#dehumanization
“Do You Need A Break?”
The Merry Whump of May - Day 24
[Car Battery | Restraints | Conditioned]
(tw:pet whump, conditioning, electrocution, dehumanization)
Whumpee choked on air, slumping against the ropes as the electricity mercifully zipped into the floor, leaving spasming and trembling muscles in peace if only for a moment. They let out a racked, hoarse sob - blood dripping from their mouth; they didn’t even know how it got there. All they knew was the fire and the electricity and the whitehot blindness that contorted their limbs and sent their mind spinning.
Whumper laughed lightly, setting down the jumper cables. “What? Do you need a break?”
Whumpee drew in several short, shaky breaths, forcing up the words they loathed. “G-good pets d-d-don-t ask f-f-for br-eaks-s-s-”
Whumper smiled, brushing a thumb over their cheek. “Verygood.”
They turned back to the car battery.
.
[The Merry Whump of May Masterlist]
Shoutout to @themerrywhumpofmay for putting on this event!
(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @jadeocean46910 @villainsvictim @thecitythatdoesntsleep @heathenwhump @cryptidhongo @rainbows-and-whumperflies @cursedscribbles @whumpy-catfish @whumpworld @bandages-andobsessions @deltaxxk @whumpasaurus101 @whumpsday @wingedwhump @ha-ha-one @morning-star-whump @pickywhumpreader)
Lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!
tw: cnc, manipulation
everytime you struggle and protest, it just makes me want to baby and dumb you down even more. you’ll learn your place eventually, as nothing but my mindless pet, unable to do a single thing without my help or permission. I know it seems unimaginable at the moment but believe me, you’ll be begging and crying for me to play with you soon enough rather than crying and begging for me to stop. I’m sure a deeper part of you already knows you belong to me? all I’m doing is helping push that part of you up to the surface.
I need to tie you up outside like a chained up mutt.
i’d love to be talked to like a little pup or kitty. tell me “atta girl” when i do something good for you, when i accomplish something. pet my head when i sit still while you collar me. go “aww” when you see me sitting pretty, giving you my eyes, whenever i do all da cute things. snap at me when i run from your advances, grab me by my leash and pick me up while i giggle and drool. pet me better when you make me whimper and squirm! it makes me feel so warm and loved, u just want da best for me.
I know shock collars aren’t safe, but honestly nothing quite beats them(in fantasy) in terms of dehumanizing and breaking a sub, like they require so little effort on the part of the dom
CW: References to violent noncon, internal injuries, dehumanization, pet whump, abduction and hostage-taking, Nanda is a possessive creep, guns, intimate whumpers, sadistic whumpers
Kidnapping|Snitches and Stitches | Vendetta
@amonthofwhump’s Mafia Madness Day 3
-
The mattress smells.
It also has the distinction of being the only place the pet can remember ever sleeping that is evenlesscomfortable than the WRU facility room floors.
Still blindfolded, all he has is smell, taste, sound, and touch. The lumpy mattress is scratchy, stiff with stains he can’t see and refuses to think too much about, some of which must be his own dried blood. His heels hang off the edge, where the concrete floor is, his fingers tingle with near-numbness.
All he can smell is concrete, blood, some faint sick-sweet smell of old decay, and the remnants of cigarette smoke and french fries. The taste of the cheap cheeseburger they fed him lingers on his tongue, as does the bitter and salt of what they fed him after that, laughing and gripping him by his newly-cleaned damp hair until his scalp ached and his jaw burned from how they forced it open.
He shifts, slowly sliding himself up on the mattress until his feet are on it again and off the floor. The motion flares sharp pain deep inside of him, and he whimpers, biting down hard on his lower lip to keep the sound to a whisper.
It has never hurt this badly, afterward. Not even when there were multiple handlers.No, they took their time and took care, knowing he was going to a buyer who wouldn’t stand for pre-existing damage. These men… They’ve torn something, reallytorn it. This is all he’s even good for, and if he’s too broken for it…
The pet tries to push down the panic, to ignore what the pain is trying to tell him.
