#experiment whumpee

[parsley-the-slinking-thing]

Teenage character who was grown in a lab sobbing as they’re strapped down to be vivisected for the second time in their life. But not struggling or hating the scientists for this because this is not wrong. This is just a fact of life. They have tests and surgeries and chemical experiments done on them. So they lay there and wait to be sedated and dread the excruciating pain they’ll wake up in immediately afterwards.

[urlocalwhumper]

living weapon/military experiment whumpee being shown that they can create, not just destroy.

at the command of their former masters, they've razed fields and gardens alike, but now their eyes light up with pride as they watch the flowers they planted start to sprout.

they clumsily hold a paintbrush in their rough, calloused hands. they're a terrible painter, but no one's great when they first start out, and they just enjoy the process itself.

they used to be a mindless monster, an unfeeling weapon who obediently followed orders. but now they've been taught to think, to feel, to love. and they're happy.

[whitecoatwhump]

“I’m sorry, but you have to wear the muzzle during experiments now. While your screaming is understandable, it’s been scaring the other subjects and needs to stop.”

[sir-fenris]

Whumpcember24 - Day 3

Begging

(Drabbles' masterlist)

Content: experiment whumpee, resigned whumpee, intimate/sadistic whumper, begging, hand-feeding, implied torture, leg injury, threat of mutilation, starvation.

The first time Whumpee was thrown in the dungeon cell, they thought pain would be the worst, consistent problem. And well... it was, indeed, consistent and distressing.

But somehow boredom was worse.

Because boredom led to overthinking.

Could they have done something to stop the last session's pain sooner? When will be the next one? Will they be allowed water and food? How many days has passed? Is this consistent pain in the leg normal after being stabbed? Is the lethargy and apathy because of tiredness, or were they going insane?

And slowly, there was so much nothing going on beyond the pain, that their mind had to come up with new questions to fill their "free" time.

Like; how many steps there were between the bars and the wall? What's the highest number they can count to before a new session? How long can they keep their eyes open? How much can they move before jostling an injury too badly?

Any question and thought until the cell door opens.

When torture starts, they hope for it to end.

When torture ends, they hope for it to begin again just to take them out of this endless overthinking.

... And to give them a chance to eat. Because that only happened when Whumper was in a good mood and wanted to play, instead of study torture methods.

"Look who's up early today!" Speaking of the devil...

Whumpee raises their eyes tiredly, barely seeing Whumper clearly anymore, their eyesight is getting worse each day. They don't say anything, they don't need to.

"I was thinking of trying out glossectomy today, but I'm reconsidering..." Whumper muses, walking in the cell with a black bottle in hands.

Whumpee hated when Whumper used their weird-ass words. It meant usually some type of surgery or medical thing, by Whumpee's experience, and it always had the immense potential to be an excruciating experience.

At their tiredly confused expression, Whumper grins gleefully and explains, after crouching down. "Tongue removal, little bird."

Their blood goes cold. Whumper has never chopped off a part of their body. No matter how far they went, Whumpee knew Whumper would at least keep them whole by the end of it, why must it change now-

With a chilling chuckle, Whumper opens the black bottle, and the smell of fruit cuts off Whumpee's thinking.

"Now, now, don't lose yourself just yet. I told you, I'm reconsidering," Whumpee says. "I do love you singing for me, little bird... So I'll give you a chance to prove that I'm better off leaving your tongue where it is. And, if you're good enough, you can have a tasty smoothie, hm?"

The pause sent Whumpee in a frenzy to find out what was the right thing to say, which clues they had in hands to guess what Whumper wanted to hear.

'I do love you singing for me...'

"Please..." Whumpee whispers, lowering their eyes to the ground when Whumper grin grows. "Can I please eat?"

A hooked finger presses their chin upwards, forcing them to meet Whumper's gaze. "You can do better, little bird. Let me help."

Pain burns through their body as Whumper uses their other hand's nails to dig into Whumpee's leg injury. They try to curl into themselves with a stifled wail, but Whumper's hooked fingers turns into a whole-hand grip on their jaw, keeping Whumpee's gaze on Whumper's eyes only.

