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#kind whumpee
whumprince · 5 months
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When whumpee flee from their captivity but, because of their physical and mental state, they collapse in the middle of a forest and are found by a complete stranger that turns out to take care of them even not knowing a single thing of who they are and why they were in that state.
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innocentwhump · 5 months
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I love whumpers who own pet whumpees for companionship.
I love whumpers who talk kindly to pet whumpee but in a way where they are using whumpee for conversation and never giving a thought to whumpee ever leaving them because they are their pet.
Whumpers/masters who come home and talk to whumpee without even acknowledging that they bought whumpee from an auction.
Whumpers/masters that don't acknowledge that whumpee had a previous life without them.
Whumpers/masters that are nice to whumpee but they don't treat them as someone who has thoughts and feelings that are equal to their own.
Whumpers/masters who never mention the outside world apart from their own personal interactions with people which is too vague and specific to give whumpee any information.
Whumpees who are treated well, given the food, water and clothing they need but are not free to leave or make any of their own choices.
The person treating them so well and never laying a finger on them is also holding them captive.
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urlocalwhumper · 5 months
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living weapon whumpee who's never known anything but pain and violence.
their existence hurts. they were made to be effective, not happy, and their masters decided that keeping them in constant pain provided better results. they're wilder, more unpredictable, and the pain keeps them from thinking straight enough to question anything.
they're only given painkillers, only allowed a respite from their seemingly endless suffering, after a successful mission. it keeps them loyal, and most importantly, teaches their brain to associate acts of violence with relief and rewards.
everyone they've ever met has treated them as a tool, a monster, or both. they don't know how to be anything else.
that is until they're rampaging through a village, destroying, killing, whatever their masters demand of them. whatever will give them a few blissful hours of numbness.
one of the villagers steps out of a ruined building and looks them straight in the eyes. whumpee expects fear, hatred, disgust, the things they see in the faces of every person who's ever crossed their path. but they see something completely different.
compassion.
whumpee is so stunned, they don't think to move or do anything at all as the villager steps closer, gently reaching out a hand to cup whumpee's face.
"oh, poor thing." they murmur, taking in the creature in front of them - part human, part animal, part machine. "they've done a number on you, huh?"
whumpee blinks at them. pain continues to course through their body, but the gentle hand on their cheek distracts them, even if just a little. all the indistinct noise in their foggy, addled mind finally goes quiet.
caretaker had stepped out in front of the being destroying their home with the intention to get through to it or die trying, and the expectation to absolutely die trying.
they did not at all expect the seemingly feral mishmash of metal, fur, and flesh to lean so heavily into their touch that they nearly collapsed into caretaker's arms.
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crabofthewoods · 2 months
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currently thinking about a universe where having your own whumpee(s) is like. a widespread thing. and i want to dump my train of thought somewhere so here you go
stronger/more durable whumpees are worth more because they last longer — maybe they’re used as lab rats for whumper to test a new torture device or weapon
on the other side of the spectrum, weaker whumpees are worth less — maybe they’re usually bought in bulk
whumpees being bought and given to family members as gifts during the holidays (like a dog — pet whump possibilities??)
“buy one, get one free”
“handcuffs/weapon(s) not included”
online quizzes telling you what kind of whumpee would be best for you (again, like a dog)
immortal/super-powered whumpees being auctioned off (i have the mental image of whumpee being in a cage in front of a crowd like in that one jurassic park movie idk)
whumpers trading whumpees
whumpees being used as currency; whumpers exchanging whumpees for food/resources/weapons
whumpees being labeled as “new” or “used”
whumpers complaining to each other about how much weapons/handcuffs/etc cost now because of how many people are using them
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chaotic-orphan · 3 months
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A quick prompt
“Please…” Hero wheezed, clawing their fingernails desperately into the dirt, trying to pull themselves forward, closer to Villain who was so heart wrenchingly close if Hero could just reach them. “Please d-don’t…”
Villain tilted their head at the exhausted Hero with more pity than sympathy, and a little bit of awe at how even when beaten, even when eating dirt, Hero still didn’t know when to quit. Maybe they were born without a survival instinct.
