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only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are · 3 months

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I have a very specific whump idea for y’all but to get to it you will have to listen to my historical ramblings. But I promise there is a whump prompt at the end.

So, Revolution-era France, when everybody was chopping everybody else’s heads off with the guillotine, ended after Robespierre, the man behind the whole thing, was himself beheaded. The nobility, who had been the main targets of the guillotine, reacted to the Revolution ending in a…rather macabre way.

They started dressing differently. The men often wore very bright colors and outrageously elaborate suits of clothes, as a symbol of the return to the noble days.

Women went a different direction- they started dressing like the guillotine victims.

Before a prisoner was beheaded, their hair would be cut short, so that nothing would interfere with the guillotine blade. Women after the Revolution mimicked this, cutting their hair short and baring their necks in one of the first acceptable short hair trends for women (known as coiffure a la victime.) They would wear thin, gauzy white dresses to copy the way prisoners often were only allowed to wear their undergarments when they were in prison before their execution. Since prisoners went to the guillotine barefoot, women started to go barefoot to match. Red shawls were also popular- the assassin Charlotte Corday wore a red shawl to her execution, so women copied her look. Red chokers, ribbons, or necklaces around the neck, where the guillotine would have cut, became fashionable across the board. Women would have “prison portraits” painted of themselves in these outfits as if they were languishing in a cold, dark prison cell, pretending to be victims of the guillotine.

Basically, the national trauma of the Revolution became a fashion trend. It was likely a way to heal from the experience and feel closer to those that had been lost to the guillotine, and also poking fun at the failed Revolution by dressing like its victims.

But they took it to really absurd levels. There’s one part of this in particular that I’m fascinated by, even though the actual historicity of it is debatable.

Bals de la victimes- victim’s balls.

These were (supposedly) grand balls held by the recovering nobility. Sometimes, the guest list was restricted to people who had lost relatives to the guillotine or narrowly escaped it themselves- one ball was allegedly held specifically for the now-adult children of guillotined nobles.

Everything about these balls was meant to evoke this trend. You would come wearing either black mourning clothes or one of those prisoner-esque outfits, and you would wear one of the red strings or ribbons around your neck. Instead of gracefully bowing to your dancing partner, you would nod your head sharply downward to mimic the moment of decapitation. Often, people who had been in prison during the Revolution were the guests of honor.

So, what does all this have to do with whump?

I’ve been thinking about this idea for a bit now, of taking something traumatic and turning it into an elaborate parody for the sake of fashion. And I’m thinking…what if whumpers did that?

I imagine a whole room full of whumpers, dressed in fine fabrics tastefully ripped and torn and stained to evoke the imagery of the people they’re holding captive back home. Silk “bandages” wrapped over nonexistent wounds. Jewelry carefully designed to look like shackles and collars. Hair styled just messy enough to look as if it hasn’t been cared for. Makeup done to resemble hollow-cheeked, bruised faces. Maybe even fake scars and injuries painted on, bloodstains that are meant to be beautiful.

Perhaps the food served at this party is designed to resemble the kind of simple fare a whumpee usually gets- gruel or table scraps or what-have-you, though of course it’s all the best ingredients and only made to look that way. Maybe the room is decorated to look like a prison cell, or a bare cellar or attic, or a laboratory. Maybe there’s weapons or torture devices hung up on the walls, although they’re not real, just pretty fakes. Maybe someone brings their actual whumpee to attend as the “guest of honor”, and the guests bombard them all night, demanding to know what being a whumpee is really like, wanting every last detail so that they can make the next ball even more realistic.

Just- that whole concept of taking something so intensely traumatic and turning it into nothing more than a party theme. It’s fascinating to me and if I have the time, I’m going to try and write something with it. At the moment, though, it’s going to live here as a whump prompt.

(I told you there’d be whump at the end.)

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only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are · 3 months

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Febuwhump Day 1: Helpless

tw: forced drugging, restraints, medical whump, forced brain surgery, implied mind control, stun weapon

It was like hitting a brick wall.

One minute, Toshiro was slamming into henchman after henchman, taking them out at a speed faster than the human mind could comprehend. The next minute, his face was rapidly meeting the floor.

His ears were ringing, his vision blurring as his eyes threatened to close on him. His muscles were weak, and it was if someone had pulled the plug on the nerves connecting his brain to his body. The tile floor was cold against his cheek as he fell to the floor with an embarrassing thump, as gracefully as a sack of potatoes, and equally able to move.

Some kind of stun gun. Stunning... thing. Vibrations. His newly fogged mind tried to reason through the situation. He was in the middle of Dr. Moon's lair, and although he'd cut a wide swath through her armored goons and lab interns, he hadn't spotted the good doctor herself yet.

Which meant that this was probably all a trap, and he had obligingly raced into it at top speed.

Fuck. Whatever that weapon was had rendered him helpless. Unless he could recover quickly, he'd be screwed.

He struggled to regain his bearings through the dizziness, managing to force his weakened arms to push him up off the floor, when the low, strong vibrations racked his body again and knocked his tenuous grasp on control far away.

"Well, now, I'd call that experiment a rousing success," said a familiar and infuriatingly smug voice.

Toshiro struggled to focus on the clean white sneakers that stepped in front of his face. Dr. Moon crouched down in front of him, grabbing his chin and directing his blurred gaze into hers.

"Did you enjoy it as well?"

"Fffff..." Toshiro tried to get his mouth to cooperate enough to at least tell her to fuck off.

"Fantastic? Fabulous? Is that what you're trying to say? I think that's what you're trying to say," she said, nonchalantly snapping thick metal restraints on Toshiro's wrists.

