Why does this appeal to me so much? The tearing of clothes. Roughness, slaps, grabs, hard fuck. All those hands, and of course cocks. It feels wrong and most would say it is, but I still want it so much.
He’s still not good on land. His frozen toes slip and stumble on the icy ground, and the short length of chain between his ankles doesn’t help his balance either. He remembers how he whimpered when they chained both legs—whimpered less from the cold iron on his skin and more from the expectation he will walk for them. The consequences of not moving as fast or as well as they want him to.
It’s been a mere sliver of day since they dragged him into the snowy light, and he’s already earned himself bruises.
At least the cages are elevated, away from the ground that’s turned his feet blue. They sit on a deck, a little like the one the humans dragged him onto. But this boat doesn’t skim and churn the water—instead, harnessed wolves pull it across the snow. He shrinks back from curious eyes and fangs that linger behind furry muzzles. One of them growls in warning as his stumbling almost sends him into them.
Someone wraps him in blankets, pinning arms he barely knows how to use. He struggles and receives another slap for it. This swaddling reminds him of his life as a seal, but perverted. Even on land, he could move better when he was a seal. Ropes are bound around the bundle, keeping him from shaking off the alien furs.
Then he’s dropped into one of the cages. Not carefully, and the sharp wire mesh gashes his cheek on the way down. He rolls at the impact with the ground, and feels the blood spread across his face. Hot wetness soothes features numb with cold.
A wordless murmuring. Another shape, similarly secured, pants and huffs their way over to him. A tongue scrapes at the wound, at first rough but then turning to little licks. Someone on his other side nestles into the gap between head and shoulder, a warm presence at his neck.
He ends up falling asleep among their little pile, as the musher shouts and drives the sled dogs on.
Friend? Is that a new -too short lived- friend? gahhh I’m so happy to see you writing this!
C.W. descriptions of fear, whumper making unwanted advances, noncon/dubcon kiss, sadistic whumper, masochist whumpee, threatening with a knife, freeze response, the beginning of a very fucky relationship
——
“Come in.” Hayko said, keeping his eyes down.
The form wasn’t going to fill itself. If he succumbed to every distraction, he would never get anything done and the attention problem certainly didn’t help. But the scruff of feet behind the door was composed and the knock, quiet, hardly enough to disturb him.
Hayko’s new office was simple and elegant with a pleasant enough view, and pleasant enough was all he had ever wanted. First looking out onto the sea of buildings, he had marvelled at just how high-up the feeling had been, even though above the rest wasn’t really something he had ever wanted.
But it felt nice, for once. To be above the rest instead of kneeling on the ground.
Having his own office and having the money to have his own office. He’d laughed at the wistful dream, through law school. And now? With how the business was going, a certain person had been a little more-than-generous with compensating him. Not that Hayko’s inspiration for law had been monetary.
But then again, moral good-doing hadn’t stopped his kitchen ceiling from collapsing every week.
Hayko finally looked up when there was no reply. “I-… Come…in?”
Then, two more slow knocks.
Hayko stilled, breath catching before he set down his pen. His first sense was stabbing panic and then, the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. “Come in, Nick.”
“Much better.” And there he stood, unavoidable now that the door was out of the way.
CW: tiny whumpee, fear of death, manhandling, proper whump now.
=-=
Whumpee didn’t have another choice.
The woman was playful, almost harmless, sniffing and rubbing her face on him, well, at least at first. It was bad already, he held him too tight and her claws scratched his skin from time to time.
But it was only when she started tossing him from one side to another like a ball that he made something about it. He forced the smell to stop, it was refusing to be himself, but he had no choice.
His body aching and his slightly greenish brown skin was covered in dark bruises when the woman stopped.
“What did you do?” She hissed, her sharp teeth so close to his face.
“I I didn’t.” He lied, “It it I have no no control and-” he whimpered at a new hiss, “….far far from home.”
Whumpee cried fearful, trying to knit the lies with some truth, “I’m I’m not home, I I can’t control this anymore it’s it’s on seasons,” she will kill me, she will find out the truth and kill me, “It it’ll come back but but I don’t know when. I’m sorry.”
The woman frowned at that, and he was sure she would rip him apart right there.
“Boring,” the woman said, finally letting go of him after one final sniffing.
The woman left after that, he can’t get down from the table anyway, it’s not like there is a way out.
His legs weakened and he fell on his knees, his head was starting to hurt and his stomach was starting to turn. He wasn’t supposed to suppress the smell, he would rot slowly if he did, but the woman would kill him if he didn’t.
CW: lady whumpee, lady whump, past torture, manhandling, drowning, dehumanization.
=-=
She was right. Anna thought about the punishment? lesson? What was it this time? Was there even a reason at all?
Rachel had said she wouldn’t be able to as much as open her eyes and she truly couldn’t. She could only feel the pain, the blood, the fear. Rachel was saying something, using the sweet condescending tone he always uses, but Anna couldn’t hear a word through everything.
She groaned, or tried, her throat was too hoarse to allow her to actually make a sound, Rachel picked her up and she wanted to ask her not to. To beg. It almost never works but she can’t stop herself from pleading for any strand of mercy Rachel might have.
Anna heard the chains falling down, and groaned again when Rachel carried her up the stairs to the bathroom. She must have passed out somewhere in the way because when she came back her head was being forced in the full bathtub.
