#cyborg whumpee

[crabofthewoods]

robot/android/cyborg whumpee’s screams of pain broken up by static <33

[seth-whumps]

oh but android whumpees though. rough maintenance, conflicting orders, the difference between feeling and programming. is it grief or did you fail your mission? is it pain or have you malfunctioned? error codes across your vision. system diagnostics on the exact amount of danger you're in. commands and disobedience and ownership and devotion and the thick substance that's not quite blood on synthetic, torn, inhuman skin. robot whumpees.

[snakebites-and-ink]

Thinking about nonhuman whumpees where the whump doesn't come from being treated as other than human

A robot whumpee who could handle being used as a thing if they were a lovingly maintained one instead of tossed aside like trash…a cyborg who wouldn't mind being considered more machine than human if that weren't used to get away with abusing them…a creature whumpee who might be okay with being a pet but not a punching bag…a mer whumpee who could thrive and be happy in an aquarium if only it was a proper one instead of one that keeps them in poor conditions and/or forces them to perform too often…You get me?

[whumporama]

Have you ever considered a cyborg whumpee with a device implanted in them?

What if cyborg Whumpee was created in a lab, but has since escaped and now lives with Caretaker?

-------

It was quiet in the house, but for Whumpee, it suddenly exploded into chaos. Every flicker of light was like a stab behind their eyes, the feeling of clothes like blades on their skin, every sound like a gun going off next to their head. It felt like their nerves were on fire, the device in their head that was meant to make them better than humans glitching and running on overdrive, now making everything too much.

Whumpee stumbled, their back hitting the wall before they slid down to the floor, hands over their ears as they squeezed their eyes shut, trying to shut everything out. The humming of machines, the buzz of electricity in the air, the wind blowing outside, the light coming through the window- but it was no use. It was too much, too much, too much

They don't know how long they sat there, fingers clawing at their head as their senses kept being overloaded by that stupid broken device. It could have been minutes, hours, or even days.

When the door opens and Caretaker entered, the sound is so loud it made Whumpee scream and curl up further. Caretaker instantly rushed to their side, trying to touch Whumpee to see what's wrong, but the sensation is too much, like hot coals being pressed into their skin, and Whumpee screamed again.

Caretaker seemed to understand what's happening. “Hey…hey, it’s alright. I’m here,” they murmured softly, their voice low, soothing. "It's the device for your senses, isn't it?"

Whumpee was barely aware of their words, lost in the violent storm of sensations, but they felt the warmth of the caretaker's presence, a grounding weight just on the edge of their awareness. They let their hands fall from their ears, reaching out desperately, their fingers brushing the caretaker's arm as they searched for something real, something that wasn’t pain and sound and light.

“Easy,” Caretaker said softly, moving closer so he could hold onto them. “I know it’s too much. Just breathe with me. We’re going to get through this.”

Slowly, Caretaker reached out, gently pushing Whumpee's head down. Whumpee flinched at the contact but let themselves be guided, exposing a port at the base of their neck. They could feel Caretaker mess around with it, but they focussed on their breathing, of anything else than the sensations still burning through them. It was still too much, and another flash of light made them curl up even tighter, a soft whimper escaping them.

Caretaker shushes them, the sound impossibly loud yet comforting. Caretaker knew what to do, they were also one of the few people who had access to Whumpee's systems like that.

Slowly, mercifully, the sensations began to ebb. The brightness dulled, the cacophony faded, and the raw agony in their nerves settled into a quiet ache. They took a deep, shuddering breath, their grip on their hand loosening as they slumped back, feeling the heaviness of exhaustion settle over them.

"There you are," Caretaker whispered gently. "Better?"

Whumpee nodded as they collapsed against Caretaker, exhausted. They closed their eyes, letting the warmth of Caretaker's presence replace the chaos, the pain. And for the first time since the overload had started, they felt a measure of peace.

[whumpingandsmilinglikeanidiot]

Access denied.

Silence.

Access denied.

Access deni-

Access-

A- A- A- A- A- Access denied.

He hit enter again, this time with his fist.

"Fuck!"

Access denied.

