#cyborg whumpee

[crabofthewoods]

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

[toyybox]

robot/cyborg who starts constantly hearing radio frequencies because of the mechanical parts in their head and they can't figure out how to make it stop

[whump-in-the-night]

Whumpy cyborg thoughts tonight:

Turning someone into a cyborg against their will. The shock and horror of discovering someone has changed out their organic body parts with electronic ones. And who knows what plans the whumper has for them. Living weapon stuff perhaps?

Or maybe it was an act of love. Maybe they were dying and it was the only way to save them. But they still didn't have a choice.

Pain from cyborg modification, during the transformation, or after.

If their senses are upgraded they could go into sensory overload

Other people might see the whumpee differently afterwards. Like they aren't even human anymore. Maybe the whumpee even starts to believe it.

[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.

[bonbonbobomb]

...⟪INSTRUMENT OF DESTRUCTION⟫...

MEET THE HARP!

-- NAME: The Harp -- AGE: ...??? -- PRONOUNS: It/Its -- Living Weapon -- Cyborg

The Harp is a state of the art weapon, almost solely responsible for the military power that Requiem, its country (more of an empire), holds. It is feared, it is revered, and almost no one has ever seen it and lived to tell the tale. Other countries tell horror stories about it. Children sing rhymes about it. A hundred thousand different interpretations of its appearance are plastered on propaganda throughout the nation. But what exactly it is, how exactly it was made? That much has remained unknown.

For the time being, of course.

STORY MASTERLIST: TBA!!!

Tags for tagging purposes: @cepheusgalaxy

[fourwingedwriter]

Cyborg Whump Masterlist

Hi hi! This is a new genre for me that I'm trying and really enjoying.

An abandoned Cyborg whumpee found by a mechanic looking for a new challenge. While he figured out how to function as a human again, Caretaker is doing her best to understand her new roommate's human parts as she fixes his mechanical parts

General warnings: Mild Body Horror, Cyborg Whumpee, phantom limbs

Part I

Part II

Part III - Music

Part IV - Movement

Part V - Reflected

Part VI - A New View

Part VII - Fallen

Part VIII - Duet

Part IX

Part X - Change of Scenery

Part I - Making Room for Renovation

Part II - A Void

Part III - A Moment to Process

-

Valentines Special

Ao3 Version *This one is rewritten and improved from the original

Phantom Pain (bthb)

Confined to Bed Rest (bthb)

Sickfic

[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 ^-^

[whumppromptoftheday]

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

ooh! i like that one :)

[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).

[bloodivores]

Cyborg whumpee who was injured as a human and awakes in agony as a stranger fuses them with a machine.

Cyborg whumpee who is losing all functions in their human organs, but who's mechanical additions still carry their body forward even when they're little but a corpse.

Cyborg whumpee losing their humanity. They may have been human once, but the machine has taken over. What really separates them from an Android wearing human flesh?

Cyborg whumpee ruining a unique part of them, knowing they need to find their creator to survive, only to find that their creator has long since died.

Idk. Cyborg whumpee.

[b0amagination]

Malfunction

A little treat! I wrote this for an assignment in my creative writing class and it got kinda whumpy :3

They've got names but they're not established characters or anything! So there's no missed context haha we're just in media res.

Content warnings: cyborg whump, medical whump mention, bad caretaking, heart disease mention

