caracaswhump

[caracaswhump]

Mechthild is the first pet I've ever owned. My understanding of cat owners was purely logical, but now it is visceral. I understand why cat owners are like this. If anything happened to this little animal, I would end up in prison, were it not for the fact that I have to take care of this little animal.

[caracaswhump]

Fantasy story where one whole race of characters seems to consist 100% of villainous individuals, from lawful evil to chaotic evil, with very few and rare neutral individuals among them. Everyone assumes that their homeland - which is a closed-off, distant and seclusive place where next to no-one is allowed to visit - must be a dark and horrible place where everyone is insanely cruel, but once the protagonists have the rare opportunity to visit, the place is actually astonishingly pretty, tidy and well-organised, and every individual they meet seems to be a highly upstanding, law-abiding citizen who wholeheartedly trusts everyone they encounter to be one, too.

Then it turns out that their legal system is actually downright draconian, but the only punishment for all but the pettiest crimes is exile. Anyone who breaks the law is simply thrown out, and that's why the rest of the world is only familiar with this community's outcasts and criminals. And as pretty as it is, at the end of the day this land is a dark and horrible place, whose values are insanely cruel.

[caracaswhump]

Highlights from the conference room where they nominated contenders for Word of the Year 2023:

• They put Skibidi Toilet on the projector to explain what “skibidi” means.

• Baby Gronk was mentioned.

• We discussed the Rizzler.

• “Cunty” was nominated.

• “Enshittification” was suggested for EVERY category.

• “Blue Check” (like from Twitter) was briefly defined as “Someone who will not Shut The Fuck Up”

• The person writing notes briefly defined babygirl as “referencing [The Speaker]”. He is now being called babygirl in the linguist groupchats.

• MULTIPLE people raised their hand to say “I cannot stress this enough: ‘Babygirl’ refers to a GROWN MAN”

[caracaswhump]

Orbeez Hell

This one could be particularly fun for a gardener or florist whumper and a fairy tiny, since orbeez originally were used for flower arrangements...

A tiny whumpee’s whumper wants to be able to finger-fuck them. However, the whumpee is too small to take even their pinky finger, so the whumper decides to stretch them out. How, though, when whumpee is so delicate? Fucking them with tools, even soft ones, could easily tear them apart inside if they slipped or if things got rough. Stretching them seems like an impossible challenge, until the whumper has an idea. Whumpee is restrained, ass-up and helpless, as the whumper inserts a thin tube into their ass. The first things to pour into them are small, round orbs, each as big as the head of whumpee’s thumb, suspended in a thin, slick lube. The beads are being inserted using a medicine syringe through a tube, allowing them to be poured deep into the whumpee’s guts. Whumpee is very, very uncomfortable during this process, of course, but it’s not <i>painful,</i> yet. It doesn’t even hurt that much more than usual when whumper massages their now-swollen stomach, forcing the beads deeper and deeper into their guts. They can feel them, shifting and filling them, but it’s just an awful, invasive fullness as their master removes the syringe from the tube… … and attaches a different one, this time full of water.

It’s poured in slowly, which is a rare mercy. Usually, they’re given hard, fast enemas, if they’ve had them before, designed to make them cramp and cry as the cold water floods them. This one - maybe it’s still cold, but the lube helps, a little, and it’s just a steady, constant trickly.

Whumpee is <i>bewildered.</I>

At least, they are for - a long while. The pressure builds slowly - the awful, growing certainty that their whumper intends to <i>bloat them</I> with this enema. Their whumper laughs at their quiet, scared noises, and tells them to be patient, and maybe presses cruelly on their belly a little as they thrash and wail.

And then they start to feel things <i>shift.</i>

It’s - a while, before they realize it’s the little beads. They’re trembling all over as their body strains, belly stretching awfully, but they didn’t know that the beads would <i>soak up</I> the water inside them.

