#light lab whump I think?

[whumpshaped]

thinking about lab whump and how the whumpers in that situation usually have the proper equipment to control everything in whumpee's life. and i mean everything. captivity is already sort of like that- you're confined, only have access to food and water you're provided, clothes you're given etc. but in a lab? bro. bro. that but Tenfold.

constant surveillance. proper monitoring of every bodily function that's going on. food and liquids tailored exactly to the whumpers' intentions with whumpee, down to the exact nutrients and how whumpee's body is absorbing them. because they can just check that. do they get clothes? who knows! even if they do, it's likely a hospital gown or something similar. things in the room can be controlled so precisely from the amount of light (maybe even the ratio of natural to articial light) to the temperature. medication- need i say more about medication? all of them look the same, white pills with unknown effects and side effects, and that's not to mention the things whumpee gets their body pumped full of through an IV.

it's just... so much more than your usual "i'm keeping you in my basement and if for some reason you manage to get out and call the cops i'm likely going to jail". it's "you're never getting out. there's twenty of us here and there's round the clock surveillance, number pads, and finger print identification on every door. we know exactly what we're doing and that makes us experts at torturing you in very specific ways you might not even understand. and we're definitely going to act like you don't understand. even if you do get out, who are you calling? the authorities? how do you know they're not funding this?"

you're nothing but a rat in a cage, and you can only hope the button you're pressing is about to give you a treat and not a shock.

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat #17: Close Your Eyes

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content: lab whump, captivity, clones, drugging, dehumanization, nonsexual nudity, murder mention, restraints, experimentation, mind control, noncon body modification, eye whump, medical whump, winged test subject whumpee, creepy scientist carewhumper

teehee Dew finally gets ice cream in this one yay

(if you can’t read this because of the eye whump, here’s an eye whumpless summary!)

— 

Anton was up late into the night, getting his test subject’s new clone ready. As Dew slept, Anton had injected him with something that’d make sure he wouldn’t wake up in the night during this ordeal. He didn’t want Dew awake and watch another clone come to life. He didn’t want Dew to watch Anton set another version of him free.

The cloning machine was on the other side of the lab anyway, so Dew would hardly be able to see it from his room. Still, it was a necessary precaution. Dew was already going through so much pain; he didn’t need more stuff to worry about.

Anton was far too familiar with making clones. He’d spent five years of his life alone in his lab with nobody to experiment on besides himself and his clones; he’d grown familiar with the process of making and breaking multiple versions of himself. He’d grown used to not viewing these things as real people, because they weren’t.

The process was always the same. Inject a DNA sample into the machine, and wait a couple of days. The clone would come out with all of the memories of its original, it would… most of the time be an exact copy. Of course, Dew’s clone couldn’t be an exact copy of him now, not with his wings, so Anton had to do some tweaking. Make a clone of the old clone; a copy of a copy. Easy enough. No harm, no foul.

In the early days of making clones of himself, there was a recurring problem Anton had noticed. There were too many times where a new Anton would see himself standing before him, lab coat bloodied and hair disheveled, and know right away what its pathetic life would be used for. There were too many times where the clone would fight back, try to outsmart him and escape.

He needed a way to keep himself safe— from himself— so he implemented something into the machine that sedated when they first came out. It kept them weak and docile, lessened the shock of being a test subject, and kept them unable to fight back. It’d come in handy now, as well.

The machine whirred to life, lights lighting up and beeping. Anton didn’t miss that sound in the slightest. It brought him back to his darkest times, times he honestly wouldn't mind to forget completely, if he hadn’t already.

After a few moments, the clone was ready. Anton swallowed his nerves and walked up to the machine.

“Hello,” Anton said, helping the new Dew step out of the machine.

“Hi,” the clone said, looking up at Anton with wide, curious eyes. It stood in front of him, calm and relaxed. It wasn’t wearing any clothes, but it didn’t care. It just stared ahead. So innocent. So blissfully oblivious to the horrors just under its nose.

“Do you know your name?”

“It’s Dew…” The clone looked around, curious eyes dancing across the strange and unfamiliar laboratory. Though, it didn’t look scared. It turned its gaze back to Anton. “Where am I?”

“Don’t worry your silly little head about that,” Anton said, patting the clone on the head. “Put these on.” The scientist handed the clone some folded up clothes, and stepped away.

It felt wrong, to Anton. This wasn’t the Dew he had grown familiar with the past couple months. It didn’t have top surgery. It didn’t have wings. It was just a lie made to keep his friends at bay. All Anton saw when he looked at this thing was all his hard work gone. This clone wasn’t the real Dew, and for that, he despised it.

Anton shook those thoughts away. Of course this wasn’t the real Dew, that was the point. The real Dew would be safe with him, here. He never needed to think about clones again after this.

After the clone was dressed, it started looking around again, expression noticeably more dazed than before.

“Woah, what’s that thing?” It said, looking closely at a giant cylindrical tube-like vat of green fluid. It was tall, going up all the way to the ceiling, and the glass looked very thick. There was nothing inside of it besides a bright green and glowing fluid that was mesmerizing to look at. And even though the rest of the lab was dark, this lit up the area around them well enough.

“Nothing. Follow me.” Anton grabbed its arm and swiftly led it out of the lab before it could ask any more questions.

“What’s going on?” It asked, catching up to Anton’s pace.

“I’m taking you home.”

“Oh. Who are you?”

“…It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh.” Besides the pair of footsteps, there was a long silence as they walked up the stairs. “This place kinda reminds me of the strongholds in Minecraft… Hey, I’m kinda cold.”

“We’re almost there.”

Anton led Dew’s clone to his car and sat it in the passenger seat, put its seatbelt on, and shut the door. It had stopped talking now, seemingly too tired to ask anymore questions. As Anton drove, he couldn’t help but periodically glance at the dozy, docile thing sitting next to him, looking out the window at the dark forest. It had no idea what was happening. It was almost cute.

“I’m sleepy.” The clone yawned. The repetition of the trees going past the car was almost hypnotic.

“I know. Just relax. It’ll be a long drive.”

“Okay,” It said softly, resting its head against the cold window. “G’night…”

Anton gave a bittersweet smile, and watched its eyes flutter shut as it drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

In around four hours, Anton would be dropping this clone off at its house. He would wipe its memories of the night, and it’d live its life as Dew, its friends none the wiser.

He just had to drive back to Dew’s old house. It was easy.

Anton had tried to ignore the horrible feeling in his gut, his memories of the gory and grotesque scene his lab rat had caused in that room, only a few days ago. He had tried to forget it, tried to focus on the fact that his test subject had escaped, and what had to be done about it. The murder could be easily taken care of; disposed of, cleaned up, and forgotten about. It was in the past. It didn’t matter anymore.

And yet…

Visions of Dew’s bloody and broken corpse flashed through Anton’s mind. The way his favorite little lab rat was lying lifeless on the carpet, blood pooling under the limp and stiff body that was littered with stab wounds, knife only inches away from the scene. The way the light in the poor guy’s eyes was gone. Just like that.

The way Dew was dead.

Dew was dead. Not the real Dew, of course, but that didn’t matter. Anton had seen a Dew’s bloodied corpse laying in front of him, and it sickened him.

He had tried to ignore it. There were more important things to worry about than his feelings— than those horrible feelings of sadness and grief flooding through him at the sight of his test subject, dead on the ground. More important things like the fact Dew had escaped, and needed to be brought back home. The fact he had to punish Dew for disobeying.

But how could he possibly punish someone who was hurting so bad to the point he drank one of Anton’s vials, or shot himself with one of Anton’s inventions? How could he possibly hurt someone worse than they were already hurting? He couldn’t.

Of course, Dew knowing he had been cloned and that there was nothing to do to escape his life as Anton’s test subject was probably punishment enough. It was obvious now he felt completely hopeless; Anton had stolen each and every ounce of hope the man had left by replacing him with a clone and threatening his friends.

So Anton didn’t punish him for escaping. He didn’t punish him for his obvious disobedience and attempts to get out of experiments— too caught up thinking about if Dew had grabbed any other vial, any other invention, it could’ve been so much worse. He didn’t want anything bad to ever happen to him. So he’d been kind, comforting. And it seemed to have worked. Dew was content here, he seemed to finally accept things, which was all he really wanted.

Anton arrived at his test subject’s old address. The clone was still fast asleep, and it took a few light nudges of its shoulders to wake it up. It was alert now, as normal as it could be, acting like the spitting image of Dew. The two of them got out of the car and it questioned him, but Anton was quick to hit it with a quick blast of his memory eraser. He left it by the curb of its house, and drove around the corner out of sight. Memories of that night left its mind, and it stood alone in front of its house. Shrugging its shoulders, it walked inside, out of sight, and Anton began his ride home.

. . .

The scientist had been preparing for an experiment all morning, and Dew had no idea what it was.

Anton had agreed to take a few days off and let Dew rest, giving them both a much needed break and start experiments again once he was ready. Of course, he’d never be ready, but if it was going to happen anyway, it was best to get it over with, and Anton seemed to be itching to start again.

It had to have been almost lunch time by now, and without Sasha to keep him company, Dew spent the morning curled up in his room, drawing and listening to music, blocking out the rest of the world and hoping whatever Anton had planned for him wouldn’t be too agonizing.

Without anything to be hopeful about, that was all he’d been doing lately. That was all he could do, now. Anton didn’t seem keen on letting him outside anymore, and Dew was too petrified to ask.

Dew could’ve spent more time with Anton the past few days. He’d thought about the birthday party he threw him, and their time spent outside together, playing with animals and flying, and when they had watched Dew’s favorite show together upstairs— the last time he had interacted with Anton before he’d ruined everything with his stupid escape.

The truth was, Anton had been fun to be around sometimes, and at this point, Dew wasn’t afraid to admit it. He’d been scared before, when he still held on to the possibility of being free, but now? If he really was stuck here forever, maybe it was in his best interest to use Anton’s friendliness to his advantage. Dew hated the man, but at least he wasn’t cruel. At least he was trying to keep him happy.

If Dew was really going to be a test subject forever, as depressing as that sounded, he should make the most of the rest of his life.

So he sat on his bed, waiting apprehensively for Anton to finish preparing his torment and bring him into the lab. As he doodled in his sketchbook, he heard the scientist’s footsteps coming towards his room. He put his sketchbook down, brought his knees to his chest, and stared at the door.

“Okay Dewey,” Anton walked in, smiling menacingly, yet giddy with excitement. “It’s all prepared. Let’s go.”

Dew slowly stood up, hospital gown already on, and stared incredulously at the scientist as he pulled out a long chain.

“W-what is that?” Dew asked, taking a nervous step back.

Anton sighed. “The past two days you have hurt yourself using the things in my lab. I don’t know if I can fully trust you in there unrestrained anymore. And this experiment has to go perfectly, I don’t want any more delays, okay?”

Of course. Dew had lost all of Anton’s trust, it only made sense for him to be extra restrained in the lab. That didn’t stop his heart from racing, though. “O-okay.”