[whumppromptoftheday]

Whumpee who's been turned into a cyborg, being packed up and sold like a normal robot.

ooh! i like that one :)

[crimsons-whump-pile]

draw a cyborg whumpee ? (based on the post you made)

it’s a very rough sketch since I spent so much time on my other art pieces today, but hopefully I’ll have time to digitalize and color it later tomorrow ^-^

[bltzgore]

what do you mean by "noncon cyborgs"? 👀 iii wanna knowwwww

Oh my gosh! Thank you for asking!!! Now I get to rant about it 😈

Noncon cyborgs is the nonconsentual modification of a whumpee (whumper or oooooooh! Caretaker!!!) with mechanical augmentations. But thats just a technical description, it's all about what it can be:

- whumpee waking up after being in a fire, a collapsing building, a general disaster, and they're certain they should have died. But they wake up and they are strapped to a steel table in a room that is a few degrees too cold.

- they cannot recognize their own voice

- they cannot feel the cold air on a specific limb

- they aren't breathing. Not that they can't. They aren't. And they're not dying from it?

- the utter silence of it all makes them realize their heart isn't beating either.

- whumper enters and begins to coo, their new creation, their pet, their wonderful new tool, is perfect.

- "What happened to me? How did I survive the ---? Who are you?!"

- whumper shows them a mirror or maybe they see a reflection of themselves in whumper's lab goggles (safety first).

- "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!? WHAT AM I!?"

- whumper smiles, "Sweetheart, you didn't survive the ---." Then they reach down, and they press something under whumpee's jaw.

- Whumpee opens their mouth to start yelling again, to start swearing, anything! Because it's all the control they have left. Their only outlet in this moment of brain shattering terror. But nothing happens. Not a sound come out of their trembling lips.

- whumper just laughs. "I do so love the mute feature."

Obviously there's more:

- whumpee being under some form of control depending on how much of them is mechanical

- now they are more machine than person, they aren't a person. The laws regarding the rights of sentient beings don't protect them anymore. No one is going to help them.

- whumper pulling back one of their panels and invading with cold fingers and carelessness into whumpees innards. Wires occasionally spark sending jabs of pain through whumpee that they cannot stop.

- being partially shutdown and completely immobilized.

- say whumpee does escape or maybe has a second to themself to finally process this. They cannot cry. Their eyes are photo sensors and lenses there are no tear ducts. Everything is just compressing in their chest as they try to survive this overwhelming heart crushing wave of fear and helplessness. (Factor in perhaps they still can't talk).

[bittersweetbonbon]

thinking about cyborg whump. and about losing your free will. being forced to follow commands as your body moves without your input. being treated like any other robot, despite the fact that you're clearly, achingly human.

aren't you?

[a-whumped-tea]

Robotic whumpee glitching instead of stammering.

Their arm getting damaged so their elbow keeps glitching open and closed over and over again.

Them having the knowledge of different ways of communication - different spoken languages, mores code, sign language, etc - and frantically trying to use them in order to beg for the mercy of a complete stranger.

Robotic Whumper not understanding/caring that living beings feel pain differently than them.

Robotic Caretaker having been damaged to the point of not being able to remember all the ways to take care of someone.

[stagelightwhump]

Robot Whumpee who gets sick and tired of human Whumper, so they secretly call in a pick-up request for a malfunctioning robot matching Whumper's description, then happily watch as Whumper is captured and boxed up to be "repaired".

[whumpdrivethru]

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

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

Enjoy!

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

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

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

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

And “life” had been nothing but agony since.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bullshit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, help me.”

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

[whumpish]

Sci Fi Whump Ideas

Alright I saw interaction so I took that as ‘go for it’ (but I also got slammed into the pavement by school so this is very late)

-Pain regulators originally came forward as alternative treatments to medicinal pain relief that posed no risk of addiction or misuse. Many are used to deal with pain after injuries but those who have it installed in the central nervous system can change the settings to not feel pain, only feel one kind of pain, or even feel little to nothing at all.

-When space travel came into the mix the problem of blood floating away from a wound became evident. The solution of a gel-backed bandage was invented. It can slow what would be a fatal wound to a trickle of blood for hours and even days depending. Unfortunately if not used correctly it can damage the tissue and cause infection to go unnoticed.

-When there is no time for stitches or any other kind of binding treatment, there is a product that can be applied to temporarily bind something that may need stitches. It’s a plastic-like ‘glue’ that is applied to cleaned open wounds. Many have reported it’s a cold, tingling, and sometimes pinching sensation. Many others have described it as burning, freezing, or like the wound was being inflicted again.