“I told you before Hero,” Villain said.
Hero’s grip in the dirt turned their knuckles white and they cried out a strangled scream of frustration and helplessness as they pulled their limp body towards Villain.
“You can’t save everyone, everywhere, at all times and expect to get away with it.”
“Yes…” Hero panted, dragging themselves an inch closer. “I can. As long as I draw breath, I can save the world.”
“Sweetheart,” Villain cooed, clicking their tongue against the roof of their mouth. “You can’t even save yourself.”
Hero heard, more than saw, Villain push the button on their remote and froze. It was as if the Earth took a sharp inhale of breath — the world turned slower, nature grew quiet, all Hero could hear was the ringing in their ears and the thundering pounding of their heart in their throat — the ground rumbled beneath Hero and they had just enough strength to push their head up to watch as everything they knew turned to ash.
The fire burned hot, as if Hero was in it instead of beside it, looking down at it, and no matter how much they wanted to Hero couldn’t tear their eyes away from the flames or the screams or the smoke or the sirens or the death and destruction they could have prevented if they had just been stronger.
Hero flinched as a hand settled on the nape of their neck, rubbing soothing circles over the skin. “It was a valiant effort Hero, I want you to know that. There is nothing you could have done. Although you did come the closest to beating me. I had to even the playing field a bit, what with your borderline obsessive tenacity.”
Villain’s words sent a shiver up Hero’s spine. “Don’t worry, this is only the beginning. I told you we would change the world, didn’t I?”
They did. That was the first thing Villain ever told Hero. At the time it sounded so attractive, so endearing. It was so easy for Villain to convince Hero to follow Villain after that because they wanted the same things.
Hero just didn’t imagine that in order for the world to change, so many needed to die.
“Come on now, let me get you back to bed. We can start rebuilding tomorrow. That’s when the real work begins.”
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the-broken-pen · 2 months
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“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.
They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.
Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.
“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”
The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.
The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.
For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.
Shit.
They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…
They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.
It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.
The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.
The hero would be the death of them.
They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.
“What are you doing with this?”
The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.
“Wrapping my hands?”
The villain hissed in a breath.
“With electrical tape?”
The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.
“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”
The villain blinked at them.”
“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.
“Not if you wrap it right.”
Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.
“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.
Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.
“Bandaids move—“
The villain hushed them.
“Be quiet for a second.”
The hero, wisely, went quiet.
The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.
“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.
“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”
“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”
“I’m not destroying myself—“
“You are.”
“Shut up—“
“Hero.”
“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”
They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.
“Better than who?”
“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.
The villain watched them, waiting.
The hero took a shaky breath
“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”
The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.
The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.
“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.
“No. There isn’t.”
“Hero.”
“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.
“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.
“You don’t understand—“
The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.
They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.
“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”
“But I-“
“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”
The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.
The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.
For now, though, they had to take care of hero.
“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”
The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.
“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”
That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.
“Fine.”
The villain turned to them. “Okay?”
Are you going to be alright?
The hero seemed to understand.
“Okay,” the hero agreed.
Yes.
And so, it was.
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oliversrarebooks · 3 months
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chemical imbalance
You know that trope where horrifying things are treated as mundane? You know that trope where the whumper is talking around the whumpee like they aren't even a person? This is that story.
TW: alien abduction, alien parasites, body horror, brainwashing, mind control, restraints, tentacles, forced drugging, forced medical examination, complete dehumanization, condescension, defiant whumpee
The receptionist was young and lovely, their skin a fetching shade of blue-purple, and their human host was healthy and smiling, with the dazed, glassy expression that indicated it was well taken care of.
5X2 couldn't help the wave of intense jealousy. Their own human host's gut churned in panic. It was lucid enough to know it was being brought to the doctor, and didn't like the idea at all, stress hormones flooding its fragile body. 5X2 pumped out chemicals to soothe it, beamed calming imagery into its mind, even tried to reassure it through its psychic connection that it was just the doctor, the doctor was going to help it, and hopefully they'd both be feeling better. 
