#guide dog whumpee

[bloodybloody]

Blind whumper and the guide dog whumpee

When they first meet, the whumpee finds out that they are blind, so they stay very still, hold their breath, and hope that the whumper can't find them. But they are tied up, so they couldn't go too far, and thus whumper finds them anyway.

Whumper checks up on whumpee with their bare hands to comprehend whumpee's physical characteristics. They slide their fingers into cuts and press over wounds to understand how healed they are by analyzing the structure of them and the whumpee's reactions. But poor whumpee doesn't know how to handle being touched and gets frustrated every time the whumper interacts with them.

Whumper asks for whumpee's guidance to hurt them in specific places and dare the whumpee to mislead them. Who knows where the next cut will be if whumpee tries to trick them<3

Ohh nooooo, the medications were not labeled properly, and whumpee's conditions are getting worse day by day because of the false treatment :3

DEHUMANISATIONAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!?! Put a muzzle and a leash on them, feed them dog food, and wash them in the backyard with a garden hose. Don't let them talk; they can bark to warn the whumper about the obstacles around them.

And finally, when the training is done and our doggy dog is faithful enough to go outside, they can lead the whumper in public on their four feet.

[cyberwhumper]

The following is excerpted from an unclassified internal memo recovered from the office of [REDACTED], COO of PolyPaws, October 11, 20XX.

INCOMING: [eat your young]

Mr. [REDACTED]—

        Here’s the response from the breeder about the behavioral issues. Whole lot of PR bullshit, in my opinion. It’s a dog, not a hamster. Let me know where you want to go from here on this. —Richard

        …crucial to remember that they are not human. They are the result of years of dedicated, concerted effort to craft a lifeform distinctly non-human, and as such, beyond the scope of rights afforded to both humans and animals. Innovation outstrips legislation, emerging markets necessitate innovation, and Kalavinka breeds the best. This guide will include helpful tips and tricks for the care and keeping of your biopet, as well as for you operating in those margins.

        Your biopet may demonstrate behaviors that are surprising, particularly in the realm of hygiene, communication, and feeding. This is normal. We understand that these behaviors may be perceived as disturbing, to which we encourage you to refer once again to the previous paragraph: they are not human. It may be disorienting to witness a seemingly human body engaged in activities such as self-grooming or coprophagia, especially if the animal is not physiologically fully equipped to indulge its instincts. We recommended training with any of our licensed conditioning partners in order to curtail these undesirable behaviors.

OUTGOING: [reply: eat your young]

Pathetic. Redirect to Legal; figure we can bankrupt them by Tuesday. As for the animal, I want you to take point rehabbing. Signed, [REDACTED].

[Fic by the exceptionally talented @bxtterflystxtches , who I have the honor of collaborating with for this event. Please show him some love!]

[OC INDEX]

COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!

Tag list: @whumpsday // @demondamage // @squidlife-crisis // @whumpedydump // @cyborg0109 // @whumpfish // @astrowhump // @the-scrapegoat // @whatwhumpcomments // @dustbunnywhump // @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question // @dokidokisadness // @moss-tombstone // @lambofmine // @maracujatangerine // @pinkraindropsfell // @writereleaserepeat // @blood-and-regrets // @littlespacecastle // @snakebites-and-ink // @unforgiven235 // @lonesome--hunter // @atomicsandwichprince // @writereleaserepeat // @whatamidoingherehelpme // @skittles-the-whumpee // @the-blind-one-speaks // @i-eat-worlds // @devourerofcheesecake // @theauthorintraining // @otterfrost // @mommymarichatfurever // @whumpifi // @catnykit // @bitchaknso // @softmutt444 // @yet-another-heathen // @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat // @burnticedlatte // @violent-ultraviolet // @limitlesstrash17 // @inspiral-rl // @coyotehusk // @mis-graves // @caffeinatedscorpio // @defire // @badluck990 // @unforgivenn //

If you’re interested in being added to the tag list, please let me know!

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Surrender An Ask Game! - "Dreadful Meetings"

CW: dehumanization, captivity, implied past torture.

Heheheehe, this has been quite fun! Hope you all enjoy what I cooked up! <33

Ask game made by: @epiclamer & @save-the-villainous-cat

What is the game about?

~~~~

Ask submitted by @livingforthewhump

Prompt: "This is hyper specific, and probably doesn’t make much sense, but imagine Whumpee was originally part of a team, before Whumper took them. Maybe a few months pass, and Whumper has a meeting with their team Leader over something completely unrelated. 

Maybe this is a league of Villains bargaining with a League of Heroes or something. Whumpee is leashed and collared with a muzzle over their face, kneeling at Whumper’s side. At some point, the meeting turns ugly, with Leader being (understandably) distressed seeing Whumpee in such a state, and starts threatening Whumper. At which point the Whumpee starts 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 at their former team leader.

Whether they’re genuinely so far gone that they see themself as less than human, making animal noises, or they’re trying to speak through the muzzle is irrelevant. Both parties are in shock. Whumper is delighted, and 100% rubs it in team Leader’s face, but team Leader suddenly loses their will to fight.

Bonus points if the Whumpee is quite big and muscular.”

~~~~~~~~

The door swung open with a soft creak as Leader entered the room. They stood tall, chin held high with a perfectly blank expression in the face of their enemy. The villain greeted them with an equally blank facade, shaking hands before guiding them to a pair of chairs.

Even before the leader got a chance to sit down, they noticed the third presence in the room... and promptly ignored it. Their heart couldn’t handle seeing yet another person suffering. With so much already weighing on their shoulders, they paid the stranger no mind.

Villain would fall soon enough. They just had to push through. Just push through…

The two foes quickly plunged into conversation, discussing the Hero League’s most recent offer. It was important... and yet sounded more and more like mindless buzzing to Leader’s ears the longer it went on.

They spoke their piece expertly, doing their best to convince the villain to agree, but their focus kept drifting away. The leader’s eyes couldn’t help but glance at the unfortunate soul kneeling by Villain’s feet.

Despite their attempts at doing otherwise, Leader studied the stranger closer. Their muscular body - clearly fit and powerful - was covered by shaggy rags with a thick, leather muzzle covering half of their face.

“A guard dog…” the leader surmised in their head. “Dear god, they have so many scars… What has this bastard put them through…?”

Anger boiled in Leader’s veins the longer they stared. To subject a fellow human to such horrors, such degradation, it’s… it’s…!

A cold dread washed over them for a split second. “It’s… Whumpee…?”

When those once shining eyes met theirs, the recognition of their lost teammate set Leader’s fury ablaze once more. In the short time they had frozen and stared at the whumpee, Villain noticed their realization.

With a knowing smirk, the criminal asked, “Do you like my pet? I trained it myself.”

The leader’s fists clenched hard enough to go numb, their teeth grinding together as they spoke. They whipped towards Villain with a fiery stare. “You…”

Jumping to their feet abruptly, Leader knocked the chair backwards in their rage and loomed over the enemy. “What have you done to them?!”

The villain, to their credit, appeared unfazed if not amused.

Their smug face only raised the leader’s anger to levels they had never thought possible. “I swear, if you don’t release them at once–” Leader began their threat, but the moment they took a step forward, their words fell silent when a growling sound filled the air.

Surprised, their head snapped to the source of it, finding nothing but the whumpee.

Their lost teammate was staring at them with wide eyes, snarling like the rabid dog they had been degraded to. Every muscle in their body was suddenly taut, ready to spring forward should their master be endangered.

