#implied hand whump

[stagelightwhump]

Does it have to be a blorbo from my shows or can it be MY blorbo? Because I kind of want to know what they'd do to Mal https://www.tumblr.com/distracted-obsessions/750327129941639170/knock-knock-mal-groaned-at-the-knock-at-the

You can absolutely submit home-made blorbos! And I must say, this one is very interesting!

First of all, the ears would need to be stretched and molded into shape, which, thankfully, is rather easy, as ears are made of cartilage. Next, even though no tails are mentioned in the story, a retractable cord tail is still installed, so that the Unit can be charged. If requested, a wolf tail cover can be added.

Next, barring the presence of something like pawpads on the hands or feet (in which case, depending on how divergent it is from the human bauplan, they would either be fatty silicone implants, or the hands or feet would be replaced entirely), the Chip is then installed, and memories of the source timeline are implanted, as well as a weaving program.

Finally, in order to avoid issues with improper or unregulated voltage, a shock collar is installed directly and permanently onto the neck, integrated with the C6 vertebrae. This is to ensure that any voltage administered is low enough not to damage either the organic system, or the electronics within the Unit's repaired systems. For higher voltages, the Chip manually simulates the damages instead, resulting in the same mental effects and physical pain as a normal shock collar, without causing unnecessary damage or stress to the internals.

Once the Unit is fully repaired and functional, it is placed back into the crate it arrived in (or given a new one, if the crate is somehow missing or damaged), secured in place, and shut down until delivered to the purchaser.

Thank you so much for the ask! I love doing these :D

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane’s Pets Pt. 22: Proof of Life

TWs in the tags

Previous

Masterlist

Next

Ransom video | “I’ve got a pulse.” | Screams from across the hall

The Kitty fights against their chains as if they could break out by just fighting hard enough. Cute little thing.

I smile. “Are you ready, Kitty?”

Their eyes scan the room, taking in the camera and the table of weapons.

“Are you making some kind of ransom video?”

“What? No. Who would I even send that to?” I laugh. “I know full well there’s no one who would pay to free you. That’s not why you’re here.”

“Then… why am I here?”

They speak with impressive calmness for someone in their position. Like they’re trying to calm a spooked horse. They think I’m a little kid.

That will change.

“That’s a wonderful question! You’re here to be my pet.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll see, you’ll see. Be patient.”

“And… what’s the camera for?”

“It’ll be nice to have video. I can look back through it whenever I want, and I can play it for you if you ever need a reminder of where this all started.” I pluck the crowbar off the table and take a few practice swings. It’s always so hard to pick the first torture method. Do I go extremely brutal out of the gate, or do I slowly ramp up the pain? So many choices…

They look at me, calculating. “You don’t have to do this. I can help. I know you must be scared. I know someone’s making you do things you don’t want to do.”

“Ha! I am no one’s underling, and I am not afraid. But you’re right, I don’t have to do this. And you can help me, although it’s not in the way you’re thinking.”

I wonder how long it will take them to realize I’m doing this because I want to.

“How can I help you, then?”

I’ve decided what to start with. “Hold out your hand for me and keep it still.”

~~

Puppy can hear screams across the hall.

She just got that name. Jane used to just call her Doll or Pet or Puppet or Toy. There was no confusion about who she was talking to. But with another pet, she needs a way to tell them apart.

The new one, the one Jane calls Kitty, is not having a good time. They scream and scream and scream. Their throat is going to hurt later. And whatever body part Jane’s maiming.

Puppy doesn’t want to listen. But even if Jane hadn’t locked her in the room across from them, the screams are impossible to ignore.

She hopes they’ll die. It’s a horrible thing to wish, but wishing that they’d survive would be even worse. She hopes Jane will get too excited and push too far and the new one will die after just one torture session.

The screaming doesn’t stop for hours. But, like all things, it eventually comes to an end, and the silence it leaves is almost as terrifying as the screams.

~~

“Do you still want to help me?”

Kitty pulls away.

“Is that a no? What did I tell you about saying no to me?”

They’re silent.

“Well, we can work on that more later. Do you want to meet my Puppy?”

This makes them look confused, but they still don’t say anything. Maybe they’ve just lost their voice.

“You’ll love her. I’ll have her come bandage you up, alright?”

I teleport to the room I left Puppy in, unlocking the door.

“Come here, you’re going to bandage up Kitty for me.”

She follows obediently. When she sees Kitty, she rushes to their side and checks their pulse.

