#mad scientist whumpee

[epiclamer]

The scientist shivered against the cold breeze of the air-conditioned laboratory, their white coat was barely enough to keep the hairs on their arms from standing on end.

Just a few more hours and then they could sleep. That’s all they had to keep telling themselves.

Keys jingling in the doorway spooked them out of their stupor, shooting to their feet and away from their work. At the entrance stood Villain, backlit by the bright hallway lights streaming behind them and into the lab.

Scientist could feel the sweat beading on their forehead when a moment ago they were fighting the frigid air. Villain’s presence always seemed to have that effect on them.

“You can leave now, you know? You don’t have to stay here.”

I won’t keep you here. Is what they truly meant, but phrasing it like the scientist had a say in the matter made them feel a little bit better.

Both of their gazes fell to the chain that had recently come off the scientist’s ankle. When the villain had first kidnapped them two months ago, they weren’t even allowed to leave their chair. Now, however, the villain was practically inviting them to leave.

“T-That, um, new poison you wanted? It’s almost done, I just need a few more hours tonight—”

“I won’t kill you.” The villain raised an eyebrow, gaze piercing through the researcher in front of them, picking them apart piece by piece, layer by layer. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Scientist swallowed, it was loud enough that their gulp could be heard bouncing off the thin walls of their workshop. “I-I thought you wanted this poison done by tomorrow for your big fight with Hero.”

The criminal took a step towards the other, dragging a finger down the edge of their work table as they did. “That poison was just a thought—a rough draft. It’s not even supposed to exist, it shouldn’t even be possible.”

They were standing almost nose-to-nose now, the scientist could feel the villain’s minty breath ghosting the bow of their bottom lip, which they bit down on to try and stop it from shuddering. Something about the villain’s eyes stole the breath from their lungs, something about their tactile fingers always seemed to catch their wandering attention.

Something about the villain was in itself completely mesmerizing.

“Go home, Scientist. You have people waiting for you, you have a family, friends, even the police still scour the city for a clue to your whereabouts.”

Wrong, the villain was terribly wrong. They had no one to go back to, no home, no spouse, no kids, no friends, no coworkers. And the police had ended their search three weeks ago, they had seen the delcaration on the news headline.

Scientist didn’t exist anymore. They didn’t exist anywhere outside of this very lab.

Villain cupped the researcher’s hands in their own, taking them gently and holding them firmly. “Go home.”

If their stomach wasn’t exploding with butterflies, Scientist probably would’ve bolted for the exit the second the chain had come off. Instead, they were frozen to the spot, lost in the eyes of the city’s top criminal, and silently begging to never have to leave their side. As their colleague or as their partner in crime, Scientist simply craved the attention, the praise, that came effortlessly from the villain’s mouth at the sight of the scientist’s work.

They had worked many jobs throughout their various degrees, yet nobody flattered the scientist like Villain did.

Truthfully, it was intoxicating. Scientist never wanted it to stop—even if it meant working for the ‘bad guys’.

“Just let m-me finish this for you— please.”

“I don’t want a peace offering, I’m already setting you free. No strings attached.” The criminal shrugged, letting go of the researcher’s hands and pushing their own into their pockets.

Scientist was crudely greeted by the cold air on their skin once more, but they did their best not to show their disappointment. “I-It’s not that—”

“Then what is it? Because I can’t have you stay here any longer without a proper excuse.”

The scientist always hated when people got stern with them, still they managed to mask their wince of fear and carry on, the words sticking to their throat. They had reasoning, but it was still up to the villain to decide if they would accept it or not.

One deep breath and two seconds of solid eye contact and the researcher felt like they were going to pass out from the stress. Their whole body was drenched in sweat, maybe the villain could kill them to save them from this embarrassment. On the other hand, maybe the villain would say yes.

“Villain.” Another deep breath. “I want to work with you.”

[toyybox]

Derwyn and their test subject Ruaridh from Uilebheist A Rinn An Duine by @inkwell-and-dagger

[aspergirl2022]

"The unfeeling me" scenes who gave me whump flies

Years ago I found this shonen ai who was still in publication at that time then I forgot it until a few days. Now I need to read it again to remember everything but the site where I read it is now close... 😢 Looks like I'll read it in English if I don't find another site in my maternal tongue

[whumpinthepot]

2023 year of whump: February (week two)

Whump prompt: Involuntary implant

—

Whumpee is forced to get surgery on their lower back. Its an experimental implant that will fuse into whumpees bones and grow up the spine until it reaches the skull, fingertips, and toes of the whumpee. The process is slow and painful, and whumpee can feel it intertwining further up their body each passing day.

The idea of the implant is to find a way to mend broken bones quickly on their own without having to set them into a cast for long periods of time. Meaning once the implant has taken over the body, the whumpee will then have to move on to stage two.

Already exhausted from the trial run of the implant, whumpee is strapped down and has their arm put into a vice to have their bones broken. Only for the whumpers to leave it untreated to see if their experiment would work or not.

The only question is how many trial runs would it take before the whumpers were satisfied with the product? What side affects would it lead to? How many broken bones was whumpee going to have by the end of this?

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Creeping Ambition

CW: Dehumanization, captivity, restraints, emotional manipulation, mad science, drugging, delirium/hallucinations, noncon touch (nonsexual), torture

For @whumptober 2022, day 1: adverse effects / “this wasn’t supposed to happen” and day 23: tied to a table

Signs of the Sea Masterlist

-

The following was attached to an email sent to Austin Howard, CEO of Howard Reston Health, by Dr. Rachel Lachlan

RECORDING 90

DAY 076 SINCE SUBJECT WAS ACQUIRED

There is a soft, slight hiss as the recording begins. Barely perceptible, it seems to grow slightly louder as the recording continues.

A woman’s voice speaks.

“This is Dr. Rachel Lachlan, recording for the purposes of later transcription, with Bahram Anvari assisting. Subject is adolescent mer and is a rare example of a young adult male. Today’s examinations are more practical than usual, I must admit. We’re not looking for any big breakthroughs in knowledge today.”

A male voice with traces of a long-ago English accent still clinging to the edges of each syllable speaks next. “We’re not?”

“No, Bahram.” The rattling of metal, sound of wheels rolling along a floor. There is a splash of water, the sound of it slopping against the sides of a tall plastic tub. A soft chirp and click becomes audible, questioning. While the young man murmurs a soothing nonsense reply, the woman ignores it. There is light beeping, four in quick succession, then the sound of a mechanism unlocking. Creaking as a door swings open. The rattling of wheels begins again. “Today is really more about observation, looking for the smaller details that our more difficult work may lead to us missing.”

“So we’re just going to… watch him?” 

Thump. 

“In a manner of speaking, yes. Please move the mer onto the examination table.”

There is a brief pause, and then Bahram Anvari speaks in a softer, sweeter voice. “Okay, here we go. Yeah, you know how to do this by now, huh? One… two… three… up!”

Harder thumps, and the sound of Bahram Anvari’s heavy breathing from exertion. The mer chirps, a sound that manages at once to be both plaintive and attempting cheerful. 

“There we go,” Bahram says. “Good, good job.”

“It doesn’t understand English or ASL.” Dr. Lachlan’s voice is dry and disdainful. “I don’t know why you bother with all that nonsense. It isn’t a person, Bahram.”

“With all due respect, Dr. Lachlan, anatomical studies of recovered specimens have shown that they have very similar neurological structures to our own.” Bahram’s voice might tighten slightly - it’s difficult to tell by recording alone. “There’s no reason to believe he can’t learn a language as easily as we do.”

