#whump cyoa

[oliversrarebooks]

Brainwashing Chair CYOA 3- The Struggle

tw: pet whump, restraints, captivity, involuntary drugging

You chose: fake a struggle against the two men to sell the act

The two handlers are flanking either side of you, taking your arms and guiding you along. They're not really using force, as though they expect you to come with them without much resistance. 

But while you, the reporter, did sign up to do this, the character you're meant to be playing did not. It doesn't make sense for you to just go quietly, does it? You should struggle a bit to sell the act, and maybe get some juicy footage sent back to your group when you inevitably get subdued.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself, and twist yourself out of the handlers' grasp just before they take you inside the double doors of the facility. "Let go of me!" you shout. "I don't want to be a pet! Let me go!"

Hopefully, that tiny microphone picked all that up. For a lot of people, this could be their first exposure to how pets are treated and trained, and --

You're caught off guard with how quickly the handlers grab you and press you against the wall. It's not forceful enough to hurt, but the cold concrete scrapes against your skin. "I told you to stay calm," says one of the handlers.

You see the needle out of the corner of your eye a split second before it pierces your skin. Shit! You just expected them to rough you up a bit, not go straight for drugs. You'd prefer to have your full faculties about you as you enter the facility, but it's too late now, with the cold fluid entering your neck.

They pull you away from the wall, your head already beginning to spin. What's in this stuff? Ugh, you should've known this would happen. After all, pets are always physically "perfect", so they had to be using means of control that... that...

The world blurs, and your thoughts slow down. You're too disoriented to put up any more of a fight, fake or otherwise, as they resume dragging you into the building. You're shaking your head in a futile effort to try and stave off the effects of the drug, but it's no use.

You blink, and you're standing in front of a desk. A hospital? It looks like a hospital desk. No... you blanked out for a moment. You're in the pet facility, you remember. It's a sterile, clinical place that really doesn't look much different from a medical building, though, and the receptionist behind the counter is a young woman in a green dress. You fight to keep focus. You have to keep yourself alert to...

...what was it you're doing here...? It's something... complicated, and whatever they put in your system is making complicated thoughts very, very difficult.

"New pet intake?" she says, tapping on her keyboard. "Name?"

You're not sure if she's asking you or one of the handlers.

#whump #whump writing #brainwashing chair #whump cyoa #brainwashing chair cyoa #drugging

[snakebites-and-ink]

Whumper-Turned-Caretaker CYOA 6

CW for the series | Masterlist

FYI: I might not update this next week because I have a lot to do for school including exams, but I should be able to go back to my normal updating schedule after that!

You chose to tell them that obeying is a more important rule than earning their food, so they should obey when you tell them to eat.

You lower your face to Whumpee’s level and look them in the eyes. “Whumpee. I know only eating once you’ve earned it is a rule you’re used to living with. But obeying me and cooperating is a rule you’re supposed to follow too, yeah?”

A look of fear overshadows their face as they realize the implications of that. They probably feel trapped between a rock and a hard place with the rules at odds with each other like this. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s the more important rule. I expect you to be obedient. You’re not going to be punished for doing what I tell you to. Now, eat.”

Whumpee nods. They still look fearful but they pick up the fork and finally start eating.

You watch them the whole time to make sure they don't try anything sneaky to avoid eating their food. This probably means that you’ll have to outright order them every time they need food, but they are eating without getting hurt so you’ll consider it a win.

“Good,” you say as they finish. You debated whether praising obedience might send the wrong message for their recovery, but at this stage you figure it will do more good than harm. They need the reassurance that healthier behaviors are a good thing and they’re not going to be hurt.

You get yourself some food as well. Whumpee appears to take it as a good sign that you sit down to eat, instead of doing something about them having eaten without doing something to earn it. And once they seem reasonably convinced that you’re really not going to punish them for it, they do look happier now that they have a full belly.

Taglist:

@kabie-whump, @whumpanthems, @whumpsoda, @3-2-whump, @generic-whumperz,

@taterswhump, @alivenova, @whumped-by-glitter, @expressionless-fr, @whumpycries,

@whumpsday, @moons-cozy-corner, @echo-goes-aaa, @whumplr-reader, @starfields08000

(had to split it into groups of five because tumblr is having issues)

#interactive whump #interactive #interactive fiction #choose your own adventure #choose your own adventure poll #whump poll #cyoa #whump cyoa #whump #whumper turned caretaker #whump writing #original fic #writing #whumpblr #whumper turned caretaker cyoa #my writing #my posts

[shywhumpauthor]

To the Victor the Spoils—Part One

The Throne

Choose Your Own Adventure / Interactive Whump Series

Masterlist

Cw: capture, blood, referenced abuse/beatings, royal whumper/whumpee, restraints, manhandling

The cobblestone scrapes the underside of your bare feet as you are dragged forwards, either arm seized in an iron-gloved grip of a guard.

You try to find your footing, but you aren’t given a moment to stand, any slight vantage you manage to find is only lost a moment later when you are wrenched forwards. The guards don’t appear to be bothered in the slightest, their pace unfaltering as they drag you down a series of halls.