“You need proof they’re alive? Guess you wouldn’t want to waste your time bandaging a dead thing.”

She doesn’t respond, but that’s because she knows better than to speak without permission by now.

“This is going to be so much better, Puppy. You’ll take care of each other so that I don’t have to, and you’ll have a friend your age! Oh, you need supplies to bandage them, don’t you?”

I grab a first aid kit and toss it to her. She doesn’t have a lot of experience bandaging someone else, but she’ll get the hang of it.

It’s going to be so much fun to have two. No one but me knows they’re even alive.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @ghostsinthecloset

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

unpopular opinion but whump should and deserves to be messy

"Yeah duh there's plenty of scenarios with blood and tears--" no. I want more.

I want pink tinted spit dribbling out of Whumpee's mouth. I want strings of saliva connecting between their busted lip to Whumper's tongue. I want drool running down the corners of their mouths because of a gag that makes it difficult to swallow.

I want sweat making Whumpee feel sticky and clammy to the touch. I want their skin to be slick and soaking into their soiled clothes. I want them to squirm in discomfort of a dirty shirt clinging to their back from precious fluids that are going to risk further dehydration. I want their hair to be continuously damp and hanging in thick strands in their face.

I want the scabs to turn white with pus and black with infection. I want old wounds to tear open and bleed a thick red. I want the pink flesh underneath to pulse and quiver, the sight of yellow fat and cartilage. I want blood vessels and capillaries to burst and spread over an area, I want burns to start brown and peel away to a tender pink.

I want Whumpee to vomit out of their nose because their mouth is gagged. I want bile to reek on their clothing and on their tongue. I want them to grow use to the taste of bitter blood and burning chyme forever in the back of their throat. I want them to have to snort and hack to be able to spit out whatever was still caught on their tongue or risk swallowing it down.

I want their tears to remain unwiped and crusting over their eyes. I want snot to smear over their cheeks and leave their lips uncomfortably tacky. I want their face to remain blotchy and red because they just can't get it clean. I want dirt and blood and skin to build up under their fingernails to the point they risk infecting their own wounds if they try and mess with it. I want Whumpee to only be sprayed down with cold water and an old towel, never any soap and never in all the creases of their body.

I want their bodies caked in grime and viscera and bodily fluids. I want Whumper to never give them the luxury of feeling clean and in fact actively making them more filthy each time. I want Whumpee's clothes yellowed and their hair matted and their skin sickly. I want injuries to never properly heal so that the only option is to amputate the necrosis. I want Whumper to force Whumpee to clean up whatever kind of mess they made by licking it off the floor.

I want arteries to spew like a garden sprinkler. I want the exposed roots of pulled teeth to dangle freely in their mouth. I want Whumpee's hair, including all of their body hair, to grow to unruly lengths that are constantly tangled and ingrown. I want them to find comfort in starving because it means there's nothing to risk throwing up. I want them to scrub their skin raw and bleeding, uncaring how much it aggravates their injuries or how the soap stings, the first chance they're given for a real bath.

I want it to be nasty!!!!!!

[echoingalaxies]

Character A is possessed/bitten by something, and they can feel it taking over their mind and body, but slowly enough for them to grab B's shirt, pull them close and beg, "Please kill me before I hurt you."

B refuses, assuring them they will be okay, even though A knows they won't be able to fight it, they will lose control of their body, possibly forever.

"Please, B, please," A says, tears rolling down their face. "I'm too weak to fight it. Please kill me. Let me die as myself."

[whumpshaped]

tw royal whump, abuse of power, past torture, implied future torture, bullying for zero reason, drowning

Whumpee had been working for hours. The Hall was enormous; the floor seemed to stretch into infinity whenever they looked up. So they just stopped looking, working square inch by square inch, never daring to check how much more work they had left.

Their knees were aching, bones pressed against an unforgivingly hard surface, skin catching on every little bump. Their arms and back were burning with the exertion, but they continued scrubbing, rewetting and wringing out the cloth again and again.

Just a little more, surely. They had to be close to done by now.

They didn’t stop working when they heard footsteps. People inside the palace would come and go all the time, it wasn’t any of their business — except this set of footsteps seemed to grow nearer still, way beyond the threshold of the Hall.

Whumpee didn’t look up. They scrubbed even more diligently, keeping their head low and their movements as silent as possible. It didn’t matter. By the time those expensive boots entered their field of vision, they already knew who it was. There was only one person who never left them alone even while working.