Rachel pulled her out as soon as she started struggling, “Stupid mutt, I told you not to sleep without permission. Didn’t I?”
Anna gave a small nod, her body limp and hurting too much already, she just wanted it to stop.
She passed out another two times during the bath, both times she was forced awake by despair and pain.
“Oh mutt…” Rachel said, chaining the now clean and with dressed wounds Anna near the dog bed inside Rachel’s room, “If you weren’t so stupid I would be so much nicer to you,” she grabbed her victms’ hair, “are you listing to me?”
Anna nodded, trying to force herself to stay awake. She had to force herself to listen.
“Idiot, this is the reason you are hurting all the time, because you fucking deserve it, or do you think I am the only one who would hurt a idiot like you?” Rachel let go of her.
The chain was too short, forcing Anna on her knees, she whined pitifully, trying to be allowed to lay down, else she would choke everytime she fell asleep. The whine only earned her a hard slap across the face.
“Think about what you did mutt,” Rachel said, walking towards her bed, where she lay down comfortably, “in silence.”
Well, this was originally going to be a lot longer, but I decided to split it up into two separate chapters. Anyways, here’s chapter 51! Chapter 50.Masterlist.
CW: medical whump, experimenting on a whumpee, restraints, power-restricting/shock collars, some lady whump (nothing graphic, very brief), manhandling, possessive whumper, unconscious whumpee.
- - -
“Is this the right place?” Micah whispered.
They had been traveling for nearly four hours, following the directions of the coordinates on the small device. They were all on the edge of their seats- exhausted, and incredibly worried. Mickie finished rebraiding her hair for the hundredth time and wiped the sweat from her palms onto her pants.
“Well it looks pretty similar to the last time we had to rescue him, so I’d say we’re here.” Justin stated. He finished chugging the water bottle he had in his hand, crumpled it up and tossed it off to the side.
“The last time?” Micah glanced around- staring at the concrete building, towering walls- a few stories high, glowing faintly in the dark light. “What should- what should I expect?”
“Considering he was practically drowning in a pool of his own blood- whatever that man has done, it’s- it’s going to be bad.” Mickie snarked- her voice trailing off as she stared out towards the building.
Micah bit back his tongue, trying to swallow the fear. He had to stay level-headed for as much of this as he could. He glanced at Mickie as she zipped up her jacket. She looked so much like her brother- acted a lot like him too.
He wished the first time meeting his boyfriend’s sister would’ve been in better circumstances than a rescue mission.
His boyfriend…
Could he even call him that?
He obviously knew the boy liked him, that was clear. But if he was ready for a whole other level to their relationship was another question.
As soon as Andrew was better- once he was safe, he’d ask him. He’d make sure of it.
Micah climbed out of the helicopter, following everybody else as he adjusted the pistol tucked in the waistband of his pants.
They didn’t know he had brought a gun- after all, from their explanations they never needed them because of their powers. But he was just normal. Micah didn’t know how to fight like they did. But he did know how to defend himself.
And this man- whoever this ‘Splice’ was, had obviously done unexplainable horrors to his friend.
There was no way he was walking in there empty-handed.
“So, Justin and I will walk in there first- hopefully we can minimize any fighting necessary with my controlling powers- and then Mickie, you can disguise you two and follow close behind? Kind of as backup if necessary, but I want you to stay out of sight if possible.” Ali explained.
Everyone nodded, they knew this had to go as smoothly as possible. For Andrew’s sake.
- - -
It had been a little more than eight hours, and he was getting ready for the ninth transfusion. Double checking and triple checking everything- it seemed like it was going well. The cuts had closed up by now, which was good. He needed to retain the new blood- not continue to lose it. Splice admitted he looked beautiful though- the red lines covering the back of his body- the way his hair fell towards the ground- his eyes perfectly closed as he succumbed to the machine.
He checked the blood in the eighth bag from where it was hung- it was nearly empty- when the door to the room burst open, and two small figures stepped inside.
“You’re early!” Splice cried.
“W-what?” The girl said.
“This is not how I had planned it to go!” He cried, throwing his hands down onto the cart of supplies with a crash. The two kids just stared at him in shock, the boy with a weapon of ice poised to attack, the girl standing just behind his shoulder. Her eyes were so focused on Andrew that she didn’t even glance towards the man as he spoke.
“I needed three more hours. Just three!” Splice groaned in frustration, shoving the cart to the wall with a crash. The girl flinched back as tools and supplies rained to the ground as it toppled.
Splice dug his fingers through his hair. What was he going to do now? The process was going to be interrupted if they tried to rescue him. True he could always restrain the other two while he finished, that was an option, but before he could come up with a plan, the boy jolted towards him.
“Let him go!” He cried as he lunged an attack.
Splice groaned in frustration, knocking Justin back towards the ground with a well-aimed kick. He quickly sprung back to his feet and began throwing punches and attacks as the man tried to defend. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl rushing towards his prisoner where he lay.
“Oh no you don’t-” He stepped away from Justin, causing him to fall off balance. Splice grabbed Ali by the arm as she reached for Andrew and threw her across the room in a swift move. He darted to the control panel- grabbing a lever towards the side.
“Stop!” He shouted. “Don’t move. This lever controls everything he’s hooked up to- I pull it, and all the machines keeping him alive and breathing, will shut off, splat, kapoot- that’s it.”
