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whumpsoda · 22 hours

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for a captivity idea, maybe write about the day Nevan broke like how Malak did? maybe when Darius realizes that Nevan is much more keen to be motivated by praise rather than punishment—as Nevan can ground himself and battle through the pain or discomfort, but the moment concept of praise as a reward is reinforced he crumbles

WOHEO Masterlist

cw: brainwashing/conditioning, memory loss

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Heaving ragged, quivering breaths of distress and raw desperation, Nevan’s head beat and pounded hard on the walls of his mind, thus drowning him in thick pain. His lip trembled with timid haste as his teeth ran across the frayed tips of skin, hands shielding his susceptible ears.

“C’mon… be a good boy for master, won’t you?” Darius sneered, the faux sweetness of his voice eliciting horrified trembles down his captive’s spine.

Nevan wanted to be a good boy, really wanted to be a good boy, and such feelings no short of terrified him. He was slipping, so very wretchedly easily, and he was well aware of it.

One chill, slender hand snuck it’s way over his in the attempt to pry Nevan’s palm from his ear. “So tense, are you? Nothing to be afraid of, really. It’s only Master.”

Nevan’s brain could not help but scatter, just for a moment upon his master’s magical words. How could he possibly resist? His eyes were quick to glaze over, lids draping and vision twisting blurry. Nevan turned to his master, limbs drooping. Just as he had wanted.

“Good boy, so good.” Darius cooed, sounds Nevan knew so well we’re fakely kind and dripping with humiliation, but in the moment he simply leaned into the scratch of slick nails below his chin. His mind swirled in a flurry of pleasure, keening toward his master, as if the vampire was tenderly reeling him in with his song-like voice.

“You want to be good, right? Even better?” Oh, how he wanted to be good. “You must listen and forget, Nevan.”

Forget.

Forget?

“F- for… get?” Nevan whispered, meek and small on his knees. His master merely nodded.

“Yes, pet. Let Master work his magic as he drys your little brain of all the pesky memories that are no longer useful.” No. No. “Then, Master might just name you as the most pathetic pet of them all. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Nevan recoiled, coming back to himself an inch, baring his teeth in defense. He did not want to forget, especially at the mercy of Darius. Could not. Who would? Not Genevieve, not Amara, not his parents, not his friends-

“Hey.” Darius returned, puckered lips beating simmering breath right over his skin. “Calm down. Listen to your master.”

Nevan mewled the slightest of a moan in response, shoulders buckling as an immense shiver of bliss overtook him in an instant. His expression swiftly dropped slack, in contrast to the poorly upheld smile of Darius’ that gradually twisted into that of a grimace.

Listen, listen, listen.

“Hush your head for me now. You can do that, can’t you? Your thoughts are running dry, gumming up and fogging until all you can muster up is your master.” Nevan’s brain complied in full, dissipating until all he could manage to focus on was his master’s wondrously heaven full voice. He sighed in befuddled contentment. “Just relax, letting my calm wash over you and drown you in its hold.”

Maybe, even while pathetically whimpering with pleasure, Nevan could still…

Still resist…

Alas, he was already nodding along and smiling, fight fizzled out at the flick of his master’s tongue. Defiance seemed so unreachable, such a distant idea he could not reach through the cotton plugging up his brain.

His master grinned, the faintest taint of a smirk infecting the tenderness of his spell, dripping just the slightest of sour. Even so, Nevan was quick to melt in his seat with eagerness to obey his every word.

“Your feeble mind is being so easily thwarted, terrible memories stolen away and taken where they will not return. The horrible memories that hurt and only exist to bring you pain. Master is taking them away, isn’t that just nice?”

Nevan nodded along with an empty head, no idea of what he could be agreeing to, almost as if dancing to the hum of Darius’ voice. “Mmm… um, thank, thank… you…”

Fingers snuck their way over the human’s chin, clutching his flesh and strengthening his nod. “You don’t know anything, Nevan, not anymore, do you?” Darius sneered, smugly.

That wasn’t right. Was it? Nevan knew lots of things. “N- no, I… do…”

“You don’t know your friends, your family, no one.” Darius stated, so matter of fact Nevan could not help but digest his nonsense. Yet, he still knew it was nonsense.

“But… um, but…” His master’s speech failed to make any logical sense. Nevan had so many people who loved him, and he knew them very well. His mind was scattered into puzzled pieces, confusion coating every half baked thought that ever so slowly crossed his path.

“Because you don’t have any of that, Nevan. No friends, no family, no one but Master. You don’t need anyone else.” The last bit was whispered like butter licking Nevan’s ear, lips so close his master was nearly kissing his skin.

“O- oh. Oh… Master…” His chest tensed with stinging anxiousness. His brain in it’s entirety was settling into Darius’ magnificent grasp, growing horrifyingly, but at the same time blissfully, fuzzy.

No friends…

No… family…

No… um, no…

Nevan swallowed. He… didn’t have any of that. Did he? It was dreadfully hard to search for any memories of such things, which sparked a light of faint fear to stir and contort with bitterness in his belly.

Even so, Darius’ voice was like a ringing in his ear, reverberating and echoing like that of a holy god. “You can’t remember anyone but Master. Everyone else, all of the painful, irrelevant people dissipate from your head, leaving emptiness in their wake.”

Empty. Empty, empty, so very empty his mind was, connections growing thin and snapping off into the abyss of the vampire’s talk. There was someone there, right? There had to be. “Don’t… know… can, can’t… ‘member…”

Expression twisting with wickedness, his master firmed his clasp over Nevan’s chin. “Who can’t you remember, Nevan? Who don’t you know?”

So desperately he wracked his brain, as much as he could in such a pitiful state, blockades standing tall and firm. “Don’t, don’t, um… dunno…” Nevan’s brows furrowed, eyes pricking with timid tears. “Can’t… don’t… um…”

“Hush. Good boy. No one is left in that tiny head of yours, is there? Nobody left expect for Master.”

“Master…?” Nevan was so confused about everything said in that moment, but he still knew his master well. That was all he needed, was it not?