"P-Ple- Ah! Please, please, c-can I eat?" Tears burn their eyes when Whumper just digs their nails further, still with that vile grin. "Please, I'm begging you, I'm so hungry, please let me eat, please, please-"

Their words are interrupted by a choked gasp as Whumper retrieves both their hands to clap. "There we go, that's better."

Whumpee breaths shakily, closing their eyes to urge the pained tears away.

"Your singing is too pretty for me to cut off your tongue, little bird. Aren't you glad I've changed my mind?" Whumper asks cheerfully, putting a straw on the smoothie bottle.

"... Yes, thank you," Whumpee whispers. At least today's game was easy and fast. It's the easiest food they got in a long while.

"Good song bird. Now, say 'ah' for me."

Whumpee's eyebrows twitched at the straw being tapped against their lips, because their hands were fine, they didn't need nor want Whumper to feed them.

But this was the easiest food they got in a long while. They can't lose the opportunity of easy, tasty nutrition because of pride.

And when the delicious, cold and fresh smoothie reaches their kept tongue, Whumpee forgot why they had even hesitated.

There is no space for pride in survival.

-

(Kinda late, but stills counts as day 3, right? Shhh, for me, it does.)

-

[inkwell-and-dagger]

whumpee looking at themself in the mirror after a particularly gruelling experiment, or perhaps a series of experiments, that changed them physically. seeing what had changed; what they had gained, what they had lost. looking at their own reflection and not recognizing the gaunt, tired face staring back at them

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat CYOA #10

TLLR AU masterlist | TLLR masterlist

content: second person pov (whumpee), lab whump, captivity, test subject whumpee, scientist carewhumper

You chose: Ask questions. Find out everything you can about what this means for you.

— 

“I bet you have a lot of questions,” he says after a while of you two just staring at each other. You nod frantically.

“Y-yeah,” you say, “I do.”

“I suppose it’s only right to let you ask them. Fine. What else do you wanna know?”

Your mind floods with endless questions you have for him, almost too much to process. You start with what seems most important. “H-how long are you planning to keep me here?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “A while? I mean, I don’t ever plan on letting you go. In theory, we’d be here for the rest of our lives. This is your home now, there’s no getting out of it.”

Home? He can’t actually expect you to accept this that easily. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Like I said, I needed a new test subject. Experimenting on myself for… so long… got to be too dangerous.” He sighs. “And I needed a change of pace. Company will do me well I think.”

You bring your knees to your chest, noticing your ankle bringing you less pain than before, despite the sudden movement. “D-dangerous? What are you gonna do to me?”

His eyes light up, those green eyes glowing brighter for a fraction of a second, and he looks giddy with excitement. “I have a lot of plans, and a lot of experiments I've been itching to perform that I couldn’t do on myself. Most of them will consist of testing the limits of the human body and how far I can change it before becoming completely inhuman. I also wanna focus on the key to immortality, but I'm not too worried about that right now. Gotta get you used to what your life’s gonna be like here first, before making it never ending, right?”

“As for the actual experiments?” he continues. “I think it’ll be much more fun if I keep them a surprise.” He smiles a cheeky grin. “But don’t worry, you’ll find out soon.”

He wants to experiment on you, to change you. There’s no way that’ll be completely painless. You’re scared to find out, but you need to ask; “How much will it hurt?”

“…I’ll try my best to make it painless, but that won’t always be possible. It’s science, y’know? Sometimes the pain is necessary to get the results we want. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. You won’t be in any real danger.”

You have a hard time believing that. Experiments? Pain? Mysterious vials of fluid already flowing through your system? It sure sounds like you’re in danger here. He hasn’t exactly been very subtle. You shouldn’t believe a word of comfort he says. “Are you gonna kill me?”

“No!” All the excitement leaves his eyes and he frowns, a horrified look crossing his face from just the idea alone. He shakes his head. “Never. I’ll never let you die, I promise. You’ll be safe here.”

“But you kidnapped me, you drugged me, you hurt me. I don’t feel safe.”

“I did what I had to do. I’m sorry if that scared you, but you’re here now. So everything is going to be alright.”

“But I didn’t wanna come with you, and you took me anyway. You broke into my home.”