Her Majesty’s second son was as much of a brat as one could get, even within the royal family; with all the power and none of the responsibility, plenty of free time, and an unexplainable sadistic streak, he was the subject of many of Whumpee’s recurring nightmares. They didn’t understand what they’d done to warrant being the prince’s favourite chewtoy, and they were starting to suspect there wasn’t a reason, aside from simple misfortune.

“Busy?”

Whumpee put down the cloth, still keeping their eyes fixed on the floor. What were they supposed to say? Yes, they were, but that could come off rude. If they said no, however… well, that was a clear lie. “I’m happy to assist in whatever Your Highness may need,” they said in the end, hoping it was good enough.

“Look at me.” Whumpee swallowed and looked up, meeting the prince’s icy cold eyes. If there ever was a picture of pure malice, it must’ve been based off of him. “Do you think you’re doing a good job here, servant?”

“I’m doing the best job I can possibly–”

“Look at the water.” The prince suddenly grabbed them by the hair, making them yelp as they were dragged over to the bucket. “It’s filthy. You should’ve brought fresh water long ago, that’s not going to clean anything.”

“Y-yes, Your Highness. I apologise. I’ll bring–” They were cut off when the prince let go, shoving them down towards the admittedly quite dirty water. They caught themself before they could’ve fallen, their face just inches away from being submerged. “I’ll bring–”

He stepped on the back of their head, pushing them down as far as their body would allow. They didn’t have a chance to take a deep breath beforehand, and they certainly wouldn’t get one now. Their terrified whines and whimpers escaped them in large bubbles of precious oxygen, but the prince showed no sign of wanting to let them up.

They couldn’t breathe. They couldn’t breathe. They couldn’t–

The pressure suddenly disappeared and Whumpee yanked their head out of the bucket, getting water everywhere as they coughed and sputtered. Their lungs were burning with all the inhaled musky water, their throat scratchy and in pain from the abuse.

“Oh, by the way,” the prince began casually while they were still wheezing, “Mother sent me to check on the state of the Hall, since the event is about to start soon. I’m sure she will be very disappointed when I tell her–”

“I’ll be quicker,” Whumpee choked out, every word bringing more agony. “Please, Your Highness, I–”

The prince didn’t hesitate to kick them in the ribs with those expensive boots, and through the pain, Whumpee wondered how severely they’d be punished if their useless body were to make a scratch in the leather. “Do not interrupt me,” he hissed. “You can’t do your damn job or show respect? Have you already forgotten the last lashing?”

They couldn’t answer. It all hurt so much, they were too scared, they hated it all–

“That’s quite alright, I suppose. When I tell Mother about the servant who caused the delay, I’ll simply offer to handle the punishment arrangements myself. It’ll be a nice refresher — since the water doesn’t seem to have been enough.”

[drwernicke]

[whumpshots]

Whump ABC #17 - Quiver

Based on the results of this poll.

_

It's nothing. It should be nothing, really.

This trigger hasn't been acting up for quite some time now, whumpee doesn't know what's been different today, but they can't stop shaking. Their body quivers, their heart races and their hands feel sweaty.

The weirdest thing is that their mind is clear, whumpee feels like they are viewing themself from outside, judging themself for the reaction their body has on apparently ... nothing.

Whumpee feels frustration wash over them as they look at their hands, the tremor in them. When caretaker comes over, whumpee looks up, face neutral, maybe even annoyed, and the other cocks an eyebrow.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?", they ask and take whumpee's hands in theirs, blocking the view on their quivering limbs.

"Nothing. It's nothing."

[whump-queen]

more art :3

general whump taglist: @whumpshaped @whumpsday @emmettnet @a-whump-sideblog @whump-it-like-its-hot @wolfeyedwitch @whumper-soot @unorganisedalienrubbish @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @hidden-dreamland @whumpedydump @lonesome--hunter @ashh-ed @whump-in-the-closet @shannon-foraker @oriantthegiant @banditosong @anonymustyou @feralwhump @jieunie-23 @whumpasaurus101 @morning-star-whump @whmp @captain-bo-bob-bobby @the-beasts-have-arrived

ask to be added or removed from the taglist <3

[pixelatedraindrops]

Another RainCode edit comic thing.