The vampire hummed in approval. “That is because, my pet, there has only ever been your master. Your pathetic, little life has only been filled with you and your master, from beginning to end, with not another being to interrupt. Isn’t that right?”

“Y- yes… Always… Master…” The fact circled its way around his head, plastering to the walls and fitting into its spot between his gears. It made perfect sense to Nevan, not a single other person coming to mind beside his master.

“Always and only, Nevan.”

“Only… Master…” He’d always been with his master, hadn’t he? Just the two of them… right? Except, somehow, that was wrong. His stomach churned and bubbled, red hot feelings subdued by his previous conditioning snaking free. “But, um, no… no, no, no-!”

“Let go, Nevan, to the grip and truth of my word. Let go of your mind, let go of your pain, and give it away to Master.” Darius pressed him to the wall by the head, smooshing him as far as possible into the concrete.

“N- no! No, no!” Master was wrong, master was very, very wrong and he could not for the life of him place why. Something had to be wrong, even under the weight of such heavenly sensations, because Nevan could simply feel it deep inside of his shivering bones.

“Yes.”

“No! No, no, no! No!”

Nevan no longer knew why he was holding on, why he was so terrified to obey his master. He was utterly unable to unstick his hands from his ears, or to uncurl his shaking frame. Something was missing, maybe many things, but he could not possibly say what. There was only an overwhelming sense of something he could not place, only recognizing the feeling that, even against his master, Nevan must disobey.

“Let. Go.” His master snarled, vibrant with authority and commandment. Rich with force and strength, impossible to fight with.

After holding so dearly on for the last bit of life, the last bit of fight, the last remaining tie to string together Nevan to himself broke.

A swift snap, it went.

He let go of a ragged wail, scratching from his throat and caving in to his master’s will. He released his own inhibitions, his complete accord, releasing the hurt of his own wants. His figure slumped to the wall, drowsy drool dripping from his parted lips, overcome with mind melted exhaustion.

After a time of silence and a pounding brain, slow, careful fingers dipped over Nevan’s dropped, gasping head, calling his remaining conscious back to his master. The touch was pleasantly soft, picking him up from near unconsciousness with pleasure.

Hooking another finger under his human’s chin, Darius met his unfocused gaze with satisfaction. “Pet, tell me, might you have any friends? Any family?” His voice was hushed and tender, gracing Nevan with muddled honey.

It took him a beat of quiet to process the inquiry. “Uh, um….” What an odd question. Did he? That sounded off. Nevan scoured his mushed up mind, unable in the end to make such a strange connection. Faintly, he shook his head. “N- no… no…” Why did the admittance claw at the gentle strings of his heart?

His master simply huffed a content chuckle in response, palm dancing down his thrall’s cheek and sending him spiraling. “Wonderful.”

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Taglist- @softvampirewhump @iys-cloud @battyfantasy @xx-adam-xx @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @mis-graves @3-2-whump

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carosbee · 2 months

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Whump Scenario

Whumpee was born inside of a lab, half human and half wires. They think just like a human, they feel pain just like a human but will never be a human.

Whumper finds them as an infant (for worse) and they are owned as property by them. Until Whumper's base is raided and Whumpee is taken to a human rights organisation specialising in Whumpees.

Whumper sees their day in court, however it's delayed by the case deciding whether Whumpee counts as human or not. It's declared they don't, and Whumper is let free and given back Whumpee.

Except Whumper sues the human rights organisation for theft and uses the fact that Whumpee isn't legally human to film Whumpee's usual torture and post it online (after all, no humans harmed).

Whumpee doesn't mind; they've never known anything different.

#whump writing #nonhuman whumpee #whump stuff #whump #whump scenario #pet whump #brainwashing whump #conditioned whumpee #whump ideas #whumpee #whumper

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hurtmyfavsthanks · 8 months

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Whumptember day 10

“What are you doing to them?” Brainwashed | Hanging from their wrists | Phone call

It felt like their brain was vibrating. All they could hear or feel was an endless buzzing, like all their atoms were trying to pull apart from one another. It was overwhelming, muffling any sensations from the outside world. They couldn't hear, they couldn't think. Their brain was vibrating.

It’d hurt, before. Or they thought it had. They couldn’t remember much before the buzzing had started, but they remembered struggling against the feeling. Had they fought because it hurt? Because it was bad? They didn't remember.

They didn’t struggle now. They didn’t know how, when the entire world was vibrating.

It was like bees had taken residence in their skull; not to harm it, but to reshape it. Everything useless was tossed away, the gaping holes being filled with honey. They’d fought to stop it, but then the memory of why they were fighting had been drowned in sticky sweetness.

It was dizzying and disorienting, it put their teeth on edge, but they didn’t know if it hurt. They couldn’t know anything, not when their brain was vibrating.

They heard voices somewhere outside of their hive they’d become, distant and nearly drowned out.

“What…what is this? What are you doing to them?”

“Hero, you’re aware of our reformation project, yes? Villain is our first patient.”

Just barely, they could hear the voices approaching.

“I–So you’re what, brainwashing them? Is this ethical? Does it hurt?”

Yes, the thought bubbled through the buzzing, it does, please it–

”No, not at all. It’s entirely painless.”

–doesn’t hurt? No, it doesn’t, but didn’t it before? They weren’t sure anymore. The question was being thrown away alongside the other trash, swallowed up and drowned out. They quickly lost hold of it.

Something touched a distant part of their body, and it took a long moment for them to realize they were more than their buzzing skull. Something had been holding their arms aloft, and with a click, it released. They nearly fell forward without the support, but something wrapped around their face held them up, pulling at their scalp.

“Villain, can you hear me? It’s Hero,” The voice was back, closer, but still muffled by the chaos in their mind. It felt like the voice reminded them of something, but they didn’t know. The part of their brain that had known had been scooped out and replaced, leaving barely the shape of a memory.