You are gagged and blindfolded. A knotted cloth shoved awkwardly in your mouth, knotted with strands of your hair at the base of your skull, the fabric turning any attempts at speech to incomprehensible muffles. The blindfold, a long strip of dark silk pressed over your eyes, tied tightly enough for the back of your head where it rested to begin to ache. Even if you managed to get your feet beneath you, it wouldn’t do much—iron shackles with only a short chain between the two cuffs weighed heavily against your ankles. You wouldn’t have been able to keep up with the pace the guards set anyways.

You hear a loud slam of wood, before you are dragged over a threshold into a new room. The atmosphere feels instantly different, stale, damp dungeon air changed to a warm, light breeze. You stumble again as you are taken up a short set of stairs, and then down another hall.

You are exhausted and confused. Before this, you had spent hours locked away in a small cell, unable to move, see, or speak. The blindfold is damp with tears, your face scraped and smudged with dirt. Before you had been dumped in the dungeon, a different set of guards had searched and stripped you, leaving you in only an undershirt and trousers, both which were now dirty and spotted with blood. They hadn’t been particularly gentle while doing so, leaving you with a number of bruises blooming dark plum across your skin. The taste of copper hadn’t faded from your tongue yet, blood dried against your chin.

You hear the sound of another set of doors opening, gentler than the first, and you feel the stone beneath you change to a smooth carpet. You are brought forwards a few strides, before the blindfold is torn away from your head, with it ripping strands of your hair.

You blink, squinting against the sudden light of oil lamps.

You are in a large chamber, pillars framing the far walls. It is easily the same size as your courtyard back at the palace, high ceilings carved with intricate designs and laced with gold detailing. Men in armor like the sides of the room, standing tall and at attention. A long red runner leads straight down the middle of the room, to a section of platform raised a foot or so off the ground. On top of that platform lay a throne, deep satin curtains and a high-arching back that stretched as if reaching for the sky. A servant stood just behind the throne, a silver platter balanced in their arms with a single bottle of rich wine.

In the throne, a man sat, and though his posture was relaxed, a sense of authority radiated from his very being—not just from his royal robes or the crown that sat purposefully on his head. He had one ankle crossed over his opposite knee, leaning back in the throne that was twice his height sitting, yet somehow seemed perfectly sized to him. An elbow rested lazily against the armrest of the chair which he leaned on, his other hand holding a crystal glass filled a quarters way with wine as deep as blood.

His eyes were on you, but it didn’t feel as if he was looking at you as opposed to through you, like you were nothing worth more than a moment of regard. He took a sip from the glass before placing it on the tray the servant held, uncrossing his legs and leaning forwards as he did so.

“Remove the gag.” He ordered the guards restraining you, and the one to your left released your arm, his hands raising to roughly tug the cloth from your mouth, reddened with blood and saliva, he let it fall to hang around your neck. With a flick of his wrist, the guards stepped back, leaving you standing alone in front of the platform.

His stare was piercing, and this time, you could tell he was looking directly at you. Taking in every detail, every strand of hair astray, every tear in your clothes, every scratch on your skin.

When he spoke, his voice was steady, resounding around the chamber like a strike to a drum.

“Kneel.”

(Future installments likely won’t be as long as this, I just wanted to start off on a good note!)

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump prompts #choose your own adventure #whump cyoa #cyoa whump #creepy whumper #captured whumpee #captivity whump #writing prompt #intimate whumper #whump drabble #kidnapped whumpee #abused whumpee #royal whump #royal whumper/whumpee #royal whumper #royal whumpee #whump series #cyoa poll #whump poll #whump tropes #fantasy whump

[whumpinthepot]

Hamster Interactive Story

Chapter 8. Threat

Prev - Masterlist

Content: CYOA format, poll options, Being watched, physical restraint, verbal threats, cages, pet trope, Giant/Tiny, Selective Mutism, poor vision, drug mention (in poll), no medication for pain, fear for ones life, dehumanization, female cast, ableism,

Pov: Hamster, then switches to Ashley for the poll.

Poll winner: Rub your eyes and crawl closer to see if they’re real

—-

You rub your eyes and clumsily crawl closer to the blurry image that stands across the bars. You fall into your shoulder a couple of times but lucky enough the padding in the cage cushions any pain it might have caused. The figure does look like one of Ashley’s prop dolls, and you start to relax. 

Until it talks- “You really are blind, aren’t you, Pet?” 

You scream immediately, kicking backwards from reflex, and the voice becomes shrill, “Hey! Shut up- Stop screaming!” The figure is opening the cage now to get to you. They force the door to stay ajar by shoving a pencil into it. 

They storm towards you, and you don’t stop screaming. In fact you scream more from terror. Until he’s shoving a hand against your mouth and you’re face to face with someone who is the same size as you, “Stop screaming before something bad happens to both of us!” His hand shoves against your lips, and grinds flesh into your teeth. It hurts, and you want it to stop. 

You stop screaming in hopes he’ll let go of you. It doesn’t stop the tears though, and when he takes his hand away you continue to back up to distance yourself from him. 

The man closes the distance and towers over you, “Does the human know about me?” He asks. You stare at him in disbelief, and he says it again, “Does. The. Human. Know. About. Me?” This time you shake your head quickly. 

