#After that the 'creepy whumper' aspect is really going to start rolling

[whumpersdump]

Project Rebirth - CH4: Final Touches

Content! From Whumper’s POV. (They’ll get a title soon btw, I just haven’t decided on a name yet).

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TW: (None of these are graphic) Restraints / blink-and-you-miss it use of  “it” as a pronoun / dehuminization / non-con surgery (non-graphic, whumpee isn’t awake) / lab whump / pet whump / sedation / sensory deprivation (not from Whumpee’s POV) / brain-fiddling? (he talks of an implant that restricts basically everything from speaking to moving. It’s mentioned, not shown)

Everything is set for the first practical stage of Project Rebirth to begin. All that is need is some final surgical attention, and a last talk to Whumper’s new investors. Also no editing we die like Toby’s previous owner...

Whumper sat next to Subject One, like he had every moment of spare time in the past five days. The last two, they barely twitched a muscle. Of course this was in part because of the starvation, but it was nice to have achieved nonetheless. Even if would wear of. Their body may be still, but the occasional twitch, hitch of a breath, told him their mind was racing.

He already picked out a name for them. Their masterpiece, even if it would take nine months before he would see their frantic eyes again. Everything was prepared. Their nursery—which was a rather misleading name, but it fit the process, and the marketing—was almost done, the housing facility would be complete in three months.

Subject One was the only one who really needed to be in the container for the sake of the time that it would give Whumper, but the aspect fit the aesthetic his investors expected. It would be what kept the program running for decades to come.

Subject One shuddered. They’d gotten the message. He’d chosen one of his newly acquired sponsors to deliver it through the earpieces. Not because it needed to be. He could just as easily move, then sedate the subject. Make the chaos in their mind spike just before they’d awake in ominous calm. Comforting calm, though it would take a while for the subject to feel about in that way. They had nine months, it would be enough.

The sponsors needed to feel special anyway. Some of them could make perfect pets, the way they seemed to crave special attention. He could try it someday. With this Project, even they could be reborn.

He nodded at Toby. “Bring them to the surgeon. It’s time for stage 3.”

Toby exited the corner he’d been standing in for the past day. It was a test, to see how obedient he really was. So far, Whumper had been pleased. Sure, seeing pets shiver at the thought of accidentally moving a muscle without permission could be rewarding, but it didn’t bring the type of productivity he needed. Toby’s compliant personality, in combination with Whumper’s training, did.

Toby reached for the subject’s shoulder like he always did.

“Not anymore, Toby,” Whumper commanded. “No more touching of any kind. You can move them, tube and all.”

Toby obeyed. With precision, he took the hand truck out of place and rolled it over to the doors that opened to the medical wing. Subject One would feel this, but it wasn’t enough to skew the results. If anything, it could amplify the result he was looking for.

He followed behind Toby, but entered the door to the watching room instead of the OR like Toby did. That’s where his funding was waiting. He hated having to care about it, but money was simply necessary for him to scale up the Project. “Thank you for coming back,” he told the seven investors waiting for him. “As I’ve said before, most of the program is completely tailored to your pet and the pet you wish they become. That means, no program looks or feels the same. This part though, they all have in common.”

He guided their gazes down to the OR—where the surgeon had sedated the subject—and begun the procedure. Toby watched from his corner, as Whumper had told him to. This would be the only time he was allowed this close to a subject before Rebirth, so Whumper made sure he knew as much as possible. The pet didn’t lie. He used to, but his previous owner trained it out of him.

If he were to fulfill any purpose at all in the future, he would have to learn to. Knowing about the stages before meeting the Reborn subjects was a good way to teach them. After all, he’d be the one to truly push the subject’s minds over the edge.

The investors patiently waited for Whumper to explain what was happening. “The implant all subjects receive is what makes this project so realistic. Like a newborn child, they have to learn everything. Eating, speaking, resisting, if you want them to. All in an effort to recreate them into the pet they were always meant to be. Now of course, some of them have skills we do want them to keep. Take Toby down there, he’s a master on the piano. For each pet, the implant’s functions can be customized.”

One of the investors raised her hand. “What are your plans for this one then?” she asked. “Does it have anything worth keeping?”

Whumper smiled. “In a less dire situation, we might have chosen to keep certain parts of them, but as you’ve noticed this is not the average pet we’re talking about. They will be reborn a blank slate. The only thing any pets are allowed to keep is their understanding of language—so they can obey commands, and their ability form minimal amounts of coherent thought and memory. We’ve found that this process works best if to some extent, the pets are aware of the changes. A risk, I know, especially with this one, but it will prove efficient.”