It’s not until they’re at their limit, face pale with agony, body stretched and round and hurting, that their whumper pauses the water. Then, after a few minutes, tugs the tube free of them - only no water spills out…

The beads, obviously, have soaked up everything. The whumpee is left shaking and crying and <i>full</i> as the whumper picks them up, rubbing their stomach so he can feel the balls shift inside them, teasing them and telling them how good they’ve been. What a perfect little toy…

It’s only as he presses down a little harder that whumpee realizes the <i>point</I> of all this. Because, as bloated and hurting as they are, there’s only one way for the orbeez to come out, isn’t there?

Through a tight, cute little asshole that has never taken anything half as big…

It’s several cruel, tortuous days of suffering before the last bead squeezes out, and whumper can finally work his pinky into his newly stretched toy and feel them clench uselessly around him at last.

(Maybe, if the whumper is feeling really cruel, they wait until only five or six beads are left and administer another enema. This time, the whumpee feels <i>all</i> of it as it pours into deep places it never could have reached before… they only realize the true intended cruelty when the time comes to push out the next bead, and it’s almost twice as large as before.)

[caracaswhump]

Clock Peril

Tiny whumpee tied to a predicament device made from the action of a wall clock - specifically, the second hand. They’re bound with their head facing outward, feet inward towards the action. The device is contained in a tank that whumper fills slowly with water. At first, it’s only filled enough that their head is submerged for maybe 10 seconds - from the 5 to the 7, maybe. They have to hold their breath for 10 seconds, and then they can gasp for all the air they want. Slowly, though, whumper begins to fill the tank. It goes to being full from the 4 to the 8 - then from 3 to 9… Eventually, whumpee can only breathe in a little ten second window at the top of the tank - gasping in terrified breaths before being drowned again for almost fifty seconds. It’s - not an unmanagably long time for them. But the clock action spins tirelessly, and whumpee isn’t inexhaustible… There’s no resting at all, not when every breath has to be so, so carefully timed. 

[caracaswhump]

8 for maze

From this prompt list

Cw: drowning, manhandling, tiny whumpee

Maze watched studiously as the gardener placed a pail full of water on their work table. One can only stare out a window into the forest for so long, and the alchemical projects that Briar worked on were often the most interesting thing going on.

“Would you like a closer look? You seem pretty invested in my work.” They stepped over to the window.

Being somewhere other than this cage? Being able to walk around without the ground swaying nauseatingly? “Sure!”

They unlocked the cage and scooped him up. He didn’t even squirm to get out of their hands, and sat patiently while being carried towards the table. He was content to be placed in their workspace, even if they wanted to keep a vine around his wrists or ankles for extra measure. He’d accept anything to get out of the cage. That is- almost anything.

He panicked when they held him over the pail, grabbing onto their fingers to keep from falling.

“Wait! What are you doing?” He scrambled to hang on as they pushed and pulled to get him out of their hands.

He fell into the pail with a splash.

Coughing and spluttering, he reached the surface, and took as deep a breath as he could manage.

He barely got the chance; the moment he was above the water, a single finger pushed the top of his head, and he went back under.

He swam back up once more, and took another breath, to again be pushed under. The water burned down his lungs and stung his eyes.

Another breath; then pushed back down. This time, all the way down.

His back hit hard against the bottom of the pail. A finger placed on his chest held him down. He kicked, trying to squirm out from under the crushing weight. The pressure increased, forcing the air from his lungs. He could see up to the surface, barely above their wrist.

His lungs screamed for air, the desperation only increasing as his vision grew spotty. He clawed at the finger holding him down, but he wasn’t strong enough to actually do anything.

Just when he thought he was going to pass out, he was lifted from the pail. He took big gasps of air, choking out water. It hurt. He was set on the table, dripping, unable to stand.

After a minute or so, he started to feel more composed. Across the room, Briar ground some herbs in a mortar. After the rhythmic scraping stopped he felt the mortar being set on the table. His leg was grabbed abruptly, and he cried out in surprise.