Anton smiled and clicked the chain around both of Dew’s wrists in front of him, then the two of them headed into the lab. Dew ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach. This was his life now, and he had to be the best test subject he could be so that Anton would be nice to him. He had to be good. He had to.

He hopped up on the operating table, and was told to lay down. Anton placed a pillow behind his back so his wings would be cushioned semi-comfortably. Dew was thankful for that, at least.

As Anton started messing with the restraints on the side of the table, Dew looked up at him with teary eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked meekly.

“You’ll have to be restrained for this one,” Anton explained, tightening the straps around Dew’s legs. “Can’t have you moving around too much. This too tight?”

“N-no.”

Dew weakly protested as Anton tried grabbing his arms. The scientist shot him a look, and he meekly complied, allowing the scientist to spread his arms flat against the table and strap them tightly in the restraints. Dew shuddered as Anton gave the straps an extra tug just to make sure they were secure.

Anton took out his tape recorder and pressed record. “How are you feeling?”

“It’s cold,” Dew whimpered, goosebumps running across his skin.

“Don’t worry.” Anton ruffled his hair. “I’m sure you’ll forget all about the cold after we begin.”

The scientist began rummaging around the tray of tools, and Dew’s nervousness got the better of him. “W-what are you gonna do to me?” he asked.

Anton looked up, a giddy smile creeping across his face. It made Dew’s stomach drop. “Eyes are fascinating, aren’t they?”

“Um, what do you mean?” Dew mumbled.

“Eyes. They’re so fascinating, so complicated and intricate. We rely on our eyes to see the world around us, but… what if there was more? What if there was a way to see beyond the threshold of reality? I want to test something I’ve been working on for a while now, and I think I’ve finally figured out how to do it.”

“You mean— test on my eyes? You’re going to experiment on my eyes?”

“Yes! I won’t tell you the exact details though, I want it to be a surprise.”

As much as Dew wanted to behave as well as possible, he was beginning to panic. “N-no! No, Anton, y-you can’t! They’re my eyes! Please—”

“Remember that one time you asked me to give you night vision?” Anton joked, nonchalantly waving around a long syringe. “Don’t you want this?”

“No!” Dew screamed, but quickly realized that resisting would only make things worse. That’s right, he had to behave. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and looked back up at Anton. Maybe they could talk this through? “Wait— wait. Can’t you j-just test this out on a clone instead? What if something goes wrong?”

“I would, but that’s why you’re here, silly.” Anton booped his nose. “And nothing will go wrong. I’ll make sure of it.”

“No— c’mon, Anton! I th— I thought we were friends!”

Anton furrowed his brows, looking at Dew with a sad expression. “I need to do this, Dew. You’re my test subject. This is what you’re here for. …How about, after this, I’ll get you some ice cream? How does that sound?”

“B-but— Ah!” Dew yelped and squeezed his eyes shut when he saw Anton’s hand come towards him, only for him gently taking his glasses off. Still, that was not a good sign.

Dew peaked an eye open to see Anton picking up a giant, blurry needle.

“Wait— wait wait wait wait WAIT!” Dew cried, imagining all sorts of horrible things Anton could do to his eyes, and knowing this would probably be the worst thing he’d have to endure so far. He struggled against the restraints fruitlessly, only tiring himself out. “I— I’ll do anything, anything but this! Please!”

Anton sighed. “C’mon Dewey, be a good test subject.” As Dew continued pleading and blabbering as if his life depended on it, the scientist took out a roll of duct tape.

Dew’s eyes went wide. “Wait! Wait wait wait, please! Please n—”

“Stay still.” Dew’s breath hitched as he was rendered completely motionless. A chill ran down his spine as the scientist put a strip of duct tape over his mouth, smoothing it out with his hand. Dew glared at him, and Anton ruffled his hair, smiling. “There you go.”

He was eerily still as Anton prepped the syringe. Dew whimpered into the gag as Anton brought the needle closer, grabbed his arm, and injected a strange fluid into his veins. Dew only hoped it would ease the horrible pain that was sure to come.

“This’ll just make you feel a little groggy. A small sedative, that’s all it is. But I need you awake for this, can you stay awake for me?”

Dew nodded, already feeling drowsy, as tears fell down his cheeks.

“Good. Let’s get started, then.” Anton said, snapping on black rubber gloves.

The scientist picked up a small glass bottle that was filled with a very bright blue liquid. It was neon teal and glowing bright, with small bubbles swirling around inside it. Anton took an eye dropper and filled it with the substance. Then, Dew hazily heard a command to keep his eyes open, and he realized he was unable to close them no matter how much he wanted to.

The scientist was smiling to himself and saying something into the tape recorder, something Dew was too dazed and terrified to make out.

His chest heaved as he watched Anton’s hand slowly approach his eyes. He quickly turned his head away, only causing the scientist to wrench his head back with a rough hand entangled in his hair. Dew wanted nothing but to squeeze his eyes shut, but he couldn’t.

His eyes burned with tears. Everything felt like a hazy dream, far far away and yet so real. A wave of terror flowed through him. Anton held the eyedropper above one of Dew’s eyes and squeezed it, causing a couple of drops of that glowing blue liquid to fall into his eye. 

No no no NO NO NO! Dew couldn’t move. It felt like his eye was on fire. Something was coating his entire eyeball inside and out and he couldn’t get it off of him.

Anton repeated the process with Dew’s other eye.

Anton looked down at his test subject. “Hey, hey, don’t cry, Dew. Stop crying.” His tears dried up immediately after.

Dew could only watch in horror, his vision blurry and pained, as the scientist picked up another object and brought it towards him.

Dew’s vision was fading, and so was his consciousness. He hoped that only implied he would fall asleep soon. Yes, sleep, that sounded nice. Dew tried to relax as the room went dark, as he let Anton do whatever he wanted to do to him. He felt himself drift off, succumbing to the drugs. He barely heard the scientist’s voice anymore. He was so, so tired.

Right as Dew was about to close his eyes, he felt a sudden sharp sting on the bottom of his face. Anton had ripped the duct tape off.

“Wake up, Dewey.” It was the scientist’s voice, shaking him and his mind awake. That’s right. Dew was supposed to stay awake.

Anton loosened the straps enough for Dew to partially sit up, and held a cold flask of liquid to his lips. “Drink this.”

Dew moved his head away groggily. “W-w-why are you doing this?” Dew sobbed. “M-my eyes! What did you do to—”

“Shhh,” Anton said. “You’ll find out soon. Now drink.”

Dew didn’t have a choice but to gulp down whatever strange substance Anton had just given him. It tasted juicy, a strong sour, yet empty and cloudy at the same time. He all so suddenly felt lightheaded and dull, thoughts sizzling out into nothing. His head felt foggy, and he felt far, far away.

Dew didn’t know what happened after that.

. . .

In situations like this, during experiments like these, it was easy for Anton to get carried away, fueled with the excitement of creating something new. It was easy to be blinded by the power he held, and forget all about how his poor test subject felt. Experiments like these were what fueled him, what reminded him of why he still did this in the first place. Testing the limits of the human body, creating things nobody ever thought possible. This was why he loved science.

Not a single ounce of hesitation went through Anton’s mind when he took out a spoon and brought it to his test subject’s face. Right now, Dew was completely out of it. He wouldn’t remember any of this, which was a huge relief. At least he wouldn’t feel what was about to happen.

Anton brought the spoon closer to Dew’s glossy eyes. And…

Whatever was in that glowing blue liquid seemed to have worked, creating a link between the eye and the brain, no optic nerve needed. He was holding his test subject’s left eye in his hands. His eye.

It was easy to assume there was no coming back from this. Dew may as well have just lost an eye. But Anton was sure he’d be able to pop it back in place eventually, that was part of the experiment, after all.

He held the slimey, squishy, disgusting thing in his hands. It stared back at him, brown eye wide and still and petrified. It disgusted him. It made him feel sick to his stomach at the thought of permanently making Dew lose an eye. But the thought of this experiment being a success outweighed any guilt or remorse he felt, replacing it with the exhilarating thrill he’d been searching for. He held the eye between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a slight squeeze, just to see how it felt. If this experiment went right, everything would change.

He talked into the tape recorder as he prepared for the next step. An injection here, a bit of lasering there, he worked quickly and meticulously, lost in his own world. Once he was ready, he popped Dew’s eye back into place, and repeated the steps with the other one. One last injection with another strange substance, and Anton stepped back to take a look at his handy work. If all went well, things would start happening any minute now.

And he was right.

All of a sudden, Dew started writhing against the restraints, screaming at the top of his lungs. The straps keeping him restrained to the table pulled taut, and Anton was glad he decided to make them extra tight this time. Feathers flew everywhere as he flapped his wings in the midst of the struggle. The sound of nails scraping against metal filled Anton’s ears, but that was nothing compared to the screams. Anton hadn’t hurt such visceral, gut-wrenching screams in a long time. It made him feel sick, but he couldn’t stop watching.

All too quickly, something bubbled its way to the surface of Dew’s skin, bursting out of his forehead with a pop. There was minimal blood, to Anton’s surprise and relief, and he was almost sad that it had happened so quickly.

And then, eerie silence. Dew collapsed down against the table, limp and heavy, erratic breathing turning deep and calm.

Anton approached him slowly, heart pounding through his chest. On the center of Dew’s forehead was an eye. Wide and bloodshot, staring directly at him.

. . .

A few hours later, Anton watched his test subject stir awake, unrestrained and laying flat on the table. He was at his side in an instant, ready to provide painkillers or sedatives or even comfort if needed.

“Dew? Are you awake?”

“Y-Yeah,” Dew said, still feeling groggy. He looked around and started to panic. “I… I can’t see anything—”

“There are bandages covering your eyes, it’s okay. You’re okay. Just calm down.’’

“W-what did you do to me?”

“We’ll talk about that later. First, tell me how you feel.”

“I…” The lack of sight caused Dew to panic as he remembered what was happening before he blacked out.

“Dew,” Anton said, putting his hands on Dew’s shoulders. “Calm down. I’m here. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Y-you— my eyes!” Dew cried, twisting out of Anton’s grip. “What did you do to my eyes?!”

Anton swallowed thickly. This was not going well. “I’ll tell you later. Are you in any pain?”

“I-I… kinda? Everything’s still- still weird. Like, numb, almost. What did y-you do to me?”

“Hm, okay. That’s to be expected.”

Dew flinched in surprise as he felt the scientist grab his arm. “H-hey, what—”

“I’m just giving you something to help you relax. Stay still.”

Not being able to see only caused Dew to focus harder on the injection, unable to drown it out. Dew tensed as he felt a needle enter his skin, and choked back a sob when he felt the sting of the contents entering his body. But, like always, it was over as soon as it began.

“There, that wasn’t so bad,” Anton said. “I should check on your eyes. Try to relax, okay?”