Oh, this situation was getting better and better, wasn't it? He could probably use his supersonic vibration to break these cuffs, but it would take some time, and that was at full power, which he most certainly was not. He was still stunned enough that he felt like he might pass out at any moment.

"Don't worry, you're in good hands now, my dear little hero," she said, running a hand through his hair. "Katie, can you get my guest his little party favor?"

A young woman in a lab coat looked confused by the request. "Party favor...?"

Dr. Moon sighed. "The IV. I'm talking about the IV I had you prepare."

"Oh, yes!" she said. "Right away, doctor."

"And let's make him more comfortable! Can two of you get him onto the surgical table?"

"Yes, doctor."

IV drugs? Surgical table? Toshiro's blood ran cold. What the hell was she planning? Her experiments had roughed him up many a time, but she'd never done anything like this.

"Whaaaa..." he slurred pathetically, flopping like a dead fish as a couple of henchmen lifted him onto a padded table. He was still too numb and dazed to fight, and his window of escape seemed to rapidly be coming to a close. As a couple of scrawny scientists effortlessly held him down on the table -- humiliating enough that his embarrassment fought with his growing fear -- Katie returned with a large bag of translucent blue liquid on an IV pole.

"Oh, you're going to just love this, Toshiro," Dr. Moon said, brandishing the IV line's needle with theatrical flair. "You never get enough breaks, do you? I'm about to give you a nice long one."

Toshiro couldn't help his composure breaking slightly. It was one thing to be injured while fighting, or even to be captured and tortured. It was another thing entirely to be rendered unconscious, completely defenseless against whatever the mad scientist wanted to do with him.

"No need to look so upset. This won't hurt at all. You're just going to get very, very sleepy. You'll be just a bit drowsy and slow for the next, oh, let's say the next while. I wouldn't operate any heavy machinery."

She was bringing that IV needle closer to his elbow. He summoned all of his strength to try and pull away, knowing that as soon as he had that drug pumping into his body, it'd all be over. Unfortunately, his muscles were still largely unresponsive from the double stun just a few minutes ago.

Damn it, he had to -- !

The doctor effortlessly got the IV into his vein with a practiced hand, taping it down securely. He looked on in horror as the light blue liquid snaked down the tube and into his arm, willing the drug to somehow stop before it reached him. His arm felt cold and heavy at the injection site as the sedative began to flow freely into his system.

"That should kick in long before you get your bearings from my wonderful stun weapon," she said, stroking his cheek and looking down at him with malicious glee. "And I want to drink every last drop of your fear as you go under."

Toshiro glared as best as he could, testing his powers. Maybe if he could get his supersonic speed working, he could dislodge the IV from his elbow before he absorbed too much of the drug. His fast metabolism meant it took a lot to put him down, anyway.

He was already so groggy from being stunned, and so focused on forcing his uncooperative body to move, that he didn't even notice the buzzing in the back of his skull until it was too late. In seconds, the buzzing transformed into a deep drowsiness, muffling his thoughts like a blanket of fresh-fallen snow, draining him of energy, making his eyelids droop.

"And there it is!" said Dr. Moon with a cackle. "Isn't that the most delicious feeling of helplessness? You look so tired already. Don't fight it, now. Just let my beautiful drugs sing you to sleep. A nice little lullaby..."

Toshiro's efforts to try to shake the IV off had turned into a desperate struggle against the urge to give in and go to sleep. He was so exhausted, and he could feel his mind zoning in and out, his eyelids threatening to close. But he couldn't give in.

"Don't worry, you'll be sedated, but not entirely unconscious. We can't have you fully under for brain surgery, you know."

The shock of adrenaline forced his eyes back open. Fuck. Anything but that.

"No need to panic, it's not a lobotomy. We don't use ugly words like that here. And my methods are far more precise," she said, as Toshiro's heart raced. "I'm just going to... slow you down. Make you more malleable. Easily influenced, let's say. And at only a small cost to your intelligence."

His half-asleep mind woke up enough to panic. Suddenly, he could move. He felt strength in his arm again, enough strength to try and shake free of the IV line that would be the end of him.

He had to get it out at any cost. If he didn't, when he next woke up, he might be some stupefied henchman to his archnemesis, his faculties cut out and left on the floor of her lair. A fate far worse than death -- at least in death, he'd be remembered as a hero. Not remembered as a drooling, dull-witted minion who used to be a hero, cut down by one of his former comrades.

No, he couldn't allow that.

His powers responded, and he willed his super speed to vibrate his arm hard enough to loosen the tape, to dislodge the needle. As soon as he got rid of the threat of the drug, he could break free of the bonds and escape.

"Oh, dear," said Dr. Moon. "Katie, be a dear and take the fight out of our guest again."

Toshiro's eyes widened just before he felt the stun weapon rumble through his body. His hold over his power slipped, his limbs sinking back onto the table. Disoriented and unable to move, the sedative quickly took hold of him once again.

"There, there." The doctor replaced the tape on the IV line. "Just relax, go to sleep, and it will all be over soon. Poor, helpless hero."

He groaned weakly, Dr. Moon's evil grin fading from sight as his vision tunneled.

"He's almost out. Finish preparation in the operating room," she said over her shoulder, before turning back to him. She leaned in close and whispered in his ear, running a hand through his hair. "If all goes well, you won't be waking up as yourself ever again," she cooed. "You're going to go to sleep, and I'm going to win."

Her voice sounded muffled, from far away, and his tongue was too thick and clumsy to respond back.

"Go to sleep. Just go to sleep..."

----

I've been struggling a bit with writing and the Febuwhump prompts looked delicious, so I decided to do a few of them!

New Bookseller chapter soon, promise.

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only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are · 3 months

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INCREDIBLE OML

chemical imbalance

You know that trope where horrifying things are treated as mundane? You know that trope where the whumper is talking around the whumpee like they aren't even a person? This is that story.