Even if he comes for you, you won’t live long if he can’t have you. If you can’t do what he wants. After that, it’s back to WRU, you’ll be refurbished. No one will want you, they’ll wipe you and start clean with someone new, with-
He has to stop thinking like this. The panic is cycling, and his chest has gone tight and sharp with every gasping, shallow breath. He can’t be afraid of that, not yet. He has to deal with the rest of the things he’s afraid of first.
A White Rose (Pt. 9)
(This series is created using the prompts from @summer-of-whump)
Continued from here
CW: Noncon touching, dehumanization
Killian leaned back in his chair, listening apathetically to the ramblings of the others in the room. Sometimes he wondered why he even still bothered to show up at Nicholas’s house.
The door opened and Killian glanced over as the man with the wings came in. Shea— he had said that was his name— glanced towards Nicholas’s feet and then quickly away. Something seemed different about him… he seemed somehow even more timid than before.
“Shea.” Nicholas said and Shea flinched.
“Yes, sir?”
“Bring in some drinks.”
“Yes, sir.” Shea gave a slight nod and left the room again.
Killian watched him go.
“Killian.”
“Hm?” Killian directed his gaze to Nicholas, who had said his name.
“You like Shea?”
“He has nice wings.” Killian shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone with wings as black as his.”
Nicholas smiled. “Yeah. He is kind of fucking stupid though.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t ever do anything except for what he’s told to do. Otherwise he just sits in his room all day.”
“Doesn’t he ever try to push back if you tell him to do something he doesn’t want to?” Killian asked, feeling that he already knew the answer.
Nicholas laughed. “No! He’s too much of a fucking coward to do that! He never even asks me to stop if I do something he doesn’t like.”
Shea reentered the room with a tray of drinks. After he had passed them out, Nicholas called him over. Shea obeyed without hesitation.
Killian’s stomach turned as Nicholas stroked Shea’s wings, causing him to flinch violently each time. Killian felt even more ill as Nicholas pulled Shea to sit on his lap and Shea’s face paled drastically.
Most people didn’t view the Winged as humans— and maybe they weren't— but whatever species they belonged to was every bit as intelligent and relational as humans. Killian wished he could set them all at liberty.
Instead, however, Killian was forced to sit in this room and watch as this poor shell of a person was mocked and taken advantage of.
Despite obvious discomfort, Shea never once made any move to resist or push Nicholas away. Nicholas seemed to be getting frustrated by this and was becoming increasingly more invasive.
In the next hour of chatting that passed, Shea glanced at Killian once and immediately looked away when he saw that Killian was already looking. His eyes seemed to be pleading for help, but there was nothing Killian could do. If he said something, it would take away any chance Killian had of getting Shea out. So he had to watch.
After a while, Nicholas seemed to get bored with trying to elicit a response and sent Shea away.
“I’ll be right back.” Killian said a few minutes later, excusing himself.
A White Rose (Pt. 5)
(This series is created using the prompts from @summer-of-whump)
Continued from here
CW: Blood, funeral, broken nose, dehumanization, beating
Shea was at the funeral. Nicholas had ordered him not to cry— he said it would cause a scene— but Shea was having trouble obeying. At the reception after the burial, Nicholas pulled him aside.
“I see tear stains.” He remarked.
“I’m sorry, sir, please forgive me…” Shea dipped his head.
After a moment of silence, Nicholas said, “No.” He took Shea by the arm and pulled him into a side room. “Look at me.”
Shea was getting used to that command. Master Wilson had never allowed Shea to look him in the eye, but Nicholas seemed to find it disrespectful when Shea didn’t look him in the eye.
Nicholas punched Shea in the face, sending him stumbling backwards and onto the ground.
Tears of pain streaked down Shea’s cheeks and his vision clouded as he felt blood dripping from his nose. He didn’t try to get up.
“Hm.” Nicholas said. Shea could hear him walk closer. “I always wondered how it would feel to make you bleed.” He picked Shea up by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against a wall. Shea gave a sharp cry as one of his wings hit the wall at a wrong angle. “Do you want me to stop?”
