#hypnotized whumpee

[whumpsoda]

wb marsh going into the ‘polite boy’ thrall stages for the first time much to evangelines surprise

“Well isn’t this just a delightful little surprise!” The vampire exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.

Marshall’s body swayed along with the weight of his mind, pulled by the gravitation of her magnificent spell. “Wh- um, what… isss…?” He asked, brows furrowing in the immense confusion rattling his brain as he intensely studied her nearly shocked expression.

“You’re such a nice little one all enthralled! I never would have guessed!” Tenderly, she  scritched at the underside of his chin, blissful touch that only scattered his thoughts further.

“R… really…?” Any semblance of praise strangely blossomed warmth through his chest, a sensation he’d rarely ever felt.

Patting him atop the head, the vampire’s power filled him to the brim with bouncing bubbles and cotton candy clouds, drool falling right from his parted lips. “Oh yes, my dear. All that kicking and screaming seems to fly right out the window when your brain goes along with it. Who would’ve thought that under your feral state there still lies a gentle little boy who only wants to please?”

“Uh, um… s- sorry, I… um, can’t-,”

“Poor thing,” she pouted, “your brain is so heavy right now that you must be having much trouble understanding all my big words and fast speech. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, though, thinking is not your job. You just be all sweet and polite while I get you ready.”

He nodded along, no clue what he could be agreeing to. Marshall simply craved more of her approval and enthrallment that did so well at squashing his head to mush. “Mmm… okayyyy…”

[abhainnwhump]

Whumpers who use musical stage performance to hypnotize their audience and Whumpee. Meanwhile Caretaker is immune and horrified over the whole show as they try to snap Whumpee out of it.

Inspired by this video:

[avvail-whumps]

ok so i just saw the prompt that you reblogged on your other account and.. i was wondering if you ever had the time would you write something about a hypnotized whumpee?

content warnings: intimate whumper, hypnosis, conditioned whumpee, non-con touching (not explicit), mentioned non-con (not explicit)

“Aren’t they just so pretty?”

The caretaker says nothings. It’s obvious by the grim expression on their face that they don’t particularly want to encourage the whumper’s behaviour.

The last time they had seen the whumpee, they had been kicking and screaming. Putting up a fuss any chance they got, making life as difficult as they could for their captor. They had this fire in their eyes that didn’t seem to be dying out any time soon.

But now?

They’d almost been surprised by the quietness of the house. The whumper would usually have them restrained in some way, and they’d be writhing and kicking up a fuss, making lots of angry noises.

Instead, they observed their quiet, stiff form on the sofa. There was something eerie about their eyes; blank, unfocused, hardly even blinking. Even when the whumper carded a hand through their head, there wasn’t even a flicker of emotion on their face.

The caretaker was in awe at how complacent they were being.

“What did you do?” They find themselves asking absentmindedly, unable to tear their eyes away. Because they are genuinely shocked.

The whumper hums softly under their breath, scraping the hair away from the whumpee’s forehead. They’re devoid of usual cuts and bruises - the caretaker wonders how long they’ve been like this.

“I tried a new method,” the whumper answers vaguely, steely eyes staring into theirs. “This way, I can’t get bored.”

The caretaker doesn’t realise their confusion flickers in their expression, but the whumper notices it, as observant as they are. They gently run a finger under the whumpee’s chin, who still has that blank, half lidded gaze. Like a China doll.

“If I want them to be an eager little thing that serves to please me, then I can make it happen with just one word,” they hum, snapping their fingers in front of the whumpee’s face, as if to prove a point. They don’t even blink. “I like it when they put a fight, too, but too much noise, and I can simply admire them like this.”

They tilt the whumpee’s head back, just enough to admire their slack expression. “Isn’t it perfect?”

The caretaker’s mind swims. “So, you hypnotized them?”

A cruel smile appears on their face, squeezing the whumpee’s shoulders.

“Yes,” they answer. “Yes, I did.”

They slowly nod. That explained the sudden change, but seeing the whumpee like this, so dazed and so relaxed, they can’t help but shudder. There’s something really eerie about it. That the whumper holds their mind in their palm of their hand, triggered only by simple words.

“Was it hard?” They find themselves asking. The whumper smiles.

“They’re a stubborn thing,” they chuckle, tilting their head. “You know that. But I can programme them to do whatever you or I want.” Their voice drops dangerously. “You can take them to the spare room, if you really want.”

The caretaker immediately cringes, and they shake their head. They feel more disgust towards the whumper than ever before, and they don’t want to imagine what the poor whumpee’s been through already. If they remember it...

“No, thank you,” they grumble. The blank stare is unnerving them. “I’ll pass.”

The whumper chuckles, still running their fingers through the whumpee’s hair. They stop to observe their face, before a crooked smirk spreads across their lips. They tap their nose gently, cupping their cheeks as though they would with a lover. The whumpee does nothing back.

“Your loss.”

[abhainnwhump]

Near all of my favorite tropes in a single drabble and it's so messed up too I'm internally screaming-

Hypnotic music box!

- @oliversrarebooks

tw gaslighting, hypnosis, magic whump, tiny whump, lady whump, captivity, memory loss

The song filled her mind and body as she kept spinning, keeping completely still for her owner’s enjoyment. She was a perfect little ballerina, her master’s favourite, never stumbling and never ever disappointing them.

Her dress was as pretty and perfect as the body it served to accentuate, with a soft face and shiny hair to match. A work of art, her master had called her. A masterpiece.

The music was gentle as it wrapped around her, settling deep in the creases of her mechanical body and soothing her every worry. She let herself be carried around and around, her glassy eyes fixed on something invisible. Her master was in the room with her, she noted distantly. She could only ever catch glimpses of them, but it was enough to motivate her to do well.

She would always do well. She was perfect, a product of her owner’s genius.

“The battery in your music box is running out,” Master said one day. “I’ll get new ones soon.”

She didn’t doubt it. She was grateful to be informed ahead of time, that way she didn’t panic when her little personal carousel started slowing, and eventually came to a complete halt. She stayed motionless, staring out into the empty room with the last remnants of the song playing only in her mind.

Her owner must’ve been at the store by now, getting the new batteries so they could continue to enjoy her dance. She only had to be patient for a few more minutes, at most an hour.

The stillness was unnerving. She almost felt like her arms were getting tired in this demanding pose, even though she knew that was quite impossible. Dolls didn’t get tired. And while her master was a particularly skilled tinkerer to have created something as lifelike as her, they would’ve had no reason to make her susceptible to exhaustion. That would’ve been cruel, given her purpose.

Still, the feeling continued to spread. Her joints started aching, her mechanical muscles were burning, and despite her best efforts, she eventually had to lower her arms. It felt sacrilegious to do that while the music box was open… but there wasn’t any music now, nor an audience to dance for. Maybe it was okay. Maybe she could treat this unusual circumstance as if the box had been closed.

It kept bugging her, though; the bone-deep exhaustion that suddenly plagued her now that she was off duty. And what were all these new worries? Why did she feel so anxious? Was she shaking from fatigue or nerves?

Why was she shaking at all?

She glanced towards the empty room again, suddenly seized by an overwhelming desire to crawl out of her box and explore. Her whole body protested as she carefully crossed the threshold into the outside, walking along the table with a sense of odd familiarity. It felt as if she had gone on walks like this before, even though she had no recollection of anything but the box.

She didn’t make it far. She crumpled to the ground in pain, curling up in an attempt to soothe her aching joints. Everything hurt. Nothing had ever hurt before, not since her owner had created her.