Dew nodded, and Anton peeled the bandage off slowly. He sucked in a breath the second light hit eyes, and he batted the scientist’s hand away.

“Too bright!”

Anton winced. “Sorry.”

“Wait—” Dew lifted his hands up to his eyes and peeled the bandage off. He slowly peaked out, and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized he could still see. Thank fuck. Anton dimmed the lights, but everything still hurt to look at, so Dew covered his eyes again. “I-I can see fine, but- but it hurts.”

“We might need to keep those bandages on for a few weeks, while they heal, and just while your brain and body gets used to… a new eye. “You can handle that, right?””

Dew’s heart skipped a beat. “A— a what?” He squeaked.

“Another eye, Dewey.” He heard it in his voice that Anton was smiling wide. It made him shudder. “I made you grow another eye. On your forehead.”

“What?”

“That’s not the only thing, don’t worry. There’ll be more changes in the coming weeks, which is why the bandages have to stay on. It’s gonna be great.” Dew flinched as he felt the scientist’s hand gently ruffle his hair.

“O-okay.” Dew nodded, numb to it all. A new eye. He didn’t want to think about it. He was just thankful his vision wasn’t gone completely, a few weeks of darkness wouldn’t be too bad.

“Oh yeah!” Anton exclaimed, putting a cold bowl of something in Dew’s hands. “Ice cream, like I promised.”

“Th-thanks,” Dew said. It was vanilla, not his favorite, but he realized he didn't remember the last time he’d eaten ice cream, so he’d take what he could get.

Once Dew was done eating, Anton gently lifted him up and started walking to his room. He wrapped his arms tightly around Anton’s shoulders as a way to balance himself, disorientated from not being able to see and afraid of being dropped. He felt the scientist gently petting his back, probably trying to be comforting. Dew was carried up the stairs, through the door, and gently set into bed. He put his knees to his chest and reached a hand up to itch at his bandages, but Anton quickly stopped him.

“Don’t touch your bandages.” Anton reminded him, holding his wrist away from his face.

“They’re really itchy,” Dew said. “Do I really have to keep them on?”

“Yes. Your eyes need to heal.” Anton sighed. “I don’t wanna do this but… I don’t know if I can fully trust you either.”

“Do what?”

Dew flinched as he felt something rough and scratchy brush against his wrist that the scientist was holding, wrapping around it tightly. “Hey! What are—” He weakly pulled away, but Anton was stronger.

“Calm down. It’s just so you don’t mess with your eyes while you sleep. I can’t risk this going wrong.”

Dew looked down and allowed Anton to tie both of his wrists together behind his back. “There. That’s not so bad.”

“Easy for you to say…” Dew grumbled, flopping into bed. He curled into a ball, and the scientist tucked him under the covers. He thought he must look so defenseless like this, eyes covered, body restrained, completely unable to see anything coming. He hated being this vulnerable.

Anton petted his head softly, and smiled when Dew leaned into it. Dew wasn’t his clone, but he was still as cute as ever.

“Goodnight, Dewey.”

Dew heard the scientist leave the room and close the door. The click of the lock echoing through his ears. He heard footsteps get farther and farther away from his room, and assumed Anton had already turned the lights off and left the lab. He was alone.

Dew laid there on his bed, unable to move his arms that were restrained behind his back. He was still groggy from the drugs, dozing in and out of consciousness while he tried to focus on anything else but the incessant itching of the bandages and pain in his eyes. But it was dead silent in his room and he wasn’t even able to turn his music on. Unable to see, move, or hear anything, Dew was left to wallow in his own mind until he drifted off into a deep sleep.

. . .

Now that it was late at night, and Anton was by himself, the events of the day had caught up to him. It must’ve been so scary for his test subject, painful as well. Anton had to admit he was a bit blinded by the thrill of the experiment for a moment, and didn’t stop to think about how Dew was feeling. He could tell how much he was hurting, such a distressing and risky experiment would do that, he should’ve been more careful.

Anton felt disgusted with himself. But it’d be okay. Dew would forgive him eventually, and they’d move on, like they always did.

“Hey Anton, are you okay?” Sasha asked. They seemed to always see right through him.

“Yea—” No, he had waited long enough, it was time to tell his friend the truth. “No, I mean… Dew’s back.”

“...What?”

Anton fidgeted with the hem of his sweater. “I brought him back. Your guys' escape plan failed. I’m sorry.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t feel bad. It was inevitable. And there was no way he could live a normal life out there with his wings. I’m just… trying to protect him.”

They were quiet for a moment, then, “Can I see him?”

“He’s asleep right now and… I think it’d be best to leave him alone for now. After the experiment today… he needs time to heal from it. I can’t have anything interfering with the results. Though… maybe after a week or two, some enrichment would be good for him. I know you two are friends, it’s not right to keep you apart.”

“Will he be okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I think so.”

“Well, that’s good. Tell him I said hi?”

Anton smiled. “I will.”

“G’night, Anton.”

“Goodnight.”

— 

eyes are so strange and wacky am i right

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[lumpywhump]

Whump idea I had.

Organ theft but Whumpee is awake for it. Bonus if they are afraid of needles or medical procedures

Tw: blood

"one two three all eyes on me! Okay kids," whumper clapped. "For our lab we got Subject 188236. Everyone say "hi Subject 188236!"

"...hi subject 188326..." whumper was the most insufferable professor on campus.

muffled cries called from the steel table. Whumpee squinted at the harsh lights, so they could see the people around them. Students in white lab coats and goggles watched them from every corner of their field of vision.

"Today you get no instructions. You'll tell me what to do, and I'll be your arms. We are harvesting it's heart." Whumper looked around, "Student A, how do we start?

"Like are we assuming everything is set up for us to just start cutting?"

whumper nodded.

"Then you need to make a 6-8 inch incision on the chest wall,"

"Perfect,"

Whumpee whimpered as whumper pressed their scalpel to whumpee's chest.

"Based off this subjects size, Student B, how big of an incision should I make?"

"Uhh, I wanna say somewhere between seven and eight?"

"Okay then, I'll go right in the middle,"

whumpee cried out as the teacher slowly ripped open their chest, blood collecting around the cut. Their breath quickened, but relief poured through them as whumper withdrew their tool.

"Oh no! Looks like our subject is panicking, I can't accurately open their chest like this. What do we do now?"

"Have someone nearby calm them down?" Student A answered.

"Student D, your turn,"

"The best way to calm them down is with assurance and distractions. May I?"

"All yours,"

Whumpee felt someone touch their head. They flinched, their chest throbbing worse with the motion.

"hey, it's okay, you're doing well so far, but it's going to hurt more if you don't calm down,"

All whumpee really heard was hurt more. Their eyes watered, stinging their dry eyes.

Student D retreated away, knowing they made things worse.

"it's okay, we all make mistakes. Student E? Wanna give it a shot?"

A hand covered Whumpee's eyes. They reached to pull the hand away, scared by the sudden darkness, but their hands were still restrained. Another hand began to massage their temples. And man, this was probably the nicest thing someone has done in a while. The newer people tended to be kinder. Whumpee couldn't help but relax, in fact, they almost fell asleep.

"good job," whumper whispered, making sure not to disturb whumpee. "Keep going,"

Whumpee whined as Whumper finished the cut, but they relaxed again when Student E begins trailing their nails along whumpee's buzzed scalp.

"what's next?"

"ethh ate," whumpee mumbled with the gag tied around their head.

"what was that?" Whumper asked. Whumpee moved their jaw, referencing the gag.

"Now," whumper returned to their normal speaking volume. "You really shouldn't ever do this, because sometimes subjects are prone to biting or saying things that they really shouldn't, but 188236 tends to be good. When you all work in this industry, you'll learn when it is and isn't okay to do this."

Whumpee felt hands grab the gag and pull it down.

"what did you say?"

"Next you open the breast plate, then the ribs, disconnect the heart from the arteries, blah blah blah. Please, I'm tired, just please get this over with." Their tears wetted Student E's hand. the hands released whumpee's head.

"Whumper... I don't think I can do this,"

Whumper sighed. "And this is my fault. This is another reason we don't normally remove the gag...... why don't we stop for today? We can do this again next class." Whumper smiled at their students.

Once whumper was left alone with whumpee, they turned to them. "Looks like you get off easy today huh?"

whumpee didn't respond.

"Let's wrap your chest so you don't get blood everywhere,"

[whump-bunny]

Can't think

(tw: lab whump, nonconsensual drugging, restraints, nonconsensual medical procedures, fourteen year old whumpee, mentions of torture.)

-

He can't think.

He can't think and he doesn't know why.

They came in at dawn, when he and his roommates were fast asleep. (Well, Oliver probably wasn't.) The room was pitch black, save for the soft glow of Asa's skin.

They didn't give him time to wake up before plunging a needle into his neck. And then, when he did awaken only seconds later, it was already too late. Asa could only blink at them sluggishly as they picked him up and deposited him in a wheelchair.

And now he's moving, far too fast and far too slow all at once. The walls blur into the floor. The world spins. Nausea licks at his throat, and yet he can’t muster up the energy to say anything in complaint.

His head lolls down to his chest.

He can’t think. God, why can’t he think?

Vaguely, he knows that he’s headed to the lab. He knows that they’re going to hurt him. He should be afraid. But he’s lost in a place where the fear can’t find him. And all that’s left is an overbearing sense of calm, an inability to do anything but sink into his mind and allow his body to be carried away. It’s peaceful, in the same way that a room full of corpses is quiet.

They arrive quicker than Asa expected they would. (Even though the ride over seemed to have lasted an eternity.) The hum of the fluorescent lights and the murmurs of scientists blur in the background of his mind, and he finds himself drifting off to sleep. At least, until a familiar voice cuts through the quiet like a knife.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, I know it’s early, but the quicker we do this, the quicker we can be done with it. Are ya with me?” Hamlin chirps, somehow as energetic as ever despite being up before sunrise. The rest of the scientists offer a chorus of unenthused agreement. It seems that Asa isn’t the only one who’d rather be in bed.

The doctor chats with a couple assistants, making her rounds about the lab, before finally turning her attention to Asa, as he knew she would.

“Good morning, Asa! Sorry about waking you so early, but I promise you’ll get to go back to sleep soon.” She gingerly brushes Asa’s bangs from his face, and while Asa would normally bristle at the touch, now he can’t bring himself to even care. He eyes Hamlin intently, as if staring at her might give him the strength to be angry. It doesn’t. 

Hamlin says something else that Asa doesn't quite catch, and then he's being lifted. The sudden motion makes him want to vomit, but it only lasts a few seconds before he's lying on the lab table. He doesn't fight as they strap him down, not that he could stop them even if he weren't drugged out of his mind. All he can manage is a frustrated growl, one that gets Hamlin's attention. 

"I know, the side effects of that sedative are pretty strong, but it's the only one that works well enough against your Light. We don't want you waking up during surgery, do we?" She explains, methodically sliding into latex gloves and goggles as she does so. 

So it's surgery, then.