“I gave you the chance to come willingly but you didn’t, so I had to take matters into my own hands. You’d already seen me; I couldn’t let you get away and tell people. And I didn’t exactly break in, you always leave your back door unlocked anyway.”

“You… you knew where I lived the whole time?”

“Yeah, I mean, wasn’t it obvious?” He laughs. “I mean, I wasn’t just gonna take some random person off the street to be my new test subject. I needed to know if you were the right fit, and I had to learn more about you so I could get ready for your arrival.”

Curse your noise canceling headphones keeping you oblivious from your surroundings. He’d followed you home more times than just that night. You knew you recognized him!

“How long?”

“Few weeks?”

“Damn.”

“I just needed to be prepared. It was a precautionary measure. I haven’t had an actual test subject in five years, I needed to make sure I was making the right choice.”

“And did you?”

He shrugs. “I hope so?”

You can’t stop yourself from getting more and more anxious about this all. He always seems to be one step ahead. You take deep breaths and try to swallow your nerves. “Why me?”

“Because… I dunno. I just needed someone. You’re healthy, you’re not stronger than me, you’re perfect for experimentation. And you just seemed… lonely.”

“…People will come looking for me.”

His expression warps to one of pity, and his voice softens. “Aw, no they won’t. I have ways to make sure nobody notices you’re gone or comes looking for you. And we’re far, far away, buddy. Nobody will find us out here.”

That can’t be true. You don’t want to believe it. “Where are we?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t want you getting any ideas about escaping, now do we?”

“Is anyone else here?”

“Nope, just me.”

“Who are you working for?”

“Myself?”

“Does anyone else know about this place?”

“…Nope.”

You decide to use a different approach. “Are you really just planning to keep me trapped down here? You can’t just keep me from the outside! I’m a human, not some lab rat, I need sunlight!”

“Well, you are my test subject now so this place is where you belong. I know this room isn’t much, but it’s better than what the alternative would be. But maybe… I’ll take you on walks outside, if you behave. That’d be a good reward! I want you to be comfortable here. And if there’s anything you need, I’ll find a way to get it for you.”

“What about all my things? My home? What’s gonna happen to all that?”

“Those are not yours anymore. You don’t need to think about that. This is your home now. Your old life is behind you.”

A shiver runs down your spine. You can no longer hide the panic in your voice. “You’re really not letting me go?”

“No. Like I said, you’re my test subject now. Everything will be so much easier for the both of us if you just accept that.”

“And if I don’t?”

He frowns. “…Then neither of us will have a good time.”

You look to the floor. He’s really serious about this, about all of this. The lab out there wasn’t just for show, it’s an actual mad science lab filled with dangerous things that could be used to hurt and change you. You have no idea what he’s planning on doing to you and how you’ll end up in the end— or if there will even be an end.

“Hey,” he says softly. You look at him. “You’ll be okay. You’ll probably come to like it here eventually. It won’t be that bad.” After you don't say anything, he asks, “Do you have any more questions?”

“…Are you responsible for all this that’s… going on?”

He blinks, looking genuinely confused. “What’s… going on?”

“You know.”

“No I don’t.”

“You must!”

“If it’s not related to me then… I don’t.” His eyebrows scrunch up and he leans in closer, a worried look plastered all over his face. “Hey, buddy, are you okay?”

You blink. This conversation is going nowhere. He seems to have told you everything he was going to. You know more about what your life will be like here, what he wants with you, what it means to be his test subject. Horrifying relentless experiments done to you with you having no say in the matter, a complete lack of freedom and autonomy. A lab rat to a mad scientist. It has a nice ring to it, but is this really the life you want?

next

— 

hehehehehe

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@sariadragon

let me know if you want to be removed or added to the taglist!

[whumpeteerscrankli]

Scientist Whumper has been working on his greatest achievement, a superhuman, for years. Initially, he had no reason for creating and enhancing Whumpee, aside from the usual “Research purposes” that motivated most of his other experiments.

Imagine how ecstatic he is to hear that a high-ranking government official is in need of protection. Imagine how pleased he is to be granted the opportunity to finally give Whumpee a purpose.

