#boxboy universe

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Sam on the drip.

#whump #whump art #whump animation #pet whump #pet whumpee #facility whump #box boy whump #boxboy whump #boxboy #boxboys #box boy #box boys #box boy universe #boxboy universe #bbu #sam the medic #look at the fancy camera movement #so fancy

[highwaywhump]

Febuwhump day 2

soo... probably (definitely) not going to finish this event on time (if at all). my workload suddenly doubled this semester but here's something at least. for febuwhump day 2 i have tried to get to know my nameless guard dog. here's his origin story, starting about 20 years prior to joey's story

CW/TW: captivity, collars/chains, forced drugging, controlled food intake, pet whump/bbu in general

--

“He’s not breaking.” 

“He will.” 

“60 says he won’t.” 

“90 says he will.” 

“Shut up, both of you.” 

The two junior handlers snap their mouths shut, turning away from the monitor and towards senior handler Kerry. He’s leaning back in his office chair, unbothered, flipping through a quarterly report on customer success rates. His numbers are good, as usual. In fact, there’s an upwards trend. If it continues like this over the summer, there will undoubtedly be another raise beginning to rear its head from the deep, deep waters of this facility. 

Kerry glances at the monitor. Nothing’s changed since he glanced at it last, 20 minutes ago. Nearly nothing’s changed since the feed started rolling, six days ago. He returns to his paperwork again, after sparing a pointed look at his two supposed protegees. They both hurriedly look down at their own paperwork, studying training manuals, only sneaking glances at the monitor when they don’t think Kerry’s looking. But he sees them every time. He absentmindedly clicks his pen and longingly recalls the days when corporal punishment in the workplace - in this workplace, at least - was still allowed. 

They sit for another hour or so before Kerry announces that they’ll break for lunch with a grunt, and the junior handlers scurry off to the cafeteria while he unpacks his own meticulously made sandwich. The little domestic taking up space in his laundry room sure knows her stuff, he thinks as he angles the monitor a little, finally allowing himself a closer look now that the twin idiots are gone. 

The idea of pets taking on the role as personal security isn’t new, at least not in practice. Rich assholes who think the world revolves around them have always wanted dedicated security. The Guard Dog type, however, is quite new. The specimen on the monitor is only the third generation, and a young generation at that. He was brought in only two weeks ago, a mean fucker just dishonorably discharged, with a glint in his eye and blood on his knuckles. 

Well. A tether slightly too high up on the wall and a high-powered cold water hose took care of at least one of those problems. As for his unpleasant disposition … Kerry was doing something about that right now. Had been, for the last six days. And the project was just beginning to bear the flowers which eventually would become fruits. 

The previous two generations had been too volatile, too easy to make lash out, and not only at potential threats. WRU could only pay out so much hush money before the media had started to notice. The third generation had to be perfect, and Kerry was one of a small group of handlers who had been served the task. A delicate mission to snuff out every little spark and flame inside the beasts and then create new, tailor-made gas flames in their wake, perfectly controllable and able to be extinguished by the flick of a verbal switch. A killer robot of flesh and blood. 

The monitor showed 603-014 sitting against the wall, arms around his bowed head, very slightly shifting his weight back and forth. Kerry almost thought he could see a crescent shape in the floor surrounding him, as if his pacing (of which there was less and less, these days) had created a track in the floor. The nine feet of chain extending from his collar to a ring in the wall contained him like a mean junkyard dog at the end of a rope. 

He hadn’t been outside the crescent in a week, much less outside his cell. 

In the same period, he hadn’t seen a single other human. Nothing but the same four white walls and his own tethered body. After two days of screaming and crying and cursing and begging he’d lost his voice, and it was still only a hoarse and gravelly whimpering that would come through the speakers if Kerry decided to turn on the sound. 

He glanced at his watch. It was soon time for 014’s daily prescribed five hour nap and his allotted 1300 calories - served in a dog bowl, of course. The two goons could do it, he figured, as he considered his own reuben sandwich, which seemed too good to leave right now. As if summoned by his thoughts, the two of them shuffled into his office, each holding a steaming hot styrofoam container. 

“Great timing,” Kerry announced, not even allowing them time to set their food down. “Time for some practical training. 014 needs his daily rest and nourishment.” 

“Handler Kerry-!”

