#forced to perform

[abhainnwhump]

Whump Contracts

They're verstitle.

(Content warnings: Workplace abuse, pet whump, manipulation, possession, slavery, victim blaming, financial abuse?)

Demon Whumper forcing Whumpee into a contract to possess their body.

Whumpee is signing up for an acting role and they're over the moon about it. The problem? They look at the contract they have to sign for it. Whumper wants them for a little more than acting.

Whumpee signing themselves into being a slave/pet because of their self-hatred.

Whumpee unwillingly signing themselves into being a slave/pet.

Whumpee can't read, so they rely on Whumper to explain what is on it. They lie.

That fantasy trope where someone snaps their fingers and the paper and quill appear out of thin air. - Bonus points if it's out of fire or there's some ghost chanting as Whumpee signs it.

Whumper using the contract as a defense in case the authorities/Caretaker find them.

"You should've read the fine print."

Whumpee actually reading the fine print.

Caretaker signing papers to adopt legally be Whumpee's caretaker.

[whumpshaped]

siren whumpee being forced to sing and look pretty as party entertainment

-🎉

tw nonhuman whumpee (siren), forced to perform, dehumanisation, captivity, murder fantasies (drowning specifically)

Humans had changed. They had evolved. Over the years, they had found ways to go around the simple magic of sirens, to dull the destructive, lethal pull of their song to something pleasant and manageable. Something enjoyable that was worth paying money to hear.

Whumpee saw them exchange the money; because of course it wasn't going to their nonexistent pockets, it was going to their owner, the cruel fisherman who had pulled them out of the sea on that fateful night. They'd thought he was under the control of their spell, and by the time they realised how wrong they were, it was too late.

It had been years since that encounter. Years spent in a tank too small, with water that was too dirty. Years spent being paraded around and gawked at by humans, shown off, tortured whenever they'd tried to resist.

"You're mine," Whumper had said over and over again. "And you'll sing when I tell you to."

Whumpee had cursed him in their native language, the one the human didn't care to understand or learn. They'd tried pulling him into the tank to drown him, all to no avail. There were always other humans around, willing to help their friend over some disgusting beast.

So they sang. They sang for their owner, and they sang for the drunken idiots who had gathered around the tank, and they watched their faces change and relax, scowls morphing into serene smiles. How ironic it was, to bring about peace they'd never be able to share in.

"You're doing great, love," Whumper said as he walked by. "Very successful evening. I might even get you one of those fish treats if you keep it up."

Whumpee didn't respond, so Whumper just scoffed and disappeared into the crowd. One day. One day they'd get out. One day their magic would be powerful enough to override whatever pills and devices the humans had used to suppress it.

One day, they'd hold Whumper under the water until all the air and life left his body, and then they'd devour him whole.

~

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em @cyborg0109 @morning-star-whump @justanotherlokifan @2in1whump @lthrboy @justletmereadmywhump @florissimps @anonymous-tiangou @whump-kitty

[favouritefearlesswhumper]

Forced to watch with Team Leader

Idk there's something so good about a team watching their beloved, kind, smart, strong Leader suddenly falling to pieces in front of them.

It's not like they don't have more than a few scars of their own. But they've never known torture like this.

Tearfullt trying to reassure their team that they're fine, they're okay, honest-

Until they're very much not.

Blood dripping down their skin, limbs battered and bruised, broken bones, black eyes-

Worst of all, was the screams.

They tried to keep it in, they really really did. They didn't want to worry and scare their beloved team any more than they knew they already would be-

But it hurt so much.

It hurt so, so much.

And it's only the beginning.

[dont-touch-my-soup]

Last Goodbye

Previous   || Masterlist ||  Next      

CW: captivity, torture, manhandling, drugging, whipping, forced to perform, forced to watch, forced to hurt, forced to self-harm, amputation, hand whump, blood, gore, violence, multiple whumpees, self-hate

A hand forced Kell’s head up. He flinched back but it didn’t hurt. Not this time. 

Seconds passed by and Kell’s skin itched under Oryn’s eyes. The blindfold kept him from seeing anything but he could feel his scrutinising gaze on him.

Finally, he let go of Kell to even the fabric of Kell’s cloth and to fasten the buttons. Kell could hear his footfalls as he walked in a semicircle around him, inspecting his appearance one last time.

Every touch burned on Kell’s skin, but he forced himself to keep still.

The clothes were too tight, and the fabric tightened with every breath and rubbed painfully over his injured skin.

He didn’t understand why Oryn had wanted him to clean up when he’d be tortured to death tonight anyway. 

The thought was enough to make him nauseous.

It was better not to think about what was happening, but his thoughts were like dice and they just didn’t stop flying through his head.

He breathed slowly against the panic in his chest and again the clothes were suffocating him. Panic creeped up his throat and he tried to calm himself, tried to control his breathing but it was like the edge of a cliff was coming closer and closer and there was nothing he could do to stop himself.

Oryn touched his side and pulled at a loose thread. He didn’t seem to notice how Kell flinched under his touch and continued wiping non-existing dust off Kell’s clothes until Kell’s skin was raw and his mind was screaming.

The cool rim of a glass met his lips.

“Drink.”

A spike of fear rushed through Kell, but he didn’t have the strength to ask. He opened his mouth and the cold liquid poured into his mouth.

He swallowed. Too fast.

The liquid was bitter and cold and felt good against his burning throat.

“It will keep you from vomiting all over my stage,” Oryn explained. 

He patted Kell’s shoulder and turned away and Kell concentrated on his trembling legs. They didn’t feel like they belonged to his body anymore and it scared him how heavy and numb they’d become. The numbness creeped up into his arms and his heart until he felt like floating. 

“It’s time,” Oryn said finally.

Kell’s clothes were already soaked with sweat. He was trembling in the cold air. 

He swallowed. He still felt like throwing up. The only thing he could hear was his own ragged breathing.

“P-please …” His voice is hoarse already from screaming.

He was shaking so hard his teeth were chattering.

A hand started to push him forward, but Kell stemmed his feet against the floor. “Please don’t do this,” he begged, and a sob slipped from his lips. “Please don’t. I will do anything. I swear ...”

A hand over his mouth stopped the flood of words.

“None of that,” Oryn said, his voice low and gentle, his thumb stroking over Kell’s cheek. It did nothing to calm him down. “If you already beg now, you can’t step up the show later. And you still want to protect Sparrow, don’t you?”

The sudden terror was hot and sharp in his chest.