[little-miss-no-namee]

imagine a whumpee with regeneration powers, but his flesh and blood can cure people of any illness or injury

That's why he is kidnapped by a pair of scientists who want to sell his flesh and blood

They say his is helping sick people while they sell his flesh for completely healthy rich people

(thinking about writing this or turning it into an ask comic because I miss them)

(Also english ist my first language. Sorry for any writing errors)

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Whumpuary 2024 No. 7

"I didn't have anywhere else to go" | Bruises | Drugged

Whumpuary Prompt List

TW: kidnapping mention, bruises, drugged whumpee, exhaustion, fight mention, experiment mention

Whumpee stumbled through the city during the pre-dawn hours of the day, their progress severely hindered by strange exhaustion and bolstered by a panicked desire to keep moving. Nobody else was around, which was… good?

It was good. Other people would try to call the police.

The last thing Whumpee wanted to do was to get the police involved.

Because… because Whumper… Whumper would find them. That’s right, Whumper would find them. Whumpee didn’t want that.

Their thoughts moved slowly through their head as if swimming through honey. So it took them a few seconds to realize how silly it was that they had to remind themselves of what they did and didn’t want.

A spike of fear lodged in Whumpee’s stomach, prompting them to pick up their pace. They had to get to safety. 

They had to get to Caretaker.

As the thought crossed their mind in slow motion, it came bearing the sly bonds of doubt. What if Caretaker didn’t want to see them? That was the last thing Whumpee had said to Caretaker when they’d left after their fight. If I see you again, it will be too soon!

Whumpee paused, leaning on a nearby lamp post to catch their breath. Their face reddened with shame at the memory. They couldn’t remember what had sparked the argument, but it had escalated until Caretaker had said something… something unforgivable. Whumpee almost berated themself for not being able to remember before realizing that that was probably a good thing.

The fight was in the past.

How long in the past, Whumpee didn’t know. They weren’t sure how long they’d been held captive; their sense of time had been warped significantly by Whumper’s experiments. Whumpee groaned softly and pressed a hand to the side of their forehead. The bruise, put there by a furious Whumper at Whumpee’s lack of obedience, ached at their touch. 

I can’t have been held more than a couple days, they mused sullenly, but I have no way of knowing.

And right now, it didn’t matter. Whumpee needed someplace to hide, and Caretaker was the only person they could reach.

Motivation sparked, and Whumpee began walking again. Or tried walking. It ended up being more of a drunken stagger than actual steps being taken. Whumpee stumbled over an uneven patch of stone but caught themself on a convenient bench. If they fell, they suspected they wouldn’t be able to get themself to their feet again.

And then Whumper would find them.

And they would have to start all over.

No.

There would be no starting over.

Whumper would make certain Whumpee couldn’t escape again.

Whumpee quickened their pace. They needed to get to Caretaker before it was too late. Thankfully, the building where Caretaker lived was only another block away. Whumpee pressed the button for Caretaker’s apartment.

The ancient speaker above the list of tenants and buttons crackled. “It’s two a.m., asshole!” Caretaker snapped blearily. “You got the wrong place.”

“Caretaker?” Whumpee mumbled, leaning heavily against the wall.

A beat of silence. “Whumpee?!” Caretaker shouted, the cry immediately followed by a thump. The speaker crackled again. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

Whumpee couldn’t tell if they were angry or joyful. “I…” they hesitated for a heartbeat before shoving past their doubts. “I need your help. I… I didn’t… I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

The door clicked as it unlocked. “I’llberightdowndon’tgoanywhereplease!” Caretaker instructed, words moving so quickly that Whumpee barely understood them. The speaker crackled again before turning off. They stared at it before easing open the door and slipping into the lobby.

It was only sheer force of will that kept Whumpee upright at all. They would’ve collapsed long ago otherwise. But as they waited for Caretaker, their energy drained away like water in a leaky bucket, and they couldn’t stand any longer.

Caretaker rushed down the last flight of stairs to find them collapsed to the ground, still conscious but rapidly fading. “Oh hell,” they muttered before sprinting to Whumpee’s side. “What the hell happened to you? We—we need to get you an ambulance!”

“N—no…” Whumpee mumbled. They were… so tired. Their eyelids were as heavy as rocks. “You… you can’t… call the hos…hospital. They’ll… they’ll find me… and take me away….”