“I trust you remember where the respiratory gear is,” he broke them off merrily as he reached for the control board mounted on his desk, which controlled every environmental condition in every cell he was responsible for. As they begrudgingly set their food down and removed themselves from his office, he found the right switch and pushed it down. The big lug would be sleeping blissfully in a few minutes, and Kerry would get to watch his mentees undoubtedly fuck up even the simple task of correctly fitting a gas mask on themselves before entering a room filled with anesthetic gas. 

It would be lunch and a show.

--

@simplygrimly @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @briars7 @hackles-up @doveotions @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @kixngiggles @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @whumpthisway @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumping-snail @pumpkin-spice-whump @pigeonwhumps @whumplr-reader @considerablecolors @dustypinetree @snakebites-and-ink

#again with the verb tenses........ #cw captivity #cw collar #cw forced drugging #cw controlled food intake #pet whump #bbu #boxboy universe #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday2 #my nameless guard dog

[whumpinthepot]

Grime: what has been their lowest point?

Grit: what's the most painful thing they've endured?

For whoever you want! :)

From this ask game thx!

Cw: pet whump, BBU adjacent, munchousen by proxy, horn amputation, death, murder, broken bones ment, sickness, poisoning

I’m going to choose Clarence baby… Oop these are both the same answer practically

Grime: what has been their lowest point

Their lowest point mentally was when they lived with Haa after their Master was killed by him. They were scared and depressed and spent most of their time hiding in the house somewhere. They were convinced that Haa was going to kill them too.

They were also veeeerrryyyyy upset about promising to be Abby’s pet instead of Mouse’s. It’s against the rules, possibly illegal and could get them mind wiped if the pet trainers found out. Not to mention they love Mouse the most out of anyone and they don’t want to be Abby’s pet because she’s an evil serial killer 😧

Grit: what’s the most painful thing they’ve endured

Im going to have to say psychologically, it was seeing their old master, Bob, be assassinated in front of them and then being snatched by the same assassin (Haa) who they just watched murder their Master…

Physically let me think mhh… Honestly it either happened with their old Master Bob, or with the pet trainers before Clarence was given to Mouse. Probably with Bob though unfortunately.

I do like to daydream about their horns being cut off but I just can’t. I can’t do it, I haven’t done it in canon because their horns are just so cute and that would traumatize them so badly…

With Bob it was probably broken bones, or being poisoned and almost dying from how sick it made them. They were poisoned a LOT, so much they thought it was a chronic illness that couldn’t be cured.

#whump ask game #oc ask game #breezy’s post #rats race #clarence #clarences story #bob #haa #mouse #abby #whump #pet whump #boxboy #boxboy universe #breezy answers

[whereallthewhumpgoes]

Pet Recovery Counter-Conditioning Phrases

"I am my own person. I am allowed to prioritize my own needs and assert my own boundaries."

"I belong to myself and only myself."

"I deserve to be loved by others, touched gently, and treated with compassion."

(Romantic specific) "My body is mine. No one is allowed to do anything to my body against my will."

"I am a human being, and I am entitled to human rights, such as food, water, and sleep. My needs are not a privilege that I have to earn, they are human rights, and I will fulfill them when necessary."

"I can think for myself and take care of myself."

"I am a human being, not a slave. I am under no obligation to obey anyone's command."

"What happened to me was unjust. I did not deserve to be abused by my former master, and I will not tolerate abuse from them or anyone else."

"I am a good person."

"I have a right to be treated with dignity."

"I am not worthless. I have value apart from my master's attention."

(Romantic specific) "I am allowed to say no."

(Guard dog specific) "I am not a monster. In the past, I acted to protect myself, and I will continue to protect myself with or without my master."

"My rescuers are not a threat. My rescuers do not want to hurt me. My rescuers are safe people."

"If I am ever mistreated, I will report it to my rescuers as soon as possible."

"I do not need to lie to protect myself."

"I am allowed to love myself."

"I am encouraged to form relationships with the other recovered pets, and they will not be hurt if I interact with them."

(Bonded pair specific) "I do not need to protect my bond. I do not need to depend on my bond. My bond and I are our own people, and I am allowed to develop my own interests and take care of myself before my bond."

"I am a person, not a pet."