Amidst the murky haze of drugs, Asa feels a spike of fear at that. He swallows thickly, searching for his voice.

“H… H’mlin?" He mumbles, trying to ignore how big his tongue feels in his mouth. Hamlin's eyebrows raise.

"Oh, you can still speak? Huh, that's not particularly good. Might have to adjust the dosage…"

Asa speaks up again before she can finish the thought, "What are you g'na do t'me?"

It's a normal question, one that he asks every time he gets dragged to the lab. Usually Hamlin will grace him with a detailed explanation of exactly how she plans to study him for the next few hours. Be it a simple blood test or an appendectomy, she always tells him with a smile. But today, she just shakes her head.

"It's probably better if you don't know. We don't want you to freak out, do we?" She replies, punctuating her sentence with another ruffle to Asa’s hair.

Asa’s stomach falls, "Oh."

"Oh? That's it?” Hamlin laughs, “Damn, you're much nicer to work with like this. I wish I could keep you sedated all the time."

If he were more aware, Asa probably would have flinched at the implications of that. But exhaustion smothers his brain, derailing his train of thought 

"I…" Asa mumbles, eyes drooping. "M'tired…"

Hamlin smirks, "I'm sure you are. Feel free to go to sleep, sweetheart. I'll get the actual anesthesia started in the meantime." She runs her hand along the side of his face, caressing his cheek like a mother would. As if she didn't cut him open without anesthesia a hundred times before now.

"O...okay…" Asa says, inadvertently leaning into her touch. He doesn't even notice as an iv is inserted into his arm.

"Say, Asa, do you have a favorite food? Something you want me to bring you while you're in recovery?" She asks. Her hand never leaving his cheek.

Asa thinks for a moment, landing on the first food that comes to mind. "...doughnuts."

"Doughnuts?" Hamlin laughs, "Well, it's not exactly healthy, but I suppose you can have a doughnut, for being such a good boy."

Beside her, an assistant scoffs.

"Of course he's being good, he's drugged out of his mind." He says, rubbing the healing wound on his arm from when Asa bit him a couple days ago.

Hamlin glares, finally removing her hand from Asa’s face. "Hm yeah, good point, Ted. Counterpoint: who asked you?"

The two bicker amongst themselves, while the rest of the assistants continue to prep Asa for surgery. All the while Asa's eyes scan the trays of scalpels and tweezers, gleaming in the too-bright artificial light of the lab. Fear is radiating and muted, muffled but there all the same. 

"H-H'mlin…" 

The scientist turns to face him, "Hm- yes, Asa?"

"I… m'scared…" He whispers, consciousness fleeting. "Pl'se don't… 'lease don't 'urt me…"

His voice breaks, tears threatening to fall. Hamlin clicks her tongue, wiping his eyes.

"Aww, don't worry, sweetheart. I promise you won't feel a thing. And you'll get to have a nice relaxing vacation while you recover. Sound good?"

"N-no…"

Hamlin smirks. "Too bad."

It's then that the drugs in his iv finally take hold. The world fades to darkness, and all the while Hamlin stares at him, smiling wide.

[jordanstrophe]

Behave, 13: The Lab

[Masterlist]

CW: Whumper hospital, medical whump, collapse/comfort, extremally protective/possessive whumper turned caretaker, rescued whumpee

Whumpee could hear alarms screaming behind them; flashes of red reflected off the back of whumper’s jacket. They had an iron grip around their wrist pulling them deeper into the woods. Whumpee heard shouting and tried to look back at the hospital. 

“Don’t look back, keep moving.” Whumper tugged them forwards. 

Whumpee had already run out of energy, whumper slowed down when they heard them wheeze every other breath. Whumpee suddenly stumbled forwards and clung to whumper’s jacket. 

“Are you okay?” Whumper slowed to a stop. Whumpee tried to raise their head, the woods around them distorted and the alarms sounded further then they were. Whumper suddenly grabbed both their shoulders and pulled them closer. 

“Whumpee, are you okay?” They shook them a little and that was enough to buckle their knees as whumper caught them. 

“I-  I can’t breathe.” Whumpee grabbed their throat. Whumper ripped their hand away from their neck before they choked themselves. “Damn it... We can’t stay here.” They glanced between whumpee and the hospital with a sigh.

“Look at me, I need you to slow your breathing and take deep breaths. Don’t stop, okay?” 

Before they could respond, whumper pulled them by their arm over their shoulder and picked them off the ground. Normally, they would scream and retaliate, but anytime they moved their head felt like static. 

Whumper became worried when whumpee was deathly still. They were used to kicking or crying, and it wasn’t long before they realized that they had fallen completely unconscious. 

Worrying as that may be, perhaps it would make the trip a little easier.

------

Whumpee jolted awake in a smudged laboratory. It was similar to where they’ve been waking up to for the past month, but... This one was much different. 

They weren't restrained, for one. They were laying on a stained gurney that unstably rocked when they tried to sit up. It was dark and a single dim light kept the room luminated. They were wrapped in a blanket from the chest down and an IV pricked their arm. Someone had put a cold cloth behind their neck; it was still damp. 

Whumpee groaned and clutched their head trying to remember what had happened. Was the escape even real? They tried to sit up but knocked the IV stand over as it slammed to the ground. The sound was deafening; whumpee winced and covered their ears with a whimper. Even after the noise was gone they heard echoes of it ringing in their ears. 

“What happened?  Are you alright?”    They heard a drowning voice. 

They opened their eyes to whumper crouched in front of them gently touching their forehead.

“Wh-where are we?” Whumpee tried to brush their hand off. Whumper let them and set a glass of water down.

“One of our old abandoned labs. It used to belong to my company until one of the experiments went a little-...” They paused and looked at the ransacked state of the place. “-Out of control.” They sighed. “But, it’ll work as a hideout. Plus some of the equipment is still usable. Or at least repairable.” They coughed. “How are you feeling?” 

Whumpee’s eyes traced the room trying to put together exactly what happened. “I think I’m doing better... But you... Did you get us out?” They asked. Whumper nodded and adjusted the IV in whumpee’s arm and picked up the stand. 

“We still have a problem.” Whumper mumbled. “The plan's still the same. You’re sick and I’m curing you.” They started rummaging through old machinery and tossing out expired medical supplies. 

“Only if you tell me everything.” Whumpee spoke from behind. “Tell me everything about the sickness, why was that whole place dedicated to curing me? What would you, or anyone have to gain for that? I’m nobody...” Whumpee muttered. 

“No.” Whumper turned back and reached for their cheek. “You’re not nobody, whumpee. You’re everything.” They gently laid them back against the gurney and pulled the blanket up. “And everything I’ve put you through, I guess I owe you some answers.” 

“All of them.” Whumpee corrected. 

“Yes, yes fine!... All of them. What do you want next, some popcorn?” 

Whumpee gave them their signature sarcastic look. 

“Well at least sip your water while I talk. You were dehydrated and that’s why you collapsed in the woods. Good grief, the doctor took horrible care of you...” 

((Annnnd I’m going to have to cut this into a part 1/2 so to be continued, thank you all for your patience with the series. Next chapter will be out very soon!))

@serialobsesssor @fishtale88  @bluesoulpeace  roblingoblin285   @echo-of-umbra @whump-bunny  @pretty-little-whump @akaijisatsu  @whatiswhump @shannon-foraker  @whumpkitty @suspicious-whumping-egg @whatwhumpcomments  @whumpdreamz @elletheclover @whumpinhereyes  @veyroswin @dustypinetree  @anonintrovert  @cepheusgalaxy @cyborg0109 @whatwhumpcomments @whatiswhump​

[radioactive-earthshine]

New Kon Fic "One Weak Later" now available on AO3

Chapters 6/6 Words: 10,492 Rating: Teen and Up Category: Gen Relationships: Bart & Kon, Kon & John Henry Irons, Kon & Tim, Kon & Cassie Sandsmark Characters: Kon El, John Henry Irons, Tim Drake, Cassie Sandsmark, Bart Allen, Tags: Kon El Centric, Angst, WHUMP, Melancholy, PTSD (see fic for full tags)

Summary

"Kon tried not to think about the future they all saw while they were ping-ponging through time - the year 2020 where the video archives showed their adult selves in their 30s fighting yet another war. All of them except Bart. Up until about a week ago Kon wrote the entire thing off as ludicrous and a sick and twisted joke pulled on them by time itself. But now… now…

Bart was in a coma, and he would not wake up."

War was war, and there never were any real winners. Particularly not for Kon as his mental health spirals following the Our Worlds at War event due to his guilt for being responsible for marooning his team on Apokolips. With kind and firm words from John Henry, Cassie's blunt compassion and even Bart haunting him, Kon struggles to find himself after the war.

Kon can forgive anyone, but can he forgive himself?

Excerpt

Earth wasn’t anything like how he remembered it was when he returned with his friends. Metropolis, his most beloved city, was pockmarked by the war with a haunted population that looked at him with distant eyes and made him feel like he really did step through a looking glass into another world. Even Martha Kent’s kind smile and gentle love to him was through a haze of gray and grief that washed her light out. The more guilty and paranoid part of his mind was certain it was because they were looking at a murderer, and they knew it. 

They all knew he killed Bart. His clone. Didn’t matter. Someone died that day on Apokolips. Multiple people. The Lobo clones. They all were dead because he couldn’t accept the mission he was given, and in an effort to save Steel’s life that didn’t even need saving, he instead crashed all of them on the worst planet in the universe. Less than six hours later, several hundred Lobo clones were a bloody biomass and Bart was a crumpled spasming husk. 

If Kon could have switched places with Bart, he would have, because it was his fault and Bart didn’t deserve this and… “He’s going to get better,” said Cissie as they visited Bart in his bone bleach white hospital room at STAR Labs. She sat on the bed near his large feet and rubbed his blanketed shin gently, her blue eyes glassy.   Bart, the person that Kon remembered as a bright and loud hurricane thunderclap more free than the wind, was a thin limp corpse, imprisoned in a bed and abused by his own biology. As Kon looked at Bart, he intrusively remembered the end of the real Little Mermaid story where the mermaid melted into seafoam and how serene a death it must have been, and those white blankets and pillows Bart melted into could have been bits of foam and ocean as he faded away from life.  But Bart clung fiercely to life as the machines he was hooked to beeped in disjointed harmony. 

I had to lock down all my fics due to AI Scraping so this is only visible to registered users only.

The title is spelled like that on purpose.

[whump-place]

♤ Intro ♤

Hi! I'm Moon, 22, i go by she/her most of the time but you can call me they/them too.

I'm not really a good writer but i try, and most of the time i'll only post things that come to my mind. I post mainly whump prompts and fake scenarios. I'd love to someday share stories with some of my ocs related to whump too.

Anyways, i hope you enjoy and that you can send me your own whump prompts :)

I would also be very happy if you want to tag me in any whump series, oneshots and basically anything related to whump that you might be writing!