Something clicked, the noise echoing in the mind, and the buzzing sharpened. They shivered at the sensation of their brain finally sitting still, the see of static shifting into an organized effort.

“Stand up,” The voice wasn’t muffled by the noise, it was the noise. The vibration was shaped by the words, speaking with power that they felt in their bones.

It was a relief, and they chased after that peace. They stood on legs they hardly remembered they had.

Something was moving on their head, whatever had been wrapped around their skull being removed. The world exploded into color, the change taking them a moment to adjust to. When they opened their eyes, two figures stood before them.

The vibrating was already coming back, their moment of peace fading. But then one of the figures clicked a button they held in their hands, and everything sharpened.

“Tell me, who are you and what do you want?”

They hadn’t known the answer seconds ago. They still didn’t know, and yet the truth formed in their mind. After the disorientating chaos, the confidence they felt at their answer was a comfort.

And outside of the angry hive Villain’s mind had become, Hero watched, a horrified onlooker, as their former foe’s face split with a vacant, dull-eyed smile.

“My name is Sidekick, and I want to help you in any way possible.”

#Honestly mind control is like wildly underused in whump #i know it's used a lot but still. underused #def a top 3 for me i should write it more #whump #whumptember day 10 #whumptember 2023 #day 10: “what are you doing to them?”/brainwashed/hanging from their wrists #villain whumpee #mind control whump #brainwashing whump #(still don't know the difference between those two)#forced reformation #hero #villain #my stuff #mind controlled villain #mind control

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whump-me · 6 months

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Whumptober Day 19: Psychological

This is a standalone story in my original Mind Games universe, a modern-day sci-fi/fantasy thriller setting about ordinary humans with superhuman abilities and the people who want to use or destroy them. Full description in my Whumptober masterpost, which is linked in my pinned post.

This story contains: brainwashing, emotional whump, minor whumpee

Words: 2400

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This is what you were made for, the instructors always told them. They told them that when they cried. When they missed their old life, their family and friends. When they remembered what they had lost when the men came in their unmarked vans and stole them away with their syringes full of liquid that put them to sleep. When they remembered everything they would never have again.

The lives they had left behind were fine for ordinary people, the instructors told them. But they weren’t ordinary. They had gifts most people could only dream of, and it was their responsibility to use those gifts for the greater good. They had purpose, and purpose required sacrifice. They had to sacrifice their families, their friends, their dreams for the future, in order to be who they were born to be.

The instructors said it as a comfort, wrapping crying bodies in blankets and pressing mugs of warm chamomile tea into their hands. They said it as an admonition, as they locked them in the punishment room for a day or two or three. They said it when anyone cried, when anyone questioned, when anyone’s face showed a flicker of doubt.

It was tempting to believe. They had all lost everything when PERI had come for them. Some of them hadn’t even known they had powers. Almost none of them had known about the Enhanced gene that gave some people supernatural abilities, or about PERI, the government-funded program that hunted for children with the gene and trained them as operatives. None of them had seen this coming.

Almost none of them.

They had lost their previous lives all at once, with no warning. Now they spent their nights in bare cell-like rooms, and their days in an exhausting training regimen. Physical training. Mental training. Ability training, which varied depending on whether they were telepaths or pyrokinetics or could heal with a touch—there were almost as many unique powers in the cohort as there were people.

There was no time for fun. Friendship wasn’t allowed—any members of their cohort who spoke too to each other, or in whispers like they had something to hide, were quickly separated by the instructors.

It was tempting to think there was a reason for it. At least once they all came to realize, one by one, that they were never going home again.

Yasmina watched it change the others. She watched them all start to reluctantly settle into their new life. The criers stopped crying as much. The yellers stopped yelling as much. The ones who had sworn they wouldn’t cooperate started getting invested in the competitions the instructors set for them.

From the outside, she was sure she looked the same. She had faked being a yeller, because it was easier than faking tears. The downside to that was that it meant fewer warm mugs of tea pressed into her hands, and more days in the punishment room.

But she had been prepared, and she had endured. She had let her defiance fade, little by little, until she was the obedient drone the instructors wanted.

But she didn’t believe any of it. Not like the others. She didn’t need to believe it. Unlike them, she was getting out.

She had let herself be taken on purpose. Tasha, her legal guardian for two more years, had taken her for a routine blood test at a clinic that her parents’ Enhanced resistance team knew PERI monitored for abnormal genetic results. The plan had been her idea; it had taken months to persuade the others. Only once she had threatened to make it happen on her own, without their help, had they agreed to let her do it.

Her parents would have said she was too young. But her age was the only reason she could do this at all—even at sixteen, she was almost too old for PERI training. Some of the kids in her cohort were seven or eight. And her Enhanced ability was perfect memory—she could learn everything about the facility and the training process, and deliver it back to the team in every perfect detail.

And her parents, killed on a mission last year, were no longer around to object.

She lay on the top bunk in her cohort’s dorm, staring up at the ceiling. Now that almost everyone had given up on their defiance, most of them had earned enough trust to sleep in the group dorm instead of the individual cells. There wasn’t as much difference between the two as she had expected. The dorm was quiet—there was no whispering between beds, no sound at all aside from light snores and the occasional suppressed tears.

The constant competitions, with harsh consequences for failure, were successfully driving wedges between them all. When that didn’t do the trick, having to practice their abilities on each other did it. Also, the dorm was bugged, and everyone knew it. If anyone talked for too long, an instructor would come and take the offenders away to spend the night in the punishment room.

Yasmina lay awake, listening to one person’s sleep-talk and another’s quiet sobs. She listened until the familiar mental tickle brushed the back of her mind. She relaxed into the hard mattress, a smile coming to her face. She stayed awake as long as she could every night, waiting for contact, but it had been weeks since the last time Tasha had reached out to her.

She hadn’t been afraid—she knew her parents’ team wouldn’t abandon her here. But, well, she had wondered. There was always the risk that something had happened to Tasha. As a fairly weak telepath, Tasha had to get close to the facility to make contact, which was dangerous.

Can you talk? Tasha asked.

