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andithewhumper · 1 month

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Experimentations Chapter 4: The Water

Content: Avian whump, human whumper, scientist whumper, threat of drowning

Dr. Vaughn knew that there would be no calming him down from this, but she didn't mind. She pulled out the dart gun from earlier and knocked him out. Then she untied him and put him back on the stretcher. It seemed that they would be doing the next experiment sooner than later. She pushed him back into the flight room. She restrained his hands behind his back and attached a collar to his neck with yet another electric lock. Then she attacked his collar to a notch in the floor. After he was secured she started preparing the room. She went into the control room and pressed a few buttons. The perches previously on the walls started retracting back, leaving the walls bare. Then He pressed a few more buttons and the room started to fill with water. She had situated him on a small platform that rose above the level of the water and then she pressed the last button and the heat kicked on. Now she just had to wait for the water to boil and the avian to wake up.

Streak didn't let on when he woke. He kept his head bowed, his hands limp behind him. His wings were draped around his body, defensively. He thought she was there, in front of him someplace. He assumed she was. But he was unwilling to look up to see. He took stock of his body. Hands behind him, a leash connecting his neck to the floor. Great. Love that. She was playing mind games. But his legs were not restrained, and neither were his wings.

The water started to boil. Dr. Vaughn couldn't see whether the avian was awake yet but he was sure going to wake up once he felt the hot water start to jump and burn him. And once he got up he was in for a long night. She leaned back in her chair and watched through the glass, waiting for the avian to show signs of consciousness. She knew it would be soon.

Streak reacted fast and suddenly. His wings spread wide and he took off with a leap, suddenly as far into the air as the leash allowed. He had to restrain his wing beats, to keep from dipping his feathers into the water. He cried out, in anger, in confusion. He tried to find her, but he couldn't see anything besides the wall of the room he'd been in earlier.

"What is wrong with you?" He shouted into the echo chamber. "You're insane!" The collar dug into his neck with each beat of his wings. He was made for soaring, not hovering, and he couldn't even do hovering well, when he was tethered over water. What she didn't know, though, was that the boiling water was simply an additional threat. It didn't need to be boiling to kill him. His wings were not made for water. The oils on his feathers protected from dirt, insulated him from the wind, fended off the sun, and even the rain. But submerged in the water, water coming between each feather... it would waterlog him. He would sink, and his heavy wings would drag him down no matter how he tried to swim. He would die in water, of any temperature.

Dr. Vaughn beamed as she watched the avian spur to life. She leaned forward and pressed a button on the microphone.

"I told you that you needed my permission to use your wings and you disobeyed me. Now you will learn what happens when you choose to break the rules. The water below you is only a few inches deep but I imagine that the temperature of the water won't let you land. You will stay here until you learn your lesson, and believe me I can leave you here all night." She turned off the microphone with a click and watched him flap through the glass. She would wait until he was absolutely exhausted before letting him down. Maybe then he will think twice before using his wings without permission.

He pulled at the collar, but with his bound he couldn't do anything more.

"Well, you lost your credibility!" He smart-mouthed at her. She'd taken the muzzle off. He assumed it had not been a day. So she was willing to change her punishment if he pissed her off enough. That was good to know. If he could cause enough problems in any given scenario, she would reset to something new. Not that this was better. His wings were all wrong for this activity.

Dr. Vaughn hummed. Perhaps she had lost her credibility temporarily, but she would make certain to put the muzzle back on once he had exhausted himself. She didn't respond to the lip. She just watched him struggle with the bonds. Soon enough he would start to tire and then the fun would begin. The real reason you had let him out of the muzzle.

"If you want to see me fly, take the collar off!" He yelled at the glass. He was pretty horizontal, his legs straight and stiff in his usual flight position, but each beat of his wings was unnatural and forced. He needed more space than he was allowed, and it was making this test a lot harder for him.

He repeated himself a few more times, fighting with the collar. His wings were stronger than they seemed, and when he really put his effort into it, it seemed for a moment like the leash would come free of the sunken platform. He changed positioning a few times, but he could only really fly when horizontal. His wings got too close for comfort, if he was upright.

Dr. Vaughn hummed, watching the avian struggle. She wouldn't let him free until he was exhausted and begging her for a chance to rest. She noted the way he was flying in her journal and took note of the amount of time he had been flying. Perhaps he would go longer than her hypothesis.

His mind was full of ifs. If he was free, he could fly for hours and hours without stopping, though it would be in dizzying circles. If the water wasn't boiling, he could land safely, he knew that now. If Loe were here, If she left him here, If he fell in- He wanted to kill her. He knew he was better than this test would make him seem. He was a long distance flier. He soared for hours, hitching rides on air currents. He wasn't a hummingbird. He didn't stay in one place. The force his wings created, flapping just once, was enough to rocket him halfway up the room. This restrained version, he was pulling the collar against his neck, trying not to snap his spine.

Dr. Vaughn noticed that the avian was starting to tire. She took notes of this in her journal and slowly turned the temperature of the water down a small amount. She wouldn't completely stop it from boiling but she wanted to prepare for dropping the temperature significantly when the avian finally collapsed.

"Please let me down," he whispered to himself. He didn't want to admit defeat, but this wasn't a game he could win. He was going to hurt himself- no, he was going to get hurt. It was her fault, not his. He'd done nothing wrong, he needed to remember that. He was sweating, still shirtless, and his hands twisted and struggled in their binds behind him. "I'm failing," he called to her. "I'm not gonna- I gotta stop."

Dr. Vaughn felt a wave of satisfaction through her when the avian started calling to her. She knew he wasn't yet tired enough to beg her, but he was getting there. The effort was obvious in his straining muscles. His wings were not flapping as strongly as they were before.

He groaned, his wings straining. The problem was self control. He just wasn't able to do this. His body wasn't able to sustain this.

"Help-" he groaned, his arms trembling. His legs were locked in place, he was in long term flight mode, and he was struggling to go back to being a person and not an eagle.

"Let me come down!" He insisted, more urgently now. But it was not a request, and it wasn't polite, it was a demand.

Dr. Vaughn raised an eyebrow at the avian's demand. He was close, but the desperation hadn't quite translated into begging yet. She wasn't worried. Soon enough he wouldn't be able to hold himself up and then the begging would come tenfold.

Streak grit his teeth. He was making a bad choice, he was being very stupid, and it was going to hurt a lot. But he wasn't willing to beg her. He wasn't willing to submit. He dramaticized it well. It looked like he collapsed rather than gave up, but he was definitely prepared. His boots were good, she'd said it was only a few inches, and he believed her. He knew how far down the platform was. He could fly better with damaged wings than he could walk with damaged feet. His wings rotated, and he landed hard.

Dr. Vaughn watched the avian with interest. He certainly was getting tired if he was willing to risk burning his feet to give his wings a rest. Well two could play this game. She reached over and turned the water pumps back on and the water level began to rise again. The temperature might go down, but the avian wouldn't be able to swim, certainly not without the use of his hands.

He sort of hopped around. The water was much too hot to bear even though his boots, though he didn't think he was actually burned. So he swapped from foot to foot for a moment and then took off again. His neck was badly bruised from his jerking again and again against the collar and leash, and he winced as it dug in again. Then his feather got wet. He cringed, drawing his wings further up, but he couldn't limit his radius any further while staying in the air. He scowled deeply, but kept it up, the tips of his longest feathers dipping into the warm but no longer hot water.

She reached forward and turned on the microphone. "There are no loopholes here, avian. You will fly until I decide you have learned your lesson."

She turned the microphone off and checked the water level. It was at about six feet by now. She had gradually lengthened the amount of chain that came out of the floor so he wouldn't suffocate himself.

He had to fly now. The chain was longer, but the water was higher. He was still in the same position, needing restrained wing beats to keep from dipping his feathers into the water. He was scared now, he was really scared. He could die in the water before she could get him out. Of course, he wasn't thinking about her draining the water. He wasn't thinking rationally at all. He pulled harder at the leash, his legs kicking.

Dr. Vaughn noted his panic, pleased that he did indeed have energy left in him. She noted the amount of time that it had been and she checked the water level again, making sure that it hadn't gone above six feet. She even drained it a small amount five feet would be enough water that the avian would have trouble keeping his head above with the weight of his waterlogged wings. And it was safer for when she pushed the platform back up and drained the water.

He wasn't aware of the water level anymore, only the water that had touched his wings. It wasn't nearly enough to do anything at all, but it had shaken his confidence and he was spiraling.

"I'm gonna drown," he was whispering to himself, "I'm gonna drown, god, I'm gonna drown-" And then he faltered, his wing dipped, and he over-corrected. He rolled sideways to get it out of the water, but it dunked the other one in, and in that exact moment, he was dead. He was as good as dead. The water seeped between each feather and dragged him down, he let out a terrified shout before his head went under. He was tall enough to stand, but he wasn't strong enough. His wings, each one longer than he was tall, dragged him down, and his legs weren't strong enough to hold up the weight. He crumpled under the water, the wings completely waterlogged. He was able to push his head above the water after a few seconds, gasping for air. He never exactly learned how to hold his breath, that wasn't something avians had to know. His hands still bound behind him, he shook his head to be rid of the water on his face. He was crying openly now, he'd never been so afraid in his life.

Dr. Vaughn watched the avian dip under the water. Quickly she pushed the platform up to drain the water and he sank with it, his wings laying on the wet floor. They were probably a hundred pounds each, sopping wet, and he didn't have enough back muscle to move them. They just lay limp where they'd landed, water streaming from them toward the drain.

She stood from her chair and walked out of the viewing room. She walked over to the avian and crouched down in front of him. The avian before her was magnificent. He was soaking wet and sobbing, so defeated that he was perfectly malleable. This is what she wanted. Now he would learn some respect and the lesson would stick. He would be much better behaved in the morning. Dr. Vaughn brushed a strand of wet hair out of the avian's face. She lifted his chin gently with a single finger.

"Have you learned your lesson, Streak?"

He nodded, his face lifting but his eyes looking down. He was trembling, his shoulders shaking from sobs, and he was coughing a bit. He hadn't been underwater long enough to be at risk of drowning, or even inhaling a dangerous amount of water. He'd just never been submerged like that before.

"Don't," he pleaded, his tears mixed in with the rest of the water dripping down his face. "Don't ever- I won't be- Bad, I'll do what you want, please- please, don't ever put me in water again-" He began to sob anew. He was a wreck.

Dr. Vaughn brushed a tear off his cheek with her thumb. She listened to his pleas with satisfaction. She lifted his head up with both of her hands, cupping his face.

"Look at me Streak. You don't ever have to go in the water again if you just behave yourself and follow the rules, okay. Can you behave yourself?"

He nodded into her hands, sniffing. He coughed again, turning away from her.

"I wanna go home," he whispered, his golden brown eyes still glittery with tears. "If I'm good... If I do all your tests and, and let you touch my wings, and all of that... will you let me go home after?"

Dr. Vaughn ran her fingers through his hair again, pleased that the avian was letting her touch him.

"If you are good and you let me do all of my tests I will see about letting you go home. Unfortunately, it's not up to me. My boss is the one who makes the decision, but if you're very very good I will let her know and maybe then we can take you home. Does that sound good?"

He hung his head.

"No."

But he couldn't do anything about it. He was drained. He didn't ask for his hands to be freed, or the collar to be removed. He was a lab rat now, and she would kill him if he was a bad one. He needed to be good, not because she deserved it, not because he wanted to, but so he could survive. He just needed to keep his head down and survive. Maybe she would let him send a letter home, or even call. What he wouldn't give to hear Loe's soft voice right now.

Dr. Vaughn wondered what the avian was thinking. He was obviously tired, having spent all of his energy with the flight and the panic. She knew he had earned a break. She needed him to remember why he was punished first, though.