That was why Villain had never bothered to stand; they had no need to.

The coldness in Leader’s chest came back tenfold, suffocating whatever fight had just been there. They… didn’t know what to do.

Luckily for them, once the villain had gotten their fill of causing anguish, they chirped, “I’d advise you to sit back down, Leader. I’m willing to overlook this little… tantrum of yours and get back to business.”

Tantrum. Tantrum…

Villain’s lips had twitched with such vile amusement at the word. Leader didn’t want to “get back to business”! They wanted to grab Whumpee and get the hell out of there! Their teammate was right there!

But alas… they couldn’t.

Whatever remained of the whumpee they knew, so feral and destroyed, drove them to a feeling of defeat. They fell back into their chair.

The growling stopped, and Whumpee spared them no second glance.

Villain’s smile only grew as Leader’s soul cracked into ever-tinier pieces. The anger was gone, replaced with a shameful exhaustion they couldn’t bring themself to oppose.

The meeting continued, but Leader barely paid the words any mind. Their thoughts raced, relentlessly bashing their psyche with a mental crowbar.

“How could I have failed so horribly? Do I… even deserve to be called a leader?”

[whumpsoda]

Old Photos

Kinda short but like I have had no good ideas lately :( it makes me sad cause I wanna write!!! i have been messing with a pet whump story idea though so idk if it will go anywhere but we will see!!!

cw: dehumanization, conditioning, minor descriptions of captivity ———————————————————————

“I just love photo albums, don’t you pet?” Affectionate, adoring, blank eyes stared back.

“I know you used to like taking pictures, didn't ‘cha? With your little human camera?” The words simply filtered through pet’s head. Cameras were human things, he knew that. Human things had no meaning to him. “Oh, look at him.” Whumper eagerly tilted the pristine photo album down to Whumpee’s level.

Whumpee’s eyes met with those in the carefully placed pictures. The ones he saw were absolutely terrified, and so was the man they belonged to. The man was noticeably muscular, but looked so small on his knees. Similar to most of the people in the photos Whumper kept, this man was tied up and close to naked, covered in crusty blood.

In response, Whumpee gently drooped his tired eyes and rested his head onto Whumper’s knee. His own knees rubbed into the fuzzy carpet. That’s how he was meant to be, on the floor below his owner. 

Just like a good dog.

“This puppy, he was so fiesty way back when, in the beginning. Wanted nothing to do with me, even after I rescued him.” Whumper pointed to several photos on the page, guiding Whumpee’s eyes with his thick finger.

Whumpee’s eyes glazed over the glistening photos, letting them disappear into his empty head. If it wasn’t a command or praise, it did not matter to a pet. 

“Fought me all the time, darling. Hit, kicked, bit me a few times. All because I was giving him a better life. Such an ungrateful brat, wasn’t he, pet?” Whumpee gracefully tilted his head to meet Whumper’s eyes, adoration enveloped in both pairs. Whumpee whined, pushing his cheek firther into the touch of Whumper’s knee. 

Whumpee knew master did not deserve that treatment. Whatever pet master spoke of, the bad one, whumpee could be better. Whumpee was better. He was such a good dog, Master told him all the time! The two loved each other so very much, and they would relish in that mutual affection for the rest of their lives.

“You’re so much better, I know, Pet. Such a good boy, aren’t you?” Whumper reached down a large, rough hand, and scratched under Whumpee’s chin. A pleased smile filled Whumpee’s scarred face. 

Whumper’s hand swiftly slipped out soon after. “But look at him,” He commandingly pushed the album even closer to Whumpee’s face. “Even when being a stupid puppy, wasn’t he still adorable?”

 Whumpee’s face instantly fell. What if master liked the bad pet more than him? What if he wasn’t good enough anymore? Had he been bad that day? Whumpee nuzzled impossibly closer, his saccharine encompassed, doe eyes pleading with Whumper.

Please, please, don’t get rid of me!

Whumper let out a deep, gleeful chuckle, setting his hand now on top of Whumpee’s head. “I still love you more, pet, of course I do. Even if he was cute, an obedient puppy will always be much cuter.” Whumper’s fingers grazed upon Whumpee’s grimy, greasy hair, the touch sending a wave of pleasure and relief throughout Whumpee’s body.

“Isn’t there anything you want to say about the pictures though, pet? Don’t you remember that scared little dog?” For a moment, Whumpee disregarded the insignificant words. They both knew dogs did not have opinions, and did not partake in conversation like humans did. Even so, he locked his eyes onto the pictures, studying them intently. Something about these specific pictures caught his eye. They were special. The photos were familiar, vaguely, he was aware had seen them before, even if he had no recollection of when.

Whumper loved gazing at his massive photo collections so often Whumpee couldn’t recall a single other pet he had ever laid eyes upon. There were much to many for him to remember, so after to long he had simply stopped caring to. This specific pet though, the look on his face sent a shiver seeping through Whumpee’s frail body.

Whumpee instinctively disregarded his thoughts, shoving them to a place where they could not reach him. He was not meant to think, and every so often he would foolishly forget it. Thinking was for humans, and so it was obviously only something a bad pet would do.

Whumpee was not a bad pet.

He continued to hug his body against the warm flesh of his master’s, adding to the comfort of feeling his mind wash away. Whumper sighed approvingly. “You’re such a wonderful puppy.” He turned the eye-strainingly colorful album back to himself, gazing tenderly into the terrified faces displayed in the decorated pictures.

After a content moment, Whumper met with Whumpee’s eyes once again. Whumper looked at him so kindly, his eyes so full of love, and Whumpee craved the blissful feeling it sent through him.

 “I’m so proud of how far you’ve come. It seems almost like yesterday I took these beautiful photos of you, my most prized puppy.”

[whumpurr]

part 26

cw: pet whump, male whumpee, torture (sleep deprivation), animal death

masterlist

Sawdust shook and shivered as he stood back up. He could only manage to get back up onto four paws, not two like how Master Adrien wanted him. His leg was still bleeding, but the wound must not have been too deep because he could move it and put weight on it more and more as the shock wore off. The man supported Sawdust by holding onto his arm once Sawdust decided to clamber up onto two legs. Trying to walk on his four paws through the forest wasn’t comfortable, nor was it fast enough to keep up with the man.

--

The ‘camp’ that the man was talking about came into view. Sawdust saw the light from it before he saw the camp itself. A fire cast an orange light onto the nearby trees, it danced and flickered around the rough bark. Sawdust didn’t remember if he had ever been around a real fire before. It was always regarded as something scary, something that his old master used to light his cigarettes, which always led to him putting them out on either Sawdust or one of the other dogs. Though Sawdust was cold enough that he was willing to face his fear and get closer to the fire as the man brought him up to the camp.

The camp sat on a little mound, just slightly elevating it from the rest of the surrounding woods. The man had a tent set up, and a campfire with a folding chair next to it. The man sat Sawdust down in the chair, and used a bottle of water to rinse off the blood on Sawdust’s leg. The gash wasn’t horribly big, Sawdust had definitely experienced worse from the other dogs, but it still hurt. It bled a lot, but once the water washed away the blood, Sawdust was relieved to see that the cut itself was only a few inches long and not incredibly deep. The man pushed white cotton balls to the cut and wrapped a stretchy bandage around Sawdust’s leg.

