grin. “Look at me.” He quietly sung, his honeydew voice pulling Nevan from debilitating shock. “Focus on master. You can at least do that for me, can’t you?” He softly requested, as if he didn’t almost mangle his thrall seconds before. 

Each of Nevan’s breaths were shaky and panicked, his slender chest heaving and his throat wheezing. Darius let go of his cheeks, instead slipping his hand to gently cradle his thrall’s lolling head. 

“Fuh, f- focus, focus, master-” Even melting into a sweaty mess of aching misery, Nevan wanted nothing more than to please his beloved master.

“Hush, listen.” The vampire shushed, pressing a thumb to Nevan’s lips. “Let Master fill your empty little head with my voice.” Darius lifted a finger, leaving a smear of the thrall’s own insides as he placed a stray piece of his thrall’s hair back in its rightful place.

“You want to be good, right?” He questioned, allowing Nevan the slightest bit of movement to eagerly nod. “You want to be better.” He stated, easing his grip on the man’s mouth.

“You’ll surely have to be if I ever want to socialize again. I’ll look like an idiot if I try showing off a faulty thrall.”

Nevan nodded again, slower this time, still desperate to agree. “Yes, better… good…” His voice fuzzed as he spoke, eyes unfocusing. The heavenly agreement almost distracted him from the aching throb of his hand.

“You will be better. Remember what I told you?” Darius asked, studying his thrall with hungry eyes.

“Ye- yes… sir.”

“Then say it.”

Nevan swallowed back a whimper as he began reciting what the vampire had painted into him. “Oh- obedient…mmm… quiet… sss… still… do… docillle…” Each word more slurred than the last, his brain was melting under the weight of the blissful expectations his master had stained upon him. “Betterrr…”

Darius laughed a breathy, charming chuckle, amused by his thrall’s unwavering submission, and Nevan simply supplied a hazy smile. The vampire wiped a bead of salty sweat from his servants moist upper lip.

“Now,” Nevan gave the slightest bit more awareness, eager to follow along. “You, my pet, are going to go take good care of your hand, and I’m going to change.” Darius instructed, forcing Nevan to focus his cotton candy filled mind on only his words.

“You will take my dirtied items and throw them in the laundry, and come back to clean up this mess.” The human nodded along drowsily. “Then, and only then, will I consider calling a doctor for your injury.”

“Yes… sir.”

“Good boy.” Darius praised with a bitter and smug grin, showing off his pink coated mouth as a pool of pleasure swished inside Nevan’s chest.

His master was so kind, helping him better himself. Nevan simply couldn’t let him down, could he?

#we only have each other #Darius oc #Nevan oc #whump #whumpblr #servant whumpee #servant whump #pet whump #whump writing #My writing #vampire whump #vampire #vampire whumper #non human whumper #cw: gore #cw blood

[themonstrousmenagerie]

✧.*✧.*✧.*✧The Sea Show part 1✧.*✧.*✧.*✧

The last months were turning into a blur. Kaiyo spent most of them rounding his tank, trying not to hit the walls when his muscles begged for a bigger usage, for bursts of speed in the cold waters of the sea. But there was no ocean. No cold water. Only the Monster and the small, small tank and the collar to make sure he wouldn’t jump out.

He couldn’t see anything beyond the glass, a thick material draped over his prison to hide him from the eyes of humans waiting for entertainment. 

A few months ago it would have bothered him, he would scream, bite, try to escape. But there was no point anymore. Monster wanted him to jump, he would do it to finally fill his belly. He wouldn’t get hurt if he let the humans pet him. He would survive if he listened to them. And that was the last thing he had left.

Everyone in the circus knows those steps. The clicking of the heels on the wooden floor sent shivers down his spine, and couldn’t stop the flinch when the Monster unceremoniously ripped the tank’s cover off, the stage’s lights blinding him for a second.

“Hey big boy,” Their smile is too sharp even for a deep sea monster, while their golden eye stays cold “Looks like the Patrons would like to see you first.”

“Ready to begin the show?”

✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*

The cacophony of sounds around the arena made Kaiyo want to hide, from the smells, the shouts, from all of the shows, the training, from the Monster. All he could do now was to listen to them and get back to mindless rounds in his tank. All slowly exists as the Circus ate away his soul and hopes once his body expires, it would find its way back home.

All the months of training made him seize in place when the Monster rings their bell. One short sound, ‘swim up’. Kaiyo looked up, the trainer was standing just over the tank, looking down at him with this hungry, sadistic eye and a broad smile plastered on their face. Remembering the chain that used to haul him up, the mer eagerly listens to the command, touching the Monster’s outstretched hand with his nose. He can hear a quiet click and despises how it makes him feel happiness and relief. It means ‘good job’, he won’t be hurt now. 

“My dear Kaiyo comes from the far east sea, where he would come dangerously close to the shore and take the fishermen’s catch. While the residents wanted him killed, I have decided to save him, and in gratitude, he works here.” The mer can do nothing but grinds his teeth and let the Monster tell the fake story. His family was in the waters first. And then the humans invaded their territory, scaring away the shoals, forcing him to get closer and closer to the shore for food. And they caught him. He couldn’t even say a proper goodbye, the net hauling him from the sea and onto the ship’s deck in a few seconds. And the months on the road, when the Monster beat him into obedience, making him seek a fucking clicking sound and fear a head pat. He hated it, hated them, HATED THE WHOLE CIR-

Two short bells, ‘roll over’. His body thoughtlessly moved, showing his unprotected belly. He did not wince when the heels of their boots stabbed into his skin when the trainer walked on him, talking to the crowd about what he would do. If he focused, he could imagine his home, the sea full of life, cold water, his family grooming his scales, and the sun warming his body on the rocks. He wasn’t in the claustrophobic tank, the Monster using their power over him to reduce him to a simple show animal, and the fact that he let them do it. There was no going back, and all he could do was to reduce his pain before he died. He would not admit that each day spent there the thought was getting more and more appealing. A quiet whimper left his lips when the show master finally stepped off from him and he could once again immerse his whole body in the water. 

“Now, I ask you, Gentlemen, Ladies, and other Dear Guests, should our boy show what his powerful tail can do, or are you more interested in his hunting skills? I’m sure he would love to show you both of the activities”.

taglist:

Tag list: @whumpsday @firapolemos05 @sodascribbles @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @@dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

#whump #whump art #inhuman whump #inhuman whumpee #monster whump #pet whump #the monstrous menagerie #mermaid whump #cw sui ideation

[astrowhump]

Junior #4

flash back- a gloomy morning

TW: mentions of abuse, broken bones, blood, implied murder, stockholm syndrome, angst

[previous chapter]

“…are you okay?”

One harsh glance is enough to make Junior stammer.

“s-s-s-sorry m-m-as-ster-r…” his head droops down to avoid the angry gaze.

Alexander is in a gloomy mood today; he spent a good few minutes just staring out the kitchen window with an empty expression. Junior wrestled with himself for a while before he decided to speak up. It’s very unusual for Master to be grumpy so early in the day; he knows Alex is an early bird, religiously bound to his hour-long morning rituals. No, something special must be going on today.