Favourites captivity/kidnapping, soft whump, whumpee turned whumper, pet whump, conditionating, vampire whump, torture, protective caretaker, soft whumper, villain whumpee, whumpee thinks caretaker is their new master, etc.

Things i don't like that much forced to watch, caretaker turned whumpee, stockholm syndrome, sleep deprivation, non-con, lab whump.

(I think that i'm missing lots of things here, but eh. I hope everyone feels welcome here. Drink water and eat healthy please ♤)

Masterlist of all my Masterlists.

Series I'm currently working on:

*for any of my series, if you wanna send a prompt for them or a head canon of any of the characters please send it to me and I'll do my best to reply :)

---

Bad to Worse to... Comfort? Masterlist

A CYOA where you are a hero that just rescued a Whumpee from their owner.

-No institutionalized pet whump.

-Caretaker New Master.

---

Yahani And Melkien Masterlist.

A society where some people are blessed with superpowers, there are heroes and villains, but that just makes the corruption and power abuse increase.

-Villain Whumpee.

-Hero Whumper.

-Oblivious Whumper.

---

Adopted. Masterlist.

Pet Whumpee being adopted and introduced to their new family, they learn that their new family isn't quite what they were expecting.

-Multiple Whumpees.

-Caretaker new Master.

-Forced to Whump.

---

Glass doll.

Pet Whumpee that gets a soft Caretaker, being the light in his life. That's it until he gets a new Pet, and things start to get completely different at how Pet is used to.

-Institutionalized pet whump.

-Multiple whumpees.

-Lady Whumpee.

-Bad Caretaker.

---

Masterlist of all my drabbles: (pet whump, conditioned Whumpee, bad caretaker, etc)

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Shrink Arinn and give to Shae :)

Shrink Ray

CW: tiny whumpee, demon whumpee, captivity, experimentation, lab whump, shrunk, tail whump, broken bones, dislocation, caretaking, pain medicine, passing out, open ended

----

"What a rare one you are," the self-proclaimed scientist muses. He looms over Arinn, who is now mere inches tall and lying terrified on the lab table.

The man takes the demon's tail between his fingers in a way he probably considers gentle, but to Arinn it's like being clamped in a vise. When he cries out and tries to squirm out of his grip, it only tightens. Brittle bones snap like twigs and Arinn wails at the top of his tiny lungs.

"Where to put you..."

To Arinn's horror, his captor lifts him from the table. Even at this size his weight is too much for his fragile, broken tail. It pulls taut and pops as several joints dislocate at once. The pain makes him dizzy and for a moment he forgets to breathe.

By the time he is set inside a tank, Arinn is almost hyperventilating. He can't move his tail, can only feel it throb and twitch on the ground. A shadow falls over him when the man puts the enclosure's lid back on and locks it tight. Then the whole room darkens as he turns out the lights and leaves.

The moment he is gone Arinn hears the patter of tiny footsteps approaching. Through his blurry vision he just barely makes out a figure kneeling beside him.

"Are you okay?"

Arinn can't answer. He gasps and reaches a trembling hand for his tail, wanting to hold it, soothe it, keep it safe...

His cellmate gasps too.

"Oh...that looks bad..."

Fingers that aren't his own touch Arinn's tail and he shakes his head urgently, whimpering "ah - please d-don't - it h-hurts..."

The touch disappears with a soft 'sorry!' from its source.

"I'm Shae," says that same little voice. "He caught me, too. What's your name?"

Arinn takes a few deep breaths. "Arinn."

"Hold on, Arinn...I have something that will help..."

Footsteps fade away again. Trembling, Arinn curls up on his side and watch as the little creature hurries into a fake, decorative cave-like structure. Inside sits half a pill. Shae chips some of it off with a sharp pebble and collects it into a cup the size of a thimble. Arinn closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again Shae has returned to his side.

"Can you sit up? I have medicine. For the pain."

Slowy, carefully, Arinn props himself up and leans back against the wall of the tank. He glances down at his tail and touches it gingerly. Then he looks at Shae, taking in his weary but kind face for the first time. Something about him eases Arinn's frayed nerves. He hands Arinn the cup full of water mixed with the crushed pill.

"It's human strength, so it's strong," he warns.

"Good," Arinn breathes. He drinks the whole thing in just a few gulps. Panting, he wipes his mouth on his arm and leans his head back against the glass.

Shae sits beside him and folds his hands in his lap.

"You'll be okay. He doesn't hurt us on purpose...usually. He just...collects us."

Arinn tips his head to one side to look at him.

"How long have you been here?" he asks.

"...too long." Shae pulls his knees up to his chest. "I don't even know what season it is."

"Spring."

"...then, almost a year."

Arinn feels sick at the thought. This is only one tank of many that take up shelves lining the whole room. He looks around and can make out other small figures in most of them. Some peer back at him from their own prisons, their gazes hollow and hopeless.

Alex will find me, he thinks. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on that thought, forcing himself to hang onto it no matter how impossible it seems.

Soon the medicine kicks in, bringing sweet relief. All the tension eases from him. He starts to droop to one side, and Shae catches him and eases him into his lap. He holds Arinn as he falls asleep.

[whumplump]

Day 31 of @augusnippets - Bonus day

Experiment, part 2

Part 1

CW: lab whump, mentioned vivisection, surgeon whumper, blood, testing, gaslighting, non con treatment

Here it is, for the total of 0 people who were waiting for a part 2.

The devil learns quickly. When night falls, he comes out from under the ground and comes to torment the weakest minds. This is how Whumper thinks and acts. He turned on the light in a room the same color as the rest of the building: white. It was a simple little room, less equipped than the rest of the other rooms. It was the auxiliary laboratory, where samples of all types of content were stored. He went to a refrigerator in the center of the room and from one of its shelves took out a tray with a dozen small transparent tubes. Blood samples. He placed the object on a table to evaluate it further. He lifted tube by tube, reading the names written on paper glued to the small glasses. Caretaker, no... Team Leader, no... Teammate, no... Whumpee. Yes.

He put the tray back in the fridge and left the room, taking the tube labeled Whumpee with him. He walked through the dull, white hallways. In the end, he entered a slightly calmer room, without tables full of surgical tools, with four hospital beds. Three were empty. Only one of them had someone lying down. A pale, malnourished youngling with a seriously unwell appearance. They had an IV connected to their arm, receiving saline solution, and some other electrodes stuck to their body. They were semi conscious. Whumper approached them with the tube in hand. He wasn't wearing his surgical mask, but the poor thing on the bed couldn't see his face because of the dizziness. Whumper gently tapped them on the shoulder to get their attention.

Whumpee looked up at the figure. They couldn't discern the shapes very well, but they could guess that the stranger was wearing a surgeon's outfit.

“How are you feeling, subject 32?"

Whumpee couldn't speak. They were dizzy and in a lot of pain, especially in the abdominal region. Whumper watched them for a moment before speaking again. He didn't really care if Whumpee was actually listening or not.

"Pay attention. I'm afraid you have a serious illness. I haven't finished all the tests yet, but watch," he brought the sample tube closer to Whumpee's face so they could see it. "See how dark your blood is.”

Whumpee couldn't make out the words very well, and didn't even know what it was in front of them. Whumper moved the tube out of their view.

"My first extraction attempt didn't work on you. You're very weak, 32. You passed out before I could complete the second incision. See."

He took a small photo from his pocket and held it in front of the patient's face. Whumpee's eyes widened at the image. It was their body, stretched out on a bed, with two incisions in their abdomen. They were still weak and medicated, but they gathered the strength to speak.

"What... What is this…?”

“My test.”

“Where am… Where am I?...”

“You are currently in the recovery ward. Since last week. I need you to be healthy to complete section 32 properly.”

“No..." Whumpee tried to move, but they were stopped by a sharp pain in their abdomen, thanks to the incisions that were being healed.

"You're sick, 32, that's for sure. Until I find out what you have, you'll be under observation in the recovery ward."

Whumpee looked at the surgeon with fearful eyes.

“What are you going to do to me...?"

Whumper reached out a hand and ran it through the patient's hair.

"Nothing for now. I just need to monitor you."

“No... I'm not sick..."

"Yes you are."

"Who are you?..."

Whumper didn't respond. He fixed the IV solution. From a drawer in the dresser next to the bed, he picked a small scalpel.

"If you don't believe me, see for yourself."

Whumpee looked at the knife in terror. They gathered all their strength to struggle on the bed.

"No! No!"

Whumper held them with one hand, careful for the incisions healing. With the other, he brought the scalpel closer to Whumpee's face…

The patient must see a practical demonstration.

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat: choose your own adventure #1

tllr au masterlist | tllr masterlist

umm yes hi i was NOT planning on making this at all but here it is! cyoa thing where we get to meet Anton for REAL and i’m very excited. these will be shorter than my usual writing since you all get to make the big decisions, sooo maybe weekly updates? we’ll see (also i’ll definitely come up with a different name for this eventually)

also if you’re new, you don’t have to have read tllr in order to read this :3 this works as its own thing!

content: you being followed, general weird and creepy vibes from the man himself (Anton), and most likely eventual lab whump in future parts :)

— 

It’s just like any other night. You’re mindlessly kicking a small rock down the dark and empty street you walk on, dodging the puddles in the concrete from the rain from earlier. The street lights glow dimly above you, giving you some light in the otherwise cloudy night.

You’re tired, and you would be listening to music through your earbuds during your nightly walk home from work, but your phone died. So, kicking a rock it is.

But not so much like any other night, you pretty quickly realize that you’re being followed.

You hear the pitter patter of footsteps coming from behind you, hurrying across pavement and rustling through dewy bushes. This had been going on for at least fifteen minutes by now, and at first you thought it was an animal, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that it wasn’t.

You stuff your hands in your pockets and try to just focus on getting home. Whoever was following you could have easily made a move by now if they were going to. But they hadn’t yet, so perhaps they were just messing with you? Some teenagers pulling a prank? You kick the rock harder, watching it fly farther down the street and give you an excuse to hurry your pace to catch up to it and kick it again.

You walk past another street light, and from the corner of your eye, the light behind you casts a shadow of a person, a lot closer behind you than you had thought.

Shit.

You are definitely being followed, and this person is definitely not going to just leave you alone.

Your heart speeds up, and you try to calm your breathing. Just keeping on walking won’t change anything, you have to do something.

Ready to face whoever it may be, you whirl around suddenly, apparently catching the stranger off guard as he freezes in place and looks at you with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” You ask, taking a careful step away from him. He was closer than you realized. Dangerously close.

The stranger stands up straight and clears his throat, putting his hands behind his back casually. “Just going for a midnight stroll.” He laughs awkwardly and steps closer to you. There’s a strange glint in his eyes and a wide smile on his face. It’s unsettling.

You continue to back away from him, narrowing your eyes. Now that you’re both in the light, you can get a better look at the strange man who was following you. He’s tall, taller than you, and he’s wearing a baggy black hoodie. His hood is up, making it hard to get a good look at his face, but you can still make out the thin scar across his left eye, and his black hair with a white stripe in the middle. His eyes shine bright despite the darkness, almost glowing.