All of their efforts only put the smallest dent in the distress their host was feeling. Well, no wonder -- 5X2 couldn't even remember the last time their poor host had properly slept. They took a deep breath, reassuring their human host that they weren't angry at it, not at all. They loved their host and knew it wasn't its fault it was struggling so hard. The host thrashed mentally, adrenaline rising, coming dangerously close to waking fully as 5X2 wrangled its consciousness back under control.
"I'm 5X2-YLL, and I'm here for my 3100 appointment," they said to the receptionist, hoping they couldn't tell how much trouble they were having with their human.
Sympathetic waves rolled from the receptionist as they looked 5X2 up and down. Oh, they could tell. 5X2 knew their human looked an absolute mess, with a wild expression, deep bags under its eyes, and poor hygiene. The past few days, 5X2 had even taken sick leave from work, embarrassed to go out in public in this state -- that's how they knew they had no choice but to make a doctor's appointment.
"Right this way, 5X2. The doctor is running a bit behind, but if you'll just go into this examination room, they'll be with you shortly. Please have your host change into this medical gown... if you're able."
"Yes, thank you." The door clicked shut behind the receptionist as 5X2 looked around the small examination room. It looked like any other doctor's office, but they couldn't help but notice that the examination chair had formidable looking restraints on it. They supposed it was to be expected for a doctor who specialized in disorders of host control.
The far too lucid human noticed too, and all of its muscles tensed as it signaled to every corner of its body to escape, escape, escape. 5X2 had no choice but to inject yet another low dose of paralytics into its bloodstream, just to make sure it couldn't actually act on that misguided impulse. 
The paralytics kept the human from moving, but also meant that 5X2 had to do much more manual work puppeting its body, and they were so, so tired. With their host's clumsy fingers, they pulled off their shoes, shirt, and pants, and slipped on the flimsy medical gown. The human was expressing distress at having their physical form exposed, of all the ridiculous things. Sometimes 5X2 wished that its constant fears at least made sense. Instead, it was scared of the doctor, of being nude, even of the everyday, ordinary sight of other human hosts with their passengers atop their heads, tentacles nestled neatly in their ears and euphoric expressions on their faces.
I'm trying to help you, 5X2 conveyed through their psychic connection for what seemed like the billionth time this cycle.
All they got back in return was terror, anger, and the intense desire to go home.
We can go home after the appointment, 5X2 reminded it, beaming soothing images of their quarters, the cheery artificial sun lamp, their collection of exotic plants, their vibrant fiber arts, the beautiful view of stars from out of their window. Their host had always been calmed by these things in better days, but it wasn't working now. It didn't make any sense to 5X2 -- if it wanted to go home so badly, why didn't it respond to sensory landscapes of home? 
Surely it wasn't lucid enough to desire its human habitat...? The human habitat was a death world compared to the safety and comfort of the space station.
There was a knock on the door, and the doctor walked into the room. They carried an air of authority about them, perched on top of a petite human who moved with unusual grace. "Hello, 5X2," said the doctor in a kindly voice. "I understand you're here because you're having difficulty in controlling your human host. Is that correct?"
5X2 looked anywhere but at the doctor, pretending to be very interested in a cabinet full of jars of multi-colored fluids. "Ah, yes, that's correct."
"There's no need to be ashamed. There's a lot of unfair stigma attached to host difficulties, but I assure you that it's a far more common problem than you think. There's no judgement here. Please, tell me about what you've been experiencing."
"My human host is almost completely lucid for most of the cycle," 5X2 confessed, trying to suppress their waves of shame and sadness. "I can't keep it fully entranced, I can't soothe it, I can't even put it to sleep. It's constantly scared and stressed and won't stop filling its body with adrenaline."
"I see."
"I have to spend so much of my energy just keeping it from fully waking, and it's affecting my work and my social life. I can't even relax on my days off, because every time I let my guard down, it decides it's a good time to fight me," they said. "I love my host, but I'm at my limit. I can't go on like this. It's sick all of the time from stress hormones, and I'm constantly fatigued. If there's anything you can do, anything at all that would help..."