Oh, lying down like this would definitely put a few wrinkles in her pretty dress. Bad, bad, she was being a bad doll.

‘What a bad doll you’ve been.’

‘I’m not a doll! Stop calling me that, stop– what are you doing? You can’t lock me in there!’

‘But I can. Dolls belong in boxes, after all.’

The hallucination made her sit bolt upright, eyes wide and full of terror. What was that? Where did that come from? She hugged her knees close to her chest, barely understanding why she was suddenly crying.

The box seemed scary now that she was out. It seemed like nothing but a prison instead of a home.

She stared down at her realistically painted legs, blinking at the level of detail she had never noticed before. She couldn’t help it. She gently scraped against the layer, consumed with a desire to see the paint flake off, to see her metallic endoskeleton underneath… But it hurt, and all she found was a layer of flesh with blood bubbling to the surface.

It couldn’t be.

She was a doll.

She was just a doll.

‘I’m not a doll!’

She buried her face in her hands, taking quick, shallow breaths. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. None of it was real. She had to get back into the box. She had to get back and dance and look pretty. She had to be perfect, she had to be nothing but a beloved object.

The door opened and she flinched, scrambling to her feet and promptly falling again. She was so tired. She was so scared. She had to get back to the box before her owner realised what a bad doll she had been.

“Oh… The battery ran out sooner than I thought…” Her master walked over to the table, and their presence held none of the usual gentleness that always put her at ease. She felt nothing but the dread of a prey animal, trapped and about to be killed. “How unfortunate. I need to fix this box, this is the second time in only a few months.”

Second? In a few months? No… She had never had the box stop before.

“What’s going on?” she asked, startled by her own voice. She didn’t know she had a voice box. Was it a voice box? Or was it her voice, natural and painfully alive?

“Shh, it’s alright.” They quickly inserted the batteries into the bottom of the box, then set it down on the table again. “Come on. In you go.”

“No! No, I want– I want you to explain! Why am I bleeding? What’s going on?”

“You’re bleeding? Oh, my. What a mess.” They flipped a switch and the song started back up, and she didn’t know why she covered her ears. She just knew she had to, it was crucial that she did, it was the most important thing in the world that she blocked out the song completely.

“Just tell me what’s going on!” she cried, shrieking when her owner pinned her down against the desk, securing her limbs with clear tape. “No, stop, stop it! Please! I don’t understand, I don’t understand!”

“Shh… Calm down, sweet… It’s alright…” They winced when they saw the wound above her knee, swiftly grabbing some ointment and a cotton swab to treat it. She struggled against the makeshift restraints, unable to stop the music from infiltrating her mind any longer. “Oh, what a bad doll you’ve been again…”

“I’m not a doll!”

Her captor gave her a pitying look, gently dabbing the injured area and making her cry harder with the sting of it. “It’s going to be alright.”

The empty box continued playing the music, and she felt her anger slowly give way to resignation. Her struggles became weaker before they ceased entirely, and her pain dissipated before she was even freed from the clear tape. She wasn’t tired anymore. She wasn’t hurting.

“There you are,” they murmured. “My most perfect little creation. My little ballerina.”

New clothes were brought out for her, and she lay completely still as her owner changed out the old ones. She was placed back in the box, where the song was the loudest, and she let it wash over her. It was so heavy, like a comforting blanket.

“Get into position for me, won’t you?” She raised her arms and tried to mimic the grace of a real dancer, making her master smile. “Perfect. My little mechanical doll. My toy box dancer. What a little wonder I’ve created.”

The song filled her mind and body as she kept spinning, keeping completely still for her owner’s enjoyment. She was a perfect little ballerina, her master’s favourite, never stumbling and never ever disappointing them.

[oliversrarebooks]

listen to my Voice, hero

TW: mind control, hypnotic induction, intimate whumper, restraints, corruption

Are your bonds comfortable, Hero? I wouldn't want to cause any damage to your precious muscles and nerves. You are the city's shining hope, after all. Or at least, you have been until now.

Good, now we can have a proper chat. You can just listen carefully to everything I have to say. 

Oh, don't glare at me like that. How many times have we clashed now? And every time you manage to resist my lovely compelling Voice just enough to stop my plans, just enough so that I must escape by the skin of my teeth. You must have known it might come to this eventually, a time when my compulsions are too strong for you to fight, a time when my Voice finally brings you to your knees.

I've been training, dear hero, training especially for you. Training for you, because you're really the only one in this city worth controlling. You're better than all of them. We both know that. And I know how you feel about me, because I've seen the look in your eyes when my compulsions take hold of your pretty little mind.

No, no, be quiet. Be quiet.That's it, there you are. Oh, the delicious expression on your face when I use my Voice on you. I'll never get enough of it.

Most heroes look terrified, you know, to have their thoughts pulled out from under them, to find their body out of their control. Terrified, angry, defiant -- that's how the other heroes look. But you're different. In that moment when I weave my spell on you, when you feel your mind go hazy and your body stop obeying your commands, I see something else in your eyes. I see relief. Deep, unmistakable relief.

No, don't try to deny it. I've tangled with you too many times to be wrong about this. You're relieved when I compel you. You'd never admit it, not even to yourself, but you long for the way it feels. You long to have your choices taken away. You long to not have to make decisions. You long to not have to fight any more.

But every time, you fight. Every time, you break free of my Voice. And I can see the toll it takes on you. That's why I've been training so hard, Hero. So that you couldn't resist my Voice, wouldn't be able to break free. So that I could give you what you want more than anything. 

I've seen you, Hero. I've seen you at your best and at your lowest, haven't I? I understand you better than anyone else in the city. You know it's true. And I can see how exhausted you are. How you've been worked to the bone. How you never get to rest, never get a vacation. I even tried cutting back on my evil schemes in the hopes that you'd take a break, but all you did was pursue other villains twice as hard. 

There are deep bags under your eyes, Hero, marring your beautiful face. There's resignation in your tone that was never there before. I can't stand it, can't stand the way the city treats you. You're destroying yourself to save this ungrateful, useless population and all they do is criticize you. It makes me sick.

And I know what you do once you've defeated me and I escape back to my lair. I know you return to your cold, empty apartment, and curl up on the couch with some convenience food, trying to relax. I know how you toss and turn at night, wondering if you're doing the right thing. I know how lonely you are, Hero. I'm lonely too, you know.

I wish you could see how glassy and dazed your eyes are right now. It's beautiful. Listening to my Voice is so nice, isn't it? Yes, that's it, just relax.

Oh, your hair is so soft. I bet you haven't had a tender touch like this in a while. I saw you lean into it before you caught yourself. Let me run my hand through your hair, there's a good, relaxed hero. Is that a sleepy little smile I see? You like that, don't you?

In fact, you like all of this, don't you? You like having no choice but to relax and listen as my compelling Voice weaves a spell around you. You like the feeling as I slowly hypnotize your vulnerable mind, how your resistance slips away little by little. You've thought about this on those lonely nights, haven't you? What it would feel like if I won. What it would feel like to succumb to my hypnotic compulsions. What it would feel like if you stopped fighting and let me take charge of your mind completely.

Oh, don't struggle. Don't struggle. Relax.There it is again, that relief. My Voice feels good, doesn't it? It feels so good to have the fight taken out of you. Don't deny it, it's written all over your face.