Kell nodded. 

“Well, if you want to protect him you better give me a show worth watching,” Oryn said, his voice like velvet. “Do you understand?”

Again, Kell nodded, tears silently streaming down his face. 

But as soon as Oryn’s hand let go, he was begging again. He’d lost control over his body and the words were there before he could even think about it.

A sudden stinging pain on his face silenced him.

Oryn sighed and without another warning he shoved him towards the stage. Kell stumbled, caught his balance a second later and hurried to move his legs even though everything in his body screamed otherwise. 

He heard the buzzing of the audience. His legs wobbled under him and as soon as Oryn let go of him, he collapsed to his knees with nothing to slow his fall. His stomach twisted inside him, and he counted his breaths to keep himself from panicking.

The buzz of the audience died down and Kell heard Oryn speaking. But the words seemed far away. 

He clenched his hands into fists, but his body was trembling so hard it ached.

He wished he could see the stars one last time. He wished he could see Sabea one last time. 

He would never hear her voice again. He would never see her face again. He would never get the chance to apologise or hug her.

Would she know? Would she feel it when he died?

I am sorry, Sabea. I am so sorry.

He could barely breathe as grief formed a huge burning knot in his stomach.

He took a deep breath and counted his heartbeats on his exhale.

The murmur of the audience grew louder as fear took over Kell’s mind. He could hear a voice betting on how long he’d make it and nausea washed over him.

His gut turned into a bottomless pit, and he was falling falling falling. A sob creeped up his throat. He pressed his eyes shut and held his breath in a desperate attempt to keep it back.

He was still shaking as the sob finally slipped from his lips. The choked sound was almost painful in his ears and he could feel his control sliding away.

Then there was a hand on his thigh. “Good to see you’re still in one piece,” a voice croaked right next to him.

Kell froze. The voice was so strained and hoarse Kell barely recognised it.

“Thrasher,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Thrasher hummed in affirmation. “Listen,” he said and Kell could hear the suppressed pain in his voice. “Don’t do anything he says. Promise me you …”

He was interrupted by a sick wet smack. Then he was screaming. 

Kell’s stomach turned.

Thrasher’s scream turned into a half-hysterical laugh. “You really should have cut my tongue out if you don’t want me to talk,” he said, followed by several Tharlian curses and Kell could tell it took him all his strength to speak aloud. 

“Don’t tempt me,” Oryn said. His voice was colder than ever.

Again, Kell heard something fly through the air and landed with a sick wet smack. Then a third. 

Thrasher wasn’t laughing anymore.

“Stop it,” Kell screamed. “Please,” he added more softly.

Oryn’s dry laughter reached his ears. “I see you are eager to entertain our audience. Don’t worry, we’ll get to you in a minute.”

Steps came closer. Kell crouched his body to his legs, but hands grabbed his arms, rubbing over the countless burns. He screamed as he was yanked up again. Then the blindfold was ripped from his face and Kell blinked into the sudden brightness, squirming his eyes. 

He heard Oryn’s voice but again he couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. The buzzing in his ears drained out every other noise.

There were people in the theatre. It shouldn’t be surprising. He had already heard them. He had known they would be here. Still, it was terrifying, and his mind couldn’t grasp the fact they came here to see them getting hurt. To see them die. 

Then he heard a pained moan on his left. “Promise me … ” Thrasher panted.

He looked nothing like the man Kell knew. His features so contorted with pain Kell barely recognized him. His skin was layered in bruises, dark shadows under his eyes and his nose looked like it was broken multiple times. Scrapes and cuts crisscrossed over his body. Some deeper than others.

His palm was pressed to the floor and covered in blood.

The metallic scent was suddenly the only thing Kell could smell. It was so thick and heavy Kell’s stomach twisted painfully.

Kell wondered how long he’d already been here.

Then Oryn came into his view.

He was talking to him, but Kell didn’t understand a word over the buzzing in his ears. When he lifted the knife, Kell hastily moved to back away from him and fell hard to the ground.

Without rushing Oryn stepped closer.

Kell closed his eyes. He knew it wouldn't protect him. Nothing could protect him. 

He held his breath just as he felt a yank against his wrists. The rough rope vanished and Kell’s hands started to prickle.

He looked up in confusion as the knife was pressed into his shaking hands.

For a second Kell stared at the knife. 

Why would they give him a knife? He could attack them and run … 

He wouldn’t get far. 

“Take the hilt in your hand,” Oryn said, irritated and Kell’s fingers were forcefully wrapped around the hilt. 

“The rules are easy,” Oryn said, and his voice boomed through the room. “Cut off one of your fingers or I will cut off one of his fingers.” He paused before he added: “I even let you choose which one.”

Kell stared at him in horror. 

“I-I … no!”

“It is your decision,” Oryn said softly.

Kell gripped the knife tighter. His hands were sweating so much, it was hard to keep a hold on it. 

He was shaking violently. He couldn’t see anything through his tears.

Cut off his own finger. 

He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t.

He would never be able to play piano.

You will die anyway. It doesn’t matter.

It would hurt so much. There would be so much blood. 

Kell’s lungs were full of ice. He couldn’t breathe.

His eyes flickered to Thrasher lying on the floor, one hand still pressed flat against the wood tiles.

“Don’t.”

Without even looking at him, Oryn kicked his foot into his side and Thrasher screamed in anguish. He curled into a ball, but his hand still remained on the floor.

It was only then that Kell realised he couldn’t move it even if he tried to. It was nailed to the floor. He had no way to free himself.

“Y-you … you …” he trembled so hard he could barely form a word.

It took him several tries until he managed to sit up.

The only thing Kell heard was his own heartbeat. He tries not to look at the blood. It was too bright. Too red.

He took a deep breath and pressed his hand on the floor. If he pressed hard enough it almost didn’t shake anymore. 

Then he placed the knife over his index finger. 

The blade shimmered white in the bright light. His hands trembled so badly he could barely hold the knife. He tightened his grip around it. The touch of the blade felt cold on his skin. He hoped the knife is sharp enough. His vision became fuzzy around the edges. Seconds ticked over. His head was swimming. Finally the knife clinked to the floor.

“I … can’t,” he panted. “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t look at Thrasher. “I’m sorry.”

Oryn bent down next to him and picked it up. 

The terror on Thrasher’s face was so raw, Kell had to lower his gaze. Thrasher desperately tried to move away from Oryn. Fresh blood pooled around his hand and his breaths became shallower.