Alexander is in no mood to be disturbed by the pesky pet; he considers gagging and locking him in the basement. But then he’d be bored out of his mind all day, he isn’t in the mood for that either. He weighs up his options. Finally, with an intentionally long sigh, he decides to open up. Afterall, why shouldn’t he? This boy will be dead and dumped in a landfill eventually.

“It’s my father’s death anniverssary today.”

Junior didn’t expect a soft tone out of that miffed face.

“Oh! I’m s-sorry m-master.” He gathers all his courage to put a reassuring hand on his master’s elbow. His right hand never lost the tremor even after his broken wrist healed.

Alex bursts into an unlooked-for fit of laughter, loud and terrifying. Junior immediately withdraws his hand, but his master doesn’t even notice, howling with laughter until he’s out of breath.

“Sorry? Oh no, little pet. Today is a jolly jolly day. It’s the anniverssary of the day I got rid of that good-for-nothing piece of garbage.”

He turns to face his boy and Junior’s eyes go wide. His master’s face has turned a bright shade of pink with how hard he’s smiling, like a child excited for a trip to Disneyland. It’s never good when Alex is excited.

“I think we should celebrate.”

Junior has a good guess what ‘celebrating’ translates into in his dictionary. He takes a step backwards, not really hoping to get away, but to delay the inevitable ‘celebration’ for as long as he can.

“You know he was the first person I ever took the life of. Well-deserved I’d say…”

Alex’s predator spirit is back, he backs the boy out of the kitchen step-by-step, into the living room.

“It was a beautiful sunny morning. I woke up to the sound of my mother screaming…that poor woman.” Something similar to sorrow takes over Alexander’s expression for an instant and disappears in the blink of an eye.

He keeps his eyes glued to Junior’s dilated pupils as he follows him, dragging out each step, fully certain that his boy has nowhere else to run to.

“I walked in on him beating my mother to shit right there in the living room, under our family photo…You could say my father wasn’t really a morning person.”

He pauses for a second, trying to recall everything in vivid detail.

“Do you know what I did, Junior?”

Junior only shakes his head no; internally scolding himself for asking, regretting every single choice he made today.

“Do you?” Alex shouts. His raspy voice, his creepy smile, how he slowly crouchs like a beast ready to hunt, and that hair-raising glint in his eyes; they all come together to force a stream of tears down his boy’s face.

“…n-n-no m-m-master…” he’s nearing the sofa, a dead end; he doesn’t want to know what happens when he runs out of room to get away.

“I grabbed the telephone…” he says as he reaches for the antique phone sitting uselessly on the coffee table. The back of junior’s knee hits the sofa.

The chase is over, here comes the pain.

“And I slammed it right into his disgusting head.” He swings the phone at the boy’s face and it lands right below his eye. Junior lets out a blood-curdling scream as he crashes to the ground.

“And I kept striking blow…” the phone hits the untouched side of Junior’s face and he feels his jaw crashing under the force.

“…after…” another hit to his broken cheekbone.

“…blow…” Junior hardly comprehends anymore; his vision starts going black, but not quite enough to stop the feeling of pain, just enough to make his eyes burn and his ears ring each time the handset bashes him in the face.

“…until his obnoxious fucking brain was all over the floor,” He says that with a prideful smile as he lands his final blow on the almost-unconscious bloodied mess on the floor. Junior yelps, not quite present enough to do much more, fractured skull sending wave after wave of pain through his nerves. He keeps his eyes shut, begs his brain to shut down and let go of this agonizing consciousness; but the ache keeps tapping on his window the second he starts drifting off, bringing him back to the present moment.

Alex’s smile slowly fades away as flashes from the past make him feel nostalgic. He places the blood-stained landline phone back in its place and collapses on the sofa right above where Junior lies sobbing.

The birds chirping ouside and the sunlight luminating the room is a delight to the captor and headache-inducing to his prisoner. It’s a beautiful day and blood is in the air, exactly as it was years ago.

“This just might be the best anniverssary I’ve spent so far. Stop ruining it with your annoying weeping.”

Junior doesn’t have an ounce of force in him to respond; he just lowers the volume of the whimpers to avoid getting on his master’s nerves.

“Come on now, Junior. It’s not that bad. Go clean yourself up.” He nudges at his side with his foot.

The boy tries, he puts all his energy into it but his brain is just too weak to order his limbs to move. He wants to sleep so bad. He rolls to his side and coughs out some of the blood that’s started pooling inside his mouth.

“Ah goddammit!” He stands and lifts the drowsy boy up by his arms, putting a firm hand behind his back to keep him still. Even though he’s obviously irritated, his touch is gentle.

“Man up, Junior.” It’s Alexander speaking, but those aren’t his words. Deep down, he’s just a cheap impersonation of his father.

He helps the boy toddle back to the kitchen and wash his face in the sink. The cool water helps soothe the constant burning in his jaw.

Junior’s head is still spinning. His fingers unclasp from the edge of the counter as his vision goes black. For just a second, he loses his balance; but to his dimay, he doesn’t crash to the floor, instead he lands on a warm chest and Alexander’s hands wrap around his shoulders. His tormentor holds him as he cries, lulling him into a sense of care, however false or temporary that might be.

“I’m sorry…sorry…” Junior whispers between his sobs as he sinks his face in his master’s shirt; too over-whelmed to know what he’s even sorry about.

“shhh it’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay…” Alex cooes in his hair as he presses soft kisses to the crown of his head.

Basking in the peaceful moment, they remain still, enjoying the warmth of each other’s embrace, for as long as it lasts.

taglist (tell me if you wanna be added) @ladygwennn @darkthingshappen @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @thelazywitchphotographer @horribleauthortm @angelwhump @hiding-in-the-shadows @oddsconvert @gala1981 @there-will-always-be-blood @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @whumperfully @pigeonwhumps @cc1010fox

#whump #pet whump #whump writing #creepy whumper #whump community #defiant whumpee #intimate whumper #whump drabble #my writing #whump prompt #whumper #whumpee #caretaker #angst #angst prompt #sadistic whumper #torture #cw abuse #obedient whumpee #obedient #stockholm syndrome

[writereleaserepeat]

Hear No Evil - Chapter 5

Previous // Next

CW: bbu, bbu-adjacent, pet whump, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization, dehumanizing intent by using it/its pronouns, ableism, blood mention, scar mention, non-sexual nudity

It felt wrong to touch the boy’s face. It felt wrong to touch a person who had been endlessly abused into mindless submission, someone who had been trained through pain and suffering that they had to exist at the will and command of another. It felt wrong that the boy was still sitting naked, all but skin and bones, entirely unmoving on Rowan’s floor. 

What other choice did Rowan have? Was there another way to communicate with this boy, one  that wasn’t as direct as physical contact? Necessity, Rowan reminded himself as the boy’s face turned upward in his palm. I’m doing this out of necessity.

Even as he gently guided the boy’s face to look upwards, he refused to meet Rowan’s eyes, his gaze directed towards the floor. That was alright. It was going to have to be alright for a while, Rowan suspected. 

After a moment he let his fingers fall away from the boy’s chin. He wouldn’t have admitted it, but he was relieved when his new houseguest held the position rather than dropping back to the ground. 