“No- don’t-” The girl whispered.
“Oh I won’t hesitate.” He threatened. “It’s very noble that you want to help, and rescue him, but I need you to back away from the boy.” Splice demanded. The two kids did as they were told- holding their hands in the air. “Good. Now it’s very vital that I finish what I was doing, or this whole thing I’ve been working on will be useless.”
At the sound of his words, Splice’s own form seemed to melt off of his body. It pooled to the ground before rising up and splitting in two, creating two other replicas of the man.
Ali shuddered as one of them approached her- they always looked so dead inside- nothing behind their eyes, no thoughts- no feelings, just whatever command they were given.
“Grab her.” He commanded.
Ali couldn’t mind control something that didn’t have a mind of it’s own.
Her powers were useless against it as the figure pulled her arms tight behind her back, holding her in a tight grip. Justin darted towards her to help but the second clone grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
He cried out, trying to swing a punch with his other arm but it was blocked just as quickly as he swung it.
“Hey now-” Splice called out- motioning towards the lever- “I suggest you cooperate. For your friend’s sake here.”
Justin glared towards the man and let his arms be pulled behind his back with a grumble- glancing towards Ali to make sure she was alright. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of Andrew the entire time.
“There we are, that’s better.” The man stated. He disconnected the drip bag that was now empty, and set it off to the side.
“What are you doing to him?” Ali asked. Her voice wavered with worry as she watched her friend lie there- unmoving, suspended in the air.
“Oh you don’t need to worry about that. Let’s get you two out of the way for the moment, shall we?”
Splice moved to the cart where he had collected a few extra collars. They were scattered about with the other supplies, but he managed to pick them out of the mess. The goal was to make more as time went on, for all future prisoners, but these other three he had rounded up would have to do, even if they may have been a little imperfect.
He slipped one over his arm, grabbing the second in his hand. He pressed his thumb against a button and moved towards the girl.
“Hold still now- this will only pinch a little.”
“What are you- hey-” She cried out as the collar was locked around her throat, a sharp pinch in the back of her neck from the prongs. Almost instantly waves of pain shot up the back of her neck, exploding into her head. She groaned out- this was far worse than any migraine- and soon her vision began going spotty.
Her limbs felt heavy, and her knees began to buckle.
Justin lashed out towards her as she started to fall. The clone struggled to hold him back, but as the other one laid Ali down by the wall it quickly came to restrain Justin as well.
“What did you do!” He cried. “What did you do to her!” He was seething with anger- thrashing about as a clone struck the back of his knees, tearing his arms behind him as he crashed to the ground.
Justin watched with terror as she groaned and writhed on the floor- her hands clutching the sides of her head. His attention was quickly pulled away Splice approached him next with the second collar.
“No- get that away from me!”
Splice wrenched his head back with a fistful of his hair, exposing his neck and soon the collar was locked around his throat as well. He winced at the pain and nearly instantly began to feel slightly dizzy.
“What is-” his fingers reached towards his throat. “What is this-” his breathing began to quicken.
“They’re power restricting, isn’t wonderful? Much easier than a surgical procedure, like we had to use last time” Splice explained. His clones came back and melded back into his form, as Justin collapsed on the ground- panting for breath.
“It’s different for each person. They’re beautifully made, but of course I’m a little biased, considering they are my creation.” He gestured towards the boy- his white hair drooping to the ground- his pale skin. “Andrew here simply became more easier to work with. For her, she’s probably having the worse migraine of her life, and you,” Splice knelt down in front of Justin- his face beginning to feel clammy as he tilted his chin up “-you will probably start feeling the affects of dehydration pretty soon. Your powers being water-based and all.”
Justin looked towards Ali once more. Herbody was shaking as her arms wrapped around her head. His limbs felt heavy as he dragged himself over to where she lay on the ground. His fingers fumbled uselessly over the edges of her collar- trying to find a clasp, an opening, or something.
“I wouldn’t recommend that if I were you.” Splice taunted.
“Take it off-” he pleaded- “it’s hurting her-”
“That won’t work- they’re encoded with my fingerprint. It’s the only way to remove them.”
Ali grumbled as he fussed with it some more- ignoring all the man’s direction.
“Take it off-” he demanded.
Splice shook his head, reaching for a small remote he kept in his pocket.
“Alright, well if you won’t listen to me-”
And then there was fire coursing through his veins. Justin flew back from Ali, his back crashing against the ground.
“Did I mention they have incapacitating abilities as well?”
The shocks coursed through his veins- spasming every muscle, tightening his lungs- and Justin screamed. Splice knelt near the boy as he thrashed against the ground, and waved the remote towards the girl.
“Next time- it’ll be her collar that goes off, understand?”
Through his groans of pain Justin nodded, sweat pouring down his forehead as he spasmed.
“Good. I suggest you listen from now on, yes?”
Splice rose to his feet as he turned up the dial for the strength of the shocks, and Justin screamed once more.
I’m excited for this chapter- I’ve had this idea rooting around in my head for a while now. It’s sort of inspired by @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi’s machine in their tools series, and Febuwhump day 22: restrained. Chapter 47.Masterlist.
CW: broken ankles, mention of old wounds, chains, restraints, suspension, noncon touching (not sexual, just creepy), manhandling, medical whump, intubation, loss of bodily autonomy, creepy/intimate whumper, defiant whumpee. There’s kind of a lot going on in this so let me know if I should tag anything else.