“Wait no please! Please! Not again!” He kicked against the hold, tears falling. Another splash and he was back in the water

[caracaswhump]

[caracaswhump]

Mermay day 11

Mermaids are forcibly taken away from their home in the sea. Often sold of to collectors that keep them in small tanks, isolated away from their kind. Young merfolk tell horror stories of villains that will take them away

[caracaswhump]

One thing most people don't realize about Gazebos is how bloodthirsty they used to be until the 1930s or so. It used to be that in order to appease your average small town gazebo you had to feed it 4-5 marching bands a year, or roughly 2 dozen barbershop groups. Noawadays? Throw it a steely dan cover act every 6 months, maybe a bridal party every few years if you're actively trying to court its favor, and you're pretty much in the clear. And the crazy thing is nobody knows why they calmed down, or that their appetite for flesh won't return to its 19th century heights one day. It's actually an increasingly popular theory among modern Gazebo researchers that we're at the tail end of a period of dormancy and it's only a matter of time until they start howling for blood again. And if/when that does happen there's the question of whether our modern zeeb-keepers are really ready for the task of booking enough sacrificial acts to meet that increased demand. Guild policy has gotten lax in the century since the heyday of Dark Pavillionism and a lot of local keepers refuse to even look at newer research that threatens to upset their status quo. Kind of scary to think about

[caracaswhump]

Toothpaste Torment

A cute little fairy whumpee (or other tiny whumpee) who is being turned into a living toothpaste tube for their master's use.

First, they're bound and starved until their guts are completely empty, even given an enema to clean them out properly. When they’re completely empty, they’re given an enema of toothpaste - squeezed into them with a syringe until their stomach is bulging with it. Then they’re left in the bathroom - maybe pinned under something, or maybe just in too much pain to move. Either way, they’re left there as their entire body <i>boils</i> with the sting of the mint, completely helpless to escape the pain. That night, their master comes and scoops them up. Maybe whumpee hopes this will be the end, but - nope! They’re instead tormented <i>worse</I> as their master squeezes a little toothpaste out of them, the weight of a thumb pressing their swollen, cramping stomach almost too much to bear. Maybe their master even bullies them a little. The toothbrush bristles are sharp, rubbing across whumpee’s clit, but even worse is having toothpaste scrubbed into their helpless, delicate slit. They can’t help but struggle and thrash, but obviously that gets them nowhere, not until they’ve completely exhausted themselves in their master’s hand. Then they’re unceremoniously thrown into a drawer, which shuts around them, plunging them into the dark. All they can do is wait until the morning, an indeterminate amount of time away, when their master might have a use for them again. (Of course, a week or two later, when they start to finally empty, they’re in for a whole new torment. After all, their master isn’t wasteful - and the fairy is in for fresh suffering as they’re kneaded and squeezed to get out every. last. drop…)

[caracaswhump]

Standard fantasy RPG pantheon, except:

each god is also the patron of one of the setting's local city-states, and each city-state espouses their own version of the pantheon's org chart that positions their patron as King or Queen of the Gods. The gods themselves decline to weigh in on who's correct.

the god of war died in a bizarre trebuchet accident several decades previously; a coalition of other gods have been playing Weekend at Bernie's with their priesthood ever since, doing their best to answer their prayers with variable plausibility and success.

there are two separate gods of knowledge with two separate, non-overlapping cults. Each god's cult is apparently unaware of the other's existence. There's nothing obviously supernatural about this separation; they just never seem to bump into each other.

the supreme god of the Nice Pantheon of Goodness and Light and the supreme god of the Icky Pantheon of Evil and Darkness are clearly the same guy wearing two different hats. Most NPCs react to having this pointed out as though it's obviously absurd.

the obligatory Squiddy Alien Gods From Beyond The Stars are treated as just another branch of the pantheon alongside the usual faux-Greek deities. Nobody thinks it's at all odd that the god of thunder's sworn blood-sibling is a shapeless cloud of blazing eyes.

[caracaswhump]

Ideas:

A lit tea candle beneath them, the heat rising to pool against their skin, just on the edge of burning.

Electric shocks being administered to make them convulse, still helpless as the weights jerk their limbs back into position.

Pepper oil or menthol being applied to their body, with them unable to do anything to address the pain.

A tool like an electric flosser being used to power-wash their body, leaving painful red welts as they try to squirm away. The whole bed being mounted to a wall where the weights can hang freely, leaving them exposed to be used as a display piece.

The same as above, but inverted, so that a birthday candle can be inserted between their thighs. As they struggle, the wax pours down across their naked body.