“You can take the tent.” The man grumbled. He tossed his gun to the side and went to a giant bag that was sitting next to his tent. He pulled out something and started tying it up to two tree trunks. “I’ve got a hammock.”

Sawdust blinked at him with big eyes, his view flicking between the man and the fire. Inch by inch, Sawdust scooted closer and closer to the fire until it was warming his body. He hadn’t realized he was trembling until it finally stopped. 

Sawdust finally got a good look at the man now that he was sitting by the fire while he set up the hammock. He was tall and skinny, skinnier than Master Adrien. He had pale skin, though not as pale as Sawdust’s, and the beginnings of a beard. He wore a brightly colored vest and heavy boots. His eyes sunk into his head, his teeth were crooked.

“You can call me Rick.” The man said. Sawdust blinked a few times.

“My owners call me Sawdust.” He tried really hard to not slip up while speaking. 

At the mention of ‘owners’, Rick gave Sawdust a look, one that Sawdust didn’t understand. It wasn’t the way that Master Adrien or Ma’am, or even his old master, had ever looked at him. Master Adrien looked at Sawdust as though he felt bad for him, Ma’am looked at him like he was a cute animal, his old master looked at him with disgust. Sawdust didn’t understand Rick’s glance.

“You’re one of those pets.” Rick said. Sawdust remained quiet and Rick spoke again. “I was out hunting. I tend to hunt, then camp for a bit before going back in.”

Sawdust gave a small grunt and a nod, letting his rescuer know that he had heard him. Rick opened his mouth, then seemed to hesitate. That filled Sawdust with dread, the hesitation. Whenever a human didn’t know what to do, it meant that Sawdust was being a problem. A burden. When humans were confident, Sawdust was comfortable, even if it meant that a punishment was coming. Sawdust was a dumb dog, and never knew what to do, so he needed a human to guide him. The failure of this little expedition was all the more reason that Sawdust shouldn’t be trusted on his own. 

“What were you doing out here at this hour? Gettin’ attacked by mountain lions?” Rick asked. Sawdust felt ashamed, but he wasn’t about to lie to the man who had saved him.

“My master and I got captured…” Sawdust said sadly, looking down at his paws. “The lady isn’t nice, and she’s bad to my master. I thought if I showed her that I was good at being in the wild and taking c-care of myself that she would be nicer to my master, if I was less of a burden.” The further he got into his explanation, the slower his words came out. He had to force it out, make himself continue speaking.

Rick stayed quiet for a while. Sawdust didn’t understand why.

“I’m gonna need to take you back to your home tomorrow. I’ve gotta go back into town tomorrow morning so I can take you to wherever you’re comin’ from.” 

“I only know the way back to that lady’s house…” Sawdust was on the verge of tears at the thought. He knew what was coming next.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t just take you home with me.” Rick sighed. “I can take you back to her house. At least you’ll be with people you know.”

“Please…” Sawdust whimpered. He hated begging, it meant that he was asking a human to do something they didn’t want to. He didn’t remember the last time he begged. “I- We need to run away. If you- if you can wait outside of her house, I can get my master and we can go. Please? Go with you back into town?”” Hot tears of frustration ran down Sawdust’s cheeks. He braced himself for a ‘no’. Rick would drive him back to Ma’am’s house, where he and Master Adrien would have to continue to be hers. Sawdust would have to live forever feeling sick seeing the way that Ma’am treated Master Adrien. 

“... Okay.” Rick muttered. “I can do that.”

--

taglist :@starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @neuro-whump @whump-me-all-night-long @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpzone @whumpcreations @dancinglifeboat @pinkraindropsfell @looptheloup @cowboy-anon @meetmeinhellcroutons @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine @it-will-all-whump-out @theydy-cringeworthy @kim-poce @bluetheautisticrat @whump-in-progress @wh-wh-whu @mylifeisonthebookshelf @grizzlie70 @wolfeyedwitch @nicolepascaline @melancholy-in-the-morning @jumbledbyrd @batfacedliar-yetagain @no-terms-and-conditions-apply @scp-1269 @whumpdreamz @bees-among-the-okami @taterswhump

[re-whump]

Augusnippets Day 11 - Escape

cw: pet whump (not any particular universe), multiple whumpees, physical abuse mention

Something was happening. She had never seen that door open. She hadn’t ever thought much of it, just one of the many things on the property she was not supposed to touch.

She looked over her shoulder for the master, but he was nowhere nearby, so she crept forward to look out at where it led. As soon as her head passed over the threshold, she heard the master’s shrieking. She staggered backwards as if shocked, horrified at the realization that this may have been a test and she may have failed it.

Two figures thundered down the stairwell at the end of the hallway and froze when they saw her there. She knew one of them. Her fellow pet. The prized show dog to her own role as the guard dog. Her lesser. He wilted at the sight of her, cowering behind the stranger and with a slight whimper.

She fell naturally into a defensive stance as she sized up the stranger. They were a head taller than she was, possibly armed. But their eyes were hesitant and emotional. They gave the other pet and an encouraging, affectionate rub on the shoulder. Her eyes narrowed as the master drew closer and called her name.

“Stop them! Where are you, dammit, stop them!” he shouted.

She and the stranger locked eyes.

“That’s not yours,” she said levelly.

The stranger held out their hands as if in surrender—no, they were faced the wrong way for that—in offering. They stepped closer to the door, guiding the fool along behind them.

“He shouldn’t belong to anyone,” the stranger said, eyes sparkling. “And neither should you.”

“She won’t, she won’t understand, she’s not—she’s been here too long,” the other pet blubbered.

Her lip curled in disgust. What did he know about her? She knew obedience was the best way to avoid a beating and beating someone else was the most cathartic way to obey. He was pathetic.

The master stormed down the stairs.

But she’d never seen this door open. She’d never seen anyone make it this far onto the property without getting shot. It could be her best chance.

She held the door as they all ran through. It wasn’t over yet, she knew, but this was farther than she’d ever gotten alone.

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump day 7: Made to Watch

“We have a wide variety of pets to choose from, so I’m sure we’ll have something that’ll interest you.”

Caretaker nodded along distractedly, too focused with schooling their expression into one of mild curiosity rather than the disgust they truly felt. One of Whumper’s lackeys walked swiftly ahead of them, showing off the rows of ‘pets’

The name made Caretaker sick. They were people, people of various ages and sizes, all trapped in far too small changes and forced to wear little more than rags and a collar. Some of them glared in defiance, tracking Caretaker’s every movement with their eyes. Some begged . Most simply looked away.

Caretaker wanted to save them all. Nobody deserves this. But they had to save Whumpee first, and so they had to play the role of a buyer. 

They forced themselves to turn towards their guide, plastering a polite smile onto their face. “Do you have any that’re fully trained? I don’t care to do the dirty work myself,” The words hurt to say, each syllable a stab to their heart. They hated how they knew they’d lead to Whumpee.

The lackey nodded. They quickened their pace, leading Caretaker to a black door at the end of the hall. They quickly produced a key and unlocked it, ushering Caretaker inside.

The room was scarcely different from the hallway of cages. The cages were slightly larger, the people trapped inside slightly less worn looking. Each cage was fitted with a dog bed. Caretaker hated that being able to stretch your spine without hitting the roof of a cage was a luxury here.

Caretaker turned and froze. Sat in a cell between two other prisoners was Whumpee, sitting on their knees with their head bowed. They were here. They were here and alive and the sight filled Caretaker with both relief and sorrow.