TW: alien abduction, alien parasites, body horror, brainwashing, mind control, restraints, tentacles, forced drugging, forced medical examination, complete dehumanization, condescension, defiant whumpee

The receptionist was young and lovely, their skin a fetching shade of blue-purple, and their human host was healthy and smiling, with the dazed, glassy expression that indicated it was well taken care of.

5X2 couldn't help the wave of intense jealousy. Their own human host's gut churned in panic. It was lucid enough to know it was being brought to the doctor, and didn't like the idea at all, stress hormones flooding its fragile body. 5X2 pumped out chemicals to soothe it, beamed calming imagery into its mind, even tried to reassure it through its psychic connection that it was just the doctor, the doctor was going to help it, and hopefully they'd both be feeling better.

All of their efforts only put the smallest dent in the distress their host was feeling. Well, no wonder -- 5X2 couldn't even remember the last time their poor host had properly slept. They took a deep breath, reassuring their human host that they weren't angry at it, not at all. They loved their host and knew it wasn't its fault it was struggling so hard. The host thrashed mentally, adrenaline rising, coming dangerously close to waking fully as 5X2 wrangled its consciousness back under control.

"I'm 5X2-YLL, and I'm here for my 3100 appointment," they said to the receptionist, hoping they couldn't tell how much trouble they were having with their human.

Sympathetic waves rolled from the receptionist as they looked 5X2 up and down. Oh, they could tell. 5X2 knew their human looked an absolute mess, with a wild expression, deep bags under its eyes, and poor hygiene. The past few days, 5X2 had even taken sick leave from work, embarrassed to go out in public in this state -- that's how they knew they had no choice but to make a doctor's appointment.

"Right this way, 5X2. The doctor is running a bit behind, but if you'll just go into this examination room, they'll be with you shortly. Please have your host change into this medical gown... if you're able."

"Yes, thank you." The door clicked shut behind the receptionist as 5X2 looked around the small examination room. It looked like any other doctor's office, but they couldn't help but notice that the examination chair had formidable looking restraints on it. They supposed it was to be expected for a doctor who specialized in disorders of host control.

The far too lucid human noticed too, and all of its muscles tensed as it signaled to every corner of its body to escape, escape, escape. 5X2 had no choice but to inject yet another low dose of paralytics into its bloodstream, just to make sure it couldn't actually act on that misguided impulse.

The paralytics kept the human from moving, but also meant that 5X2 had to do much more manual work puppeting its body, and they were so, so tired. With their host's clumsy fingers, they pulled off their shoes, shirt, and pants, and slipped on the flimsy medical gown. The human was expressing distress at having their physical form exposed, of all the ridiculous things. Sometimes 5X2 wished that its constant fears at least made sense. Instead, it was scared of the doctor, of being nude, even of the everyday, ordinary sight of other human hosts with their passengers atop their heads, tentacles nestled neatly in their ears and euphoric expressions on their faces.

I'm trying to help you, 5X2 conveyed through their psychic connection for what seemed like the billionth time this cycle.

All they got back in return was terror, anger, and the intense desire to go home.

We can go home after the appointment, 5X2 reminded it, beaming soothing images of their quarters, the cheery artificial sun lamp, their collection of exotic plants, their vibrant fiber arts, the beautiful view of stars from out of their window. Their host had always been calmed by these things in better days, but it wasn't working now. It didn't make any sense to 5X2 -- if it wanted to go home so badly, why didn't it respond to sensory landscapes of home?

Surely it wasn't lucid enough to desire its human habitat...? The human habitat was a death world compared to the safety and comfort of the space station.

There was a knock on the door, and the doctor walked into the room. They carried an air of authority about them, perched on top of a petite human who moved with unusual grace. "Hello, 5X2," said the doctor in a kindly voice. "I understand you're here because you're having difficulty in controlling your human host. Is that correct?"

5X2 looked anywhere but at the doctor, pretending to be very interested in a cabinet full of jars of multi-colored fluids. "Ah, yes, that's correct."

"There's no need to be ashamed. There's a lot of unfair stigma attached to host difficulties, but I assure you that it's a far more common problem than you think. There's no judgement here. Please, tell me about what you've been experiencing."

"My human host is almost completely lucid for most of the cycle," 5X2 confessed, trying to suppress their waves of shame and sadness. "I can't keep it fully entranced, I can't soothe it, I can't even put it to sleep. It's constantly scared and stressed and won't stop filling its body with adrenaline."

"I see."

"I have to spend so much of my energy just keeping it from fully waking, and it's affecting my work and my social life. I can't even relax on my days off, because every time I let my guard down, it decides it's a good time to fight me," they said. "I love my host, but I'm at my limit. I can't go on like this. It's sick all of the time from stress hormones, and I'm constantly fatigued. If there's anything you can do, anything at all that would help..."

The doctor's host nodded sagely. "There's a number of common conditions that could cause symptoms like you're describing. If you don't mind, I'd like to take a blood sample from your host so we can run some lab tests while conducting the examination."

"Of course," said 5X2, holding out their host's arm while the doctor prepared a needle for the blood draw. As the needle grazed the host's skin, the human managed to wrest enough control to jerk backwards, irrationally panicked at the sight of the needle. "I'm so sorry. It's been especially determined to fight me on everything today."

"It's nothing to worry about. I see it all the time. Hosts can be smarter than we give them credit for -- it's probably realized that the doctor's appointment is for putting it back under."

"But why does it fight that? That doesn't make any sense -- doesn't it want to be calm and happy? Why would it want to be stressed and miserable?"