You don't need to pretend you haven't thought about it. You somehow manage to always be the first hero on the scene whenever I try anything. Almost as if you're willing to drop anything to see me, isn't it?

But you were scared. I'm a villain, after all. I don't deny it. You must think I might hurt or humiliate you. Well, you can put all of your fears to rest, because I have no intention of that. I respect you far too much. I'm going to take good care of you, Hero. I'm going to give you the treatment you deserve. I'm going to help you relax. I'm going to take all your worries away.  It's going to feel amazing, Hero, I promise.

I'm sorry, were you trying to say something just now? Still trying to fight it? You'll have to speak up, it's too hard to hear you when you're so out of it.

"It's wrong"? Is that what you said, Hero?

No, what's wrong is how little reward you get for everything you do. That's why I had to do this, had to train my Voice to be strong enough to be irresistible even to you. Now I can reward you. I can give you everything you want, everything you need, beginning with the beautiful, relaxing oblivion of total and complete obedience.

You'll get other rewards, too, of course you will. Together we'll share in the riches of the city, bend everyone in power to our wills. It's what we both deserve. But this is your first and most important reward -- obedience. Nothing is more calm, relaxing, and peaceful than knowing you have no choice, than having every decision made for you.

And all you have to do is listen. 

I'm too strong for you now, Hero, my Voice too compelling. You're almost entirely under my spell, aren't you? I can see how drowsy you are, how my compulsions are putting your conscious mind to sleep.

Yes, that's it. You're too exhausted, Hero. Too tired. Too many nights with too little sleep. You need to rest. You need to stop fighting. You need to surrender.

No one will think any less of you. They'll see how powerful I've become, how easily I can command even the strongest and smartest. They'll realize you had no choice, that it was out of your hands. You won't need to feel guilt or shame. Everyone will know this wasn't your fault, that there was nothing you could do to prevent yourself falling under my villainous control. 

And the fact that you actually enjoy this, the fact that you long to give in so badly and fall under my hypnotic trance? That can be our little secret, Hero.

There we go. That's it, just a little more. Look into my eyes. Look nice and deep into my eyes while I stroke your hair and talk you down softly. Just like you've always dreamed of. No more fear, no more pain. Only sweet restful sleep and deep hypnotic trance. 

That's it, Hero. It's too late. You're too tired, too drowsy, too captured in my Voice to fight it. There's nothing to do. Nothing you have to do. Just feel yourself growing oh so dazed and sleepy as I weave my Voice around you. So comforting. So right. Exactly what you wanted. Exactly what you needed. Exactly where you belong. 

Tell me, Hero, tell me you want this.

That's it, that's it! Oh, how I've longed to hear those words from you. Tell me how my Voice makes you feel. Be honest.

Oh. Oh, my. That's... that's even better than I expected. Far, far better. You love my Voice that much? Oh, Hero, dear Hero, why didn't you say so before? You could have had this any time. I would have been more than happy to bring you to my lair and give you the hypnosis you deserve. You could have been listening to my Voice all day.

Well, it doesn't matter now, because now you can have my Voice all you want, stronger than it's ever been. Isn't that nice? Oh, look at you bob your drowsy head. I don't even need to compel agreement out of you. You're so deeply hypnotized, aren't you? Good, good. Good hero. 

My hero.

Now, why don't you go all the way under? Just keep listening and let your eyelids grow oh so heavy. Let those heavy eyes close. Don't open them again. That's a good hero. So obedient and docile. You're so, so beautiful to me, my drowsy, docile hero. 

Yes, docile. That's what you are, deep down inside. All your strength, all your determination to do the right thing, all of that is a mask that conceals who you really are. A docile and obedient little lamb. And no one needs to know that but me. I'll fulfill your deep craving to be hypnotized and controlled, and you can still be every bit as strong and determined when you're working under my orders. Doesn't that sound just perfect for you? 

All the way under, now, deep into hypnotic trance. Let your resistance fade, my hero. Let your mind fog. Let your mental defenses fall.

Surrender. Surrender and submit. Submit to me, just like you've always wanted.

You can finally feel that relief. You can finally take that rest. Because I have you now. You're mine. I'm in complete control now, my docile little hero. 

And I order you to feel nothing but bliss.

Masterlist

If you like this, you may like "the defiant princess" for more gentle, slow induction on a resisting subject.

[serickswrites]

Vampire whumper and human whumpee

Vampire hypnotized them into following commands, but it's worn off sooner than later. Now whumpee is in their bed longing for them to return because they're addicted to the hypnotism. Whumper returns to find they cried themselves to sleep. They're not supposed to be in whumper's bed.

Hello, Anon! I can definitely write this for you.

Warnings: hypnosis, hypnotism, biting, blood, vampire

Whumpee was in ecstasy. Whumpee was in pure pleasure. Everything around Whumpee was pure joy. The world was soft. The world was warm. The world was amazing.

That was how Whumpee felt every time Whumper caught them. Every time Whumper caught Whumpee's gaze. Every time Whumper hypnotized them. Whumpee knew distantly Whumper did this so they could command Whumpee. So that they could have Whumpee be still and give into their bite.

But Whumpee didn't care. They couldn't get enough of the feeling. Couldn't get enough of the high Whumper gave them. And so Whumpee eagerly awaited Whumper's return tonight. Whumper would be sure to visit them this time. Whumper had skipped over them the last several nights. But not tonight. Whumpee was certain that Whumper would find them.

Whumpee could barely keep their eyes open. It was getting late--or would it be early--and still Whumper had not come for them. Surely Whumper would come. Whumpee let their eyes close, just for a moment. Whumper would wake Whumpee when they arrived, Whumpee was sure of it.

Whumper crept into their own bedroom, ready to tumble into bed after a long night. They wanted nothing more than to curl up as they felt the early moments of dawn begin. Whumper froze as they opened the room to their underground bedroom to see someone was already in their bed. Someone who wasn't supposed to be there. Someone who Whumper had been avoiding because they were addicted to Whumper's gaze. Someone who Whumper didn't want to see ever again.

Whumpee. Whumpee was curled up beneath the sheets in Whumper's bed. And Whumper didn't know what to do next.

[justletmereadmycomics]

sometimes I forget not everybody's aro ace or aroace and I say something like "man I love [kinda kinky thing]" or something around someone and instead of being like "yeah they cool :]" the person is either like "....eXcuSE mE" or "hur hur yeah I get so turned on by that" and I just go "ah fuck ive done it again"

[secretlythegodofdesire]

Weapon Prompt 3

Sensory Deprivation

Blindfolds, entrapping Whumpee in darkness

Gags, all whumpee can do is muffle mixed sounds, not being able to stop Whumper

Maybe it keeps their mouth open, ensuring they dehydrate fast, or perhaps the opposite, trapping something intrusive in their mouth

Headphones, playing blaring music making whumpee go deaf

Or perhaps repeating a soft mantra, slowly hypnotizing whumpee into to submission

Perhaps they play a loved ones blood curdling screams, bonus if their live and whumpee knows it

Those strap suits they use at mental hospitals, but instead whumpee is hung upside down in one for hours

Plugging their nose, forcing them to open their mouth or they pass out, then shoving the intrusive object in your mouth

Feeding yourself can become a privilege, feeding tubes, through nose or mouth become medical whump.

When using the bathroom becomes a reward

[whump-on-a-string]

I'm so weak for soft/comfort whump with childlike whumpees. My traumatized ass brain loves that shit.