“Hey there,” Rowan greeted. He did his best to smile. “I don’t know if you remember, but my name’s Rowan. I know this is new for you, but it’s new for me too. It’s new for both of us. I’m sure you’re probably scared, but we’re going to get through this. We’re going to have to learn together, alright?” 

The boy didn’t even blink. 

---

Master didn’t seem upset that Pet was holding still and looking up at him. By the hint of a smile on Master’s lips, it seemed that he was pleased by the unusual posture. 

It didn’t dare meet Master’s eyes, of course, but now it could try and read his lips. Even if it couldn’t decipher the words that Master was speaking, it had already come to enjoy the soft murmur of Master’s speech. The kindness and warmth was enough for it to relax. 

New… new… new for both of us… learn together…

Pet knew that it could do that. Pet was happy to learn new things for its Master, and it was going to try its very best to do them well. Failure meant punishment, but even worse, failure meant disappointing Master. Disappointing its old Master is what got Pet into this mess to begin with. It could handle any amount of pain, however Master chose to train it, but disappointment always burned the deepest. 

Pet can be good. Pet can learn with Master. 

---

It struck Rowan that now only was the boy still naked, but the stench of waste and sweat clung to his body. The putrid odor of the liquidation event had begun to seep into the room at no fault of the boy’s own. 

Of course - Rowan privately scolded himself for forgetting. The facility never gave its victims the luxury of proper hygiene, and this one had been stuck at the liquidation event for days, before eventually being stuffed in a box. There was no wonder that the boy’s curls were slicked down with grease and dirt. 

Rowan attempted a smile. He knew it didn’t reach his eyes, but how could it, when he knew how much pain this person had been through? 

“How does a bath sound, yeah? Can we do that?” Rowan offered this enthusiastically. Rowan also knew that his bathroom was a bit of a disaster, scattered with half-empty shampoo bottles and skin care products he hadn’t used in weeks. He tried to soothe himself by rationalizing that the boy wouldn’t particularly care about the room’s cleanliness. 

There was no reaction to Rowan’s offer, not a nod, not so much as a twitch. It was all he could do not to sigh, worried that any sighs would be interpreted as misplaced frustration. The last thing he wanted to do was set the boy on edge. 

He remembered what worked earlier, the very gestures that had lured the boy to his bedroom in his first place. After giving himself a determined nod, Rowan took a few steps backwards, and gestured with a low hand to invite the victim to follow along. 

Much to Rowan’s relief, the boy understood. He scampered forward on his hands and knees, eyes glued back to the ground, every bone on his gaunt frame showing. As much as Rowan would have preferred him to walk on two feet, this was going to have to do for the moment. Just enough to get him cleaned and settled in, nothing more. Then they would begin work on rehabilitation. 

As soon as Rowan opened the door to the bathroom, the boy bolted forward and into the tub in a tangle of limbs and apparent enthusiasm. Rowan hadn’t spoken a single word or made a gesture. He smiled in spite of himself, and cocked his head to the side.  

“Alright, I guess baths are okay? That’ll make this easier.” Rowan thought about the many victims that had been tormented by water, scalded or frozen at inhumane temperatures, or held beneath the surface until they drew mouthfuls into their lungs. To have a victim who was at least amiable to the cleaning process would relieve the burden on them both. 

The boy had resumed the typical kneeling position in the tub, seemingly unbothered by the hard porcelain. Rowan figured it was best not to try and correct that for the time being. One step at a time. Be encouraging. 

Rowan leaned over to the spigot and slowly turned it on, carefully easing the handle towards “H,” and diligently checked the temperature as water began to flow. Once it was comfortably warm he plugged the drain and watched as the clear liquid began to pool around the boy’s legs. Rowan almost swore he heard a contented sigh as the boy’s eyes slipped closed. 

For the first time in more than a day, Rowan felt himself smile, a genuine smile. And for the first time, he felt that maybe he was cut out for this. 

---

Pet was grateful for the washing before it even began. Its old Master was so particular in keeping Pet clean, and would have his servants scrub Pet down every day beneath a stream of hot water. Sometimes the soap was floral, other times it was citrus, but it always left Pet smelling wonderful. Handler never gave it such luxuries when it was sent back to the training facilities. 

The water rose ever higher, first over its thighs, then over the pale skin of its stomach, until the water finally came to a stop right above its navel. It could have groaned with how pleasant the warm water felt on its aching legs and bruised knees. For a moment it nearly dared to speak, express its gratitude for the kindness, but knew better than to open its mouth without being told. 

Still, it was a treat to have Master wash it rather than a servant.

Master gently cupped warm water over its head, and Pet closed its eyes tight to keep the water out. With each new splash of water Master continued to talk away, his voice nearly as warm as the water, wrapping around Pet’s shoulders along with the suds. Of course, the words were still indistinct, and Pet listened in case there was a command it could discern, but it was already starting to think that maybe Master just liked to talk. Pet wouldn’t mind that at all. 

---

“I’ve never really had anything to name before,” Rowan mused aloud as he worked his fingers through the boy’s curls. The texture was so much deeper than his own, the ringlets rich with weight. He made a quick mental note that the dollar-store shampoo he used for his own pin-straight hair would most certainly not do in the future. 

“You see, I had to name a goldfish when I was a kid,” Rowan continued as he began to rinse the shampoo out. “I had to name it, and I stalled for weeks. My parents kept asking me, and my sister kept bugging me about it, but I just didn’t have anything. My mom eventually suggested ‘Goldy,’ and I just went with it. But if you can’t tell me what you want to be called, at least not yet, you deserve a name. A proper one, something with a bit of dignity.”

He wondered if there were websites to help with such a thing. namesforyourbrainwashedhumanslave.com? It wouldn’t surprise him. 

“You’re going to have to learn to wash yourself in the future.” Rowan gently wrung some of the water from the boy’s thick head of hair and hoped he wasn’t pulling on the roots. “It’s okay if that doesn’t happen right away. I’m more than happy to help, but I want you to feel comfortable doing things on your own, without having to ask me. You can come in here and have a bath whenever you want. The apartment incorporates the cost of utilities into the monthly rent already, which means we can use as much as we want at no extra cost. It’s nice to have almost unlimited heat in the winters, especially this far north.”

As he began to carefully wipe away the grime on the boy’s face with a warm cloth, Rowan nearly startled when the boy leaned into the touch. He hadn’t expected to feel pressure returned against his hand. After pausing long enough to pull himself out of the shock, Rowan pressed on and began to scrub at the dried blood on the side of the victim’s face. Flakes of muddy brown and deep crimson scabs covered the deep gouges that ran from his temples, down his ears and jawline, almost down to his neck. Given the extent of the damage, it was a wonder there was any skin left. 

“I hope one day you can tell me how these got here,” Rowan murmured as he got a good look at the wounds for the first time. Blood flaked away and fell in hues of brown into the water, mixed with fresh red from the most recent and still-weeping wounds. 

“I’m sorry,” Rowan whispered before he could stop himself, because he knew he had to be hurting the boy, no matter how gently he tried to proceed. The wounds were deep, and Rowan wondered if they needed stitches. How was he supposed to tell? Maybe they were too wide for stitches, maybe the scar tissue was already too well-formed. 