Whumpee had spent years unlearning everything these monsters had forced on them. They’d been getting better. They’d begun to speak up for themselves, to feel like they deserved the same respect and care as anyone else. They’d come to trust Caretaker and love themselves. They’d spent so much time learning to be a person again, and Caretaker had been with them every step of the way.

And now they were back here. Back in a cell on their knees, back in the same position Caretaker had spent months telling them they didn’t need to take. Caretaker couldn’t see any of Whumpee’s playful snark or charm in that cell. They only saw the pet Whumper had forced them to be, sitting demurely until called upon.

The lackey noticed that they’d stopped. “That one? It’s very well behaved, all the pets in this region are.” They didn’t mention how they’d stolen Whumpee away, ambushing them in bed while nobody was around to help. They didn’t mention the bruised wrist that must’ve occurred during their capture. Maybe they assumed it was bad for business.

“Let them out.” They wouldn’t call Whumpee an it.

Without a word, the lackey unhooked the latch, allowing the door to swing open. Whumpee didn’t move, didn’t so much as flick their eyes upwards until the lackey gave a single sharp whistle. Upon the command, Whumpee unfolded themselves. With trained elegance, they pulled themselves out of the cage and stood before Caretaker. They didn’t raise their eyes.

Caretaker made a show of looking them over, feeling horribly like a shopper inspecting a piece of meat. They were dressed just as shabbily as all the others, though they were perhaps slightly cleaner. Their wrist and knees were bruised but, besides that, they seemed otherwise unharmed.The lackey reached behind Whumpee, pulling firmly at their hair to force them to look forward.

Whumper stared ahead, eyes dull and unrecognizing. For a long moment, Caretaker stared right back, searching for a hit of emotion on their face. There was none;  no recognition, no fear, no anger, simply submission. Caretaker almost wished their disguise was worse, that Whumpee could look beyond the dyed hair and makeup and see them underneath.

 Caretaker could help but shiver at the sudden thought that Whumpee might recognize them. Might know who they are and simply think they’d been betrayed.

They pushed the feeling down. They could fix that, if it were the case. They could fix everything once they got Whumpee out. “I’ll take them.”

[flailingfrog]

Nikole and Kit: Holly in the Parking Lot

TW : BBU/BBU-adjacent setting, dehumanization, conditioned whumpee, mentioned character death

-

She exits the office and descends the stairs as quickly as she can, fuming.

Holly’s promised she can drop by the house with her 8 am tomorrow morning, the same time Holly herself always stops by to check on Kit and the dog, guide the pet through daily needs she wouldn’t attend to if left on her own. She’ll get her the keys, and the house—The house is going to be a headache. All the packing and cleaning and eventual listing on the market—

Her mother’s boxbabe would be so much more useful if she were a Domestic.

The cold air of this joke of an early spring smacks her across her face as she pushes out of the building, stinging her cheeks. All she wants to do is pick her way across the parking lot, get in her car, get something greasy for dinner and go home, trying not to wonder if her ex husband is enforcing Alyvia’s limit on screen time.

Before she’s halfway across the cracked asphalt, cold already nipping through her coat, Holly’s voice is cracking on her name.

She shuts her eyes, takes in an inhale of bitter March air, and forces friendliness back to her features as she turns to her.

“Hey, Holly. Did you need something?” Holly’s hair’s frizzy today, and she’d take pleasure in it if she thought it bothered the other woman in the slightest. As it is, it adds to the growing agitation spidering up and down her arms.

Holly isn’t smiling at her as she joins her by the young trees daring to begin to bud new leaves.

Sometimes, Nikole forgets not everyone has had friendliness programmed into them from preschool. Holly’s not from Utah, but she never bothered to learn where she came from or when she moved. Her mom would’ve known. She ignores the way it hollows her out to think about.

“Yeah, I do. I need you to—” Whatever she was going to say—something foul based on her voice raising an octave—she smooths it away and decides to try instead, “Why did you agree?”

“Mom asked.”

Holly’s face is still threatening to revolt against her. “You know your mom wants you to take care of her, right? The way your mom takes—”

Nikole’s face would twist up that same way at a slip like that, but she doesn’t reach to comfort her, especially not with the air starting to tease her nose.

“Took care of her, not the way you feel she should be.”

She manages to keep her face pleasant as she says, “I’m aware.”

“And are you going to?”

Nikole gives her a look, just this side of teasing, because that’s what the question deserves.

Holly’s face twists.

Past the parking lot, large enough for everyone the four story building that houses her mother’s chosen attorney serves, evening traffic continues routinely.

“You didn’t have to take her,” Holly tells her.

Something twists in Nikole’s chest. She shoves her hands into her pockets instead of examining it, the chill laid into them prickling at the pockets’ warmth. “What, and let you handle it?”

“Yes? Is that so difficult for you?”

If she didn't know any better, she'd say her face is like she’s going through the grief of Nikole’s mom dying all over again. There's a reason she’s never understood Holly.

She scoffs instead of trying. “Trust me, I’m doing Kit a favor. The deterioration of her training… It can’t be good for her, either.”

“What would you even know about that?” Holly asks, not bothering to hide the challenge in it as she steps further into Nikole’s space. “You barely see her.”

She acts like Holly isn’t close enough she can feel her own heartbeat. “I see enough.” Anyone with eyes could see enough. You take Kit, you compare her to her friend’s Refurbs, to any of the friends she had whens he was still with Michael’s refurbs, and the difference is obvious. She knows that Platonics are meant to keep company, but Kit doesn’t treat her mother the way a boxbabe should. She acts more like she’s Nikole, and she’d never seen Kit ask permission for a single thing, not even at one of Alyvia’s birthday parties, and don’t get her started on how inappropriate that whole affair is to begin with.

She doesn’t need to be an expert.

Holly’s about to continue, but she cuts her off, voice as sweet as she can manage when she’s this aware of her heart and the news of her mother’s last parting act of stupidity is still reverberating through her. “I know you care about her, and I promise, I have everyone’s best intentions at heart.” She pauses, but not enough for Holly to speak. “I really need to be getting home, but if you need anything, you have my number. You can text me—Call me, even, if you really need to.” She manages that same sympathetic tone despite the circumstances.

Holly’s face scrunches, then fights to keep from staying that way, and Nikole feels her own smile tighten. But Holly doesn’t say anything, so Nikole lets herself turn around and leave, digging her car key out of her purse.

Its click as it unlocks is enough to ease the last tension from her. She slips in and locks the car, the outside world muffled if only until she gets to the drivethrough by a cocoon of pale leather and touchscreens connected to bluetooth.

She puts on Fleetwood Mac and pretends she doesn’t have to see Holly again tomorrow at her dead mother’s house.