"Alright. What do you have to say?"

It took a long minute for him to answer. He had to think of the right answer, the answer a crazy person would expect to that question. And even when he got it, he was unwilling to say it, because he was too damn proud. But he remembered the feeling of water in his mouth, his nose, his ears-

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

taglist: @blood-and-regrets

lmk if you want to be added :)

#whump #wing whump #avian whump #avian whumpee #scientist whumper #drowning #avian #lady whumper

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clickerflight · 11 months

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Oh, how far you've fallen

Content: Dehumanization, scientist whumper, villain whumpee, scars, bruises, dragged by the hair (let me know if I missed anything)

Inspired by this post

................................................

Scientist made her way down the hall, preparing herself to entertain the inspector coming from the government offices. She was pretty excited. Government Inspector was not only cute, but also didn’t mind overlooking the horrible horrible crimes against humanity that usually took place at the Harry & Co labs.

Scientist stopped before going through the door that would lead to the lobby and smiled at herself in the reflection of a metal plating on a door, checking her teeth before heading on through. She looked around, looking for Government, and was confused when she was met with a man in his early thirties giving her a nod.

“Hi, are you Dr. Scientist?” he asked, stepping forward and holding out a hand for her to shake.

She nodded, hiding her confusion as she said, “I am. And you are?”

“I’m Inspector Agent. Agent is just fine. Government couldn’t make it so he asked me to come.”

“Ah, I see. So you’re a friend of his?”

“Yeah,” Agent said with a little bit of a wink. “Don’t worry. He let me know what I’d be getting into.”

She smiled, still disappointed, but glad that Government had made sure to send a friend who wouldn’t shut this place down. He was good at thinking ahead when it was necessary.

“Perfect. Let’s get this done, then,” Scientist said, waving him along.

He nodded and followed her through the door. “Stay with me,” she warned him. “If you’re not with me, you could be mistaken for one of the subjects, and I doubt Government would be very happy with me if that happened to you.”

Agent gave her a wry smile and said, “No, I suppose not. I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

She nodded and as they walked down the halls, she said, “Now, we keep it all very tidy around here. The maintenance closets are locked so if a subject gets out, they can’t get anything from out of there easily, we have the labs over that way, the cloning happening there, and then currently ongoing experiments further in. Anything you want to look at first?”

“I’m good to start wherever you want to take me. I have a couple of things I need to see, but I’ll ask about them as we get to them, and I’ll ask any other questions I have afterwards.”

“Perfect. Sounds like you know the drill.”

“I certainly do.”

…………………………..

Agent took notes as they went, in a cypher, of course, and he paid more attention as Scientist led him into a darkened part of the labs.

“This is fairly new. We wanted some more subjects from outside, but we didn’t have anywhere to keep them. We had these installed and discovered that the prisons had plenty of people that wouldn’t be missed. Some have been quite thrilling to learn from, others have been a little trickier. It’s also good storage for projects that are out of use, but still need to be kept around.”

Agent nodded, eyeing each of the cells as they walked passed. The doors were somewhat medieval, made of metal bars which typically interfered with magic and innate abilities and often even sucked the energy out of normal people. Agent could already feel it pulling at his energy, bringing back extremely unpleasant memories from past exploits.

Scientist stopped in front of one door in particular, smiling down at the man curled on the floor, shaking.

“Hard to believe how terrifying everyone thought you were, hmm Villain? You look almost tame now.”

She kicked the bars of the cage with a cruel laugh, causing Villain to yelp, scrambling to get farther away from the door, but he was unable to as he was already as far as his chain would allow.

“Would you like a better look at him, Agent? It’s not everyone who gets to see him anymore.”

Agent watched as she carefully crouched, grabbing the chain where it was attached to one of the bottom bars. A pitiful whimper came from the creature in the cage and she clicked her tongue at him. “Now, now, Villain. I trained you better than this.”

The shrinking form hesitated and then slowly crawled to the door. It took all of Agent’s self control to keep from revealing his disgust and horror as Villain’s face came into the dim light of the hallway, pale, horribly bruised, and scarred. A part of his lip had been damaged so badly that he couldn’t get his mouth all the way closed on the one side and his hair hung ragged in his face, small patches of hair thinning or even missing in places. There were tears already welling in his eyes as she dragged him forward quicker by the chain attached to the collar around his throat.

She smiled and reached in, grabbing him by the hair and forcing him up against the bars with such ease that Agent didn’t have any doubt as to what had caused those missing patches of hair.

“Here we are,” she said, checking over his bare torso as he trembled against the bars, flinching as though they were burning him, but not trying to free himself from her grasp, despite Agent having seen him tear huge men to shreds with just his hands just a year ago.

Villain’s eyes darted up to Agent’s face, clouded with some sort of disease and tears. Agent doubted that Villain could even really see him, but Agent still stiffened, worried that he would be recognized.

“What have you been learning about him?” Agent asked as evenly as he could manage.

She grinned and said, “We learned about the DNA that creates people like him, and learned how it can be strengthened, but he ran out of usefulness months ago. Didn’t you? You’re useless now, hmm?”

“N-not useless,” Villain whimpered. “M funny. Said so, m funny.” Tears were running down his face now, a surprising amount for how sick and thin he looked. Agent didn’t think he would have enough water in his body to keep crying like that.

Scientist chuckled, patting his bruised cheek. “That’s right. You’re funny when you cry.”

She let go of his chain and he slowly withdrew. She stood up and smiled at Agent. “He’s good for stress relief. A lot of the old guys here come beat on him when the projects don’t go their way. Want a go at him before we move on?”

“I’m afraid not, tempting as it is,” Agent said, “I do have places to be and I’m starting to brush up against my time limit.”

“Right, we’ll finish this up quickly, then.”

Agent didn’t look into the cell as he passed, though he could still hear Villain sobbing as he passed.

………………………………..

Agent was back that evening. The building was dark and quiet, with only a couple of lights here and there where people were finishing up their reports before going home. Agent waited until a few more scientists left the building, talking casually with each other before he moved from his hiding place, silent as a shadow. He managed to catch the door before it closed and stepped into the space between the two sets of doors. He keyed in the code for the next set of doors, using Scientist’s code. He probably didn’t have long before security noticed that the cameras where he was traveling could only see a slight disturbance in the pixels where he moved. He hoped they were the superstitious type that was afraid of ghosts.

He walked silently through the halls, passing through doors with ease and finally came to the complete darkness that was the ‘dungeon’ hallway. Agent hesitated for only a moment. He was disobeying all kinds of orders being here, but he wasn’t leaving Villain here for even a moment longer. He couldn’t count the amount of times that Villain had saved his life, and he was not going to turn his back on his old friend now.

He stepped into the darkness and turned on his night vision goggles. He stopped in front of Villain’s cell where he heard the subtle scrape of metal against the floor. Agent crouched and peered into where he could see Villain rocking, his arms around his knees as he stared at the wall. It was so…. Awful. Villain had nothing left. There was nothing about this creature that even somewhat reminded Agent of Villain.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, the question slipping out without his consent, like he was hoping to unlock something that proved Villain was still in there.

Villain hiccuped. After a moment, he whispered, “Henchman used to ask me that. He was nice. He was so very nice and I wasn’t. I should have been nicer. Maybe he would have come for me? No, he would have come for me. Maybe he’s dead? I wish I was dead. Henchman used to ask me that, he did, he did, he did.”

Agent opened his mouth to say something, anything, but it wouldn’t come out. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard as Villain continued his insane ramblings. It had been a long time since he’d heard the name Villain had given him.

“I did,” Agent said. “I had a hard time finding you. I didn’t know you were here.”

“You didn’t?

“No… Villain, do you want to go home?”

“Home? The Lair?”

Agent felt his stomach burn as he said, “No, not the lair. It… I have a house. It has a bed you can sleep in, and you can even have some food before bed.”

Villain scooted over to the bars, hope shining in his delirious face. “I, I would like that. I would. Are you really Henchman? I have dreams, you know, dreams that are never true.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Let’s go, hmmm?” Agent said, standing to figure out how to get the door open. After a minute, he found a scanner and he pulled out a key card he’d swiped from someone earlier, praying that it would work. That was a little bing as the card was accepted and he breathed out a sigh of relief.

The door slid open and Agent crouched next to Villain. He used a lock pick on Villain’s collar, and soon Villain’s neck was free. He touched his bare, if damaged, skin and Agent said, “I want to carry you, okay?”

“Like a princess?” Villain asked, his eyes sliding over Agent’s face, clearly not able to see or focus very well.

“Do you want to be a princess?” Agent asked, surprised.

“Princesses are good. They get to be rescued,” Villain replied, happily letting Agent pick him up.

“I see. Then everything works out, hmmm?”

“Yeah.”

Agent stepped out into the hall when a flashlight shone down the hallway and a voice shouted out at him.

Without a word, Agent tightened his hold on Villain and took off through the darkness, a white bolt of adrenaline erasing all thoughts besides the need to get his precious cargo somewhere safe.

#whump #collar #scientist whumper #villain whumpee #scars #dragged by the hair #chain

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scratchandplaster · 2 months

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FEBUWHUMP DAY 29 - Not allowed to die

CW: tiny/nonhuman Whumpee, existential horror

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Whumpee is a small homunculus sculpted from wax. When the sun sets, the creator ignites its body and spirit to illumine their workplace. It can walk to every spot it is commanded to, silent and dutifully giving its life force for them, as wax drips down its body.

Throughout its short life, the homunculus is always careful not to mark any scattered manuscripts on the table with its spilled self.

At the end of the night, the creator will blow out their flame of life as swift as they gave it and mold its successor anew out of cold remains and fresh wax. A part of it is forced to live on forever, yet that's all it is good for: fulfilling an unending purpose.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Art ↓

So yesterday I used a gif with my prompt that I got from a public source, but thanks to a comment I was told it was actually stolen from the artist kirokaze. If you liked the gif, check them out! Guess l´ll use less gifs in the future.

To make amends, you have to put up with my own sketches for now. Here is the little wax dude from above:

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

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whumpdrivethru · 10 months

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can I get cyborg whumpee and scientist whumper with a side of psychological torture ? : 3

Hey!! Sorry for the delay, the ice cream machine is still broken, but here it is!

Enjoy!

Cw// dehumanization, “it” as a pronoun, cyborg vivisection, thoughts about death, begging for death, mechanical gore, body horror

The cyborg couldn’t scream. Any of its vocal functions had been turned off before it was strapped to the table. Technically its motor functions could be shut off as well, but that would interfere with its creator’s work.

“If your limbs are sleeping, we can’t find the problem, Whumpee.”

It was a casual Friday evening for a rewiring, according to its creator, the mad scientist who built it almost four years ago.

And “life” had been nothing but agony since.

“Do you want to apologize to me?” The cyborg shook its head, not because it didn’t want to apologize, but because Scientist held a particularly sensitive wire between gloved fingers. A sinking feeling wound through the mass of wires and electronics that was its abdomen. While not entirely human, it still had all the characteristics of one. Including pain receptors. It could still feel pain. “No?”

It had punched Scientist earlier during training and had been taken to the lab as soon as the session concluded. The punch wasn’t meant to be as hard as it was, but a glitch made sure to knock the wind out of the scientist and leave them a nasty bruise. It had only panicked when Scientist grabbed and dragged it into the gym. It raised its arm to push Scientist away and…

“No- no! I want to-“ the wire was tugged, Whumpee letting out a silent shriek. Its eyes widened, threatening to burst from its head as it threw its head back. It wailed and sobbed until it was exhausted, Scientist still holding the dark green wire in their hand. It had considerably more slack now it had been jerked with such force, and Whumpee was left shaking on the verge of passing out.