He straightened his tie. “This one in particular has quite the mouth, and they tend to use a bit too much of what they hear against their trainers. For that reason, we’ve limited their access to their vocabulary a bit more than usual. They’ll be able to understand simple sentences, but we won’t have to worry about their natural perceptiveness.”

“What’s he doing to their eyes?” a second investor asked.

Whumper’s heart fluttered. He’d hoped they’d ask. “Those, are highly sophisticated remote-controlled lenses.” They weren’t necessary, they function was mostly aesthetical from the subject’s perspective. They helped make it all a bit more realistic on both sides, though.

“They don’t have to be removed, ever. Which is why we’re putting them in so early. They control the subject’s ability to see color, and light. Like them implant, we can control them from behind the scenes. They aren’t vital, but they smooth out the transition from the Rebirth into the following stages of the program.”

He glanced down into the OR, where the surgeon was finishing up, and the other staff had begun to prepare the subject for stage 4’s container. “I’m afraid that I can’t show you anymore at this point, so my staff can take on this challenge with as little distraction as possible. However I’m happy to answer as many of your questions as I can.”

Several hands shot up. Whumper smiled.

“What are they doing?” Was the first question.

Whumper gazed down. Four people were removing the restraints and the jacket, and outfitted the subject in the thin white suit that would help keep them healthy and alive throughout the following stage.

They connected the dozens of tubes and wires that would take care of everything they couldn’t handle from outside the container, as he called it. “I’m afraid this is another one of those trade secrets, but what I can tell you is that in spite of how it looks, this will make the pre-Birth stage as realistic as it can be.”

“What about these nurseries that your people kept going on about. I’m sure they’re important, but it all sounds a bit too… human for my taste. I prefer my pets are used to the necessary restraints and housing conditions, so to speak.”

Whumper nodded. He wasn’t surprised to hear this investor thought his standard approach too kind. She’d demanded her pets were kept muzzled and bound at the facility’s daycare, even though they were among the most compliant creatures he’d ever seen.

“As I said,” he answered. “Everything can be customized. This subject I believe, will gain more from approach that teaches them that as a placeable pet, they will be cared for as long they don’t resist. Should you trust us with your pets though, if we decide after the evaluation that another approach may achieve the desired results more efficiently, we’re prepared. We have nurseries of all kinds, and our staff is prepared to fulfill any role they need to play.”

That seemed to please them. Whumper turned to the last question.

“How long does this program take?”

“We have multiple options. The standard program Subject One will go through can take up to sixteen years starting at the Rebirth, with a minimum time of three years. Now of course, that is a long time for a pet to be away. We have two accelerated programs that last either a few months, or even just a few weeks. You’re free to choose, but after the evaluation we will provide you with a suggestion. Not all pets need the full experience. Especially if they’re not old enough to be placed, a longer program can harm the natural development.”

A frown formed on a few faces.

“I can see you’re worried about the results I’ve promised you. You won’t have to wait long. The program may be an intense procedure, but the results will start to show after just a few weeks. The rest of the Project is about making them last, so these—” He dangled the subject’s bright red collar in front of them— “will soon be no more than a reminder of what I’ve solved.”

Whumper clasped his hands. The subject was moved out of the OR, into the container hall. “I must go now. My assistant will be up shortly to escort you out. I should mention Toby’s not allowed to be too talkative around strangers, but he’s still learning. If he breaks any rules, please contact me. He doesn’t respond well to strangers punishing him, he’s a bit too loyal for that.”

Taglist (asks are open if you wanna be added or removed): @suspicious-whumping-egg

[haro-whumps]

Box Boy Televised

(CW: brainwashing, dehumanization, creepy + intimate whumper, implied dubcon, fade-to-black dubcon, slavery, possessive behaviors)

Tag list: @thatsthewhump @whump-it @ashintheairlikesnow @fairybean101 @finder-of-rings @comfortforthepain @shameless-whumper @that-one-thespian @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @raigash @im-not-rare-im-rarr @spiffythespook @whumps-the-word @frnkieroismydaddy @whumpity--whump--whump @michelleswhumpyreblogs @jo-castle @newandfiguringitout @lumpofwhump

Masterlist

Not feeling like doing their regular song and dance, Ren continued, “And not a sir, either, I’m non-binary, I use they/them pronouns.” It was funny, usually, to see people flounder and squirm as they tried to correct themselves, so well mannered and well intentioned, and it was always fun to be able to say “third time’s the charm” with a darling smile that put them on everyone’s good side, but Ren had been drugged, robbed, and had to deal with the police’s bumbling, moronic efforts over the course of a single morning, and they weren’t up to it at the moment. 