Oryn caught his wrist and slammed his other hand flat against the floor. Thrasher gasped and tried to wrench his hand out from under Oryn’s, but Oryn put the full weight on Thrasher’s body. A strangled sob escaped his throat and then Kell could hear a sound he would never forget.

Thrasher’s muscles tensed with an effort to make no sound. As soon as Oryn let go of him, he pressed his hand against his chest. Blood immediately soaked the beige fabric and Thrasher gasped for air.

Kell couldn’t stop staring at the severed finger. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. 

The room spun around him, and he heard Oryn’s voice but not what he was saying.

Then the knife was pushed into Kell’s hands again. 

Someone had cleaned it but there was still too much blood on it. The smell of it filled the whole room and Kell’s stomach was violently roiling inside of him. 

He looked up and his eyes met Thrashers. 

He shook his head a single time and Kell could tell how much strength it took him. “Don’t,” he breathed. 

Kell’s gaze snapped to Oryn who just smiled down at him. 

There was no way out of it. If he wouldn’t do it, Oryn would keep going until Thrasher had lost all of his fingers. But if Kell complied, he would still keep going. There was no winning. 

Kell looked down at the knife in his lap. His hands were cold and numb and sweaty and shaking. 

“Make a decision,” Oryn said again.

Kell clenched his fist around the hilt. 

“Three - two - one,” Oryn counted. When Kell still hadn’t moved he sighed and took a step in his direction. It wasn’t even a decision when Kell pressed the knife flat against his stomach and curled into a ball. He knew it wouldn’t help either of them. It would just infuriate Oryn. Still, he couldn’t help it.

A hand wrenched his arm up behind his back and gave it a violent twist. Kell screamed as Oryn wrenched the knife out of his hands. 

He caught his face into his hands and gave him a violent shake. “This is going to cost him an extra finger,” Oryn hissed. 

This time Thrasher was screaming. His scream was exhausted and hoarse, and it echoed inside of Kell’s head. Pleas came over his lips too fast and too slurred for Kell to understand.

The more he trashed against Oryn’s grip the more he tore open his other hand.

Then the knife was in Kell’s hands again.

Tears fell on his hands. He watched as a single tear landed on the blade and blood started to swirl. He looked up at Oryn.

“Please,” he whispered. He immediately regretted it as Oryn’s eyes grew hard. He made a step in Kell’s direction and Kell couldn’t take it anymore. “Please,” he begged. “Please, please, please …” 

He couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop repeating the same word over and over again but Oryn just pushed Thrasher’s hand to the floor again. He took his time placing the knife over the next finger and Kell’s voice got louder and louder with every second until it turned into a wordless scream.

Then Oryn cut off Thrasher’s fourth finger.

And then Kell was holding the cursed knife again.

“You know the drill.”

“Why do you do this?!” Kell screamed desperately.

Oryn didn’t answer. 

Thrasher’s eyes were closed, and his chest was rising and falling heavily.

There was so much blood. So much blood. 

“Please,” Kell begged again. “You are killing him.”

Oryn laughed. “He can take it. It’s not like I chopped off his whole hand.”

This would never be over. Oryn wouldn’t stop until both of them were dead. And there was nothing he could do. Nothing.

He stared at his own fingers. Pale scars marred the back of his hand. He hated them more than any other scar on his body. 

It didn’t matter anymore.

Nothing mattered. 

Kell set the knife on the base of his little finger and took a deep breath. A second later he saw the blood. But the pain only came later.

His head suddenly felt heavy, white spots dancing across his vision. He was going to pass out. 

His breathing turned shallow as pain consumed him. His own heartbeat raged through his body.

His body fell to the side, slamming hard onto the stage. He pressed his injured hand against his chest, unable to let go of the knife in his other. 

Hands harshly wrenched his hand away from his chest and pain jolted through Kell’s hand. He tried to yank his hand back, but Oryn was too strong. 

“Shhh.” His voice was nearly too low to hear it. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” 

Tears were running over Kell’s face as Oryn pressed a cloth against the fresh injury. 

He was breathing shallowly and too fast for the oxygen to reach his lungs. His head was swimming, and he couldn’t comprehend what was happening around him.

“Good. Now another.”

Kell cried harder and when he opened his mouth a sudden sob was breaking the silence. He wanted to scream; he hated Oryn with a sudden all-consuming fierceness. For a moment anger was all that was left pulsating through his veins. Burning almost painfully in the pit of his stomach. He looked at Oryn. He wanted to punch him, to kill him. 

He had always hated him. He had always wanted him to be gone. But he had never wanted to actually kill him. 

It didn’t matter how well he knew Thrasher or whether he liked him. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Oryn kept hurting them and he would never stop. He would keep hurting them, killing them, torturing them. 

Kell looked at the knife in his hand.

It took a few moments to find Oryn. Kell gripped the knife harder as their eyes met. Oryn's lips tug up and finally he smiled at him. It was a challenging smile.

Maybe he should just smash the knife in his own throat. Then it would be over. It was how this was going to end anyway. It would be the quickest, most painless solution.

But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t move the knife.

He knew Thrasher would do it. Thrasher would be brave enough. Or smart enough. Maybe just desperate enough. That was why Thrasher’s hands were still bound. That was why Kell was holding the knife and not Thrasher.

His eyes wandered to Thrasher. He was only a few steps away. If he ran, he could reach him and … Oryn walked into his line of sight and for a moment there was something in his eyes. Something like hesitation. But it vanished in a blink and Kell wasn’t even sure anymore what he had seen. 

They kept staring at each other and Kell was trying to catch his breath. His mind was swirling, his thoughts racing.

He didn’t want to beg anymore.

He took the knife in his left hand and threw it as far away as he could. He heard voices as Oryn went for the knife. Kell barely felt his legs. Then he toppled to the floor. Belatedly, he realised he had thrown himself in front of Thrasher.

He pulled him into his arms. Kell wiped at the blood and sweat and tears as Thrasher screamed again. “You’re … so stupid,” Thrasher rasped.

Tears fell Kell’s face. He was trembling. 

Then he felt a hand on his arm. Oryn. He was talking to him, but it took a while for Kell to catch on. 

“No,” he said, holding Thrasher tighter against him as if he could protect him with his body. 

“Don’t!” Kell begged.

Someone in the audience laughed.

He clapped his hands around Thrasher’s shoulder.