Word count: 685

~~~

The entire point of a synthetic heart was to eliminate these sorts of risks. 

Chk-chk-chk-shhhh. Gears stuttered around the hydraulic line that kept it beating, and a spark drilled through his t-shirt. 

“Jamie?” 

“I’m fine,” he huffed. “The usual catch.”

“Like hell! You’re smoking!”

He peeked down. Dirty tendrils curled out of his chest cavity, filtering out through the newly established chimney. The curdling stench of melted rubber trailed with it.

“And why should that matter, Cal? My heart’s already wading in tar.” But Jamie grabbed them by the wrist and stormed into the bathroom.

Chk-chk-shhhhhh. Bag and jacket slammed down onto cracked tiles. His shirt caught on mechanical components.

“Your lungs are still flesh,” Cal said. The bastard leaned their happy ass against the door, content to watch him flail: a feral beast mauling what may have once been associated with a sheep.

“Lungs can’t have arrhythmia.” His voice fluxed and pitched into a squeaky approximation of his doctor’s from within his fabric prison. 

“Whitten’s a moron.”

“The only moron who’s agreed to fix me,” Jamie grunted, the shredded remains of his shirt finally fluttering to the ground. “Would it have killed you to help?”

“It would kill you if he hears this and decides to weigh in on his patient’s dysfunctional state. We don’t need you relying on his shoddy craftsmanship to rip away any more of your humanity.”

“Shut the fuck up, Cal.” 

To their credit, they did, content to rest in the dim glow of old halogen bulbs. Jamie would have appreciated the sterile hum of fluorescents back in the hospital corridor, but his companion wasn’t entirely devoid of logical thought. Arriving broken to an appointment wouldn’t do him any favors with the doctor.

He turned to the mirror where the faux heart smiled back, nestled comfortably between two steel panels where his pectorals had once wasted the precious space. Wan skin stretched in an endless expanse around it. 

Chk-chk-chk-chk-chk-

Jamie’s fist nearly dented the left panel. 

-shhhh.

“What did I say? Faulty machinery.”

Jamie’s fist nearly dented Cal’s left cheek. The wood grain bowed around purpled knuckles. 

“Make yourself useful and open my back panel.”

“Careful.” They snatched the screwdriver before he got creative.  “Whitten will saw that one off next.”

“Good. Maybe I won’t miss next time.”

The screws whined as Cal shimmied them out, already stripped from the last ten times. Oil and grease slithered out when they reached inside for the same loose gear.

“Before I tighten you up…”

“Save it, Calvin,” Jamie spat. 

“No. No, listen to me, dammit!” They squeezed the hydraulic line and simulated beating came to a shuddering halt. “That tick-tick-tick in the upper chamber feels familiar, doesn’t it? You didn’t care to notice, but I studied your heart readings before you let that maniac replace it, and this thing is mimicking your atrial fibrillation. Whitten didn’t fix anything!” Jamie’s fist found its mark. 

“Get your filthy hands out of my chest! This fucking thing keeps me alive, and you think you can use it as leverage to preach your naturalist bullshit?! How about I squeeze the breath from your throat, huh? How high and mighty will you be then?” An open palm pushed Cal back up against the door.

“This isn’t about an agenda, it’s about him!”

“Human hearts can’t be tightened and adjusted.” Each finger clamped down one by one, compressing supple skin. “One little mistake and it’s all over.”

“Is that a threat?” Cal wheezed.

“Stand down, or it will be.”

Chk-chk-chk-chk-shhh. Smoke billowed up between them. 

“Let me be clear,” Jamie continued. “I’d let Whitten pick apart every bone in my body before I let you lay another finger on me.” Cal was flung to the ground, clutching their crushed trachea and retching softly against moldy grout and piss-stained stones. The salt and rot crawled up their tongue.

“Don’t come crawling back when he ruins you too, Jamie.”

He slung his bag over a bare shoulder and dropped the jacket into Cal’s arms. A moment of hesitation, then a wad of saliva splattered across their forehead.

“Keep your sympathy.”

[crimsons-whump-pile]

hey. hey! very vivid mental image of a cyborg whumpee strapped into an apparatus and connected to it by pipes and wires that are so interwoven with their mechanical parts that to attempt to escape would cause them indescribable physical pain!

just think. maybe they’re being used as a power source, or maybe they’re being analyzed and studied. they’re being kept here and treated like an object, shown no compassion no matter how much they scream, because whumper doesn’t see them as human. they don’t even see whumpee as alive. whumpee is inanimate to them — just the subject of a cruel experiment, pinned like a bug under glass.

Getting poked and prodded and zapped and jabbed. Being injected with who knows what at all hours of the day. Waking up unable to remember ever falling asleep, only to realize that they’re missing a toe or a hand or an eye, because whumper needed more genetic material. maybe the missing piece is replaced with more circuitry. maybe it isn’t. At this point, whumpee doesn’t know which is worse.

and it gets to the point where whumpee feels like the ship of Theseus — so much of them has been replaced, that they don’t even know if they’re themself anymore. they don’t know if they’re human anymore. were they ever even human in the first place? they’ve spent so long being treated like an experiment by whumper, that if and when they finally manage to get out, they can no longer remember how to function like a person. they can’t move with these limbs that aren’t their own. maybe caretaker finds them — maybe caretaker got them out in the first place — but how do you teach someone how to be a human again, especially someone who used to already know?

[killjoyconstruct]

God I love defaced propaganda posters

[bltzgore]

Tw: mention of skinning

Thinking about cyborg whumpee who's become so much machine they can't feel simple things anymore. But they have this one little patch of still human skin, say on their arm or torso, or it could be around one of their eyes. It's the last place on them that can still feel the warmth of the sun that just barely makes it between the bars of a window they can't reach, or the cold that rushes through the door whenever whumper comes to get them.

They take care of this part of themselves, they hide it, they shield it when whumper lashes out, it's the last part of themselves that is them.

Then, the day that whumper discovers it. (Suppose it could be accidental, but what fun is that?)

They pin whumpee down, and they skin that flesh off them as they scream, and squirm, and cry for whumper to stop, to let them have this, please.

Whumper only grins and goes slower.

[flynnswhumpprompts]

Idea

Cyborg whumpee's who can see as their system screams warning after warning until it shuts down. Whumper not worried about pulling the whumpee apart because its more wires than flesh.

Cyborg whumper who doesn't need a knife. Just their metal pieces ti beat up whumpee and have them so scared of people in general. Monitoring vitals of whumpee without being in the room thanks to their stuff.

Cyborg caretakers who can raise the tempature of their limbs to warm whumpee back up. Who can note the elevated levels of stress before the breakdown. Who isn't afraid to go after whumper because they are more wires than flesh. Who has a dozen and two hidden compartments stocked with stuff for whumpee, bandages, medicine, comfort items, (a knife to stab whumper with).