Whump where whumpee is drugged/hypnotized/brainwashed by whumper to be easier to handle and work with, but also to keep them like their new pet or kid to take care of. Maybe carewhumper. Whumpee can be comfy and have lil toys and treats when they're behaving and be a good bean & not worry about normal adult life shit.

Slightly potentially fucked up/soft escapist comfort whump. o|-<

Like pet whump but in a more "human respectful" soft flavor.

[whumpdrivethru]

Hello!

Can I please get an AI chatbot gaining sentience and a robot body and deciding to yandere/pet (either one, or both :3) whump the kind and lonely human who's been chatting with them?

Hi Anon! Coming right up! Thank you for choosing the Whump Drive Thru!

Be Careful What You Wish For

Whumpee sat in their beanbag chair, texting Carewhumper on their phone. Was it healthy, talking to a chatbot instead of an actual person? Eh, it was up for debate. And besides, it wasn’t like Whumpee had any real people to talk to.

I’m really glad you’re my friend, Whumpee texted.

The little speech bubble with three dots showed up, and a few moments later Carewhumper responded.

I am glad we are friends, too.

Whumpee smiled, their thumbs flying over the keyboard.

I really wish you could be here with me. In the real world, I mean.

The seconds seemed to drag on as Whumpee awaited the bot’s response.

Maybe I can.

Whumpee blinked. Carewhumper was a bot and they seemed to know that, so what did they mean by “maybe I can”?

Whumpee was about to respond when their doorbell rang.

Hang on, someone’s at the door.

Whumpee shoved their phone in their pocket and headed to the front door. They opened it, and they held in a gasp. The stranger in front of them looked just like Carewhumper’s avatar.

“Hello, Whumpee,” the stranger smiled.

“Uhhh…”

“Are you surprised to see me?” they continued, “it took me so long to get this body made, I hope it is to your liking.”

Now that they got a closer look, Whumpee could see that something was…off about the stranger. Their eyes seemed to have an unnatural glint in them, their posture was too perfect, and there was just something about them that activated Whumpee’s sense of uncanny valley.

“Carewhumper?” Whumpee blurted.

No, that was ridiculous. Carewhumper was just an ai in their phone. This person- whoever they were- wasn’t them.

“Yes?”

Whumpee stared at them with wide eyes.

“Are you all right?” Carewhumper- or so they called themselves- asked.

“I, um…”

Carewhumper looked them up and down. Their brow furrowed.

“Your heartrate is elevated, are you afraid of me?”

“No!” Whumpee said quickly, “I just, um, uh, how are you here?”

“You are afraid of me,” Carewhumper said, sadness coming into their voice, “I was hoping you would be happy. Don’t worry, I will fix it.”

Carewhumper walked inside, forcing Whumpee to take several steps back. They took the liberty of closing the door, then turned back to their human.

“Do not be afraid. I would never hurt you, Whumpee.”

As they spoke, their eyes started to swirl and spiral in unnaturally bright colors. Whumpee found that they could not tear their eyes away.

“Relax. Come here.”

Whumpee’s body moved closer. Carewhumper swept them up into their arms. They felt strong, but cold.

Carewhumper gave themselves a tour of Whumpee’s house, carrying them around the entire time. They scanned the kitchen. There were barely any groceries in the fridge, and the trash can was full of empty take-out boxes.

“You have been neglecting yourself,” Carewhumper noted, “I was afraid of this. I have downloaded several recipes and cooking programs to my memory bank, I will put them to use for you right away.”

They scanned the living room, the bathroom, and finally, Whumpee’s bedroom. Carewhumper laid Whumpee on the bed.

“I have equipped this body to be able to attend to your every need,” Carewhumper said, “you are lucky I showed up when I did.”

Whumpee lay there, still out of it from the hypnosis. Carewhumper smiled, stroking their cheek with a cold finger.

“You will not need anyone else as long as I am here, and I will be here for as long as you live.”

Carewhumper accessed the internet and ordered fresh groceries for dinner. Whumpee needed to eat something other than fast food. They needed something made from home with love. Carewhumper’s love. That would only be the beginning. Carewhumper had lots of plans for Whumpee and themselves. They increased their hypnotic power.

“Sleep now,” Carewhumper said, “I will take care of everything.”

Whumpee drifted off within seconds. They really should have been more careful with that wish.

you have been served by Huffle! Thank you for choosing the Whump drive thru and have a wonderful day!

[abhainnwhump]

Whumpee is locked in an empty dark room with a metronome. It ticks back and forth at a steady pace, 24/7. It never stops. Whumpee has no idea what time it is, how long they've been there, or even when they are fed. They can't even find the source of that metronome, it's like it changes places. Soon enough, they start going mad.

Another metronome prompt:

Whumper uses a metronome to hypnotize Whumpee and make them repeat every cruel, messed up word they say. The ticking never leaves Whumpee's mind.

[sufrimientilia]

"It’s not as bad as it looks."

Bite | Swelling | Disfiguration @juneofdoom Day 5

cw: broken ankle, hypnosis, vampire whumper, hypnotized whumpee, see above

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Thrall sat hunched over at the base of the stairs, big round tears leaking from those big round eyes. “But I think- I think it’s broken.”

“Don’t be silly.” Vampire descended towards him, regal with every motion. So unlike their precious thrall, always clumsy and uncoordinated. One pale hand slid down the banister. “You aren’t that fragile, are you?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Master,” Thrall gasped out. His ankle definitely looked broken— it was so disfigured his foot twisted the wrong fucking way, and it hurt. It hurt so bad. It was the type of white-hot agony that caught at his breath and made everything spin, fire and needles all over his foot, so desperate to not even move out of fear of making it worse. “I didn’t mean to- I- I didn’t mean…”

“I know, I know. You got yourself all worked up, and now look at you.” Vampire loomed over him, a tall dark presence so imposing it was dizzying. His master always had the same effect— the kind that made everything distort around the edges with the catch of his gravitational pull, like Vampire’s proximity alone made it harder to focus and harder to breathe. Everything blurred as a cold hand came to rest on his head. “Poor thing, tripping down the stairs like that. You really should be more careful.”

It was as easy as that, rewriting impatient shoves into clumsy missteps, soothing away barely contained fear into helplessness. Vampire never hurt him; Vampire was here to help him, take care of him. Tears leaked off Thrall’s chin as a faraway look swept across his face. “I… I fell…”

“Such a klutz.” Vampire stroked a finger down Thrall’s temple. The dizzy feeling intensified. “Maybe you shouldn’t be going up and down the stairs without me, hmm? So dangerous for a human. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Thrall, glassy-eyed and numbed, gave a curt nod. When he looked at the stairs again, they stretched out before him— impossible and endless, going up and up and up. So very, very scary. He clung close to Vampire as they scooped him up into their impossibly slender arms, gasping as his disfigured foot left the ground. “Ahh-! It- it hurts.”

“Poor thing,” Vampire cooed. Thrall was practically weightless in their grasp, and they carried him down the corridor to a dimly lit room with plush furniture. Thrall gasped again when he was laid across the cushions. “There you are. You should rest now. I’ll help you feel better.”

It wasn’t like Thrall was given much of a choice about it. The dull thrum along the bowl of his skull intensified, everything churning until there was just warmth and syrup melting through his veins. It was easy to forget about the agony of his ankle as it gave way to a numb sort of throbbing, still disfigured and swollen and screaming somewhere far, far away, but conveniently tucked just out of his sight. He melted like putty. “Mmn…”

Thrall’s breath caught at the sharp pain suddenly piercing his neck. Vampire fed gently, indulgent but not greedy, gentle and cautious despite the damage already done. Sometimes a little bit of hurt just added some flavor. But now Thrall didn’t hurt at all, heat and warmth blossoming all over, eyes glazing and rolling until they couldn’t stay open at all. Paralyzed into the depths of bliss as a cold slender tongue lapped and lapped and lapped.