Shea took a shaky breath. “S-sir, I wish for you to d-do what you see fit… I-I disobeyed an order. If this is my punishment, I won’t protest it.”
Nicholas scoffed. “You can’t stay strong forever. I’ll break you if it’s the last thing I do.”
Shea was confused by that. He wasn’t strong. He was weak. There was nothing to break— Shea knew he was as good as worthless— especially to Nicholas.
Just as Shea’s vision started to clear, Nicholas punched him again. This time, Shea felt his nose crack. He tasted blood as it poured down his face. Shea winced as he felt Nicholas pull his hair.
“Why is your hair so damn long?” Nicholas shoved Shea into the ground. “It’s like you’re asking for people to drag you around with it.”
Shea wheezed as Nicholas kicked him in the ribs and then pulled him back to his feet by his hair.
“Clean up. You’ve got blood everywhere. All over the floor, too. Rejoin me when your done.”
“Yes, sir.” Shea breathed, trying to catch his breath.
A White Rose (Pt 4)
(This series is created using the prompts from @summer-of-whump)
There has been a time skip. Shea is now 19, Nicholas 23.
Continued from here
CW: Stockholm syndrome(?), knife, blood, vague threats, death, disease, dehumanization
Shea knelt by his master’s bedside, not daring to lift his eyes even now. Likewise, Nicholas sat in a chair by his father’s bedside, although his attitude was far from reverence.
“Well, Father, I suppose this is it for you, then? Finally done fighting fate after all these years?”
Master Wilson did not answer— could not answer. The disease had taken its course and there was nothing to be done now. The man had fought his end for days now, but… something was different today. Shea could sense it. The man had mere hours left. Of that, Shea was certain.
Shea said nothing, even as Nicholas continued to speak ill to his father. Eventually, the master’s son grew bored of this and stood, making his way to Shea. Shea did not stir— did not make a sound as Nicholas tangled his fingers in Shea’s hair and pulled hard.
“Look at him. Fucking pathetic. You two are just right together.” Nicholas spat.
Shea closed his eyes as Nicholas tried to force him to look at Master Wilson. It was not his place. It was disrespect. He would not disgrace the dying.
When Nicholas released his hair, Shea let his gaze fall back to the ground. A moment later, the door slammed as Nicholas walked out.
“Shea…”
The sound of his master’s voice made Shea jump.
“Sir?” He lifted his eyes a little, as he often did when spoken to.
“There’s not… much time left for me…” Master Wilson gave a slight cough. “Before… before I go, I wanted to tell you… to tell you that you’ve been better to me… than my own son…”
Shea’s heart stopped in his chest for a moment as his eyes widened. “S-sir— I’m only an embellishment on your already perfect life— su-surely you don’t mean to speak so highly of me.”
“Don’t… interrupt a dying man’s last words…”
Shea brought his eyes back to the ground, shame sweeping through him.
“If only… if only you had been human… I would have adopted you as my own and… bestowed upon you glory and gifts as on no one else…”
Shea felt faint. He dared not interrupt again, yet he couldn’t help but feel an immense weight of guilt for even listening to these words. Surely his master would never have said these things were he in his right mind. His last words should have been a benediction to his son— not praise to someone as unworthy as he.
“You… you have been good to me… I only wish… that I could do more for your we-wellbeing after my passing… You know you shall pass into the care of my son, yes?”
“Yes, sir.” Shea said softly.
“I am sorry…” And Shea’s master spoke no more.
Shea sat by his master’s bedside for several hours yet until Master Wilson finally passed. When it finally happened, Shea rose silently and left the room.
“M-master Nicholas—” Shea let his gaze fall to the ground again, surprised to see Nicholas leaning on the wall outside Master Wilson’s room. Before he had looked away, Shea saw that he held a knife, turning it over and over in his hands.
“Well?” Nicholas asked. “I assume my father finallydied?”