They were different than the scars that Rowan had seen on other victims before, and he had seen the aftermath of many instruments of torture in his time. These scars were jagged, and they were as wide as three fingers across, as though they had been continually torn open. It was the first time Rowan saw them this close up, and he noted that the cartilage of the ears was warped and knobbed. Again, something like he had never seen before. 

The water had turned a translucent copper color, and Rowan tried not to be sick as he reached in to drain the bathtub. A quick hand gesture and the boy got out of the tub and knelt back down on the bath mat. 

Right, towels. Dry him off. 

“Let’s get you dry, huh?” Rowan spoke. Maybe it would help ease whatever tensions were running through the boy’s mind if Rowan kept narrating what he was doing. He imagined it would be beneficial to take away some of the nerve-wracking suspense, and instead replace it with vocalized certainty. 

Forcing a smile on his lips, Rowan grabbed the freshly-laundered towel he had set aside, and held it out in the boy’s line of sight. 

“I’ve got a clean towel here. If you want to do it yourself, just grab the towel, and I’ll stop. Otherwise, here we go.” 

As soon as the terry cloth made contact with the boy’s shoulders, he leaned into the touch, his upper body shifting a few centimeters closer to Rowan’s own. Again. This time, Rowan didn’t startle quite so easily. In fact, he was surprised at himself, and the happiness that blossomed in his stomach. 

He knew he couldn’t take happiness in this forever. There was no joy to be taken in a human being that acted on inhumane training, a human who sought other human contact because they were told to, not because they wanted it. But if the boy wasn’t afraid of him and his touch, that was one small victory. Rowan had a feeling he was going to have to take the little victories for what they were. 

“You’re doing great,” he said, not for the first time that hour. But this time, Rowan knew he might have been talking to himself as well. 

---

Taglist: @honey-is-mesi @aswallowimprisoned @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @honeycollectswhump @rekiroyalstraightprincemaru @tragedyinblue @clairelsonao3 @octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @peachy-panic @whumplr-reader @dislexiher @cc1010foxy @onlybadendings @panstardalia @tempoghast @whumpzone

#hear no evil #whump #whumplr #whump community #pet whump #whumpee and caretaker #recovery arc #bbu adjacent #mind the cws #anyway this chapter is just slow af #if I rewrote this front scratch I'd probably take it out #next one gets more exciting I swear #...maybe #anyway thank you all so much this taglist just has me in shock #some of y'all are authors I really respect with a lot more skill than me #it's really humbling #anyway I love you all thanks so much for reading #'updates on tuesday' is a lie btw #at this point it updates whenever my life isn't in shambles #last month of grad school is rough ngl

[dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night]

Whump Recovery Prompt Warm Stew

"Here." Caretaker slid a bowl of steaming beef and potato stew over to Whumpee. "Eat this."

"I don't deserve to eat," Whumpee insisted.

"Are you disobeying me?" Caretaker asked with one raised eyebrow.

"N- no master," Whumpee stuttered. "Of course not. Please don't punish me. I didn't mean anything."

"I know," Caretaker said soothingly. "I want you in the best condition possible."

"Pets don't eat human food," Whumpee stated.

"Well, mine does."

Playing into Whumpee's conditioning was bad, Caretaker knew this.

But Whumpee had panic attacks whenever Caretaker tried to insist they were a person, worthy of respect and care.

After Whumpee's second time passing out from hyperventilation, Caretaker had decided that their first priority was getting Whumpee physically healthy.

The mental damage could wait.

Whumpee bent down to lap up the stew like a dog.

"No," Caretaker ordered. "I cant stand the sound or sight of that. Eat with a spoon. Or a fork for the bigger pieces of potato and meat. You have both next to you. Use them."

Whumpee slowly picked up the spoon. They dipped it into the stew and brought up a small amount of broth and a few corn kernels.

They put the spoon in their mouth, then pulled it out. Chewing the corn seemed to take mental effort, but they managed to swallow.

"See?" Caretaker asked. "It's good, isn't it? You need to eat like a human from now on. I won't accept anything less."

"Yes master."

Whumpee continued eating, and picked up the pace as they realized that they weren't going to be punished.

Caretaker smiled. Yes, Whumpee's physical health was more important than their weird pet training.

The mental issues could wait for another day. For right now, Whumpee was finally eating, and nothing else in the world mattered.

#Whumpee #Caretaker #Deconditioning #Questionable deconditioning #Bad deconditioning #Pet whumpee #Ex pet whumpee #Cw food

[redd956]

Feral Whumpees Ideas: Pet Whump Ver.

CW: pet whump, and the usual that comes with it??? (I’ll put it all in the hashtags

By now bear with me, I am not familiar to throwing out pet whump ideas, so I’m doing my best here

Also a continuation/re-rendition of this post

- Whumpee turning against Whumper, showing them how bad a feral pet can be

- A muzzled whumpee still snarling underneath the restraints

-Whumpee jerking violently backwards after making a charge while still being tethered

- Whumpee bashing and throwing themselves against their cage as soon as anyone nears it

- Again, the tranq-gun

- Caretaker being forced to muzzle Whumpee, knowing they’ll never unhear about the betrayal later

- A starved/abused whumpee going feral at the next living thing they see

- Rescued whumpee that is perfectly fine, calm, and recovering until they come in contact with a stranger, then they turn feral on a whim

- Whumper keeping feral whumpee, but getting a new shiny untampered replacement

- A team needing to subdue whumpee

- a monstrous whumpee bearing claws and teeth, making inhumane sounds

- Whumper handing over a concealed cage to Caretaker, as the nervous instantly regretting caretaker watched the cage shake, rattle, and snarl.

- Whumper trained whumpee to be their little guard pet, and now they will do anything to protect their whumper, and turn feral towards the caretaker trying to take them away from said whumper

- Whumpee who has decided to become the guard pet to Caretaker, not letting anyone ever get close when they’re around

- A whumpee such an absolute unit, and so feral that they are restrained by not just a muzzle and chains, but mittens wrapped tight around their hands, a bell/shock collar (and a sharp tail wrapped in cloth)

@mottinthemainpot @violent-ultraviolet​ @themostpowerful​

#feral whumpee #pet whump #cw muzzle #cw restraints #cw pet whump #feral pet whumpee #feral whump #caretaker #whumper #whump #whumpee #pet whumpee #feral pet whump #restraint whump #whump ideas #feral whump ideas #whump prompts

[somnoflesh]

“You’re crying?”

Keeper removes his hands from his wings. He leans forward to grab little bird’s arms from behind and presses his winged back against his chest. Holding him from moving…though he was too struck with a paralyzing fear that he wouldn’t have moved anyway.

“You’re seriously crying, little bird?”

His voice is never raised. He never yells. It’s what scares birdie the most. He seems to have so much self-control despite how often he grabs and pins him still when he weeps. He scolds him so softly, reprimands him in such a kind voice, that no matter the words coming from his mouth, it seems so truthful. Something in your best interest.