#i saw that one conditioned boxboy phrases lore post and it gave me some ideasies #conditioned whumpee #pet whump #box boy universe #box boy whump #recovery whump #implied past noncon #very very vaguely #i mean some of the deconditioning phrases are romantic specific and there are Things that happen to romantics in the lore so #implied past torture #implied past abuse

[whumpzone]

Linden wondering what kind of Pet Col was before his old Master is making me really exited for when (/if??) the shoe drops that no, Col never went through any WRU training because he was picked straight up from the streets into the basement :))

Yessssss poor Linden has no idea how bad it really is! 🤭🤭🤭

it is a when, not if, don't worry about that! It's coming >:)

#my story isnt actually a boxboy/WRU universe story #but i know exactly what you mean #asks #anon

[celestiachan]

HELLO???

#xenon screams #kirby #boxboy #boxboxboy #3ds #the fucking lore implications this has #there are eldritch beings in the boxboy universe. there is a land inhabited entirely by cubes in the kirby universe. #also this comic's description was ''qbby impersonates his hero'' #also the implication that there is colour. you the player just don't get to see it. unless it's green ig #actually. what if qbby was everything except green colourblind. that doesn't make any sense

[whump-blog]

What does BBU mean?

@aetherblackpotter

Hii First I love the art ! Just, I'm new, can you explain to me what "BBU whum" mean ? I know about Whumpee/Whumper but I don't know about bbu...

Glad you like my art and thanks for the question. And because the answer can be a bit complex I decided to answer it in this separate post.

So BBU stands for Box Boy Universe, which is a sandbox within the whump community.

The BBU is basically a modern world setting in which slavery is legalised and people can sell their freedom to the WRU to become slaves.

The WRU is a company in charge of erasing the memory of people who sign a contract with them to become slaves/pets (with the promise of a better future) and train them in their facilities to be the perfect pet for their future owner.

BoxBoys/Babes can be trained in different designations such as Platonic, Domestics, Romantics or Guard Dogs.

(The thing is, there have been rumours of people disappearing and reappearing as BoxBoys. People who haven't signed contracts with the WRU, but the WRU is a trusted company, those must just be rumours)

In this same universe there is also a movement against the WRU and in favour of the liberation of the Box Boys, ordinary people who do not agree with the company and the obvious abusive situations suffered by those who sign contracts with them.

If you have any further questions, please do not hesitate to ask me. Maybe I'm not very good at explaining haha.

If you are interested you can read my main story set in the BBU here or here I have a recommendation list where you can find other authors who write in the BBU.

By the way some writers in the whump community write something called pet whump which is similar to the BBU but without the WRU aspect and the specific elements of the universe. For example @whumpzone's story here or @sideblogformindtrash's story here.

#whump #whump community #bbu whump #bbu #box boy universe #bbu worldbuilding #worldbuilding #ask #answered ask #aetherblackpotter #whump writing

[dustypinetree-reblogs]

My Masterlist of Favourite Works, so I can reread them whenever~

——————————————————

• Pet Whump:

1: WRU: Pet 205-843 (No official title) — 29 Chapters &C (Ryan/843/Pet/Joey - Human Pet, Pet Whumpee, BoxBoy Universe, WRU, Extreme Conditioning, Dehumanisation, Institutionalised Slavery, Physical Whump, Medical Whump, Compliance, Sir/Master/Handler, Reluctant Caretaker, Regression)

Written by @highwaywhump

-

-

-

2: Unintentional — 25 Chapters &C (Whumpee = Aiden/839, Clueless Caretaker = Leo - Human Pet, Pet Whumpee, BoxBoy Universe, WRU, Trauma, Recovery, Experimentation, Drugging, Dehumanisation, Institutionalised Slavery, Medical Whump, Conditioning)

Written by @distinctlywhumpthing

——————————————————

• Captive Whump:

1: In The Woods Somewhere — 36 chapters (Whumpee = Buck, Whumper = Fletcher - Held Captive, Torture, Physical Whump, Mental Whump, Violence, Stockholm Syndrome, Training Camp, Whumper Turned Caretaker)

Written by @knivestothroats

-

-

-

2) Behave — xx Chapters (Medical Whump, Hospital Whump, Drugging, Experimentation, Whumper Turned Caretaker)

Written by @jordanstrophe

-

-

-

3) The Basement Whumper — xx Chapters (Torture Whump, Sadistic Whumper, Violent Whump, Captive Whump)

Written by @jordanstrophe

-

-

-

——————————————————

• Uncategorised:

1: MD-264N — 13 Chapters &C (Living Weapon, Dehumanisation, Conditioning, Whumpee Escape, Caretaker)