-

@angst-after-dark

[staydandy]

Zoo (2015) - Whump List

List by StayDandy Synopsis : Violent animal attacks upon humans are occurring all over the world. Jackson Oz, an American zoologist and his Kenyan friend, Abraham Kenyatta, a safari guide, and Mitch Morgan, a quirky veterinary pathologist, seek to investigate the mysterious pandemic as the attacks become more coordinated and ferocious. (Wiki)

Whumpee : Jackson Oz played by James Wolk (top left) • Mitch Morgan played by Billy Burke (top right)

Country : 🇺🇸 America

Notes : This is a Partial List - I didn't list every bit of whump, just what caught my attention the most • The episode list is formatted season-episode : 00-00

Episodes on List : 8 Total Episodes : 39 Total Seasons : 3

*Spoilers below*

01-11 : (near end) Jackson is shot

01-12 : … continued from previous ep. ... while recouping, saves a few kids from a leopard

01-13 : Attacked & bit by dogs

02-01 : Realizes he is infected / has the mutation

02-07 : Experiencing side effects of his mutation.. They try a hallucinogenic therapy to bring back memories

03-03 : Mitch tells the girls to drill into his skull to remove a device that is controlling him

03-08 : Jackson is captured & tortured .. Mitch is still trying to deactivate the device in his head, electrocuted, temporary blind

03-09 : Mitch is under the control of the villain, knocks out Jackson

[cepheusgalaxy]

Runaway

This is my first prompt.

~I'm a writer but this is my first time writing in english. Hope you enjoy! I'm not posting more than this anyway~

The colors blurred in and out as the kid ran.

Whumpee couldn’t trust their eyes, they knew. That forest wasn’t normal. They couldn’t look for anything to guide them, either.

So they ran. Without looking back.

While that, Whumper, their master - no, their former master. They were out. Or at least close that - let out the guard dogs.

He wouldn’t let his petite little jewel run.

How silly of them, his little Whumpee, trying to run away in his own territory. Every single tree and rock was on his side. Whumpee couldn’t take a step without their master knowing. With a move of his finger, the forest could become a ruthless labyrinth with claws and thorns.

Whumpee knew that.

Yet, the kid ran.

[wren-l-winter]

“I remember when you used to fight,” Whumper mused against her ear. “Saying all those ugly words to me, lashing out like a snarling animal. And now…look at you. Sweet and timid like a little lap dog, perfect for bringing to parties.” 

Whumpee smiled, and found that she felt no need to force the corners of her eyes to crinkle. “We’ve grown since then.” 

Indeed they had. 

Whumpee's lover was gone. She had been the only inkling of normalcy Whumpee had in an endlessly shifting world. Her lover had run off like the words on damp paper, only leaving the smudges of her presence. Plans had shifted after that, or perhaps she had fallen into plans of another. Whumper had found her that night, sobbing at the gates of the palace. Her weathered touch had been kind, guiding Whumpee to a hot bath and untangling the wind-whipped mess that had been her hair. 

Whumpee had begun to see Whumper differently after that. Her lover had left a gaping, aching hole in Whumpee’s chest, one she was desperate to fill and Whumper was all too happy to nestle herself into that hollow space.

“Let’s not keep them waiting.” A hand at the small of back urged her forward. “I have a gift for you.”

Heavy doors groaned open. A symphony washed over the chattering of nobility. As the pair crossed the threshold, the ballroom quieted. No one dared to whisper as they watched them descend the steps. 

“Dearest,” Whumper said, loud enough for all to hear, “the pain you’ve suffered since your lover left has been a secret to none.” Heat blossomed across Whumpee’s cheeks. Her eyes widening as she felt the gazes around them sharpen—trying to tear at the gentle expression she plastered onto her face. “You have garnered my affection these past few months. For that, I wish to repay those that hurt you with a fitting punishment.”

The crowd murmured. Unease boiled in Whumpee's belly like soured fruit. “What have you done,” she asked, her words carried away by the murmuring of the crowd.

The old glint in Whumper's eye returned as though it had never left. It was the same as the night she’d forced her to watch as her home was burned, her parents still inside. Whumper nodded and a servant stepped forward, a velvet box in their hands. “For all the nights you cried her name while you slept,” she said, her breath warm against her cheek. 

Whumpee looked at her, their noses nearly touching. A challenge sang in Whumper's sweet, wicked gaze. Whumpee could not deny her, not without a cost. “Open it.” The servant held it toward her, peeling the top off. 

Hearts carved from delicate skin had been attached to earrings. A birthmark, the blurred shape of a crescent moon, forced Whumpee to her knees. People shoved to get closer, trying to peek at the gift without earning Whumper's wrath. “You skinned her.” Tears fell, hot and angry across her cheeks. 

Whumper leaned over her, a smile twisting itself across her lips like bramble. “You know better than most that all actions must be balanced with consequences.” She kissed the top of her head and murmured, “And I don’t like competition.”

“I remember when you used to fight. Saying all those ugly words to me, lashing out like a snarling animal. And now…look at you. Sweet and timid like a little lap dog, perfect for bringing to parties”

[whumpshaped]

OH I love the guard dog drabble!!! can I request a continuation or something from the whumpee‘s pov? I wanna see their conditioned thought process :)

prev

tw pet whump, conditioned whumpee, left for dead, caretaker new master, amputation, abandonment, self-deprecation, self-blame, ableist language directed at self, murder, dehumanisation

Whumpee tried to breathe evenly. There was no one to chastise it for panting anymore, but it still believed that if it held itself to the rules of its former master, said master might come to rescue it. Maybe they'd have a change of heart. Maybe they'd decide Whumpee didn't deserve to die shivering and in pain, abandoned in a dirty alley.

When the stranger appeared, it found it had no strength left to pull itself into the shadows to avoid being noticed. All it could do was lie there obediently and occasionally whine as the person touched it and muttered concerned-sounding questions.

It didn't know how to react. Its master wasn't here anymore to tell it whether to bite or nuzzle, and Whumpee didn't have the capability to decide on it itself.

Maybe this was good? The mention of a vet was promising, but could this stranger really be telling the truth? Even if they were... was it allowed to accept help? Its master left it for dead; every breath it'd drawn since was an act of rebellion, further marking it as a failed dog who couldn't even die when it was told to.

But then the mysterious person noticed its ankle, and Whumpee realised it wouldn't have to make the choice. Now that they knew it was faulty, it was only a matter of time before they turned on their heel and decided to forget about the encounter.

At least that was what it thought, before its saviour quickly reassured it.

Help... It would get help. It would be fixed for a new master to take home and make use of.

Would its old master resent it if it went along with this? It wasn't its duty to ponder that. Dogs were to follow the orders of their masters, and Whumpee didn't have an owner anymore. Up until this moment.

-

Whumpee tried very hard to be good for its new master. But when Caretaker brought it to a clinic, one of the first assassments the doctors had made were that its leg was unsalvageable.

It would have to be cut off.

It couldn't keep the panic at bay, it snarled and growled and made a huge fuss. It only managed to settle down when Caretaker firmly told it to, when they guided it back to the comfortable hospital bed and ordered it to let the professionals help.

Surgery was a blur, a blank spot, and more of a blur after, and Whumpee thought everybody had changed their minds with the way its ankle still hurt when the first round of painkillers wore off. Phantom pains, its owner had called it.

Caretaker was still kind after the surgery, softly reassuring it over and over that they wouldn't leave it. They should've, by all accounts. It was weak for a guard dog, ugly for a lapdog, useless for any sort of companion Caretaker might've wanted out of it.

And yet, they stayed. Whumpee couldn't talk, but its silent resolve and pledge of loyalty was as strong as any made with words.

-

Pain. Pain. Pain.

There was nothing but pain and exhaustion in Whumpee's world as it pushed its body to its limits, deciding that a simple setback — such as a missing foot — could never be an excuse for giving up and disappointing its owner. Caretaker took pity on a faulty guard dog, and Whumpee would pay them back by becoming the best among the faulty guard dogs.