Yasmina sent a burst of wordless affirmation in response. She wasn’t a telepath herself, but all she had to do for Tasha to hear her was think strongly enough and clearly enough.

How are you holding up? Tasha’s voice was thick with concern, like an instructor pressing a mug of tea into a crying trainee’s hand.

In answer, she downloaded image after image into Tasha’s mind. The two of them had practiced the technique together in the weeks before Yasmina had gotten herself captured. She had practiced focusing on her memories until Tasha could see them as clearly as she could. Tasha had practiced memorizing the details. They had found, through trial and error, that still images worked the best. That meant it took a long time to transmit the information, but it was worth it.

When she was done, Tasha sent her a wave of wordless thanks. Yasmina responded with a burst of acknowledgment. She curled on her side, ready to go to sleep.

Wait, said Tasha.

Yasmina opened her eyes again. Is something wrong?

The opposite, said Tasha. It’s been a year. It’s finally time to get you home.

Yasmina sent a burst of confusion along their telepathic connection. A year? It couldn’t have been that long. She tried to count up the days, and then the weeks. But they all blended together. Every day of training was much the same as last. And they didn’t have calendars in here.

Not yet, said Yasmina. I’m not done here.

We agreed on a year, said Tasha, sharp concern leaking through the connection. We’re not leaving you in that place a day longer than necessary.

There are still parts of the facility I haven’t seen yet, Yasmina protested. And I’m doing fine. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Sometimes the training was even fun. She hadn’t known her body was capable of this kind of strength, or that her memory could get even better than it had been when she had started.

And while she was here, she had a purpose.

Yes, it was a sacrifice. But she could make that sacrifice. It was her responsibility to make that sacrifice, to use her ability for something worthwhile.

We’re getting you out, said Tasha, her mental voice too firm to allow any disagreement. Be at the south perimeter gate at the start of your evening free-training period.

Her voice cut off before Yasmina could offer any more protests.

Yasmina stared up at the ceiling again, no longer the least bit sleepy. All of a sudden, she wanted to yell—the way she had when she had first come here, when she’d had to fake defiance to make her ruse believable. She wanted to let out a good scream, loud enough to tear her throat, loud enough to get her thrown in the punishment room.

Why, though? It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to go home. She had clung to that secret like a worn-out teddy bear for her entire time here. The others wouldn’t get to go home. The others had to find a way to cope with that. The others had to swallow the instructors’ propaganda because it was the only way to make their fate tolerable. But not her. Her time here was temporary.

But home felt like a flickering image on a distant TV screen. Home was her room at Tasha’s house, which used to be a walk-in pantry—Tasha hadn’t really had room for her when she has taken her in. Home was faking a smile for Tasha and trying to pretend her grief was fading. Home was trudging through her classes and trying to pretend any of it meant anything with her parents gone.

Tasha’s house might have been home, but it wasn’t where her life was, not anymore. Her life was her mission, the adrenaline rush of collecting information for the enemy under PERI’s noses. Her life was pushing herself to excel at her training while holding her secret close to her chest. Her life was using her ability for a purpose, the way her parents had, instead of sitting in Tasha’s old pantry with nothing to do but try not to cry too loudly.

What had she even done with herself all day when she hadn’t had a mission?

The next evening, she considered not going to the gate. But of course she went, because that was her mission, and those were her orders. Her training hadn’t just shown her how strong she could be; it had taught her the importance of following orders, of sticking to the mission.

When she reached the gate, it was open. Johan and Marissa were waiting for her, their bodies tense, their eyes darting warily back and forth. Marissa hustled her out, while Johan checked her over with concerned eyes.

This training facility was surrounded by twenty miles of forest. Johan and Marissa hustled her down a narrow path through the trees, which became an unpaved road. Marissa’s Jeep was waiting there, the engine idling.

Yasmina climbed into the backseat. Tasha was waiting for her there. When she saw Yasmina, a grin of pure relief spread across her face.

“You’re out!” Tasha boomed. “You made it!”

Yasmina cringed against the car door. Tasha’s voice probably wasn’t that loud, but Yasmina was used to furtive whispers.

“It’s so good to see you,” Tasha continued. “God, you’re so tall. I didn’t think you had another growth spurt left in you, but I guess you proved me wrong. And those muscles.” Tasha flexed one of her own bony arms. “You could bench-press two of me.”

Had Yasmina ever lived in a world with this much idle conversation in it? She stared out the window at the passing trees.

I’m really proud of you, you know, Tasha said, her voice blessedly softening. “We all are.”

“It was the mission,” Yasmina said with a small shrug. She shot a look over her shoulder. The facility had already disappeared into the distance. A sharp pang tugged at her heart.

She would never miss the facility itself. She couldn’t think of a thing she liked about that horrible place, except maybe the training itself. She had never had the chance to make friends—the instructors had made sure of that. But she already missed the mission.

“So,” said Tasha. “Now that you’re free, what’s the first thing you want to do?”

Yasmina turned away from the window to stare at Tasha blankly. “What do you mean?”

“There’s got to be something you’ve been missing,” Tasha said. “You want to go shopping? With how much you’ve grown, I’m sure none of your old clothes will fit you. Or we could splurge on a fancy dinner at that Italian place you like so much.”

Yasmina remembered shopping. But the memory was distant and hazy. She couldn’t remember what she had liked about it, or whether she had liked it at all. Mostly, what she remembered was all the colors, and all the choices. The thought made her head hurt. In the training facility, she had worn the same plain gray trainee’s uniform every day. She had hated it at first, but soon enough, she had stopped thinking about it. Now it was just one more decision she didn’t have to make. One less thing to distract her from the mission.

“We could dig out your old roller skates and go to the rink,” Tasha suggested. “I remember how much you used to like doing that with your parents…” Her voice trailed off as she frowned at Yasmina in concern. “Hey. Are you okay?”

Yasmina nodded. “I’m okay.”

Of course she was. She had completed the mission. She had done what she was made for. She had made all the sacrifices she’d had to make.