Caretaker’s eyes widened in horror. “What?!” 

“Please…” Whumpee begged, the edges of their vision darkening, “please… don’t let them… please….”

If Caretaker responded, they weren’t conscious long enough to hear it.

[superalk]

Febuwhump 2025 - Day 1 - Vocal Cords

A fierce, shredding pain awoke Eli from rest, but she was so pleased to no longer have a muzzle strapped to her face that she was not as distressed as she would have otherwise been to discover that someone had cut her throat while she slept.

"On position, V1."

Even as Eli traced her fingers over the gory, partially healed wound in her throat, she was pulling her legs under her and rising from her spot on the floor where she'd passed out. Her entire torso was tacky with drying or dried blood, but she had been here long enough that they'd actually been feeding her somewhat routinely, which meant that she was also healing from injuries at a fairly regular rate. The feeding and its resultant healing was of course predicated upon her following her captors' rules. She had not lost enough blood that she could not balance herself on her knees, and she quickly clasped her hands behind her back.

"Do you know where you are?" The voice over the speaker was not the generic, technologically-modified voice that had awoken her, but a woman's warm, rich tones, complete with an accent like the King's English, much like Eli's accent, if much more modern.

Eli considered the cell with curiosity at the question. This cell was much wider than the last cell she'd been in, and lacked any iron bars that she could see, encased in glass that Eli could just make out from a faint reflection. Eli flexed her wrists and ankles and then noticed the lack of iron shackles. She didn't even consider answering the question.

"Speak when spoken to, where are you V1?" The warmth had left the woman's voice; Dr. Keswick never missed an opportunity to remind Eli of her rules here at the facility.

"Somewhere new," Eli tried to answer, but her voice came out a rasping croak. It wasn't her throat that had been cut, it was her vocal cords. Eli gritted her teeth and gripped her wrists tightly behind her back, riding out the hot flash of temper at Keswick's plan. Cut Eli's vocal cords, order her to speak and --

As if on cue, a light flashed from above her. Eli flinched, hissing involuntarily at the searing pain that erupted across her skin at the light. She had done this too often, however, to permit the fear or pain to shift her from her position.

The light held for several long seconds before shutting off again. "Speak when spoken to V1. Now hold position."

Eli flinched as more lighting ignited, but this was no longer the burning punishment of the UV lamp, but instead ordinary fluorescent lighting. Eli was no longer alone in a concrete tomb. She spotted two other cells across from her and got a sense of a cell to her right before an unfamiliar mortal stood right before the clear wall of her cell.

Tall, willowy, a plait of long golden hair down her back, sharp golden brown eyes; a striking mortal woman in a lab coat watched Eli steadily, a small black metal device in one hand.

"I am Dr. Adelaide Provencher," the woman said, her voice as warm and pleasant as her appearance. Her accent was French, Eli guessed, and she had graceful pianist fingers that swiped and pressed on the slate-like device in her hand. "I am a Hematologist and Hyperbiology expert, as well as the chief scientist here on Floor 2." Distress flickered across Provencher's face, and Eli flinched involuntarily at the woman's flurry of swearing in French, waiting for the lamp...

Instead, venom flooded Eli's mouth involuntarily and a half-second later, there was the 'clinking' sound of solid glass on glass.

"Please, it is the very least I can do." Dr. Provencher's voice was much more steady, and Eli risked a glance around her cell for the source of the sound.

A bank-like drawer had opened in one wall of her cell, and something cylindrical and solid with a mouthwatering smell --

Eli locked her limbs in place, screwing her eyes closed and forcing the knowledge of what was in that syringe away.

This had been the worst part of Floor 1, the worst rule that Eli was in absolutely no hurry to revisit, <i>act not in haste</i> Eli forced her mind down, her senses away from her body's awareness, down into the icy safety of nothing but her limbs <i>on position</i> and waiting for permission to feed <i>the more you resist the more you will hurt</i> 

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Dr. Provencher's outburst was loud, clearly audible across the entire observation platform of the otherwise quiet Floor 2, but Eli hardly registered the sound.