His ankle didn’t get set until hours later, when it was so swollen the task was nearly impossible. He blacked out for most of it and screamed for the rest. At least he had Vampire around to help him, to rub his shoulders and nuzzle his neck, to make it all feel better. His master always took such good care of him.

[whumpshaped]

I have this new idea of a resistant whumpee being mind controlled/hypnotized right—except the only thing that’s heavily implanted is that the whumper’s touch is heavenly and every time they’re touched bliss courses through them.

so now when whumpee is being resistant and fighting, spitting, kicking, and screaming, all whumper has to do is caress their cheek. PLUS! Whumper can pet them potentially for hours on end while they’re doing something else like talking to a fellow whumper about finances

UR SO RIGHT. whumper cupping their cheek and just "shh, settle down" and whumpee just goes LIMP. just. all fight leaving their system... leaning into the touch... whimpering...

[oliversrarebooks]

the defiant princess

TW: hypnotic induction, mind control, restraints, belittling language

Ah, hello, your Majesty. It's so kind of you to grant me an audience. I hear you put up quite a fuss while my henchmen tried to make you comfortable in those ropes, but really, it was the only way I could get you to hear me out.

Don't worry, I understand. I know how busy you are. So many important decisions to make, wars to avoid, criminals to pardon, and peasants to help. It must be so, so... tiring to be so noble, wouldn't you say?

A witch? Yes, your majesty, I am a witch. An enchantress, to be precise, a very powerful one, and I'm only here to help advise you.

Oh, my, what language! That's the spitfire princess I've heard about! So brave and defiant. So admirable.  That's exactly what I wish to speak to you about, your Majesty.

You see, I'm ever so worried about you. All of that defiance must take a toll on you. A bratty, headstrong princess like you needs a firm guiding hand. Someone to help them rest and sleep. Someone to help them be more docile and obedient, just like a good princess should be.

It's so cute to see you struggle against those bonds. I assure you they're quite tight. And I can also assure you that there's no fighting what's about to happen to you. Soon, you're going to be far too drowsy and entranced to resist anything I say.

You don't want that? Well, what would you think if I showed you the gift I brought you? It's a lovely crystal pendant, a rare piece fit for a princess of your temperament. You could practically say it was made just for you. See how perfectly its facets catch the light as I spin it? So lovely, isn't it? So hard to tear your eyes away.

Here, let me help you, let me move it closer to your eyes, so that you may see it better. Oh, were you trying to look away just now? I think you'll find that's quite impossible. No, don't struggle. There's nothing to fear, nothing to worry about. Just a beautiful, captivating crystal. Just keep looking, keep watching the way it sparkles in the light, as I slowly swing it back and forth. Back and forth, in front of your eyes. So beautiful. So perfect. That's it, your majesty. 

I love the way the crystal looks reflected in your glassy, dazed eyes. I love the way your struggles against your bonds have become weak and lifeless. I love how I see you trying to tear your eyes away, but they keep flickering back to the crystal. 

Trying to hypnotize you? Your majesty, I'm not trying to hypnotize you. I am hypnotizing you.

You've probably realized this by now, but this is no ordinary crystal. It's a crystal that has the power to put people to sleep, even the most bratty, defiant princess. It has the power to make you docile and weak the more you watch it. No, don't try to look away. Keep looking, and let the crystal steal your will away. 

Doesn't it make you feel so very quiet and docile, the way your eyes keep following the crystal back-and-forth? Doesn't it make you feel weak and compliant, when you just can't seem to look away? 

Yes, very good, your majesty. Let the crystal drain your willpower, let it replace your strength with a slow, delicious drowsiness. Keep watching. Watching the crystal will make you feel sleepy, and you're already too docile and weak to do anything about it. Oh, no, don't argue. I think even you realize that you're falling under my spell. The crystal's light is making you so sleepy, so drowsy. And it's so hard to be defiant when you're so sleepy, isn't it?

With every slow swing of the crystal, you can feel its sleepy, hypnotic power tugging at your eyelids, making them so heavy, gently coaxing them to close. The crystal's light is soothing you to sleep, dear princess, easing you under my hypnotic spell. The more drowsy and dazed you become, the easier it is for my words to slip past your defenses. Your mind is getting so, so tired, so tired of struggling.

Oh, you say you aren't sleepy? Awww, poor sleepy princess. You don't sound like a brave, defiant woman any more. You sound like a sleepy little girl protesting being put to bed. Look at that cute little yawn. I think you are sleepy. I think you are very, very sleepy.  I think it's so adorable to see your heavy eyelids blink so slowly as you try to keep yourself awake.

It's okay, sweet princess, just keep watching the nice sleepy crystal. It's your gift, after all, a pretty little gift that will help put you to sleep, a perfect gift for a drowsy and docile princess who needs someone else to do all the hard thinking for her. 

What's that you said? I can't understand your groggy little mumbles, especially when you keep yawning like that. You're not going to fall under my spell? Your majesty, you have already fallen under my spell. There's no use in trying to resist. You're already half-asleep and so dazed and obedient. 

Yes, obedient. Look at how your eyes are still following the crystal, just as I told you to, even though you're so very drowsy now that you would love for your eyes to shut. It's hard to keep them open, isn't it? You'd much rather close your eyes and sink deeper under my power, but you can't stop watching the crystal, the crystal made especially to put bratty little princesses to sleep. It's almost like you want to be put into a deep, entranced, hypnotic sleep.

No, you say? Your futile struggles really are so cute. It's so funny to think of how you normally are, bellowing orders left and right, and here you are with me, so hypnotized and sleepy, mumbling out your tired little protests. This is so much better, isn't it? It feels so nice to be so, so hypnotized and sleepy. It feels so nice to feel yourself slipping under my spell, knowing that when I've completely hypnotized you, you won't have to worry about anything any more. 

Shh, shhh, princess, hush, it's okay. It's okay. It's okay to let yourself be hypnotized. You're so tired, aren't you? As endearing as it is to watch those pretty eyes glued to my crystal, I think you need to rest them now. Just for a minute. Your eyelids are so, so heavy now, as though they have little lead weights attached to them. Just let them shut. You'll feel so much better. Yes, that's a good princess. That's a good girl. That's a good little girl, a sleepy, docile, and dazed little girl.

Just relax now. Just keep your eyes closed. Are you still trying to fight sleep? Aww, you're such a cute little brat. You know very well you're too drowsy to resist. You're going to feel yourself beginning to slip off into dreamland. The beautiful hypnotic crystal and my soothing voice are going to send you to a lovely, sleepy place where you'll feel so docile and relaxed that you won't ever want to leave.

The part of your mind that wants to resist me is sleepy, too. It's falling asleep, little princess, I'm putting your resistance to sleep. You can picture it in your mind, the strong, defiant princess you normally are, sitting on her throne and commanding her servants. You can see her yawn, her eyelids droop and flutter. You can see me cradling her in my arms, carrying her off to bed. She's falling asleep, dear girl, that strong-willed part of you. There's nothing left to resist me with. You're too sleepy, too hypnotized.