Written by @pigeonwhumps

-

-

-

2: A White Rose — xx Chapters (Non-Human, Kidnapped, Put On Display, Physical Whump, Loss)

Written by @itsleighlove

-

-

-

#whump writing #whump community #whump fic #whumper #whumpee #conditioned whumpee #whumpee and caretaker #bbu whump #pet whump #pet whump bbu #cw wru #medical whump #torture whump #sadistic whumper #noncon drugging #conditioning #dehumanisation

[boxboysandotherwhump]

This is a still from Sam’s drip animation. So you guys can see it in full :3

#whump #whump art #pet whump #boxboy #boxboys #box boy #box boys #box boy universe #boxboy whump #box boy whump #pet whumpee #art #whumpee #bbu #boxboy universe #sam the medic

[highwaywhump]

A sickfic because I’m weak

This is a series, masterlist here!

Joey has a nasty fever and Aaron doesn’t know what to do. His last resort poses a new problem for him. 

This isn’t particularly good but my writing juices are running short. As usual, I’m not a medical professional so just roll with the flow on this one

CW/TW: Fever, fever aches, slight hallucination but like in passing not in detail, talk/description of scars, bruises, and broken bones, pet whumpee/conditioned whumpee. Tell me if I missed any! 

-

Joey knew what pain was. He wasn’t trained for it, but over the months he’d learned to expect it, to handle it, to get over it. But this… this was nothing like anything he’d ever felt before. 

Every single part of his body was aching, right into his bones. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. Opening his eyes and looking around the room hurt. Thinking hurt.

As a result he lay still as stone, trying to will his muscles to relax. 

He was hot too, so hot that his face and back was wet with sweat, but even still he was shivering. The friction the bed sheets created against his skin stung. Was he sick? He couldn’t be, not with how Sir always made sure the heat was on, always fed him, always checked his injuries and gave him the pain pills. 

He’d woken up early that morning and since then he had floated between a state of semi-consciousness and total black outs brought on by the extreme fatigue he felt. There were hazy memories of full-body pain in the back of his mind. The stinging end of a leather belt. The inconceivable full body spasm from a shock collar set too high. The white-hot headache brought on by a strap around his neck being pulled. Barrages of hitting and kicking hands and feet. And yet none of it was like this. He wanted to cry, and tears ran silently from his eyes, but there was nothing cathartic about it. He was too weak to even cry properly. 

A sharp knife cut through the blissful darkness that finally had overtaken his brain. He winced, and winced again, because wincing hurt. 

It was the phone that Sir had given to him, ringing. Joey was still reserved towards it. Holding it in his hand and feeling the weight of it felt familiar, but distant, like he had been used to holding one in a previous life. And it was the matter of not being able to read, too. Sir’s contact was saved with two little picture icons, a mild smiley face and a cat. 

So you know it’s me who’s calling, Sir had said. Smiley face because I’m always  happy to talk to you. And Dolly’s there too. 

Joey sucked in a breath and fought his own body screaming at him to stay still so that he could reach out and grasp the phone from the bedside table. Just stretching his arm out was a battle against himself. At last he could feel the slick glass and metal thing between his fingers. It felt like pulling on a boulder as he retrieved his arm, fingers spasmodically holding on.

He glanced at its bright screen and immediately regretted it when a sharp pain shot up between his eyes. Still, he managed to register the smiley face and the cat - as if anyone else had this number - and clicked the green button, pushing the phone against his ear. He produced a hoarse sound he hoped resembled “Good morning, Sir,” and suppressed a cough right after, the muscles in his chest constricting painfully.

“Afternoon, more like,” Sir answered, sounding chipper as always. 

Joey licked his chapped lips. It took more time and effort than he thought it would. “Yes, Sir,” he finally muttered.

“You okay, Joey?” Sir asked, his voice turning concerned. “You don’t sound too good.”

Joey knit his brows together, which didn’t help his headache. He didn’t want Sir to worry. He was sure he could sleep this off, whatever this was, before Sir got off work and went home. If his body could just decide whether it was too hot or too cold, and if the pain in his muscles could pull back a little bit, and maybe if he’d had a glass of water for his dry throat…

“Joey? Please answer me. Are you okay?”

Joey blinked. He’d taken too long to answer. 

“I-” he started, not sure what he wanted to say. He wasn’t okay, far from it, but he much less wanted to bother Sir. 

“Joey-”

“No,” he whispered. He didn’t mean to break Sir off, that was practically a mortal sin, but the word had just slipped out of him. 