“Sir, your father was a good man. I am sorry for your loss…” Shea’s voice was even softer than usual as he said this.
In a moment, Shea gasped as he was shoved against a wall, Nicholas’s knife at his throat. He turned his face aside so as to not meet the eyes of his new master.
“That isn’t what I asked.” Nicholas hissed.
Shea didn’t attempt to make another answer.
“Look at me.”
When Shea didn’t react right away, Nicholas pressed the knife closer against Shea’s skin.
“Damn you, I said look at me!”
Shea whimpered softly, turning his face to look up at Nicholas.
“Look me in the eye you fucking coward.”
Shea obeyed, finding it difficult to hold Nicholas’s stare.
“Now. Is my father dead yet? I want you to say it. Properly.”
“Y-yes, sir. Master Wilson pa-passed away.”
“No. I want you to say ‘your father is dead’. Stop using euphemisms. Just say it.”
“Y-your… your father is dead.”
Nicholas glared, pressing the tip of the knife against Shea’s neck just hard enough to draw blood before pulling back and letting Shea go. Immediately, Shea brought his gaze back to the ground.
Nicholas turned to walk down the hall. “And I heard what my father said to you after I left.”
She felt his face pale and his blood run cold. “I-it shouldn’t have been said…” He whispered.
Nicholas laughed as he walked away. “Why not? Every word of it was true. He used it against me every chance he got. The old man never stop singing your praises.”
Pics are Shea and Nicholas from this Picrew. I edited Sheas picture and added wings because they didn’t have them as an option.
A White Rose (Pt. 3)
(This story is created using the prompts from @summer-of-whump)
Continued from here
CW: Child whumpee (this is the last time, promise), child abuse, it as a pronoun, dehumanization
“This is my son, Nicholas.” Master Wilson introduced Shea to a boy a couple of years older than him. “He’s ten. Nicholas, this is Shea. He’ll be joining us at the house.”
“Whatis he?” Nicholas asked.
Master Wilson laughed. “He’s part of the Winged. I’ve told you stories about them before, haven’t I? Anyway, they’re sort of almost people. They’re like exotic pets.”
“Does he talk..?”
“Yes he does, but he’s only six years old, so don’t expect too much.”
“Why are you sad?” Nicholas asked.
Shea realized he had been crying and blinked the tears out of his eyes. “O-oh… My…” He hesitated, then burst into tears. “I wanna go home!” He sobbed, crumpling to the ground. “I-I-I miss my mom— and my fr-friends— and I want A-Aubrey back!”
“Get up.”
Shea barely heard the command.
“I told you to get up.” Master Wilson pulled Shea back to his feet by his arm.“The sooner you put that behind you, the sooner you can start to readjust. Rule number one, I don’t ever want to hear about where you came from again. That includes Aubrey. Understood?”
“But—”
“Ever.”
Shea looked up at Master Wilson with tear-filled eyes.
“Stop crying. Dry your eyes. You’re fine.”
“I—”
“Rule number two, don’t talk back.”
Shea closed his mouth, trembling.
“You will answer to the best of your abilities when I or my son speak to you. Otherwise, you are to remain silent. Your purpose is one of beauty.” Master Wilson ran a hand over Shea’s left wing, making the boy shiver. “You are to be seen only, not heard. Do I make myself clear?”
“But—”
Master Wilson slapped Shea across the face. It stung— although not as much as when Thorne had hit him.
“Seen. Not heard. No talking back. No buts.” Master Wilson repeated.
Shea sniffled. “O-okay…”
Master Wilson’s expression softened. “Good boy.”
A White Rose (Pt. 2)
(This series is created using the prompts from @summer-of-whump)
Continued from here
CW: Child whumpee, fever, character death, dehumanization
Shea and Aubrey didn’t get a chance to escape before their captors stopped the car and hauled them out of the cage. Aubrey couldn’t stand, but the people knew she was conscious now. They carried her, grumbling the whole time. Shea walked with Jade, who held his hand as they walked up to a huge house with an oak door.
Thorne knocked on the door.