<i>Never feed without permission</i>. Oh, Eli had learned that lesson far too well, Keswick and her trials and experiments and that lamp, <i>the lamp</i>, it was all Eli could do to keep her limbs in place and continue to fight against every impulse as each cropped up, reminding her --

"You may feed, V1." That voice was not Keswick's and did not register at all at that moment. Eli's starving, wounded body reacted only to the conditioned phrase of permission. She was off the ground less than a half second after the command ended; she was at the drawer less than a full second had passed.  Eli could not force her body to wait the time it would take her clumsy fingers to open the carefully sealed glass vial, so she instead put the vial in her mouth and burst the glass with her teeth.

The cuts from the glass were inconsequential compared to the rich blood that flooded Eli's system, and she doubled over as she felt it go to work on the wounds in her neck.

"We are scientists, not torturers from the 13th century." Dr. Provencher's rapid-fire French retort was a dart of derision in the still air as Eli slowly returned to present awareness.

As the wound in her neck slowly mended, Eli regained her characteristic acuity of senses. The glass barrier of her cell was also a mixture of a wide variety of plastic polymers that Eli had no name for, but nonetheless produced distinct scents from one another, as well as a fine mixture of silver within the wall itself.

Eli snorted, taking an involuntary step away from the wall. Contrary to the popular opinion of mortal media, not all of Eli's cousins were averse to silver. Eli, however, was a fact that Keswick had known about Eli from the outset and used to great effect on a wide range of shackles, muzzles, and other restraints made with silver alloy. Despite her misgivings, Eli had to admit that making an entire clear wall from a silver mixture was impressive.

"I apologize for that." Dr. Provencher's words sounded like they came through gritted teeth. "As I said, I am the lead haemotologist and biologist here on Floor 2."

Eli was confused for a split second, before she realized that Provencher spoke to her. Eli touched her throat and found that while there was still significant scarring, her vocal cords and the musculature of her throat had mostly been restored. Provencher was staring at her, and Eli flinched involuntarily, tracking her thoughts backwards, unsure what she'd been asked that she hadn't yet addressed (<i>speak when spoken to</i>).

Provencher had brown eyebrows to go with her hair, and they were crinkled in confusion as she and Eli stared at one another. As long seconds passed, it occurred to Eli to wonder how long it had been since she'd had a conversation with anyone. She had been receiving conditioning and orders from Keswick and her staff, but for how long? How long had it been since she'd been abducted from her apartment?

"<i>Putain</i>Keswick," left Provencher's mouth before she forced a long exhale from her lips. "You may speak. I'll be leading your care here, and before I let you rest, I'd like to ask what you like to be called?"

Eli noticed that a strand of hair had freed itself from Provencher's plait and lay just on the top of the woman's ear, and only realized after Provencher's speaking began and ceased that perhaps a response of some kind was required? Eli winced and brought her attention back to the woman's face.

"What shall I call you? V1 is hardly your name."  Provencher's expression was kind, her tone dismissive of Eli's designation.

Eli flinched as her body involuntarily recalled the Floor 1 conditioning -- <i>speak when spoken to</i> the hot kiss of the UV lamp, the burning silver shackles, unable to move and get away</i> the more you resist the more you will hurt</i>  burning silver muzzle strapped to her head, leaving burns and charred skin at every point of contact. <i>obey all commands given</i>

"Eli," Eli whispered, cringing away from the expected flash of the lamp...which never came.

"<i>Putain de bordel de merde</i>" Provencher muttered, and the combination of the ethereally beautiful mortal and the utterly common language caused an involuntary snort of laughter to escape Eli. 

Provencher's gasp of surprise was perfectly audible, and Eli flinched, her muscles tensing involuntarily... but no flash of lamp accompanied her speaking without permission.

"I didn't know you could speak French." Provencher's wry comment was quiet and thoughtful.

Eli risked a glance up to see that the mortal woman was smiling slightly. Eli smiled back, an involuntary response to a pretty mortal smiling at her.

And then something within Eli, long dormant, unfurled itself like a matron snapping her fan at a luncheon to tell her charge that she spoke out of turn. "They were much more interested in impressing upon me the importance of their rules." The retort was in French, and was the longest string of words Eli had spoken since her arrival.

Eli's body flinched involuntarily, anticipating the lamp -- but no reprisal was forthcoming.