- - -
His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. They blinked away old tears and blurred sight as he focused on a spot just to the left of the bright lights.
He could hear the clattering of metal. Splice had been fiddling with something across the room. And Andrew had been chained down far too many times to recognize what they sounded like.
The smell of dried blood and sweat was overpowered by that of chemicals- and he could taste them through the air in the back of his throat. His mouth hung open slightly- sort of panting to enable room for more breath, but his lips and tongue remained dry and sticky.
There was the coolness of the ground against his bare skin. It pressed against his back- against the old welts along his legs and the bruises bubbling underneath his skin.
Andrew had literally been crushed- burned- whipped- carved open-
What was a couple broken bones and sprained tissue compared to all that?
Andrew let his eyes droop closed. He could feel his heartbeat throbbing down in his ankles- pulsing with the blood in the already-swelling limbs. Nevermind that the rest of his body still ached- that he was bruised- that was nothing compared to feeling his bones shifting underneath the skin from where they were supposed to be. He felt like his skin would burst any moment from the stabbing ache of the pain.
Splice was fiddling with something across the room. From where Andrew lay he could see chains- cuffs, pieces of metal- random equipment. All lying about on the floor, or laid out carefully on a small, rolling cart.
“Well- I’m just about ready.”
The man had been “getting ready” for probably an hour or two now. But Andrew had no idea what that meant.
“Ready for- for what.” He asked- the words coming through between bursts of pain.
“For the next phase of my plan. You see, that’s why I took a little break from you. I was getting this ready.”
“What- what is it?”
The men stepped to the side- Andrew winced as he propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look. It looked like- it barely looked like anything.
“This is- hmm, well it’s, it’s a system I guess.” Splice stated. He paced around whatever the contraption was, as if staring at it more would help him explain it better. “A system of carefully planned equipment- for the main purpose of dependence. Complete and total dependence.”
“De- dependence?”
Andrew did not like the sound of that. He tried to shuffle closer to get a better look.
There was a series of chains- he counted- six of them in total, hanging from the ceiling. Three small platforms were bolted into the ground- nearly evenly spaced apart. They barely looked big enough for anything- just a thin rod, coming about waist height, with maybe a six inch square on the top. There was a drain underneath everything in the floor- a monitor to the side with a display- connected to the wall- and a few other smaller machines that were scattered about. From his position on the floor he couldn’t quite see all the things that were set on the cart- but he highly doubted it was food- or water- or clothes- or some other thing that would lessen his humiliation.
“Well come on.” Splice demanded. “Let’s try it out.”
Andrew looked down towards his feet- and then stared back at the man from across the room.
“Damn. I didn’t realize how inconvenient this would be.”
“I’m the one with my ankles broken.” Andrew spat. His comment was met with a slap across the face- sending him crashing into his shoulder on the floor. The stinging on his face was quickly drowned out by everything else as the man grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him across the room.
Andrew choked back on the pain- trying to breath through the shuddering gasps and the flares of agony. He felt the familiar end of a knife against his lips- and opened his eyes to see the man holding it out in front of him.
“You will learn to hold your tongue- or I will cut it out for you.”
Andrew swallowed- fury and rage bubbling inside of him like the fire coursing through his legs.
“I thought you liked me defiant.”
Splice took a step back- ignoring the comment and proceeded to grab some things about the room.
“It’s much more of an inconvenience now.”
Andrew felt cold metal lock around his wrists- far too tight to be comfortable, but not enough to cut off circulation. They seemed slightly padded too. Clearly the man intended him to be in these for a while.
“You will learn your place.”
Andrew let out a squeal- letting it die to hiss between his teeth as similar metal cuffs were locked around his swollen ankles. They were tighter than they should’ve been- causing the bruised skin to bubble around the metal like a blister wanting to pop.
He gasped out between breaths as the pain settled down once more, and then flinched with a shiver as cold hands crept around his waist- behind his back and near his stomach. Another band- sitting low against his hips. The man fiddled with it a little as he tried to get it to close but something wasn’t working.
“Did you gain weight?” The man asked in disbelief.
“Considering I actually had people encouraging me to eat, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“Hmm.”
Andrew grunted as his body was manhandled- hips turned to the side as the man struggled with the band. He knelt over the boy and Andrew closed his eyes- trying to imagine any different scenario than the one he was in. He let his mind wander- trailing off- and becoming distant- until he heard chains rattling above him.
He opened his eyes and watched as the man lowered them from the ceiling. They seemed to act like curtain blinds- extending when you pulled down on them- but then locking once they were raised.
It didn’t take long for Andrew to put the puzzle pieces together of what this whole contraption was. Six chains- six metal bands- including the one on his collar.
Andrew was correct in his assumption as each one of the chains pulled down to connect to the certain points of his body. They were nearly identical- except for the one around his waist- the chain branched out into two separate ones- connecting on the sides of his hips before forming back into one up to the ceiling.
He clenched his teeth behind a whimper as a chain was connected to the metal collar. He could feel the prongs digging deeper into his skin as his neck was pulled from the floor.
Splice laughed- the sound bouncing off the walls of the room as he stepped away- moving to the large monitor near the wall. Andrew’s eyes followed him desperately.
“Oh Andy- we’re only just getting started.”