You think you might recognise him from somewhere, but… you can’t quite place it.

“You were following me,” you say, and he blinks.

“No I wasn’t.”

“What- yes you were.” You take another step back.

“What brings you out here anyway?” He changes the subject. “It’s pretty late. It’s not safe to be out alone.” He takes another fucking step closer.

“I’m walking home,” you say, and your voice starts to waver. “What do you want?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “You looked like you could use some company.”

“…Oh.”

The man seems to be subtly surveying his surroundings, as are you. You have a horrible feeling in your gut. You have to get away.

The street in front of you stretches on, and will eventually lead to your apartment. If you make a run for it, you might make it there before this guy inevitably catches you. You don’t wanna think about what would happen if he does.

Yes, it’s an if. This guy might be completely normal and innocent like he says. He genuinely might be going on a peaceful walk and just decided to chat with you for some reason. Weird, but you suppose we’re all a little weird at the end of the day. He might not have any devious plans for you at all.

But if he does… would leading him straight to your home really be the best idea? Maybe you should go a different route, run through the trees and try to lose him in the darkness.

The other option, of course, is to make sure he doesn’t follow you home. Now, this guy doesn’t look very strong, but it’s obviously impossible to tell under all that clothing. You don’t know if you could take him in a fight, and you’re not sure you want to try.

You swallow thickly. He’s just smiling at you. His hands are still behind his back. You fear that if you turn your back to him, you’ll soon find out exactly what he’s hiding.

next

— 

this is very fun so i’m gonna try my best to do weekly updates :) i’m also doing a new taglist for this, so please let me know if you’d like to be added!

taglist: @creppersfunpalooza

[iriel3000]

Hurry, She Needs You

Summary: Natasha becomes ill from what they think is food poisoning. Tony and Bruce try to care for her until Clint arrives home from a deep cover mission. Part 1 of 6

Whumptober Day 1: Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Natasha whump, light whump, eventual happy ending

“OK, I made my speech. I'm ready to leave." Tony Stark loosened his silk, Ferragamo tie and unbuttoned the top of his white dress shirt.

"Photo op with the Board of Directors and then we can go." His sultry companion tossed her long red hair over her shoulder, surveying the room.

New York’s finest came out for the city’s annual Public Works Charity Auction. Natasha had agreed to accompany Tony while Pepper was at the Clean Energy Conference in Chicago.

"Really?" He asked, eyes lighting up. "Pepper always makes me stay and schmoose."

"Do you want me to act like your wife tonight?" Natasha arched an eyebrow and toyed with her empty rocks glass.

"That's a loaded question, Agent Romanov." He smirked and signaled for another drink.

“If anything,” Tony lowered his voice, “I need you to use your skills on Aldrich Killian. There are whispers he’s experimenting with biologicals and I want to know what he’s up to.”

“Maybe the next party. I’m tasked to only one crazy billionaire tonight.”

"Aren't I the lucky one?” Stark raked his eyes over her elegant figure.

Natasha wore a simple yet sexy little black dress with a diamond necklace, earrings and a plain black band on her right ring finger. He joked that the ring had a hidden needle full of poison inside.

“Aldrich couldn’t handle you in that dress tonight, anyway.” That got a smirk out of her. “Speaking of simps, where’s Barton?”

Her face softened, becoming almost wistful.

“Too far.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark.” A waiter interrupted and held out a short glass with clear liquid, another sat on a small tray. “Compliments of Mr. Killian.”

Tony looked across the room at Aldrich then turned away from his top competitor and rolled his eyes.

Natasha accepted both, thanked the young man and downed the first drink in one gulp. She held up the second and toasted to Killian in thanks.

“He doesn’t look pleased that I drank his expensive liquor.”

“I'm sure he wanted to see me choke on it.”

“Bitter finish,” she scrunched her nose, “I did you a favor.”

The host of the evening announced a silent auction would begin in ten minutes.

“Romanov, get us out of here.”

“Follow me.” Natasha stood but quickly put a hand to her forehead.

“You okay?” Tony jumped to her side when she swooned and grabbed for the edge of the table.

Tony laced his arm through hers. She giggled.

“Wait. Are you drunk?”

"No.” Natasha yanked her arm free, wobbling a little as she did so.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" He’d seen Natasha drink way more than tonight but never slur or stumble.

"Funny. Do you want to leave? Or do you want me to announce that the after party is at your house?” She turned towards the podium.

“No, no.” He stopped her. “No more jokes. Get us out of here.”

On the ride home, Natasha was quiet. Tony kept from commenting on the fine sheen of sweat glistening over her face and neck or how she kept her eyes closed, making little noises with every turn of the car.

He had his own private entrance to his penthouse but offered to ride up with Nat.

“I’m fine.” She clipped and fumbled into the elevator.

Tony hovered until the number to her floor stopped and started back down. The doors opened.

The empty compartment should have made him feel better, but it didn't.

Stark wandered down to his basement lab and poured a scotch, contemplating on how to check on his favorite bodyguard without her knowing he was checking on her.

Hey. he texted. Does William Tell know we went on a date?

Waiting for a reply, Tony flipped on the news and opened his new software system, an advanced A. I. program he’d been working on for the Tower.

Glancing at his phone, he frowned. No response yet. He tried again.

Breakfast in the morning? Happy wants to go over the new security install with you.

His knee bounced impatiently waiting for a response.

At the five minute mark, Tony called for Jarvis.

“Jarvis, security override, Stark616. What is the status of Agent Romanov?”

“Agent Romanov’s heart rate and blood pressure are abnormal. Vitals indicate she is unconscious, sir.”

Tony raced to the elevator.

“Agent Romanov is in Agent Barton’s quarters, the master bathroom.”

Tony would’ve enjoyed that little piece of information any other time, right now, he needed to know Nat was okay.

Rushing through Clint’s apartment, Tony burst into the bathroom.

“Oh my God, Natasha.” She was unconscious on the floor. “Nat, wake up! Jarvis, call Bruce!”

tbc...entire story will be posted below after part 6

Hurry, She Needs You

[whump-bunny]

Asa's Light - Masterpost

The LRA (Light Research Association) is an organization dedicated to the containment and study of individuals with LIT3 gene-related mutation(s) (commonly known as "Light"). Approximately 1 in 1,000,000,000 births are Light positive. Under federal law, all individuals with Light are to be fully surrendered to LRA care. Failure to do so can result in fines and/or incarceration.

If you or someone you know is aware of an individual with Light and turn them in willingly, you may be entitled to a monetary reward.

-

Welcome to the world of Asa's Light! If you like angst, lab whump, and crying, you've come to the right place. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! And if you have any requests/writing prompts, I am always open!

Meet the Characters:

Asa

Liam

Charlie

Oliver

Mari

Dr. Hamlin

Adam

Bella

Oneshots/scenes:

Facility Arc:

Can’t Think (Drugged Whumpee, creepy Whumper, Lab Whump)

A Failed Escape (Parental/delusional Whumper, Manhandling, sedatives)

Blood-letting Arc:

Bloody Hands (Murder, Unwilling Living Weapon, Parental Whumper) (With Artwork)

New World Arc:

A Choice to Make (Imprisonment, two Whumpees, living weapon)

-

Art Commissions Link

[chaotic-orphan]

June of Doom, Day Twenty-One:

On three : dehydration // memory loss // choke

CW: torture (explicit), drowning (explicit), choking on water (explicit), memory loss, panic attack (explicit), dehydration (described), PTSD, lab Whump (implied), kind of dissociative episode/ derealisation of Whumpee, blood (mentioned), general violence, cruel Whumper, emotional whump,

*~*~*~*~*

“I don’t want to do it,” said Hero, “I just had a shower.”

“Well I don’t want to do it,” Other Hero hissed. “I did it last time.”

“Yeah but last time was different,” said Hero, matter-of-factly. “You got there first.”

“Because you were dragging your feet!”

“You didn’t tell me we were gonna be running on sand! Not all of us are athletic!”

“You look fairly athletic to me,” said Villain who currently tied to the chair. Hero turned to them, eyes wide and smiling with the compliment.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah,” said Villain honestly.

Hero blushed then batted their hand through the air, “I’m sure you say that to all your kidnappers.”

Villain leaned back in their chair, exposing their chest and grinned a wolffish grin. “Don’t get kidnapped a lot, not gonna lie. Most people don’t catch me off guard.”

“Well I’m not most people,” said Hero and Villain let out a breathy chuckle.

“You most certainly are not.”

“Well you’re not too bad yourself,” Hero purred. “You work out?”

Villain’s grin got wider, extending to his eyes, “when I’m not trying to do crime I do what I can.”

“No you can tell,” said Hero, with a sultry smile of their own.

Other Hero watched the exchange with their mouth wide open. “You can’t just flirt with the Villain!”

Hero looked back at Other Hero, shooting a glare at their interruption. “We’re trying to have a conversation here.”

“No,” said Other Hero grabbing Hero by the elbow and turning them to face Other Hero again. “We’re trying to have an interrogation here.”

“Exactly,” said Hero, looking over their shoulder and winking at Villain. “I’m trying find out when he’s free for drinks.”

“I’m a little tied up right now,” Villain said and Other Hero made a gagging sound. “But after my day is clear.”

“It’s a date,” Hero said with a wink and turned back to Other Hero. Other Hero rolled their eyes, tutting out loud and walked closer to Villain. Villain’s demeanour changed immediately. Both Heroes noticed.

“Oh, I know you,” said Villain to Other Hero, and Hero glanced at them. “Do you remember your days in Mecha?”

Other Hero froze at the mention of the name and Hero stepped in front of them protectively as if Villain had attacked Other Hero physically and not psychologically.

Other Hero hadn’t heard that name in years and hoped to never hear it again. The place where Other Hero’s nightmares came to life, a place where their skills couldn’t save them. Other Hero wanted to punch Villain in the face for even mentioning it, but they were frozen in place. Their legs like lead and refusing to budge.

“I imagine you don’t remember much,” said Villain, all humour drained from his voice leaving only the malice behind his words. “You probably locked it all away in a little black hole in your mind to never look at again, but I do like to think you remember me.”

Other Hero stared at Villain’s face. At their physique, trying to remember anything familiar, anything at all, but nothing was coming.

“Perhaps a little water might jog your memory,” said Villain and all the blood drained from Other Hero’s face. They remembered fractured images of dying of thirst, sure that was how they were going to leave this world. Dehydrated and alone, in the dark.

Other Hero was sprawled out on the ground when the door opened and light flooded their room. They didn’t look up. They didn’t have the energy to entertain their tormentor today.

“Oh, Other Hero,” a voice cooed. Villain’s voice. “You must be so thirsty. Don’t worry. I brought some water.”