TW // Sneezing/Snz 🤧💦

(idk if its a trigger for people, but just in case you're not into that)

Also just to be safe:

PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG TO NON SNZ BLOGS

Yuma catches a nasty cold 🤧💦

I've given this boy enough fevers. (well he still has one but that's not the MAIN issue here) Made a small lazy edit comic outta my most recent sprite edits. (also my very poor attempt to make him look wet from the rain by darkening his hair and clothes and adding some...well very poorly drawn water droplets x-x)

After entering the base and removing his raincoat, the small soaked detective lets out a loud and wet sneeze. The city's gloomy rain really did a number on him due to the rotten luck of him losing his hat, resulting in the rain downpouring onto him. He ends up with an awful cold by the time he returns to base, his nose running, bright red and stuffed to the point that his voice becomes nasally. (as I said before, kanai ward rain probably gives people much harsher colds)

Yakou really has his work cut out for him looking after this sopping wet tissue of a trainee💦 But he's happy to do it. Its his job as chief to look after those in his agency. The sub will eventually be littered in tissues... ;w; (and everyone else in the agency will have to wear a mask when inside.)

I LIKE HOW I SAID IM NOT THAT INTO SNZ BUT I WANTED TO TRY MY HAND AT EDITING IT ANYWAY...

Man idk, after reading more sicknario prompts here, I suddenly wanted to see him all messed up being all wet from both the rain AND a drippy cold at the same time at least once… x’D The absolute WETTEST of wetcats. poor baby ;-; literal wet tissue

(not even my first time experimenting w snz, I kinda made another one here months ago)

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

:D

[giallogigan]

when a ship is rare an infects your body and soul there is nothing you can do but accept the demon and let it bend your will, this is me with shaymbaal

[whumpberry-cookie]

(Cw: implied fingore, finger whump)

AI chat bots make writing so much easier.

Now I just write to the "Writer's helper" and they respond with description how the wounds after losing nails heal and how the hands look afterwards.

And I don't have to write in google search very sketchy and awkward questions.

(Tho I still overexplain to the bot that it's for the story and I am in fact NOT a murderer)

[witchering10123]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Bato/Hakoda (Avatar), Bato & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Aang/Katara (Avatar), Azula & Sokka (Avatar) Characters: Bato (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Aang (Avatar), Azula (Avatar), Gilak (Avatar) Additional Tags: Drunkenness, Alcoholic Bato (Avatar), i was not expecting to make that a tag but uh, voila!, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Hurt Sokka (Avatar), Hurt Hakoda (Avatar), like not actually in this fic, but we all know they're going through it, Hurt Bato (Avatar), Protective Zuko (Avatar), Azula (Avatar) Redemption, kind of, she's getting there give her time, Whumptober 2023, Day Twenty-Seven: Forgotten (Whumptober 2023) Series: Part 27 of a witchering's whumptober 2023 Summary:

Zuko looks up, frowning. “You really don’t remember, do you?” Bato can only shake his head in response. The boy slowly untangles himself, and leaves Bato on the ground to think. And he tries to, he really does: there’s something scratching the back of his mind but he can’t quite reach it.

-----

The clearest thought Bato's had all morning is that Zuko is being thoroughly immature. Those are his drinks.

Day Twenty-Seven: Forgotten - can be read as a standalone

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2022

NO. 24 - FIGHT, FLIGHT, OR FREEZE

Blood Covered Hands | “I don’t want to do this anymore” | Catatonic

Continued from here, this is the final piece of this series.

Taglist: @painful-pooch

Contains: lady whump, aftermath of corporal punishment, blood, non-sexual partial nudity, mild gore, burns, implied parental death

.

Somehow, once she’s conscious again, she manages to get up, find her bodice and put it back on, stumble to the Commander’s tent, give her report, and make it to her own tent. Or at least, she assumes she did, because she’s in her tent now with her bodice on, and she has a vague recollection of her father’s frown from behind his desk.

Her back is on fire. Shaking hands grasp at the fabric of her bodice once more, pulling it slowly and carefully up over her head. The open wounds stretch and pull with the movement. Bits of the blood have dried, and it feels like her skin is ripping as the material comes unstuck.

Time skips, and she’s looking down at the bodice, bunched up in her hands. She drops it to the ground and turns her palms up to stare at them. They’re stained with old and new blood. Her own blood.

Her head spins, and the next thing she knows she’s lying on her side on her bed, cradling her bloody hands to her chest. She stares straight ahead at the canvas wall of the tent, unseeing, while the pain washes over her.

Her back burns. Each of the twenty new stripes is a line of fire across her skin. Her ribs still burn, too, that wedge-shaped patch of skin marred by her own hand. And underneath it all, the scar on her shoulder burns. If she focuses on it, images of flames and the sound of screams flash through her mind.