“P-please…” Thrasher strained his voice, just to get a word out. He sounded dehydrated, exhausted. “Just …” he whispered hoarsely, “take the fucking knife and k-kill me…”

Dread filled Kell as he realised he wasn’t holding the knife anymore. He could have ended this here and now.

He couldn't have done it. He knew it.

A hand wrapped around his wrist and Oryn tsked. “Silly boy.”

They kept staring at each other and Kell was trying to catch his breath. His mind was swirling, his thoughts racing.

Finally, he dipped his gaze. “Please,” he said, swallowing his anger. “Please. You just want entertainment. I promise I can entertain you better. I can sing. I can sing anything you want. Please. Just … please just let me try and … I p-promise!”

“No,” Thrasher’s eyes opened, and he struggled in Kell’s grip. “Don’t.”

But only when Oryn started to smile Kell knew he’d made a mistake.

Tears swelled in his eyes. Desperation in his chest. This was what Oryn wanted. That was the whole reason why they were both here. Just like when he’d brought Jinn. The knowledge tasted bitter on his tongue.

Oryn tilted his head. “Fine. Sing and maybe it’s good enough.”

They both knew it would never be enough. It would just delay the inevitable.

“Kell, don’t,” Thrasher rasped. His words were barely comprehensible.

“It’s going to be okay. I …”

“No, Kell. Don’t do it …” His voice sounded almost angry.

“Enough,” Oryn interrupted them. “Start singing now or he’ll lose his whole hand.”

Thrasher was too slow to hide the flash of panic in his eyes.

Kell sucked in the air. He was still breathless; his face was prickling from tears and salt and his body ached. He closed his eyes and tried to calm down his nerves. He had to sing better than he had ever sung before. He had to convince Oryn.

Kell took another deep breath.

At least Oryn didn’t want him to stand up this time. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to stand up.

It was uncomfortably quiet, but Kell still needed more time.

“Now, if you may,” Oryn said.

Kell nodded his head far too many times. Then he took one last breath and started to sing.

He didn’t open his eyes. He had to concentrate. He had to put everything he had into the song. He sang as if it could change the world. And perhaps he could.

When he finally finished, he forgot where he was for a moment.

It was quiet and he was exhausted. His body was aching.

Then he opened his eyes and looked right at Oryn. He looked pleased. A wave of relief rushed over Kell. He had done it. His singing had convinced him.

Then there was a choked sound from his side and Kell’s gaze snatched to Thrasher. He had opened his eyes. Looking straight at Kell. His eyes were big, and his mouth was open.

“You idiot,” Thrasher said, his voice raspy and quiet but it still carried his anger and disappointment.

He wasn’t sure when Thrasher had sat up. His eye was still swollen shut but the cut on his temple had closed.

Kell dropped his gaze to the rest of his body. The blood was still there but the cuts under the layer of blood had closed. Disbelieving Kell touched his chest, wiping away the blood. The skin had closed. All that was left were scars. 

“How …” Kell whispered. 

“You did this,” Thrasher spat, like he was accusing Kell of a murder. “You healed me, you fucking idiot.”

Thrasher’s gaze dropped from Kell’s face to his arms and back again.

His arms still hurt but they weren’t feeling like they were still on fire. Kell looked down. His skin was still bright red and hurt but the wounds had closed.

“What …” Kell started. He didn’t understand.

Kell looked to Thrasher, who was crying now.

He shook his head full of disappointment.

Hands grabbed Kell's arms.

"No!" Thrasher shouted. He pulled Kell closer to him. “My name is Jack,” he said with a sudden urgency in his voice, switching to Tharlian, a pained smile on his face. “Would you … please remember?”

Kell nodded.

In Thrasher’s – Jack’s eyes pooled tears. “I still don’t like you,” he said tunelessly, but his voice was too soft to carry any weight.

Then Kell was ripped away from Jack and he suddenly knew he would never see him again.

He screamed as he saw Oryn crouching down next to Jack, the knife in his hand, and he didn’t stop even as he was carried away. Tears flowed over his face once again and he struggled against the iron grip around his arms, clawed bloody lines down their arms as he fought to get free. He wasn’t strong enough.

A door closed and all resistance in Kell died.

He toppled to the floor and rolled to his side, weeping in hoarse, wracking sobs. Stings of hair stuck to his skin.

______________________________

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Thank you for reading! @whumpzone @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @whump-cravings @tears-and-lilies @imagination1reality0 @suspicious-whumping-egg @i-can-even-burn-salad @siren-of-agony @villainsvictim (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)    

[whump-blog]

Prompt 40

After a bloody battle with the enemy, A, a military officer, is wounded and transferred to another unit to receive treatment.

At the end of the day A is in a hospital bed waiting to be treated, when a guard leads a chained man to his side. At first, A doesn't understand what a prisoner is doing there, but he soon realizes that the prisoner is in fact his doctor.

"We are short of people," explains the guard "but don't worry, if anything should happen to you, sir, he knows that the same thing will happen to him".

Day after day the doctor comes to treat his wounds, but for every day that A remains ill, the prisoner is harshly punished for failing to heal him faster.

[callaeidae3]

A Month of Whump (@amonthofwhump ) - Day 12: The Nutcracker

Forced to perform | Animal attack | Forced transformation | Comfort: Favourite holiday movie

Nutcracker ballet AU dancer! Yuuki Takahashi, having to continue dancing while injured. He'd thought something seemed off about the Battle scene...but he'd dismissed it during the last rehearsal.

The Mouse King's sword...it wasn't supposed to be real, right?

[whumpookies]

AMOW Winter Whumperland 2022

The NutCracker

Prompt: forced to perform (more forcing self to perform)

Series: Aşk-ı Memnu bölüm 72 @amonthofwhump

That's a wrap for the 12 days of Christmas for Winter Whumperland 2022!!!

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

a cruel circus ringmaster and his captured merman, who he forces to perform like a trained seal and deprives of water to ensure his obedience. if he refuses to cooperate they take away his water that he needs to breathe so it's either comply or suffocate

[evilwriter37]

Winter Whumperland 2022 Day 12

Prompts: Forced to Perform | Forced Transformation

Rated: mature

Warnings: drugging, implied/referenced rape/noncon, blood, brief suicidal ideation

Pairings: minor Viggo/Hiccup

Word Count: 1,500

Summary: Hiccup is forced by Viggo to transform into his Lycanwing form in front of an audience.

A/N: Wow, almost a month late with this, but I finally got it done! I hope you guys enjoy! And thank you for your patience!