“You’re that scared of me, are you? I’ve done nothing to hurt you. In fact, I do so much to help you…yet you cry. You cry like i’m so horrific…like I don’t clean you and feed you. As if I don’t put clothes on your back made just for you…”

Little bird attempts to give a weak and hoarse ‘i’m sorry’ and nothing comes out. Just his ever hitched breathing and scared little chirps each time the keeper adjusted his hold on his wrists.

“That’s enough.”

He lets go.

“I’m going back to my room. Try to calm down before your bath.”

He stands up and leaves with no other parting words. Leaving the door wide open. He left little bird to sit and cry over nothing. He never took his wings from him. He never yelled at him. Yet the little bird couldn’t help but sob.

What a pathetic birdie he was.

(from: chapter one)

#intimate whumper #male whumpee #whump #pet whump #not a prompt #original whump #fic excerpt #winged whumpee #noncon touching #cw gaslighting

[highwaywhump]

Surgery, part 2

This is a series! Masterlist is here and the first part of the surgery arc is here

so i lied, i rewrote the second part and the whole thing is now closer to 4.5k. enjoy

TW/CW: former pet whumpee/extremely conditioned and dehumanized whumpee having a panic attack, being forcibly 'restrained' (by caretaker!) during said attack, and forcibly drugged with a needle/syringe. brief scar mention, blood mention, very brief description of a cut. discussion of professional misconduct i guess.

--

Aaron stops dead in his tracks in the doorway. At first, he can’t even see Joey - all he sees is Becca, the red-haired nurse who had helped them get Joey’s x-rays, handpicked by Dr. Perez. She’s clutching her arm, blood trickling out between her fingers. Next to her are two more nurses, both tall, broad men, unknown to Aaron. He can’t see Joey at first, all he can see are the three people, two too many, the red blood staining Becca’s scrubs, and a puddle of water and broken glass on the floor. 

And all he can hear is Joey’s desperate sobs and Becca’s voice, trying to communicate something to the two other nurses, who are focused on something behind the bed. 

Aaron doesn’t think, he just acts. In three steps he’s in front of the two nurses, blocking their path, and finally, there’s Joey. He’s all curled up and has tucked himself into the corner formed by the bed and the wall, his skinny arms wrapped around his head, his whole form shaking as he incoherently begs and pleads. Something about being good and behaving and please don’t drug him. 

“We’ve got it,” one of the male nurses says and attempts to move past Aaron, but he holds up a hand, blocking them. “No,” he says with determination, knowing that a pair of huge and institutionally dressed men is the least thing Joey needs right now. 

“No, I’ll take care of him. Help your colleague in the meantime,” he says, if only to stop the two of them closing in like predators. They’ve stances like rugby players, slightly bent at the knees and with their arms out to the side, ready to pounce. Even Aaron, who is perfectly healthy and capable of rational cognition right now, is a little intimidated by them. 

“He should be sedated,” one of them says. “We need to administer pre-op medications,” the other chimes in, pointing to an IV bag laying on the bed, and the pieces fall into place in Aaron’s head. The broken glass of water, Becca who was supposed to be the one administering the medications but who now was bleeding from what looks like a gash in her arm, one of the male nurses who’d dashed past him in the hallway. 

He could see it all playing out. Becca coming in with the IV bag, maybe saying something about medication, reaching for Joey’s arm with the needle in her hand. Joey, still holding his glass of water, already worked up and on edge, losing it at the sight of the needle. Defending himself, in his own hazy, red rimmed eyes. 

And now, having worked himself up, not thinking rationally. Not thinking at all. Panicking because he had defied orders, or hurt someone, or broken a glass. It wasn’t good to say.

“I’ll-” Aaron pauses and breathes out, taking a step backwards from the nurses, towards Joey. “I’ll calm him down, okay? He needs someone he knows. Not…” he doesn’t finish his sentence, only moves his gaze between the two men. 

They seem reluctant. They probably have a responsibility here, handling patients who act out. Only, Joey isn’t acting out. He is just scared, and a pet, and Aaron isn’t sure how much the men know about the situation. Or what they’re even thinking, taking all of Joey’s scars into consideration. It’s as if they’re peaking out everywhere now that he only wears the patient gown. 

“He really needs sedation, for his own safety,” one nurse states. Aaron discerns the unspoken for our safety in his voice. 

For a moment, he considers arguing. He doesn’t want to force anything on Joey that isn’t strictly necessary. Aaron is his advocate and breaching his trust like that while he’s in this state, forcing him to take a needle he clearly doesn’t want, would be traitorous. 

Then again… he weighs the other outcome. Whatever these two nurses think is going on, he can’t let it extend past the patient is unwilling to comply, into the patient isn’t supposed to be here, patient is a pet, patient needs police pick-up. As well as the fact that he could never make Joey come back here after today, even if he managed to reschedule the surgery. It would be like taking a victim back to a crime scene, making them relive the trauma all over again. 

Maybe sedation is for the best. 

“Let me hold him, at least,” Aaron tries. “He can’t handle… this, right now. Give us a minute. I’ll help you.”

They hesitate, but back off, one of them turning to help Becca while the other stands by, looking warily at Joey. Still, he keeps his distance. Aaron exhales and turns around, crouching down in front of Joey. In front of his ward, his responsibility. Christ, everything here is his responsibility. Becca’s injury, too. Does this clinic have a pediatric program or some other heartwrenching project? He’ll donate. 

“Joey?” he ventures, not sure if he can even hear him over his own cries. Okay. Deep breath. 

“Joey, it’s me. Hey, little one.” He goes from crouch to kneel when his knees start protesting, moving as close to the boy as he can. Gently, he reaches out and touches Joey’s shoulder. He flinches violently and his sobs intensify. “Please don’t, please, please, I’ll be good, I’ll be still, please,” he whimpers, over and over again. Aaron hopes the nurses can’t make out the words.

He’s all curled up, tucked into himself as best as he can, trying to disappear. All the while, he’s sobbing and begging desperately, completely gone in his own head. Aaron realizes he can’t talk him down from this quickly enough tonight. They’re on a schedule, and the nurses are growing uneasy. 

He’ll just have to take the plunge. 

“It’s okay,” he mutters as he leans forward and envelops Joey’s bony frame and hugs him close, as tightly as he thinks he can handle. He is petrified, his whole body tight and stiff, and he lets out a scared and confused wail as he’s pulled into the tight embrace.  

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Aaron continues, both to himself and to Joey, as he finds the back of his head and tucks into the crook of his own neck, hoping to provide some semblance of warmth and safety for what he has to do next. 

With his other hand he finds Joey’s, squeezing his fingers to see if he gets a response, if they might be able to communicate nonverbally like that. A squeeze means I’m here, I’m listening, trust me. When Joey is too shaken up to speak to him, he’s usually able to at least squeeze back. 

Not now, though. Joey’s fingers are curled up into a hard little fist. Aaron sighs and hugs him tighter, mumbling apologies into his hair as he clasps his wrist and pulls it away from them, extending it towards the nurses. He watches through the corner of his eye as one of them removes a sterile cannula from its packet and takes hold of Joey’s hand.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Aaron mumbles as Joey whines when he feels the foreign touch. His face is still hidden in his sweater. He pushes even closer and Aaron can feel him trying to pull his hand back, out of his and the nurse’s grip. It catches him off guard - Joey has never, ever opposed anything Aaron has ever said or done. This is completely novel.