“No, you’re not okay?” Sir asked to clarify. His voice was serious. 

Joey nodded, winced, and then remembered that Sir couldn’t see him. “‘m not okay,” he whispered hoarsely. One part of him couldn’t believe his own insolence, the other part was somehow grateful he crossed the line.

“Okay, Joey. Thank you for telling me. I’ll come home.”

“No, no, d-don’t-” he started, and he wanted to add don’t inconvenience yourself for me, but the words jumbled together in his cotton dry mouth. 

“You’re in bed, I hope? Please stay there. I’ll be home in 30 minutes.” 

Joey realized he couldn’t say anything to stop Sir from interrupting his important work just to come home to him. “Okay, Sir,” he whimpered instead. And deep inside, he was happy that he wouldn’t be alone in this horrible pain anymore. 

-

Aaron lightly knocked on the door to Joey’s bedroom. Nobody answered. “Joey?” he ventured softly as he carefully pushed the door open. 

The room was mostly dark, only lit up by a strip of sunlight shining through the half-closed curtains. The bed was illuminated by a golden glow that highlighted the ruffled sheets, the bunched up pillows, and the curled up shape with a mop of dark hair that made up Aarons ward.

He looked fast asleep, maybe dreaming. His skin was paler than before, if that was even possible, and covered with a light film of sweat. His forehead and dark brows furrowed and his lips twitched slightly like he was about to say something. Aaron didn’t have to feel his forehead to make a diagnosis, but did so anyway. His skin was scorching hot to the touch. 

“Hey, Joey,” he said softly and sat down on the edge of the bed. He carefully took his hand, intending to wake him slowly, but the boy whimpered and grasped at Aaron’s hand like his life depended on it. And maybe it did, in his mind. 

“I should have checked on you before I left for work,” he muttered as he took Joey’s frail, clammy hand in both of his and held it in his lap. The barcode tattoo on his wrist stood out like ugly pavement shining through snow, surrounded by little, circular scars. Aaron hid it with his fingers, refocusing his gaze on Joey’s face. “How are you feeling, Joey?”

“Hurts,” the boy whimpered miserably, his eyes still tightly closed. Aaron reminded himself to close the curtains after. 

“What hurts?” he asked, trying to get a look at the boy’s collar bone. It looked like it always had - swollen, bruised and red, but the skin unbroken - but still Aaron worried it somehow had gotten infected and brought up the boy’s temperature. 

“Everything,” Joey whispered weakly. His chest moved up and down quickly, but shallowly.

“I think you have a fever, sweetheart,” Aaron said softly, rubbing a circle with his thumb into the back of Joey’s hand. “A pretty high one, at that. Do you think you can get down some water and Tylenol?”

He whimpered again, more urgently this time. Aaron didn’t know whether to interpret it as confirmation or refusal. Still, he gently placed Joey’s hand back where it had lay on the bed and got up to leave. “I’ll go get some.”

Just as he passed through the doorway he heard the weak, hoarse whisper behind him. 

“Yes, master.”

Through gritted teeth Aaron told himself it was fever dreams, hallucinations, some awful trick the boy’s imagination had played him and went downstairs to find the medicine cabinet. 

-

Aaron called in sick the next day and spent the long hours hovering near Joey’s room. 

At noon he had read every single health blog he could find and all of them had different advice on what to do. Cool him down, heat him up, let him sweat it out - they only agreed on rest and hydration. So Aaron did exactly that; Stopped by his room every hour or so to hold a glass of water to his chapped lips, otherwise leaving him alone as best he could. 

As he sat on the floor in the hall outside Joey’s room, Dolly neatly perched beside him, he hoped the fever would go away on its own. Still, at the back of his mind, he churned over who he’d call if it didn’t break soon. 

A regular hospital wouldn’t take him in unless he could somehow convince them he was a brother or nephew or family friend. It was a challenge Aaron could pull off easily, but Joey was in no condition to lie like that. And it was the issue of his injuries, the broken bones and bruises, the tattoo… any self respecting nurse would call the police the second they stepped foot inside the door, no matter how convincing the brother-act was. 

They had clinics for pets, but he didn’t trust them if the treatment Joey had gotten at the shelter was anything to go by. He went as far as researching high-end private options, which he suspected would be more lenient with the painkillers and the like, but promptly crossed out the window when he came to the Guidelines-part of the page. 