The doctor's host nodded sagely. "There's a number of common conditions that could cause symptoms like you're describing. If you don't mind, I'd like to take a blood sample from your host so we can run some lab tests while conducting the examination."
"Of course," said 5X2, holding out their host's arm while the doctor prepared a needle for the blood draw. As the needle grazed the host's skin, the human managed to wrest enough control to jerk backwards, irrationally panicked at the sight of the needle. "I'm so sorry. It's been especially determined to fight me on everything today."
"It's nothing to worry about. I see it all the time. Hosts can be smarter than we give them credit for -- it's probably realized that the doctor's appointment is for putting it back under."
"But why does it fight that? That doesn't make any sense -- doesn't it want to be calm and happy? Why would it want to be stressed and miserable?"
"Oh, it's not that it wants to be stressed and miserable. It's just the natural state of hosts that aren't fully entranced. It's not its fault that it's acting this way -- it just doesn't know any better," said the doctor. "To make the examination easier, it might be best if we strapped your host into the chair, if you don't mind the restricted mobility."
"Not at all. It'd be a relief to not have to suppress their impulses," said 5X2. Their human predictably howled with displeasure, scraping and clawing for any bit of control over its limbs as 5X2 fought its body into the chair and tried to hold it still as the doctor restrained it. It was even managing to resist the paralytics, utterly desperate to escape.
If this doctor couldn't help them, 5X2 was going to lose their mind.
With the host's body securely restrained, the doctor was finally able to take a blood sample. The human's consciousness was thrashing like a wounded dust-moth, but with their body secured, 5X2 could devote their whole efforts to dampening their mental distress.
"If you'll excuse me a moment, I'll bring this to the lab. We should get results in around ten deciclicks."
5X2 tried to relax in the chair as the doctor left the room, but of course their exhausting host was having none of it.
Why are you fighting so hard? they asked.
The answer was always the same.
I want to go home. I don't want to be a host. I don't want to be hypnotized again. Please let me go.
Incoherent nonsense. The poor, confused thing.
"All right, that's taken care of," said the doctor, entering the room and perching on a nearby stool. "Now, may I ask you some questions? How long have you been noticing these symptoms?"
"About a quarter star turn."
"I see. And have you previously sought help for them?"
"...No. I really should have, before it got to this point, but I was ashamed. I thought it was temporary, and that I could fix my host myself."
"At least you're here now. You're doing the right thing," said the doctor encouragingly. "How often does the human sleep?"
"Only once every few cycles, and for only a few clicks at a time. I can't keep it to anything resembling a schedule, either, and it doesn't seem to respond to sedation at all. The only mercy is that it often sleeps while I'm at work."
"And how do you normally soothe it?"
"I think I've tried just about everything. Before this all started, it was so easy -- a quick wash of sedative and neurotoxin, some soothing hallucinations, a little gentle urging of slumber, and it was out in a milliclick. It would normally sleep for half the cycle. But now, nothing works. Not toxins, not hallucinations, not psychic compulsions. It doesn't matter what I do, I simply cannot put it to sleep.  The only reason it sleeps at all is because its own consciousness turns itself off when it becomes too exhausted."
"You say it was easily controlled before?"
"Very much so. It took very well to deep trance, especially if I was listening to music. It enjoyed art and scenery and was calm as can be. I never imagined it was capable of so much anxiety."
"How close is its consciousness to the surface?"
"...Very. It's listening to everything we're saying. It might even be able to understand us. Well, as much as any host is capable of understanding."
"Has it ever become fully awake?"
5X2 hesitated.
"Please, don't be ashamed. I'm here to help you, but I need you to answer my questions honestly. Has it ever become fully awake?"
"...A handful of times," 5X2 admitted. "It didn't get very far before I was able to paralyze it and return it to my control, but... it was so terrifying, to feel my host wake, to take full control from me and do what it wished with its body."