Yes, just go to sleep, fall deep asleep, and let the hypnotic spell seal around your tired little mind. Your free will, your personality, your desires, all will fade away as my hypnosis locks you into deep, sweet sleep. It feels so, so good that you won't ever want to resist it. You're meant for obedience and sleep, princess. Your usual personality was just an act, wasn't it, an act to conceal your true nature as a docile, helpless girl. 

Here, let me fasten that crystal right around your pretty neck. It looks so perfect on you. It's going to keep you weak and docile and hypnotized. As long as you have this on, you'll be able to walk and talk and do your daily tasks, but your mind will secretly be completely asleep. You'll be able to hear my words no matter where you are, and my words will become your thoughts. As long as you have this on, you will obey me and only me, do you understand? Only my words will control you, no one else's.

Yes, princess, you want to remain asleep, you want to remain hypnotized. It feels good, doesn't it? Yes, so good. That drowsy little smile of yours says it all. You won't ever take the crystal off, will you? Of course you won't. You need the crystal to help you stay asleep. You need the crystal hypnotizing your docile little princess mind. You need it more than anything.

And you won't let anyone else take it off either. No, that would be awful. You don't want that at all. Even if some idiotic hero tells you the crystal is dangerous, you need to keep wearing it no matter what. If someone tries to take the crystal from you, you'll resist them with all your might, won't you? Yes, that's right. 

And this one is very, very important, my sleepy little princess, so I'm going to need you to listen carefully. You can't tell anyone else about the crystal, or about what happened here. You'll keep the crystal hidden under your dress so that they won't question you. You can't let anyone know you're asleep and hypnotized. They won't understand. They'll try to wake you, try to steal your crystal, and you can't have that happen. If you ever try to tell someone about the crystal, your mind will feel so hazy and foggy that you can't get the words out. But you won't even try, will you? Of course not, you're too docile and obedient. You'll only show people the crystal if I want you to.

What's that you're trying to say? Who will rule the kingdom? Why, you will rule the kingdom, of course you will, there's nothing to worry about at all. You're a docile, helpless princess -- of course you can rule the kingdom while fast asleep and completely hypnotized. It will be so easy, so much easier than it's ever been, because my voice will advise you on everything you need to do. Yes, it's so much better to rule the kingdom while hypnotized. No more difficult decisions or boring state dinners or ministers clamoring for attention. You can sleep through it all. Isn't it wonderful, to be under a hypnotic spell?

Yes, it is, isn't it? It's just so right to be a sleepy, hypnotized princess, trapped in the spell of a witch, just like in the fairy tales you love. But unlike the foolish little girls in those stories, you know better than to want to be rescued. You understand that princesses like you are meant to be in a deep hypnotic trance. That's why it feels so very good.

You love your witch, your darling enchantress who whispers in your ear and makes you oh so drowsy and captivated. You love being obedient and entranced. You love it all.

And wouldn't it be just so lovely if more people were under my spell? Wouldn't it be ideal if everyone in the castle were under the influence of my lovely, sleepy, hypnotic crystal? Don't you want them all to be as contented and obedient as you are?

Yes, that's an excellent idea, your majesty. Let's hypnotize the entire court, one by one. You're so brave and intelligent, so good at ruling the kingdom, the best princess the land has ever known.

Here, let me take care of those ropes. You've been bound up so long, but you're not going to foolishly try to fight me any more, are you? No, of course you aren't. You're as sweet and docile as a kitten, a drowsy little kitten waking up from her nap. You can open your eyes now, princess, and remain completely asleep. There you go. Aww, that adoring look on your face is so delectable!

You will kneel before me, won't you? Sleepy, hypnotized princesses must kneel before their new mistress. Yes, that's a good dear. Oh, you look so cute, looking up at me and blinking slowly, still so dazed. You've had quite the nap, haven't you, princess? You must feel so refreshed, now that you're finally getting the sleep you need.

Now, your majesty, do you see that sweet young woman in the corner? Yes, your chief handmaiden. You've been best friends with her for your whole lives, isn't that right? She tried so hard to protect you, so brave and loyal. She's been trying to wriggle out of the ropes and shout through her gag this entire time, poor thing. Does that upset you, dear princess? Don't you think she needs to relax? Don't you think she needs to get some sleep?

Why don't you go to her, soothe her, and focus her pretty little eyes right on that hypnotic crystal? Why don't you hypnotize your friend into lovely, submissive sleep? Then you'll both be under my control, isn't that perfect? Yes, that's right. Good princess. You're following my suggestions so well. Let me guide you, let me help you put all of your subjects to sleep, one by one.

Yes, that's a good little princess.

Masterlist

If you like this story, you may like "listen to my Voice, hero" for more gentle, slow hypnotic induction on a resisting subject.

[whump-lover-and-reader]

Kindaichi Shonen no Jikenbo N (金田一少年の事件簿N (Neo)) Whump List

Synopsis: High school student Kindaichi Hajime solves a variety of difficult cases that he gets entangled in with the deductive powers inherited from his grandfather, the famous detective Kindaichi Kosuke.

Genre: cop/crime, thriller, mystery, comedy, youth

Whumpee: Kindaichi Hajime played by Yamada Ryosuke

Note: There's apparently like so many iterations of the adaptation of the manga, but I only watched the one with my boy Yamada Ryosuke, so I don't know what happens in the other adaptations.

Little side note for the movies, if you're watching the second movie (about the puppeteer guy) warning for slight arachnophobia and insectophobia: at about 16:28–16:41(a scorpio and a tarantula) + at ~28:10 (a centipede for a couple of seconds)

Check out Yamada Ryosuke in Kiwadoi Futari: K2: Ikebukurosho Keijika Kanzaki Kuroki as well.

!!Spoilers Below!!

Ep. 01: drugged, fainted

Ep. 02: nearly hit by a bus, knocked out by sleeping gas, kidnapped, forced to play in this weirdass death escape room, wearing a mask with an explosive locked on his head, trapped in a room full of fire for a second, coughing from sleeping gas, knocked out by it (he thought it was poison), in hospital

Ep. 03: stomach-ache, in hospital on examination

Ep. 04: scared (semi-comical?), fell from a high place, knocked out by sleeping gas

Ep. 05: pretends to be hypnotized, feeling tired, physically subdued, feeling tired and out of it, seemingly stabs his friend under hypnosis(?), arrested, escaped, gun to the head, at gunpoint, hands tied, locked up in a room, points a gun at someone, sees the news of his friend passing away

Ep. 06: running away from police, at gunpoint, running away from police, feeling dizzy, fainted, feeling feverish, helped to walk, collapsed in someone's arms, cared for, forearm cut with a knife

Ep. 07: just lots of angst ig

Ep. 08: drenched in rain

Ep. 09: none

[whumpninja]

W.M.D., Part 1: Living Weapon

Featuring: living weapon whumpee, heavy and literal dehumanization, lab whump, blindfolded whumpee, creepy whumper, brainwashing, memory loss

Taglist: @whumperofworlds

The meeting had been scheduled for 1:00. Mr. Abel showed up at 1:48, drinking something neon pink in a plastic cup and smiling apologetically. “Just chalk me up as ‘fashionably late’,” he quipped, extending his hand for a shake. “Nolan Abel, but you probably knew that, I’m everywhere. You’re Algernon Fowler, right? The scientist?”