And he felt his body begin to rise in the air.
Instant panic rushed through his chest as he felt his limbs being pulled in all sorts of directions. The flurry of butterflies that settled in his stomach as he completely separated from the ground was only drowned out by his own weight dragging down on his ankles.
His arms were pulled apart- stretched out in a t formation- the rest of him a straight line suspended above the ground.
Splice paced around the boy- running cold fingers along his ribs- down his arms- watching as shivers and goosebumps broke out across his skin. He chuckled to himself as Andrew tried to steady himself behind an uncontrolled whimper.
No wonder Splice had been gone for weeks- this seemed carefully designed and thought out. He didn’t sway- he didn’t really even feel unbalanced- everything was perfectly calculated to his weight, height, and measurements.
It terrified Andrew to realize exactly how much control the man had over him now.
“You see- my favorite part about this little contraption here, is it enables me to access you from all sides.”
Andrew flinched as a cold hand pressed against the small of his back. He was hanging just slightly above the man’s waist- and kept his eyes focused on the ceiling above him as hands trailed across his skin.
“Don- don’t touch me-” He murmured. It was small- and pathetic, but it was all he could do to make himself feel slightly better about the situation.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” The man stated. Andrew’s mouth gaped open- his head lolling backwards in a whine as a hand closed around his ankle. “I’m not the one in chains.”
He felt himself lowered slightly- until he felt his skin brushing against the small platforms- one at the base of his head just right above the collar- another at the small of his back, and the third one near his calves and ankles.
Andrew realized he had no choice except to let his body go limp as Splice continued setting everything up.
“How does it feel? Everything seem pretty stable?”
Andrew responded with a groan as the aches flared up in his body.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
There was a pressure around his bicep followed by a pinprick in his arm and he closed his eyes tight as he felt a needle slide inside his veins. Splice walked around him carefully- tracing a finger along his skin- and soon after there was another pinprick- a pressure and weight- and a small whimper at the thought of what could now be entered into his system.
Small patches were stuck across his chest- leading to cords and wires- monitors and screens. Ensuring Splice could make sure everything went smoothly.
Out of the corner of his eye Andrew could see another round circle of metal. This one had many wires coming from the sides- like antennae on an ant. Splice locked it around Andrew’s head, settling it in his hair and went back to the screen.
He hummed in disappointment, fiddled with a few things, and looked back at the monitor.
“That’s odd- it should be reading things just fine, but I’m not getting any strong brain waves.”
Andrew’s eyes darted to the man, and then closed tightly once more as hands came near his face.
The device was lifted off and set aside, and the man began to card his hands through Andrew’s hair. It was a curly mess- thick and unruly, but was arguably his best- or at least most noticeable feature. He had been growing it out and it hung well around his shoulders- leaving a thick crown of protection between his skull and his curls.
Splice chuckled as he watched Andrew’s face scrunch up at the intimate touch.
The boy’s heart began to pound as he heard the familiar click of the man’s knife being unsheathed. Andrew’s eyes shot open- trying to see what was about to happen.
Before Andrew could protest the knife hacked through the locks of hair without a second thought. Splice grabbed a fistful- carved through the curls, and let the chunks fall to the floor in a pile.
Andrew knew there was no use pleading or begging. Splice was going to get his way- and it was better if Andrew just let him do it. After all, there wasn’t going to be anyone else seeing him anymore, so what did it matter if he was missing chunks of hair?
Tears slid down from the sides of his face as he felt locks being hacked away and dropped in a pile. He tried to control his breathing once more but the sobs came through anyways in hiccuped breaths.
“Aww- don’t worry, it’s just hair.” Splice waved a chunk of it in front of the boy’s face- he tried to turn away. “It’ll grow back.”
“I hate you-” Andrew sobbed.
“It’s only necessary. You’ll learn to appreciate it later.” Andrew winced as another chunk was pulled tight and lopped off. “You’re lucky I didn’t shave you bald- your hair is one of your best features after all. Even if it has lost all of it’s color.”
When the man was done he trailed his fingers through what remained. It was uneven- messy, but it did what it was supposed to as the device finally worked correctly.
“We’re almost done.” The man cooed- trailing his fingers around the curve of the boys face. His pointer finger rested on Andrew’s lips carefully prying them apart. “Open up.” He ordered.
A large, funnel-shaped piece of plastic was placed inside his jaw. It wedged behind his teeth, pressing his tongue down and keeping his lips spread.
“This is the important part so I need you to hold still.”
It’s not like Andrew had much of a choice- but he tried to calm his shaking limbs as his head was arched backwards.
Andrew couldn’t have described the feeling of what happened next, even if he wanted to.
Something slid down his throat- a tube- feeling slimy and rough as he choked. His body knew this was wrong- it was telling him that it wasn’t supposed to be there- but there was nothing he could do. Splice fiddled with the tube- connecting it to the guard in his mouth and grabbed another tool- something that looked to be a long thing string of metal. Like the drain snakes with the claw on the end to pull hair out of the bathtub.
It had some weird contraption at the end that Andrew couldn’t make out.
“You can breathe- you’re alright.” The man reassured.
It took Andrew a second to realize that yes- he could still breathe. The air hissed raspy through his throat but his lungs still pumped just fine.