“My bad! Roll it back, let’s try this again,” the newscaster said, gesturing to her companion, and then she approached them again, striding confidently, saying, “Excuse me, excuse me! As the owner of the stolen pet in question, can you tell us what happened?”

Ren did not smirk, keeping their face (beautifully) haggard and artfully dishevelled. “I was assaulted and drugged in the middle of the night by these home invaders,” Ren started, gesturing at the flashing lights of the police cars. “When I came to, they had stolen my pet,” they jerked a hand at Soren, who was trembling up against their chest. “Fortunately, I have surveillance cameras throughout my home, and quite naturally handed over all the information I could to the police.”

They had, of course, recognized their old “friends” the moment they’d looked at the footage. Just like they’d known, just as fast, that the idiot brigade had brought Soren back to this old shithole. Tyler never shut up about how cool his uncle’s nutcase bunker was, all throughout school, why would they ever assume he’d changed his tune? Idiots. Though, they did have to admit, they were hurt to see Lydia as part of the group. Just the other day, the two had been texting about a recent movie they’d both seen, laughing and debating the overarching themes. To see that she would now do this… Ren was furious.

“I can only assume my home and pet were the thieves’ targets due to a recent ad campaign, with my box boy on the front cover. Why else would this have happened? I admit, I had been supportive of pet rescue groups before; obviously not everyone treats their pets well and there should be humane laws enacted and enforced, but mine? Really? The actual literal poster boy for a pampered and well taken care of pet?”

Ren scoffed and the newscaster nodded along, prompting them forward, clearly excited to be getting this. Ren knew their old friends weren’t activists, but any other owner would assume as much, and this would be a nice little warning to any actual liberation groups. Hands off their property. “It’s shaken my faith in them entirely. I mean really, what did they even think they were liberating my pet from? I’m certainly no threat to him!” 

“Th-they,” Soren started, startling the newscaster for only the briefest moment before she extended her microphone to him, smiling at him like she might smile at a child. “The um, thieves, they, hurt me,” Soren said, revealing yet another injury, one Ren hadn’t seen thanks to his beautiful hair. He pulled back the golden curtain and they got to see a circle of red, blood sticking some of the hair to Soren’s poor temple, and another surge of anger flared. “M-my owner has, never hurt me, a-and, they, did.”

Ren needed to reward Soren. So brave, so useful.

“Oh, angel,” Ren murmured, petting along the underside of the wound, while the newscaster turned to the camera, microphone to her own chin, and made some sort of quip. “Don’t worry, angel, I’m here, we’re heading home soon.” 

“Thank you, thank you Exalted,” Soren murmured, leaning into them, trembling and needy and in all aspects, just like Ren liked him, except he’d been taken from them and injured by filthy, disgusting hands that were not Ren’s. Nevermind that Ren had once felt fondly towards almost all of those people, nevermind that Ren had considered them to be theirs much the same as they had once considered Soren. Soren was different now. Soren was brainwashed and needy and perfect. And he took priority over those traitors.

Ren dealt with the police. Ren dealt with the flashing lights and stupid, idiotic paperwork that they could have just sent to their lawyer. Ren finally, finally got Soren into their car, tutting at him and helping him buckle when his shaking hands struggled with the unfamiliar clasp. Unfamiliar, because as far as he was concerned, he’d never actually been in a car, before. Because he was fumbling, new, foalish, and reliant on Ren. The reminder of how much he needed them pacified them, a bit. Enough. 

When they left the stupid little woodland area Tyler’s family kept so dogmatically “natural,” they glanced in their rear view mirror and saw a particularly delicious sight.

Soren’s mother hadn’t gotten a different pickup truck since fucking high school. It was a very, very beat up old junker, rattling and wheezing and jerking with every mile, the AC broken and radio stuck on a single station. Fuckoff ugly brown. She’d separated from her husband back in Ren’s youth, though if the two had gotten back together, Ren didn’t know. He was there with her now, though, getting out of her car as she stood, driver’s side open, worried lip between her teeth as she stared into the wooded area, at the procession of police cars leaving, Ren’s own car gone unnoticed in the exeunt.