“Bahram.” Dr. Lachlan’s sigh is audible in the recording. “What have I told you about over-humanizing the test subjects? He is not human.”

“Their scientific name is Homo haffru sirenia! They’re part of our family tree!”

“I have some disagreements about that classification, to be frank. With the gills and being fully aquatic in their natural lives, I would really call them Cetacea, class them alongside whales, not Simiiformes like us.”

“You’d be wrong if you did. Anyone who did would be wrong. He is clearly a branch of humanity-”

There is a pause. “Bahram. Are you questioning my understanding of taxonomy as it applies to a marine subject I have far more knowledge of and experience with than you do?”

“... I thought you said you’d never worked with them personally before this.”

There is another, much longer pause. “Bahram-”

“Did you? Did you work with mer before, in person? Not just observational?”

“That isn’t relevant to the current-”

“Zer nazan! Of course it’s relevant-”

“Bahram! I can dismiss you from this project if you would prefer, right now, and you may pack your things and go.”

A pause. “What?”

“I can continue onward on my own or hire someone new, if you would prefer. Or you can stop blithering and help me provide mankind with discoveries that could get both of us quite wealthy and well-known.”

“I don’t care about money, Dr. Lachlan. And I don’t care about getting my name in any publications, or-”

“But you value your parents’ regard, don’t you? I imagine that after you have already left your university education somewhat… ignominiously, that losing your first and only job immediately afterward would disappoint them further.”

Silence, broken only by the questioning clicks from the mer, which neither human seems to respond to. Bahram Anvari is the first one to speak again. “I… I’m sorry, Dr. Lachlan. I didn’t sleep well last night, and I’ve been having some trouble… with everything.”

“I can see that.” Dr. Lachlan’s reply is clipped, irritated but no longer angry. “Does this mean I should be concerned about a repeat of your prior illness? I offered you an option that allowed you to gain the experience you need without having to attend classes, and even agreed to speak to Dr. Evans about forgiving some of your incompletes in order to allow you to return to finish your degree-”

“I know, Dr. Lachlan, and I’m grateful… it’s just-”

“Should I rescind that offer, Bahram? You know as well as I it will be quite impossible for you to gain employment within your chosen field without that bit of paper proving your capabilities.”

“No! No, I’m… I’ll be fine. I’m fine, doctor. I’m just… I’ll try to get better sleep. That usually helps a lot.”

“I will hold you to that. Now… let’s get him strapped down.”

Bahram’s voice has a note of reluctance and uncertainty. “... yes, doctor.”

For approximately sixty-seven seconds, the only sounds are the breathing of the two humans and the mer, and the sound of metal buckles clinking as the mer is strapped by tail and wrists against the table. The mer whistles in distress, but beyond some low shushing noises from Bahram, neither speaks to him. 

Dr. Rachel Lachlan’s heels click on the tile floor as she moves away from the recording device.

“Dr. Lachlan? What are you doing?” Bahram Anvari moves the microphone closer to the mer, and there is the sound of scraping and a brief burst of feedback and audio noise. 

Dr. Lachlan’s reply is faded and distant. A cabinet door opens and closes sharply. Water runs, and then shuts off again shortly afterward. “I’m prepping our observational study, Bahram. We’ll be observing the effects of a specific kind of sedative being developed for use in merkind.”

“For use in… why would we need that? I thought you said you didn’t plan to take any more-”

“I don’t plan to do anything, Bahram. My employer, however, may wish to gain further subjects in the future. And we want this to be as humane a process as we can make it. Now, you mentioned his right arm is no longer useful for syringe injection?”

“... right. He’s… his veins are totally tapped out on that side. We’re giving him too much-”

“Nonsense. We’ll try the left today, then.”

The mer whistles again. This time Bahram speaks to him directly. “It’s all right, just turn your… right. Just like that. Give blood, okay?”

“It knows that command, hm?” Dr. Lachlan laughs, a little wryly. “Like a dog learning what ‘roll over’ means.”

“Or a child," Bahram says quietly, "learning how to ask to be held.”

Dr. Lachlan makes a sound of disgust, but doesn’t reprimand him this time. Instead, there is a brief silence before the mer whimpers and Bahram shushes him again.

“Bahram, what are you doing?”

“He likes-... it helps him feel better,” Bahram replies, a little defensively. “He’s scared of needles - can’t imagine why - but if one of us is there with a hand on his head, it helps him.”

“You’re a lost cause, Anvari. Imagine how little we would know about the world if all our researchers had your bleeding heart.”

“We might know just as much, and have found it out in ways that didn’t involve terror.”

“Nonsense. And... there we go. It should only take a few minutes to take effect. Let’s clean up while we wait.”

“Yes, doctor. All right, buddy, you took the needle really well. Now-... here, yes.” Brief silence. “Good? See?”

“... are you signing to it again, Bahram?”

“Yes. He really does know a few signs, and-”

“Hmph. Hopeless indeed. Come here and help me.”

For approximately five minutes and forty-two seconds, no sound is heard beyond breathing, Dr. Lachlan’s quiet commands, and Bahram’s soft, deferential answers. Then, the mer whimpers and whistles, and the two humans go quiet. 

Rattling and thumps. Distressed clicks and whistles raise in volume and pitch. Audio briefly drops out as the mer’s keening is too loud and close and the microphone fails to fully record it and instead records a moment of static. 

Keening again. Table rattling.

“What is he doing? Dr. Lachlan, why is he doing that?”

“It’s thrashing, Bahram.”

“No, I see that, but… why is he-... hey, it’s okay, it’s-... ow!”

“Don’t get so close to it!”

“He bit me!”

“Shocking. You put your hand next to its mouth and it bit you. A wild surprise.”

“Dr. Lachlan… What’s wrong with him?!”

INCLUDED: FIGURE 3.2, PHOTO OF MER TAKEN FROM LEFT SIDE

“Hm. Well. That wasn’t supposed to happen.” Dr. Lachlan’s voice is muffled, as the mer continues to wail, rattling and thumping against the table as he thrashes. The keens become shrieking, screeches that overwhelm the recording with feedback again and again.

SUBECT STRAPPED TO TABLE. SHOULDER BLADES AND TAIL AGAINST METAL. BACK ARCHED. DRIED AND WET SALTWATER ON FACE. MOUTH WIDE OPEN, FANGS GLEAM IN THE LIGHT PLACED CLOSE TO FACE.

EYES WIDE.

SEE SUPPORTIVE DOCUMENTATION RECORDING INCREASED HEART RATE.

Primary audio file unusable for reference purposes for period of sixty-six seconds due to this loss of fidelity. 

SEE INCLUDED AUDIO FILE 62 FOR MORE ACCURATE RECORDING OF MER DISTRESS SOUNDS WHEN NEGATIVE PHYSICAL STIMULI IS APPLIED.

INCLUDED AUDIO FILE 62 FROM RECORDS: MER SCREAMING.

“What was supposed to happen? That wasn’t a sedative, was it, Dr. Lachlan? We’ve used sedatives on him before and this has never happened, so what did you give him and what did you think would happen when you did?”

“Bahram-... I would watch your tone-”

“What was it?!”

“... a deliriant.”

The pause that follows is not a silence at all. The mer continues to shriek in the background, audio crackling in and out, in and out. 

“You gave him something to make him hallucinate?!”