"That's a very traumatic experience," said the doctor sympathetically. "Once we have the main issue sorted out, I recommend a visit to memory alteration to remove the unnecessary fear generation."
"Won't they judge me for losing control of my human?"
The doctor seemed lightly amused. "5X2, it's the memory alteration department. Don't you think they've seen far worse than that?"
"You're right, just a silly insecurity on my part," said 5X2, mirroring the doctor's amusement.
"Let me perform some quick examinations on your host's body while we have you here," said the doctor. "Your host is partially lucid and fearful right now, correct?"
"Extremely so," said 5X2, feeling the horrible squirm in their host's gut at the mention of the doctor examining it.
The doctor waved a small light in front of the human's eyes. "Pupils are very dilated. It's focusing clearly on my light, indicating a high degree of responsiveness. Dark circles indicate a dangerous lack of sleep, and the skin seems unusually flaky and dry. This all matches the symptoms you've described."
They moved around to 5X2's side, using the light to peer into its host's ear. "Everything looks healthy and normal here," they said, giving a slight tug to 5X2's left connector tentacle. "Connection seems firm. I assume it's enmeshed with the correct portions of the brain? You have at least six tendrils on each side of the frontal lobe, three in the parietal, and two in the occipital?"
"Of course, doctor."
"I know it sounds obvious, but I have to ask. Believe it or not, I've had more than one patient that neglected to enmesh the frontal lobe entirely. You can imagine what kind of a state their poor host was in."
"I'm amazed that anyone in this age is so ignorant. That sounds like torture for them."
"You're not wrong," said the doctor, clicking off their light. "From the outside, there doesn't seem to be any issues, but if we can't resolve the problem, we may need to do some scans to check that all of your tendrils are properly connected. It's uncommon, but there are certain disorders that prevent proper cohesion of tendril to host brain."
"I'll subject myself to any tests if it will help."
"I know how intensely uncomfortable it must be to have your host so wakeful, for both you and it," said the doctor. "I'm certain we can help you. It's extremely rare for this sort of problem to be beyond the reach of modern medicine."
A knock at the door, and the receptionist entered the room. "I have the results from the lab for you," they said, slipping out again quickly.
The doctor's host took the readout and looked it over, as 5X2 waited in anticipation and 5X2's host trembled in terror. Finally, there was a wave of satisfaction from the doctor. "I have good news for you, 5X2. The lab results may have given us an important clue to your problem."
"Truly? What is it?"
"You see here..." The doctor placed the readout in front of 5X2. It was full of miniature graphs and jargon that they didn't have a hope of understanding. "Most of the toxin levels in the human's blood were highly elevated -- no doubt due to your efforts to keep it under control -- but one in particular was abnormally low, almost undetectable."
"And that is?"
"In basic terms, it's a powerful hypnotic, the primary toxin used to keep the human mind asleep and docile. Without this important chemical, your host's mind is far more alert than it should ever be. That makes it less receptive to all of your efforts to soothe it, allows stress and fear hormones to build up in its delicate brain, and causes it to resist being put to sleep."
"And that's what's missing?" said 5X2, feeling waves of relief at having an answer.
"It would seem so. The absence of this hypnotic would make it next to impossible to keep a healthy human under trance. It's no wonder your efforts to sedate and entrance your host were fruitless. I'm honestly impressed you were able to walk into my office."
"Is there a cure?"
"There are a few different conditions that can cause this. To start with, I'm going to give you a prescription for a course of medication that should help promote the natural release of this chemical from your toxin glands. It has a few minor potential side effects, which the informational packet will describe."
"No side effects can possibly be worse than what I'm going through now. How long will that take to have an effect?"
"It should be at full strength in eight to ten cycles. We can see how you're responding, then, and I can advise you on a further course of treatment."
5X2 steadied themself. Eight to ten cycles. They could endure eight to ten more cycles.
"But in the meantime, we can simply inject your host with a big, healthy dose of the chemical cocktail it's been missing."