-Blood can be difficult to handle, so a solution was found. A small device was created that takes a small amount of the patients blood, clones that blood, and pumps it back into the patient. Difficulties being there must be a minimum amount of blood to be taken in order to be cloned, the blood cannot be contaminated in any ways (ie infection, poisoning, etc), and it is a rather time consuming effort. There are mixed opinions about whether or not it is an effective treatment.

-Cyborg ‘shells’ have often been used on a wounded area of the body, allowing full range of motion and the previous abilities while wounds heal beneath it. It is difficult as the ‘shells’ require maintenance and wounds beneath them must also be taken into account so they heal properly. It is not recommended to participate in open space travel while a ‘shell’ is in use.

-The first-aid kits of many spaceships include a pair of glasses that guide users through step by step instructions of wound care and maintenance. Unfortunately they need an adequate assessment of the wound, are rather delicate, and are notoriously difficult when in need of an update. This has led to improper administration of first-aid as the program glitches or tries to recommend care without full knowledge.

[whumpingandsmilinglikeanidiot]

consider: unwillingly cyborg'd whumpee and oblivious whumper who thinks whumpee is just a normal robot

Whumper doesn't approach Whumpee with malicious intent; Whumper isn't sadistic or anything related to it.

Whumper simply treats Whumpee as non-sentient,

because they believe Whumpee is non-sentient. That belief is firm-rooted in their mind.

Whumpee isn't tortured or hurt, not in the 'usual' way, anyway.

Because Whumper's belief is unshakable, they consider Whumpee's pleas as a funny malfunction. Whumpee persisted once, and they started getting annoyed then mentioned the repair shop. Whumpee fears to bring that up again.

It's the little things, when Whumper grabs Whumpee's shoulders without consent, when Whumper's tone drops into disregard, when Whumper talks about errors and bugs-

That's when Whumpee is reminded that Whumper doesn't see Whumpee as human. Never had.

And as time passes, Whumpee starts to wonder.. am I sentient?

and OH my LOVE you would not know how thrilled I am to get an ask like this! I thought only big blogs got prompts in their inboxes! My Broca area isn't working very well right now but I did my best oh wow I love you and great prompt anon

[iamhumannotamonster]

The table was cold.

One of the problems, wasn’t it? The table was cold, the air was too hot, they were uncomfortable, they could feel pain...

A tug on a misplaced cable on their side. Whumpee gritted their teeth.

They turned their head slightly, seeing the faint glow of the campfire show oranges and yellows in the white cloth of the tent. It was calming, it should be calming, because there was nothing to be worried about and yet they still were on edge, feeling as if-

Whumpee looked up at Caretaker.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Whumpee lied then turned their head towards the cloth walls again, they could still see caretakers face, as well as their own abdomen in the periphery.

Caretaker didn’t say much else, continuing to work in fixing the wires. Some were mangled or cut, others merely misplaced, but the extent of Whumpee’s injuries wasn’t severe enough to merit a tactical retreat back to the principal camp, it wasn’t even severe enough to be necessary being treated immediately and yet Caretaker insisted.

“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?” Caretaker asked softly. So concerned. Whumpee almost felt ashamed for worrying them. “You seem to be on edge”

“You are taking too long” that much was true, they just wanted to get this over with.

“I apologize, the a bit of the metal had been cut inwards when those rocks pierced you and the fall made some circuits there get trapped along where it bended. Even though it’s merely superficial it would not be ideal to work faster in getting them out and risking damage, if you had fallen in the other side of your abdomen I may have prioritized getting wires out before blood could clot along those sticking together but then,” They laughted lightly “ I believe in that case we would have a very different problem to worry about, wouldn’t we?”

Whumpee just gave a uh-hum, knowing they have been asked a question at the end of all that, while firelight kept on illuminating the makeshift room, painting colors where there aren’t any to Whumpee’s glee, they have never liked white, why did they choose that color for the tent? in insight it was a poor decision, they will be trading it for something more vibrant later, maybe orange.

Whatever Caretaker had to say about Whumpee’s semi-artificial biology is forgotten, otherwise they will just feel enraged.

Caretaker is their ally, they are fixing them right now, they mean no harm to Whumpee, they have nothing to do with...