She squeezes her eyes shut. Tears that haven’t been shed in many, many years constrict her throat. “Mera,” she whispers. “I miss you. So much. I…” Her breath shudders into her lungs, tugging at the lashes, and her voice breaks. “I-I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Gritting her teeth, she rides out the wave of grief and shame until she can speak again. “But I’ll keep doing it. For you. For all of them.”

.

Mera = mother

Kamaria Masterlist

[evilwriter-originals]

Whumptober Day 7 - Trembling

Prompts: The Way You Shake and Shiver, Shaking Hands

Rated: teen

Warnings: lady whump, implied/referenced torture

Word Count: 495

Summary: Anaria is forced to have dinner with Hakur, and he comments on her shaking.

Anaria was shaking. She didn’t want to be shaking, but her body was doing it anyway. It had started in her hands, and was now traveling through the rest of her. 

This was her first meal after having been tortured in Hakur’s dungeon, her first meal with him. He’d insisted on her dining with him despite the pain she was in and wanting to rest, despite him being her tormentor and she his captive. 

Anaria had to hold her wine goblet with two hands, as a grip with one was making the wine slosh so badly it almost went over the rim.

“You know, Anaria,” Hakur started, picking up his own goblet. “I love the way you shake.”

Anaria choked. It hurt her wounds to cough, and she leaned over, covering her mouth with her napkin. Once the fit was over, she looked to Hakur, saw him smiling, taking a calm sip of his wine. 

“O-of course you would think that.” She tried to say it snidely, but it didn’t come out the way she wanted to - she sounded scared, under physical duress. Gods, her wounds were aching from coughing, and she was doubled over the table, hair nearly falling into her plate. 

She pushed the plate away with a trembling hand, and Hakur just watched with a smile. 

“Done eating already? I thought you would be famished.”

“I…” She didn’t know what to say. How was she to explain herself to him? She was extremely hungry after having been denied food for days, but being around Hakur made her lose her appetite, made her feel sick, even. 

“You want to keep up your strength,” Hakur told her. “For the next trip to the dungeon.”

Anaria felt tears stinging in her eyes. She couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t. 

“May I be excused?” she asked in a very small voice. It made her feel like a child again. She was allowed out of her room in the keep as long as she had an escort, and said escort had brought her to dinner. There was no chance of her escaping, not with the magic dampening collar around her neck, not with her flight feathers cruelly cut off. 

“Yes,” Hakur said. “If you must.” He waved his hand at her as if she didn’t matter, as if that motion would make her disappear.

Anaria’s knees wobbled as she stood and made her way out of the large dining room, her guard following her. He was a big human man, someone she couldn’t hope to overpower in the state she was in, and especially not without a weapon. She hadn’t tried talking to him, as he seemed pleased to see what Hakur had done to her. She would garner no sympathy from him. 

Anaria was relieved once she was back in her room - her prison inside a prison - with the door closed. She sat on the bed, putting her head in her hands. 

Her fingers still trembled.

[kim-poce]

Virginia's Pig

This is a commision requested by @cupcakes-and-pain, using his character, Virginia, from this amazing series.

Words: 1206

CW: hand whump (no nail whump), multiple whumpers, dehumanization, captive, implied starvation, noncon body modifications mention, skining.

=-=

There was only one thing worse than being picked by Virginia to be the ‘toy of the day’, and that’s being picked when Virginia’s friends are over too, a bunch of people that are a few screw ups away from being just another victims and yet act as if they own all the power of the world.

But well, they were lucky enough to be on Virginia's side instead of under her. Pig, on the other hand, wasn’t known for his luck, if he was lucky he wouldn’t be there to begin with. Still, why does it feel like he is the only one being chosen to suffer between everyone else?

“Hey, Pig, missed me?” one of Virginia’s friends asked, their voice was disgusting and terrifying to hear. “What, cat got your tongue?”

“N-no, I’m sorry, I mi-missed y-you,” Pig forced out. It was an obvious lie, but his fear was just as obvious and he hoped with all his might that this would be enough. He held in a groan when another person kicked his side, the pain of the blow mixed itself with the pain of hunger like a hellish cocktail.

“Who allowed you to talk, your idiot? You come here so often and don't even know the rules?”

Pig shivered, he fucked up even before the party started, he is screwed and the laughing and mockering arounf he just proved it, he hoped that the laughing would stop, and regreted imediately when it did.