"Oh, it's not that it wants to be stressed and miserable. It's just the natural state of hosts that aren't fully entranced. It's not its fault that it's acting this way -- it just doesn't know any better," said the doctor. "To make the examination easier, it might be best if we strapped your host into the chair, if you don't mind the restricted mobility."

"Not at all. It'd be a relief to not have to suppress their impulses," said 5X2. Their human predictably howled with displeasure, scraping and clawing for any bit of control over its limbs as 5X2 fought its body into the chair and tried to hold it still as the doctor restrained it. It was even managing to resist the paralytics, utterly desperate to escape.

If this doctor couldn't help them, 5X2 was going to lose their mind.

With the host's body securely restrained, the doctor was finally able to take a blood sample. The human's consciousness was thrashing like a wounded dust-moth, but with their body secured, 5X2 could devote their whole efforts to dampening their mental distress.

"If you'll excuse me a moment, I'll bring this to the lab. We should get results in around ten deciclicks."

5X2 tried to relax in the chair as the doctor left the room, but of course their exhausting host was having none of it.

Why are you fighting so hard? they asked.

The answer was always the same.

I want to go home. I don't want to be a host. I don't want to be hypnotized again. Please let me go.

Incoherent nonsense. The poor, confused thing.

"All right, that's taken care of," said the doctor, entering the room and perching on a nearby stool. "Now, may I ask you some questions? How long have you been noticing these symptoms?"

"About a quarter star turn."

"I see. And have you previously sought help for them?"

"...No. I really should have, before it got to this point, but I was ashamed. I thought it was temporary, and that I could fix my host myself."

"At least you're here now. You're doing the right thing," said the doctor encouragingly. "How often does the human sleep?"

"Only once every few cycles, and for only a few clicks at a time. I can't keep it to anything resembling a schedule, either, and it doesn't seem to respond to sedation at all. The only mercy is that it often sleeps while I'm at work."

"And how do you normally soothe it?"

"I think I've tried just about everything. Before this all started, it was so easy -- a quick wash of sedative and neurotoxin, some soothing hallucinations, a little gentle urging of slumber, and it was out in a milliclick. It would normally sleep for half the cycle. But now, nothing works. Not toxins, not hallucinations, not psychic compulsions. It doesn't matter what I do, I simply cannot put it to sleep. The only reason it sleeps at all is because its own consciousness turns itself off when it becomes too exhausted."

"You say it was easily controlled before?"

"Very much so. It took very well to deep trance, especially if I was listening to music. It enjoyed art and scenery and was calm as can be. I never imagined it was capable of so much anxiety."

"How close is its consciousness to the surface?"

"...Very. It's listening to everything we're saying. It might even be able to understand us. Well, as much as any host is capable of understanding."

"Has it ever become fully awake?"

5X2 hesitated.

"Please, don't be ashamed. I'm here to help you, but I need you to answer my questions honestly. Has it ever become fully awake?"

"...A handful of times," 5X2 admitted. "It didn't get very far before I was able to paralyze it and return it to my control, but... it was so terrifying, to feel my host wake, to take full control from me and do what it wished with its body."

"That's a very traumatic experience," said the doctor sympathetically. "Once we have the main issue sorted out, I recommend a visit to memory alteration to remove the unnecessary fear generation."

"Won't they judge me for losing control of my human?"

The doctor seemed lightly amused. "5X2, it's the memory alteration department. Don't you think they've seen far worse than that?"

"You're right, just a silly insecurity on my part," said 5X2, mirroring the doctor's amusement.

"Let me perform some quick examinations on your host's body while we have you here," said the doctor. "Your host is partially lucid and fearful right now, correct?"

"Extremely so," said 5X2, feeling the horrible squirm in their host's gut at the mention of the doctor examining it.

The doctor waved a small light in front of the human's eyes. "Pupils are very dilated. It's focusing clearly on my light, indicating a high degree of responsiveness. Dark circles indicate a dangerous lack of sleep, and the skin seems unusually flaky and dry. This all matches the symptoms you've described."

They moved around to 5X2's side, using the light to peer into its host's ear. "Everything looks healthy and normal here," they said, giving a slight tug to 5X2's left connector tentacle. "Connection seems firm. I assume it's enmeshed with the correct portions of the brain? You have at least six tendrils on each side of the frontal lobe, three in the parietal, and two in the occipital?"

"Of course, doctor."

"I know it sounds obvious, but I have to ask. Believe it or not, I've had more than one patient that neglected to enmesh the frontal lobe entirely. You can imagine what kind of a state their poor host was in."

"I'm amazed that anyone in this age is so ignorant. That sounds like torture for them."

"You're not wrong," said the doctor, clicking off their light. "From the outside, there doesn't seem to be any issues, but if we can't resolve the problem, we may need to do some scans to check that all of your tendrils are properly connected. It's uncommon, but there are certain disorders that prevent proper cohesion of tendril to host brain."

"I'll subject myself to any tests if it will help."

"I know how intensely uncomfortable it must be to have your host so wakeful, for both you and it," said the doctor. "I'm certain we can help you. It's extremely rare for this sort of problem to be beyond the reach of modern medicine."

A knock at the door, and the receptionist entered the room. "I have the results from the lab for you," they said, slipping out again quickly.

The doctor's host took the readout and looked it over, as 5X2 waited in anticipation and 5X2's host trembled in terror. Finally, there was a wave of satisfaction from the doctor. "I have good news for you, 5X2. The lab results may have given us an important clue to your problem."

"Truly? What is it?"

"You see here..." The doctor placed the readout in front of 5X2. It was full of miniature graphs and jargon that they didn't have a hope of understanding. "Most of the toxin levels in the human's blood were highly elevated -- no doubt due to your efforts to keep it under control -- but one in particular was abnormally low, almost undetectable."

"And that is?"