“You don’t talk do you?” He tilts his face sideways.

Once again you shake your head. You’re not going to say a word to him. 

“Then you won’t tell the human you saw me, right?” 

You keep shaking your head, though you’re not sure if you’re supposed to nod at that last question. It doesn’t matter, because he understands it anyway, “Good.” He seems satisfied enough. 

You both stare at each other for a second, then he takes off. The cage door slams shut, and he’s gone. 

You’re left shaking like a leaf, and you need Ashley to come home NOW so that she can protect you. The medicine in your system dies down mid day, and your arm starts to throb against the inside of the cast. You feel miserable. 

Once Ashley finally comes through the front door, it's late, and you’ve already cried your heart out from fear and pain. 

When she puts her hand in your cage to check on you, you cling to her fingers immediately for safety. Ashley startles, but she scoops you up with no problem, “Oh Honey, does your arm hurt? It's okay, Mummy’s home. Here-“ She puts you to her chest where her heart thumps against you as she chucks her purse onto the counter. She then takes you to the bathroom to get more medicine syringed into your mouth. It’s bittersweet but you swallow it. 

When Ashley tries to put you back down you latch to her thumb, and refuse to let go. You’re still terrified of the tiny man killing you in your sleep. You’ve never done this before, and Ashley seems rightfully worried. She brings you back up to her chest and looks around as if lost. 

—

(Top two or three poll winners may be used) 

Taglist under the cut:

Tag list: @frogkingdom @verkja @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated @marvel-gt @rsitb-second-account @fallen-grace-smd @winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts @kyp-the-spacekiwi @dramat1ques @ilasknives @hollowgast1 @whither-wander-whump @redd956 @zobodahobo @alittlewhump @blackrosesandwhump @angst-after-dark @sandygarnelle @copperyote @kim-poce @mayisreallygay @smoll-stace @demondamage @vickytokio @sunshiline-writes @whump-in-the-closet

#whump cyoa #interactive whump #pet whump #tiny whump #g/t writing #whump writing #whump art #g/t art #breezy’s post #breezys art #long post #hamster interactive story

[cupcakes-and-pain]

Rat CYOA 9

Surprise I’m back. Short one this time though, sorry.

Masterlist

———

You slowly reach a hand out to pet down his chest and stomach, not knowing what else to do. You regret every decision that has lead you here.

But you can’t stop now, and as you continue to pet him, his whimpering and squirming gets worse, and you notice fat tears rolling down his cheeks. You try to dodge every injury on his front (and they were numerous), but petting this area suddenly feels like a bad move.

Resisting the urge to shush and comfort him, you desperately look for an area that maybe won’t hurt as much. The top of his head maybe? Does it have less nerve endings? Also the hair should shield him from feeling it a bit, hopefully.

You reach for his head, hoping this’ll somehow help, and start patting. He whimpers a bit, but doesn’t seem to be in as much pain.

You glance at Virginia. She is watching you intently, but doesn’t seemed very moved one way or another.

Tag list: @whumpsday @kim-poce @scp-1296 @boonasaurusrex just ask to be added or removed! I know it’s been awhile, absolutely understand if this is no longer your thing

#rat the captive #whump #cyoa #Whump cyoa #cyoa poll #poll #multiple whumpees

[whump-in-the-closet]

12. Burning and Suffering, etc.

previous.

cw: sadistic choice, inhuman whumpers, burning, blood, you've gotten yourself in a bad position oops

You can see terror in Valian’ eyes, and you’re worried it’s a reflection of your own gaze. “I was looking for them,” you whisper. 

Triumphant grins are exchanged over your head. The Council’s agents draw closer. “Louder. Say it louder.” 

“We didn’t quite hear you.”

You keep your gaze on the ground. It turns out this isn’t the best idea either, because there’s blood on the grass. 

Probably Valian’s. 

Yours might be next. 

You feel suddenly and violently sick, the words falling dead on the ground beside you. “I was looking for Valian.” The sentence is a confession, an admittance of a wrong you didn’t know you had committed. 

Valian’s expression changes, lifting slightly. 

The one with lightning in her eyes hisses sharply. “They were planning on intervening!” The words sound like wind in the trees. 

The leader strokes the top of Valian’s head, making them wince and try to curl in on themselves. She appears to be considering the accusation. 

“Our time is nearing an end with the traitor.” the third agent, the one with an echoing voice, crosses the ground to tower over Valian. “Should we leave them both?” The way she says it sounds like a threat. 

“But this is an unusual circumstance! The Council said if there is an unusual circumstance we should bring the traitor home.” Eyes flash like lightning in a storm. 

“Peace, Solis. You speak recklessly.” This is the first time you’ve heard the leader speak. You shudder, the hair on your arms standing on end. She glances from you to her other companion. “Keres, you wish to leave them?” 

“Our contract was with the traitor only.” Echoing words. “But, as always, I defer to your decision.” 

“Bring them to me.” 

Solis– the one with lightning eyes– pushes you forward. Before you fully realise what’s happening, there’s a boot on your back and you’re kicked to the ground. 

Terror sprouts like weeds inside your chest, and you’re choking on them. You can feel grass in between your fingers and you can see the edges of the Council agents’ cloaks. You think you can see bloodstains on the fabric. 

