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whumpdrivethru · 10 months

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can I get cyborg whumpee and scientist whumper with a side of psychological torture ? : 3

Hey!! Sorry for the delay, the ice cream machine is still broken, but here it is!

Enjoy!

Cw// dehumanization, “it” as a pronoun, cyborg vivisection, thoughts about death, begging for death, mechanical gore, body horror

The cyborg couldn’t scream. Any of its vocal functions had been turned off before it was strapped to the table. Technically its motor functions could be shut off as well, but that would interfere with its creator’s work.

“If your limbs are sleeping, we can’t find the problem, Whumpee.”

It was a casual Friday evening for a rewiring, according to its creator, the mad scientist who built it almost four years ago.

And “life” had been nothing but agony since.

“Do you want to apologize to me?” The cyborg shook its head, not because it didn’t want to apologize, but because Scientist held a particularly sensitive wire between gloved fingers. A sinking feeling wound through the mass of wires and electronics that was its abdomen. While not entirely human, it still had all the characteristics of one. Including pain receptors. It could still feel pain. “No?”

It had punched Scientist earlier during training and had been taken to the lab as soon as the session concluded. The punch wasn’t meant to be as hard as it was, but a glitch made sure to knock the wind out of the scientist and leave them a nasty bruise. It had only panicked when Scientist grabbed and dragged it into the gym. It raised its arm to push Scientist away and…

“No- no! I want to-“ the wire was tugged, Whumpee letting out a silent shriek. Its eyes widened, threatening to burst from its head as it threw its head back. It wailed and sobbed until it was exhausted, Scientist still holding the dark green wire in their hand. It had considerably more slack now it had been jerked with such force, and Whumpee was left shaking on the verge of passing out.

“Please,” Whumpee begged, blinking tears from its eyes. “Please, I’ll apologize. I’ll apologize!”

“What did I tell you about begging, Whumpee?” Whumpee nodded, swallowing silently. While Scientist wasn’t good at lip-reading, the word ‘please’ was easy enough to understand. No begging in the lab. The lab wasn’t a punishment. The lab was there to help it when it had problems.

There had been two other incidents earlier in the month. Scientist didn’t pay as much attention as they did the third time, probably because the previous two didn’t involve them directly. One of them was with an intern (it was delivering a drink to him when the same malfunction made its hand clamp down on the cup, spraying everybody with hot coffee) and a nurse (she was punched in the face out of fear just as Scientist was).

“Good. Hold still, now.” Whumpee’s vision went white as the wire was cut. Its eyes rolled into the back of its head as it let out, if its vocal functions were on, a glass-shattering cry.

…

It came to as Scientist was reconnecting wires to each other, around the Problem Wire and weaving them together like a wicker basket. Scientist looked up from their work at Whumpee and smiled, sending chills down Whumpee’s spine. A wire was tugged just then, making Whumpee convulse.

“I’m sorry,” Whumpee sobbed as Scientist continued to push and pull wires in different directions. “I’m so sorry! I’m sorry for everything!”

Eventually, Whumpee was given a break. Scientist had finished weaving wires together and had replaced their grease-drenched gloves.

“Do you understand why this is happening, Whumpee?” Whumpee shook its head, the motions small and sharp. Pain clouded its thoughts. It couldn’t put together a word in its head, its brain a plate of scrambled eggs.

“You are an experiment. Experiments are temporary,” Scientist began, pulling a tray from the rolling cart and placing it to the side. “But I didn’t design you to break so soon.” Whumpee screamed as wire after wire was pulled to its maximum length and secured with tight clips on the tray. “This is the third rewiring this month, Whumpee.” Whumpee shook its head as Scientist moved lower down its abdominal cavity. “And the month isn’t half over yet. This isn’t a good look on you.” Whumpee agreed. It wasn’t a good look at all. If Scientist was right about anything, they were right that if it didn’t stop malfunctioning, there would be problems worse than just a rewiring. Whumpee didn’t even want to think about that.

“So tell me, Whumpee. What should I do with you?” Scientist’s gloved hand, already coated in grease again, reached for Whumpee’s vocal controls and the dial was turned back up. It took a shaking breath, choking out a sob.