After a long moment, the door opened to reveal a tall man who looked about the same age as Shea’s mom. Maybe in his early thirties?
“Back so soon? And with two, nonetheless. But what’s wrong with this one?” The man approached Aubrey and Shea shrunk away when he got close.
Thorne shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe she tried to fly away and fell. Figured you might want her anyway. If not, we can deal with her.”
The man was quiet for a moment. “No. I’ll take her. Both of them have full sets of wings?”
“Yep.”
“Bring them in and I’ll get you your money.” The man led the way back into the house. “You can put the girl in there. Bring the boy.”
Jade and Shea followed the man into a sitting room. It was bigger than any sitting room in the community had been. He looked around with wide eyes.
“I trust that you were able to keep Thorne in check?” The man asked Jade.
“For the most part.” They shrugged. “The kid had a bit of… an experience. But he’s not hurt, as you can see.”
“Good. Come here, boy.” The man sat in a large chair and motioned for Shea to come over.
Jade gave Shea a small push forward and Shea reluctantly went over to the man.
“Do you have a name?”
Shea nodded and tried to say his name, but it came out as a squeak.
The man laughed. “It’s okay. You don’t need to be scared of me as long as you know how to be respectful. What’s your name?”
“Sh-Shea…”
“Shea.” The man repeated. “Nice to meet you. And what’s that girl’s name. Do you know?”
Shea nodded again. “H-her name’s Aubrey. She’s my cousin.”
“How old are you and your cousin?”
Shea looked back at Jade, nervous.
“They’re six and twenty.” Jade said. “Shea was separated from his mother. Her wings were burned.”
The man nodded. “Thank you, Jade. You can rejoin your group. I’ll be outside in a moment.”
Jade left the room and, for a moment, Shea thought about following them.
“Shea,” The man said, calling the boy’s attention back. “You can call me Master Wilson. I have a son who you’ll meet shortly, but it’ll have to wait until I can settle things with Jade and their friends, alright? For now, why don’t you join your cousin and keep her company, okay?” Master Wilson led Shea to the room where Aubrey was and let him in.
“Shea?” Aubrey sat up a little from where she lay on a bed when the door closed. “Did they hurt you? Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Master Wilson is really nice.”
“Who?”
“The man who answered the door.”
Aubrey looked angry suddenly.
“A-Aubrey..? What’s wrong?”
Aubrey looked conflicted for a moment, then her expression relaxed. “It’s nothing, Shea… Don’t worry about it. I… I’m sorry I couldn’t help you escape… Do you think you’ll be okay here..? At least for a little while until I… Until I can figure out a way to get us both out?”
Shea nodded.
The door to the little room opened once again as Master Wilson entered. “Hello, Aubrey.”
Aubrey glared at Shea, making him flinch. “You told him my name?”
“He asked!” Shea said, getting defensive.
Aubrey closed her eyes. “S-sorry. I’m not mad at you, Shea.”
“Well aren’t you motherly? It’s nice to meet you, Aubrey. You may call me Master Wilson.”
Aubrey glared past Shea. “If you want me to call you ‘Master Wilson’, you can call me Queen Anwyn.” She threw the blankets off. “You’re not my master and I’m not some pet for you to own.”
“I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong. That savage behavior is a perfect indicator of exactly what your kind is like. You’re nothing more than an overly intelligent parrot.”
“And you’re just an overly fat snake.” Aubrey spat, standing up. As Aubrey stood, her face paled.
“Aubrey? Are you okay?”
“I-I’m cold…” Was all Aubrey said before she collapsed.
Master Wilson managed to catch her before she hit the floor. “She’s burning up.” He set her back in bed.
Aubrey’s eyes fluttered open and she tried to push him away. “D-don’t touch me…” She slurred.
“You have a high fever. Now is not the time for arrogant pride. I’ll fetch a doctor. Shea, stay with her and don’t let her get up.” Master Wilson left the room and there was a soft click as he locked Shea and Aubrey into the room.
“He’s getting a doctor? Are you sick?” Shea jumped up and sat on the edge of the bed.