[iwritewhump]

whumperland day twelve: forced transformation

@amonthofwhump

warnings: overworked whumpee, (implied) captive whumpee

(named) characters: whumper, whumpee

100 words

~~ Whumper laughs, “Again!”

The rest of the party cheers in agreement and Whumpee bites back a sob. It takes a shuddering breath and transforms back into its “original” form.

“What would you like?” it asks, broken.

Someone shouts, “Do a peacock!”

Whumpee stares at Whumper, waiting for their nod of approval.

It closes its eyes and imagines the bird. Bright green and blue feathers, a long neck, clawed feet. It can feel itself changing, morphing into this animal for some crowd’s pleasure.

When the crowd gasps, it opens its eyes and bows, ignoring the blinding pain deep in its bones. 

[doyouevermakeasound]

Febuwhump Prompt Day 21: Shackled

CW: forced to perform, slavery, bow and arrow mention

They were one of the best warrior that even the universe had to offer yet they were stuck here listening to the whims of a petty little ruler who thought themselves as untouchable.  

The ruler gestured towards the center of the room amidst all of the guests.  “Show them your trick- the one with the bow.”  The stench of alcohol rolled off their tongue.

They nodded, forced to obey but waiting for the day they could break free and wreak their own havoc upon the world.  They summoned one of their fancier and ornate bows as they reached into a sparkling portal.  The mortals were easily impressed.

Light arrows were nocked, the crowd already impressed by the dazzling light display before they released them.  The cheers made them want to kill them all.

@febuwhump

[dont-touch-my-soup]

The Weight of Decisions

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CW: captivity, manhandling, torture, forced to perform

“I don’t know!” Kell screamed hoarsely. Sweat and tears burned on his skin. Every muscle ached and the fog in his mind hurt so much he wasn’t even sure his vision worked properly. “I swear! I don’t know”

Oryn sighed and started to turn around. For a second relief floated through Kell’s body. Then he realised what Oryn was about to do. He pushed himself up on weak arms just to see him rolling up Jinn’s sleeve with practised movements.

“No!” The shout felt like fire in his throat. “Please. I told you the truth! Don’t hurt him. Please.”

His arms shook under his weight. Oryn stared at him expressionless, and desperation dug its claws into Kell’s chest. “Just ask him then! Ask Thrasher! He knows.” His voice broke and he coughed. He had never felt so breathless but he was too desperate to stop trying. “Just ask him. I told you everything I know. I swear. Please don’t hurt him. I told you everything you wanted. Please.”

The words slurred together and were barely comprehensible. Still he didn’t stop until Oryn took a step back into his direction. Suddenly his arms gave up and Kell couldn’t held his weight anymore. He barely had the strength to turn his face as he toppled to the floor.

Pain rolled through his body in waves. White stars danced in his vision.

“What do you think?” Oryn asked as if he was asking about the weather. His voice so far away. “Is he telling the truth?”

If there was an answer Kell didn’t hear it and he was too exhausted to open his eyes.

“Well then. I think it’s time to say farewell to your friend, little Sparrow,” Oryn said.

***

Jinn’s head shot up.

“Wh-What do you …” Jinn started. “He just wanted to run away. You can’t kill him for trying to run away. Please. He- …”

Jinn’s heart sank and his gaze snapped to Kell. For the first time, Kell looked back at him. They stared at each other for a second and Jinn couldn’t suppress the shock on his face as he saw Kell’s arms. Countless burns littered his skin, some had formed blisters. Others looked like craters.

And Kell must see it in his eyes because he just turned away from him, turning his arms so Jinn could only see a fracture of the torture Oryn had put him under.

“He broke the rules,” Oryn interrupted him. “There are consequences for that.”

“B-But …” Jinn said toneless, scrambling for words. Kell had just tried to run away. Oryn couldn’t really intend to kill him for that.

Jinn swallowed hard against the lump at his throat. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t think.

It was hard to think when everything smelled of heavy perfume and burned oil. His head started to throb.

“But … I-I can’t replace him,” Jinn said finally. His voice desperate and shrill even in his own ears. He forced himself to look at Oryn. He had to convince him. He had to convince him to let Kell live. The whole time Kell had done everything he could to ensure Jinn’s safety. This time he had to save him. 

“Even now he would sing better than I ever could.”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, he wanted to take them back. He wasn’t sure what Oryn knew, but he was pretty sure he was about to make things worse for Kell than they already were.

I am so sorry, he thought.

Oryn turned around to look at him. “You want him to sing?” Oryn asked, amusement in his voice.

Jinn nodded hesitantly. He was still trying to measure the consequences his words could have.

“Have you heard his voice?” Oryn asked. “He’s already screamed himself hoarse. I don’t think he will be able to sing.”

“Just let him try. Please,” Jinn whispered, his hands shaking so hard, he had to press them against his stomach. “

Oryn tilted his head and measured Jinn. A wave of nausea washed over him. His knees were trembling under Oryn’s heavy eyes and just when Jinn thought Oryn would refuse his eyes narrowed. “He can sing. But if he fails you both will be very sorry. Do you understand?”

Jinn nodded. He already regretted every single word but right now all he could think about was Kell’s survival.

“You still want him to sing?” Oryn asked.

Jinn nodded again.

Oryn had already jumped onto the stage and grabbed Kell’s arms. “Get up.”

Kell cried out as soon as Oryn touched his arms. but Oryn didn’t let go. He mercilessly pulled him to his feet.

Kell’s legs shook under his weight, as if he hadn’t used them for a long time. When he fell Oryn didn’t catch him. He only hissed at him. “Don’t test my patience.”

Jinn flinched at the sound. A wave of guilt washed over him.

Kell pressed his arms to the ground. They were wobbling under his weight. It took him some effort to raise himself to his feet again. When he finally stood, Jinn could see the tears on his face. He swallowed hard. This was all his fault.

“What do you want me to sing?” he asked Oryn, and he sounded so defeated Jinn wondered if he had already lost him.

***

Kell didn’t look at Jinn when he started to sing. He couldn’t. After everything that had happened, Jinn still tried to protect him.

Even though Kell had hurt him so many times. Even though Oryn had made him believe Kell had abandoned him at the theatre.

His stomach was a knot of contradicting emotions and he didn’t have time to unravel them all. Fear and guilt where a combination Kell knew well enough. But now there was also embarrassment mingled into the heavy knot in his chest.

He wished Jinn hadn’t seen him like this. He couldn’t forget the look on his face when he’d told Oryn all the things, he had sworn he wouldn’t.