"In basic terms, it's a powerful hypnotic, the primary toxin used to keep the human mind asleep and docile. Without this important chemical, your host's mind is far more alert than it should ever be. That makes it less receptive to all of your efforts to soothe it, allows stress and fear hormones to build up in its delicate brain, and causes it to resist being put to sleep."

"And that's what's missing?" said 5X2, feeling waves of relief at having an answer.

"It would seem so. The absence of this hypnotic would make it next to impossible to keep a healthy human under trance. It's no wonder your efforts to sedate and entrance your host were fruitless. I'm honestly impressed you were able to walk into my office."

"Is there a cure?"

"There are a few different conditions that can cause this. To start with, I'm going to give you a prescription for a course of medication that should help promote the natural release of this chemical from your toxin glands. It has a few minor potential side effects, which the informational packet will describe."

"No side effects can possibly be worse than what I'm going through now. How long will that take to have an effect?"

"It should be at full strength in eight to ten cycles. We can see how you're responding, then, and I can advise you on a further course of treatment."

5X2 steadied themself. Eight to ten cycles. They could endure eight to ten more cycles.

"But in the meantime, we can simply inject your host with a big, healthy dose of the chemical cocktail it's been missing."

5X2's elation was almost drowned out by its host's panic and despair. "You can do that? You can do that right now?"

"Certainly," said the doctor, pulling a jar of translucent blue liquid from a shelf. "Let me prepare the injection. It's all natural and safe for both of you. I'm sure you're both eager to get some reprieve from fighting each other."

"And I'll be able to put my host to sleep? To keep it under trance?"

"With this extra strength, time release formula, it should be well out of it for the next few cycles, exceedingly simple to control. You can both finally get the rest you need."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, you don't know how much of a relief that is."

No! No, no, no! the human was screaming through their connection. Don't let them inject me with that! Let me go! I want to go home! I need to wake up -- I need to --

"I need to wake up!"

5X2 felt their consciousness suddenly cut off from their host's body as the human woke. It pulled at the restraints, trying to get its hand free.

"Please let me go! Don't do this!" the human yelled, as the doctor looked on with curiosity.

"Oh, you're awake? Now, now, we're only trying to help you," said the doctor. "Aren't you tired of fighting? Aren't you scared and hurting?"

"I'm scared and hurting because of what you're doing to me! This isn't right! Humans aren't meant to live like this -- you've taken my entire life from me!" Tears streamed down its face. "You're a doctor -- if you have any compassion at all, please listen to me! We don't want to be hypnotized and turned into puppets. We don't want to spend our whole lives sleeping and hallucinating and floating along in a mindless trance. We want to be free!"

The doctor patted its head. "I know this must all seem so scary to you, but it's only because of a chemical imbalance. That's why your passenger brought you here to the doctor, to help you. Your passenger loves you very much and only wants the best for you. Do you understand?"

"No, I don't want this. This is wrong -- please listen!"

"You're going to feel so much better in just a few minutes. I promise. Just trust me," said the doctor, their host easily pinning down 5X2's host's restrained arm and administering the injection.

"No, please!" 5X2's host struggled uselessly against the tight restraints, its panic reaching a fever pitch, as 5X2 sat in their own mind and watched. "Please! Please listen! Let me go! Let me... go..."

The human host's body relaxed, sagging against the restraints as its control over itself suddenly diminished. 5X2 could feel a lovely sense of peace wash over their host, a sensation they hadn't felt in a quarter star turn.

5X2, eager to take back its host, sent deep, hypnotic compulsions to fog its host's mind, to sink it into a pleasant daze, to pull it back under their control, and they were delighted when the host responded swiftly and easily. All of that fight, that fear, that anger began to evaporate like mist as 5X2 gently soothed its host into a trance.

You want to be a good host, 5X2 coaxed. You want to stop resisting. You want to weaken your feeble mental defenses and let me in.

I want to... Their host's thoughts were faltering and slow, easy to manipulate, just as they should be. I want to be a good host... want to let you in... want to drop my defenses... stop resisting...

Yes, that's right. Lower those defenses. You're safe, completely safe. You can relax now.

There was only a slight hesitation before the response. Safe... relax...

5X2 felt the human's resistance melt away, leaving its mind like soft clay in their grasp.

Finally.

5X2 rewarded their host's compliance with a pleasant vision of the ship's recreation district, filled with laughter and games and live music, one that their host used to be fond of before it became impossibly defiant. Their host latched onto the familiar, mollifying hallucination right away, like a young one with its comfort-toy.

Fun... pretty...

Yes, it is fun and pretty, said 5X2. You deserve it, because you're being very good right now. Aren't you glad I took you to the doctor?

Feels... hazy...

And isn't that good?

Mmhmm... good... so good... thank you...

"How is it feeling now?" asked the doctor. "Any better?"

"Oh, yes, that was absolutely brilliant," said 5X2. "It's completely docile and enjoying its favorite hallucination right now. I can't thank you enough."

"Excellent. I'm just glad that worked. I'll make an appointment for you ten cycles from now, and give you the prescriptions for the medication I recommend, along with a course of injectables to keep your host nice and compliant. It shouldn't give you any more trouble."

"That sounds perfect."

"I recommend putting your host to sleep for the next cycle. It must be so fatigued after all of that pointless struggle, and a prolonged period of rest will help it to reacclimate to your control."

"I don't think I need to worry about the last part," said 5X2 gleefully. "It seems so relieved to be back under. But I agree that it needs sleep. Maybe I can get some sleep too."

5X2's host was already flooded with the injected sedative, so they sent a simple but strong compulsion to lull it asleep. Its exhausted mind responded right away, filling it with a deep, irresistible drowsiness, its remaining thoughts dulling and fading as it drifted away peacefully. The cheerful hallucination of the recreational zone would give it pleasant dreams. 5X2 couldn't remember the last time their host had been so quiet, not a hint of stress or nightmares.