Provencher nodded, her eyes tightening at the corners.

The same spark from before -- Eli's long-dormant real personality -- returned. "Elinor, Eli. My name's Eli Coleman." The introduction was in French, a language Eli had not spoken for over 60 years.

Provencher's eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded back. "You must then call me Adelaide," she whispered in the same language. "Truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Eli." Read on my AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/62668408/chapters/160425826

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 3

3. (Jan 05-06) Used as bait / Stumbling / "This is gonna hurt"

cw medical whump, experiment whumpee, drugging/sedatives, implied kidnapping 

Whumpee groaned, blinking against the bright lights overhead. There was a searing pain behind their eyes and the rest of their body felt weighed down like they were made of molasses, slowly dripping into the ground. They tried to sit up but a hand on their chest pushed them back down. 

“Shh, don’t try to move,” a gentle voice said. “You’ve got some nasty wounds from that fight back there.” 

A figure moved into their vision, shadow blocking the light. Whumpee couldn’t see what they looked like, but the voice was unfamiliar. “Who’re you?” they asked, tongue heavy in their mouth. “You’re not Medic…” 

The stranger’s hand pushed Whumpee’s hair away from their face, skin covered by a latex glove. “You don’t need them, okay? I’m going to help you.” 

Whumpee attempted to move again, but the world bobbed around them like they were floating underwater. “D’j’you drug me?” they slurred. 

“Just a mild sedative,” the stranger replied with a chuckle. “I can’t have you struggling too much. Now relax, I’m a doctor.” 

Whumpee frowned. “I don’ think you are.” 

“Well, not yet. Technically,” the stranger said with a huff. “But how am I supposed to make it through med school if I can’t practice?” 

A jolt of fear went through Whumpee when the light glinted off a scalpel. “W-wait…” 

The stranger pushed Whumpee down when they started to struggle again. “Uh-uh, hold still or I'll give you more of the sedative,” they chastised. “And you might want to close your eyes—this is gonna hurt.” 

[mintflavouredwhump]

A whumper who has the captured whumpee pinned to the wall like a preserved butterfly specimen. Giant sewing pins pierce into their limbs and torso, staining their clothes with fresh blood every time they struggle to break free. It doesn't help that the whumper keeps telling them how pretty they look all pinned up.

[urlocalwhumper]

scientist caretaker finally gets a job at some obscure lab they've never heard of. maybe a bit worrying, but whatever, they're fresh out of school and need the job. their boss is also concerningly vague about what exactly they'll be doing, but once again, they need the job.

once they're all settled in, their boss takes them down to the testing chamber. caretaker is expecting to be experimenting on something like rats or bugs, but their boss flicks on the lights and oh my fucking god that is a whole ass living person

[willowthewhump]

"Your only job right now is to stay awake. And more importantly, stay silent."

Those were the last words Whumpee heard before his life was over. Before the normally subtle drip, drip, dripping of his IV began to pound in his ears. Before he lost his arm, and fuck, his arm-

Drip.

It hurt like hell. No, not even hell could compare to this. She'd said she was testing for something, but all he felt like was an innocent little butterfly being toyed with for some kid's scrapbook. Strapped down on her stupid little operating table with all her tools centered in his vision. That is, if he decided to look. But how could he look away? God, it was almost like he was being sawed into. Whumper had to be doing this on purpose.

Drip.

It was a little too late to focus on his feelings, though. Not like he could scream even if he needed to wanted to. He could feel it itching at the back of his throat, trying to crawl its way out of his larynx. He was going to break, it was too much, he just can't-

Drip.

He woke with a start. As he fully sat up, he noticed a few things. A backache, for one, and the irritation in his throat. He was either talking in his sleep or he screamed again. Probably both. Whumpee's arm was throbbing, down from his shoulder to his hand, neither of which he owned anymore. Substituted with some shoddy fucking replacement.

Then, a knocking sound.

"Mm..." He groaned. That should suffice a response, he really didn't feel like going through the whole 'are you okay' charade again. It was exhausting. Not after this nightmare..Not after this one, he couldn't.

"Another nightmare?" Caretaker asked, a little too awake for passed midnight. They definitely hadn't been to sleep, Whumpee gathered. At least their being awake wasn't something he had to apologize for.