It didn't need its foot to be strong. It didn't need its foot to stay alert and obedient.

It didn't care about the instructions of anybody but Caretaker. And when Caretaker wasn't there to supervise its training and rest, it didn't listen to a single nurse who dared assume it would simply accept a new reality in which it was of no use to such a kind, benevolent master.

-

There were no words to describe the joy Whumpee felt when Caretaker allowed it into their home. It was overwhelming, it made it want to cry and laugh at the same time.

It had a home again! It had a home, and a master, and a duty. Caretaker wasn't super clear on what that duty would be yet, but for now, it was just happy to be wanted.

Its new pet bed was an unimaginable step up from the hardwood floor of its former master's bedroom, as well as the wet ground of the alleyway. It was a place to curl up and sleep comfortably, a luxury it'd thought only a prized show dog would ever receive.

And Caretaker still spoke so softly to it. Even though it was recovered now, able to walk and do whatever was needed of it, they still saw it fit to show it kindness. It was abundantly clear that Whumpee would never ever be able to pay it all back, but all it could do was try its best.

-

It jolted awake at the sound of someone rattling the doorknob. Master wasn't home — which meant the duty of defending the home rested upon its shoulders. It growled instinctively, getting into a position from which it could attack with ease, if the intruder were to proceed.

And they did, pushing the door open a mere ten seconds later. Whumpee didn't hesitate.

It tackled the attacker to the floor, holding them down as it tore their throat out. They never got to use the knife they'd clearly brought in case of a potential confrontation, all they could do was grasp it for a few twitchy moments before they dropped it again in favour of clasping both hands over their ruined trachea.

Whumpee stood up and stomped down on their stomach, once, twice, as many times as it took for its foot to break the soft flesh of their abdomen. And then some more. It was so absorbed in its mission that it didn't hear Master entering the apartment, only when they addressed it with clear horror in their voice.

Oh no.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no, nononono–

Had it done something wrong? It dropped to its knees, whining like it had been wounded again, and sobbing like it had any right to do so. If it had made a mistake trying to defend Master's home, then it didn't have any sort of right to pity itself, it had to be punished.

It didn't want to be punished.

Master didn't understand. Whumpee quickly brought out evidence: the lockpick, the knife... Master had to know that Whumpee hadn't gotten violent for no reason. They had to understand.

Please, please understand. I'm a guard dog. This is the only thing I know how to do. I bring death and destruction, but only when Master's safety is threatened, only when it's just, only when it's necessary.

All I wanted was to protect Master.

"You're– you're a guard dog," Master said softly, and Whumpee's relief at being understood mixed with the fear of being abandoned for it. "This... Oh, dear. This is not... This is not good."

It stopped breathing for a moment.

It was happening all over again.

~

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em @cyborg0109 @morning-star-whump @justanotherlokifan @2in1whump @lthrboy @justletmereadmywhump @florissimps @anonymous-tiangou @whump-kitty

[justplainwhump]

Lost

( @whumpmasinjuly Day 3 // Ridley, Dany and B)

Dany is protective of a feverish B. Ridley doesn’t like it one bit.

Ridley and B belong to @hackles-up and I love them. This is set pretty late in their timeline.

[Dany Masterpost]

Contents - choking (fade to black), intimate whumper, possessive whumper, multiple whumpees, forced to hurt, pet whump, conditioning, BBU setting, sick/feverish whumpee, some degrading language.

The sun is setting, as we arrive in the penthouse. It's too early to return from a reception like the one we were at, and all of us know it. I watch Ridley's back in the elevator in front of me. His back is straight, his shoulders tense, the muscles around his jaw working. He doesn't look at me. Us.

B is leaning on my shoulder. Heat is radiating from him. His fever has grown worse. I can feel him trembling through his leather jacket, swaying on his feet, while I do my best to keep him upright. He's heavy, and I have lost a lot of my former strength to Ridley. "M' sorry," B mumbles, as he did most of the otherwise silent ride in the limo. "Sorry, Sir, I can… I can be good. A good dog."

Ridley does not reply. The elevator doors slide open, and he exhales sharply, smoothes his hair as if to prepare himself for something, before he strides out, heading straight for the bar cart. 

I follow, my hand on B's chest, carefully guide him towards the bedroom.

"Where do you think you're going?" Ridley's voice is cold, accentuated by the clinging of ice cubes in the glass he's preparing.

"He needs to lay down. He's sick." 

"And what makes you think that you have any say in what happens to my property?"

I want to go on toward the bedroom, but B has gotten heavier, somehow - No. He just stopped walking. 

"Come on, B," I whisper into his hair. "You need to rest. That's my fight, not yours."

"B. Get over here."

"Sorry," B murmurs. He reaches up, slowly, and takes my wrist, guiding my hand away from his chest. Ridley watches impassively, as B stumbles across the room.

"Knees."

B obeys, slumping to his knees at Ridley's side. Ridley's hand runs through his wet hair. His gaze, however, is on me.

"Do you want to go on playing your silly little game, princess?" His fingers curl into a fist in B's hair, and B winces. I have to swallow back a sob. "You've embarrassed me at the party. And what for? To defend the dog? What makes you think he's worth it?"

"He's not a dog," I whisper.

"Oh, but he is. An old and almost useless dog, aren't you, Bee Bee?"

"I… I'm good Sir, le… lemme be a good dog for you,… please, Sir."

Ridley raises an eyebrow at me. "A dog. My dog."

"Ridley, please. Just… just let him rest."

"Ridley?" He clicks his tongue. "There's nobody listening, baby girl. You call me like I taught you to."

I almost choke, just weakly shake my head. I can't do this. "Please."

With a dramatic sigh, his gaze wanders down to my hand, the thin lace gloves I've been wearing to hide my scars when in public. My wedding ring is over it, visible to everyone. "You're forgetting your place, Danielle. That ring I put on your finger doesn't make you my equal. You're my property. Just as he is."

B is shaking under his hold, but still leaning into his touch. He presses his face to Ridley's thigh. "I can be good," he mumbles.

"And you will be," Ridley replies smugly, casually petting B’s head. "You both will."

"I can…" I steady myself. "I will be good, I promise. I'll do whatever you want. Just… just let B rest, please. He's ill."

Ridley lets go of B's hair to uncork a bottle of whiskey, and B slumps down against his legs. "Not good enough. You started this little game. You'll see the end of it."

"It's not... It's not a game."

"You're really fucking stupid, aren't you?" He sighs, while he pours himself a generous drink. "You're wrong again. It's a game, because I say it is." He nudges B with his foot. "Bee Bee. Listen to what my fucktoy wants of you."

'Fuck you', I mouth. I don't dare saying it out loud.

Ridley takes a sip of his drink and licks his lips. "Come on. Tell my dog what you want him to do. He's free to oblige. B. You're free to oblige."

B nods and stares to the ground with glassy eyes. "Yes. Yes, Sir."

"Danielle?," Ridley prompts.

"Go..." I swallow. "Go to bed and rest, B. Please."

"Hm," Ridley murmurs and takes another drink. "Bee?"

"I... Sir. May I?" 

"You may. I said it, didn't I?"

Both Ridley and I watch B struggling to get to his feet, stagger toward the bedroom. He looks at me, as he's passing me. There's confusion in his hazy eyes, but also something else. He's grateful.

He shouldn't be. I know he shouldn't be.