“Please,” Whumpee begged, blinking tears from its eyes. “Please, I’ll apologize. I’ll apologize!”

“What did I tell you about begging, Whumpee?” Whumpee nodded, swallowing silently. While Scientist wasn’t good at lip-reading, the word ‘please’ was easy enough to understand. No begging in the lab. The lab wasn’t a punishment. The lab was there to help it when it had problems.

There had been two other incidents earlier in the month. Scientist didn’t pay as much attention as they did the third time, probably because the previous two didn’t involve them directly. One of them was with an intern (it was delivering a drink to him when the same malfunction made its hand clamp down on the cup, spraying everybody with hot coffee) and a nurse (she was punched in the face out of fear just as Scientist was).

“Good. Hold still, now.” Whumpee’s vision went white as the wire was cut. Its eyes rolled into the back of its head as it let out, if its vocal functions were on, a glass-shattering cry.

…

It came to as Scientist was reconnecting wires to each other, around the Problem Wire and weaving them together like a wicker basket. Scientist looked up from their work at Whumpee and smiled, sending chills down Whumpee’s spine. A wire was tugged just then, making Whumpee convulse.

“I’m sorry,” Whumpee sobbed as Scientist continued to push and pull wires in different directions. “I’m so sorry! I’m sorry for everything!”

Eventually, Whumpee was given a break. Scientist had finished weaving wires together and had replaced their grease-drenched gloves.

“Do you understand why this is happening, Whumpee?” Whumpee shook its head, the motions small and sharp. Pain clouded its thoughts. It couldn’t put together a word in its head, its brain a plate of scrambled eggs.

“You are an experiment. Experiments are temporary,” Scientist began, pulling a tray from the rolling cart and placing it to the side. “But I didn’t design you to break so soon.” Whumpee screamed as wire after wire was pulled to its maximum length and secured with tight clips on the tray. “This is the third rewiring this month, Whumpee.” Whumpee shook its head as Scientist moved lower down its abdominal cavity. “And the month isn’t half over yet. This isn’t a good look on you.” Whumpee agreed. It wasn’t a good look at all. If Scientist was right about anything, they were right that if it didn’t stop malfunctioning, there would be problems worse than just a rewiring. Whumpee didn’t even want to think about that.

“So tell me, Whumpee. What should I do with you?” Scientist’s gloved hand, already coated in grease again, reached for Whumpee’s vocal controls and the dial was turned back up. It took a shaking breath, choking out a sob.

“I-“ Scientist had their hand around another wire. This one, it felt, wasn’t a problem at all. So why-

An impossibly loud scream echoed around the room as Scientist tugged on it. Itdidn’thaveaproblemwhywasScientistcreatingoneitwasfinethewirewasfineitwasfinewhyweretheyplayingwithitwhywhywhywhywhy

“Answer, Whumpee. What should I do with something broken like you?”

“F-fix-“ it tried to speak between sobs and hiccups, avoiding the piercing gaze of its creator. “Fix m- m-“ another cry as the wire was tugged again. “Fix me!” It didn’t know if Scientist could understand what it said until Scientist shook their head.

“I’m not sure about that. I have many more experiments to tend to and each time I have to fix you, I waste time.” The wire was bent, and Whumpee howled.

“Then- then scrap me!” It resisted the urge to add a ‘please,’ but even if it tried, it could only cry as the wire was bent back to its original position. “I can’t- I-“ Whumpee didn’t want to live. But it didn’t want to die. “I.. I-“ Scientist’s hand was on the vocal control dial and its voice faded away to nothing.

“Oh, Whumpee.” Whumpee sobbed pitifully in silence as Scientist began to work again. “You know I love you too much to scrap you just for a few malfunctions, right?” Whumpee shook its head. “We’ll manage them together, okay?” The pain continued as its creator made some finishing touches to its wiring. There was no more jerking or pulling, though. One type of torture was replaced with another from the strong pinching of those damn clips. It didn’t know what was worse. Scientist said the clips were only temporary, but last time they were used, they stayed for two weeks. It was ‘only to make sure the wires learned to stay in place.’

Bullshit.

“Well, that should do it.” The empty tray was placed back onto the cart and gloves were changed again. Then, Whumpee’s abdomen plate was fitted back on. Whumpee whimpered as each screw was tightened and the suction mechanism activated. Finally, Scientist took a special screwdriver from their pocket and inserted it into Whumpee’s VC panel. There was a click, and the nightly ritual of locking Whumpee’s VC dial in place was complete. “The skin layer should regrow itself within the week. So no sharp movements.” That wasn’t its fault. Whumpee glared up at Scientist, who returned a smile that made its blood boil.

“Now let’s get you back to your room.” Agony persisted as it was pulled from the table and fitted back into its regular restraints. The first rewiring of the month was the hardest. It took twice as long because the synthetic skin had to be cut away before its abdominal plate could be reached. Two rewirings later, and only a thin layer of skin had managed to grow over the plate. Hopefully it wouldn’t need a fourth for a long time.

“Walk,” Scientist ordered. Whumpee took one step and collapsed. After a day lying strapped to a table, its legs weren’t used to the sudden weight of the mechanics in its upper body. “Okay…” it took two lab assistants to haul it up to its feet. “Walk it back to its room. Slowly.” Whumpee took small steps and the lab assistants let it guide them, only because they were struggling to pull it ahead. Finally they reached Whumpee’s cell, marked only with the number 559. The door was opened and Whumpee was gently let down onto the floor. There was a bed, but the assistants’ faces were red as tomatoes. It didn’t want to injure them too. The smaller assistant flashed it a pitying look as he left the room.

“Goodnight, Whumpee,” he quietly called, and the door was shut, leaving it in absolute darkness.

Whumpee dragged itself to the corner of its cell, propping itself up against the walls. A hard surface on either side of its body helped support it as it held its stomach in pain. That did nothing. Pressing on the hard plate, unable to reach the terrible burning inside, was a torture of its own. Whumpee cried, hands and fingers twitching as it squeezed its side. That gave it something to hold onto, but it only made Whumpee more aware of the pain. It could feel the clamps. It could feel where wires had been cut, pulled, tied, and woven together. It could feel it all.

“Please,” it called into the darkness, falling against the corner. Now that it was out of the lab, it was allowed to beg. Even if nobody could hear it. “Please, make it stop.” Nobody knew it was here. After Scientist locked its VC dial in place, it wasn’t speaking until the next morning.

“Please, help me.”

You’ve been served by Quill. Come again soon!! :)

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whump-a-la-mode · 1 year

Text

Armistice - Part One

Oops random burst of inspiration

Summary: A team of agents investigate a secret weapons lab and find something unexpected.

Contains: Living weapon, scientist whumpers, inhuman whumpee, lab whump, secret agents

Warnings: Dehumanization, cages, military themes, guns, pet whump, living weapon, gunshot wounds

Start Transmission

“I fail to see how this level of security is necessary.” Colonel Blaire, a tense man who had spent too much time in the sun, commented.

“I assure you, Sir, this is very necessary.” Doctor Cecil, walking right at the Colonel’s side, replied. “We would not be going through these procedures if there was any doubt.”

The two traversed a short stretch of hallway. They had just passed through a large, steel door, affixed with a mechanical lock and key. Another door was up ahead. Doctor Cecil removed an oversized brass keyring from her lab coat, taking the next key-- they were numbered, of course-- and inserting it into the proper hole. The door opened.

“Whatever this thing is, you’re certain it has military usage? Much more of this rigamarole and I’ll have you fired for wasting my time.”

“Most certainly.”

Another key. Another lock. Another key.

“And at what point do you intend on telling me what this thing is?”

“I do not intend on telling you, Colonel. I intend on showing you. I guarantee, it will be well worth the wait, and worth your trouble.”

The colonel only grunted in reply.

The last door required a physical key, a keypad code, as well as remote permission given by someone, somewhere, sitting at a computer. Beyond said door was a room that most would consider unremarkable. The walls had been reinforced first with steel, then with a covering of rubber.

At the center of it all was a cage, covered in a black tarp.

From beneath the tarp came a snarl.

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“How far out are we?”

Agent Alces leaned over the shoulder of her team’s pilot, Agent Puda, who didn’t seem all too pleased with the incursion.

“Less than 1000 klicks. Under an hour.”

“How long till we need to batten down the hatches?”

“30 minutes. The crew should be in their seats in 45.”

“Got it.”

The pilot expected that to be the end of it. However, to his surprise, his superior sat down in the empty co-pilot’s seat next to him.

Puda knew exactly what that meant.

“You’re worried.”

“Of course I’m worried.” Alces muttered.

She fidgeted with her watch. Half of her body had already been put on, excluding her helmet-- as well-engineered as those things were, they were notoriously uncomfortable for long-term wear. That left her short hair, the color of wheat, free to flow.

“There’s a hell of a lot to be worried about.” She continued. “This isn’t going to be an easy op.”

“Is there such a thing as an easy op?”

“There’s easier ops than this one.” Alces sighed. “We’re going after an unknown object at an unknown facility, guarded by unknown forces. We don’t know what kind of weapons they have. That’s not to mention the American military is rumored to be going after the same thing.”

“Yeah.” Puda grimaced. “We’ve sure had easier ops. You’re sure this is a good idea?”

“It’s our mission. They wouldn’t send us on a mission if they thought we couldn’t manage it.”

“Sure.” The pilot had always been a bit skeptical about their employer.

In a sense, their employers were the whole human race. In a more realistic sense, their employer was an internationally-funded law enforcement agency known as SABRE.

It was the job of SABRE to maintain international law, mostly in the areas of human rights. Small jobs went to local authorities. Big jobs went to Interpol. Unwieldy, dangerous, stupid jobs went to SABRE.

Who do you think keeps cleaning up after all the UFOs?

“What do we know, then?” Puda questioned.

“Didn’t you come to the briefing?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And did you… Listen?”

Puda didn’t respond to that one, focusing instead on the radars and dashboards of the cockpit.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Alces rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t unused to this particular behavior from her pilot. She was lucky that he was working at all.

“Alright.” She started. “SABRE’s intelligence sources have been indicating that a lab in Nevada has been working with an unknown weapon. Whatever this weapon is, the lab is absolutely refusing to cooperate with international weapons testing and regulation requirements.

For all we know, they could have the next Manhattan project in there, and the American brass has already caught the scent. We need to figure out what they’re doing.”

“So, we don’t even know if what they have is dangerous?”

“Not necessarily, but the half-meter thick steel walls around the facility would implicate as such. Officially, we’re only going down there to make sure that they start complying with international regulations.”

“And what are we doing unofficially?”

“Figuring out what they’re doing, figuring out if it’s illegal, and, if it is, putting a stop to it.”

“Do they know we’re coming?”

“Of course not. That’s the whole point of a surprise attack.”

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After an absurdly lavish dinner, complete with wine bottles that, for most, would cost an entire year’s salary, Colonel Blaire was being treated to a show.

Alongside Doctor Cecil and a cohort of her white-coated compatriots, the colonel now stood behind a panel of one-way glass, several inches thick.

After so much buildup, their project was overdue for a demonstration.

The room beyond the glass was large, rectangular, and outfitted with padded mats along the wall, similar to those one might see in a wrestling gym. The center of the room was occupied by a ballistics dummy, the kind made of a clear resin, meant to demonstrate how something would penetrate the human body. On one side of the room, a closed gate led to another chamber.

“You have already heard about this weapon’s hardiness.” Doctor Cecil began. “Forget about supply lines, this thing can traverse extreme climates for days on end, requiring only minimal supplies. With extraordinary navigational senses, it does not rely on radar or radio signals. This weapon could travel deep into any enemy warzone, undetected.