It was so charming to feel their delightful host curling up comfortably in their own mind and going to sleep. It reminded 5X2 of how much they loved their host, before everything had gone wrong.

"It worked," said 5X2 in awe.

"Asleep already? I thought so. It was so worn out."

"Thank you again, doctor, for all of your help. My host wanted to thank you, too, before it fell asleep. I can tell that it already feels so much happier."

"It's my pleasure." The doctor released 5X2's host from the chair.

5X2 stood up, shedding the medical gown and putting the host's clothes back on its body. Control was simple and seamless now, the host's body moving exactly in accordance with 5X2's wishes. They could hardly believe what a difference a little chemical persuasion made. With their newfound freedom, a part of them wanted to go out and indulge in all of the fine pleasures they had missed out on for so long -- but really, they knew it would be far more prudent to go home and sleep.

They'd do that after they picked up those prescriptions, of course. They weren't going to let a simple chemical imbalance ruin their life any more.

Masterlist

It's always the weirdest things you need to get out of your system, right? I don't know where this came from, but I'm tempted to write more about this alien parasite society. Like how they acquire humans, and how other pairs are doing...

What would you do if you had a passenger of your own?

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only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are · 3 months

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I wrote this one in a Pinterest comment for a forced sedation whump prompt.

"No, let me out of here", Whumpee staggered to the elevator. They attempted to hit the down button, but definitely missed and hit the wall.

They felt something sharp poke into their arm, they turned to see Caretaker stepping away, they eyed the needle.

"Bastard", Whumpee groaned as they slunk to the floor.

Caretaker sat down next to them, "you left me no other options, I'll take care of you though, don't worry."

Whumpees eyes starred to get heavy, "you better", they mumbled, then drifted off.

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only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are · 3 months

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Silent screams

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only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are · 3 months

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People of color in the whump community, how do you feel about POC characters?

(I know some people take issue with the term "person of color", I'm using it for convenience here, but this poll applies to anyone who considers themself nonwhite. Feel free to add specifics about your identity in the tags.)

(If you're white, scroll down for the results button and please reblog for sample size.)

I'm curious about how people view nonwhite characters in whump. On one hand, diversity is a good thing. On the other hand, violence against a character of color could trigger people, and a character of color as the whumper could play into racial stereotypes. This also depends on the specific race of the characters-- obviously, POC are not a monolith-- but there aren't enough poll options for that.

I'd really appreciate hearing people's thoughts, especially people of color in the whump community! Please reblog this to spread it around!

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only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are · 4 months

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Swipe Right Masterlist

Set in the BBU, Swipe Right tells the story of Charlie, a young man who is scouted out via a dating app to be an acceptable candidate for a pet (also known as box boy).

Part 1

Part 2

Taglist: @deerheaded44 @sparrowsage

#bbu adjacent #bbu whump #bbu drip #noncon drugging #whump fics #whump community #medical whump #swipe right series

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only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are · 4 months

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Swipe Right - Part 2

Part 1

CWs: pet whump, medical whump, mentions of kidnapping, drugging, needles, blood draw, stress positions

Charlie opened his eyes slowly, blinking as his eyes adjusted to a bright light. His head was pounding.

He slowly opened his eyes, finding himself in an unfamiliar cold white room. He was laying on a medical exam bed.

What had happened? He remembered being on a date.. a woman. Her name was something unusual..

Lacey.

He shot upright. At least, he tried to, before he was jerked back.The movement shot waves of dizziness through him, and he groaned.

"Hello, Charlie." A familiar voice cooed.

He shuddered as he opened his eyes to find Lacey standing over him. She was now wearing a pair of white scrubs, with her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail.

"What.. where am I?" he stammered, realising his arms were bound at his sides to the operating table he lay on, as were his legs.

"Welcome to HPP - Human Pet Providers. Not the most creative name, but we do as advertised." Lacey gestured around the room. "You have been selected as a good candidate for a companion pet."

Charlie had heard of pets, of course, in this sense, but he thought they were a rare priviledge for the uber-rich, and he thought people were only sold for this sort of thing in far-away cities. He thought he had been safe, but he was instead now trapped in a terrifying, nightmarish-reality. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no sound came out.

Lacey reached out a hand and placed it on Charlie's jaw, shutting his mouth. She placed a finger over his lips, and leaned in close. "Sh, darling. You don't have to speak anymore. You don't have to think anymore. I will be taking care of everything now on." She murmured.

She drew back, and waved over to someone out of sight. Four figures in white strode over, their expressions cold and uncaring.

"You may begin the examination."

"My name is Doctor Vaughn." A man with almond-brown skin and dark eyes announced, as he pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves and adjusted his white coat.

The doctor cut apart Charlie's clothes, and pulled the shredded garments off him.

"Don't!" Charlie finally found his voice, protesting the removal of the only things he had on his back in this strange place.

"Oh! He talks." Doctor Vaughn laughed. "It's too bad I don't care."

The man's colleagues collected the remnants of Charlie's clothes, whilst Doctor Vaughn began organising instruments on a steel tray. When they were done, one of the assistants picked up a camera and began taking photos, the harsh light from the flash hurting Charlie's eyes. They positioned him, like a doll, turning him this way and that, tilting his chin and closing in on each and every detail of his skin. Lacey merely stood there, observing impassively. Occasionally, she would make a remark, telling him to relax, to 'not worry' because he didn't need worry in his life anymore. It was uneccessary.

They pulled down a device down from the cieling by its handles, then pressed a button, and the device began sliding back and forth across tracks on the cieling, then side to side.