“Now- it is very vital that you continue breathing just as you should. Just stay relaxed, and breathe deep.” The man leaned down, holding the object a few inches from Andrew’s face as he whispered in his ear. “If you don’t, this is bound to hurt a lot worse.”
Andrew whimpered, and sent all the signals he could- closed his eyes tight and tried his best to breathe steady- ignoring whatever the man was going to do with his body next.
He felt the pressure going down his throat, inside the tube until it came out at the bottom inside of his chest.
Feeling something moving where it shouldn’t is indescribable.
Worse than feeling your broken bones shift underneath your skin. Worse than being cut open- lying awake with your insides exposed to the world- (at least that time he had been hyped up on a slew of drugs). This was far worse.
He felt the end of the tool- the end of something- wiggling around as the man bent over him, watching the screen.
Finally there was a burning sensation across his lungs. It was like they were being grabbed from the inside and lit on fire- or crushed in someone’s hand.
He found that he couldn’t scream.
As much as his heart began to pound- he was surprised that his breathing became normal.
Panic flooded all his senses and his lungs wanted to beat in time with his heart, but something wouldn’t allow them. He could barely cry or gasp- any attempt sent the same- crushing pain- coursing inside of him- and his breathing would soon returned to steady.
“Oh, I’m sure it feels a little strange for now, but you’ll get used to it.”
Andrew’s eyes darted to the man- as if pleading for an answer.
Splice spoke as he worked- his hands moving quickly around the boy.
“The machine is essentially breathing for you. The monitors and other machines will regulate everything else. Your body temperature- your nutrition- etc. It will keep you alive- so I can perform the experiments I need to.”
Andrew’s eyes clenched tight as the pain burst through him again- his breathing quickly slowing back down. Splice completed the ensemble with a guard over his face- covering his nose and mouth- the tubes threaded through the middle.
“I’ll administer some drugs and fluids, and then give you a few hours alone to get adjusted before we continue with what I have planned.”
The man carded his fingers gently through Andrew’s hair as he began inserting the drugs into the iv. The boy’s eyes stared up with a crushing amount of fear- and desperation. Unable to move- unable to breathe on his own. They were welled with tears that leaked from his face- but no sobs came through.
He closed his eyes once more- trying to relax into the submission the machine was demanding from him as the man walked out of the room, turning off the lights and leaving Andrew alone in the dark.
“Enjoy your new friend.”
And then there was nothing but the beeping of the machines- and the pounding of his own heart.
Whumpee is forced into a sack and tossed into a river to drown
“No, no—let go of me!” the whumpee screams, thrashing desperately. Their wrists are cinched together with zip ties, the plastic digging into the soft skin of their forearms, but their legs are free, so they kick out with all their might.
“Cut it out,” the whumper grunts, holding the burlap sack open with one hand—their other hand is curled around the whumpee’s upper arm, trying to maneuver them into the bag. The whumpee digs their heels into the dirt, resisting like their life depends on it—and it does. Just a few paces away, the river rushes fast, deep and deadly. The whumper has finally decided to get rid of them once and for all.
“I said let go!” the whumpee shouts as loud as they can, hoping someone will hear their frantic cries and save them from their doom.
With a growl of frustration, the whumper loops one arm around their waist and picks them right up off the ground.
“Put me down!” the whumpee yells, flailing wildly, but it’s too late. In a show of strength, the whumper dips them backward, tipping them over so they fall headfirst into the bag. The top of their skull bangs against the rocky embankment, and they’re momentarily stunned. Before they can gather their bearings, the whumper ties the other end of the sack shut. The world goes black.
Panic overwhelms the whumpee’s senses. They struggle as hard as they can, but they can’t get the bag open. The whumper hoists them over their shoulder and starts to walk.
“Please, no, no, you don’t have to do this!” the whumpee shrieks. “Please!”
The roar of the river grows louder. The whumpee is choking on their own breaths, sobbing. “Please, I’ll do anything, please don’t kill—!”
The whumpee’s sentence is cut off with a splash as they’re tossed into the river. The sack is almost instantly flooded, and they tumble in current, drowning in the cold, dark water.
Bee can’t take his eyes off his friend. Cee is strapped down to a metal table, gagged and sporting a black eye. It’s Bee’s fault they’re here. Cee came to rescue him, but Whumper caught them, and now his friend is in mortal danger and it’s all his fault.
“I’m so glad you decided to join us.” Whumper claps their hands together, pleased, and smiles down cordially at Cee. “You know what they say.” They ruffle Cee’s tousled hair, and Cee snarls behind the tape sealed over their mouth. “Two is better than one.”
Whumper turns then, redirecting all of their attention to their original captive. “Don’t you think so, Bee?”
Bee stiffens, tearing his eyes away from Cee and meeting his tormentor’s gaze.
“Let them go,” Bee whispers, tears already gathering in the corners of his wide, frightened eyes. “Please, let them go.”
Whumper’s smile broadens, and they approach their captive. Bee is shirtless, wearing nothing but the bloody shorts he’s worn for the entire duration of his imprisonment thus far, and his hands are bound above his head with coarse rope. He tugs uselessly on the restraints, wishing he could run over to his friend and protect them from whatever horrible plans Whumper surely has in store.
“Oh,Bee,” Whumper says, almost pityingly. “As much as I adore your pleading, we’ve already been over this. Your friend is going to be staying here with us. They came all this way for you, and you want to turn them away?” Whumper shakes their head, “I know I taught you better than that.”