Depending on the song emotions helped with singing. But sometimes they messed with your brain and the thoughts kept dashing through the mind like angry bees.

And so Kell closed his eyes and did what his teacher had told him so many years ago.

He took a deep breath. It was okay to feel like this. In the end he just wanted them both to be safe. They were both doing the best they could to protect each other. And no matter what was going to happen Kell was grateful for everything Jinn had done for him. He knew how scared he was of Oryn. He knew Jinn would rather run and hide. Standing his ground was not something Jinn did naturally. But he stood his ground for Kell.

***

Jinn had never been in the audience of a theatre hall. Especially not in the first row. He wished his first time wouldn’t have been in Oryn’s torture theatre with Oryn himself right next to him.

Now there was nothing he could do anymore but wait and hope. He still wasn’t sure his plan would work out. It had been a crazy idea, cobbled together in the face of fear. But Oryn was not someone you could outsmart. Oryn was someone who knew what everyone around him was about to do before they even knew it themselves.

Jinn winced as Kell started to sing. His first words were barely audible and so hoarse, he was scared the song would fully take away his voice.

But the longer Kell sang, the stronger his voice grew.

Jinn’s heart started to race again. He stared at the burns on Kell’s arms, but they didn’t seem to change. Jinn pressed his hands into fists as Kell’s singing grew stronger.

He desperately wanted to look at Oryn to see if he’d noticed it too. But he forced himself to keep his gaze on Kell.

Kell’s eyes were closed, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration. He was swaying softly and Jinn wasn’t sure if it was because of the song or because of the torture.

When the song drew to a close Kell’s voice sounded nearly normal again. It was weaker than usual and a little breathless but as normal as it could be.

Jinn peered at Oryn, but his face was indifferent. Jinn prayed Oryn would not understand what it meant. But he knew he was deluding himself. Oryn wasn’t stupid. He must have noticed Kell’s magic by now.

***

When Kell finished his song, he was breathing heavily. But he finally felt steady on his legs again and the weird tingling in his limbs had stopped.

He looked down to Oryn, not sure what to do or say now.

Oryn slowly got up without giving up his thoughts. Neither Kell nor Jinn tried so much as move.

Oryn waved his hand at Jinn. “You may leave, Sparrow.”

Jinn’s head shot up and for a moment their eyes met. Kell wasn’t prepared for the guilt he found there. And suddenly he felt like he’d missed something important. He’d never felt so cold.

***

I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry.

Jinn wanted to say something. He wanted so badly to just do something.

But he knew it wouldn’t make a difference anymore.

He looked at Kell. He wanted to tell him how much he loved him. How thankful he was for everything he had done for him. But the words sounded hollow and meaningless in his head.

He tried to will him to look at him. But Kell kept staring to the ground.

His apathy scared Jinn.

And in the end, he did nothing.

In the end he was a coward like he had always been.

______________________________

Thank you for reading! @whumpzone @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @whump-cravings @tears-and-lilies @imagination1reality0 @suspicious-whumping-egg @i-can-even-burn-salad @siren-of-agony @villainsvictim (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)    

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[firealder2005]

AMOW: Winter Wumperland 2022 Day. 12 Forced to Perform~Animal Attack~Forced Transformation

Featuring............COUSIN BONDING TIME!!! 

What cousins, you ask? Why, it’s Luke Skywalker, Ryoo Naberrie, & Pooja Naberrie all on a mission to an old Sith planet to look for a base.

Easy peasy right? WRONG!

This is going to be a multichap since I realized I’m just having way too much fun writing the cousins and I was already 5 pages in before they even stepped foot on plant lol.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43545942/chapters/109486980

Enjoy!

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Ryoo Naberrie, when she was younger, had dreamed of being an artist, or a historian. She had loved creating art and learning about it - and over time, had formed the desire to preserve as much of it as possible.

Maybe back when she was a small child, it wouldn’t have been such a hard job. After all, Naboo was famous for its love of art, beauty, and charm.

However, everything changed with the formation of the Empire, and their accompanying censorships.

It cracked down on any and all information about the Jedi Naboo held. Confiscated parts of their history involving revolts, unfair taxation, and even locked up the majority of information on Ryoo’s own aunt - the kind, beautiful, passionate Padme Amidala.

That had been the final straw for Ryoo Naberrie.

So she called one of her aunt’s old handmaidens, Sabe, and she was able to get her in contact with Leia Organa, Senator of Alderaan - a longtime ally of Naboo.

The two of them had worked out a way to allow Ryoo to get the Rebellion inside information in the Imperial network that they had hidden - and that had required Ryoo learning how to hack, code, and cover her tracks in the holonet.

She had to say, she rather enjoyed the work.

Plus, she got to dig around in the censored part of the holonet. Even if she couldn’t bring all that she had learned into the open (yet), it was still an exhilarating learning experience.

Until she got caught.

Thankfully, Ryoo’s defection hadn’t been detected until after the Imperial Senate had been dissolved, so Pooja, her sister, hadn’t suffered any backlash from the uppity upper class of the Empire.

But unfortunately, Ryoo’s attempted arrest and bounty had put a target on her whole family’s backs, and Pooja had been forced to go on the run with her while their mother, father, and grandparents were all put under house arrest.

It had been just her and Pooja, until Leia, now a wanted Rebel, extended a formal invitation to join the Rebellion - physically.

And, well, they had nothing else going for them at the moment.

Plus, it would be nice to be able to take a shot at the Empire.

And she could provide the Rebellion propaganda team with the many secret Imperial gossip she had found…

And that’s how Ryoo found herself where she was now. On a mission with Pooja, and Luke Skywalker, Death Star pilot, Jedi-in-training, former commander of Rogue (now Red) Squadron.

And son of Uncle Anakin.

When Ryoo had first heard of Luke, she had immediately gotten whiplash. And then anger set in.

The less said about what she did afterwards, the better. Not her finest moment, to say the least.

But Ryoo also knew Luke as the son of her aunt.

Of Padme.

He was her cousin, and he probably didn’t know, but she had no clue on how to break it to him.

It was maddening, really.

“High Command wants us to check out this planet,” Luke said, pointing to the holoprojection of a system. “It’s in the Korriban system, so we’ll have to be careful with our hyperspace jumps, but there should be an easy route right here,” he minimized the system projection and zoomed out further, before motioning between their current position near Bothawui and a planet Ryoo had never heard of - Athiss.