You’re on your hands and knees before the agents. You wish the ground would swallow you whole. You wish you had never found Valian. You wish– 

“Helect, isn’t it?” 

When you don’t look up, the leader crouches down. She tilts your head up with a single finger– a single, scorching finger. 

Her hands aren’t physically on fire, but they burn. When you try to pull away– it’s instinctive–she grabs your chin. Now there are five separate places where you’re burning. 

Pain spreads in spider-webs down your throat and face, and you didn’t think you’d cry so easily, but you’re sobbing. You know that as soon as the hand pulls away, you’ll be left with six aching marks on your skin. 

“You have a bounty on your head, Helect. You helped a traitor. You tried to intervene on official Council business.” 

You just want the burning to stop.

“I’m afraid Solis is right. We must bring you to the Council.” She stands, abruptly letting go. 

You clamp a hand over your jaw, trying to stop the leftover remnants of curling pain that remain behind. Your world is collapsing around you and all you can think of is the burning-white. 

“However, I will give you a chance to lessen your judgement.” There’s the sound of unsheathed metal and a silvery knife drops to the ground. 

You pick it up with shaking hands. “What? What am I supposed to do?” You can hardly form the words. 

That's when you notice Valian is no longer beside her. 

The corners of her mouth lift in a thin smile and she gestures to where Valian is now. They’ve been tied to a tree, forehead pressed against the trunk. Their shoulders rise and fall at a ragged pace. 

Through the gaps in the trees, early sunlight falls on them in patches. 

You stare at the blade. The burning makes it hard to think clearly. “What-- What do I do?” 

Again, that smile. Wolfish. Hard. 

It's not the leader who answers, but Solis. Her eyes burn fever-bright. “Show your fealty. Hurt the traitor or we’ll make you wish you had. All before we drag you before the Council. They won’t mind if you’re a little damaged.  And then after, we’ll make you wish you died here.” 

taglist: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast, @d-cs, @annablogsposts, @sorrowful-hyacinth, @whumpsday, @whumpinthepot, @whatwhumpcomments (lmk if you want to be added/ removed!)

#helect cyoa #interactive whump #fantasy whump #whump cyoa #whump writing #guess who's in for a rough time #everyone is #ha #its a whump cyoa afterall

[whumperofworlds]

TAGLIST: @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated

#whump #whump polls #whump cyoa #cyoa #fantasy whump #polls #monsters #choose your own adventure

[jaeyleo]

LOCKS OR KEYS: PART 6

MAJORITY VOTE: CONTINUE TO HELP PSEUDO IN THE GARDEN

Pink sinks deeper into his role of a puppet. Your choice leaves him with a decreased sanity and sense of self.

cws: non human whumper, parental whumpees, dehumanizing language, captivity, descriptions of blood and gore, non human eating a human, mentions of emesis, talk of character death

. . .

He isn’t ready.

Step by step, the puppet descends into the cellar carrying the store bags. He walks behind his caretaker, watching as the unconscious man sways on Pseudo’s shoulder. He looks sleepy. Dead, almost. Part of Pink hopes he is, that maybe Pseudo hit his head hard enough to knock him out for good. That maybe he won’t have to watch another person sit in the same chair, by the same bloody drain, with the same ropes, over the same blood stains that decorate the floor beneath them. A sour taste fills his mouth thinking about it. Why doesn’t Pseudo want to play with me?

The sleepy, hopefully dead man is dumped into the chair. The ropes that bind his wrists and ankles are cut loose, with a brief examination of the skin underneath. He is then restrained, ankles to chair legs, wrists to chair arms. Duct tape is removed, sweat is wiped away. He is completely at Pseudo’s disposal now, and there is not a thing in the world that can stop it.

Pink wonders, as he places the bags by the side table, if he made the wrong choice.

He isn’t ready.

The puppet stands still, watching the slow and shallow breaths of the victim. Five minutes pass by before he feels the silence in the room. Before he feels something else watching, too.

Pseudo sits in a foldable chair, about five feet from the man.

He doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink.

The hair on the back of Pink’s neck begins to stand the more he looks at Pseudo. There’s something wrong with him. There’s something wrong about him.

There are too many eyes on his face. Not ones Pink can see, no, something he feels. It’s as if every cell and germ and living thing on his body has stopped to stare. As if the man in front of him is not a man at all. A bird to a cat. A mouse to an owl. A rotten body to a maggot. A human to Pseudo. Meat, skin, blood, human.

Bile threatens to rise in the puppet’s throat. He looks away, never more grateful than in this moment, to be seen as lesser than human.

. . .

Ten minutes pass before a noise is heard.

“Mmmf-“

The waiting is over, and everyone in the room sits up.

“W….. w- where am I? Who are you??”

Pseudo tilts his his head. His eyes brighten. “Which question would you like me to answer first?”

“I…”

The man’s eyes flicker back and fourth between his two captors. He struggles against his binds, already sweating again. Finally, he decides on a question. “Who are you?”

“Well, I’m Pseudo, and this is Pink.”

The puppet offers a small smile, but he isn’t sure the man is comforted by it.