“My employer-”

The sound of tearing fabric overtakes all over noise.

“... wait, what’s that sound?”

Crashing, sound of metal against tile, glass breaking, more fabric tearing, and above it all, the mer’s high-pitched, keening screams. 

“Shit! Come here, buddy, it’s okay, come here-... oh shit-.. Stop, stop trying-... my ears, that hurts so bad, stop it-"

“The subject,” Dr. Lachlan speaks over the noise, voice strained with effort, nearly shouting herself, “has torn the restraints on the right side and from its tail and is now off the table and on the ground. It has destroyed laboratory equipment, including the restraints… also a variety of compounds intended for experimental use… several broken syringes, its travel tank…”

“Here, let me get that for you, just calm down, calm down, here we go… here we go-...”

“Bahram Anvari has undone the subject’s last remaining restraint from around its wrist-”

“He’s terrified! Whatever you gave him is hurting him!”

“It’s not hurting him… it… it just may be causing some sensory hallucinations-”

“No.” Bahram’s voice is firm. “He can see his pod-... his family. He can see them being harpooned like he was! He can see-... see their blood in the water-... he thinks he’s in the water. He’s trying to get to them to help! Here, here buddy, it’s okay, you’re just in the lab with me…”

INCLUDED: FIGURE 3.3. STILL IMAGE FROM SECURITY CAMERA LOCATED IN PLACEMENT SEVEN WITHIN LAB.

PHOTO OF BAHRAM ANVARI, SEATED. ANVARI HOLDS MER SUBJECT, WHO IS STILL APPEARING TO VOCALIZE. MER SUBJECT IS BLURRY DUE TO CONTINUED VOLATILE MOVEMENTS. WATER IS VISIBLE AROUND TILE FLOOR DUE TO OVERTURNED TRAVEL TANK. 

ALSO VISIBLE: GLASS SHARDS, SYRINGES, TORN NYLON, OVERTURNED METAL TABLE, AND DR. RACHEL LACHLAN STANDING NEAR SINK.

 “How can you know?” Dr. Rachel Lachlan’s voice remains calm despite noise and movement. “How can you  know that’s what it sees?”

“I just-... I just know!”

There is whispering, from Bahram Anvari, which cannot be understood on the audio recording. After approximately seven seconds of further vocalizations, the mer goes quiet, and then whistles exactly once, high-pitched for one second, then three shorter, sharper, lower notes.

“I know,” Bahram says, voice soft and gentle. “I know. We’re just here in the lab. It’s just us.”

“Bhhh… Bhhhh-rmmm.” The mer appears to be attempting to say Bahram Anvari’s name. This transcriber did their best to accurately reflect the pronunciation of syllables. “Bhhh-rmmm, hhhh-puh…”

“I’m right here. I’m right here. It’s just us, it’s just the lab. Your pod is still out there, they’re all right, it’s just us here… just us.”

“Bhh-rmmmm… mah-... mah-”

“I know, I’m so sorry, she’s not here.”

“Mah-”

“I know.”

A pause.

FIGURES 3.4, 3.5, AND 3.6. STILL FROM SECURITY CAMERA LOCATED OVER ENTRANCE INTO LABORATORY. PHOTO SHOWS JUVENILE MER HELD BY BAHRAM ANVARI.

FIRST PHOTO SHOWS MER WITH PALMS FACING SELF, CLAWS SPREAD, ONE HAND LOCATED THREE INCHES ABOVE THE OTHER. ONE HAND IS OVER LUNG AREA SLIGHTLY TO THE LEFT SIDE, ONE OVER UPPER ABDOMEN ON RIGHT.

SECOND PHOTO SHOWS SAME IMAGE, BUT NOW MER’S HANDS HAVE SHIFTED INWARD, ONE DIRECTLY ABOVE THE OTHER, CLAWS SPREAD, CENTRAL POSITION IN FRONT OF TORSO.

THIRD PHOTO SHOWS MER’S HANDS HAVE RETURNED TO THEIR ORIGINAL POSITION, CLAWS SPREAD, ONE SLIGHTLY TO RIGHT AND THE OTHER SLIGHTLY TO LEFT.

“I know, I know you are, I know… It’ll stop after a while, I promise…”

“Bahram.” Dr. Lachlan sounds genuinely unsettled for the first time. “What did it just do?”

“He said I’m afraid. Miah and I have taught him some ASL, I told you, Dr. Lachlan, he isn’t what you keep saying he is, he’s thinking all the time. He’s learning. He’s-... he’s just a kid-”

“It is a juvenile mer-”

“He’s a child. A humanoid child who has been abducted, and he’s scared and in pain and it’s… I’m part of it. It’s my fault. He misses them so much… He thinks about his mother, you know. All the time. It’s okay… it’s okay. I think about my maman, too…”

“It thinks about its parent?”

“Dr. Lachlan…”

“Fine. Its mother.”

“Yes. He’s… he’s barely more than a baby.”

“This juvenile is adolescent. It’s within two years of entering its first mating cycle!”

“Yeah, and so was I when I was sixteen, but I still asked for Maman when I was in a car accident! He wants his mom. What kid have you met who didn’t want someone when he’s scared and alone?”

“I… don’t interact often with children.”

“Yeah. I can tell.”

Dr. Lachlan’s reply is clipped. “... I can see that you won’t be reasonable about the current situation. I need to record my observations for my employer’s benefit. I think we’ll cut our experiment short for today. When you can, return him to his tank and clean up this mess.”

“Yes, of course, doctor, but… that’s it? That’s all you needed?”

“... yes. I’ve gotten what my employer needs to know.”

Dr. Lachlan’s heels crunch on broken glass and plastic as she walks briskly out the door and closes it behind her with a sharp click.

The audio recording continues on for some time, the only sounds those of Bahram Anvari speaking to the mer, and the mer’s chirping, whistling, and clicking responses. After approximately one hour and seven minutes, Bahram Anvari begins to clean up the side of the laboratory closest to the door.

The sound of a secondary travel tank being wheeled in, one squeaky wheel differentiating it from the original, now broken one. 

“Oh, right. The audio. Let me turn this over, bud, and then we can get you back home-... back into the tank, anyway. I can get the glass out of your tail in a second. Oh, man, you are so heavy…”

One final whistle from the mer.

“Yeah… you’re welcome. I hope this doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass later.”

RECORDING ENDS.

-

Copy of email sent to Austin Howard:

BODY:

FROM: dr.rachel@hrh.org

TO: howard.austin@hrh.org

SUBJECT: Breakthrough!

Mr. Howard,

I thought you might find something of value in this transcribed recording of my latest session with the juvenile mer subject. I have attached images and audio files that support the transcription, which I believe will be of immense benefit.

Frankly, this justifies our entire mission.

As you can see, the juvenile is learning American Sign Language due to repeated contact with my assistant and our friend’s daughter. While that is fascinating, there is something far more important in this recording.

Note, if you will, that Bahram Anvari appears to have some understanding as to the mer’s thoughts and access to specifics as to its reasoning that he shouldn’t. 

He won’t tell me how he gained this knowledge, but I think our hunch is correct.

The mer are telepathic, Austin!

And ours… is talking to Bahram.

Yours,

-

Dr. Rachel Lachlan, D.Sc

Head of Applied Experimental Research

Howard Reston Health

dr.rachel@hrh.org

(555) 683-4310

“Every great advance in science has issued from a new audacity of imagination.”