And, when it gets there…”

The lights in the chamber beyond the glass brightened. The gate began to rumble open.

Before it opened all the way, something scrabbled underneath, managing to escape into the chamber beyond.

It took exactly 3.78 seconds for the ballistics dummy to be turned to a pile of resin scraps.

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SABRE Team C landed in a clearing in the forest.

For all his nonsense, there was a reason that Alces put up with Puda: The man could land their plane damn near anywhere and not so much as scratch the paint.

Alces, along with the rest of her team, were seated in the cockpit in their individual seats. Once the landing gear steadied, she took off her seatbelt.

All in all, there were six of them. Puda, of course, was seated at the front, nearest to the controls. The rest were arranged in a semi-circle, with Alces in the center.

Doctor Kuhli was on the far right, a brown-skinned woman with her black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. For all her nagging, everyone on the team understood full-well that she was the main thing keeping them alive. She was their doctor. She was also the one who usually kept Doctor Munty from eating the chemicals from his lab.

Doctor Munty, of course, was the team’s science officer. One might be surprised to learn that a field team would have any need of a science officer, but he had justified his usefulness time and time again. With how many unknown compounds and chemicals they encountered, it was good to have a genius with a lab. He was seated on the far left.

The other two spaces, between Alces and the doctors, were filled by the team’s two field agents: Agent Reeves and Agent Savini. At the moment, both of them looked nearly identical, wearing black uniforms and helmets. If their visors weren’t raised, Alces would’ve had a hard time telling the difference. With their faces visible, however, the differences between the two were stark.

Agent Reeves was a short woman, chronically underestimated for her size and blonde hair (it wasn’t that color naturally, but SABRE continuously refused to allow her to dye it pink, so they compromised.) Her bangs were a mess under her helmet. It was almost odd to see her without her usual collection of barrettes and scrunchies, but, quite obviously, those didn’t work with a tight-fitting carbon fiber helmet.

Agent Savini, on the other hand, was tall, muscular, and more than a little standoffish. He was the dream of any SABRE recruiter: Strong, disciplined, smart, and unflappable. Alces didn’t know if she had ever seen him smile, but he had never failed to carry out a single of her orders. His only flaw was a small dependance on whiskey and smokes, but Alces could hardly complain.

She had a damn good team behind her. They could do this. They would do this, and they would all make it out alive.

She just had to lead them through it.

Lights on the dashboard turned off one by one as the plane settled into a resting state. Meanwhile, Alces moved to the front of the room, addressing the rest of her team with her pilot close at hand.

“Alright.” She began, clearing her throat. “This isn’t going to be an easy op. I want everyone at their best. We’re going to stay together. We don’t know what we’re going to find in there. That makes extraction hard. There’s a chance we won’t be bringing anything out of there at all. We may also be seizing the next advancement in lethal military technology.

Puda.” The pilot turned to listen. “You’re going to drive me, Reeves, and Savini in the UTV as far as you can. Meanwhile, Munty, you’re going to fly the drones out ahead of us. We’ll stay in contact while you find us an entrance. If they won’t open it for us, then we’re going to breach it.

Kuhli, I want you preparing a secure facility back here, ready to contain whatever we find, if anything. You might have some patients, if any weapons are fired.

Does everyone understand?”

Everyone nodded, muttering their acknowledgement. Damn, Alces loved her team.

“Let’s move out!”

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“I hope you liked what you saw.” Doctor Cecil folded her hands in front of herself, seated across a boardroom from Colonel Blaire.

The Colonel’s expression was as firm as ever. However, his earlier anger had melted away, leaving only stoicism behind.

“You have fulfilled your promise. You have quite the weapon.”

“Do you think it will be enough for what you desire?”

“Enough? Yes, yes, more than enough.” He drummed his fingers. “But there is only the one.”

“Only the one, for now. We believe that we can acquire more. We simply require additional funding.”

“More funding. You must understand the risk of bringing this information to my superiors. Laws will need to be changed. But… I will talk to them. I will let you know if you can have your funding.

Until then, I want more data. More tests. This thing needs to be proven six ways to Sunday.”

Doctor Cecil was clearly less than pleased with the answer. She most certainly wasn’t pleased when the door to the boardroom burst open.

Her heart jumped right to her throat at the appearance of three strangers in military garb. Their faces were concealed beneath black helmets and tinted visors. The rest of their bodies were equally concealed beneath vests and carbon fiber elbow pads.Their weapons were clearly intended to intimidate.

Dammit. Dammit! Doctor Cecil leapt to her feet, knocking over the chair she had been sitting in. The colonel across from her did the same.

“Woah, there.” The three strangers were arranged in a triangular formation, with one at the front and two slightly behind, one on either side. It was their presumed leader, at the front, who spoke. “No need to get spooked.”

“Who are you?” Doctor Cecil growled.

“You have no authorization to be here.” Colonel Blair added.

“We do, actually.” The leader of the incursion reached into a specially-placed pocket, revealing a badge.

SABRE. Of course it had to be SABRE, of course it had to be now.

“We’re here to enforce Chapter 89, Article 3, Subsection B of the international SABRE weapons treaty. All military research facilities are required to register, undergo international third-party inspection, and disclose all weapons possessed. That’s along with Subsection C-- All experiments with potential deadly weapons must be pre-approved.

This is an unauthorized, unsupervised, illegal weapons research facility. So, you’re going to give us the grand tour, then you’re going to shut down until you comply with national and international law.

Is that understood?”

Beneath that visor, Doctor Cecil just knew there was a sly smile.

She knew, of course, the illegality of her operation. She had just been hoping to change the law before that was revealed.

“I understand.” She replied, evenly.

Reaching a hand into a pocket, she pressed a button, calling for emergency security assistance. With backup on the way, she pulled out a handgun.

“But I don’t think you understand exactly how much danger you’re in.” She continued, coldly.

Given what her operation involved, she had cut no corners on security. As the intruders hesitated on their next move, footsteps pounded down the hallway.

Gunfire filled the hallway.

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When the smoke cleared, Alces checked her troops. Both Reeves and Savini were still on their feet, even as they gasped for air a bit.

It had been a harsh shootout.

Looking around, she spotted four guards on the ground. All breathing. SABRE didn’t train their agents to kill if there was another option. Still, they were wounded, and would need a hospital sooner rather than later.

Alces took a step forward. Her field agents took one in turn. She was damn lucky to have the agents that she did.

She hoped that her show of force would work to intimidate the woman in a lab coat in front of her.

“Alright. No more of that.” Alces did her best to keep her voice calm. No one had to get angry, here. “By the way, you are definitely under arrest now.

You have a weapon. You are going to show us where it is.”

The lab-coated woman’s eyes shifted back and forth. Alces knew what that meant.

She was ready for the woman to run, but didn’t have time to react. The doorway was too wide. Before she knew it, the doctor had burst out of the room, right past her and her agents.

“Dammit!” Alces exclaimed. “Reeves, you stay with him.”

She pointed at the man in the boardroom. He was definitely military.

“Don’t let him go anywhere, and take his gun. Savini, you’re with me.”

“Got it, boss!” Reeves gave a big thumbs-up, before pointing a big gun at the big military man.

With a tilt of her head, Alces indicated for Savini to follow her as she moved out in the hallway.

Time to chase down a scientist.

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Doctor Cecil whipped around a corner, her own hot breath rushing back in her face. Stupid SABRE, stupid stupid stupid! Of all days, why did this have to happen today?!

Little did they know, they had no clue what they were up against. They thought they were dealing with a gun, or a gas, or a bioweapon.

Stupid agents.

She could hear their footsteps pounding behind her. They would catch up to her, that much was inevitable. She just had to get to the containment unit before they did.

She skidded to a stop in front of one of the many doors in this highway. All at once, she regretted the security measures she herself had mandated. There was nothing to be done for it now, though. At least she had practice in getting the key from her pocket, putting it in the lock.

Once Doctor Cecil was through the door, she slammed it closed. It wouldn’t lock automatically, but it would slow her pursuers down, ever so slightly. She had a head start, and she wasn’t being weighed down by god knows how many pounds of military-issue.

One door after another. They finally arrived at the final one. She had never typed in her keycode so fast, and she had never before been more glad that she kept someone always stationed in the security chair. If she was lucky, the rest of the guards would be here soon.

Not that she would need them.

Doctor Cecil swung open the last door, revealing the same room as she had formerly to Colonel Blair. The weapon had been returned to its cage, covered again by its tarp.

She couldn’t wait to see those SABRE pencil pushers torn to shreds. Pulling out one last key, she raced to the cage, tore away the tarp, and undid the padlock.

The door swung open.

The weapon leapt free.

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Alces and Savini skidded to a stop soon after the scientist did.

This had to be it. This was the weapon. Of course, the scientist would attempt to use her own deadly creation against her attackers.

Alces held out an arm to prevent Savini from getting any closer. Whatever this thing was, it shouldn’t be able to harm them. Their helmets acted as respirators, their bodies covered from head to toe in the best gear any currency could buy. Any chemical, any bioweapon, they could handle it.

Time seemed to move in slow motion as the scientist swung open a cage of some sort.

The person that lurched from the cage was thin, but muscular, shaggy blonde hair raggedly cut. Muscly bulk rippled beneath their neck as they snarled. Their body was covered only by a cotton undershirt and a pair of shorts.

A person.

The weapon wasn’t a contagion. It wasn’t a gun. It wasn’t a chemical.

It was a person.

“Go!” The scientist snapped.

The person charged.

Agent Savini discharged his weapon.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #lab whump #living weapon whumpee #living weapon #inhuman whumpee #whump writing #whump prompt #scientist whumper #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #secret agents

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lesbianwriter · 1 year

Note

Hello there! I have a simple request for you, if you don't mind this idea. I'm curious to see your take on it!

Would you mind doing something with the concept of a monster, after months (or even years if you'd prefer) of being experimented on by a mad scientist (who is one of those "too clever for their own good" types), manages to outwit and turn the tables on her, and is then left to decide what she ought to do with her?

Thank you so much! Hope you have a nice day!

Scientist made her play chess.

It was an enrichment activity, something to keep Monster’s mind from becoming mush while in captivity, and it also served as a way for Scientist to gauge Monster’s intelligence—whether she was good at preemptive planning, if she was able to make logical decisions during the game, or if she was impulsive and slammed pieces down on the board without thinking.

After months of playing the game, Monster had become good enough to understand the functions of the game and she even learned a handful of the gambits, but she was never better than her captor. Always, without fail, Scientist was the one to say checkmate in the end. Monster wanted to scream and rip her hair out whenever she was chained and made to sit at the board when she knew she was doomed to fail, but one night she was awake, thinking about the games, and she her captivity was a chess game, too. If she wanted to get out, she had to apply the same rules.

That was what led to scientist being strapped down to the same table that Monster had been experimented on.

“You don’t understand what you’re doing.” Scientist uttered shakily, her chest rising in falling heavily. Monster had a hand to her chest and she could feel the pumping of her heart.

“No, I understand.” Monster’s eyes narrowed, but she smiled. “What do you think I should do with you? I don’t know much about humans, so I could experiment on you—test your limits.”

Scientist shuddered at the familiar words.

Monster brushed shapes onto Scientist’s skin, her claws gentle enough not to cut…not yet.

Monster wanted to get away from the haunting, sterile walls and lingering smell of chemicals. She had the keys to do so, but that left Scientist here. The lab was small, and it was only her and her captor in the desolate compound of white walls, so nobody would find Scientist. While she didn’t know much about humans or what their limits were, she knew they were weak. They needed sustenance more often.