After a few minutes, the device stopped in place, and beeped softly.

Then, Doctor Vaughn began to examine Charlie more closely. He palpated the muscles in his legs, and took his blood pressure with an inflatable cuff. Then, the Doctor began inspecting everry inch of his body, probing and prodding. He took measurements and notes which were spoken aloud and then written down by another of the people jn scrubs onto a tablet. Doctor Vaugh nodded at one of the measurements, then picked up a syringe. Charlie flinched against the restraints, not that that did anything.

"You will learn, soon enough, that there is no point resisting anymore." Lacey tutted, grasping Charlie's arm and forcing it to relax somewhat in the restraints.

Doctor Vaugh wiped the skin of Charlie's arm with an alcohol swab. He then attached a collection tube to the syringe and lined the needle up with a vein in Charlie's arm. In one swift motion, he inserted the needle into the vein and began to draw Charlie's blood into the tube. Charlie squirmed against the needle, ignoring the growing pinch in his arm. When the tube was full with his blood, Doctor Vaugh exchanged the full tube with an empty one. And when that was full, Charlie watched gratefully as the needle was finally removed from his arm. Doctor Vaugh wiped the blood from the wound and placed a bandage over it.

"He's ready for processing." Doctor Vaugh said, stripping off his gloves and disposing of them and the syringe.

"Excellent." Lacey clapped her hands together and moved to the door, gesturing in several guards wheeeling a hospital gurney. "Transfer him onto the gurney and take him to Room 10."

The guards were far from gentle as they undid Charlie's restraints and lifted him onto the gurney, which they proceeded to tie him down to once more.

"This isn't neccessary, let me go!" Charlie pleaded. "I promise I won't try to escape, I-"

One of the guards slapped him across the face, earning a shocked gasp.

"Hey!" Lacey yelled. "DO NOT damage the merchandise."

She grabbed the guard by his black vest, and easily pinned him against the wall, despite how much smaller she was. "You do that again, I promise you you'll be the next one in my training room. Do you understand me?" She growled, her green eyes glinting with fury.

"I- I understand."

"I understand, ma'am."

"Y- yes, yes, I understand ma'am please let me go-"

With a snarl she dropped the guard and stormed off down the hall, the guards rushing to follow her, two of them pushing Charlie's gurney along beside them.

Charlie felt his heart pound from witnessing what had just happened. It was clear the woman who went by Lacey was just as intimidating as she was beautiful. Charlie shuddered, wondering what she would do to him next. As they rolled him down the endless white hallways, he tried to take a mental note of the path they were taking, but he quickly lost track. All the brightly light paths were the same, with each hall shooting off into more. It was maze-like, and he felt his heart drop as he realised any hope of escape would be slim.

The gurney came to a stop as they arrived at a door marked Room 10. Lacey keyed a code into the door, and the door opened with ease. The guards wheeled his gurney into the room. The room was a wide room, with a padded chair in the centre of the room, which resembled an old dentist's chair Steel trolleys were lined up next to the chair, and white counters lined the walls, with a steel sink and drawers and cabinets.

Lacey helped the guards undo Charlie's restraints, then they grasped his arms and legs and lifted him onto the chair. Immediately, they strapped him down around his middle, wrists, ankles, chest and forehead. As they strapped him down by the wrists, they turned his forearms up to the cieling.

"Please." Charlie tried. "You don't have to do this."

"Oh, I do. And I want to." Lacey grinned.

She picked up a box of nitrile gloves off the counter, and slipped a pair on.

"W've completed the physical exam, now it's time for the next part of your induction." Lacey pottered around the room, picking up and setting out tools as the guards took posts around the corners of the room.

"You will be given your number, and from here on you will only be referred to as your number until you are purchased and named by your buyer." Lacey combed her gloved fingers through Charlie's hair, softly, then she yanked hard, and pulled his chin towards her. "You know, we used to shave the heads of you pets. Or box boys, other companies call them." She mused. "Until I reminded the Director that there's so much more to do with you when you have beautiful long hair."

Fear and humiliation roiled in Charlie's stomach as Lacey manipulated the arms of the chair so that his arms were spread out, and then pushed a button on the chair which caused it to recline. She slipped on a pair of nitrile gloves and pulled a stool up beside Charlie.

"It's time to mark you as HPP property." She picked up a tattoo gun. The buzzing started before Charlie even registered what was happening.

Charlie's world exploded into pain. Sharp, scratching pain, as though a cat with a particular distaste towards him had been unleashed upon his arm and then decided to tread all over his fresh wounds. His head spun. By the time he cleared his head enough to look down at his arm and the source of the pain, on his pale arm was a barcode with small numbers inscribed below. '05794' it read.

"What the hell.." Charlie gasped weakly.

"You will be referred to by this number until you are purchased and brought to your new owner. I, as your Handler, will be able to access any of your information, including your medical files, through that barcode with a tablet." Lacey explained. "Useful little idea of mine, isn't it?"

Charlie winced as she wrapped up his fresh tattoo.

"Now, the tattoo is only a backup for this." Lacey picked up a metal band, and undid the restraint around his arm so that she could open the cuff and place it around his wrist. As the cuff clicked into place above the tattoo, a fresh pain exploded into his skin as two small needles shot out from the cuff and buried themselves into his skin.

"Ah!" Charlie gasped, trying to yank his arm away, but Lacey was far to quick for him and tied his arm back down to the chair. The cuff had a small screen across it, like a smartwatch.

"The cuff will monitor your vitals as well as being the main access point for your medical data and other information."

"Great. So you can make sure you don't kill me when you torture me." Charlie huffed. "Tell me Lacey, do you kidnap and torture all your dates?"