John Dewey

BODY:

FROM: howard.austin@hrh.org

TO: dr.rachel@hrh.org

SUBJECT: Re: Breakthrough!

Dr. Lachlan,

I was excited to review the transcript of your session. Now, having listened to it and looked over your notes, I’m downright goddamn thrilled. 

My secretary will be giving you a call in about twenty minutes. I intend to make a visit to your laboratory and see the juvenile in person. Schedule a particularly strenuous, frightening, or painful experiment for that day, and ensure Bahram Anvari assists you.

Let’s see what this little fish can do.

Thank you as always for your invaluable contributions,

-

Austin Howard

CEO, Howard Reston Health

h.austin@hrh.com

(555) 334 - 2309

“Ambition can creep as well as soar.”

Edmund Burke

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @thefancydoughnut @whumptywhumpdump @boxboysandotherwhump @yet-another-heathen @fanmanga1357-blog @justabitofwhump @crystalrainwing @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @orchidscript @whump-tr0pes @hackles-up plus @whumpworldld for whumptober tag list

[writereleaserepeat]

Chemical Romance

Loosely inspired by @justplainwhump's story Pet Safety. In Pet Safety, the MC drops some details that suggest Romantics in their universe can be chemically altered to need another person nearby. I thought this was a brilliant idea and ran with it for a short story (that I haven't really edited or revised, fuck it we ball).

Summary: After countless trials and many failed experiments, X001 is the first chemically-altered Romantic available for sale. The scientist responsible watches over his subject as she is introduced to her buyer - and carefully-tailored chemical match - for the first time. X001 soon learns what it's like to need someone more than she needs life itself.

CW: institutionalized slavery, implied medical whump, chemical modifications, fade to black noncon/dubcon

X001 knelt patiently on the plush carpet beside the chaise. She could sense that her handler wasn’t quite as patient, particularly with the way he kept twisting the leash between his fingers, a gentle tug on her collar each time.

Perhaps her handler was just as excited as she was. Not just excited, but nervous. X001 hadn’t been this nervous since her first days in training. Today she was going to meet her new owner, her Master, the very person she had been working so hard to learn how to please. A chill ran up X001’s spine, a sensation she was barely able to swallow down. She couldn’t let her nerves show, not now, not when it mattered the most.

Voices murmured outside the door, warm words running together, the comforting hum of idle conversation. No commands came for her, not yet. X001 was certain if there was a command, she wouldn’t miss it. Every sense was attuned to her handler, and soon, to her Master. Her handler had told X001 that if her new Master was satisfied with their trial, she would get to go home with them.

Home was what she had been working so hard towards, wasn’t it? It's what she was made for.

---

“As you can see, ’01 is a physically spectacular specimen,” Val said as he gestured towards the one-way glass. The girl knelt unmoving where she was nestled in the thick pile of the carpet, her posture perfect, and her brilliant green eyes fixed glassily on some distant point. As unflattering as the training facility uniforms could be, it was hard to mistake the delicacy of her petite figure, and impossible to tear one’s eyes from the thick russet curls that cascaded down her shoulders.

At least, that’s what Val had been told to regurgitate from the facility’s marketing materials.

“That’s why I chose her,” the buyer said, his gaze transfixed on the subject, not once turning his attention back to Val.

Perhaps Val would have been irritated if he was in marketing. But that wasn't his business, never had been. He continued, unbothered.

“As you’ve surely been reminded by the purchasing agent, X001 is the first product available for sale with these particular modifications. Although our experimental models have shown great success and promise, there is no guarantee that X001 will perform to specifications.” Val also regurgitated this, all but verbatim, from the materials he’d been given. He wasn’t a salesman, no, he was a scientist.

It had been years of hard work and tireless nights. It had been dozens of destroyed products, specimens that were ruined beyond refurbishment, and millions of dollars of company money poured into equipment and supplies. It had been begging his superiors for another chance, promising them that he would make the company's next cash cow.

Eventually, it had also been a success.

“I hear you,” the buyer said, the patience in his voice slipping. “I’ve been told that same thing at least ten times now. I think it's worth the risk, especially for a pretty thing like that.”

Val’s grip on his pen tightened. He’d waited for this moment for many months now, and it was finally here. It was time to prove himself.

His heart thundered inside his chest, and Val nodded to himself as much as the buyer.

“Very well. Are you ready for your trial to begin?”

Lust dripped from the buyer’s tongue as he answered.

“Absolutely.”

---

A clicking tone came through the intercom, a sound which seemed to signal something to X001’s handler. She didn’t move as he unclipped the leash from the ring on her collar and pulled away. He took a single step, then paused, and she felt his hand rest gently on the top of her head.

“Remember your training. Don’t disappoint me, ’01.”

“Yes, sir.” The demure whisper was one she’d practiced until she’d become hoarse, but today, it was as smooth as honey. X001 was merely grateful it hadn’t cracked under the nerves that strained her body.

The comfort of the hand disappeared. Her handler exited the room, leash in hand, leaving X001 alone.

She knew what came next. It would settle in her stomach within the next thirty seconds, and over the course of five minutes, it would buzz throughout her body like electricity. That insatiable longing, the primal need to be close to a human person, would begin to broil to the surface. Her skin would get covered in gooseflesh, like she had been plunged into an ice bath.

To be isolated like this, utterly alone in a room, would slowly become agony.

X001 thought back briefly to the time before her body had been weaponized. Early in training, before she’d been dragged to the medical wing every morning for new injections and infusions, she hadn’t felt like this. She could be alone in her cell for hours, sometimes days, and be perfectly content with the solitude. Not just content, but grateful.

That had changed, though, and she didn’t know why. They'd done something. Something she'd never have the privilege of understanding.

All X001 did know was that she needed someone. She needed them now, at her side, before the pain in her chest became unbearable. Her handler, a different handler, her Master. Anyone would be enough to settle the unease.

---

“As you can see,” Val explained as gestured towards the subject that sat beyond the glass, “we’ve engineered a nervous response upon isolation from human contact.”

It had hardly been a minute since Handler Jones had left the room, and already X001 was trembling where she knelt. Muscles strained beneath her supple, tanned skin; her effort was apparent as she tried to keep still. Those stunning green eyes, once unblinking, now fluttered nervously.

The warmth in his stomach spread as he watched his experiment succeed, fulfilling his decade of promises to his superiors. Val continued his explanation eagerly.

“Part of this response is conditioning, and part of it is the chemical manipulation I discussed earlier. Her very brain chemistry and nervous system function have been altered to make her not just crave human contact, but require it for survival. The moment you walk in, you should notice her relax. She’ll be inseparable from you. Even in her sleep she’ll reach out for you, her body telling her that she needs your touch.”

The buyer hummed beneath his breath, and he watched ’01 tremble with a languid smile.

“And what if I do leave her alone?”

“That, sir, would be one of the most painful things you could do to her.”

---

Seconds became minutes, and the aching in X001’s chest mounted. Her heart fluttered uncontrollably, her muscles ached, and her head spun. Her training slipped away so easily when she got like this, when she was alone. The only thought she could hold on to was the thought of touching someone, curling up against their body, sinking against their naked skin. It was the only cure for her present sickness.

She dug her fingernails into the soft skin of her palms. Her hands were still folded neatly in front of her, but the subtle flexing gave her something to distract from the pain wracking her body.

No, it wasn’t pain, not exactly. She knew pain, she’d grown accustomed to it. This sensation was need. It was like thirst, or hunger, or desperation for air. Every part of her thrummed in its cadence.