And now it was over. The absence of her mission left a hollow place inside her. It was her responsibility to use her gift for the greater good. It was her purpose. If she didn’t have a mission, then what was the point of her life?

Tasha said something else. Yasmina turned back toward the window and stopped listening.

It would be okay. She would be okay. She had followed her orders to the best of her ability, and she had completed her mission.

And now that she had proved she could handle a mission, soon they would give her another.

That thought finally let her relax. She leaned against the door and let the rhythmic hum of the engine lull her to sleep.

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Tagged: @cakeinthevoid @gala1981

Ask to be added or removed from my Whumptober 2023 taglist.

#whumptober2023 #no.19 #psychological #oc #fic #minor whump #emotional whump #brainwashing whump #my writing #my writing: Mind Games #my writing: whumptober 2023

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greenhouseofwhump · 10 months

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Did anyone else stumble across the moonblinking scenes in Guardians of Ga’Hoole as a kid and have that alone give you an interest in brainwashing whump or was that just me

#brainwashing whump #brainwashing #conditioning whump #whump community #i was like. a teeny 3rd grader wndnfj and i STILL think about moonblinking regularly…

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whumpwillow · 2 years

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Whump troupe that isn't used enough but I love it.

When the whumpee's friend (we'll call them w2) is kidnapped and brainwash by whumper to hurt whumpee. So w2 follows through in torturing whumpee, till one day after yelling at whumpee about how much they "hate" them. W2 breaks down and begins crying, hating themselves for doing this, but feeling they have too. Whumpee simply walks over and hugs them

oh noooo

#brainwashing whump #mind control whump #reluctant whumper

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whumpster-dumpster · 4 months

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Love it when a whumpee who's known to be especially emotive just goes blank. Dead quiet, glassy eyes, no thoughts head empty, especially if the change is super abrupt and unnerving

#whump #whump prompt #writing prompt #i don't know how to tag this #umm #mind control #conditioning #brainwashing #possession #just tagging whatever applicable tropes i think of first

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whumpypepsigal · 4 months

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“Neither of us has ever been given the chance to choose anything.”

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oliversrarebooks · 3 months

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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 its 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?

#whump #whump writing #alien #alien abduction #alien parasite #alien whump #defiant whumpee #brainwashing #hypnosis #drugging #medical whump #clinical whump #pet whump #kind of #dehumanization

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whump-place · 24 days

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Living weapon whumpee that doesn't even fully realize they had been conditioned.

Whumper taught them that any person can be a threat, any person could harm them and it was their duty to protect them, so what if Whumpee is bigger, or looks stronger? That doesn't mean a thing.

Whumper showed them that even people that look defenseless can harm them, and that they have to protect the person in charge of them now.

Even when they are rescued, and Caretaker tries to make sure everything is fine, Whumpee knows best.

That annoying roommate of Caretaker could hurt them anytime. They can't be trusted and Whumpee knows it.

It was an accident what happened next, of course. Roommate had just fallen down the stairs. It was just an accident.

Caretaker cried and all of that, but at least now they were safe. They were so safe with Whumpee protecting them.

#whump prompt #whump writing #whumpee #caretaker #whump #conditioned whumpee #mind conditioning #living weapon whumpee #brainwashing

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whumpsoda · 2 months

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I. I love vampire hunters turned thralls. Brainwashed into adoring little pets to creatures of which they once chased down with the goal of killing… UGH just someone who used to hate the thing they now address as master… bonus points if they get their memories erased and have no memory of their hunter past :3

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kabie-whump · 2 months

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Hi! I started following you recently and I LOVE your writing!!! May I make a request? I'd love to see your take on a yandere vampire whumper keeping a darling human whumpee in captivity. Maybe they see Whumpee as both a bloodbag and a companion/pet?

Only if you want to!!

Thanks so much! I'm sorry this took so long but I finally found time to come back to this! All hail spring break!

Content: hypnosis, ex-vampire hunter whumpee, pet/bloodbag whumpee, intimate whumper, vampire whumper, memory loss, gaslighting

⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧

"Is there someone outside?"

Surprised, Whumper glances down at Whumpee, who blinks groggily as they wake. They usually stay out for longer after Whumper feeds on them. Maybe the noise woke them.

Whumper runs their fingers through Whumpee's hair. "Yes, darling. Someone's trying to take you away from me again. But don't worry - my hounds are taking care of it."

There's a distant, muffled scream. Whumpee flinches, their eyes going wide as they sit up. They'd left a dark patch of drool in the fabric of Whumper's pants, but Whumper doesn't mind at all.

"Wait... I know that voice. Who's out there?"

Whumper acts quickly, grabbing Whumpee's face and turning them to force eye contact. They can't let their most treasured companion remember that those humans used to be their friends; that Whumpee used to be a vampire hunter along with them.

"No one important," Whumper insists, pouring a sprinkle of magic into their words. "They're bad people. They want to take you away and hurt you."

It's always so cute to watch the effects of the hypnosis weigh Whumpee down, relaxing their anxious mind. Their pupils dilate until the color of Whumpee's eyes shows in only barely visible rings. Their breathing slows down. Their shoulders slump.

"'Kay," Whumpee whispers. "Sorry. I... got confused."

Whumper presses a kiss to their forehead. "It's alright, pet. I'll take care of everything. No need to worry. No need to even think."

Whumpee nods sleepily, allowing Whumper to pick up their wrist and examine the fresh bite mark. It's already scabbing over nicely. Whumper doesn't like biting their wrists, but their neck is so covered in marks now that they'll have to wait for some of those bites to heal before they can make more.

"Does it hurt?" Whumper asks as they kiss right next to the wound.

Whumpee shrugs, then nods. "A little," they admit. "I'm dizzy."

"Aw, I'm so sorry. You know I hate having to hurt you, don't you?"

"You'll die otherwise, right?" Whumpee asks hopefully. "You need me?"

"Yes. I need you to keep me alive, and you need me to keep you calm. You're much better off as my companion than you were before."