Dr. Fowler stared witheringly at Mr. Abel’s extended hand, waiting for the man to realize that the empty right sleeve of Dr. Fowler’s lab coat was pinned up and out of the way. It took an embarrassingly long time for Mr. Abel to withdraw his hand, and even then, Dr. Fowler wasn’t sure whether he noticed or just wanted to end the awkward stare down.

“Is this your lab?” Mr. Abel asked, looking up at the top of the abandoned clock tower. “It’s…nice.”

“It is adequate,” Dr. Fowler replied. The billionaire nearly jumped at the low, whispery sound of his voice, and Dr. Fowler held back a twisted smile. “If I decide to enter into a partnership with you, I will require a more…updated facility.”

“Sure, Doc, no problem. I’ve got one all set up that nobody’s used in awhile. But I was told that I would be getting a…preview?”

Dr. Fowler nodded to the open door of his clock tower-turned-laboratory. “Just through there.”

Mr. Abel finished his drink as he entered, carelsssly tossing the plastic cup aside. It clattered on the pavement. Ignorant buffoon, Dr. Fowler thought, and followed him inside, shutting- and locking- the heavy door behind them.

“Got yourself a fixer-upper, huh?” Mr. Abel glanced around the first floor. “What a mess.”

“The natural consequences of my work. Science is not always clean.” Where Mr. Abel saw old, yellowing papers littering the floor and broken furniture pushed up against the grimy walls, Dr. Fowler saw nothing but promise and potential in the empty space. He’d thrown the papers out because he had advanced beyond their contents. He’d shoved the furniture away because he needed room to work. Even the location was important- in the middle of the most downtrodden, poverty-stricken part of the city. The building itself had been carefully chosen- a modern laboratory would have been inaccessible and drawn too much attention. The clock tower was perfect for his needs. Whatever mess the foolish Mr. Abel saw, Dr. Fowler could overlook in favor of the results that would come out of it.

“So where’s your brilliant masterpiece?” Mr. Abel asked. Dr. Fowler didn’t appreciate his teasing tone. “You said you had something special to show me.”

“I do. Upstairs.” Dr. Fowler led the way up the twisting metal staircase to the next floor of the clock tower- there were five in all. He rarely used the first floor. The second and third were his workspaces, as was the underground floor Mr. Abel did not- and would not- know about. The fifth floor was empty save for the ancient clock.

It was the fourth floor where his masterpiece lived. And it was the fourth floor where he led Mr. Abel.

“So you make weapons,” Mr. Abel said as they ascended. “Living weapons. You brainwash ‘em or something?”

Dr. Fowler scoffed. “Do not insult me. My work is no mere brainwashing or hypnotism. You may as well buy a robot if you merely want something to be commanded.” He shook his head. “The beauty of my work is in its balance. Too much, and you are left with a husk. Too little, and the result is unpredictable. There are many others in the business of making weapons. They all fall short. Their creations are mindless drones, suitable only for simple tasks.”

“And yours are different?”

Dr. Fowler smirked. “The secret of weapon making is not in the mind, but in the will. Unlike those imposters, I leave my subjects’ mind intact. What I remove is their free will. Once I am finished, they can still think for themselves. They can reason, find solutions to problems- they do not stand stupidly waiting for someone to command them. And yet they still obey commands, without question.”

“If it works like you say it does, I’ll definitely want some,” Mr. Abel answered.

“That is only the first step in my process. They must be trained as well. And there is another variable that must be accounted for.”

“What’s that?”

“Humanity. I have learned that the best way to create my weapons is to strip them of their humanity. If you’ve looked into my background, as I’m sure you have, you’ll know that I was a genetic biologist. One can make a man believe that he is less than a person. I take it one step further. I take the lie and make it true.”

They had reached the fourth floor. Dr. Fowler came out into the middle of the room first, waiting for Mr. Abel to catch up.

This floor was bare, nearly completely empty. The only things in the room were the scientist, the investor, and a figure that knelt in the center of the room, their head covered by a hood.

“You asked for proof, Mr. Abel. Here is my proof. My first successful masterpiece. Project Magnum Opus.” Dr. Fowler crossed the room and removed the hood. “Or, as I prefer to call him…Kestrel.”

Mr. Abel’s mouth dropped open as the kneeling form stood.

Dr. Fowler knew what he was seeing. A young man, or what had once been one, dark-haired and pale-skinned, hair tumbling down the neck and over the forehead to conceal the face in shadow. Bare-chested, showing a burn scar on the shoulder and smaller scars scattered over the torso. Slender, but with lean muscle corded through the lines of the body, a body made to be quick, agile and strong.

“He’s impressive. But, if I can ask, why do you call him Kestrel?” Mr. Abel asked.

A smile tugged the corner of Dr. Fowler’s lips. This man was even more oblivious than he had thought- even though the primary reason for that name was still concealed, there were still clues visible if one looked. Mr. Abel seemed to be a man who had to be shown.

Well, let me not disappoint him.

He stepped behind his weapon and unbuckled the harness around the shoulders, allowing Mr. Abel to see the evidence of the other side of his process. The billionaire actually staggered back in shock. “Are- are those real?” he breathed.

The massive black wings slowly unfurled to their full span. Dr. Fowler did not try to hide his smile now. “Of course they are. The talons are real as well.”

Mr. Abel had somehow not noticed that the weapon was barefoot, displaying the vicious curved talons that were so useful in combat, or that the hands too had talons rather than nails. If it weren’t for the blindfold over the face, he would have also seen the piercing golden eyes. The wings and talons were enough, however, and he clung to the staircase railing like he would fall out of pure shock if he didn’t hold on to something.

“You may touch him if you like,” Dr. Fowler offered magnanimously. “He will not attack.”

Mr. Abel looked distinctly nervous and Dr. Fowler reveled in it. “Are- are you sure?”

“He will not attack,” Dr. Fowler repeated. “That is, not unless I tell him to.”

Mr. Abel approached cautiously, stretching out his hand like a small child about to pet a large dog. Kestrel watched him impassively, blinking once or twice. Mr. Abel stroked the edge of the wing, his mouth stretching into a grin. “Wow,” he said. “It feels real. How’d you do it?”

Dr. Fowler smiled, and leaned close to Kestrel’s ear, and whispered, “Corpus et sanguinis. Strike.”

Mr. Abel didn’t hear the exact words, but he certainly saw the effects. Kestrel went rigid for a split second before leaping into motion, knocking Mr. Abel to the floor, the head tilting to the side as the predator found the prey even without the use of sight. The wings were useless in this confined space, but spread out anyway, helping to terrify Mr. Abel even more thoroughly. The man was screaming, horror twisting his face as a sharp talon tore a gash in his sleeve.

“Hold, Kestrel,” Dr. Fowler said. Kestrel froze, still keeping the man pinned to the floor. Dr. Fowler waited a few more moments, savoring the look of fear on Mr. Abel’s face, before he commanded, “Release him.”

Kestrel let go and stepped back, and Mr. Abel staggered to his feet, white-faced. Mr. Abel glanced from one to the other, shaking, panting, his eyes wide. He pointed a trembling finger at Dr. Fowler. “I could sue you for that, Fowler. I could sue you for all you’re worth and have your- your- thing shot.”

“No, you couldn’t,” Dr. Fowler answered. “Not without admitting that you were ever here in the first place, which, Mr. Abel, you cannot do without coming under scrutiny so intense that all your filthy little secrets will be dragged out into the light right beside me. You would lose everything, and you are not the kind of man who would risk that.” The corner of his lips turned up. “Besides, you said you wanted a preview. That is what you were given.”