But, if Monster released her, Scientist could trap her again. For longer this time. And she’d be punished for this…

Pensively, Monster stared down at Scientist

Because if the isolation of the lab, it wasn’t uncommon that some days the two of them had nobody else to lean on during the lonely hours of the day and Scientist would come, lean on the bars of Monster’s cage, and share scraps of her food while they talked. Those times were good. Scientist sometimes brought treats—small toys or puzzles for more ‘enrichment,’ but were a genuinely nice gesture, unlike the chess games.

But then, the next moment, Monster would be restrained on the table and experimented on, screaming in agony without a flicker in Scientist’s face as she murmured and scribbled down on her notepad about the experiment.

She remembered everything that Scientist had done to her. Memories burned in her mind, bitter as acid, scarred over like a brand, and she may have been a docile creature before her capture—she may have been peaceful—but that was before she’d been experimented on and tortured.

Now, the idea of revenge sounded appealing. More than appealing.

“Monster? You know nothing I did was personal…” Scientist said softly, but there was still a tremor in her hands and a rapid beating to her heart. A heart Monster could very easily rip out. “I didn’t make it worse than necessary…you understand that, right, darling? I had to understand your species and their capabilities.”

Monster felt cornered, and she wasn’t the one restrained to a table, unable to move.

“No, you didn’t have to know, it wasn’t your place. I didn’t do anything to deserve it.”

“Of course you didn’t, darling, but sometimes there are sacrifices made for science—for expanding knowledge. If my people understand yours, then relations can improve…isn’t that a small price to pay for the overall greater good?”

“I didn’t deserve this!” Monster screamed, and Scientist flinched back as far as she could. “Only you humans care so much about…about dissecting everything and ruining it so you can understand—can’t some things just be as it is? Does there have to be an explanation for everything?!” She breathed heavily, her blood boiling. “If you’re so smart, explain to me why you deserve to live—explain to me why I shouldn’t leave you here to starve.”

That, that, made Scientist look scared. “Monster, because you’re better than humans are. You’re smart, so you understand that every action has an equal reaction. I die, if I starve here, what are the humans who inevitably find me going to think about you and your species after this? Hmm?”

Monster stared at her.

This was another game of chess, she just has to think through it—she had to find a way to outsmart her captor once more.

She rummaged in run of the drawers for that liquid she always hated—the one that made her fall asleep. Sedative, she think Scientist called it once, in an attempt to keep Monster from flailing and screeching as the needle got closer to her skin.

“Monster? You aren’t allowed in there, you know that.” Scientist said, as if her authority mattered anymore. Though, her voice had a hint of worry stronger than it had a hint of firmness.

After another minute of looking, Monster found both the sedative and a syringe.

“If you can’t die here because your humans will think badly about it, I’ll take you with me, and you’ll face my species judgment system. It’s only fair since you’ve been scrutinizing me and my society under yours.”

Monster’s heart pounded as she began to fill it up—she would go home.

She plunged the needle into Scientist’s system, despite the other’s frantic and even tearful protests, and when she was knocked out…Monster stared a little while.

She knew what her specifies would do, if she was under trial.

Scientist certainly deserved it, but Monster still thought about the nice times—the little trinkets and comforts she allowed her to have in between the pain.

———

Scientist woke up on the ground.

Blearily, she realized there was something in her hands. She unfolded her fingers and both the empty syringe and a pawn gently rolled to the dirt.

She nearly laughed.

Monster had finally won.

To anybody who’s left an ask lately, thank you so much. I’ve been lagging behind lately and I’m sorry for the wait <3

#monster x scientist #monster whumpee #scientist whumper #lab whump #escape attempt

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whumpy-wyrms · 2 months

Text

The Last Lab Rat #14: Time Flies

previous | masterlist | next

content: lab whump, captivity, sleep deprivation, escape, derealization, gore, gruesome murder, death, needles, mind control, defiant winged test subject whumpee, creepy scientist carewhumper

YAY!! YIPPEEEE!!!!!!! 😈😈😈😈

—

Tonight was the night, Dew decided. Tonight was the night he’d finally escape.

Earlier that day, he and Sasha silently communicated that they were ready. All Dew had to do now was wait until the snake slithered through the vents and into his room once Anton had gone to sleep. And then… Escape. Their plan was flawless: Crawl through the tight, dark and claustrophobic air ducts, as quiet and quickly as possible, all the way up to the surface.

All he had to do was exit the vents into Anton’s cabin, a place he was only somewhat familiar with, and steal that mind-controlling device from the scientist, then make his way outside as quiet as he’d ever have to be. All he had to do was not be seen, or heard, or caught, or hurt. All Dew had to do was escape, and then he would be free.

Dew had the relatively legible map of the air ducts memorized by now, but Sasha knew it best, so they would lead the way. Dew wasn’t going to bring anything with him. As much as he loved his music, and his sketchbook, and his ghost light, and his… chicken, it was all too much of a liability. All Dew would have with him were his glasses, clothes on his back, and his wings that made the whole escape possible.

He didn’t care if Anton found his plans in that notepad; he’d be long gone by then. He didn’t care that, technically, he’d have no evidence of ever being friends with Sasha, except the memories to hold on tightly to. Dew wished he could bring his sketchbook, wished that it wouldn’t be doomed to be buried deep underneath the ground in the lab forever. Dew’s art was a part of him, does that mean a part of him would always be stuck down there too?

…Dew supposed that whether or not he brought his sketchbook with him, it was true. A part of Dew would always be stuck in that lab. But the rest of him deserved to be free. He wouldn’t let himself be stuck in the past and let the scientist continue to ruin his life.

So that night, after Dew had fallen asleep on the couch and was carried back to his room by Anton after a surprisingly fun birthday party, Dew woke up. He lay awake waiting for Sasha to show up. And as it turned out, they slithered through the vents a lot faster than Dew thought.

“Ssspp!” Sasha hissed, getting Dew’s attention from the vents. “This is it, Dew! Are you ready?!”

“Yeah,” Dew whispered, more determined than he’d ever been. “I’m ready.”

“Sweet! Anton’s sound asleep, so this should be easy!”

“Sasha,” Dew whispered, voice shaking. “You really sure this will work?”

“Of course it will!” Sasha unlatched the vents with their tail, and peaked their head through. “Now hurry up, the sky is waiting for you!”

“O-okay! Let’s do this!” Dew took one last drink of water from the sink, and looked around the room he’d spent the last few months trapped in. He glanced out the window to the dark and empty lab and shuddered. He wouldn’t miss this place. Dew flew upwards, through the vent and into the air ducts.

The journey to the surface was simple and familiar; it was what Dew and Sasha had been practicing for the past few weeks now. They knew all the twists and turns and dead ends and drops and exits. They knew the way out, so they made no detours. They kept going.

Dew ignored that feeling of dread deep in the pit of his stomach, like something bad was going to happen, because it didn’t matter. He couldn’t go back now, and he wasn’t going to.

Dew couldn’t wait to see his friends, especially after his birthday yesterday. They were all probably so worried for him, wondering where he was. But he’d surprise them tonight!

They made it to the exit after about an hour of crawling through the cold metal tunnels. Dew never knew how claustrophobic he could be, especially with the hope that he’d soon stretch his wings and fly through the sky.

Sasha opened the latch with their tail and slithered through, letting Dew into the living room of Anton’s cabin. They were both silent, as if they rehearsed this situation countless times in their minds, and knew that any sort of talking would only reveal themselves. But that was okay, because Dew knew exactly what he had to do next.

And he was more terrified than he had ever been in his life.

Dew tiptoed to Anton’s room, taking anxious glances at Sasha on his shoulders every few seconds. He passed a few large windows, but held back from hopping out just yet. He didn’t want this to end exactly how it did last time. Sasha told him Anton was not a light sleeper, and that if they both kept quiet, this would be easy. Just in and out, quick and easy, no need to get worked up about it.

Dew twisted the doorknob, and pushed the door open with a creak. He winced, but peaked his head into the scientist’s bedroom. It was too dark to notice anything; the blinds of the window were closed, letting in very little moonlight.

Sasha slithered down Dew’s body and onto the floor, quietly moving across the light green rug and climbing onto Anton’s nightstand. They gestured with their tail to what drawer the scientist kept the mind-control contraption in.

Dew nodded and started tiptoeing closer, as quietly as he could. Dew could tell the carpet was soft, softer than anything he’d touched recently. The thought made him want to snuggle up under the covers, safe and warm with no fear of being caught. But instead, he was walking across his captor’s room— while the man slept just a few feet away from him— planning to take back what was his.

Dew arrived at Sasha, who had opened the drawer that held the device. Dew swallowed thickly, glancing at the scientist sleeping next to them. Anton was facing away, curled up in a ball under the covers. The blankets shifted up and down as he breathed, blissfully unaware of what was happening next to him.

Dew reached his hand into the drawer and pulled out the device. With a click of a button, the chip in Dew’s brain would be activated, allowing Anton to control his every action with a small murmur of a command.

He held it in his hands, close to his chest as if any wrong move would activate it and wake up the scientist, leaving Dew frozen in place, caught red handed, in Anton’s own room.

Sasha saw the fearful look in Dew’s eyes and slithered up his arm and onto his shoulders, beckoning him to get the hell out of there. Dew turned around and began to tiptoe across the floor, too afraid to look back.

There was a shift, a sound of something moving behind him, and Dew all but had a heart attack. Stomach dropping, assuming he was done for, Dew peaked over his shoulder.

He let out a sigh of relief when he saw Anton had only rolled over in his sleep. Still, it was enough to make him book it out of there. He shut Anton’s door and raced to the front door, flinging it open and stepping outside.

“We-we did it,” Dew cried happily. “We did it!”

“Not yet, destroy the thing now!” Sasha hissed.

“Right.” Dew held the device tightly in his hand, raised his arm, and smashed it into the ground. Pieces of metal and wire exploded beneath him in every direction. It was completely destroyed. Just like that, Anton couldn’t mind-control him anymore.

Dew smiled, and looked up at the sky. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, and Dew didn’t remember the last time he saw so many stars. He giggled, looked back down and kicked pieces of the device across the grass. He took a deep breath of the cool, fresh autumn air and stomped on the pieces, jumping up and down, laughing happily. He missed the sound of the fallen leaves crunching beneath his feet, and kicked them in the air like confetti. It was the middle of the night; the moon was full and bright, allowing Dew to see everything in the darkness. Dew loved full moons. It was beautiful.

Once he was calmed down, he turned to Sasha, who was coiled around the porch railing. “I can’t believe I really did it,” He said, smiling and sniffling.

“Please, Dew, fly away! Be free!” Sasha exclaimed happily.

“I… I will.” Dew took a glance at the sky, and looked back at Sasha. “I-I’m gonna miss you so much. Th-thank you. Thank you Sasha.”

Sasha giggled. “You’re welco—”

The front door suddenly slammed open. Anton stepped out, hair disheveled. He raised a tranquilizer gun.

Dew jumped, his wings taking full control. Sasha sprang towards the scientist, coiling their body around Anton’s face and briefly blinding him. Dew’s wings flapped rapidly through the air, mimicking his terrified, racing heart. Sasha grabbed Anton’s gun with their tail, flinging it away into the grass. Anton took a few steps forward. Dew was flying. Sasha coiled around Anton’s head, muffling his calls before he could yell out.

“Fly Dew!” Sasha cheered, ignoring Anton’s attempts to pry them off his face. “Fly!”

Dew blinked his tears away, and darted off into the sky.

. . .

Dew never looked back, scared that if he did, he’d wake up, and all of this would turn out to be a dream.

But it really was real this time, wasn’t it? Dew was flying. Dew was finally, finally free.

He cried for what felt like forever, fueled by adrenaline as his wings did all the work on spreading as much distance from him and the lab as possible. It was the fastest he’d ever flown before, and the highest. After an hour, he flew higher, away from the trees and into the clouds. The further he flew, the more clouds there were and the darker it got. Was it going to rain? Dew was giddy at the thought. Flying in the rain. How much fun would that be?