“That’s enough,” Virginia said, her voice silencing everyone in the room. And if Pig got any more scared maybe it would silence his heart too. “Have I told you why I picked this thing today?”

“You didn’t. I wanted to play Horse!” one of her friends said, and Pig must be a selfish bastard for wishing they would truly just pick up Horse instead.

“So I’ll tell you,” Virginia said, a smirk could be heard in her voice. She placed her big —dangerous, scary, please take it away— hand on Pig’s shoulers, tying her grip as if he would dare to run away. “This stupid thing was caught stealing, what is to be espected from a fucking Pig.”

He could feel his blood running cold, cold sweat dripping from his chin. No one allowed him to talk yet so he didn’t doesn’t matter how much he wanted, and what would he even say? ‘I was hungry’? This would be the same as begging to be starved to death, and he didn’t want to starve, else he wouldn’t have stolen that bit of food from the floor when he thought no one was looking. He should’ve known better than that; there is always someone looking.

———

“Tyler, what should we do with a thief?” Virginia asked, visibiling tightening her grip on the captive, who was a lot more well behaved now than at the start, at least he isn’t fukcing passing out all the time now.

Tyler smiled, he was waiting to be allowed to choose the main punishment for a while, so he for sure wouldn’t let this opportunity pass on, “What else?” he smirk. “Let’s go for the hands.”

The laughing around him showed that he chose well, and more than anything Pig’s dread was so delicious to look at, fuck Horse, this sight is where the fun lives.

Pig whimpered pathetically, he was shivering so much that someone could accuse him of fighting back, surprisingly no one did, everyone’s mood was good, that thing was so lucky.

———

Being Virginia’s toy —being Pig— is permanent, it will only end with his unavoidable death. Pig knows that, but his heart still tries to jump out of his ribcage whenever some permanent change is made on his body. It makes the forever feel real, it makes it impossible for him to hope to get out of that hell.

Does Tyler know that? Do these people even know how fucked up they are? Do they feel guilty or ashamed in any way ever? Or is Pig too much of a thing and nothing of a person for it to matter? 

Pig tried to stay quiet, he really did, but who would even be quiet while being strapped down on a chair by a bunch of fucked up sadistics? He had the right to shake and back away, excetp that he isn’t a person so he had not a single fucking right.

The fear that usually keeps all the words in made him speak against the reason. “P-p-lease, don’t, please don’t cut please-” Pig shut himself up before someone else did, tears were alredy corving his whole face, dripping along with the sweat and the torture didn’t even start.

“Oh, you don’t want it, Pig?” Virginia asked, grabbing his chin up, he didn’t look at her eyes, he knew better than that, he also didn’t breathe, not because he wasn’t allowed to, but his lungs just wouldn’t move despites his efforts. “Okay, we won’t cut them off.”

If this was in the beginning, Pig would be so relieved they decided to be merciful, but not now, not anymore, now every sweet word was worse than any threat. Virginia is many many things, and none of them is close to merciful.

“What are you thinking?” a friend of hers asked, running their finger on Pig’s hand, his wrist were strapped down already, and even if they weren’t, he had no permission to move his hand away.

“We leave the little fingers behind and just take the skin away,” Viriginia said, enjoying Pig whimpers and foolish attempts not to cry. “That’s what you wanted, right Pig?”

She let go of his chin and he nodded, what else could he do? Pig closed his eyes when a knife came to view, but he wasn’t even allowed that, as Tyler forced both his eyes open.

“You don’t want me to gouge them out, do you?” he said, sending a chill down Pig’s spine, he was enjoying it way too much.

Pig stared helplessly as the knife on Virginia's friend’s hand went closer and closer, he kept staring as it broke the skin and shed blood, he didn’t scream just yet, he had it worse, he learned to be quiet.

But he just managed to be silent up to the moment Virginia pulled the skin, first so painfully slow but soon —as she had not the paintience or delicacy— pulling it all in one go, tearing the skin away from the flesh, in a new sharp and burning pain. Pig screamed his throat out, barely hearing the laughing and the “Pig is grunting a lot today”

There was no time to breathe, there were so many people, and they were going from both bleeding hands at the same time, making a small cut and ripping the skin over and over, Pig wondered just how much skin can a hand have.

When he was about to shut down, someone pulled his hair from behind.

“Hey pig,” Tyler whispered, “Don’t you dare to pass out now, we are only getting started. Keep looking.”

Pig did, but he couldn’t make out what was blood and what was exposed flesh, he didn’t even remember what he had done to deserve this anymore.

=-=