All pets - patients and visiting - must be collared and leashed at all times. First-time patients at our clinic must be muzzled during the entirety of their stay. No patients are entitled to time outside unless permitted by one of our medical professionals. And the list went on. 

Aaron shut his laptop and sighed. Dolly chirped. 

“Yeah?” he muttered, reaching out and scratching her behind the ear. “You think Simmons would take this on?” 

She purred loudly in reply. 

He wasn’t entirely out of options yet, it was just that it wasn’t that tempting to risk any of his clients’ loyalty or his own reputation. But Simmons seemed like the most likely to not hang up and sever all personal and professional ties immediately. 

“Can’t hurt to try,” Aaron muttered as he pulled out his phone, one hand still scratching Dolly’s ears.

-

As it turned out, Simmons didn’t mind at all. 

When speaking with him on the phone, Aaron felt a little foolish, making all this fuss over just a fever. But it was a high one, and Joey’s poor body already had enough to deal with. 

“You should know, he is, officially, a pet. A rescue, of sorts. I don’t- I don’t support it. But he needed help, and now he’s sick.” Aaron’s confession came quickly. Simmons wasn’t the type to dwell over things. He was a man of facts - yes or no, and nothing in between. 

“I never much liked that pet industry anyways. I’ll come by this evening,” he said, matter of factly, after a short pause. Aaron thanked him as heartfelt as he could while still trying to sound professional.

-

Simmons was a small man, with a great mind and great abilities - and great properties, which Aaron regularly helped valuate. Simmons didn’t owe him anything, and still, here he was, patiently waiting for the thermometer in Joey’s mouth to beep. 

He hadn’t even budged at the sight of the scars and bruises and the blatantly broken collarbone. He just set down his bag and pulled out the instruments he needed, as if sick, battered men was something he saw everyday. 

Well, he was a doctor. Maybe he did see it everyday. 

“No coughing? No vomit?” 

Joey, slightly sat up against his pillows, looked over at Aaron with hazy eyes. He was looking for permission. Aaron nodded, trying to smooth out the wrinkle that had made itself at home between his eyebrows since yesterday. 

“No, sir,” he whispered around the thermometer, looking back up at the doctor. 

“Okay.” The thermometer beeped. The doctor gently picked it out of his mouth and read it off. “102.8. It’s not dangerously high, but I don’t want it any higher.” He turned to his bag again to find something else, talking as he went. “You should be just fine, Joey, but I want Murphy here to check your fever three times a day. I can give you something to try and take it down,” he pulled out a packet of pills and placed it on the nightstand. “Thrice a day, with food.” 

“No antibiotics?” Aaron ventured. He was sitting on the other side of Joey’s bed, holding his frail hand in both of his. The younger man was almost out of it, eyes glazed over, but trying his hardest to look attentive for the doctor. Aaron rubbed circles into the back of his hand with his thumb. He felt so helpless, unable to do anything but watch as his ward tried to sweat it out. 

Simmons shook his head. “Not unless it’s a bacterial infection.”

“So it’s not an infection?” 

Simmons shut his bag. “Hard to say. No open wounds, right?” Aaron shook his head. Simmons nodded. “No numbness, no stomach aches, no rashes. There are no clear answers here. He could be fighting off a cold and his body is just…” he made a vague gesture with his hand, trying to formulate it in layman’s terms. “... overreacting. Judging from, well, his general condition, he’s not had an easy go of it for a while. It will take a little while for his body to function normally again after such a…” he paused, eyeing the bruises that hadn’t faded entirely from the pale skin just yet, and the many scars littering the younger man’s wrists. The long, thin lines licking up his sides from his back, evidence of something long and flexible hitting him with immense power, over and over again. The red chafing skin around his neck that marked where a collar had once been buckled, and below it, the ugly, red and bruised splatch of skin covering his abused collar bone. 

“Trauma,” Aaron continued for him. 

“Yes. A trauma. That is the word for it.” Simmons nodded and got up. “There is really nothing more I can do for him. Call me if the fever gets any higher, if he develops a rash anywhere, or neck pain, or stomach aches. Make sure he stays hydrated, and sleeps.”

Aaron turned to Joey again. His eyes had slid shut, exhausted only from this little encounter. His poor boy. He pulled the blanket up to cover him properly again, all the way up to his chin, tucking it in as he went. Joey whimpered and pressed his cheek into Aaron’s hand. 