Then the door handle clicked open.

It took all of X001’s training not to throw herself at the man who’d walked into the room. In an instant the discomfort in her body began to ebb, but the fluttering of her heart continued. She wanted to be touched, held, comforted. It was the only cure for the ache deep in her bones.

Although she hadn’t looked up at the man’s face – she wasn’t permitted to – she was drawn in by the intricate designs on his well-polished shoes. The well-tailored pants and unscuffed leather dripped with and air luxury, and a scent of burnt vanilla and whiskey seemed to follow as he entered.

The man sat down on the chaise beside X001, and she had to clench her teeth to stop from leaning into him. Her handler had made it incredibly clear that she was to remain in position, as perfect as she had been trained, until she was granted reprieve. She listened attentively, straining for the sound of a command, hearing as he settled into the soft plush of the furniture, then-

“Release. Come up here with me.”

X001 didn’t need to be told twice.

---

Val couldn’t help but smile, his cheeks aching as he watched years of work pay off before his eyes. ’01 slunk up onto the couch with that effortless fluidity all Romantics were trained in. She slid into the spot beside the buyer’s body, already cozy against his chest without a moment of hesitation. Her chin tucked against his collarbone, her nose buried against his neck, and her body shifted with a deep sigh.

“Shit, she never had this reaction with the test sticks you had us use in training,” Handler Jones said with disbelief.

“That was a very low dose of the buyer’s pheromones,” Val explained, attention only partially on the handler. A mere handler could never understand the beauty and complexity of what was unfolding beyond the glass. “She’s never been given unrestricted access to the source. It must be overwhelming her.”

“Bitch better be able to remember what we’ve worked on these last few months,” the handler grumbled.

If she couldn’t, Val wouldn’t be surprised. The experimental models had been almost delirious when they were first introduced to their chemically engineered pheromone match. This had been the most successful of the chemical alterations he had been pioneering, and X001 was absolute proof of that.

All humans had this reaction, at least, to some extent. Despite having some of the weakest noses in the animal kingdom, the human body still sends messages to other humans in smelling distance. And in these messages the body conveys arousal, genetic compatibility, and desire.

What Val had done was nothing more than play with these senses inside a laboratory's sandbox. It had taken a couple of years of development and chemical tweaking, but Val had finally developed a course of treatments that would make the buyer’s scent irresistible to the product. The treatments overrode the product’s innate senses, the natural desire to find genetic compatibility, something that only the subconscious animal mind could know.

A few weeks of daily injections and that innate instinct was overwritten. The product's true nature had been wiped out, replaced instead with the extact chemical makeup of their new buyer. The scent of the buyer would be irresistible, intoxicating. It would immediately invoke lust, and when coupled with a Romantic's conditioning, it would naturally create the ideal product.

The waitlist for chemically-altered Romantics had already surpassed the waitlist for standard-issue Romantics. After all, who wouldn't want their perfect match, a divine creature that believed in its animal mind that its owner was its perfect match?

---

X001 had never experienced anything like it before. The scent flooding her senses was not merely sweet. Sweetness was something found in baked goods, or the treats that her handler snuck her when she was performing well. This was ambrosia, a full-body sensation that drew her ever-closer to the man on the chaise. It was like the space beside him had been built just for her.

No matter how close she drew herself to the man’s skin, she couldn’t get enough. It was all she could do not to drag her tongue across the hot flesh. She was burning with need, the urge to sink deep into him and never leave.

Hands ran through her hair, across her hips, but she hardly felt them. Instincts from her training took over and she let them move her body. All she cared about was getting closer, her skin warm with the desire for contact with his. All of X001’s instincts were filling her with the need to be with the man, a need even greater than her own need to breathe. It was beyond intoxicating.

Relief and pleasure coalesced as his smooth hands grabbed her hair, her waist, her neck. Bliss. Relief. The understanding in her mind that this was her purpose, and this man is exactly who she was meant for.

If this was truly her Master, she couldn’t imagine anything better.

---

"Hey, labcoat, isn't your job here done?" Handler Jones asked as the buyer began the more intimate engagements of his trial run with X001.

Val pursed his lips and reclined in the seat in front of the one-way mirror.

"I'd like to see the fruits of my labor in action. You've worked in X001 for what, four months? I've worked on this project for more than nine years. This is my moment, my success."

"Whatever you say, man," Handler Jones muttered. "Call me when the bitch has had her fun. I've got two new trainees to worry about, no need for me to watch the show."

Val merely waived the handler off. Solitude is what he needed now, the opportunity to bask in his own success. After all, he deserved it.

No, the thought idly as a grin crept onto his face, I deserve one of these for myself.

[whumperfultime]

Tarot-Inspired Whump Prompts

I'm enthusiastic about both whump and tarot and those interests were bound to collide at some point. So I wrote a list of writing prompts inspired by the Major Arcana! Five prompts for each card, so there should be something for everyone. Enjoy!

(Also, if you happen to write anything based on any of these, feel free to tag me! I'd be honored to read it.)

The Fool: Accidental whump. Misplaced trust. Leap of faith. Taking a risk. Falling from a high place.

The Magician: Magical whump. Manipulation. Mind control. A charismatic and confident character. A table full of tools for inflicting pain.

The High Priestess: Keeping secrets. Blindfolded whumpee relying on their other senses. Guarding something or someone. Intuitively noticing when something or someone has changed. Cult setting/dynamics.

The Empress: Gilded cage. Lady whump (if you're into that). Comfort in material things. Gentle caretaker. Whumpee not used to experiencing abundance and safety.

The Emperor: Strict whumper and/or strict rules. Royal whump. Wartime. Stoic leader trying to remain calm for the sake of their team. High security.

The Hierophant: Religious whump. Institutionalized whump. Punished for questioning authority. Pressure to conform. Power leading to corruption.

The Lovers: Yandere whump. Sadistic choice. Forced to watch. Protectiveness. Multiple whumpees, whumpers, caretakers, etc.

The Chariot: Car crash. On the run. Kidnapped and forced into a vehicle. Lost and stranded. Unwanted and distressing thoughts.

Strength: Whumpee turned caretaker or whumper. Monster character. Patient caretaker. Animal attack. Emotional support animal.

The Hermit: Isolation. Sensory deprivation. Neglect. Feeling like an outcast. Going into hiding.

Wheel of Fortune: Bad luck. Time heals all wounds. Long-term captivity. Painful anniversaries. Wrong place, wrong time.

Justice: Whumper being arrested. Detached/indifferent whumper or caretaker. Wrongful imprisonment. Privileges vs. punishments. Shutting off emotions so logic can take over.

The Hanged Man: Stress position. Caught in a net. Restrained and abandoned. Hanging. Standing cuffs.

Death: Grief. Recovery milestones. Immortal whumpee dying over and over. Left behind. Visiting a grave.

Temperance: Drugged whumpee. Personality changes due to trauma. Angel character. Poisoning. Mad scientist whumper.

The Devil: Demon character. Sadistic whumper. Addiction and unhealthy coping mechanisms. Pet whump. Collared.

The Tower: Building collapse. Struck by lightning. Drastic change. A character being overpowered. Shocking revelation or betrayal.

The Star: Bathing (whether this is peaceful or whumpy is up to you). Drowning. Finally being able to rest. Anything having to do with recovery. Dehydration.

The Moon: Nightmares. Lost in the woods. Werewolf character. Illusions or hallucinations. Running on pure survival instinct.