"Stop," Ridley says and I flinch at his voice. B stops dead in his track, right in front of me. "Now, Bee, you know what she asked, but I have something of myself. It's a suggestion, not an order. You choose. You choose what you do. She thinks you can do that, you know? She thinks you're a real man, for her to love and care for. Not a pet. So you think really hard about what you'll do now, will you, Bee Bee?"

"No." Weakly, I shake my head. "Don't, please."

B shivers, still shaky on his legs. "Sir, you're my owner, I..."

"Yeah yeah, whatever. I say you choose. Between my... suggestion and hers. Now, hers is for you to go sleep. Here's mine." There's a sharp smile on Ridley's lips. "Kill her."

For a second, B hesitates. 

Then, he slams into me. 

I fall to my back, B's crushing weight on my chest. His breath is coming in sharp gasps. 

"Choke her," Ridley says, far away. "Use your hands."

"No," I scream. "No, B! Don't!"

B's movements are sluggish, but he's strong, so much stronger than me, and his hands are on my throat, his skin burning on mine.

"No," I rasp. "Please -"

"Oh, Bee Bee," Ridley sing songs, and I hear his steps closing in, the clinking of the ice in his glass. "She says, she doesn't want it."

My pulse is racing under B's hands. His grip is firm, but I can still draw in a shaky breath. I can't. I can't die like this. "P... Please, no."

"Sir," B's voice trembles. "But... But you..."

"Mh. Yes. I do want it. It'll make me happy. You want what makes me happy, don't you?"

B's hands close around my neck. 

I lift my hands to fight off B's hold, but Ridley's foot slams down my wrist. 

"Still enjoying your little game, Danielle?"

"Rid... Da... Daddy," I choke. "For... Forgive me!"

"Nope," he says. "No, I don't, baby girl. My Bee Bee will kill you and you'll look into his pretty, sad eyes while he does. Whatever your little fantasies tell you that he is to you, I paid a shit load of money to make sure he's mine first."

Black dots are blurring my vision. My legs are thrashing uncontrollably. 

Something brushes past my temple, and I can't make it out, but I think it's Ridley, kissing me.

"You're not going to save him. You can't even save yourself. You're both mine."

Everything hurts. I'm falling. Fading.

"You lost."

I lost.

--

[Next >]

[whumpingwithclara-alt]

Whumptober Day 2

Thanks for wanting to be tagged @worldofwhumpcraft I don’t know how long this will last but I’ll roll with it for now

Tw: gunwound, cage, animal treating?, idk what else to add It’s late and I’m tired lol

Whumpee had been on the run for hours.

The moment the ankle chain was unlocked and Whumper turned his back, Whumpee had escaped from the cabin. Where he would go, he didn’t know. But the forest could- would guide him.

Whumpee was a werewolf, so having the stamina of one, he ran for hours. It wasn’t easy though. Pain lacing through every muscle each time he took a new step. So, when he saw the river, he couldn’t resist the temptation to stop.

He dropped to his knees before the water and cupped his hands in it, bringing it up to his mouth and drinking thirstly. Taking huge gulps of the ice cold water.

Then, without warning there was a thunderclap throughout the forest as agonizing pain ripped through his side. Whumpee screamed while falling chest first into the shallow water. Eyes squeezing shut while grappling for something to take hold of as Whumper strode up from behind him.

“I told you whumpee. I never miss. And here I thought I could start trusting you.” He tutted before picking up his ‘game.’ Just to tie him up and throw him in the back of his truck.

Back at the cabin he was shoved into a cage stuck in the corner. It was humiliating. Being kenneled like a dog. He was a wild animal. Not a house pet.

He glared at Whumper. “Don’t give me a look. YOU choose this Whumpee. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

[whumpurr]

Carus pt. 5

cw: intimate whumper, drugging, alcohol abuse, pet whump, defiant whumpee, age difference (both adults), male whumper, male whumpee

masterlist

--

Christopher started looking for trainers as soon as he tucked Carus into bed with him. The pet was tired from his tears already, so he slipped into sleep easily, constricted in the layers of comforters and sheets.

The light from Christopher’s phone cast his face in its pale blue. He scrolled through various listings on the internet. Most places were much further than he cared to take Carus. And he wanted Carus to come back home every day, so boarding him was not an option.

Eventually he found a listing for one Madam Eliza. She was nearby, only about a ten minute drive. She hosted the training out of a rented space, she had several other pets that she was training, and she had stellar reviews. Many people claimed that she effectively broke their rebellious pets.

Carus did not necessarily need to be broken, he was not that poor off just yet, but he would surely benefit from having someone who could guide him with a stern hand.

It was decided. The next morning, Christopher would be taking him to Madam Eliza’s and see if they were a nice fit together.

--

Carus awoke to a soreness in his chest and the heavy warmth of Mr. Christopher’s comforters on top of him. He got cold easily, so he was more than thankful for the warmth. He reached out to his side and found nothing but empty sheets and blankets. Mr. Christopher must have gotten up already, maybe he was at work. That meant that Carus had to get up and begin his chores. He only hoped that that woman was not there again.

It was a surprise to Carus when he trod down the steps and was greeted not by Josephine, but by Mr. Christopher himself, sat at the dining table with two plates of breakfast in front of him. It was rare that Mr. Christopher was still home when Carus woke up on a weekday. Carus was immediately put on edge, feeling a dread in his stomach as though he had done something wrong. Was Mr. Christopher still upset about yesterday? He wouldn't be surprised-

"Come sit, Carus." The seat next to Mr. Christopher was even pulled out already, eggs and toast on the plate in front of it. Carus had no choice but to take the seat, nervously looking down at the meal before him, hesitant to meet Mr. Christopher’s eye contact.

“I’ve found somebody who can give you some formal training on my behalf. I’m usually too busy to teach you, but…” He paused to take a bite, “If you so dislike Josephine, you can be trained to fully take her place and fulfill all the necessary duties around the house.” Mr. Christopher took a sip of his coffee. He did not tell Carus about how he may even be trained to be complacent with the presence of others in the home. Like a reactive dog, Mr. Christopher knew that he could not simply allow Carus to carry about throwing tantrums every single time someone came over.

Carus nervously took his fork and knife in his hands and started to eat, knowing that he would be disappointing Mr. Christopher if he didn’t. The idea of getting formal training did not sit right with him in the slightest, but if Mr. Christopher wanted it… Who was he to say no? He loved Mr. Christopher, after all. He couldn’t say no to him.

“We will be leaving soon. Make sure you eat enough.”

The room fell quiet, save for the scraping of utensils against ceramic plates. Carus was grateful for this meal, it wasn’t common for him to be able to eat Mr. Christopher’s cooking while it was still hot and fresh. It was usually in glass containers in the fridge that he would microwave. The fresh food sat heavy in his stomach though. He was far too nervous to appreciate it as much as he wanted to.

Carus only managed to stomach half of it before he was pushing the plate towards the center of the table to show Mr. Christopher that he was finished. When his owner did the same, Carus got up and cleared the table for the both of them, putting the dishes into the dishwasher and going to nervously stand next to Mr. Christopher.

“Go get yourself ready. You may be spending the day there.” He said, looking at his phone. Carus took a deep breath and moved upstairs to get himself dressed.

The idea of dressing inappropriately did cross his mind. There was the notion of maybe if he behaved poorly enough, then the instructor would simply not take him.  Yet, he knew that that would invoke the ire of both Mr. Christopher and the instructor, which would probably bite him in the ass later.