Pseudo leans forward, “It’s nice to meet you, Pseudo and Pink.”

“…It….. i- its nice to meet you, Pseudo and Pink.”

The captor smiles, and stands up. “How polite!”

“Please, tell me why I’m here. I don’t- I don’t understand—“

At this, Pseudo smiles even wider. He walks to the small side table, gathering the different tools he’ll need. Knives. Matches. Barbed wire. Gardening scissors. The puppet looks away before he can recognize anything else.

“Speak, Pink. Tell ol’ Richie why he’s here.”

Richie’s face goes pale at the mention of his name he never said, and his eyes turn to Pink.

“I…”

The toy takes a deep breath. He can’t meet Richie’s eyes.

“You're.... you're here because I…. I picked you…”

“...Why???”

The man’s heartbeat spikes. Pseudo sighs at the beautiful sound, something only he can hear.

“Um, um…. b- because, um, because Ps- Pseudo um… he wanted s- someone big and… b- big and strong f- for the… for the….”

“For the??”

“….. For the garden.”

Richie is in disbelief. He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t get it, he isn’t ready. He barks out more questions, more pleas and fearful mentions of children and a spouse and how he was just buying groceries for them. More terrified eyes pleading Pink for answers, but before the puppet can say a word…

“Hush, Pink,” says Pseudo, and his mouth seals shut.

"Now...." the monster turns to Richie, holding a small knife. He looks collected, calm, but there's something feral behind his eyes. “The real fun begins.”

. . .

Pink forgets a lot of things. He has trouble remembering important details in life, dates, times, people, places, even things that have happened in the last five minutes. It’s not something he’s proud of, but, he can’t help it.

The one thing he wishes he could forget was this afternoon. Those three horrible hours spent in the basement, burned into his brain. Why must his memory fail him even now?

Broken finger bones lay dead on the ground. Thick globs of blood drip from Richie’s hands where the digits once where. The gardening scissors lay just as bloody on the side table, with bits of meat still stuck in the blade. The walls are decorated in spattered red and bits of brain, when Pseudo got a little too excited in hitting Richie’s head with a hammer. Vomit covers the poor man’s lap, but that’s no matter anymore.

Now that Richie is dead, Pink has been curled up in the corner of the room with eyes closed. Blood is displayed like a blanket across his clothes, dried up in his hair and beneath his fingernails. He hasn’t stopped shaking since the first hour passed. He isn’t confident that it’ll ever stop. He’ll have to get used to that.

Pseudo has been quiet, absorbed in the poor thing he’s called his newest victim. With his head in pieces, an unrecognizable face, the monster pays attention to a more appealing part of the body. Its heart.

He places a hand on the man’s chest, feeling the emptiness inside. It’s not the same as a beating heart, but it will have to do this time.

Nimble fingers curl against skin, dragging thin lines along their paths. Deeper and deeper they sink, eventually twisting themselves to peel back the protective layers to reveal bone. Flesh tears and squelches beneath his hands, blood pouring out of the man like he’s still alive. Soon Pseudo’s hands meet the ribs, and one by one, they are snapped and broken and removed.

His breath shakes. No matter how many times he’s done this, no matter how many times he will do this, the human heart stays endlessly beautiful.

Veins and arteries with clotted blood are carefully cut away. It’s still warm, in Pseudo’s cold hands, the heart is still warm.

He can’t help but devour.

Teeth sink into ventricles with ease. Atria and valves are like candy to pop in his mouth. Heart strings are hard to chew, but he eats them all the same. The SA and AV nodes are no longer producing vital electricity, but he can still enjoy the ghost of it. Each moment of consumption is hypnosis, leaving Pseudo a puppet to his own alien instincts.

But before he knows it, its gone. No more? There isn’t any more?

Hands dig inside the empty chest cavity, pulling out chunks of lung next. He eats, and eats, and eats, and eats.

Pink dares not to move.

It’s something primal. Something deep inside his body that demands a stillness he’s never executed before. Something that reminds him of just how wrong Pseudo looked just hours before, and makes his blood run cold at the thought of just how wrong he’d look now. So he keeps his eyes closed, and listens to the tearing and chewing of flesh like its God’s word.

. . .

He isn’t sure when, but eventually the noises stop. Eventually the puppet is left in a room with a dead man, and predator with a full belly.

He wonders where Pseudo stands. He feels like he’s being watched, studied.

He dares open an eye, finding Pseudo standing above him.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

It covers his face, his mouth, his hands. It somehow drips from his hair and is soaked so completely into his clothes and shoes that the fabric has no other choice but to cling to the skin that wears it. It’s as if Pseudo weren’t just wearing blood, but the blood was part of his own flesh and body.

The monster reaches out a red hand. He hasn’t the energy to croak out a command, so the silence must be understood.

Careful, afraid, obedient- Pink reaches out the same, and hand in unlovable hand, they walk together to the bright and somber upstairs cottage.

Pink is lead to the bathroom, where he first is taken care of. There, Pseudo is gentle. Pseudo is kind.

There is a glazed look in his eyes as he gives his puppet a good rinse off and a bath. Soft clicks and whistles are the only noises that come from him, as well as soft kisses on the doll’s clean hair and hands. All the blood is washed and scrubbed from nails and skin- but the tub displays the same red memory that the cellar walls will forever hold.