She would never see her son again, outside of advertisements and news reports. Neither would Soren’s father. He was Ren’s now, and the whole world had better just get used to that. Soren had already accepted it, Ren thought, lifting their hand to stroke his golden hair at a red light. Soren knew his place, now. Soren accepted that he was owned, like he had always deserved to be. 

Once inside, Ren took Soren directly to their bedroom, Soren limping on his scabbed heels but eagerly keeping up. They tore off his ruined nightgown--it would never serve as anything other than a reminder of last night--and pushed him down onto the bed.

“You never wanted to go with them,” Ren said,taking off their own sweater.

“I-I didn’t!” Soren insisted, looking nervous again. Good.

“You wanted to come back here, you wanted me to find you and bring you home.”

“More than anything! Yes, Exalted, more than anything else! I never wanted to be stolen!”

Ren shoved him down into the mattress, hard. “Prove it,” Ren ordered, and kissed him rough. Soren kissed back, desperate, shivering, scared and probably tired and still so, so eager, so needy, just like Ren had ordered, just like Soren was meant to be.

“You’re mine,” Ren hissed as they flipped the two of them, pulling Soren into their lap.

“Yours!”

“You belong to me,” Ren stated, handing Soren the lube.

“I do! I don’t belong to anyone else.”

“You think only of me, you want only for me, you desire nothing and no one but me.”

“Yes, Exalted, yes, you’re right, I do, I only want you, I was so scared, I wanted to be here, please, my Exalted, my god, I love you, I want to worship only you, please!”

“Good boy,” Ren murmured, petting at his soft skin. “Take your comfort in me, pet. Take comfort in my body.”

Soren rode them, just like a sweet, darling whore, noisy and whimpering and trembling with fear and relief and need and want all the while. He really did show how much he needed them, how much he wanted to please Ren at the exclusion of all else.

After, they cradled him in their arms, just like he deserved. He’d earned it. “Oh darling, you’ve had such a hard night, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Soren whispered,  nuzzling in closer to their chest. They pet his head and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“It’s all alright now,” Ren murmured. “It’s all alright; you’re here again, you’re safe now.”

“Exalted?” Soren asked, voice gone high and pleading. Ren arched their eyebrows. “May I sleep here, in your room?”

“For tonight, pet,” Ren allowed. Soren looked distressed. “Darling, angel, sweetheart, you can’t sleep in my bed every night. I don’t sleep well with other people in the room. Staying in here is a treat, or a special comfort: only for rare occasions.” 

Soren nodded, looking miserable, and Ren smiled at their pet. “Darling, I cannot stand to see you so,” they murmured, face appropriately sympathetic when Soren’s gaze jerked up to their face. “How about this? I’ll get online today and order some nice cuffs, and at night I’ll chain you to your bed?” They were brilliant, that was a great idea. And Soren would see it like the gift it was, not as Ren being even more possessive than they already were. Haha!

“Oh, yes, yes Exalted, please!” Soren gasped, pressing up into them.

“I’ll get it fingerprinted so that the locks can’t be picked like your stupid door’s.” Though in truth, they’d spent part of the morning considering changing that door out for one that opened to thumprinting. And the balcony doors. “Oh, but, if you need to use the bathroom in the middle of the night…” they realized aloud, less pleased.

“I’ll hold it, I can hold it, I don’t use the bathroom at night anyway, Exalted, please, please chain me to the bed!”

Ren snorted and caressed his face. “Eager pet. Very well, if it will help soothe your delicate nerves.” Ren kissed him. “We could key it to your thumbprints, too. No one trying to steal you would ever guess I’d let you unlock your own cuffs, and you’d never tell them.” Ren gripped him tightly by the hair. “Right, angel?”

“Never,” Soren rushed, “never, never, never Exalted, I don’t want to be taken again!”

“That’s right,” Ren murmured, stroking their fingers through that hair and kissing him again, all soft and easy. “That’s my precious boy.” Ren hummed, thinking. “We’ll get silk lining for the cuffs, to protect your skin. Lengthy chain so you can still shift in your sleep and your arms won’t be above your head. Nothing bulky enough to bruise you if you accidentally roll on top of it.”

“Th-thank you, Exalted, you always take such good care of me.”

Ren kissed his forehead. “That’s right; I do. Now go ahead and rest, sweetheart, you’ve earned the day off.”

And they had the pleasure of watching Soren sink into the soft mattress of Ren’s bed, cushy duvet pulled up over him, sweet and soft and freshly fucked, and fall asleep. They stroked his hair idly, then pulled out their laptop, ordering the custom chains and a new home-security system. 

And would you look at that. They were on the news.

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