“Please don’t do it,” he sniffles into Aaron’s sweater. “Please don’t, don’t make me, I don’t want to, please,” he repeats, over and over, and it breaks Aaron’s heart, forcibly holding his hand away from his body like this, holding him still. 

A part of him lights up with the thought that he still has some semblance of volition. Everything wasn’t beaten out of him. At the same time, right now, Aaron has to disregard it. He has to hold him still and force him to endure it as the nurse feels around for a vein. “Small pinch, now,” he says, as he pushes the cannula through his skin. 

This is all Aaron’s fault. If he hadn’t left the room, if he had been there when Becca came in, they could’ve worked it out together, undramatically. This whole episode could’ve been avoided. Surely, all traces of trust between them must be gone by now. 

Joey moans, in pain or desperation or maybe both, as the nurse attaches the tubing and picks up the saline bag, hanging it on its stand. He collapses in Aaron’s arms. Still, Aaron doesn’t let go, keeping him close. “You’re okay, it’s okay,” he repeats, over and over again, hoping some of it reaches past the walls built up inside Joey’s mind. The nurse picks up a syringe and pushes its contents into the injection port of the IV tube. Then, he, Becca, and the other nurse leave the room. 

They sit like that for what feels like an eternity. Joey calms down after a while, now leaning heavily into Aaron. His shoulders flinch from time to time, but he’s stopped crying quite as audibly as he did. 

Aaron guesses this is the result of the sedation. It was normal, right? Giving a weak sedative before a surgery, just to calm any nerves? Had Becca brought in the sedatives as well as the IV bag or had the male nurses brought it when they heard the commotion? He wonders how much the two of them know. None of them were supposed to be here, he thinks. What did they think had happened? Who did they think Joey was? 

He glances to the side, where he still holds Joey’s wrist. Gently, he angles it - and there it is, the ugly barcode tattoo. His blood runs cold. He didn’t think that far when he took Joey’s wrist to hold it out for the nurses. Did they see it? If they did, had they cleaned up Becca’s sliced up arm and then gone to call the police after? 

He’s left no time to ponder or worry any longer as the door opens and Dr. Perez enters. She seems unfazed by the sight that meets her - blood and crushed glass that hadn’t been cleaned up yet, and the two of them sitting in a corner. Somebody must’ve informed her.  

“Are you okay?” She rounds the bed and crouches down in front of them. “Becca told me what happened.

“I think so,” Aaron answers, gently shifting Joey to get a look of his face. He’s drowsy and heavy in his arms, his eyes puffy and red rimmed as he blinks them open and tries to focus. Aaron smiles at him. “Hey, you,” he mutters softly, pushing his hair away from his face. 

“I hope he’s still up for the surgery,” Dr. Perez says, eyeing the IV bag to see how much of the liquid inside has been reduced. “What happened was… I won’t say normal, but it’s not unusual. We never know how they might react to what we do to them.”

Aaron nods. “Is Becca okay?” 

“She is. It looked worse than it was.” She looks over her shoulder, where the glass and blood still hasn’t been cleaned up. “Don’t worry. She knows that what she does for a living isn’t risk-free. And she knows that we don’t know what kind of trauma our patients carry with them. It’s nobody’s fault. Least of all his.” 

“I have to ask… do the other nurses know? The other two who were here.” 

She looks down. “They know about my situation, what I do. They don’t know about him, per say. They’ll probably make the connection, but I don’t think it will be a problem.”

Aaron’s eyebrows knit together, still not convinced. “How can you be sure?” 

She exhales in a puff, a slight chuckle, even. “Everyone in this industry knows somebody who knows somebody who does this sort of thing.” Illegal surgeries. The words are unspoken, but still clear as day. “I am far from the only one, believe me. If they didn’t like it, they would have quit and reported me a long time ago. And then they’d start working at the next hospital and have to do the same thing. There’s always someone.” She gives him a minute, knowing smile. “This country would run out of healthcare workers if they revoked every license from one who has treated a pet or ex-pet.”

Aaron doesn’t quite know what to say. He’s relieved “So… we’re good?” he asks eventually, for lack of better words. 

Dr. Perez nods. “We’re good. Now, let’s get going before the anaesthesiologist gets tired of waiting.” 

She helps him support Joey up to his feet and then to sit down on the bed. He’s swaying, gripping at the bedsheets to keep his balance, so Aaron gently guides him to lay down instead. He’s completely still, only breathing. His eyes are large and round as he finds Aaron hand, holding onto it with startling solidity. 

“Was… was I bad?” he whispers shakily. 

“No,” Aaron says immediately, not leaving it up for discussion. He doesn’t know what Joey knows, what he remembers of what had happened. Still, he won’t let Joey go around with doubts in his mind. 

His other hand finds Joey’s cheek, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. He leans into it, still keeping that intense eye contact. “No, sweetheart,” Aaron says, softer. “You weren’t bad. You were just scared.” In his head he adds It was my fault, I’m sorry, thinking the statement might be too much for him to make sense of now, in his delirious, drugged state. 

Joey dips his head slightly in what might be a nod. Aaron tries to smile at him. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go get that leg fixed up.” 

-

tags <3

@simplygrimly @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @briars7 @hackles-up @doveotions @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @kixngiggles @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @whumpthisway @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumping-snail @pumpkin-spice-whump @pigeonwhumps

#cw doctors #cw talk of surgery #cw pet whump #cw conditioning #cw scar mention #cw blood #cw bruise mention #cw syringe #cw needles #cw restraints #sort of #its really just a tight hug #but its from a loved one so maybe #betrayal #is a better tag #cw cut description #pet whump #pet whumpee #bbu #boxboy whump #boxboy universe #whump fic #whump #medical whump

[honeycollectswhump]

Gone, gone

[masterlist]

CW: accidental self-harm-like actions, suicidal ideation (NOT acted upon), blood, emeto, loss of a friend, mental breakdown, referenced: substance abuse, pet whump recapture

The plates are the first thing she sees. She had set the table and prepared dinner. The sauce is still in the pot, now cold. Aveline should put the pot aside, clean away the remains of what was supposed to be their meal. She doesn’t. 

The plates are the first thing she sees, and she tears them down. She swipes over the table, not stopping as they shatter on the ground. Gone.

The glasses are next. Intricate, little designs that once belonged to her old landlady. Aveline pushes her palms into the glass, crushing them until shards dig into her flesh. She doesn’t feel anything. Blood seeps into the tablecloth, that's how she knows, the knowledge just barely grazing her mind but leaving no impact. Gone. 

Tears blur her vision, as the grabs the cloth. A breath, then two. With a jerk, she rips and tears, cutlery clattering to the ground. Aveline claws at it. She wants it to hurt. It can never hurt, she can never hurt, but she wants to. 

This is pain, she thinks, this must be pain. 

A scream wrenches itself from her throat. Her voice cracks. She cracks. She is in her body and she is not. The sight of her home disgusts her, it destroys her. If she is loud enough she won’t have to hear herself. 