“Athiss is a hard planet to get to,” Luke explained as Ryoo closely studied the star map. “Hyperspace lanes have been unpredictable in the Korriban system for some time, and there’s only one way to get to Athiss.” he brought the hyperspace lanes up onto the star map. “We’ll need to jump to Korriban, then Ziost, and then we’ll have a straight-shot for Athiss.”

“Recalculating along the way, I’m guessing right?” Pooja added. Luke nodded, a light smile on his face.

“Right, after every jump we’ll have to recalculate. High Command doesn’t want to take any risks,”

“Any more than usual,” Ryoo shrugged.

“And recalculating our path after each jump should maximize our chances of not being pulled off-course.”

“Sounds good,” Pooja said, nudging her older sister’s shoulder playfully.

“When do we leave?” Ryoo asked.

Luke turned the holoprojector off, that smile still on his face. “30 minutes.”

LINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAK

A few evasion of Imperial forces and a tight escape from a bounty hunter later found Luke and his companions emerging from hyperspace above the dark red planet of Korriban.

Instantly, Luke tightened his grip on the ship’s controls, shuddering a bit at the dark, malevolent forces coming from the planet. He felt so much anger, hatred, even tendrils of fear…

And whatever was down there could sense him.

Jedi…something hissed in his mind, almost making him jump. 

“You good Luke?” one of his companions, Ryoo, asked. He recalled she was the older sister between her and Pooja, and had come from Naboo after Ryoo herself had been found out as an Rebel spy.

“Yeah,” he called back as Ryoo entered the cockpit. “I’m good. Just got a nasty feeling from that planet.” he nodded towards the red clouds storming across Korriban’s skies.

“Well, good news,” Ryoo grinned. “We will not have to go there.”

Luke snorted. “Don’t jinx it for me.”

Laughing, Ryoo plopped down into the co-pilot's seat as Luke began their recalculations to the planet Ziost.

“You know, I’ve done a little research on our way here,” Ryoo began conversationally.

“Yeah?” Luke replied, fiddling with the hyperspace controls. “I’ve heard you’ve got quite the talent for it.”

“Thank you,” Ryoo spun the chair around to face him, hands on her Rebellion-issued pants. “Good to know my reputation proceeds me!” Luke shot her a smile as the recalculatiosn started.

“Korriban, also known as Morraband, was apparently homeworld to the Sith,” Ryoo explained as their ship powered up its hyperdrive and shot into hyperspace. “Lots of creepy artifacts and - allegedly - some spirits of ancient Sith still reside there.”

Luke grimaced. “That doesn’t make me want to go there.”

Ryoo punched him in the shoulder after he let go of the controls. “Wasn’t trying to convince you,” she said. “I think we’re in a system that used to belong to the Sith,” she explained at Luke’s questioning look. “And Athiss is in it.”

Luke’s mouth opened slightly as he slowly turned his chair around to face her. “So we should be very careful,” he slowly concluded.

Ryoo nodded. “Exactly.”

Luke leaned back in his seat and sighed. “Why are my missions never normal?” he grumbled slightly. Ryoo gave a cheeky grin.

“Maybe because of the Force?”

“If the Force is the problem, then I’d like to file a complaint.” Luke let his own grin form.

“I bet it’ll say to give it to the complaint department,” Ryoo continued, her grin widening as she pointed to the mini trash compactor.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Luke dryly replied. “Very funny.”

That was when Pooja poked her head in. “My “Ryoo is being impertinent” senses were tingling,” she reported, fixing her sister with a look. “What’s going on here?”

Ryoo gave an exaggerated eye roll to Luke, making him smile even more. “Oh, nothing baby sister,” she teased. “Just discussing what the Force would say about Luke’s complaints.”

Pooja shook her head with a sigh, but a smile was on her face. “Well, don’t get too into it, okay?” she said. “You never know if the Force may take it the wrong way!”

“I’ll be sure to put a word in.” Luke offered with a deadpan stare.

“For or against me?” Ryoo asked.

Luke cracked a grin. “Against.”

Ryoo gasped, slapping her hand to her chest. “Treachery!” she dramatically exclaimed. “Betrayal!”

“It’ll serve you right!” Pooja teased, coming to sit down on one of the spare passenger seats. “Think the Force could handle her?” she asked Luke, who shrugged.

“Don’t know, maybe it’ll immediately drop her back on us.” he responded. He laughed as Ryoo shoved his shoulder and did the same to her sister.

“Oh, shut it you two!” the older of the group grinned. “Or I may lock you in a storage closet when we get back!”

“You’ll have to deal with Leia’s wrath then,” Luke innocently said.

“Damn!” Ryoo threw her hands into the air. “There’s no winning with you!”

Luke simply threw his head back and laughed.

LINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE

Pooja couldn’t believe it.

She had actually managed to find her cousin! Luke Skywalker!

And not only that, but she’s on a mission with both him and her sister!

The only thing that would make it better is if…if the rest of their family was with them.

Her heart twisted at the thought of her parents and beloved grandparents on the scrutiny of the Empire. She hoped they were okay, and would do what they needed to in order to survive.

Even if it meant denouncing Pooja and Ryoo.

She would want them to suffer because of their true allegiance.

“So, Luke, what vibes did you get from Ziost?”

“Death. Betrayal. Darkness.”

“Ooookay. Yeah we’re not going there either.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Pooja smiled at the banter Ryoo had easily entered with their cousin. Luke was fun to talk to - funny, kind, and clever.

It reminded her of Uncle Ani.

“You know Luke,” Pooja butted into the conversation, flinging her arms around the headrest of Luke’s seat. “Would you be interested in any help with Jedi artifact finding? Ryoo would be an excellent help.”

Luke looked mildly surprised, like he hadn’t thought about actively finding Jedi artifacts.

Ryoo raised an eyebrow, but looked pleased at the idea.

“Eventually,” Luke said. “I think I would, and if she’s interested…” he raised his own brow in Ryoo’s direction, and she instantly nodded her agreement.

“It’s a plan!” Pooja’s sister announced as they came out of hyperspace.

“Welcome to Athiss,” Luke said as they came to hover over the planet. Looking out the viewport, Pooja saw the brown and blue landscape flecked with parts of dark green. White clouds curled throughout the planet’s sky.

“Vibe check?” Ryoo leaned over and staged-whispered to Luke. Pooja gave her a chiding look. Honestly, it felt like Pooja was the older sister sometimes!