That stirred Other Hero to move. They turned their head and saw a barrel of water and it was like God had smiled on them again. Villain came to Other Hero’s aid, helping them to their feet. Other Hero leaned gratefully against Villain, they nearly wanted to cry at seeing the water. The only thing they needed to survive a little longer. Hold out a little more.

When they got to the barrel, Other Hero leaned down and Villain stopped them with a tut. “Wait. On three, ready?”

Other Hero didn’t really see the point in waiting but they nodded anyway, staring into the beautiful water below them.

“Good,” said Villain, standing a little behind Other Hero so they couldn’t see the smirk on their lips. “One,” said Villain, removing their steadying hand from Other Hero’s waist up their back and settling on the nape of their neck, rubbing soothing circles on the skin.

“Two,” and Other Hero leaned down closer to the water, their fingers dancing with eagerness on the rim of the barrel. “Three.”

Before Other Hero could do anything, Villain’s hand was on their neck shoving them headfirst into the barrel deep and not letting them up. Other Hero screamed into the water, struggling against everything to try and resurface but Villain wouldn’t let them up. They kept them locked there, thrashing, screaming, gasping for air that they were denied. They kicked and flailed but Villain didn’t relent and soon, Other Hero’s struggles became less and they felt their waning strength leave them.

They were going to drown.

A hand in their hair and Other Hero was yanked up, gasping in a big breath and coughing out lungfuls of water.

Villain turned Other Hero to face them, eyes searching their face as they tutted and said: “no. You need more. Your skin’s a little dry looking.”

And they submerged again, trying to hold their breath and pushing back against Villain. They kicked their legs out, hitting Villain but Villain didn’t budge. Their grip was like iron on Other Hero’s neck, Villain’s other hand grabbed the back of their elbow locking them in place.

Other Hero heaved, gasped, choked on the lack of air and dragged water into their lungs in a panic, coughing into the water but still Villain wouldn’t let them up.

Other Hero was breathing heavy, their chest rising and falling too fast, taking in stuttered breaths of barely any air and loosing them too quick to breathe. Oh god, they realised, clutching their chest and turning away from Villain, I’m having a panic attack.

“Looks like you do remember me,” said Villain with a smirk and Hero stepped forward, sending a right hook to Villain’s cheek.

“Shut up,” Hero hissed venomously. Villain straightened again with that same smirk, eyes dancing with delight. Hero turned to Other Hero and grabbed them by the shoulders, ducking under them to get Other Hero to look at them.

“Hey. It’s okay. He can’t hurt you. He’s tied up, Other Hero. You’re not there anymore. He can’t—“

“Oh he can,” Villain sing-songed, and Other Hero blinked wildly, wide eyes trying to focus on Hero but their vision was blurring and they were distantly aware that they were crying but it didn’t matter because they couldn’t breathe. “Funny how memories can still affect us so much, isn’t it Other Hero? I bet you thought you were cured. That you’d left that part of your life behind, but here I am, and here you are. What is that? Fate?”

Hero snarled and let go of Other Hero, punching them again and again and again. “Just shut up!”

Villain’s smile was reduced a smidge but that was enough and when turned back to Other Hero they were leaning against the wall, glaring eyes locked on Villain. “Are—“

“Yeah,” said Other Hero. “I’m fine. Let’s just get what we need and go.”

Hero nodded, coming to stand beside Other Hero. Other Hero smiled sadly at Hero and said: “since you’ve already worked up a sweat…”

“Oh it’ll be my pleasure,” Hero said, cracking their knuckles for effect, eyes on Villain, who still smiled from the chair they were tied to.

“It’s okay,” said Villain. “I yield. You want to know why there’s been an increase in crime in the docks? Shipments in and out, old ladies getting their purses snagged, blah blah blah, right?”

The heroes said nothing, just glared and Villain’s cruel smirk returned to their lips as they leaned forward, blood coating their teeth as they spoke.

“I’ll tell you cause we go way back, Other Hero. You remember Supervillain, right? Genius doctor, ahead of his time. Made us both what we are today, well he’s finally coming home and he’s got a lot of friends coming with him.”

“How many?” Other Hero demanded.

“Every. Last. One of us,” Villain said, their tone taking on one of reverence. “He’s gonna be so happy to see you. See what you’ve become, take you home.”

Hero rolled their eyes, grabbing Other Hero’s arm and pushing them towards the door. “Thanks for the heads up,” said Hero, lifting their hand to wave at the camera then sticking their middle finger up at Villain.

“We still on for drinks later?”

Hero snorted. “In your dreams.”

“Pity,” said Villain. They waited in awkward silence for a beat too long, then Villain spoke again. “Oh? They not letting you out? Maybe because they know how dangerous you are, Other Hero.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to shut up?” Hero hissed, turning to face Villain who was standing beside the chair they were just tied to.

Villain shrugged at Hero’s shock, dropping the rope and flashed that bloody grin: “should’ve gagged me, Hero. Don’t worry, I won’t make the same mistake with you.”

Then the sirens went off.

[painonthebrain]

To strip back the flesh

CWs: Lab whump, experiment whumpee, clinical/detached whumper, surgical procedure/operation, vivisection, drugging/sedation (whumpee is conscious for the procedure though), non-con body modification (past), non-con touch, bodily fluids, body horror

Saul wakes up to an unfamiliar experience … being dissected alive. After all, there’s more than meets the eye with his body now.

———

Everything feels… floaty. Too light to be real. Dizzy and fuzzy and… and…

Saul shudders, lifting a heavy hand to his face. …What’s happening again?

He can hear someone’s voice, someone who reassures him, tells him it’ll be fine, but he doesn’t really believe that, not as the world sways and blurs. Another voice tells the first to leave, and he can feel something take his wrist and set it back at his side. He protests, murmuring something too muddled to understand; slurring the words into a mush of butchered gibberish.

The second voice has a face, blue and purple and orange, and honestly, that’s just too many colors, he thinks — she reminds him of ice; her sharp gaze trained on his body.

V… She’s V. He remembers. …He thinks. Val…

Val reaches for something he can’t see. He asks what she’s doing — but she obviously can’t understand.

“Enunciate,” she says, holding a… an object, something he can’t name… to his skin.

He tries. “..Dunno your… ff,,fancy words, V.”

“Hm.” She says, her voice noncommittal to anything he says. She busies herself in feeling up his chest area, tracing the outline of the… thing in his body. He gasps.

“Wha- at —”

He now realizes he’s not wearing a shirt.

“Shh.” Val checks the accuracy of her tool’s placement, then takes the instrument and cuts through the blackened, thin membrane of the core. Fluid leaks out, and Saul can feel the ugly, wet mess trickle onto him, spilling over his sides.

He can’t speak. The only sound that comes out of his mouth is a choked-back gag.

Val eases her fingers into the gap, pulling the skin back and pinning it down.

Another kind of fluid drips down Saul’s cheeks.

“No.. no- o, stop…” He begs.

Val doesn’t pay any mind to him. She plunges her hands deep into the gaping hole she’s created, probing his innards, the sensation of her gloved hands on his organs so oddly clinical, yet sickeningly intimate.

He swears his insides are literally twisting in disgust; but maybe that’s just Val pulling his intestines out of the gap and examining them, spreading more ooze and viscera across the trembling expanse of his flesh.

She makes notes on his condition, writing as if there isn’t a living, breathing person next to her, cut open and wailing, writhing — Val checks boxes and makes tick marks, filling in something that he doesn’t care about but means so much more to her than his pain.

He doesn’t even hurt that much, he’s too far away, but still too close — or maybe she’s too close, hands on his organs, pulling them out… revealing more organs, more lungs and heart and tangled up meat, hidden bones jutting through the cavity Val made that become revealed with every unwelcome touch.

Saul begs her, pleads for her to stop, drowning in a haze of confusion and inner turmoil, panic rising with every breath he takes. The intrusion of Val’s hands on his entrails is like an infection, crawling into every crevice there ever was in his body, squirming under his skin and becoming like a living thing, a parasite —

“He really does live on inside of you,” she remarks, and Saul doesn’t try to parse the meaning of her sentiment. He doesn’t want to know.

“He hasn’t woken up yet, however…” She continues. “Shame.

“There’s not much of a timeframe for this.” Val offers, as if to comfort him for being a late bloomer instead of an artificially made monstrosity.

“…But I can accelerate the process.”

- - - -

He wakes up, a gap in his mind, and he’s still fuzzy but he knows something happened, and his body is sealed together again and…

Wait.

This body…

It’s not his.

[whumpshaped]

from this @skittles-the-whumpee

Lab whump with a whumpee was grown in a lab so there's technically nothing illegal but over time the human clone lab rat starts gaining sentience.

tw lab whump, hospital-esque setting, mention of a bunch of medical equipment and procedures but nothing really descriptive, nonhuman (clone?) whumpee, death wish at the very end

whumper is clinical and cold, never really caring about their test subject

whumper is actually fond of the little lab rat... so long as they're obedient and perfect for their purpose

whumper is a little reluctant from the get go. is this really okay? when whumpee starts showing signs of sentience, these feelings of doubt start getting out of control

whumpee loves their owner. loves the lab. the experiments can be harsh, but the first feelings they experience are love and joy

whumpee hates the lab. hates hates hates it more than anything. the first feelings they experience are rage and hatred

whumpee knows nothing but pain and isolation. the first feelings they experience are loneliness and terror

the lab itself is a dubious place where many things are hush hush, and everyone only ever knows as much as they absolutely must

it's not a tight knit community by any means. everyone keeps to themselves. whumper is just as isolated as whumpee - they kind of only have each other for company

whumpee starts asking questions like who am i? where am i? why am i?

whumper explains the experiment and whumpee is horrified

whumper tells whumpee they don't need to know about any of that

cages and syringes and white coats and white walls and sterile environments and surgical tables and surgical tools and sutures and incisions and blinding lights and leather straps and metal restraints and paper gowns and the constant buzzing of the equipment and beeping of the monitors

whumpee is a clone. an actual clone made of a real person's stolen dna. whumpee manages to escape and runs into someone who looks just like them

whumpee is actually made of whumper's dna. whumper is doing all these experiments on someone who looks exactly like themself. whumpee doesn't even realise this because there are no mirrors- they have no idea what they look like

whumper

"getting a little too emotional there, are we? i suppose it's time to make a new one again, start fresh."

"don't pretend to understand things like that. emotions, thoughts and feelings... they're not for you."

"i know exactly what you can and can't feel because i made you."

"i'd say it's for the greater good, but honestly? it's not. they're in it for the money, i'm in it for the money, and you're in it because you don't have a choice."

"you... can feel that?"

"where did you hear that? / where did you learn that?"

"you weren't supposed to be able to cry."

whumpee

"i don't understand! i don't understand anything! please! please help me understand!"

"i can feel this horrible pain in my chest regardless of the amount of painkillers and i don't get it. why won't it go away?"

"i've never had water come out of my eyes like that before... not- not in this quantity- is, is this something new you've done to me?"

"i just can't stop. i can't stop shaking."