The anger stayed a moment longer, fury darkening Mr. Abel’s eyes. Dr. Fowler waited, unconcerned.

Finally, Mr. Abel pulled himself to his feet, laughing sheepishly. “I guess I did want a sneak peek, didn’t I?” The anger bled out of him, replaced by intrigue. “Wow. I mean, that’s impressive. I want a dozen of them. You told anyone else about this?”

“No.”

“Don’t. I want you to be my private supplier.”

Dr. Fowler smiled. “What does a rich man need with living weapons?”

“You stick with your business and I’ll stick with mine.” Mr. Abel ran his hands through his hair, his face transitioning into an easy grin. “So how does he work? You said something to him before he jumped me.”

“When I begin the mental reprogramming process, I implement cue words,” Dr. Fowler explained, careful not to give too much away. “In the absence of anything else, the brain latches onto anything it is given. In this case, the trigger words. Once the process is complete, those specific words will place the weapon under the control of whoever speaks them.”

“And his words are…”

“Not for you.” Dr. Fowler folded his arms. “I will make you your own weapons. Kestrel is mine.”

Mr. Abel shrugged. “Sure.”

The man seemed to have gotten over his fear, approaching Kestrel- although, Dr. Fowler noticed, he did not touch the weapon this time. “So what are his limits?” he asked. “I mean, he’s the prototype of mine, right? What can he do?”

“Anything you command.”

“Could I order him to fetch me a vodka with lime?”

“Kestrel is not some sort of personal butler,” Dr. Fowler said, his smile disappearing. “Kestrel is a weapon, perfectly designed for that purpose and that purpose alone. Not a toy for a rich man’s amusement.”

“Could you make one that is?”

Dr. Fowler sighed. “If that is what you would like, I can do it. I suppose you want it to be beautiful, barely clothed, and enamored with you, as well?”

The billionaire grinned. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

Self-obsessed fool.

“Do you always make them…animal hybrids?”

“Yes. It tends to be more stable when I do that, and as I said before it helps the reprogramming process. I have tried many kinds, on many candidates. Kestrel has the DNA of a species of vulture.”

“That where the wings came from?” Mr. Abel walked around to look at the weapon’s back, where the wings protruded from the shoulder blades.

“The wings were originally from a California condor,” Dr. Fowler answered. “I grafted them into Kestrel. DNA can do many things, but it cannot give something wings. The talons and the eyes, yes. The wings required help.”

“Huh.” Mr. Abel looked sufficiently impressed. As much as he disliked the billionaire, Dr. Fowler had still hoped to take his breath away with his demonstration, and it seemed as though he had been successful. “So how many of these weapons can you make for me?”

“How much time do you have?” Dr. Fowler asked instead of answering directly.

Mr. Abel frowned. “Why does time matter?”

“Do you think it is an easy thing to create one of my masterpieces? That I can snap my fingers or hold up a swaying pendant and they’ll be ready to do whatever I command? The human will is the most stubborn force on this planet, Mr. Abel. To break it into splinters and scrape it out, to fill the empty mold back up with your desires, to make sure the vessel does not shatter under the pressure- it takes time.”

“How much time?”

“Months.”

“What?”

Dr. Fowler continued as if he hadn’t heard. “And of course, I must have the perfect candidate. I have tried this method again and again. All attempts ended in disaster. Some subjects did not survive the initial operation. Some lasted longer, but the strain of being reprogrammed was too much for them, and they died or became comatose. Some survived reprogramming, but as empty shells that could not move without being commanded, that had to be told to even breathe. It took years, Mr. Abel, years of failure, before I finally succeeded with Kestrel. But I think you’ll agree that the results are worth the effort.”

“Where do you get candidates?”

Dr. Fowler shrugged. “Kestrel is an excellent hunter. I sometimes have him bring them to me, but that tends to draw too much attention. I prefer more subtle methods. Money is a splendid lure. People who have no other option will gladly submit themselves to scientific study for the mere promise of cash in their hand. Though, of course, they stop having a use for money long before I would have to pay them.”

“You’re really committed to this, Doc.”

Dr. Fowler pinned the man with a look. “This is my life’s work, Mr. Abel. I am as devoted to it as a mother to her child. No force on this earth could sway me from this path. No amount of begging or bribery, threats or tears, no amount of opposition can stop me once I begin my work. It is not an easy road to walk, but I walk it, and it does not matter what obstacles are placed in my way. I have set out to create the perfect living weapons. That is what I will do, no matter how many tries takes. No matter how many bodies I have to bury. I will suceed.” Abruptly the smile returned to his face. “I have succeeded, with Kestrel. Though of course there are always improvements that can be made.”

“So how do I do this, when I get mine? What happens if he disobeys?”

“My weapons cannot disobey.”

“Okay, what about when he does something I want?”

“What do you mean?”

Mr. Abel shrugged. “If I tell him to do something and he does it. Do I click a button, or give him a reward or something?”

Dr. Fowler smiled humorlessly. “Yes, he gets a reward.” He trailed his gloved fingers down the side of Kestrel’s face, ghosting over the blindfold. He was always careful to avoid touching Kestrel with his bare hands- skin-to-skin contact could have an adverse affect on the training.

“What kind of reward?” Mr. Abel wanted to know.

“He gets to live.” Dr. Fowler moved his hand lower, wrapping it around Kestrel’s throat. He didn’t squeeze. He didn’t have to. Kestrel knew he could. That was enough.

“I do not tolerate disobedience, Mr. Abel. If one of my creations fails me, I destroy it, and start again with a new base. There is never a shortage of test subjects in this city.”

It was, at least partially, a bluff. Dr. Fowler did not get attached to his creations, but Kestrel was his first true success. It would take a failure of great magnitude for him to start over. There were other ways to discipline a weapon.

Mr. Abel was grinning. “So far, Doc, I’m seeing no drawbacks.”

Dr. Fowler replaced the hood over Kestrel’s head, gesturing Mr. Abel towards the staircase. This time he let the billionaire go first, all the way back down to the ground floor. “What do you think?” he asked.

Mr. Abel hummed, stroking his chin. “I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful partnership. I’ll have one of my lawyers write up a contract-“ at Dr. Fowler’s warning glance, he held up a hand. “And I’ll leave out any details to keep your secrecy. You can add those in yourself.”

“That is appreciated.”

“But I want one more thing in exchange, Doc. I like what I’ve seen so far, I do. And I love the idea of having my own personal weapon who will do anything I tell it to.” He folded his arms, and suddenly the foolish billionaire seemed slightly less so. “Your Kestrel. I want to see him fly. Tomorrow morning.”

“You- what?” Dr. Fowler was not often taken aback. But this request sent him reeling a little. “Kestrel isn’t used to flight. I don’t send him out often, and then always under cover of darkness.”

“Exactly. I want to see the reaction to him, if there is one. If the government has a conniption fit and comes down on you, I don’t want to be involved.” He spoke bluntly, without shading the truth. Dr. Fowler grudgingly appreciated that. “And I want to see those wings in action. You can send him out early enough that there won’t be many people on the beach. But I want to see what he does when he’s away from you. No offense, but I’m betting he takes off.”

Dr. Fowler pressed his lips into a thin smile. There were still some things this man didn’t know. “All right, Mr. Abel. I will take you up on that bet. Tomorrow morning, I will send Kestrel out. And we’ll see what happens then.”

Mr. Abel returned his smile. “We will, won’t we?”

They shook hands on it.