A glint of the sun against one of their pictures catches her eye. Aveline whirls around, cloth in hand, disoriented. She stumbles against the wall, the cloth getting caught on the frame, and she tears and tears and tears. 

The photo falls to the ground, breaking on impact. There is a crack over his face, there is a crack over Atlas’ face and he’s gone. Aveline stares at it, at the ruined picture, at what she’ll never have again. Gone. He’s gone.

The thought settles over her like a fog, taking over. Someone is screaming, she is screaming, and she’s breaking apart at the seams. Aveline yanks at the coffee machine and throws it across the room. It collides with a cabinet, the booming sound ringing through their empty house. Filling the silence between her screams, her sobs. Gone.

There are still shards stuck in her hand as Aveline lurches forward to retch into the sink, her ears filled with a deafening ring. Nothing but bile comes up but she feels like she can see pieces of her very soul laying exposed to the world, ugly and rotten, with fraying edges. Fat tears roll down her face, dripping down and mixing with droplets of blood. Gone.

Aveline crumbles to the ground, falling hard on her knees, barely registering the impact that will leave her with bruises she will never be able to feel.

It doesn’t make sense! 

Atlas was supposed to go out for a short walk, he was supposed to come back just in time for dinner. He didn’t even take his phone with him. 

They told her he’d run away, like he did before, from his old life. But Aveline knows, she knows, he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t run without preparation, he’d take money with him, or a proper jacket or anything at all. 

They don’t trust him, they say there is no evidence. They say it’s to be expected of someone like him, someone like her Attie, especially with his addiction. 

He is six months sober now, but they don’t believe him or they don’t care. To them, it doesn’t matter how hard he worked to get to this point, how much blood, sweat and tears went into this. Atlas had fought to get bits and pieces of his life back, that his old Master had stolen from him. It would be all for nothing now. 

Atlas is gone, he was taken. 

And no one will do anything.

It hits her then, all at once. 

There is nothing.

There is no hint, no message, no reason. No evidence and no case. No one to turn to, no one to lead the search. 

He’s alone, she’s utterly alone and he’s gone. 

Gone. 

The moon rises. It takes a while for Aveline to notice the shift in light, to notice that the taunting sunset has given way to the cold moonlight. Distantly Aveline thinks her knees must hurt, her joints must be stiff. Time simply passes by her without touching her and it’s not like her body can tell her otherwise.

The blood has started to dry, sticking to her skin and clothes in clumps. She is barely there, her mind moving through a swamp of numbness. This must be pain and it will kill her. 

It will eat her from the inside out until there is nothing left and Aveline will welcome the bliss of nothingness with open arms. She can’t do this, she simply can’t. She can’t continue on with her life, as if nothing happened, can’t imagine a life without him, without her Attie. 

She wishes him back, begs for him, even if in his darkest days, high or drunk, she doesn’t care, she’d take it all if just to get him back. Having him back, anything would be enough.

Maybe she will die like this. Aveline contemplates never moving again, it has nothing left to give anymore. Maybe she will starve or die of thirst, maybe her heart will just mercifully stop beating. If it doesn’t, she could help, doing nothing but accelerating a natural process. 

Then he’d be gone and she would never have to feel this torment again because she’d be gone too.

Still, something inside her fights the thought, sending a spike of urgent desperation up and down her spine. 

Atlas, her Atlas isn’t dead. He is gone for her but he isn’t gone gone.

He would be if she gives up. He’d be gone, in the sense that he could never be there again if there isn’t someone fighting for him.

Someone has to do something.

It won’t be any law enforcement and it won’t be the Pet Lib shelter Attie told her about either, the one that had helped him become who he is now, doesn’t believe her or in him. Maybe she could ask around in Pet Lib groups but it’s not like Atlas ever gave her access to their resources and Aveline knows they are notoriously impossible to find for outsiders.

And what can a girl like her do anyways? She has nothing but her mind and her body and that can never be enough when all the world demands is money and power.

But there is no alternative, is there? If Aveline doesn’t do anything, then no one will, and then Atlas will be left all alone in whatever hell has claimed him. 

She is nothing without Atlas and maybe these feelings will pass but Aveline hopes they don’t. She holds onto the longing, the desperation, making her frantic, making her shake.

In the end, Aveline has everything to give. If she loses her mind or loses her body, it will be no different from now. And for now, it’s enough to help her get up, to help her move, even if she is just a tool to get her Atlas back.

taglist: @octopus-reactivated let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

#oh look it's the start of The Bad Arc #if ava is already doing this bad... you can imagine that atlas is doing even worse #and they will continue to suffer for a while :) #Holding Up The Sky #aveline king (oc) #atlas/mutt (oc) #caretaker turned whumpee #cw self harm like actions #cw emetophobia #vengeful caretaker #referenced substance abuse #emotional whump #hurt/no comfort #angst #self sacrifice #in a way? #blood #pet whump #recapture #whump #whump writing #whumpee and caretaker #cw suicidal thoughts #honey's writing

[blackrosesandwhump]

Uncommon Whump Tropes

I compiled the answers to my recent uncommon whump trope question into a list for everyone's reference. Enjoy!

CW: very brief mentions of teeth whump, minor whump, female whumpees, noncon body modification

Feral hissy kitten whumpees, the bitey scratchy ones who scream incoherently at their rescuer/caretaker rather than use their talking words. The ones who can’t be made to understand they’re not going to be hurt anymore

Medieval fantasy dungeon/torture chambers

Female whumpee and platonic male caretaker

When person 1 passes something to person 2, via kiss or other pda, to help P2 escape somewhere, especially if there had been some kind of prior misunderstanding between them

Good old-fashioned chloroforming

Mind control and mind control-adjacent tropes like hypnosis

Whumpers who are subtlety scary

Childhood trauma/minor whump

Whipping

Teeth whump

Older whumpees

Whumpees who aren't conventionally attractive

Non-“innocent sweetie” whumpees: bastards, confused himbos, feral ladies, baffled aristocrats, tormented monsters, traumatized immortals, frightened Everyday Gals who react by throwing things and yelling, questionable antiheroes

Whumpees who turn bitter. Whumpees who are angry and complicated. Recoveries that are tough. Caretakers that don’t know what to do because a little nice touch and sweet words aren’t enough

Captive whumpees that slowly manipulate the situation they're in, gaining enough favor and trust with the whumper till it's the right moment for the tables to be turned and whumpee can get their revenge

Snakes used on the whumpee

Female whumpees

Small whumpers

Whumpers that aren't the physically stronger ones

Whumpees who aren't honorable, who lie and scheme and cheat their way out of their bad situation

Whumpees who aren't defiant, because they're smart enough to know all that defiance will get them is more pain. They aren't stoic because they know the whumper wants to hear them begging and crying

Manipulative whumpees. They bend, pretending to break, until their whumper gives them an opening

Villain whumpers who aren’t interested in captivity. They just love to antagonize the hero, do they care about stealing or blowing up the city, no not that much. But they love getting on hero’s nerves and beating them and mentally dragging them down until they can hardly do it anymore, and then just moving onto a new hero when it gets to boring for them

Androids, or human whumpees inside mech suits that get ripped to shreds during a fight so that the circuitry is exposed