5X2's elation was almost drowned out by its host's panic and despair. "You can do that? You can do that right now?"
"Certainly," said the doctor, pulling a jar of translucent blue liquid from a shelf. "Let me prepare the injection. It's all natural and safe for both of you. I'm sure you're both eager to get some reprieve from fighting each other."
"And I'll be able to put my host to sleep? To keep it under trance?"
"With this extra strength, time release formula, it should be well out of it for the next few cycles, exceedingly simple to control. You can both finally get the rest you need."
"Oh, thank you, thank you, you don't know how much of a relief that is."
No! No, no, no! the human was screaming through their connection. Don't let them inject me with that! Let me go! I want to go home! I need to wake up -- I need to --
"I need to wake up!" 
5X2 felt their consciousness suddenly cut off from their host's body as the human woke. It pulled at the restraints, trying to get its hand free.
"Please let me go! Don't do this!" the human yelled, as the doctor looked on with curiosity.
"Oh, you're awake? Now, now, we're only trying to help you," said the doctor. "Aren't you tired of fighting? Aren't you scared and hurting?"
"I'm scared and hurting because of what you're doing to me! This isn't right! Humans aren't meant to live like this -- you've taken my entire life from me!" Tears streamed down its face. "You're a doctor -- if you have any compassion at all, please listen to me! We don't want to be hypnotized and turned into puppets. We don't want to spend our whole lives sleeping and hallucinating and floating along in a mindless trance. We want to be free!"
The doctor patted its head. "I know this must all seem so scary to you, but it's only because of a chemical imbalance. That's why your passenger brought you here to the doctor, to help you. Your passenger loves you very much and only wants the best for you. Do you understand?"
"No, I don't want this. This is wrong -- please listen!"
"You're going to feel so much better in just a few minutes. I promise. Just trust me," said the doctor, their host easily pinning down 5X2's host's restrained arm and administering the injection. 
"No, please!" 5X2's host struggled uselessly against the tight restraints, its panic reaching a fever pitch, as 5X2 sat in their own mind and watched. "Please! Please listen! Let me go! Let me... go..."
The human host's body relaxed, sagging against the restraints as its control over itself suddenly diminished. 5X2 could feel a lovely sense of peace wash over their host, a sensation they hadn't felt in a quarter star turn. 
5X2, eager to take back its host, sent deep, hypnotic compulsions to fog its host's mind, to sink it into a pleasant daze, to pull it back under their control, and they were delighted when the host responded swiftly and easily. All of that fight, that fear, that anger began to evaporate like mist as 5X2 gently soothed its host into a trance.
You want to be a good host, 5X2 coaxed. You want to stop resisting. You want to weaken your feeble mental defenses and let me in.
I want to... Their host's thoughts were faltering and slow, easy to manipulate, just as they should be. I want to be a good host... want to let you in... want to drop my defenses... stop resisting...
Yes, that's right. Lower those defenses. You're safe, completely safe. You can relax now.
There was only a slight hesitation before the response. Safe... relax...
 5X2 felt the human's resistance melt away, leaving its mind like soft clay in their grasp.
Finally.
5X2 rewarded their host's compliance with a pleasant vision of the ship's recreation district, filled with laughter and games and live music, one that their host used to be fond of before it became impossibly defiant. Their host latched onto the familiar, mollifying hallucination right away, like a young one with its comfort-toy.
Fun... pretty...
Yes, it is fun and pretty, said 5X2. You deserve it, because you're being very good right now. Aren't you glad I took you to the doctor?
Feels... hazy...
And isn't that good?
Mmhmm... good... so good... thank you...
"How is it feeling now?" asked the doctor. "Any better?"
"Oh, yes, that was absolutely brilliant," said 5X2. "It's completely docile and enjoying its favorite hallucination right now. I can't thank you enough."
"Excellent. I'm just glad that worked. I'll make an appointment for you ten cycles from now, and give you the prescriptions for the medication I recommend, along with a course of injectables to keep your host nice and compliant. It shouldn't give you any more trouble."
"That sounds perfect."