The Sun: Sunburn. Public figure whumpee. Forced to perform. First time outside after being held captive. Heatstroke.

Judgement: Revenge. Sound torture. Deity character. Punishment. Resurrected from the dead.

The World: Endings (positive or negative). Breaking the cycle of abuse. Overwhelmed by choices. Regaining personal autonomy. Closure and acceptance (or lack thereof).

[whump-a-la-mode]

You’ve Heard of Scientist Whumpers, Now Get Ready for Scientist Whumpees!

Whumpee chained to their lab desk, working as the chain clinks with their movements

Whumpee being forced to keep up with ridiculous schedules, Whumper demanding impossible results in impossibly little time

Whumpee being monitored and abused by the guards in their own lab

Whumpee being forced to experiment on their friends

Whumpee sitting alone at night, after they’ve been locked in their cell, stitching up their own wounds

Whumpee working themself to exhaustion until they collapse in their lab, on their feet

Whumpee being held captive in their own lab, now taken over by Whumper

Whumpee being forced to go to conferences, pretending everything is okay, with Whumper by their side the whole time

Maybe Whumpee was once a mad scientist, a danger. Now, they’ve been captured, and the heroes intend on making them work. But, what if the heroes aren’t so nice after all?

Whumpee being beaten and reminded what a monster they are, and that this is the only way they can ever be worth anything to the world

Whumpee being forced to watch as their work is destroyed and they have to start over

Whumpee being too traumatized to ever return to their profession, trembling at the very sight of a beaker

[greatgigintheskiess]

(Non-)Human experiments but make it g/t

Tiny Whumpee who has to undergo terrible torments while being experimented on by Whumper.

They are being examined by a mad scientist who is both fascinated and cruel about their existence, especially if they're non-human. Whumper is testing out different drugs on them, pushing big needles into their tiny body. They manhandle Whumpee, gripping their arms and legs, seeing how long it takes the delicate bones to crack and heal again.

And the tiny is all helpless and in pain, gets locked up in a cage and almost starved to death. Even if they manage to escape and get taken in by a friendly giant who takes care of them, they still get haunted by nightmares and flinch away whenever a large hand just nears them.

The more delighted Caretaker is when Whumpee finally decides to climb on their hand to get held. Caretaker draws a gentle but sad smile and offers them (the so much needed) comfort altough their heart breaks a little.

They're getting there slowly, step by step, but it's still a long way until Whumpee can trust anyone again.

[whumpy-wyrms]

if you were a whumpee what type of whumpee would you be?

ummm that’s a very good question anon one that i definitely haven’t thought about my whole life every single time i imagine whump scenarios in my mind with me as the whumpee

anyway i definitely wouldn’t be completely broken or conditioned, but i also wouldn’t be very defiant either. fear yknow.. like terrified whumpees who are very scared and will do anything to not be hurt.. that’s good soup that’s me. fearfully compliant but obviously does not wanna be there. oh to be kidnapped and tied up in someone’s car and locked in a basement against my will…

i’m not the biggest fan of whumperless whump so if i were a whumpee i’d want the whumper to be a carewhumper (cough cough Anton cough). carewhumpers my absolute beloved i can’t get enough of those guys. you see i would be held captive and restrained (gagged, blindfolded, drugged, etc) but also taken care of :3 they’d like hold me and comfort me and pet me after hurting me and i’d be so scared of them but it’d also be so so cozy.

if i were a whumpee i wouldn’t rlly want to be actually tortured and stuff. hurt a little bit for enrichment (not like this all isn’t enrichment for me) definitely because knives and bruises are very fun but fear is also good too. they would like threaten to hurt and kill me but not actually yknow just to see my scrumptious reaction. though i wouldn’t mind a vampire biting me and drinking my blood or a mad scientist experimenting on me of course. just not like actual full on torture no thank u

this was fun to answer because i think about this a lot.. i’m just a little guy fr…

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

then imagine caretaker being called in to try and calm whumpee down, but it’s too late. whumpee’s voice lashes out like wind, speaking tongues only the ancients know, their power overtaking their own body, ichor dripping from gashes—no longer human, nor ever will be again. there’s nothing caretaker can even do anymore, it’s far too late

but even now, whumpee softens around caretaker. through the mania, they remember the shape of caretaker’s soul and wish no harm upon them, even after laying devastation into the world around them

AUGH EVIL. Oh okay, I never really considered if there’d be a point of no return. If whumpee could become so overcome with their magic that they’ll never fully recover from it, that they could lose their humanity to it.

I’m sure the fate for such mages isn’t pleasant. Are they allowed to burn out in an empty field, magic still sputtering out of their broken body? Are they shot and killed from a distance? Darted and held captive like a wild animal, prodded by scientists still trying to use them? Mages are already treated like ticking time bombs, like weapons with a human mind attached to them. Imagine how they’d be treated if that human mind were to shatter.

I hope you know that I love your idea. Whumpee being gone, everything of who they were carved out and replaced with power and glee, and yet something of them remaining. A fragment, an after image burned into their hollow body. Sometimes the voice speaking in incomprehensible tongues sounds like them. Sometimes the way their body twitches, wracked with power, seems familiar. Sometimes their smile softens, if only for a moment.

It’s not enough to save. It’s just the residue of who Whumpee was, nothing more. But it’s enough to be recognizable. And it gives Caretaker just enough hope to march through the chaos and destruction to reach them.

Caretaker knows what they’re supposed to do. They feel the weight of the weapon at their side, remember that it’s their duty to control Whumpee, not save them. Caretaker knows that a good handler would see that Whumpee is too far gone and put an end to the madness. Uncontrollable weapons need to be put down.

But then Whumpee looks at them. There’s nothing but madness in those eyes, but they’re still Whumpee’s eyes. Even clouded with magic, even covered with blood both their own and foreign, even fully overtaken by power Caretaker could never hope to understand, it’s still Whumpee. And at that moment Caretaker realizes they’d rather die to Whumpee than kill them.

But they don’t die. Even with the chaos around them, Caretaker is never touched. Whumpee’s gaze moves past them, their magic does not harm them. They feel like they’re in the eye of the storm, walking within a cocoon of safety while screams tear through the air. Whumpee does not hear Caretaker’s pleas, their desperate demands that they stop. Caretaker never truly believed that they would have. But Whumpee doesn’t hurt Caretaker either.

Caretaker knows what they should do, what the right thing to do is. Whumpee doesn’t see them as a threat. It’d be simple to kill them.

Caretaker lets the blade from limp fingers and reach out. They grab one of Whumpee’s sparking, twitching hands and squeeze. They like to imagine that, when Whumpee’s hand tightens around their own, it’s a conscious decision.

They’ve never left Whumpee alone in their madness. If Caretaker can’t pull them back, then the least they can do is walk alongside them.

And so they walk with Whumpee as the world is torn apart around them.

[abhainnwhump]

(Content warnings: Lab whump, gore, melting, a lot of melting, fusion, body horror, noncon body modification)

Lab whump where a Whumper takes two Whumpees and combines them together. Bonus points if the Whumpees hate each other and/or are mortal enemies.

They're both lab rats caught to be tested on a medicine designed to help heal, but it goes wrong. Or right, depending on Whumper's motives. Whumpee A looks at their skin dribbling off their hand, melting like ice cream on a hot day. Meanwhile Whumpee B is straight up panicking and grabs onto Whumpee for help, but their hand goes right through them. It becomes part of them. Through their desperate flailing to get away from each other, more of their bodies melt together into a monstrosity. Their voices mix and sound more like gurgling and howling instead of anything. And it hurts.