Aubrey closed her eyes. “I-I’m fine… I’ll be fine…”
“You don’t soundfine.”
Aubrey didn’t answer.
“Aubrey..?”
No answer.
“Aubrey..?”
Again, no answer. She was asleep.
A long time passed as they sat in that room, waiting. Aubrey only woke up a couple of times. Every time, she seemed less and less awake. Finally, she fell asleep and wouldn’t wake up again, no matter how many times Shea called her name. No matter how much he cried or shook her. He was scared. She looked pale. Even more pale than she had before.
Eventually, the door opened again and Master Wilson came in with another person.
The examination didn’t take long. Aubrey was dead. No one cared to explain what happened to Shea. All he was told was that she wasn’t coming back.
The terms Alpha and Female don’t go together. Even in the animal world the females know their place (except for Hyenas)…
Manslation: Human women who don’t “know their place” are HYENAS should conduct themselves like I think all the other animals do because I decided their place is below me. I have based my entire worldview on my interpretation of the hierarchy of creatures in Disney’s The Lion King. People keep telling me “that’s not how it works, that’s not how any of this works” but I get all my info from CompleteBullshit dot biz so pretty sure I know what I’m talking about.
Weapons Don’t Weep
I had so much trouble writing this. It turns out that writing stuff that comes too close to militaristic settings and actions makes my skin crawl! So there was a lot of revising to get this to where it sounded more like a scene from Mad Max than one from the news channel.
So. Have a dystopia with a totalitarian government and a rebel group trying to take them down.
CW for implied minor character death, off-screen violence.
——————
“Is everyone in position?” Leader’s voice crackles over the comms.
“Ready,” said Sniper.
“Bring it on,” said Bomber.
“In position,” Youngest replied.
“All right,” Leader said. “Let’s do this.”
The Weapon had just been deployed against a city, leaving little more than burned-out husks of buildings behind. The people there had just wanted clean drinking water after Government had contaminated theirs. They were protesting peacefully. But Government couldn’t let that stand, couldn’t let that challenge to their authority go unchallenged. So they sent in The Weapon.
The rebellion hadn’t gotten the information in time to stop The Weapon on its way in, but the team was able to do something now that The Weapon was leaving.
The Weapon was being transported in a convoy of armored vehicles. It was the middle car, the most protected position. You would have to be an idiot to try to attack it.
The team was just that kind of idiot. They made a plan that was just crazy enough that it might work.
The convoy pulled up past their position, and they put the plan in action.
————–
Somehow, the plan worked. The other cars got scared off, leaving only the one with The Weapon. By the time the rest of the team arrived, Leader had already dealt with the driver and guard. They all walked to the rear of the vehicle where the cargo compartment opened.
“I still say it’s a bomb,” Bomber said.
“Of course you do,” Youngest muttered.
“Areusablebomb?” Sniper asked skeptically.
“So a bomb delivery method, then!” Bomber said. “My point still stands.”
“Well, we’ll know for sure once we get this open. Then we can destroy The Weapon for good,” Leader said.
Youngest got out their lockpicks and worked at the lock on the cargo area. After a few moments, it clicked open.
“Okay,” Leader said, pushing the doors open. “Let’s see just what this weapon is.”
The inside of the compartment was dark, and it took the team members a few moments to make sense of what they were seeing.
There was something in restraints in the middle of the compartment. But it wasn’t a machine. It wasn’t anything they would have thought of as a weapon.
“Is that…” Bomber said, leaning closer.
“What the fuck,” said Sniper, quietly but with feeling.
“That’s,” Youngest started, but broke off.
What was there to say? They all could see what was right in front of them.
Restrained in the cargo compartment was not a piece of machinery, but rather a body. The head, covered in a blindfold, turned towards the sound of their voices.
“The Weapon… is a person?”
Ok, I went back to read the first chapter and it’s official, I love it. Everyone go read this series now!!! (mind the tags tho, as most whump it might not be for everyone lol)
God, how is it that I’m in love already?!