A thin, long, flexible rod, like a bamboo skewer, is bolted to the same platform as the posts. It’s then bent up until it can rest against the victim’s clit/cock/groin, putting firm pressure on the delicate bits. If drawn back further and released, it delivers an agonizing, powerful strike dead-on to the genitals.

The Four-Poster Bed: A Fairy/Tiny Torture Device

Four raised wooden posts - around 1cm by 1cm by 20 cm - arranged in a rectangle about 5cm wider than the size of the tiny whumpee spread-eagle and secured onto a sturdy wooden base so they can’t warp or come loose. At the top of each post, there’s a tiny pulley - maybe something custom made, or in a modern au, maybe a dollhouse caster wheel or something else repurposed. There is a ‘rope’ - something flexible and sturdy, like cotton trussing twine -  threaded through each pulley with a hook on the end outside the ‘bed’. Inside, the twine is tied to each of four leather cuffs, which the victim is made to put on (or is tied to existing cuffs on their ankles and wrists). As the victim sits in the center of the ‘bed’, weights are added to the hooks attached to the cuffs on their wrists, dragging them slowly to their feet. These weights could be fishing weights, washers, ect. Once the victim is forced to stand, weights are added to the ankle cuffs. This could be slow, forcing them to dangle, or abrupt, jerking them off balance and into the air. Weights are then added until the victim is fully suspended and stretched between the four posts. They can be left at that level, leaving the victim able to jerk in one direction at the expense of being dragged out by all the others, or more can be added until they’re completely helpless, spreadeagle and suspended, unable to move at all. The helpless victim can then be tormented in any way their captor wants, unable to resist - or the ‘bed’ can be used as a form of imprisonment, with the victim left for long periods of time, their limbs and body under constant strain.

[caracaswhump]

The Four-Poster Bed: A Fairy/Tiny Torture Device

Four raised wooden posts - around 1cm by 1cm by 20 cm - arranged in a rectangle about 5cm wider than the size of the tiny whumpee spread-eagle and secured onto a sturdy wooden base so they can’t warp or come loose. At the top of each post, there’s a tiny pulley - maybe something custom made, or in a modern au, maybe a dollhouse caster wheel or something else repurposed. There is a ‘rope’ - something flexible and sturdy, like cotton trussing twine -  threaded through each pulley with a hook on the end outside the ‘bed’. Inside, the twine is tied to each of four leather cuffs, which the victim is made to put on (or is tied to existing cuffs on their ankles and wrists). As the victim sits in the center of the ‘bed’, weights are added to the hooks attached to the cuffs on their wrists, dragging them slowly to their feet. These weights could be fishing weights, washers, ect. Once the victim is forced to stand, weights are added to the ankle cuffs. This could be slow, forcing them to dangle, or abrupt, jerking them off balance and into the air. Weights are then added until the victim is fully suspended and stretched between the four posts. They can be left at that level, leaving the victim able to jerk in one direction at the expense of being dragged out by all the others, or more can be added until they’re completely helpless, spreadeagle and suspended, unable to move at all. The helpless victim can then be tormented in any way their captor wants, unable to resist - or the ‘bed’ can be used as a form of imprisonment, with the victim left for long periods of time, their limbs and body under constant strain.

[caracaswhump]

... A tiny demon could have a little crucifixion, as a treat?

Tied helplessly to a wall crucifix to decorate Whumper's chambers, or, if you like things a little gorier, nailed to it with silver nails.

Oddly specific prompt time,

Whump for Tiny Demons.

Yes, that's right. They're tiny and they're demons!

Spray bottle of holy water. Need to punish or subdue your little demon? Spritz spritz

Dunking them in holy water, all at once or a little at a time

If they have a tail, grab it roughly. Squeeze it, break it. Clip it on to something and let them dangle.

If they have an aversion to silver, hit or stab them with silverware, or trap them in a silverware drawe

Silver cage, tiny silver cuffs. Chain them up with a silver necklace.

If they have wings, staple them to something or together, string them up with wire or thread, pin them down by them.

Tiny whump for tiny horns~~ break them off, saw them down, grate them raw with sandpaper

As always, feel free to add more~