"I recommend putting your host to sleep for the next cycle. It must be so fatigued after all of that pointless struggle, and a prolonged period of rest will help it to reacclimate to your control."
"I don't think I need to worry about the last part," said 5X2 gleefully. "It seems so relieved to be back under. But I agree that it needs sleep. Maybe I can get some sleep too."
5X2's host was already flooded with the injected sedative, so they sent a simple but strong compulsion to lull it asleep. Its exhausted mind responded right away, filling it with a deep, irresistible drowsiness, its remaining thoughts dulling and fading as it drifted away peacefully. The cheerful hallucination of the recreational zone would give it pleasant dreams. 5X2 couldn't remember the last time their host had been so quiet, not a hint of stress or nightmares.
It was so charming to feel their delightful host curling up comfortably in its own mind and going to sleep. It reminded 5X2 of how much they loved their host, before everything had gone wrong.
"It worked," said 5X2 in awe.
"Asleep already? I thought so. It was so worn out."
"Thank you again, doctor, for all of your help. My host wanted to thank you, too, before it fell asleep. I can tell that it already feels so much happier."
"It's my pleasure." The doctor released 5X2's host from the chair. 
5X2 stood up, shedding the medical gown and putting the host's clothes back on its body. Control was simple and seamless now, the host's body moving exactly in accordance with 5X2's wishes. They could hardly believe what a difference a little chemical persuasion made. With their newfound freedom, a part of them wanted to go out and indulge in all of the fine pleasures they had missed out on for so long -- but really, they knew it would be far more prudent to go home and sleep.
They'd do that after they picked up those prescriptions, of course. They weren't going to let a simple chemical imbalance ruin their life any more.
Masterlist
It's always the weirdest things you need to get out of your system, right? I don't know where this came from, but I'm tempted to write more about this alien parasite society. Like how they acquire humans, and how other pairs are doing...
What would you do if you had a passenger of your own?
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jordanstrophe · 5 months
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Whumpee was abandoned by their team. They were deemed "too risky to go back for '' and considered a tragic loss. Whumpee's world was crumbling as they accepted their fate-
"What are you doing here?" A gentle voice asked. "Where are your friends?"
Whumpee scooted their knees to their chin and sighed in defeat, "Somewhere safe, I hope." They muttered.
"Well it's not safe here. Come come, off the ground." They extended their hand as whumpee looked up. They had never known the face of their enemy, but they didn't know this face either. It felt like they had no option but to take their hand.
"That's it. Let's get out of here, shall we? It seems I'm separated from my group as well. Let's cautch up to them." They warmly gripped whumpee to their side.
"And maybe you could join us." Whumper smiled.  
[Heehee here's a part 2]
[Oh no here's a Masterlist]
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rescued whumpees are good but they're even better when they're fucking feral.
kicking, hollering, biting, scratching anyone who even tries to come near them, let alone touch them in any capacity.
huddling themself up in a corner or under furniture as some sort of escape.
literally growling/hissing, glaring at everyone with shifty and untrusting eyes, ready to pounce the moment they see a chance at escape.
not believing the hand reaching to bandage their wound won't make them hurt even worse afterwards.
gaining and losing trust with a caretaker in half a second when they move too fast or try to touch something that hurts.
having to be worked with for days, weeks, months just to get them to settle down when another person occupies the same space as them.
only bonding with other whumpees who were only just recently rescued as well, immediately sensing a similar distress and trying to comfort them
becoming twice as feral when it comes to 'protecting' said whumpee friend from all these people that just want to help
making so much progress in learning how to be comfortable with someone, only to have it undone by an innocent mistake that triggers their past abuse
latching on to one specific caretaker only and being a hellion with anyone else because they're just not the same
causing such a ruckus for so long that it's unnaturally eerie to see them quiet and submissive when a certain face appears to offer their assistance in taming them...
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montammil · 7 months
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Whumper who wouldn't dare hurt a hair on Whumpee's head. No, they love them so much, they'd kill for them without an ounce of hesitation--and they have.