Whumpee's brow creases. "What was I before? I don't remember."

Whumper hums, pulling Whumpee into a gentle hug. "No one at all, dearest." Definitely not one of the city's most renouned vampire hunters, they think with a smirk. "No one at all."

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#whump #whump community #whump tropes #whump writing #whumpblr #whump scenario #whump ideas #whumpee #vampire whump #intimate whumper #hypnosis whump #brainwashing #cw blood #pet whumpee #bloodbag whumpee #vampire whumper #whump ask

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whump-mania · 15 days

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(Loosely inspired by THAT scene in 1984)

(tw: forced love/relationship (nothing explicit), electrocution torture, brainwashing, cursing)

Whumpee gripped the sides of the chair that their arms and legs were bound to. They stared blankly forward, ignoring Whumper’s fingers combing through their hair.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions, Whumpee,” Whumper said softly. “You know well what happens if you answer incorrectly.”

Whumpee sat still and waited. They hated Whumper more than anything. They wouldn’t show their fear.

“Do you love me?”

Whumper took a slow breath, closing their eyes. They braced for pain. “No.”

It came immediately. The electricity coursed through their body, making them tense and writhe as much as the chair allowed them. The pain stopped as quickly as it started, and Whumpee slumped in their restraints, whimpering.

“Incorrect. Let me ask again.” Whumper’s tone was dangerous. “Do you love me?”

“No.”

Pain. Searing hot pain, and for longer this time.

“Do you love me?”

“No!”

Again.

“Do you love me?”

“FUCK YOU!”

Again, and worse.

Eventually, around the tenth go, Whumpee couldn’t answer anymore. Whumper took a break and lifted their heavy head in their hand by the jaw.

“So stubborn. I thought I’d taught you better.” Whumper dropped Whumpee’s head. “You’ll learn.”

“Please,” Whumpee pleaded weakly. “Please, make it stop…” they whimpered. It was too much. They couldn’t put up the act anymore.

Whumper chuckled and kissed Whumpee on the cheek. “I will, baby…when you answer me the way you need to.”

Whumper walked behind them again. “Whumpee. Do you love me?”

“Y-Yes,” Whumpee choked out. Anything for it to be over. Anything for this all to—

Pain.

Whumpee wailed and twitched when it was over. They hadn’t been ready that time.

“I—I said yes!”

“But you’re still lying, love,” Whumper said darkly. “You don’t even believe the words you’re saying.”

“But I do!” Whumpee yelled desperately, the panic clear in their eyes. “I love you, I—”

Pain, screaming, nothing.

“Liar.”

Pain, screaming, nothing.

“You love me.”

Again.

“You are obsessed with me.”

Again.

“You are so deeply in love with me that no one else matters to you.”

Whumpee couldn’t scream anymore. Their brain couldn’t catch up with the pain. Whumper walked back around and lifted Whumpee’s head again. Whumpee was unconscious.

Whumper sighed deeply and undid the restraints to the chair. “We’ll try again tomorrow,” they said as they carried Whumpee off to bed.

#whump #whump blog #whump community #whump writing #whump scenario #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #tw cursing #tw torture #tw electrocution #1984 #tw brainwashing

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abhainnwhump · 5 months

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Under mind control, Whumpee has no idea what they're doing. Then Whumper sets them free. Whumpee realizes they've done so much damage, they've harmed and killed so many people, they beg to go back under it. At least they won't feel or remember the pain.

#whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump prompt #whump tropes #conditioned whumpee #sort of #mind control whump #mind control #brainwashed whumpee #implied death #implied torture #sadistic whumper #fantasy whump #magic whump

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snakebites-and-ink · 2 months

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What can I say, I was in a mind control/brainwashing mood. I’ve also lowkey been on a living weapon kick for a while, so I guess it was inevitable I would combine the two.

If the flow or voice of my writing changes unexpectedly in this one, that’s because I skipped around like crazy and wrote adjacent chunks of this at totally different times. 😅😅😅

CW: Brainwashing, mind control, captivity, corruption, dehumanisation, somewhat creepy whumper, bad ending (for the hero anyways 😈). I think I got a little unhinged with this one….

Hero was brought before their enemy, held between two of Villain’s goons.

“Villain.” Hero glowered. The villain came closer and looked them over.

“I’ve finally caught you,” Villain said, smiling. “Oh, you’re going to do great things for me.”

“I’ll never help you!”

“Not of your own free will, you won’t. But I believe I’ve found a way around that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Villain didn’t elaborate. Hero was taken to a dark room and forced into a chair with a gratuitous number of restraints. They tried to fight, but eventually ended up strapped down. And then more thoroughly strapped down. Restraints all over their limbs, across their torso, then something that wrapped around their forehead.

“I’d tell you that resisting is useless, but I don’t expect you’d listen,” Villain said from off to Hero’s side. “Well, I’ll see you later, Hero.”

Hero could hear the infuriating smile in Villain’s voice even though they weren’t looking at them. Hero growled slightly and tugged against the restraints—which didn’t give way, of course, Villain wasn’t that careless.

Hero heard the door shut, and just like that they were left alone in the darkness.

…

At first, Hero wasn’t sure what Villain had been talking about. Of course, they weren’t happy about the restraints and captivity, but none of it seemed out of the ordinary. They could handle this. Villain’s insinuations made them a little nervous, though. Villain wasn’t the type to make idle threats.

When they got bored and irritated enough, Hero tried shouting. No response. Still, they felt they could handle this. It’s not like their nemesis’ smug face was much better than isolation anyways.

…

It wasn’t just isolation that they were dealing with. Hero wasn’t certain how, but Villain was messing with their head without even speaking to them. It hadn’t been immediately obvious, but it was too consistent and drawn out now for Hero to explain it away as just their imagination. Lies were slithering their way into Hero’s mind in a manner similar to their own thoughts, but far too methodical to be just that. Sometimes Hero even experienced feelings that didn’t belong, however briefly. Hero knew they were lies, and could consciously reject them, but they couldn’t block them out.