Whumper moves closer, leaving hardly any space between them, and Bee swallows hard, thoroughly intimidated by his captor’s proximity.
“I’m sorry,” Bee says quickly, his voice rising in pitch. “I’m sorry, just please don’t—”
“You’regoing to be sorry,” Whumper corrects, tone suddenly harsh, and Bee flinches. His torturer leans forward, their lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “You’re going to be sorry you ever dared to wish for someone to take you from me.”
Bee shivers, every muscle tensed. He knows Whumper’s words are as much a promise as a threat.
“Here are the rules,” Whumper begins, signaling the start of what Bee assumes will be a horrible, twisted game. They grab his chin, forcing him to meet their eyes. “Listen carefully so you don’t fuck it up.”
Bee nods frantically, and Whumper, seemingly pleased, slips behind him and squeezes his cheeks, forcibly directing his gaze toward Cee.
“Now, see your little friend over there? Look above them.” They steer his gaze upward to a heavy stone slab suspended in the air, dangling from the ceiling. The rock is bundled in a net of rope, and Bee’s heart stops when he realizes it’s positioned directly above Cee’s legs.
All the breath leaves his body in a horrified exhale. “No.”
He can feel Whumper’s malicious grin. “I’ve rigged it up so you—” Whumper yanks Bee’s head back, their hand tangled in his hair, his neck strained. They guide his eyes to where the rope tied around his wrists connects to a pulley system, “—are the only thing keeping that thing in the air. If you fall to the floor, well…” Whumper lets go of Bee, and, with both hands now free, they smack their hands together in a gruesome representation of what will happen if the rock drops. “It’s a bit like pulling a pin from a grenade, if that helps you wrap your mind around it.”
Bee feels as if he’s going to be sick. He meets Cee’s eyes, and his friend stares back at him, their defiance apparent in the set of their jaw. They might not be afraid, but Bee… he knows a weight that heavy, falling from that high up, will destroy their legs.
Whumper snaps suddenly, looking as if they remembered something they’d almost forgotten. “Oh, and I’m going to whip you. Your back could use some more scars, and I’d like to show our guest what we get up to around here. You don’t mind, do you?”
Bee gapes at his captor wordlessly, stunned.
“I can’t do it,” Bee whimpers, already defeated. “Please don’t make me—it’ll kill them, I can’t—!”
“Of course you can,” Whumper reassures. “I believe in you.” They pinch his cheek a little too hard. “My resilient little Bee.”
“Ican’t!” Bee protests. Whumper steps away and heads toward their rack of instruments. “Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt them!”
Whumper uncoils the single tail whip and slaps it against the cement floor. Bee flinches at the sound and the promise of pain, his breath speeding up as his tormentor circles him like a shark would its prey. Bee catches Cee’s eyes, and his friend gives him a little nod as if to say “it’s alright.”
“I won’t hurt them, Bee,” Whumper says conversationally, standing somewhere behind him where he can’t see. “You will.”
And without further preamble, the whip cracks against the bare skin of his back. Bee bites back a shout, jerking forward and arching his back in an instinctual attempt to escape the bite. He hardly has a second to react before the next blow comes, and the next, and the next. The strikes follow each other in quick succession, relentless. It’s mere minutes before Bee is trembling, his legs quivering violently, his wobbly knees threatening to give. He jolts and struggles, trying to escape the reach of the whip, barely containing his anguished yells behind grit teeth.
“Tired already?” Whumper taunts, pausing for a second. Bee can feel their breath on the back of his neck, and he winces when their nails scrape the welts forming across his shoulder blades. “You must not care for your friend very much.”
Bee grimaces. They have to be strong. For Cee.
Whumper chuckles and steps back, starting up again. They bring the whip down hard, the sound echoing throughout the room, louder than Bee’s suppressed wails and Cee’s muffled curses. He squeezes his eyes shut, his toes curling.
“You’re such a disappointment, you weak little thing.” Pain blossoms across his back and shoulders, and tears slip down his flushed cheeks. Whumper sounds euphoric. “C’mon, darling, scream for me.”
Bee, fully aware of his audience, tries his best to keep his reactions contained, but as the longer it goes on, the more his control starts to slip. Breathing heavily through his nose, he bites through his bottom lip, blood dribbling down his chin. Snot-nosed and gasping, he weeps openly. His back is onfire.
“Beautiful,” Whumper purrs. The whip curls over his shoulder, and Bee yelps. “But I told you to scream, Bee.”
Whumper doubles their efforts, and soon Bee feels the skin of his back split open, hot blood spilling forth. He’s so dizzy with pain that he doesn’t even realize he’s shrieking.
“Stop, stop! Please, please, I-I can’t, it hurts, I can’t!”
Whumper doesn’t let up. Bee wavers on his feet, screaming and begging for mercy, and then—
His legs give out, his willpower depleted. Despite his best efforts, he can’t withstand the torture. He sinks to his knees, his arms nearly yanked from their sockets as he drops to the floor. After the initial force of crumbling to the ground, the line of rope falls with him, no longer taut. Through the haze of tears and agony, Bee remembers that he was supposed to stay upright… but why?