"Can we even really call them nightmares anymore? I think when it gets to screaming they just call 'em night terrors."

"...Are you alright?"

As the bags under his eyes bwcame apparent in the room as Caretaker's eyes finally adjusted to the windowless room, Whumpee spoke.

"I don't think you want my answer to that question."

[starryybrained]

To strip back the flesh

CWs: Lab whump, experiment whumpee, clinical/detached whumper, surgical procedure/operation, vivisection, drugging/sedation (whumpee is conscious for the procedure though), non-con body modification (past), non-con touch, bodily fluids, body horror

Saul wakes up to an unfamiliar experience … being dissected alive. After all, there’s more than meets the eye with his body now.

———

Everything feels… floaty. Too light to be real. Dizzy and fuzzy and… and…

Saul shudders, lifting a heavy hand to his face. …What’s happening again?

He can hear someone’s voice, someone who reassures him, tells him it’ll be fine, but he doesn’t really believe that, not as the world sways and blurs. Another voice tells the first to leave, and he can feel something take his wrist and set it back at his side. He protests, murmuring something too muddled to understand; slurring the words into a mush of butchered gibberish.

The second voice has a face, blue and purple and orange, and honestly, that’s just too many colors, he thinks — she reminds him of ice; her sharp gaze trained on his body.

V… She’s V. He remembers. …He thinks. Val…

Val reaches for something he can’t see. He asks what she’s doing — but she obviously can’t understand.

“Enunciate,” she says, holding a… an object, something he can’t name… to his skin.

He tries. “..Dunno your… ff,,fancy words, V.”

“Hm.” She says, her voice noncommittal to anything he says. She busies herself in feeling up his chest area, tracing the outline of the… thing in his body. He gasps.

“Wha- at —”

He now realizes he’s not wearing a shirt.

“Shh.” Val checks the accuracy of her tool’s placement, then takes the instrument and cuts through the blackened, thin membrane of the core. Fluid leaks out, and Saul can feel the ugly, wet mess trickle onto him, spilling over his sides.

He can’t speak. The only sound that comes out of his mouth is a choked-back gag.

Val eases her fingers into the gap, pulling the skin back and pinning it down.

Another kind of fluid drips down Saul’s cheeks.

“No.. no- o, stop…” He begs.

Val doesn’t pay any mind to him. She plunges her hands deep into the gaping hole she’s created, probing his innards, the sensation of her gloved hands on his organs so oddly clinical, yet sickeningly intimate.

He swears his insides are literally twisting in disgust; but maybe that’s just Val pulling his intestines out of the gap and examining them, spreading more ooze and viscera across the trembling expanse of his flesh.

She makes notes on his condition, writing as if there isn’t a living, breathing person next to her, cut open and wailing, writhing — Val checks boxes and makes tick marks, filling in something that he doesn’t care about but means so much more to her than his pain.

He doesn’t even hurt that much, he’s too far away, but still too close — or maybe she’s too close, hands on his organs, pulling them out… revealing more organs, more lungs and heart and tangled up meat, hidden bones jutting through the cavity Val made that become revealed with every unwelcome touch.

Saul begs her, pleads for her to stop, drowning in a haze of confusion and inner turmoil, panic rising with every breath he takes. The intrusion of Val’s hands on his entrails is like an infection, crawling into every crevice there ever was in his body, squirming under his skin and becoming like a living thing, a parasite —

“He really does live on inside of you,” she remarks, and Saul doesn’t try to parse the meaning of her sentiment. He doesn’t want to know.

“He hasn’t woken up yet, however…” She continues. “Shame.

“There’s not much of a timeframe for this.” Val offers, as if to comfort him for being a late bloomer instead of an artificially made monstrosity.

“…But I can accelerate the process.”

- - - -

He wakes up, a gap in his mind, and he’s still fuzzy but he knows something happened, and his body is sealed together again and…

Wait.

This body…

It’s not his.

[inkwell-and-dagger]

Escape

art is from this little drabble I made last night!! I love ruaridh so much they're so skrunkly

UARAD Taglist: @creppersfunpalooza @toyybox @whumpy-wyrms @vidawhump