Hero figured the most likely culprit was the weird band thing Villain had put across their forehead. It was thick and clunky enough to have some weird technology in it, and it didn’t seem a necessary part of their restraints. Hero wiggled and thrashed their head as best they could, but it seemed to be fixed in place too well for them to get it off that easily.

…

Hero had bruised themself struggling. Probably scraped a little too. They were sore in countless places from pulling and fighting against the restraints, but it had all been in vain. Nothing seemed any looser, and that horrid device was still well affixed to their head.

They were not giving in. With a physical struggle having proved useless, Hero turned their efforts at resistance inward, focusing on fighting whatever Villain was trying to do to them in their own head rather than in the physical world.

…

Hero was agitated. They didn’t feel quite right. They couldn’t be sure that whatever Villain was using on them wasn’t already having an effect. They countered it as best they could with their own thoughts, but they couldn’t be sure.

…

Hero felt sick. It was like what Villain was doing made them all messed up inside. They weren’t sure if it was a psychosomatic result of an emotional reaction they were having, or if some part of Villain’s treatment actually had a physical effect on them, but Hero was feeling nauseated. And just…off. They squeezed their eyes shut and made a sound that was a little too pathetic for their taste. They didn’t feel right. They wanted out.

…

Hero was still feeling unwell when Villain checked in on them.

Hero was transferred to a different room and restrained in a different position, but they were kept just as secure as before. Their captor strode into the room, seeming far too comfortable for Hero’s liking.

“Villain,” they spat, jerking ineffectually against their restraints with the automatic urge to fight their nemesis.

“Got some fire left in you, I see. Tell me, do you still remember your name?”

Hero cursed Villain instead of answering. Of course they still remembered their name, but they weren’t giving Villain any information that might make Villain’s nasty little project easier.

Villain was unphased by the vitriol. “Hmm. Sounds like it’ll take a while.”

“What will take a while? What exactly are you doing?”

Villain shrugged with the slightest of smirks. “Don’t worry about it. By the time you find out for sure, you won’t mind. Now unless you have something productive to say, I think we’re done here.” Villain beckoned to one of their henchmen.

“No! Don’t put me back in there!” Hero wished they could have said that in a way that sounded remotely threatening, but they just sounded desperate. They couldn’t let Villain change them, couldn’t lose themself.

“I’m afraid there’s not much of an option. Unless you’ve miraculously decided to change sides?”

“I’m not helping you. I’m not helping you.” Hero pretended they were only saying it to spite their captor, and not saying it partially to reassure themself. “I won’t do it.”

“We’ll see.”

Hero screamed and fought as Villain dragged them back there, but it wasn’t enough. Villain had them secured too well for it to result in anything but a few more scrapes and bruises.

Hero went back to the darkness, back to the restraints and the sickening feeling of Villain’s messages sidling their way into Hero’s brain.

…

They tried to fight it. They really did. But Hero couldn’t keep it up all the time, not for this long. They found themself slipping. Not listening really, but letting things through. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t what they wanted, but it was easier.

They picked up their efforts at resistance again when they caught themself, but the fact that they caught it happening multiple times was telling enough.

…

Hero’s humanity felt further out of reach than ever before. It didn’t really feel like a person anymore. That wasn’t a good feeling. Hero wept.

…

It couldn’t remember its name. That was distressing. It wasn’t supposed to be able to feel distress, but it did. It wished it didn’t.

…

It had been told its name was 491. It supposed that must be true.

Something was still wrong, though. Its feelings weren’t quite right. It didn’t feel like this was how things were supposed to be. It knew things were meant to be this way, really, it just didn’t feel right. Maybe it just needed more time.

…

The weapon didn’t feel distressed anymore. It didn’t feel much at all. Villain had fixed it. It was working better now, not experiencing incorrect feelings or going against what it was made for.

It wasn’t going to fight against them any more. It would do what it was told, as it was meant to. It wouldn’t struggle anymore, or have bad emotions like it had when it was working wrong.

It understood what it was, and who it belonged to. It was a weapon, forged by Villain and for their purposes. The resemblance it had to real people was a testament to Villain’s craftsmanship rather than any sort of indication of its humanity. Its maker and owner was very skilled, and someone more than worthy of its best.

…

It didn’t know how long it was before Villain got it out of its restraints. Not that such things mattered to it. It was Villain’s to keep where they wanted, and they needed to make sure it was fixed and working right.

“How are you doing now?” they asked once it was freed and standing.

“Operating properly, sir.”

Villain grinned. They ran their hands over the weapon, inspecting, and it stayed in place and let them. Villain looked over it hungrily.

They slapped its face. It showed no reaction except to turn its head to face forward again afterwards.

“Perfect,” Villain purred, leaning on its shoulder and twirling a finger in its hair. 491 didn’t react to the handling.

Villain grabbed its hair and pulled its head back, exposing its throat. Not a very strategic position to put the weapon in, but of course its owner could do whatever they wanted with it. “Will you tell me what you are?” they breathed into its ear.

“Your weapon, sir.”

“That’s exactly right.” They released it and righted its head. “And you have no problems with that? No problems with doing whatever I say?”

“Of course not. That’s what I’m made for.”

“Yesss. Perfect.”

Villain took a step back and looked over their weapon once more. They were smiling, with something like victory in their eyes.

“Your precious hero agency won’t stand a chance,” Villain said gleefully.

“Sir?” 491 didn’t understand; the hero agency didn’t belong to it, nor did 491 think of it as precious.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s just…a figure of speech.”

“Yes, sir.”

#whump #original fic #whumpblr #whump writing #heroes and villains #hero/villain whump #living weapon whump #living weapon whumpee #brainwashing #my posts #my writing

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whumpy-daydreams · 2 months

Note

Since you mentioned living weapon prompts…

Defiant whumpee with some sort of superpower finally breaking and becoming a weapon?

ooh i love this and now its really long and i want to write more because i have the plot bunnies

CW: electric shocks, brainwashing, needle mention, military indoctrination

Whumpee had been sloppy. They'd trusted the wrong people and been screwed over as a result. And now they had been arrested? Drafted? They supposed the specifics didn't matter.