Dew soared through the forest, doing loop-de-loops in the sky. He loved the feeling of wind in his hair and space all around him. There was a flock of nighthawks, and Dew flew with them. He giggled as the birds squawked at him, as if he was one of their own.

Anyone walking through the forest would have heard loud laughter from above them, cries of happiness through the trees. Dew was celebrating his freedom with his fellow winged friends, and he couldn’t be happier.

Dew never got tired, and he never stopped. He wanted to look at the sky, at the bright full moon, but there were clouds. So he flew above the clouds, higher than he ever had, until he couldn’t see the ground. Dew looked around himself and was surrounded by complete nothingness; a vast abyss; a void. He was completely alone up there. It was only him, the beautiful moon, and the infinite stars above him to keep him company. It was the most at peace he’d ever felt with the universe. Up here, he was truly free.

Dew fell down into the clouds again, getting misted by the water droplets inside, and fell towards the trees. Catching himself at the split second, Dew did it again. And again. He was ecstatic! He was flying! This was the best day of his life!

As he soared through the sky and took in the amazing sights of everything he’s always wanted to see, always wanted to experience, Dew realized he was getting thirsty. He was still in the woods, so there was surely to be a river down there he could drink from.

Dew dropped down to the ground and landed gracefully into the dead autumn leaves. The second his legs touched the ground, he stumbled, grabbing a tree to balance him.

Oh. He was tired. As the adrenaline of escaping started to wear off, the events of the night started to catch up to him. Dew was tired, hungry, and his entire body was sore after flying that much. His wings were burning, begging to rest. His entire body was begging to rest after barely getting a few hours of sleep the past few days.

Dew walked through the forest, listening to the sounds of the wilderness. He missed the summer, having gotten it cut short. But fall was his favorite season. And hey, at least he’d be home for Halloween! Maybe he’d even get a costume in time.

He heard rushing water, and knelt down next to the creek. Dew cupped his hands and lapped up as much cool water as he could, then stood up.

Even though he had never been anywhere near this place before, he turned to a direction and started walking. And after a little while of gaining his energy back, he flew.

. . .

After what felt like forever, Dew had spotted civilization. He realized very quickly that there was a problem.

He couldn’t let himself be seen. Not by anyone. Not yet.

He’d been missing for months and would suddenly return with giant wings. No matter what sort of attention he’d get, none of it would be in his favor. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that scientists all over the world would kill for a chance to study his wings. There’d be no point in escaping just to be sucked back into another hell. Dew kept close to the clouds, hoping that if anybody looked up, they’d think he was just another bird.

Dew couldn’t believe how amazing flying felt, he almost didn’t want to stop. In the back of his mind, he’d thought about eventually having to convince his friends to move out to the countryside with him, so that way he could fly all the time without being seen. He was giddy at the thought that maybe, he’d eventually find a way to bring his friends into the sky with him.

But he was getting ahead of himself. He didn’t even know where he was, after all. But he followed the birds, and continued on his journey.

And then, high up in the night sky with the autumn air flowing through his wings, Dew spotted it: his house. His home. Where his friends would be waiting for him! Dew cried in joy as he soared downward, racing to the ground like a meteor, like a shooting star. Once he landed on trembling legs, he stumbled up to the front door.

Dew couldn’t believe it! He was out! He was back! He was home!

It had to be around 3 in the morning by now, so nobody was around to see him and his wings. Dew looked at the house; the place he’d been dreaming of coming back to for so long, and it didn’t feel real. Dew tried the doorknob, but it was locked.

Of course it was; his friends knew how to keep themselves safe, unlike him. If only he knew of the dangers of the night, maybe he never would have been kidnapped by the scientist. But it was no use contemplating the past. Dew instinctively checked his pockets; empty, of course. So he fished out the spare key from under the doormat, and unlocked the door. Dew didn’t bother knocking, or ringing the doorbell, or even announcing his return when he opened the door and peeked inside. He lived here too, after all.

Dew was still standing in the doorway. He took a deep breath, and then a careful step inside as if the floor would drop out and he’d fall into the vents back at the lab, as if he was still crawling through them like he’d been doing every night and all this was just his mind playing tricks on him.

But that didn’t happen, so he took another step. And then another. And then he whipped around and slammed the door shut, wincing at the loud noise it made, but quickly locking it closed. There! The scientist couldn’t get him in here! He was safe!

Dew laughed quietly, wiping the tears from his eyes. He was really home. He was home!

Dew wanted nothing more than to collapse in his warm bed and snuggle with his friends and pets in the comfort and safety of his home, because god, he was so fucking tired.

Dew took a few more steps though the house until he smelt something strange. Cake? He sniffed into the air. That was odd, but he ignored it. He walked down the hallway, not bothering to kick off his shoes he no longer had, so he didn’t notice his old pair lying next to his friends’. Dew entered the kitchen, and stopped in his tracks.

All around the room was a mess of colorful streamers and confetti. There were balloons littered around the floor and some floated to the ceiling. A half eaten birthday cake sat on the counter. Dew tripped on a piece of stray wrapping paper as he walked up to it. Written on the cake in light blue icing were the words, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY…” and he was sure there was supposed to be a name on the other side, but it had been eaten.

Right away, Dew realized there was something wrong. He expected to find his friends waiting for him, excited to finally see him after so long. He expected a reunion filled with tears of joy and happiness. But he instead got birthday party decorations, and his friends were nowhere in sight.

Dew walked further inside his house until he entered the living room. The TV was still on, playing episodes of his favorite show— the same one he had watched last night— but the volume was turned down so it could hardly be heard. Hanging on the walls was a sign that also said happy birthday, with balloons in the shape of a two and a three floating next to it.

Dew frowned, racking his brain on what all this could mean. Sure, his birthday was yesterday, but Dew had been gone— missing— for months. Surely his friends weren’t just celebrating his birthday without him. That wouldn’t make any sense. And why do all this when they could be looking for him? Why waste time with cake and… a pile of opened birthday presents… when he wasn’t there with them?

Dew’s mind raced. What the fuck was happening? Who was this all for? Why was his birthday celebrated without him? Who had opened his presents? Eaten his cake? Who did they sing to? Who made his wish?

His head pounded. He had been awake for… a very long time. Dew hadn’t gotten a full night's rest in who knows how long. Was he hallucinating? Had his sleep deprivation finally caught up to him?

Dew looked down, and his eyes widened. Sleeping on the couch, snuggled up close in a warm blanket and Sir Bonkles sleeping between them, were Dew’s best friends Hayden and Layla.

It was the first time Dew saw his friends in months, and all he wanted to do was hug them. But now, Hayden and Layla looked so peaceful sleeping there, he didn’t want to wake them up. So he didn’t. Dew was so tired now, maybe he should just ignore all of this. Maybe he should just go to sleep and pretend everything was back to normal. Besides, he didn’t feel like explaining how he got his giant wings right now. He’d rather sleep in his own bed, and rest now that he was home and safe.

Dew numbly walked to his bedroom and shut the door. Everything felt like a haze. He slid down the wall and curled up on his soft carpet. He couldn’t bring himself to cry, he just wanted to sleep.

Dew pulled himself from the floor and walked to his bunk bed. He climbed his ladder, and was just about to collapse into his soft bed when he froze— almost falling backwards onto the floor and needing to flap his wings to keep himself from losing balance.

“W-what?” He breathed. The blankets in front of him were clumped up as if there was a body underneath. As if he was sleeping there already. Dew raised his arm and poked at the lump, then shook it, then squeezed his hand and ripped the blanket from the sleeping form.

For a split second, Dew thought his friends had replaced him. Let a new friend move into their home and take his place, take his role and name and identity and birthday. But they would never do that. They loved Dew.

…But apparently not enough to tell apart the real one from the fake.

His sleep deprived brain must be making him hallucinate; that was the only explanation. Dew blinked a few times, wiped his eyes, and even pinched himself. He was still there. He wasn’t hallucinating, and this wasn’t a dream.

“Hey,” Dew said quietly, voice cracking. The body stirred, but didn’t wake up. “Hey!” He said, loud enough to wake himself up but quiet enough for his friends in the living room not to hear.

There was a sleepy murmur. The blankets shifted again as whoever was there rolled over and opened his eyes sleepily, just waking up from a peaceful slumber. And then he noticed Dew, and his entire body went rigid.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, both frozen in time taking in each other's identical features. The person in front of Dew had his same brown eyes, his same wavy brown hair, his same dark freckles, and the same look of pure terror and confusion on his face.

But there was something different. Dew looked at the man and saw himself, sure, but before. The person he saw was full of innocence and obliviousness. He did not know the horrors that Dew had faced during the last two and a half months. He did not know the pain and agony and fear Dew had to endure. He did not know the escape attempts and homesickness and how much he could possibly miss his friends. He did not know what Dew had fucking gone through.

“W-what? What the fuck? Who are you?” The fake Dew asked, sitting up and wincing as he hit his head on the ceiling. Dew was frozen, staring back in disbelief. His stare must’ve been intense, because it caused the person on his bed to back up into the corner, afraid. He was scared of Dew.

That’s right. Dew probably looked much different, didn’t he? Eyes tired and sunken from his lack of sleep, and face filled with months worth of constant fear and pain. The giant white wings protruding from his back, along with a strange blue sweater. His pants and socks were now muddy and torn from hours spent trekking through the forest.

Looking at the “Dew” on the bed was like looking into a mirror of the past. A past so far gone that Dew could hardly recognise himself. It was as if nothing had changed. As if nothing bad had ever happened to him. As if the past two and a half months were completely erased.

Dew caught himself staring— almost similar to how Anton always stared at him— because there was no fucking way any of this could be real.

“Who are you?” Dew asked brokenly.

“What? I– I’m Dew!” The man exclaimed, looking even more confused. “Who are you? What the hell are you doing in my house? Why do you look like– like… What’s going on?”

Dew ignored his questions and hopped off the ladder onto the carpet, wanting to get some space to think. He looked around the room numbly, ignoring the other Dew who had started crawling closer to the edge of the bunk bed, watching his every move.

Laying on the floor was his old hoodie, the one he recognised instantly because of the patches that were sewn into the fabric. It was the hoodie he was wearing when he was taken to the lab, the hoodie that Anton had to “throw away” for an unknown reason and replace it with hospital gowns and blue sweaters.

Dew turned his gaze elsewhere in his bedroom. There were new polaroid photos hanging up on the walls, likely taken by Layla. Dew walked closer to inspect them, noticing that he, Layla and Hayden were all in them. But Dew never remembered getting those photos taken. And he knew for sure they had never gone to whatever amusement park they were at in those photos.

He looked so happy, they all looked so happy. There were no photos of just Layla and Hayden, it was all three. Even in some love boat ride, it was the three of them. Dew’s stomach turned.

Dew ignored the sound of movement from behind him, the sound of somebody slowly and carefully crawling out of the top bunk and down the ladder. He ignored the fearful and curious eyes staring directly at him, staring at his wings. He ignored the other man standing there silently, unmoving and afraid.

Sitting on the nightstand was Dew’s old headphones and MP3 player. He could tell because they still had old, faded minecraft stickers on them, unlike the ones Anton had given him. The only thing that was different— new— were the glasses sitting on the nightstand. Anton never had taken Dew’s glasses away.

There was a card on the nightstand as well; a birthday card. Dew reached for it, and looked inside.

“Hey!” The clone said, marching closer to him and snatching the card from Dew’s hands. “That’s– that’s mine…” His voice trailed off once Dew snapped his head in his direction, silenting him with his gaze.

“What does it say?” Dew demanded.