“You can sleep now, sweetheart,” he muttered softly, gently rubbing his cheekbone, lulling him to sleep. His breathing slowly evened out. 

“Has this ankle been broken recently?” Simmons asked abruptly. 

“What?” Aaron asked, turning to look. 

The doctor was at the foot of the bed, studying Joey’s left ankle, the one he’d been limping around on all this time. Aaron had caused the blanket to slide up and now the doctor pushed it up further. 

“This ankle. It’s healed wrong.” He picked the foot up sliding his fingers over a visible bump on the outside where bone was protruding, manipulating the joint this way and that. Aaron glanced up at Joey’s face to gauge his reaction, but he seemed to be sound asleep. Tylenol for the fever in addition to his usual painkillers probably knocked him out cold. 

“Whoever set it should have their license revoked. This is horrible work,” Simmons muttered and gently laid the foot down again. 

“Nothing to revoke yet, I’m afraid,” Aaron said dryly. Simmons looked up. “What? Murphy, who set this?” 

“I’m not sure it was ever set,” Aaron said honestly. “The doctor at the shelter said it was sprained-” 

“Sprained-!” Simmons exclaimed, at a loss for words. 

“So it’s not sprained?” Aaron ventured, and the doctor almost laughed. “Clearly, it is not sprained!” he said and pointed to the bump on the outside of the ankle. “I suppose this happened not too long ago? This is the beginning of a malunion of the malleolus. If it isn’t set properly, and soon, he will experience pain when walking for the rest of his life.”

Aaron didn’t know what to say. Part of him wasn’t surprised at all that Mike had no idea what he was doing and had no business being the medical supervisor of a pet shelter. Another part was already trying to figure out a way to fix it. No pet clinic, that much was certain. Maybe, when Joey was finished with this fever, he could somehow take him to be treated at a hospital…

“Listen, Murphy,” Simmons said, pulling him out of his thoughts, as he picked up his bag and exited the room, Aaron following. “I know an orthopedic surgeon who might be willing to take it on. The ankle and that nasty clavicle. Good woman, shares my - our - beliefs, as far as I know. I’ll send you her contact info. Alright?” 

“What-” Aaron started, as they descended the stairs, but the doctor broke him off. 

“Don’t worry about it, Murphy. The important thing is that we get that ankle of yours under control again. I’ll send you an invoice with the supplies and services for today’s visit. We need to do everything above board in this industry, you know.” Simmons flashed a smile and quick wink as he pulled his coat on and opened the door, a surge of cold wind and snow pushing into the house. 

Returning the smile was a mere reflex on Aaron’s behalf. “Sure thing, Dr. Simmons,” he said as he stepped out on the porch with him and shook his hand. The doctor got into his car and disappeared down the driveway.

Aaron stood on the porch until a particularly strong gust of wind shook him back to life. His fingertips were cold all the way through, he realized as he stepped back inside and locked the door behind him. 

Did he just agree to professional misconduct? 

Yes, he thought to himself as he went into the kitchen to prepare a simple meal for Joey to consume along with the medication for his fever. 

And was he upset about it? 

No, he thought. Fight fire with fire, or something along those lines. 

-

Tags <3 

@simplygrimly @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @briars7 @hackles-up @doveotions @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @kixngiggles @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @whumpthisway @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumping-snail @pumpkin-spice-whump

#cw fever #cw fever aches #cw hallucinations #cw scars #cw bruises #cw broken bones #pet whump #pet whumpee #caretaker #cw conditioning #cw dehumanization #bbu multiverse #bbu fic #boxboy universe #boxboy

[whumpinthepot]

you reblogged that "ask me about my stories" post, i wasn't aware you had stories! you should pin a masterlist!

Awwee yay thank you!! That means a lot! I’m hoping that someday I will be good enough and confident enough to post on here!! I have three stories I’m working on actually. One’s a G/t one!!

TSATS is my first story that I wrote as a teenager. Its fully written except a few chapters but I wrote it so young it needs a final draft and an editor. TSATS is short for “The Sadist and The Slave” and I have the first chapter drawn in comic form actually! I plan to finish the illustrations someday and finish the written book as well.

Rats Race is the story I am currently working on while I take a hiatus from TSATS as my life has gotten a bit out of control recently 😅 so I wanted something that I could work on at ease rather than a full life long project like TSATS ended up being. Rats Race is a boxboy story about a soldier who’s a liiittttlllleee bit too confident in their job.