When the bath is over, an image of the attic is placed inside the doll’s head. Nothing else enters his mind, nothing is said. A silent relayed command. The doll wanders upstairs, leaving Pseudo to clean up alone.

. . .

He sleeps the rest of the evening, and well into the next morning. The hypnosis from yesterday has worn off, but Chase is more lost than he ever has been. At breakfast time, he doesn’t make a fuss to be dressed and fed and loved upon. He doesn’t want to make decisions again. He doesn’t want to think anymore. Last time it only ended in carnage.

He can’t stop thinking about it while he helps Pseudo wash the dishes. Sad sad eyes watch the running water, and a sad sad mouth stays plastered in a frown.

“Speak, Pink,” Pseudo finally gives him permission to talk. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

#locksorkeysgame #i hope this one is ok!!! i don’t like my pacing but i enjoyed writing certain parts #can you tell what organ i’m obsessed with? #lololol #cw blood #food cw #death cw #gore cw #mentions of emesis cw #parental whumpees cw #dehumanizing language #choose your own adventure #whump cyoa #cyoa #whump writing #doll whump #?? #pet whump #??? #pseudo #puppet pink #puppet pink au #chase barrens #its a fic #whumpee #whumper #lmk if i should add more cws!!

[whumpkinz]

In a choose your own adventure story I think it would be cool to train as a new whumpee or handler.

#whump #whumpee #whumper #interactive whump #whump cyoa #cyoa whump #cyoa game #cyoa poll #cyoa

[oliversrarebooks]

Brainwashing Chair CYOA - Arrival

tw: kidnapping, restraints, conditioning

Previously and previously

You chose: defiant, fighting tooth and nail and cheerful pet training facility

You can see the pet training facility from the window of the van. It's a deceptively cheerful looking place, a modern building with big, sunlit windows and flowering bushes. You see an ordinary looking couple heading in the front door, excited and happy.

You're not going to be brought in the front door, of course. They're not going to drag you past the showroom or the play area or the accessory shop or the pet grooming stations. That might disturb the customers looking to adopt a new pet, remind them where their pets are coming from. That won't be tolerated.

So you're not surprised when the van turns from the entrance to drive around the back, into a dingier area where trucks are making deliveries. You're a delivery yourself, you suppose. The zip ties around your wrists and ankles chafe, and the gag in your mouth is coated with your saliva. The man in a smart looking uniform next to you is scrolling on his phone, not paying you any mind. It's just another workday for him. Just another workday taking a new pet to their fate.

But his ordinary workday might just be the end of your life as you knew it. 

#whump #whump writing #brainwashing chair cyoa #whump cyoa #brainwashing #pet whump

[snakebites-and-ink]

Whumper-Turned-Caretaker CYOA 4

CW for the series | Masterlist

You chose to clean their wounds with soap and warm water.

You figure soap and water is your best bet. Thoroughly cleansing, but gentle. You set up a towel to catch runoff. You’re not giving them a full bath right now, just focusing on washing out their wounds for the time being. You make sure the water is at a comfortable temperature, then set to work cleaning their cuts.

Though it’s a relatively gentle way to clean them, it still stings somewhat in the open wounds. You suppress a smile as Whumpee hisses in pain. Just because now you want to do what’s right doesn’t mean you’ve lost all your sadism.

Once you’re done, you gently pat them dry with a clean towel. You wash your own hands as well. It wouldn’t do to ruin the wound-cleaning with a careless touch.

You apply butterfly bandages to the deeper cuts to help them close. Then you wrap all their wounds in normal bandages. That should take care of the major concerns, as long as you make sure nothing gets worse.

You catch Whumpee’s eye. “If you start to see any signs of infection, or things start to get worse instead of better, tell me, okay?” you say seriously.

“Yes sir, th-thank you,” they respond timidly. Right. You should probably address the titles thing too, now that you’re trying to work towards their recovery.

You consider what your next priority should be. You figure a bath would be silly right after putting on bandages. Whumpee probably got clean enough when you washed their wounds anyway. You mentally move a proper bath off of your list of immediate concerns.

You give Whumpee a clean outfit to change into and have them put the old clothes in the wash. You should replace that with some better quality clothes sometime, but until that happens it’s best to have it cleaned to make sure they’ll have something to wear that fits them okay.

Taglist:

@kabie-whump, @whumpanthems, @whumpsoda, @3-2-whump, @generic-whumperz, @taterswhump, @alivenova, @whumped-by-glitter

#I gave you all a chance to indulge in sadism without really hurting them and you chose to be nice anyways...softies #interactive #interactive whump #interactive fiction #whump poll #choose your own adventure #choose your own adventure poll #cyoa #whump cyoa #whump #whumper turned caretaker #whump writing #original fic #writing #whumpblr #whumper turned caretaker cyoa #my writing #my posts

[shywhumpauthor]

To the Victor the Spoils—Part Five

Amusing

Previous || Masterlist

Cw: torture, implied massacre/burning/destruction, kidnapping, restraints

There was just something about him, the arrogant set to his shoulders, the steel behind his eyes, the way the grin curled across his lips, shit, you can’t help it.