They suppressed the urge to take a deep breath. Otherwise Caretaker would believe they are in trying to calm themselves through pain. Not so far off an assumption,

Whumpee didn’t know how to feel about Caretaker since the first time they saw their face, how they talk, how they interacted with other people and everything, everything about their existence.

They were so, so human.

So unlike Whumpee.

[silkenblankets]

The job was done, red coated the scene and it felt like he could finally think. There was a moment of bittersweet silence, lowering his metal arm and taking in a deep breath. Gunpowder, it wasn't his first time smelling it. Every time before, that scent meant another piece of him was torn from his body, his identity would break into a smaller shard than before.

But it also meant freedom. The initial fear of pain dissolved, replaced by a sweet catharsis. He dropped the weapon, walking up to the body and lifting it's right hand. A handcrafted ring, silver band, with small grey stones beaded on either side of a slightly larger stone resting atop the finger. It came off with a good tug, inspecting the metal before attempting to place it on his own finger. The metallic surface didn't hold the ring, and so he opted to hide it in his only worldly possession: a small pouch of dice pulled tight around his artificial wrist.

Turning his back on his God, he left the home and everything that happened within it. He was lost, he was angry, he was doubtful. But he knew the driveway led to a road, a city was to the right. Or, something similar. He wasn't sure, but it was his only plan.

The road was endless, and unkempt. Despite the dullness of his touch, he could feel the loose asphalt under his feet, scuffing the metal and adding small dents to the form. It was cold, his jacket was the only thing keeping his body from shivering. Slightly oversized with tearing in the sleeves, the only clothing he could fit over the thick spikes worked into his prosthetics. He has always disliked the shape, now outright hating the form it gave him.

He could tell his legs would be sore by now, his hips already ached and his back hurt. The man's posture was more akin to a zombie, his body long since tired.

The moon had been thrown over him, completing its arc as he entered the small city. The sun had begun to emerge, everyone would be waking up soon. But not God. That felt nice to know... But the rattling in his foot signaled damage, he wanted to patch that up. Except he didn't have materials, or method.

Lifting his eyes from the ground, his gaze bounced from one building to the next. Maybe he could find someplace that fixed cybernetic limbs? Though, as far as he knew, nobody really had those. For whatever reason, he had been made the outlier, rather than another corpse in the frigid winter.

Oh, that looked promising. A building that looked more like a garage than the others, the inside showed displays of what looked to be assorted car parts. But it was small and cramped inside, the business wasn't big in the slightest. He tried to pull open the door, but found it was locked. Must be closed. He tried to plan for what time it would be open, hearing muffled footsteps and the scattered crunch of a latch. Feeling the door open, he backed away and stared at who opened it.

A short brunette wearing some kind of work jumpsuit, a name tag was embroidered on the fabric: Michael.

"Hey- do you need something? Are you okay?"

It took him a moment to process that he needed something, he needed to be fixed.

"Do you do repairs?" His metallic voice caused visible confusion in Micheal. "Yup. What for?"

"... My foot."

Michael looked down, skipping past the exposed hips and crouching to inspect the metal appendage. Tilting his head, he gave a confused smile. "It doesn't look that bad, I can fix that I suppose."

He nodded quietly, following the smaller man inside the building. Michael pulled a chair into the garage, which was empty as of now. Motioning to the seat, the cyborg sat down in silence. His foot was lifted and set on a crate, Michael went from one toolbox to the next before returning with a handful of material.

For once, he was grateful for his dulled touch, barely aware of the molten heat touching him. Michael must've found the silence uncomfortable, shifting his stance to look at the man. "What's your name?"

"..." Xavier was dirtied. He didn't know what other name he had. "... Xavi."

Michael smiled. "That's a pretty neat name." He glanced to the gashes in Xavi's jacket, clicking his tongue. "Hey would you like those shaved down? They look really uncomfortable."

Xavi looked at Michael, trying not to show his excitement. "... Can you do that?" He got a nod in response, the mechanic stood and pat Xavi's leg. "Of course, then we can put something on ya to keep you from freezing." The man smiled, holding out his hand.

"C'mon, it should only take a few minutes. Maybe I can get to know you better."

It felt... wonderful, to be a person again.

Xavi used the aid of Michael to pull himself back to his feet, his smile hidden behind his artificial jaw. "Thank you."

Michael gave the cyborg a quick, partial hug as he led him towards the rest of his tools. As he rummaged through the drawers, his smile returned.

"My pleasure, Xavi."