Whumper cackles like a mad scientist as they watch their new pet try to gain a sense of its surroundings.

[pierceofheart]

Thinking about... a zombie Apocalypse type of setting

a wasteland bare of medical equipment, shelter and food and water.

dangerous and full of zombies that would kill you on sight.

No way to heal those who are left behind due to an injury, no way to cure one who is bitten.

Thinking about a group of survivors, not many because there's little to benefit from big parties of people when you don't have the needed equipment or/and food and water to sustain everyone.

Thinking about Whumpee 2 or Caretaker in the group getting sick/injured or possibly bitten and being left for dead.

They understand, but one does not want to continue without the other by their side and they don't give up on each other.

Maybe they were a tight pair of friends, lovers or possibly just trauma bonded with each other enough to be too dependent on each other to leave.

Thinking about... a mad scientist whumper in this setting

where they are desperately trying to make a cure. Maybe trying to redirect someone bitten, or formerly working with the government to make the cure.

Maybe they crashed completely from isolation and developt a god complex of somekind.

Or the Whumper just clung onto the delusion of making a cure for something possibly incurable to the point of loosing their grip on reality.

and now they need a healthy person(whumpee 2) and a already bitten/zombifief person(whumpee 1).

The whumpee 2 was seen as the weaker link of the two, but the perfect match to try and experiment on. So

Whumper very smoothly lying, manipulating and literally gaslighting the two into trusting him. Offering them food, shelter, fresh water and medical supplies from their own "good will".

Caretaker and whumpee 2 both take the bait and fall into the trap. And while Whumpers keeps Caretaker clueless he lures whumpee 2 to trust them enough to get them completely trapped into a cage next to the bitten/zombified whumpee 1 who had been the first or otherwise there before them.

It's too late when the realize what the fuck is going on.

Just thinking of the horrid smell around the base, the scattered papers. Whumpee 2 being roughly shoved into a cell of some kind and seeing the first Whumpee now turned to a zombie.

While being prodded and poked Whumpee 2 learns about true Whumpers intentions. And now they're being used as little test subjects and a prisoner, a bargain for caretaker to stay when they're too stubborn to leave without whumpee 2.

Just some random tinkering. 0.0 also I'm currently sleep deprived so excuse if the thought isn't completely comprehend-able. I do hope it is at some level lol.

~ Pierce out

[whumpinthepot]

any ideas for asylum and/or lab whump tropes, both hurt and comfort? including whumpees who have carewhumpers theyve come to rely on (ik its kinda specific lol)

Ooooooo, I don’t think its too specific at all actually! If you wanted some more specific prompts or certain oc’s or personality types feel free to shoot me another message or dm! I'm not sure if this is what you’re looking for exactly but maybe it can inspire something for you.

Thank you so much for the ask!!! <3

Cw: gaslighting ment, drugs, restraints, mention of irl old asylums (non descriptive), drug induced psychosis, ummn idk, mental hospitals obvi but may hit close to home to any whos been to them

-

They may have multiple carewhumpers with different motives. One may be a caretaker at heart who is planning an escape for whumpee, or one may be sadistic and possessive, thinking whumpee only as an object to be contained. It depends on their drive and how whumpee acts with them. If you have someone born into a lab say as a lab rat, the scientists may grow attached just out of familiarity and treat that whumpee special compared to newcomers.

If there's an asylum whumpee who’s relying on their carewhumpers the carewhumper could use some form of gaslighting to keep whumpee confused and feeling unsafe enough with their own sanity to constantly need reassurance from the carewhumper. They might feel like they’re a danger to themselves or others unless kept under control by the carewhumper, or be subdued with medication to make them passive enough to be used by carewhumper.

If carewhumper really wanted to keep whumpee disorientated and feeling unsafe they could switch the medication with psychedelics and drive whumpee into having an “episode” when really its drug induced. There's a great deal of comfort that can follow after that if carewhumper wants to make themselves out to be the hero in this scenario.

Or otherwise if the carewhumper wanted an excuse to hurt whumpee without coming off as “the bad guy” they could use the “episode” as an excuse to restrain whumpee, tackle, or physically harm them in what they can say is self defence. This would be in a whumper pretending to be a caretaker scenario…

If you wanted more whump specific prompts like devices and ways to hurt your whumpee you could always look up irl methods that doctors used to use on patients. Just a warning to anyone planning this that some of them can be pretty graphic…

I also feel as though lab and asylum have very different feelings to them even if they intermix together more often than not. I think it really comes down to the lab or asylum's motives, drive, and character. When you know what your scientists/ doctors want from their patients it really helps with ideas for them!

For example I have a lab that takes commissions, so they get hired to do certain things depending on what the customer wants. Be that weapons, medication and drugs, hair growth spray (haha), preservatives, anti aging cream, ect. The more sadistic the customers the more sadistic the experiments become. One of the customers is a literal sadist, so you can imagine some of his requests 😅

[clickerflight]

Fallen: Part 12 - Whispers and Echoes

Author's notes: Suuuuuup I've cleaned up my writing list so I should be writing this story a little more often. Anyways, decided I wanted to give Ivan more attention. Enjoy!

Masterlist - Part 11

Content: henchman whumpee, scientist whumper, vague self harm (scratching), spiraling thoughts, dehumanization, brainwashing, dead body (injuries described), torture, syringes/injections for torture

...............................................

Alpha-2 lay quietly on his bunk. The thin mattress and blanket didn’t do much against the cold of the room, and he couldn’t stop scratching at his arm where he had been injected with more blood. He had the injections more than he ate, and they were beginning to feel more sustaining than food, even if the spreading rash drove him mad as it wandered up his arm. 

He scratched at his arm absentmindedly, staring into the dark, the echoes of sounds and training videos bouncing around in the background of his memory. He’d been very confused lately, and it seemed like the only time he could focus and try to remember what it was he had forgotten that nagged so badly at him was when he was supposed to be sleeping. He should be sleeping. He really should be, but here he lay instead, scratching at his rash and reaching out to remember. 

Was his name always Alpha-2? There had to be something before this, but all he could really remember was the training. He twitched at the thought to be certain his wrists were free and twisted his hand away from scratching to feeling his head. 

No headset. No headset. No training going on right now. Sometimes it felt like he was still there. Or in the box or jar. Had he been in the box or jar today? 

He was too tired to think. He might have been in the jar. He remembered so much noise…..

No. It was training. Physical training. He remembered now. With guns. He had done well. At least, Dr. Leanne seemed pleased.

And with that, his thoughts all seemed to snap into focus. Dr. Leanne was pleased. She was pleased. That was all he really wanted. All he needed. All he needed was her proud look, a touch, a little treat like nothing he could have even dreamed of wanting. 

She brought him peanut butter today. On a spoon. She had watched him eat it with interest, of course, and he had actually cried. It had been so good. He wanted to be so good for her, too. He needed her love and attention. He needed to do whatever she told him to. 

Better than Dr. Anderson. The man seemed to have it out for Alpha-2, setting him to train until he passed out or taking away meals from him for not doing good enough. Nothing like the gentle and loving Dr. LeAnne. 

No, Alpha-2 hated Dr. Anderson, and he badly wanted to strangle the man. He only just resisted most days because of the promise Dr. LeAnne made him. She would let him kill his tormentor. He just needed to be patient. And he would be ready. 