“It– It doesn’t matter! What even– can you just tell me what’s going on? Why are you here? Who are you?”

“I’m you!” Dew exclaimed. “Can’t you tell?! Can’t you fucking recognise me?! Or did Anton take away every sense of self when he made you?!”

“I– I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You’re– You’re a clone of me! Y-you have to be! Probably made by the scientist after he took me! This is my house! This is my room! These are my things! This is my fucking life! You can’t just– you can’t– just pretend to be me! Pretend to feel how I feel, and act how I act! You can’t!”

Dew exploded in pent up tears and rage. He felt like this must be a dream, because the other Dew looked so scared, and Dew only ever looked like that when Anton was around. But he wasn’t here, because Dew was home.

“Am I dead?” The impostor asked. “Are you an angel?”

“No,” Dew spat. “We’re– we’re not dead. Everything’s fine.”

Nothing about this situation was fine. Not only was Dew sleep deprived, tired, anxious, confused and afraid, but he was also standing face to face with some sort of clone that had taken his place.

It was silent for another moment, and then, “Are those wings real?” The clone asked.

Dew’s eyes shot up, glaring at him. “It doesn’t matter,” He gritted between his teeth. This person– this thing had no idea what Dew had been through; the pain getting those wings had caused him. And this man was staring in awe at something he would never begin to understand, as if Dew was just some animal to gawk at.

"Are you real?"

Dew wasn't the only one wondering that, then. “I’m not sure,” He said blankly. Because it was true. For all he knew, this could all be a dream— hell, it felt like that more than reality. Dew would be more surprised if this was real.

“Are you me? Like, like from the future or something? Really, what’s going on?”

The questions didn't cease, and when the clone reached out to touch Dew's wings, he finally snapped.

“NO!” Dew exclaimed, slapping the man’s hand away. “Don’t you fucking dare touch my wings! You don’t know anything! You don’t know what I had to go through to get here, to– to get here and find you in my place!

“You’re not me! You’re nothing like me! You’re just– just a lie! Just a fake! You’re– you’re not su-supposed to be here! You’re not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to- to be free and with m-my friends an-and—” Dew’s words trailed off into sobs.

“...Are you okay?” The clone asked softly. Dew looked up, not realizing he was sobbing uncontrollably until his wings wrapped around his body in a tight hug. He was asking him if he was okay. After everything, after stealing his life, his clone was asking him if he was okay.

Dew’s sobs came to a stop in disbelief. He looked up, and saw the clone standing there with a thoughtful expression, someone who was trying to be nice. Pity.

“Do you want a hug?” The other Dew asked, so so gently that Dew forgot about everything and decided that, yes, he did want a hug, a hug from anyone else that wasn’t the scientist. It had been so long since the last one.

Dew nodded, wiping his tears as best he could and opened his wings. The clone stepped closer tentatively, and wrapped his arms around the other. He squeezed him tight, and Dew hugged him back, his wings wrapping around them both in a comforting embrace. Dew sobbed into his own shoulder, hugged his own body, and felt his own heart beating in a chest that wasn’t his.

But this wasn’t real comfort. If this was real, Dew couldn’t go on like this anyway. The world wasn’t big enough for two Dews; his friends wouldn’t be able to adjust to being friends with two of the same person, much less while having to adjust to… everything that had happened to him. Like having wings, for starters.

And Dew couldn’t forget what this impostor did. He stole his friends, he stole his life. He was the reason nobody was looking for him, and probably never had been. He was the reason Dew was trapped in that hell for so long, filled with a false hope that eventually, somebody would find and rescue him! But because of this clone, nobody even knew Dew was gone in the first place.

Dew’s eyes opened and drifted to his nightstand. He reached towards the drawer, and opened it quietly. There sat a small pocket knife, one he had always kept for self defense, in case anyone ever broke into his room during the night.

He never thought he’d be using it against himself, as the person who had broken in. But he also never thought he’d be experimented on by a mad scientist for two and a half months straight, and yet here he was.

Dew didn’t hesitate. He stabbed the knife into his clone’s back, making him gasp out in pain and push his arms against Dew’s body. Dew tightened his grip around him, turning the hug that had just been something comforting into something that would lead to his demise.

“St-STOP!” The clone shrieked, and Dew twisted the knife deeper into his back. The clone hissed in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and flailing under his grip.

Dew pushed his clone to the ground and pounced on top of him, planting a hand over his mouth to muffle the screams. The clone let out more strangled grunts as Dew pulled the knife out from underneath him, causing blood to spray all over them both. He stabbed him again. Tears and blood painted both of their faces until they couldn't tell who was who or what was what anymore.

Dew dug the knife into his chest and stared into those identical, wide and scared brown eyes until the light behind them went out, and he was once again the only Dew left in the world.

Dew didn't realize he had killed the man until he found his room eerily silent. The body lay still on the floor, limbs sprawled out in what one can only imagine as a desperate but futile struggle to get away. Dew sat in shock on hands and knees over his own body, tears dripping onto his own face until his sleepless brain started to register what had just happened.

Dew stood up, rapidly trying to get away from the corpse when he forgot he was still holding the knife to his chest, pulling it out of the body as he stood. Blood sloshed out and around the corpse in a pool or red.

Dew dropped the knife to the ground in disgust and horror, terrified about what he had just done. The knife clattered to the floor, laying neatly in the bloodied carpet glistening in the moonlight that shone through the windows.

Dew collapsed to the floor in despair, curling into a ball and staring at his own corpse for what felt like forever. Time and space blended together in a haze and Dew clutched his pounding head in his hands, wishing for his suffering to finally end.

He killed him. He killed him. He never wanted to kill anyone! This wasn’t supposed to happen! He wasn’t a murderer!

Dew was so lost in his own mind that he hadn’t heard the footsteps making their way through the house and to his room.

“Well…” Dread panged in Dew’s chest when he heard a familiar voice coming from the doorway. “I see you’ve met the clone.”

Dew’s blood ran cold. There was nothing else he could do.

“Dewey, Dewey, Dewey…” A dark chuckle. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” Dew tearfully looked up to see Anton, standing in his doorway.

“No,” Dew choked out, hyperventilating. “No, no no no no!” He backed up with frantic pleads, all in a hushed tone as to not wake his friends in the other room. “No, g-go away. Plea-please go away.”

Anton didn’t stop walking, and Dew was quickly backed into the wall. He pressed his back against it, ignoring his wings’ protests, just wishing he could disappear and never come back. His hysterical sobs didn’t cease, and Anton was now standing only inches away.

“L-l-leave me alone,” Dew cried between sobs. “Ge-get out, go aw-away. Please please just go away.” Dew saw Anton’s hand move from the corner of his eye, and he slid down the wall in defeat, expecting a needle to be drawn.

Instead, Anton knelt down and put his hands over Dew’s mouth, hushing his cries. Dew looked up in surprise, his wide eyes filled with fear and desperation, silently pleading up at the scientist.

“Shh,” Anton cooed. “Wouldn’t want to wake up your little friends.”

Dew blinked heavily, more tears falling down his cheeks and all over Anton’s hand, but he didn’t pull away.

“Nice room you got here.” Anton spoke quietly, almost gently, but there was a venom in his voice. He clicked his tongue. “Too bad everything’s covered in blood. Do you realize the mess you’ve made?”

Dew sobbed harder into Anton’s hand. He squeezed it tighter. “Be quiet, Dew.” Anton warned. “If your friends wake up, they won’t get out of this. Behave. You can do that, right?”

Dew squeezed his eyes shut, more tears falling, and nodded his head.

Dew felt more terrified than he had ever been in his life, which made his next moves strange. He slowly brought his hands up and put them on Anton’s wrist, slowly pulling the man’s hand down from over his mouth. Anton let him.

“P-please,” Dew whimpered. He spoke as quiet as he possibly could, leaving his voice as nothing but a small squeak. He was completely covered in blood, both his own, and the other’s. “Please, An-Anton. Please don’t hurt m-my friends, I’ll– I’ll do anything.”

Anton sighed. “What am I going to do with you? I won’t. Let's go back to the lab, I'll clean up your mess later.”

“...Back to the lab?” Dew whimpered.

“Yeah? Where else would we go?”

“I-I can’t go back there. Please.”

“You can. You will.”

Dew didn’t have the energy to argue with the scientist, and he didn’t know if he ever could again.

Anton patted his head. “Good,” He said, and smiled. Dew looked to the ground in utter defeat.

The scientist stood up and stretched. “Your sense of direction is astounding, I'm surprised you found your way back.”

Dew stood up on wobbly legs after him, sticking close to the wall. “...How- How'd you get here so fast?”

Anton shrugged, “Doesn’t matter.” He looked down at the dead body in curiosity and amazement. “Man, you really did a number on that guy, huh. Oh well. I can always make another one.” Anton chuckled.

“You cloned me.” Dew’s voice broke, face full of betrayal.

“I did tell you nobody would be looking for you, didn’t I? I know you have a lot of questions, and I don’t blame you. But I’ll answer them when we get back to the lab, alright?”

“...What are you gonna do to me?” Dew whimpered.

“What do you mean?”

“I– I escaped.”

“Ohh.” Anton sighed and ruffled his hair. “I knew about the vents, Dew. I know how hard you two worked on your little scheme, and I didn’t wanna ruin the excitement.”

“Y-you…” Dew felt sick to his stomach. “You knew?”

“Of course. I decided to play your little game. I wanted to see what would happen if I let you have some control.” Anton chuckled. “I didn’t think it’d be murder. I can’t say I’m not impressed. But you had to leave right after I threw you a whole birthday party? That hurts.”

Dew didn’t know if this could get any worse. His life was over, in more ways than one. Anton knew he was lying the whole time. There was absolutely nothing he could hide from him. There was no point in fighting anymore, Anton would always win. This was the worst day of his life.

“Like I said, I’ll answer your questions later. Let’s go.”

Dew tried to walk out his bedroom door, but just thinking about walking past his sleeping friends made him feel sick. He leaned against the doorframe, trying to gain his balance again. Anton noticed his struggles and walked up to him.

“You must be exhausted, huh? C’mere.” Dew didn’t resist as Anton picked him up into a bridal carry. The scientist walked out of Dew’s bloody bedroom and passed his friends on the couch. Dew sobbed louder when he caught sight of tranquilizer darts sticking out of their necks.

Oh. That’s why they didn’t wake up from all that screaming. Oh. Anton had been there the whole time.

“C’mon man,” Anton sighed. “I thought I told you to be quiet? Your friends are fine. I’ll get everything cleaned up before they wake up, promise.”

“Okay,” Dew squeaked. He hoped, with every ounce of hope he had left, that Anton was telling the truth.

Anton looked down at his test subject and tilted his head. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” Anton asked, though he already knew the answer. Dew nodded numbly. “...I can help you sleep. If you let me.”

Dew looked up. “Just– Just make it stop. Make everything stop.”

Anton nodded thoughtfully, pleased that his test subject was finally on the same page. “Sleep, Dewey,” Anton whispered into his ear, and continued walking.

And just like every other time Anton decided to control his mind, Dew started to succumb to sweet unconsciousness. His eyelids were growing heavy, and it was hard to keep his head up as he was carried out the front door. Dew’s frantic thoughts began to disperse, and his breathing grew slow and even; relaxed. His head lolled to the side, resting on Anton’s shoulder as he felt rain pouring down on them both. He looked to the sky, the stars, the moon, knowing he’d never see them again.

Dew could hardly keep his eyes open when Anton arrived at a car, which was parked on the street in front of his house. He couldn’t move his body when Anton laid him down on the backseat, and covered him with a blanket. The only noise he could hear was the rain pouring down as they drove into the night. And then, Dew finally fell asleep.

. . .