He found the loosest shirt he owned, which was not that loose, and pulled it on. It was at least more comfortable than his usual tight tank tops and latex crop tops on his new piercings, but it was still far from a good feeling. It made him wince when he twisted his body and his chest rubbed against the fabric, but he would just have to try his best to ignore it. He pulled on some knee length shorts, because all his long pants were either skin tight or formal.

Carus spared a glance at the mirror in his room and cringed. He looked young and childish dressed like this, two things that he tried his best to stay away from. He wanted to be- or at least look- mature for Mr. Christopher. Carus thought for a moment, and realized that he didn't remember how old he was. He brushed that idea to the side and slipped on some sneakers, heading back downstairs to meet Mr. Christopher.

He held back a shudder at the way Mr. Christopher looked him up and down with a slightly disapproving gaze. Carus should have known that he would not like this immature outfit, but it was all he had.

"Remind me to get you something else to wear." Mr. Christopher folded and set down the newspaper he was reading, putting it next to his empty plate. Carus thought about arguing for a moment, but squashed that down. He wanted to spend the least amount of time possible with this so called 'instructor', so he had to be on his best behavior. He wasn't sure why exactly he was getting sent to someone to be taught, but he figured that if he just showed all around improvement then it should be enough to exempt him.

Mr. Christopher put Carus in the passenger seat of his fancy black car and pulled out of the garage. The drive was tense, silent, and while it was short, it felt like an eternity. They left the expensive neighborhood that they lived in and Mr. Christopher brought Carus to a well off business district. It was by no means poor, but it was below the standard that Mr. Christopher usually set. He parked in front of the building. It was a small, boxy, modern, two story building, with no windows on the second floor. It was painted white, with natural wooden accents and some plants planted in the front yard, surrounded by large smooth grey stones. The two walked down the paved walkway up to the door and Mr. Christopher knocked twice.

A mature, pale skinned woman opened the door. She had a stern look to her face, her dark hair in a tight bun. She looked majestic and intimidating in her age, though she hardly looked past fifty. Carus looked up at Mr. Christopher, wondering if he was actually serious about this.

"Madam Eliza?" Mr. Christopher extended a hand, which the woman took in greeting.

"Pleased to meet you," She nodded, "This is the one you called about?" She didn't even look down at Carus.

"Yes, he's the only pet I have."

"Right, that often poses problems," She released Mr. Christopher's hand. "When they don't need to compete, they have more energy for misbehavior."

The thought of that irked Carus. Another pet? No, he wouldn't allow Mr. Christopher to ever get another pet. The heat of competition and jealousy made his cheeks flush a tad. As if she had read his mind, Madam Eliza spoke up,

"Well, so long as he behaves and learns, you hopefully won't find a need for another pet to discipline him." She clasped her hands loosely behind her back. She had a regal air about her that made tremble. "Just a trial run today?"

"Yes, I expect you to tell me later about how he did."

With that, she brought Mr. Christopher into the building, Carus tailing behind. The inside of the building was a clean, sterile room, vaguely reminiscent of a dentist's reception area. She brought him to a tall desk and slid a stack of papers over to him, instructing him where to fill them out and what each section meant. Carus couldn't believe that he was being handed over so easily, like nothing.

"Thank you for trusting your pet with us," Madam Eliza said, while Mr. Christopher gave Carus a heartbreaking nudge towards her. He obediently stepped forward to stand beside the instructor. "He is in good hands. We look forward to updating you about his progress."

With a short wave, and nary another goodbye, Mr. Christopher left for work. The air was colder and more opressive than it was just a moment ago as Madam Eliza turned and stood in front of Carus, facing him for what felt like the first time.

"We must get you changed, this way." She stepped forward, past the pet. They boarded an elevator and were taken to the second floor. Immediately on this other floor, the building felt different. They exited into a small hallway, with a cabinet that Madam Eliza opened and retrieved clothes from. Doors lined the hallway, and Carus was handed the clothes and directed into one of them.

It was a small room, hardly big enough for him to fit in, probably the same size as that cabinet. A single light shone down from the ceiling onto him. He stripped down and slowly stepped into the plain, boring beige shorts and the loose white t-shirt. It wasn't much different from what he had come in wearing.

"Leave your clothing there," Madam Eliza called through the door, "It will be returned to you at the end of the day."Nervous, Carus stepped out to meet her. His feet didn't want to move, his limbs statuesque, yet he knew that if he didn't behave, he would only receive more punishment. His chest stung as he followed Madam Eliza down the hall.

[when-the-feet-hurt]

cw: implied past + future abuse, manipulation

Whumpee sits on the park bench, curling in on themself as they seek some semblance of warmth from their sorry excuse of a jacket.  The cold bites at the cracked skin of their bruised knuckles.  Their shallow, rapid breaths turn into thin, white clouds in the air as Whumpee tries to catch their breath and ignore the feeling of blood drying on the hairs of their upper lip.  A tear forms in the corner of their black eye.

With a shaky hand, they reach into their pockets, finding nothing but a lighter, used tissue, and some spare change.  Whumpee fumbles around, trying to feel for the smooth paper of a dollar bill, but there’s nothing even remotely like it.  They reach into their jeans.  Nothing.  Maybe they missed something?  They try again.  Nothing except for the stupid lighter and bloody tissue and change.  Fuck.

Whumpee takes out the coins, staring at them as the copper and silver shine in the light of a streetlamp.  Thirty-seven cents.  What’s this supposed to get them?

“I can buy you anything you want, you know.  Just say the word.”

All of the blood in Whumpee’s veins freezes.  The pennies and nickels rattle in their shaking hand as they lift their gaze to meet a pair of eyes they’d wished to never see again.

“Not even a hello?  I thought I taught you better manners than that.”  Whumper smiles.

Clenching their fists, Whumpee shoves the change into their pocket and turns their head to the side, frowning.  “Fuck off.”

“Such a foul mouth…  You’ve become awfully aggressive ever since we’ve parted.  And not to mention those wounds.  Have you gotten yourself into a fight?”

Whumpee bites their lip, praying to whatever deity that will listen that their voice doesn’t shake.  “None of your business.”

“It is my business,” Whumper says, kneeling down and setting a hand on Whumpee’s knee, rubbing it ever so gently.  “It hurts my heart to see you like this, you know.”

“Why?  ‘Cause you weren’t the one who did all this?” Whumpee laughs.  Their ribs ache.

Whumper frowns, trailing their hand up from Whumpee’s leg to their inner thigh, caressing it with their thumb.  “I never wanted to hurt you.  I just needed to guide you in the right direction, and force was the only way to do that.  If you just be good and come with me, you won’t have to hurt more than you need to.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday.”  Whumpee forces themselves to smack Whumper’s hand off of their thigh and stands up, shoving past them.

A soft hand grasps theirs, and its fingers go over Whumpee’s stinging, dirty knuckles, soothing the swelling.  How long has it been?  How long has it been since Whumpee’s felt this?  Childhood?  Birth?  They don’t know.

“I wasn’t lying when I said it hurt my heart to see you like this,” Whumper says.

Whumpee bites their lip, loathing themself for their weakness, their naïveté; they know the words are false, poison hidden in a lollipop, but still…

“I just want to help you,” Whumper whispers, squeezing Whumpee’s hand.

Shame numbs the pain as Whumpee turns around and holds Whumper’s hand, following behind like the stupid dog they always were.