"Oh, Charlie. You were fished - HPP quite often has their agents use dating apps to select good candidates for their program. You can learn a lot about someone based off their dating profile.." Lacey explained.

"You can't do this, I'm a human being! I'm not your toy!" Charlie protested.

"You will now be known by your number, 05794, until you are purchased and renamed by your owner." Lacey ignored his protests and grasped his chin, her blood-red fingernails just lightly digging into his skin. "You are not a person anymore. You gave over that right when you walked in this door and signed your life away, your home, your individualty, your name, your freedom... everything that made you human."

"But I didn't sign-"

Charlie was cut off by a sharp pain in the muscle of his neck, he gasped in pain and bucked against his restraints, spotting a syringe out of the corner of his eye, from which Lacey was injecting a clear serum into him.

His vision blurred, and his eyelids grew heavy. He could close them, just for a moment..

------

When he opened his eyes, he had been sure he'd just blinked, but he found himself now laying down a small mattress against the back wall of a small room.

Charlie clambered to his feet, finding his legs shaky, but he needed to examine his surroundings. He held out a hand to steady himself, and as he did so his hand brushed against something. It was a metal cuff, hammered into the wall. He shuddered, and subconsioucly his fingers found the cuff around his right wrist. A tattoed barcode, on his left wrist.

He remembered- what did he remember? He remembered the date, the cafe, being drugged, waking up in another room, being clinically examined and 'processed' and then.. nothing.

He was wearing a thin white v-neck shirt and white boxers as he paced around the small, white cell. His bed was nothing but a simple cot on the floor, with a thin, threadbare blanket. In one corner was a very basic bathroom. There was a metal toilet, resembling one of those horrible toilets seen in jails, and a sink. The shower only consisted of a showerhead protruding from the wall and a drain in the floor. A towel lay folded up on a small table by the shower, with three small bottles, which were labeled 'shampoo', 'conditioner' and 'body wash' respectively.

Across the room were various sets of 3 metal cuffs spread around the walls and the floor. The far wall of the room resembled a large mirror, with a door in the centre of it. The door had a small cutout in the bottom which was currently shut. Charlie assumed that the mirror was one of those two way mirrors. The whole room was painted white and illuminated with cool white lights. He shuddered, and took a step back towards the cot, fear and anxiety manifesting in his stomach as a swirl of nasea. The instant he moved, he was startled by the sound of a voice, coming from the corners of the small room.

"Attention, new pet. Welcome to Human Pet Providers. This room is where your primary room while you are in the facility. Twenty minutes before meal time, a bell will sound two times."

The automated-sounding female voice paused, and a bell chimed twice.

"At the sound of this bell, you will begin practising various positions with the use of the cuffs around the room. Your Trainer will arrive shortly to demonstrate the positions with you. After the twenty minutes, the bell will sound again, three thrice."

The bell chimed three times.

"Then, your food will be delivered. If you have not completed 20 minutes of positions, you will not recieve any food."

There was silence and Charlie waited for the voice to tell him anything else about his room, or the facility, or how they would know if he did his training. But there was only silence, before the loud chime sounded twice.

A moment later, the door to the rood swung open, allowing Lacey inside. "It's time for you first training."

She stepped into the room, striding towards Charlie. She guided him towards a set of chains on one wall.

"Squat with your back against the wall." Lacey ordered.

Not seeing much point in resisting, he did as she said. She cuffed his feet to the wall, then cuffed his arms together above his head. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was fine for the first minute.

"You can pick which positions you do before each meal. You can do four for five minutes each, or spend more or less time as you prefer.

Two minutes in, and his legs were burning as she spoke. His knees trembled, and he felt a sharp tug on his wrists and biceps as his arms were forced to take his weight and were almost yanked from their sockets.

"Grrnnngh- make it- stop-" Charlie ground out, his whole body shaking with pain.

She pressed a button on the metal cuff on his right wrist and his arms were released from their restraints. She pressed a button on each of his ankles, and then he was released at his legs also. His legs, now as wobbly as jello, gave out beneath him and he sank to the floor.

When he had caught his breath, she took him through several more positions - from ones that forced him to kneel, to more that kept his arms forced into uncomfortable positions. Each one made his limbs burn and his body be exposed to the trainer.

When finally the chime alerted them to meal time, she released the restraints for the last time and he sank to the floor, chest heaving and his cheeks burning. The slot in the door opened, and a tray was slid through, which Lacey picked up and brought over to Charlie. There was a sandwhich, a cup of water and a plastic bowl of broth. The cutlery was plastic too, and the bowl of broth was only luke-warm - likely to stop inmates using anything as a weapon. There was also a paper cup with half a dozen different coloured and sized pills.

"Good pet." Lacey cooed, running a hand through his hair. "Now, eat up. You need your strength."

As he sat, she picked up the bowl of broth and began to spoon-feed him. He tried to pull away, but she grabbed his head, locking it in place.

"Shhh, '794. The sooner you accept you no longer have any control, the easier this will all be."

She finished feeding him the broth, then fed him the sandwhich, closing his lips together when he refused to swallow, and finally he gave in. She helped him take a few sips of water, before she held out the pill cup. Charlie made a keening sound - it was embarrasing, and he blushed furiously, but he wasn't strong enough for this. The trainer forced his jaw open, uncaring, and poured the pills into his mouth along with some water, before forcing his lips shut, and massaging his throat. The motion triggered his gag-reflex, and he swallowed, the pills burning his throat. Charlie coughed and spluttered, as Lacey pulled herself off the floor, carrying the tray, as she headed to the door.

"Sleep well, pet. You'll need it. This is just the beginning of your training." Lacey drawled.

With that, she left the room, leaving Charlie behind on the floor of the cell, tears trickling down his cheeks as he curled his body up into a ball for comfort.

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