Average whumpees, whumpees who aren’t super muscular and have more realistic proportions, whether they are large, medium, or small

Caretaker with some sort of trauma already in their past, and they’re desperate to protect whumpee, who’s probably someone older.  The caretaker— having been scarred and trying to grasp at any bonds they have made as comfort— takes care of the person who should probably be taking care of them, and then, when the whumper comes in and does what they know best, the caretaker goes ballistic. They do unexpected, dangerous things to themselves behind whumpee’s back. They get themselves so deep in their deals with whumper just to be able to get whumpee out, because caretaker would inflict pain on an entire continent before letting whumpee go. And when the whumpee’s out, caretaker is too far in to turn back now… maybe they’ll force the whumpee back, they’ll be safer with them anyways…

Monster whump. More claws, wings, fur, long ears, tails

More queerplatonic Whumpee/Caretaker relationships

Female whump (that isn't non-con). Ladies can break their arms and get kicked in the gut too

Being conditioned into submission and having trouble shaking it, i.e. even days after the shock collar has been removed they still almost never speak unless spoken to

Human experimentation

Unique stress positions, especially ones where the pain builds up over time

Noncon body modification, but more extreme than piercings & tattoos, e.g. wings/ears/tails/etc, or cybernetic things

Sci-fi themed whump that's not about androids

Whump involving timelines, time loops, alternate universes and other stuff like that

Physical signs of whump for supernatural whump that aren’t scars or lost body parts, like changed eye colors or new appendages or like marks on your soul

Forced mind control self-whump while the caretaker watches but doesn't know they're under mind control, or even a non-consensual situation because it's just barely mild-looking enough until the caretaker leaves because they really thought they were doing the right thing by trying to step in but they were told they were just interrupting and now they feel bad. And the whumpee has no idea what’s going on but when they come to and are being weakly willful to the whumper but they are informed that the caretaker saw and didn’t care, breaking the last part of the whumpee’s will that was barely holding out

More accidental trauma reveal

Lab whump

Lady whump (and lab lady whump)

Feral whumpees

Spitting blood

That trope where the group has to explore their loved one’s mindscape to save them and secret trauma is revealed in their memories

Being presented with a fear that is wholly mind numbing and the annoying character not poking fun at the one that's scare

“Phantom pain” but not in the traditional amputee sense, e.g. whumpee’s arm gets cut off in a corrupted video game and he still feels the pain of it IRL despite his real-life arm being intact…or alternative forms perhaps being: sharing a soul with someone and feeling the pain that they feel, characters with past lives feeling old injuries from their predecessors, or a mecha story where damage done to the mech is felt by its pilot

The plot allowing enough time for a newly disfigured character to process and grieve over their new appearance, e.g. Spiderman 3; the worst/best part is Peter did this to him, which adds that best-friends-do-permanent-damage-to-each-other-but-they-remain-good-friends layer. They could overcome that sense of betrayal, even if Harry ended up dying

Character getting kidnapped while sick

Teams saving someone from hypothermia

Colleagues as caretakers

Seizure aftercare

Dehydration after a long spell somewhere hot, like working hard outside, and whumpee doesn’t feel the heat exhaustion and dehydration creep up on them, which can lead to a fever

General extremes of heat, when someone pushes their own body to the limit and doesn’t realize until it’s too late, and their coworkers and friends have to pick up the pieces, leading to some pretty difficult conversations about looking after yourself and listening to your own needs

Whumpee leaves or disappears and after some time is found again with a big injury by caretaker with no context

Brainwashed Whumpee randomly switching between their brainwashed personality and their original one. Top tier: the original is stoic and grouchy but the brainwashed is either really goofy or lovey-dovey - and their loved ones go from finding this funny, to finding it unsettling because the original personality is reacting to it with terror

Shapeshifting whumpers. Whumpers that can effortlessly infiltrate and adapt to whumpees' friend circle even before (or after) whump. Whumpers that shapeshift into whumpee's loved ones during whump. Whumpers that basically catfish whumpee by turning into multiple different people and all "befriending" Whumpee, just to see the look on whumpee's face after the "I have friends who will find me" moment

Older pet whumpees, e.g. pets on the verge of being put down or past their prime time of use being berated for being so slow and weak and useless. Pets knowing they’re on borrowed time and knowing that their master is so merciful as to keep their worthless ass alive

Impalement through the neck/strung up by the neck

Being forced to apologize to everyone for making them worry while you were being tortured/otherwise suffering

Whumpees who aren't male and white

Redeemed villains that are too scared to ask for help and they end up hiding all their injuries from the hero(es)

TW: noncon/abuse/nsfw

Tickling, either consensually dubcon or against whumpee's will

More nsfw/dubcon (basically noncon but the whumpee doesn't really have a choice to resist)

Noncon touching (SEXUAL)

#whump #whump tropes #whump list #whump reference #whump ideas #whump scenarios #whump inspiration #tropes #writing tropes #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #pet whump #torture #injury #blood #gore #fear #heroes and villains #general cw #whump prompts #whump prompt list #triggers #content warning

[dustypinetree-reblogs]

My Masterlist of Favourite Works, so I can reread them whenever~

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• Pet Whump:

1: WRU: Pet 205-843 (No official title) — 29 Chapters &C (Ryan/843/Pet/Joey - Human Pet, Pet Whumpee, BoxBoy Universe, WRU, Extreme Conditioning, Dehumanisation, Institutionalised Slavery, Physical Whump, Medical Whump, Compliance, Sir/Master/Handler, Reluctant Caretaker, Regression)

Written by @highwaywhump

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2: Unintentional — 25 Chapters &C (Whumpee = Aiden/839, Clueless Caretaker = Leo - Human Pet, Pet Whumpee, BoxBoy Universe, WRU, Trauma, Recovery, Experimentation, Drugging, Dehumanisation, Institutionalised Slavery, Medical Whump, Conditioning)

Written by @distinctlywhumpthing

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• Captive Whump:

1: In The Woods Somewhere — 36 chapters (Whumpee = Buck, Whumper = Fletcher - Held Captive, Torture, Physical Whump, Mental Whump, Violence, Stockholm Syndrome, Training Camp, Whumper Turned Caretaker)

Written by @knivestothroats

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2) Behave — xx Chapters (Medical Whump, Hospital Whump, Drugging, Experimentation, Whumper Turned Caretaker)

Written by @jordanstrophe

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3) The Basement Whumper — xx Chapters (Torture Whump, Sadistic Whumper, Violent Whump, Captive Whump)

Written by @jordanstrophe

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• Uncategorised:

1: MD-264N — 13 Chapters &C (Living Weapon, Dehumanisation, Conditioning, Whumpee Escape, Caretaker)

Written by @pigeonwhumps

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2: A White Rose — xx Chapters (Non-Human, Kidnapped, Put On Display, Physical Whump, Loss)

Written by @itsleighlove

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#whump writing #whump community #whump fic #whumper #whumpee #conditioned whumpee #whumpee and caretaker #bbu whump #pet whump #pet whump bbu #cw wru #medical whump #torture whump #sadistic whumper #noncon drugging #conditioning #dehumanisation