A laugh bubbles past your lips and you lean forwards, pressing your forehead to the pillar as heat rises to your face.

You know you shouldn’t be—there is nothing funny at all about this. You are tied to a column, a guard uncurling a long iron-beaded whip not ten feet behind you, your kingdom undoubtedly burnt to the ground. When you had been captured, just before they had blindfolded you in the carriage, you had seen through the small window gap, thick black smoke curling across the blue sky. The entire town square had been ablaze, by now it would be reduced to nothing but ash.

The king’s expression flattened with confusion, but it only lasted a moment before a sharp crack fractured the air.

Your laugh breaks into a sharp cry as the whip split across your shoulder blades, the beaded tail catching and ripping open the flesh. Blood begins to well almost instantly.

“Not laughing anymore, I see,” the king chuckled, stepping back to lower himself into his throne. He propped one arm on the armrest, resting his chin in his palm as he faced you. “Let’s start with twenty lashes, see if you still find any of this amusing.”

The whip cracked again, a line of fire slicing only inches below the first, and you clench your jaw to keep from screaming.

“Oh, and prince, count for me.”

Tag list (lmk if you’d like to be added): @tauntedoctopuses @sorrowful-hyacinth @kaz-of-crows @andromeda-liske @sonder35 @bloodsweatandpotato @merlilica @whump-me @gala1981 @lakelyasleep @icepick-hoe @suspicious-whumping-egg @whumpedydump @thelilbutifulthings @amazingmagda @itsmyworld23 @annablogsposts @whither-wander-whump @whump-in-the-closet @orphans-parent @shannon-foraker @mysticstarlightduck

(Sorry there’s not too many options this time, I couldn’t think of any lol)

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump prompts #cyoa whump #whump cyoa #royal whump #royal whumper/whumpee #royal whumper #to the victor the spoils #to the victor the spoils series #creepy whumper #captured whumpee #captivity whump #writing prompt #intimate whumper #whump drabble #kidnapped whumpee #abused whumpee #torture whump #medieval whump #tw torture #whump series #emotional whump

[whumpinthepot]

Hamster Interactive Story

CYOA

Chapter 6. Clean

Previous - Masterlist

Content: Giant/tiny, pet trope, cages, dehumanization, dubious handling, selective mutism, female cast, broken bones, forced medication, fever/sickness, dubious kiss (platonic, probably on the head)

Ashley’s Pov

Poll winners: Tie between “Wipe her clean”, and “Give her a minute to calm down” and a second tie with half the votes “Brush bedding from her hair”, and “Put her to bed”

—

The poor girl is covered from head to toe in sweat, tears, and dirt from where most of it was swept under the counter where she was found. Her whole body quivers with shaky exhales, and she’s resting on her back with her eyes closed.

You can’t leave her looking like this; that would be disgraceful as a pet owner, so you dab a face cloth under warm water, and carefully wipe Hamster clean while little whimpers slip through her teeth. You’re careful of her left side where scrapes are littered across her skin, washing away any lingering grime until she looks more clean, and comfortable. 

Once that’s done, you give her a moment to calm down on her own while you tidy the bathroom. You keep an eye on her and make sure she’s nowhere near the ledge of the counter, but she doesn’t move. She ends up in a tight shaking ball with her hair pulled over her body to hide, and cover herself.

Once everything is in the trash, put away, and wiped up, you glance at the orange puff. Her shaking seems lighter, if just slightly. She’s gone through enough for the night and you really don’t feel it’s right to keep handling her. Though you did notice the brush on the floor as you were picking her up earlier. Her hair must be bothering her… 

Speaking softly, you lift her into your arms, careful not to rub against her makeshift cast. She’ll need help sleeping tonight, so you syringe a drop of liquid baby gravol into her mouth, and carry her to her cage.

You pick bits of fluff from her hair while you walk to ease the discomfort before placing her into the bedding after kissing her goodnight. 

To be safe, you also tie the cage door closed to keep her from falling again. You leave her alone for the rest of the night, and go to bed yourself.

When you check on her in the morning, Hamster is hot to the touch, and whimpering. Your heart lurches, and you scoop her to your chest while deciding what to do. 

Starting a GoFundMe seems to be less of an option and more of an obligation at this point. Her crying rips at your heartstrings as you snap a picture of her snuggled into your palm. You save the picture to your phone to upload once you have some free time. Hamster has quite the following on your social media, so you’re sure her fans will help you out. 

You promise her it will be okay. 

—

(Tag list under the cut)

Special thanks to @verkja and @alittlewhump for looking this chap over for me <3

Tag list: @frogkingdom @verkja @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated @marvel-gt @rsitb-second-account @fallen-grace-smd @winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts @kyp-the-spacekiwi @dramat1ques @ilasknives @hollowgast1 @whither-wander-whump @redd956 @zobodahobo @alittlewhump @blackrosesandwhump @angst-after-dark @sandygarnelle @copperyote @kim-poce @mayisreallygay @smoll-stace @demondamage @vickytokio @sunshiline-writes

#whump art #whump cyoa #whump writing #interactive whump #pet whump #tiny whump #g/t angst #G/t writing #Cyoa G/t #tw medication #hamster interactive story #tw broken bones #breezy’s post #hamster #ashley #whump

[cupcakes-and-pain]

Rat CYOA 11

Masterlist

———

 Well. Maybe Rat doesn’t deserve this, necessarily. But, now that you think of it, there isn’t any harm in taking a bit of pleasure from this. It’s fun! You have some power, who wouldn’t enjoy that?