Luke was frowning. “There is life down there all right,” he said as they began their descent into the clouds. “It doesn’t seem to be as darkness-heavy as Korriban or Ziost, but I’m still getting a bad feeling about it.”

“Great,” Pooja sighed. “Who’s ready?”

“Not me.” Ryoo and Luke replied together.

“Neither am I,” Pooja agreed. “But here goes nothing.”

Their ship came in for a landing, Luke being very careful not to clip the sides on any of the vast mountain ranges.

“It’s curious,” Ryoo said as the ship powered down. “This isn’t anything like I had expected from a Sith world. It’s very…habitable. Not creepy.”

They all stared out of the viewport.

“I think that is exactly what makes it so creepy.” Pooja heard Luke murmur to himself.

He was right.

There was something off about Athiss.

Very off.

[mel-the-pirate-writeblr]

Lost Control (M(T)PJ: Ditto Defect)

Winter Whumperland 2022 Day 12 // Whumpcember 2022 Day 12

Whumperland Prompt Masterlist

Day 12 Prompt: The Nutcracker: Forced to Perform | Animal Attack | Forced Transformation | Comfort: Favorite Holiday Movies.

Whumpcember Prompt Masterlist

Day 12 Prompt: Broken Bone

Word Count: ~750 words

This is a part of a personal Pokémon Fanfiction series, My (Twisted) Pokémon Journey, and is looking at a part of a story that I haven't gotten to or put out there yet, but I have MANY ideas for, called Ditto Defect. This specific story is set in Unova with Team Plasma as the antagonists, though I have a nice little OC antagonist so I don't have to struggle with too many canon characters.

My (Twisted) Pokémon Journey Masterlist

This short bit is specifically about the main POV character, Crystal, struggling with a transformation ability and it breaking down as she uses it, fighting one her her tormentor’s Pokémon. Enjoy!

🙞 🙟 🙝 🙜

Sebastian stalked into the observation lab early today. He had a Krookodile that walked beside him when they stood outside my containment chamber. "We'll be doing another observation test today. I do enjoy the data we can glean from your battles. N said you were a very accomplished trainer, after all, and our records show your early success in the Youth Indigo League. How much do you remember without your precious PokéDex? How many Pokémon, how many moves?"

I remained in my human form, determined to keep it for as long as I could. I couldn't risk being stuck in a Pokémon form, and I didn't trust that I would be able to use Transform successfully. My control over it was deteriorating rapidly, and it took an increasing amount of energy to even initiate Transform in the first place. 

The Krookodile sauntered in. I could sense the excitement to battle from it. This time, there would be no guilt – this was Sebastian's own Pokémon, I knew that much. This wasn't stolen or abused, like the Liepard.

"I'll leave you to it, Krookodile."

The Krookodile smiled maliciously at me. 

Without warning, he swiped at me, his claws glowing purple. Dragon Claw, I recognized. I only just got out of the way in time, but the follow-up Dragon Tail caught me off-guard, and it slammed hard into my side – knocking the air out of me, but I wasn't sure if that was all, or if my ribs— Can't think about that now, I thought, pushing the thought aside. Pain is an indicator. Nothing more. I hastily breathed a Flamethrower in the Krookodile's direction on instinct.

I thought of Ninetales, thanks to Hex, and their ability to curse – the legends I heard as I grew up. Will-O-Wisp, I thought, conjuring the cursed purple tongues of flame and sending them toward the Krookodile. 

Belatedly, I remembered that the Krookdile was a ground-type. I need water!

The Krookodile struck before I could adapt. I had enough time to recognize the attack, and try and defend against it – Crunch, against my raised arm. Luxray used this often enough for me to know it well. I didn't have time, I couldn't do anything so fast – crunch, right on my arm.

The pain was similar to the pain of using Transform, but it wasn't resolving into anything. I heard myself scream in pain – the Krookodile's jaws must have broken my arm.

In the haze, my yell turned into a roar, and the rest of my body started to burn. Ninetales, I had the brief clarity to think. Mid-Transform, I used Iron Tail as I gained the nine tails, slamming each tail down sequentially onto the Krookodile. I landed hard, unable to use one of my front legs – even though Transform, it stayed broken. With my whole body hurting, I forced out a Hydro Pump directly at the stunned Krookodile. He finally fainted, to my relief.

I struggled to my feet, holding up my broken leg. I didn't want to Transform. I don't have enough energy to use it again, especially not with this leg. Can I heal it with my ability?

Sebastian approached the door, and I snarled at him, fire licking at my teeth. His sickeningly satisfied expression only fueled my fury.

"What a lovely performance," he mocked. "I think we're starting to make good progress. I did note that you tried halting your transformation. Everything will be faithfully recorded."

As futile as I knew it would be, I blasted the door with Flamethrower. I did get the satisfaction of Sebastian flinching back, though I did little or even no damage otherwise.

"Do you want to use my Krookodile for something else, or may I take him back?"

As if you need my permission. If you wanted him, you'd find a way to take him. I just continued baring my fangs.

"I'd like to take him to heal. You wouldn't keep a Pokémon in pain, for how they were raised?"

As if they aren't sentient in their own right!

"We can just sedate you. It's really no skin off my teeth."

I huffed out a small plume of fire, and went to lay in the farthest corner, where my bed was. I didn't lay on it, but faced away from the door. I heard it open, heard the Pokéball returning Krookodile, and heard the door lock again.

"You'll lose this battle, girl," Sebastion promised me. "You'll become what you were always mean to be: a weapon. You made that choice. It's not our fault you did – but it's our goal to make sure you're useful in the process of Team Plasma taking over Unova."

[whumpshaped]

I make some obstacle courses for mitten. At first they’re fun and enjoyable for mitten, like playground type stuff. Then it gets a little more difficult and tiring, mitten might get some scrapes & bruises. The final level is the most dangerous, mitten might break some bones, get burned, or even lose some body parts. (I’ll be nice and give mitten 30 min breaks in between levels to rest a little)

trigger warnings: gore, blood, tiny whumpee, amputation, forced to perform

Mitten starts out enjoying the obstacle course. It has never been to a playground, but now it thinks it might like that as well.

As the levels start to get harder, Mitten starts asking for more breaks. It even starts begging you to just let it quit. When you tell it not to be ungrateful and to go on with the course, it still tries its best. The last level looks terrifying - when one of the obstacles rips its arm off, it starts to sob uncontrollably.

When it's finally over, Mitten lies down onto the floor, blood pooling around it. It shakily asks you whether it's really over, and when you say yes, it thanks you for the experience.