“I-“ Scientist had their hand around another wire. This one, it felt, wasn’t a problem at all. So why-

An impossibly loud scream echoed around the room as Scientist tugged on it. Itdidn’thaveaproblemwhywasScientistcreatingoneitwasfinethewirewasfineitwasfinewhyweretheyplayingwithitwhywhywhywhywhy

“Answer, Whumpee. What should I do with something broken like you?”

“F-fix-“ it tried to speak between sobs and hiccups, avoiding the piercing gaze of its creator. “Fix m- m-“ another cry as the wire was tugged again. “Fix me!” It didn’t know if Scientist could understand what it said until Scientist shook their head.

“I’m not sure about that. I have many more experiments to tend to and each time I have to fix you, I waste time.” The wire was bent, and Whumpee howled.

“Then- then scrap me!” It resisted the urge to add a ‘please,’ but even if it tried, it could only cry as the wire was bent back to its original position. “I can’t- I-“ Whumpee didn’t want to live. But it didn’t want to die. “I.. I-“ Scientist’s hand was on the vocal control dial and its voice faded away to nothing.

“Oh, Whumpee.” Whumpee sobbed pitifully in silence as Scientist began to work again. “You know I love you too much to scrap you just for a few malfunctions, right?” Whumpee shook its head. “We’ll manage them together, okay?” The pain continued as its creator made some finishing touches to its wiring. There was no more jerking or pulling, though. One type of torture was replaced with another from the strong pinching of those damn clips. It didn’t know what was worse. Scientist said the clips were only temporary, but last time they were used, they stayed for two weeks. It was ‘only to make sure the wires learned to stay in place.’

Bullshit.

“Well, that should do it.” The empty tray was placed back onto the cart and gloves were changed again. Then, Whumpee’s abdomen plate was fitted back on. Whumpee whimpered as each screw was tightened and the suction mechanism activated. Finally, Scientist took a special screwdriver from their pocket and inserted it into Whumpee’s VC panel. There was a click, and the nightly ritual of locking Whumpee’s VC dial in place was complete. “The skin layer should regrow itself within the week. So no sharp movements.” That wasn’t its fault. Whumpee glared up at Scientist, who returned a smile that made its blood boil.

“Now let’s get you back to your room.” Agony persisted as it was pulled from the table and fitted back into its regular restraints. The first rewiring of the month was the hardest. It took twice as long because the synthetic skin had to be cut away before its abdominal plate could be reached. Two rewirings later, and only a thin layer of skin had managed to grow over the plate. Hopefully it wouldn’t need a fourth for a long time.

“Walk,” Scientist ordered. Whumpee took one step and collapsed. After a day lying strapped to a table, its legs weren’t used to the sudden weight of the mechanics in its upper body. “Okay…” it took two lab assistants to haul it up to its feet. “Walk it back to its room. Slowly.” Whumpee took small steps and the lab assistants let it guide them, only because they were struggling to pull it ahead. Finally they reached Whumpee’s cell, marked only with the number 559. The door was opened and Whumpee was gently let down onto the floor. There was a bed, but the assistants’ faces were red as tomatoes. It didn’t want to injure them too. The smaller assistant flashed it a pitying look as he left the room.

“Goodnight, Whumpee,” he quietly called, and the door was shut, leaving it in absolute darkness.

Whumpee dragged itself to the corner of its cell, propping itself up against the walls. A hard surface on either side of its body helped support it as it held its stomach in pain. That did nothing. Pressing on the hard plate, unable to reach the terrible burning inside, was a torture of its own. Whumpee cried, hands and fingers twitching as it squeezed its side. That gave it something to hold onto, but it only made Whumpee more aware of the pain. It could feel the clamps. It could feel where wires had been cut, pulled, tied, and woven together. It could feel it all.

“Please,” it called into the darkness, falling against the corner. Now that it was out of the lab, it was allowed to beg. Even if nobody could hear it. “Please, make it stop.” Nobody knew it was here. After Scientist locked its VC dial in place, it wasn’t speaking until the next morning.

“Please, help me.”

You’ve been served by Quill. Come again soon!! :)

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