He slid out of his bunk and got on the floor, running through another set of pushups and situps even though he was so sore from his training it felt like his muscles were on fire. But he pushed through it, embracing and becoming the pain. He would be good enough. He would kill Dr. Anderson. He would recapture the asset. He would excel at everything Dr. LeAnne put before him. Be the perfect weapon. 

Still, something nagged at him. Something he couldn’t remember. Something that coated his limbs with gel, soaking him with sound and loneliness. Something-

A scream split the background noise in his mind, leaving him breathless on the floor, nails dug into his rash. A voice pleading, begging for relief. Someone screaming for help and then-

Alpha-2 blinked. What was that? Who was that? They sounded so scared. His heart ached for them. If he wasn’t so wrapped up in his own quest he would have found some way to help them. Was that it? His mind wanted him to remember some guilt for not being enough?

No, it wasn’t that, but he couldn’t think of what it could be. And at the end of the day, it could have been his own scream. Stars knew he had screamed plenty before his mental training was complete. 

And he would likely scream more. He still had mental training ahead of him that he would have to complete. 

Though, Dr. LeAnne said it wouldn’t be so bad. It was supposed to give him back some of his mental sharpness. It would organize the confusion that the first one had caused and he would be fine. No more of these late night musings and confusion. He would sleep peacefully again. 

He looked forward to it. He hoped the training took away this nagging feeling. It left him restless and nervous, jumping at small sounds and straining his mind when he was supposed to be paying attention to orders. A split attention would spell death for him on missions, that he knew. He was supposed to be focused, trained on the objective. 

And the objective now was to sleep. He supposed he could give it a try and get some practice in for when his training was complete. 

He got back into his bunk and curled up under the blanket, forcing his eyes closed. 

The echoing sounds from the jar wouldn’t leave him, bouncing around his brain like a screen saver. 

A screen saver? On a computer? When did he last use a computer like that?

His mind wouldn’t go back past the training in that room, strapped to a chair for what had been forever, it seemed. His whole life even. Perhaps he was born in that room. 

No, be quiet. Be quiet. It’s time to sleep. He should be sleeping so he was rested for the training Dr. LeAnne would be doing with him tomorrow. She said something about memory games and testing for bad memories. He hoped it wouldn’t be unpleasant. And that she had more apples and peanut butter. What he wouldn’t do for peanut butter. 

Quiet! Sleep! He was supposed to be sleeping!

The noise was still as loud as ever, and his desire to think on top of it to try and drown it all out was too strong. 

Before he could lose himself to another spiral, however, he heard the click of the door lock. 

He was sitting on the edge of his bed without thinking, his arms folded behind him and his eyes vacantly directed towards the wall across from him. 

The door opened and Dr. Anderson stepped in, eyeing him with a good amount of disdain and disgust. 

Alpha-2 happily imagined skinning the man alive before gutting him like a pig. 

“Alpha-2. Come with me.”

Alpha-2 got to his feet without a thought, following Dr. Anderson with his back straight and his arms still folded behind him. 

Down the long hallways they went and into a training room. A small one that smelled like blood. 

There was a dead body hanging with a hook through its hands. 

Dr. Anderson lifted the head up by the hair, watching Alpha-2’s face for any expression. “Thoughts?”

“Neutralized, sir,” Alpha-2 replied simply. 

“Look closer.”

Still dead, Alpha-2 thought to himself, feeling alive again, feeling more normal now that he had something to focus on. 

The body was fresh, the face a rictus of horror and exhaustion. The skin was flayed, nose broken, feet crushed. Tortured. 

He studied the face. Maybe this was the start of his memory tests? Did he remember this face? 

He stared for a long time, studying the bridge of the nose, the freckles, the cheekbones. That nagging sensation grew stronger and he thought he heard a whispered voice through the noise in his head. 

“If the boss isn’t busy tonight, we should all go out to the bar. You know, the hidden one on the East side.”

And then it was gone. The words stayed, but they meant nothing to him. Just a sense of a more peaceful time and the scent of bourbon. 

He shook his head. “Familiar, sir, but I do not remember this man.”

Dr. Anderson’s face took on a darker cast. “Familiar?”

“Yes, sir,” Alpha-2 replied, unable to lie to one of his masters. 

“Familiar is too much,” the scientist hissed. “We’ll see if we can’t beat that out of you.”

The door opened and he was grabbed, but he didn’t fight. He couldn’t fight. Not yet. Dr. LeAnne told him to wait. 

He was hauled off to another quiet room, a chair waiting at the center. 

He was sat in it, his legs tied to the legs and his arms bound heavily behind the chair. 

The guards stepped back to either side of the door as Dr. Anderson grabbed something from the corner of the room. He curled his lip at Alpha-2 and said, “I am the one in charge here, you hear me? I know Dr. LeAnne has some plan with you, and I intend to make sure you never betray me.”

Dr. Anderson stepped forward, pulling a cart from the shadowy corner behind him. There were all manner of devices on the cart. Of these, he picked up a syringe full of some orange substance. 

He plunged it into Alpha-2’s leg before going back to the cart. 

Whatever was in the syringe strung as it traveled up and down his leg, forcing his muscles to spasm with so much pain that Alpha-2 only just barely kept from yelling out. 

He gritted his teeth, sweat breaking out on his forehead and it didn’t stop there. 

The waves of pain spread up through his body, stronger and stronger, causing his breathing to hitch uselessly as his diaphragm spasmed, unable to scream now that he actually wanted to, his chest hurting as it made its way up and down farther. His toes and fingers curled, cramping horribly as his head twitched back into the chair, bruising his crown as his jaw spasmed. 

Then, just as it consumed his whole body, cramping every muscle he had, it faded. 

He gasped for breath, sweet air traveling to his lungs, blood trickling from his lips where he accidentally bit off the tip of his tongue. 

“That is only a taste,” Dr. Anderson said with a patronizing smile. “I have a whole trial of them I can show you. I’ve watered them all down, of course, so they only last for a few moments rather than the hours they normally would. I’ve been meaning to test some of them for a while now.”

He walked around to Alpha-2’s blindspot. “Now, I need you to understand that I am only doing this so you know what you will be facing if you betray me, understand? All this and more until you’re only good as an organ donor for our other projects. You are not as important as Dr. LeAnne thinks you are, understand? And even if you were, I have full access to you. I could do this to you every night, if I wanted. And none of it will ever leave a mark.”

Alpha-2 shuddered. The pain was so awful for only those few moments. Hours would surely kill him. How would he breathe? His heart would give out. Nevermind what else Dr. Anderson was going to give him. 

“We have a long night ahead of us,” Dr. Anderson pointed out. “And I have quite a few vials here that we need to test out. Let’s get started.”

Part 13 - Coming soon

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[iamhumannotamonster]

Whumpers who are doing this for the greater good.

-Mad scientist experimenting on someone to find the cure for a horrible illness: A zombie being experimented on to overcome the apocalipse, a monster whose flesh and blood has healing properties, etc.

- A monarch or someone working for a monarch, summoning and trapping a demon/fae/magical creature, forcing them to use their powers. The creature is the key to win their country´s war, to stop the suffering of their people, regardless of what the whumpee feels about fighting a war, regardless of their wounds and pain caused by overusing their powers.

- A mentor, who knows whumpee is the only one who can save the world but is in the “refusal of the calling” stage of their journey decides there is no time to wait until whumpee comes to their senses. They may theaten and hurt whumpee or one of their loved ones.