"please stop hurting me. i don't think i can take it anymore. i don't want to take it."

"whenever you leave... i get so restless. like i want to run after you, be somewhere near you. it must be intentional, right? is that to prevent me from escaping? but i've never felt it before..."

"this thing... this state called death. i think that's what i really want."

~

@ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump

[inkwell-and-dagger]

Hunger

TW: cannibalism, potential forced cannibalism, gore, experiment whumpee, lab rat whumpee, nonhuman whumpee, sadistic whumper, scientist whumper, lab whump, abandoned whumpee

————————

Ninety consecutive days had passed since Ruaridh's body began to change for the worse. They'd tracked this time through scratching tally marks onto the wall of their cell with their steadily growing claws, that continued growing no matter how much Ruaridh chewed at them, or Derwyn clipped and filed them down to the point they nearly looked normal.

For the most part, they'd been left alone; the door only opened for painkillers, food or routine 'check-ups' from the scientist every fortnight or so. But the painkillers shoved down their throat hardly did a thing to soothe their aches and pains, the check-ups were repetitive and quite frankly annoying, and the food was bland and tasteless and had a weird texture which Ruaridh didn't like. They'd had to resort to.. other ways to satiate their incessant hunger. The only noises they'd hear nearly every day were Derwyn's smooth voice, the gentle scratching of a pen on paper, and sometimes even rain pattering down on the roof of the building. Or what they assumed was this thing called rain — they'd never seen it before.

But today was different. Ruaridh had felt it even before the door had opened, waking them from a short-lived nap in the corner.

They watched Derwyn's boots with tired, lidded eyes as he advanced, footsteps thumping against the tiled floor. "009? You're awake, that's good." Derwyn crouched down, tipping the subject's head up with a finger and thumb. "I see you've been tracking the days, hm?"

Ruaridh couldn't respond, as always. Something about her wide, dilated eyes made Ruaridh's throat close up in fear. Instead, they nodded, wearily. Derwyn chuckled in amusement. "Anyway. I've got something fun planned for us today. A little game to take your mind off of things."

A game? The concept was foreign, though a clouded memory in their mind reminded them of a time when they were younger. Running down sterile halls in fits of laughter, gazing at vials full of strange liquids and being rewarded with something bright and sweetly tasting on a stick each time they were injected with something. Derwyn had always tried to make them happy when they were little.

Derwyn laughed again at the confusion evident in their eyes. "It's gonna be fun, don't worry. Hey, if you just do as I say, then maybe you'll get a sweet treat after. Deal?"

Ruaridh repeated the last word in a faint whisper, mimicking Derwyn's accent; which made the scientist laugh again.

"You never fail to amuse me, 009," She crooned in a sickeningly sweet tone, helping the test subject up and out of the corner. Ruaridh was much taller than him, now. "Do you think you'll be able to walk all the way there?"

Ruaridh nodded stubbornly, and they just about managed to walk to the door of the cell. One foot after the other. Left, right, left right.

The hall outside of the cell was a new sight to Ruaridh after all these years, but it was nostalgic even in its unfamiliarity. Sterile, white and cold — freezing cold. Goosebumps raised on Ruaridh's arms as Derwyn led them down the corridor, past numerous other cells. 010, 011, 012, 013, all going up the more they walked. Ruaridh had never realised there were more people like them here.

Derwyn had begun to whistle a little tune as they walked, but it ceased when she noticed them staring at the cell numbers. "009." Ruaridh recognised the chiding tone, and knew it wasn't meant to be taken as a light telling off; they immediately ripped their gaze from the cell numbers, partially using their hair to hide it from their peripheral vision.

Derwyn smirked proudly, leading them onwards. The remainder of the walk there was spent in silence, aside from the occasional noise of disapproval whenever Ruaridh got distracted.

Eventually, Derwyn led them to a door. Unlike the cells and operating rooms, this one was unlabelled, and there was some sort of commotion going on inside. The faint clanking of chains. Ruaridh shuddered at the noises, wondering what kind of poor creature was trapped in there. They remained away from the door, hesitant to even look at it, as Derwyn fished out a key from the pocket of their lab coat. A soft click indicated that the door had been opened, and they were dragged inside.

The sight was disturbing. Some kind of creature, but certainly not an animal, was bound in shackles in the centre of the room; ones around its wrists chained to the floor. It looked to be the same species of Derwyn.

Confused, their eyes snapped from Derwyn to the trapped creature multiple times. They'd never seen anyone other than Derwyn before. Ever.

Derwyn just smirked down at them; a change in their tone hinted at something now.. sinister. "See that little thing? You've never seen it before, have you?"

Ruaridh shook their head.

"You're scared of it, aren't you?"

Ruaridh nodded.

"And you're hungry, correct?"

They nodded again, but more hesitantly.

"Perfect." Much to Ruaridh's dismay, Derwyn led them to the trembling human, who stared up at them with wide, terrified eyes, but it didn't speak.

Ruaridh didn't like it. They felt horrible to see something so scared, but they knew any attempts at comforting it would end in a lack of food for at least three weeks.

"I've already kept it without food for a while, so it's weak already."

Oh.

"...And I may have done a few things to it, so thankfully it won't do any yapping whilst I explain."

Oh.

"And all I ask you to do, 009, is finish it off."

Oh.

Ruaridh couldn't help but stare incredulously at her. He was asking them to kill this poor thing? How? Why?

Derwyn raised an eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that. I'm teaching you how to protect yourself. If you see something you don't like, kill it. Understood?"

They reluctantly nodded in response, earning a little smile from the scientist.

"Good. Now, you're not gonna use any weapons for this. Those are strictly for my hands only; we've been over this. Use your claws, your teeth — take a bite and see how it tastes. I know you're hungry, I haven't fed you yet. How about you try something new today?"

Ruaridh responded with a small noise, a slight whimper. Their own voice sounded strange to their own ears, accent thick, and strong, and unfamiliar. "Do I have to..?"

"Yes. I'm teaching you something valuable. I'm doing you a favour here, 009." She nudged them forward with a soft push. "Get on with it."

Despite being what they could only assume was an adult now, they felt like a little kid. A conflicted, scared child. Wanting to do as they're supposed to, but also wanting to structure their own decisions by making their own choices because the orders just don't sit right with them. They didn't want to kill this poor, poor creature, but.. Derwyn told them to.

Crouching down, they inspected the bound creature. They indeed looked frail, and colour was drained from their face. Wide eyes staring in a silent plea to be spared, but Ruaridh just couldn't do that; they weren't allowed to.

"Your heightened senses allow you to hear things normal creatures cannot, at a much farther distance than what's natural. Of course, it will grow stronger from now, since these past few months have only been the beginning." Derwyn walked up to the right of Ruaridh, crouching as well. With a latex gloved hand, she led their hand to be placed on the person's chest. "You can feel their heart beating now, but can you hear it?"

They could. If they focused enough, they could hear the frantic fluttering of the creature's heart; an incessant thumping, synced with the vein beneath their palm. Loud like the buzzing of a bee and quick like the flutter of a hummingbird's wings.

"When it gets irritating, figure out how to make it stop. Be as messy as you want; I'll even clean it up for you."

Ruaridh was hardly listening by now, staring at their own hand as Derwyn removed his. After a couple moments, the thumping did, indeed, grow annoying. And they were sure it showed in their expression, because Derwyn chuckled, who was standing well away beside a small cabinet, clipboard and pen in hand.

Ruaridh only seemed to stop being so focused when they heard the creature whimper and it began to squirm. Pulling their hand back, they noted the small puncture holes in its tattered shirt, and blood staining the tips of their claws. The thumping was there still, but just a little quieter. But Derwyn's smile faded. "Why did you stop, 009?"

"I.. I didn't mean to—"

"I don't care!" She snapped, walking over with long strides. "You were starting off good. You just have to not let the sight of a bit of blood stop you." They pulled on a fistful of their hair, tugging it upwards so Ruaridh had no choice but to look up. "Kill it. I don't care how long it takes. Take your time, make it quick, I couldn't care less; just do it. Am I understood, 009?"

Nodding frantically seemed to please them, for Ruaridh was released. Derwyn then unlocked the chains that held the creature's shackles down, before returning to the drawer. With the scientist's eyes on them, they had no choice but to get on with it. Already the thing was trying to stand, but Ruaridh held it down before it could get too far. They returned their hand to where it had been, sinking their claws into the creature's chest. A pained gasp turned into a yelp the further they sank them in, and Ruaridh soon had to use both of their hands.

Before they could comprehend what they were doing, they were ripping into its chest. Wild eyes focused on nothing but the steadily bleeding, mangled torso beneath them. One hand after the other, digging and digging and digging, until finally they were met with bone. Their own actions became a blur of crimson, and when they finally grew aware of their surroundings, and more so what they'd just done, a hardly beating heart was held tenderly in their bloodied palm.

Ruaridh’s heart stopped. They hadn't realised how far they'd gone until now, and already they felt nauseous. They glanced up, meeting a rather amused Derwyn, who nodded encouragingly.

They continued more hesitantly. They didn't know whether or not it was dead, but it was certainly not conscious; the screaming had stopped though, which they were glad for, but now the room was too quiet. The heart was warm in their hand, each thump slow and shallow. They really were hungry.

As much as it was wrong, they couldn't resist it. Sinking their fangs into the heart, something warm and metallic coating their tongue. Derwyn just watched with a growing grin as they dug into their ‘meal’. Startlingly, Ruaridh found it tasting quite nice. It was warm, which was unusual, but welcome. They were disgusted that it tasted at least decent.

They couldn't handle more than a bite before whimpering and dropping the thing, a soft sob drawing Derwyn's attention off of the clipboard.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” They cried — pleaded? Sobbed? Begged? They didn't know; were they saying this just out of guilt, or were they asking to be forgiven for doing such a thing to this harmless, unique creature? — as they lowered their crimson hands to lift the body as if talking to it, grasping onto the cold, fragile flesh in an awkward attempt at a hug. It was their first try, but they believed it was good enough.

Derwyn watched the scene with growing intrigue, scribbling something else down on the clipboard. It was good enough for now. “You really should be getting used to killing soon, 009.”

---

Maybe Ruaridh had gotten used to killing after all.

Ripping into the flesh of a little deer they’d found, defenceless and oblivious to the large humanoid pouncing on it, making sure to be gentle as they munched on the meat inside. They didn't bother with the organs. That part made them nauseous.

They couldn't help but feel bad, despite how desensitised they were to the taste of blood in their mouth, to the feeling of crimson painting their fingertips. None of the creatures they'd killed deserved to die, but they had to live one way or another, right? Having to die to help them survive was a sad, cruel fate, but they didn't want to starve.

A small, sad sigh escaped their bloodied lips, staring down at the gorgeous little creature they had to sacrifice. Dawn was just beginning to arrive, the sun just about peeking across the horizon through the trees.

“I'm sorry.”

The feather remained securely at their side, still as pristine as when they found it.

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