When Whumper accidentally roughs Whumpee up, they're apologizing frantically and cradling them, almost in tears. Even when it's not their fault, they're panicking over their beloved Whumpee.
But just because they wouldn't physically hurt them doesn't mean they won't kidnap them, threaten their loved ones, and keep them locked in the basement.
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cpt-winters · 1 year
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Sudden Collapse *Team Leader Edition*
Come on, pull yourself together.
Leader leaned his hands on the table, squinting at the map sprawled across it and blinked a few times as it blurred in and out of focus.
"Leader? You were saying..?" Teammate Two prompted.
"Right," he started again, ignoring how the room span as he lifted his hands from the table. "So if we plant charges on...on the..." his voice trailed off, his thoughts slipping through his mind like sand. He dug his nails into his palms, willing himself to concentrate.
"You alright, boss?" Teammate One asked, their brow creased as they stepped closer.
"Fine," he dismissed as the team exchanged confused and concerned glances.
Just wanting to get through the briefing, Leader took a slow, deliberate breath before continuing. "If we plant charges on the w...west generator, that should... should buy us- enough t-time to... to..." Leader stumbled through his words, his sluggish mind unable to navigate the fragmented thoughts as another wave of nausea rolled over him.
He vaguely registered a muffled shout from Medic.
"'m fine," he slurred, reaching out for something to stabilize himself as his body swayed dangerously. He hadn't even realized he was falling until his head slammed against the floor.
"-oss? Boss!"
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theinsomniacindian · 4 months
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New dynamic idea: Touch-starved living weapon x haphephobic human experiment
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The shift from fighting a villain to fearing them is so good.
Where once, they looked at him with a distrustful glare, fists raised up, and fire stirring in their chest- now?
They fear him.
He places his hand on their face, strokes the side of it, and they tremble.
He pulls them close, presses them flush against him, and they shake.
He places a hand on their thigh. He rubs the skin there, slowly sliding his hand up higher and higher, and they whimper.
Sometimes he thinks about taking a photo of them, like this. The pathetic, fearful, mewling pet. He has pictures of them from before.
They will never go back to what they were.
And it's glorious.
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the-three-whumpeteers · 8 months
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The whumpee wasn’t known to stand up for themselves or fight back, so rescue moved as quickly as possible. Everyone is shocked to see just how easy it is to break into the whumper’s base, and just how unguarded it is, but they’re more shocked to see that somehow, the whumpeee has managed to turn the tables on the whumper. Something had apparently snapped inside of the whumpee, as their friends find them in the middle of torturing the whumper.
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zoethehead · 4 months
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A whumpee trained as a soldier is injured in battle, and they lay covered in dirt and blood, the hectic warfare surrounding them. Another person was nearby, holding them close, shouting for someone....possibly a medic or the enemy about to take them hostage. They're going in and out of consciousness, unable to breathe as the smoke burnt at their throat and lungs. They passed out, mumbling something as they're dragged away by someone.....
The whumpee expected to be dead, or at least captured by the enemy and left in a cold cell with their wounds poorly treated, but that's not the case....
as the next thing the whumpee knew, they were waking up more cozy than what would've been possible. They opened their less bruised eye to a ceiling, pale grey winter light shining through the window. They feel warmer than what they had imagined, soft pillows nestled against their head, they wearily blinked, groaning as the pain caused by their injuries sparked like a damaged wire plugged in to a socket. They slowly sat up, wincing at the soreness. They looked down, seeing bandages wrapped around their ribs and chest, as well as their arms and thigh. They soon felt someone put their hand on them and lay them back on the bed.
"Not now, son, you're still injured." The caretaker said.
The whumpee obliged; laying down, still exhausted from the whole ordeal, the whumpee rested once more, knowing that they were safe......
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Caretakers that go
um
you're sad, I don't
what should I do
what should I do oh god I'm terrible at comforting people but
hey uh
wanna have some candy??
oh no why are you crying
I'm sorry please don't cry
oh okay um you're welcome
do you want some more??
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