Whumpee was wondering how long they'd been stuck in this stupid chair when a door opened, pneumatics hissing as a portion of the wall slid aside.

The man in uniform didn't smile. He sat opposite, barely registering them as he opened a file, scanning through the two pages inside. That was good. They clearly didn't have much information about what Whumpee could do.

"Please state your name for the record."

If Whumpee could cross their arms they would have. But instead they just cocked their head, lips pursed. A slight twitch was all that gave away the man's annoyance.

"It would be in your best interest to comply."

"Why?"

"Because it will save me time and you pain." He clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward slightly. "Your name."

"You forgot the magic word," Whumpee smirked. A jolt of electricity burst across their wrists and ankles. Clearly the restraints were for more than keeping them in place. "Shit!"

"As I said, it is in your best interest to comply. What is your name?"

"Fuck. You." Another flash of pain, stronger than the last, and Whumpee cried out through gritted teeth. Their heart was pounding now, sweat beginning to bead on their back.

The man waited patiently. Whumpee just glared.

When the electricity hit again they screamed, back arching. White flashed across their vision. Whumpee wished they could move. Wished they could shake out the growing cramps in their arms and legs. Still the man just watched, waiting.

Whumpee lost track of time as shock after shock hit them, the only breaks in the silence being the sounds of screaming and the same question from the man, over and over and over. Your name.

"Whum-" their voice caught between sobs, "-Whumpee. My name's Whumpee."

They were drenched in sweat now, limbs shaking from the electricity that had coursed through them just moments before. They were so tired.

The man just nodded, not bothering to write anything down. Bastard. He already knew their name. All Whumpee had done was shown how much pain they could take.

"Would you like some water?" The question caught them off guard. After a moment Whumpee nodded. The man reached down, putting a glass of water on the table, a straw already in it, but didn't move it closer.

"You are being recruited into a special division here. There are others like you already in service, and you will receive comprehensive training to complete your missions."

"Why would I do that?" Whumpee rasped.

"To serve your country. You would receive compensation: food and lodging, thorough medical care, as well as a generous package when you retire."

"Can I think about it first?"

"While cooperation is preferable, we do not need any consent from you to enrol you into the program. I will repeat that it is-"

"In my best interest to comply." Whumpee finished for him. They looked at the glass of water and thankfully the man got the hint. He brought it forward, holding it so Whumpee could drink from the straw.

They took a long sip, looked at the man, and spat it in his face. "You can go to hell." He reeled back, wiping the water from himself with a sleeve. To Whumpee's dismay he didn't look angry, or even particular annoyed.

"Perhaps you need some time to think about it." Was all he said before leaving, the door hissing shut behind him.

___

Whumpee sagged forward in the chair, cheeks stained with tears and sweat as their muscles spasmed.

It had been hours. The shocks were random, or random enough that they hadn't been able to find a pattern - though it was hard to keep track when you kept getting electrocuted.

They didn't have the energy to scream any more. Strained whimpers and a rigid body the only sign of the electricity coursing through them. I won't let them do this to me. I won't let them turn me into a monster.

A firm hand on their arm startled Whumpee, who flinched away, silently sobbing. Then a scratch on the back of their hand, the strange feeling of tape keeping something secure. Whumpee didn't have the energy to look.

"Please..."

"Let it run through before shocking again, don't want them dislodging it." A different voice, and a murmur of acknowledgement. A few minutes silence.

"Have you thought about your situation, Whumpee?" The man's voice again, calm and professional. Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou- "This can all stop if you want it to. All you have to do is cooperate."

It was so tempting. It would be so easy to give in. The exhaustion in Whumpee's body screamed at them to say yes, to accept whatever future they were offering.

With a sob, Whumpee shook their head.

"Why?" The man's voice was different now: softer, gentler. "You have no family, no true friends. Here you will have purpose. People to depend on, a stable place to live, the chance to make a difference in the world."

It was true. Whumpee didn't have anyone they trusted. There was no hope, no purpose, no stability in their future. Because of you. It was their fault Whumpee didn't have those things.

"Just let me leave," they said weakly.

"I can't do that. You belong here, even if you don't realise it yet." Whumpee heard rather than saw the man walk over. He pushed them upright, their head lolling backwards. "What's your name?"

"Whumpee." They didn't know why they said it. Whumpee told themselves it was because he already knew, but deep down that was a lie. It just... happened. They felt pliable, like their brain had been massaged into acceptance.

A video hologram appeared in front of them. It showed people in uniform eating together, playing games, doing training exercises and helping each other. Images of clean facilities, sports and books and tidy bedrooms flashed past one another.

It looked... nice? Not cosy but safe and welcoming. The calm speech of the voiceover repeated itself in Whumpee's brain.

'You'll be part of a family trained to be the best'

Whumpee wanted a family. They wanted to feel safe. Loved. To not have to worry about food and shelter, or who to trust. They're lying to you. The voice in their head took on an uncertain tone.

"Well, Whumpee? Are you ready to cooperate?" Yes. No. Whumpee didn't say anything, their thoughts merging together in a swirling pool of conflicting needs.

The man didn't say anything as he left again. Panic gripped Whumpee and they nearly called after him but it was too late. The door disappeared into the wall.

But no shocks came. Instead another video started, this time an interview of a young woman in uniform. She had powers too. And despite Whumpee's exhaustion they couldn't help but listen.

Another video played afterwards, and another, and another. Each one echoed in Whumpee's head, the voice telling them it was a lie getting quieter until it all but disappeared. Calmness spread over them, making them forget about the shocks, about the fact Whumpee had been kidnapped.

When the man finally reappeared, Whumpee looked at him silently.

"Are you ready to comply?"

"Yes."

#mortiawrites #whump #military whump #electrocution tw #electrocution #brainwashing #living weapon whumpee #defiant whumpee #whump prompt #whump writing

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