CW: unicorn centaur whumpee, it as a pronoun, blood, manhandling, capture, treated like a wild animal
The Unicorn
A loud commotion drew people out of their homes and toward the gates of the town. Outside the walls was a frightening and wild place that held the most ferocious and the most beautiful beasts humans had ever seen. Now something new was brought within the safety of those high timber and stone walls.
CW: unicorn centaur whumpee, it as a pronoun, blood, manhandling, capture, treated like a wild animal
The Unicorn
A loud commotion drew people out of their homes and toward the gates of the town. Outside the walls was a frightening and wild place that held the most ferocious and the most beautiful beasts humans had ever seen. Now something new was brought within the safety of those high timber and stone walls.
As a crowd formed and compacted, a boy pushed his way through the nearly impenetrable wall of people to get a better look. The hunters had brought a brilliant prize with them, a creature that seemed to step right out of their stories and legends.
Symon wondered if his eyes deceived him as he saw a unicorn for the first time, a creature of legend and myth was now right in front of him. It was nearly unbelievable, an elaborate hoax or maybe a decadent hallucination thought up by men who wailed their conspiracies. Yet, he knew how the carvings and art looked, it was a spitting image of the beast of spoken story. Staring in awe at it only made his mind wander, perhaps this was all wrong, a creature this magnificent had no business being here amongst them.
As he watched it strain and thrash against the ropes that bound it, restricting its already limited movement, the creature’s legs buckled and sent it crashing into the dirt below. The unicorn’s shining white coat now stained with debris and blood and its once silky looking hair had become knotted and mangled. Symon could smell the hatred from this being, wild eyes on hyper alert as it tried and failed to bring itself back up. It was vulnerable on the ground, good as dead and it knew it.
The longer he looked, the more he truly began to try and piece this creature together. It sounded unreal, the torso and head of a man and below the waist was the rest of a horse with a glittering golden horn protruding from its forehead. But he knew his eyes were correct in their observation, the beast was real, and it looked frightened. How did such a beautiful and mysterious being end up in his town, seeing it made his heart ache. That ache coaxed his hand from his side, reaching out toward the bruised and panicked beast.
“Symon! Don’t you move another inch toward that thing, it’ll kill ya in one move.” The familiar bark of his father’s voice snapped him back to reality.
“Yes sir, sorry.” He said before glancing back at the trembling and terrified unicorn.
Before he could truly react to what was happening, cold steel chain was woven around the unicorn’s hind legs, a mule ahead of it began to make toward the stables where the beast would likely live as a prisoner. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, similar to the soup mother gave them when they fell ill. The chains rattled as the unicorn found an ounce more of fight within it and its thrashing began again. It didn’t deserve to live out its life here and he intended to do what he could to help it get back home. Now only a trail was left in the dirt and mud, spots of blood and tufts of the unicorn’s white hair was left.
The town was left back to its usual bustle, as if a legendary beast hadn’t just been brought into the town. Something about that creature tugged at his very soul and he slowly began to follow the trail of blood and mud that had been left behind.
I’m looking for the perfect sex attire. The one in which a woman would instantly give me a boner. I have multiple fetishes, that is my curse. “The devil is in the details”, as they say. And you’ll see every detail counts for what I seek. I love women dressed like whores, but it’s more subtle than it really sounds… Call me J.P. Gaultier for streetwalking.
Look at this. I mean, look. She’s dressed for sex and I love that. I’d say there’s no trying to look classy or anything, just sex.
It’s not perfect though but the intent is where it should be.
I’m not too fond of pink+black, but I sure love both colours. Bad Barbie vibes.
Flashy make-up, even flashier nails. Look at this yellow highlight among all this barbie pink… That’s just pure trash, I love it. Even though those nails are a bit too long for my taste. Those hands are decorated to stroke dick. And I don’t want to feel nails on my knob.
I like the jewellery, this bracelet must surely make some noise when you manhandle her.
The pink boots are not my fave, but the form is great. Simple, pretty-womanish, beautiful. Heels length is on point. Stockings, garter belts, flashy pcv miniskirt, all for it. Pure hooker style.
I always have a thing for black hair, straight hairline even though they look a bit rough here.
I picture the marks such painted lips would make on my cock and I love it. My girl wears that much lipstick and I just can’t listen to her without thinking of fucking her mouth.
Let’s adress the bad points : the corset could be cool, but I don’t know if it does not fit her or if there’s a problem with her pose, because the peek at the belly is a big no no. I love bellies and curves, I love fat even, don’t get me wrong, but a bit of flesh that shows timidly like this does not look right, it looks out of place. Just like the belly of a truck driver that would show between his shirt and pants. Not perfect.
Last but not least, pink eyelid shadows are sexy as Fuck but I don’t like the over-lining of the eyes. It either makes you look cougarish, mean or just straight like an owl. I figure the “mean effect” could be sought by femdommes. But even though I love latex, I’m not attracted to female domination so ♂️
Overall, this attire on this woman is a solid 7,5/10. Would definitely fuck someone in that, and hard.
She was the kind of girl that came with handles. He liked that.
The elastic in the waistband of a pair of panties, a makeshift bungee that he could use to have her bounce right back to him.
Her hair tied, but not done up, so there was a good handhold that he could use as a leash, or a purchase. She didn’t mind which.
Tassels, ribbons, belts, laces, anything she could wear on her clothes that afforded him something to grab hold of, lead her around with, whether she wanted it or not.
It took a lot of forethought, orchestrating these little things.