Besides, you aren’t causing any actually damage. You were forced into this situation. You didn’t have a choice.

It’s totally fine to loosen up and enjoy this. It’s not like you’d ever be okay with actually hurting anyone. It’s not like you’d ever even do this, despite it being harmless, unless forced and threatened.

You’re still a good person.

If you just keep telling yourself that, maybe the annoying Jiminy Cricket part of you will believe it.

- - -

After alternating between petting his head and tummy a few times and smiling for most of it, Virginia gave you permission to stop.

As you turned away from watching the crying man for the first time in awhile, you saw that the crime boss was smiling at you.

“I saw your expression there, my friend. Have you finally found your sadistic calling?”

“Oh, I don’t know if I would call it that,” You say, slightly uncomfortable. You were a good person, after all. Good people aren’t sadistic, at least not without the consent of all parties. “But uh, yeah. I suppose I was enjoying it a bit.”

Virginia laughed briefly and then studied you, her eyes filled with an unknown expression. It made you feel like a bug crawling near someone’s shoe, being carefully watched so the person can choose the perfect time to squish you.

“Well, if you’ve found something you like, why stop now? The other guests want their turns with Rat, but I see no reason you shouldn’t get to try out our newest one.”

“What’s their name?”

“Doesn’t have one. I rarely name ‘em, only if they really catch my eye. And I can tell you, there’s nothing special about this one. But you can still play with it, if you want.”

———

Tag list: @whumpsday @kim-poce @scp-1296 @boonasaurusrex @whumpinthepot @whumplr-reader just ask to be added or removed! :D

#whump #whump cyoa #cyoa #cyoa poll #poll #rat the captive #whumpee #whumper

[whump-in-the-closet]

8. Deserve It

previous.

cw: breaking fingers in order to reset them, medical whump, victim blaming, not-the-best-caretaker

You don’t respond to Valian's unexpected tears. Instead you gesture for them to lift up their damaged hand. 

After a brief hesitation, they lift up their right hand. Their pointer and middle finger are both swollen– clearly once broken and left untreated to the point where they had healed into twisted shapes. 

You find you can’t look Valian in the eyes. “I’ll have to break them again to set them properly.” 

Valian jerks their hand away from you and pulls it close to their chest. “You have to do this?”

You nod. 

They’re no longer close to tears, but their voice shakes. “You want to do this?” 

You start to nod then stop. The question itself is odd and you can’t shake off the feeling that Valian meant something else by it. 

“Your fingers are broken, yes I want to fix them. Unless you think you can manage it in your, ah, current state.” You’re tired and perhaps your words are sharper than they need to be. 

When there’s no answer, you fetch the materials necessary. 

Valian extends their hand, trembling. 

“I understand,” they say as you take hold of their wrist and twist their hand into the light. “I deserve this after how I have treated you. Even this,” they looked at their broken fingers, “ is kinder than I deserve.”

You almost let go of their hand. “I don’t want to hurt you!” As soon as you say this, another voice whispers, “Don’t you?”  Don’t you want Valian to feel what you went through? Yes they had suffered, but are you going to deny that causing Valian pain will make you feel better?

You swallow hard. You really aren’t handling this well. 

Valian stares blankly ahead but they grip the blanket with their good hand, widening it around and around until their knuckles turn white. 

“Go ahead,” they whisper. “I deserve it.” 

You spit out a response. “You deserve to have fingers that work properly. I’m sorry I don’t have the proper medications, but I swear to you I am not doing this because I want to hurt you.” You’re beyond frustrated. Why can Valian not understand this simple concept? 

Before Valian can answer, you snap their finger to the side, rebreaking it. They don’t scream, but the sudden silence is worse. 

You bind the finger between two stiff pieces of wood, wrapping the bandages tighter than they need to be. You repeat this process as quickly as you can on their second finger. 

This time, Valian hisses in pain.

When you look at them, they’re breathing in shallow gasps. You let go of their hand. 

“Done.” 

Valian sits on your cot and doesn’t meet your gaze. “You’re very kind, Helect,” they whisper. 

You almost laugh. You know it's not true. 

tagging: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast , @d-cs, @annablogsposts, @sorrowful-hyacinth, @whumpsday (lmk if you want to be added or removed)

#helect cyoa #interactive whump #fantasy whump #whump cyoa #whump writing #i did absolutely no research on accurate medical techniques for this #so if its inaccurate i apologise im exhausted and didnt have the energy to bother #it sounded about right #anyway enjoy some angst

[whumperofworlds]

Part 1

TAGS: @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated @cyeayt @pigeonwhumps (let me know if you want to be tagged or not!)

#my whump stories #whump #whump polls #guard #spear #fantasy whump #medieval whump #whump cyoa #cyoa #choose your own adventure