The last project doesn’t have a name but its a Giant/tiny story about a tiny mute girl who is treated like a pet hamster. I wanted it to be short enough to make into an illustrated comic since TSATS was too taxing and too violent. They’re the only fan characters I have, because I love the borrowers so much…

#whump #breezy’s post #ask #answer #whumpsday #rats race #tsats #hamster #my writing #hamster story #boxboy universe #boxboy #pet whump #slavery tw

[whumpshaped]

what’s bbu?

boxboy universe ! a whole sandbox universe where theres a big institution (the wru, no i dont remember what it stands for) that specialises in training "willing participants" (there are contracts but like 95% is signed under duress) to basically become pet whumpees. theres like subtypes, romantics, domestics? combination types?? its been a long while ok please forgive me, i cant remember that much lol theyre shipped out in boxes, hence the name

#asks

[whirl-whump]

I'd really like to write a new story (and I've already written about 7 pages worth!) But I want to know how "in media res" I should start.

The basic plot setup is as follows: Boxboy universe, set in the near future. Local CEO has a "pet" he's grown a bit bored with, and decides to hand them over to a well-performing employee as a "bonus".

*note: the actual handing over part will have whump as well, ofc

#its one of those things where i have a lot of scenes in my head but only one wants to be written #at least so far #also this will be very tropey and self indulgent lol #whump #whumpblr #box boy universe #slavery whump #slavery mention #I hope I'll get some responses with it set to one day. We shall see!

[leyswhumpdump]

OK so I follow like one BBU series and I doubt I’ll write anything set in that universe myself (though that could always change) so I don’t know if / how much this has been done before but.

How about a series revolving around a secret (criminal) organisation that hooks former boxboys up with new identities?

Obviously there’s potential here for all sorts, depending on the nature of the organisation. Good caretaking. Dodgy caretaking. Exploitation. Desperate whumpees, whumpees who were rescued and brought straight to the organisation (“Without any kind of deconditioning attempt? Are you trying to get us all arrested?”), former “pets” or “caretakers” who are actually WRU agents trying to infiltrate. Reprisals from WRU. WRU agents getting captured. Doctors who work for the organisation off the clock. People who will do anything it takes to keep their organisation secret. Links to more… active, violent attempts to take out the pet industry. There’s potential for a whole mess of crime and intrigue and politics wrapped around the whump.

Like I say, I don’t really engage much with BBU as it tends to hit my squicks a little (although there are one or two exceptions). But if I ever wrote something, I think it would fall somewhere along these lines.

#whump #whump ideas #whump prompts #whump inspiration #box boy #box boy universe #bbu #pet whump

[the-bloody-sadist]

This might sound kind of dumb and obvious, but since your blog header says "intimate/erotic whump", would you call that your... Idk, genre? Or do you have more specific ways of describing your themes? I don't know where this question came from... 🐳

Hey Lil Whale!! I missed you! Noooo it's not dumb and obvious at ALL, because I actually have a sort of complicated relationship with whump LMAO. I don't really consider it a genre, much less MY genre. I just spent time looking through Tumblr communities before I started up my own to learn where my work might best fit in, and the whump community was definitely where I knew the biggest potential audience would be. So I label and tag my stuff with those things because I know it gives people a good idea of what they'll find and if they'll like my stuff or not! My genres are psychological thriller/romance and for Dancing With Death specifically, probably romantic suspense, or just plain fantasy romance if we're talking about what it might get labelled in the professional industry.

I'm glad you asked this, by the way, as I do like to explain it. Whump is just the name for the painful things that happen to a character during his story journey. That's why I don't particularly enjoy a lot of Tumblr's "whump" content, since it usually lacks plot or scene development and most especially characters. I enjoy those who write actual stories that include an abundance of that content and/or tropes. Which...regular stories include most of the time. But someone getting beat up means next to nothing for me if it's not an actual character I've grown to love.

However, if I had to consider one of the whump types a genre, it would probably be boxboy whump. That has a whole universe around it and multiple stories that can portray it differently, thus better fitting the genre description for me. Anyways! Hope that answers it for you!

#sadist’s answered asks #lil whale anon 🐳

[whereallthewhumpgoes]

#i say hypothetically but i already have 2 chapters written i am just madly insecure #pet whump #box boy whump #box boy universe #multiple whumpees #whump #whump writing #lady whump #(so the girl likers can find)