Sawyer had spent all night thinking about what Dew had told him earlier, at the surprise birthday party he and his friends had thrown for him. Sawyer missed him too, more than anything. Sure, Dew was happy now, with Hayden and Layla. He had confessed his year long crush on them only a few weeks ago at that amusement park they went to, and they took it as well as they possibly could. Dew was happy now, and he didn’t need Sawyer.

…But that didn’t mean Sawyer couldn’t still try. They were all polyamorous, surely they’d have room for one more, right?

Sawyer would tell Dew how much he means to him, like Dew had told him earlier. It would probably be awkward– because Sawyer was probably the most socially awkward person ever. But he couldn’t stand to hide his feelings any longer, even if it did ruin a lifelong friendship with his favorite person in the world. But knowing Dew, he’d never let that happen anyway! There was really nothing for Sawyer to worry about.

Sawyer ran through the streets back to Dew’s house, choosing to wait no more. If he wanted things to change, he would make them change himself.

Sawyer arrived at the front door, but hesitated when he heard talking coming from the other side. Sawyer wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but the voices sounded… off. He recognised Dew’s in an instant, of course, having spent his entire life listening to him talk about anything and everything. He knew Dew like the back of his hand, which made what he was hearing horrifying.

His friend sounded utterly terrified. He was crying– no, sobbing. Sawyer hadn’t heard Dew cry like that since his parents passed away years ago. Something terrible was happening and Sawyer was ready to break down the door just to comfort his best friend. But then he heard another voice, this one unfamiliar.

Sawyer put his ears to the door, trying to listen in. But the words were hushed and muffled. His heart sped up. What did this mean? What was going on in there? A very intense gut feeling stopped Sawyer from opening the door to find out. He backed away from the door when he heard the footsteps and voices getting closer. And when the doorknob started to twist open, Sawyer leaped into the bushes.

He cursed at himself. How anti-social could he be? To hide in the bushes at his friend’s house to avoid confronting him– while he was obviously going through something terrible, no less? Fuck, Sawyer wasn’t ready for any of this. It was best to just go back home.

He started crawling out of the bushes, heading towards the back of the house when he stopped in his tracks. He noticed the voices had stopped talking, but they were outside. Shit– did he get spotted? Sawyer cringed. How embarrassing…

Sawyer peaked over his shoulder and saw somebody facing away from him, walking towards the street. He crawled forward to get a closer look, stomach dropping in horror at what he saw.

It was Dew– it had to be! But he was drenched in blood and had two giant wings sticking out of his back. He was crying. But he looked so tired, resting his head against the shoulder of the person carrying him– someone Sawyer didn’t recognise.

Something was very, very wrong. Sawyer decided against confronting them, or going inside and making himself known to whoever else could be in there. He had to get out of there, or he felt like his blood would be added to the mix. Sawyer ran through the rain, back towards his home.

Sawyer and Dew had been best friends since childhood. Sawyer still remembered the day they met on the playground during recess. He couldn’t imagine a life without Dew. But now Dew was in trouble, and he was the only person who could save him. Sawyer knew something had been off with his friend the past few months, but he didn’t know what. Now, his suspicions were confirmed, and he was terrified.

The only thing Sawyer knew for sure, was that no matter what it took, he’d get his best friend back.

—

fun fact: this was one of the first Dew and Anton scenarios i ever came up with, way way back before they even had names! hahahaha! anyway i think this is like the best thing i’ve ever written i hope u all liked it hehehe :)

taglist: @whumpinthepot @shywhumpauthor @whump-me-all-night-long @whump321 @fuckcapitalismasshole @sorry-i-spaced @theelvishcowgirl @catnykit @tettlod @delicateprincepaper @rejectedbytheempty @mijajaj @anothertawogsideblog @creppersfunpalooza @toyybox @parasitebunny @bottlecapreader @thecareandkeepingofwhumpees @inkwell-and-dagger @vidawhump

let me know if you want to be removed or added to the taglist!

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ash-isnt-writing · 3 months

Text

Floral Flesh - Part 1(?)

Based off of an idea from my mutual, @p-3-t-r-1-ch-0-r / @whumpy-written-works

Characters used/Mentioned: Dr. Maven Heltrine (OC), TS-0019 Valerian Andersen (OC), other unnamed OCs.

A/N: Actually may make this into a series as well. Unsure as of right now.

STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

The lab boys, as the majority of staff called them, came up with a new ‘prototype’ yet again, under a theory if their newest subject was able to produce and sustain flora.

Dr. Heltrine was the one that had the ‘pleasure’ of testing the prototype. Of course the thought of strapping someone down and injecting them with a serum as unstable as their security system wasn’t a pleasant one, it was his job as the head of the prototype department, and he enjoyed it.

Valerian wasn’t as keen about the idea, rightfully so.

He wasn’t just gonna let this happen. Kicking, struggling, and screaming, he tried everything to get away from this. However, the moment he saw a duo of Handlers enter, he lost his spirit, eventually giving in as he was strapped down to the exam bench.

“Now, here’s how this is gonna go” Dr. Heltrine explained, preparing a needle with the swirling green and brown serum of god knows what. “We’re gonna inject you with this prototype, and leave you here for a week. Th-“

“Wait- wait, what?” Valerian interrupted, angrily. “A week?! That’s not fair-!”

“QUIET!” Heltrine snapped, hushing Valerian immediately. “..As I was saying; Then, we’ll return, and see the effects, and adjust accordingly. The goal is to see if your… biology, is able to support plant life.”

“This- this is insane-“ Valerian stuttered out, even though he knew anything he said would be immediately brushed off.

“No, ‘19” Heltrine grinned, flicking the needle as he pressed a thumb to his wrist, found his pulse, and then aligned the needle accordingly. He had to admit, feeling the other’s pulse increase under his thumb was exhilarating, especially of something so inhuman. “It’s science.”

Valerian let out a choked cry as the needle sunk into his skin, a burning rushing through his body.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

#whump #whumpee #inhuman whumpee #test subject whumpee #valerian andersen #whumper #scientist whumper #maven heltrine #lab whump #science whump #sts laboratories #oc #oc whump #cw needles #cw restraints

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inkwell-and-dagger · 3 months

Text

The lab was all Ruaridh knew.

Not even their own name. They were only called "Subject" here, not that. They supposed that should've been a bad thing, to not have a shred of autonomy in this painful, horrid life, but.. to them, it was normal. In fact, they were used to it. The constant whirring of scientific devices helped them sleep at night, and they loved the foreign feeling of paper beneath their fingertips, the gentle sound of pages turning as they delved into another book. That was really the only thing they had to keep themself occupied.

They'd never been outside. The unfortunate test subject was taken early enough that they couldn't remember anything of their old life; only the lab remained in their memory. Sure, they'd read plenty of books about all types of fauna and flora, and a tiny window in their cell confirmed that there was life outside of this mundane laboratory. But the window was far too high up to see anything but the sky, changing from blue, to white, to grey depending on the day. Sometimes, they'd hear a gentle patter of something on the roof of the hidden lab, and it frightened them for a while — but they were used to it now. Apparently, it's called rain.

Surprisingly, they'd never, ever thought of escaping. You would think they would've, considering they spent countless days being injected and experimented on, dragged from room to room in this endless labyrinth run by one, horrible being, to be cut open and examined, assessed meticulously for 'changes'. Sure, it was painful, but they thought that was normal. That all of this was normal. Being chained to the corner of a dark, dingy cell, having to make a little nest in the corner out of blankets to sleep in at night, hardly even knowing what the feeling of sun on his scarred, almond skin would feel like — it was all normal.

Until it wasn't. Until their beliefs began to change.

Until they began to change.

At first, it was just a general aching. Their limbs hurt, and no amount of rest would fix it. Their gums seemed to pulse in pain, to the point they couldn't stand eating for a couple days. Even then, their appetite seemed to diminish, and suddenly they weren't very interested in being fed whatever 'nutritional' bullshit the scientist gave them. Everything hurt; down to their fingers, they felt stiff with discomfort. The scientist would just scribble something down in a notepad when they tried to ask for some kind of relief.

Then, their senses grew more sharp. It was painful, to say the least. They began to see every little crack in the walls of their cell, every speck of dust on the little window, every dried drop of blood still remaining on their loose hospital gown. The poor lab rat could hear everything, from the aggressive rustling of documents and files, piles of pages dedicated to their suffering, from outside of their cell. Their own shallow breaths in sync with their captors. It was sickening.

But nothing would've prepared them for the actual process. The sound of the fragile bones in their frail body cracking and moving, arms elongating and bending backwards until Ruaridh was sure they'd crack. Fingernails growing into claws, fangs replacing their canines. They weren't used to this body — this monster that had replaced them. Their legs were too weak to support their own weight, having to use all four limbs to move around. The tail— oh God, the tail. A searing pain penetrating their senses, a pulsing agony in their lower torso and forehead, until blood coated the floor as new appendages sprouted out of their very skin.

They couldn't help but wail for the first few days after their change. Every movement was agonizing for them, every attempt at talking was met with only small noises. The floor felt too hard under their skin, the hospital gown too itchy for their liking, but they still possessed enough dignity to keep it on.

This wasn't normal, the remaining part of their conscience would scream. It wasn't normal to put an innocent human into this sort of torture, to turn an innocent human into a husk of their former self, a broken monster that would just be thrown out onto the streets. And that was exactly what had happened to them.

The foreign concept of rain pattering steadily down on their skin as they grew accustomed to their new body, they spent months trying to survive on the streets of this new, frightening place. Strange devices and 'vehicles' made them wince as they screeched past, unfamiliar voices and faces staring down at them in disgust or fear. They kept to alleyways, narrow places, just so they wouldn't be seen. The rain wouldn't stop.

Ruaridh couldn't remember the last time they ate. The last time they'd looked into someone's eyes and hadn't felt fear, or shame, or embarrassment. The last time they smiled. The last time they slept peacefully. The last time they walked only on their two feet. The last time they were in a warm, albeit dingy, room. The rain wouldn't stop.

The alley was, what one would call, a home. Sure, it was cramped and dark and sometimes people would pass them and be afraid of this frail, disfigured monster, but it was the only place they had. The only place they felt was even somewhat safe. The rain wouldn't stop.

They were used to the footsteps. Used to the laughing, or the alarmed sounds of fear, or being ignored entirely. But one pair went closer than the others.

The rain stopped. They heard it pattering, but they couldn't feel it on their skin, on their head, soaking their hair and hospital gown until they were a shivering mess. No, they were being covered. An umbrella, perhaps.

Yes, an umbrella.

"You poor thing. Let's get you inside."

° • ^ ° • ^ ° • ^ ° • ^ ° •

just a quick little rundown of my new OC'S lore, Ruaridh Mullen!! I love them so much <33

#ruaridh mullen #Uilebheist A Rinn An Duine #whump #whump oc #oc whump #whump writing #writing #oc writing #monster whumpee #monster whump #nonhuman whumpee #lab whump #scientist whumper #captive whumpee #rescued whumpee #whump community #whump drabble #whump series

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clickerflight · 10 months

Text

Oh, how far you've fallen Part 2

I'mma go ahead and call this story uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, actually, IDK. I'm pretty sure I'm gonna continue this story for a bit so if you come up with a good title for this, let me know.

Also, I hope this all makes sense. I've been really out of it today so hopefully that doesn't reflect in my writing. I was fighting for my life figuring out what happened next and then made potential for a whole series. Wild times out here.

Content warning: somewhat dehumanization? Kidnapping. For sure selling someone into being a lab rat, electrocution

Part 1

.........................................

Agent/Henchman - Ivan/Gale

Villain - Kolt

Scientist - LeAnn

…………………

Kolt was so incredibly delirious, but thankfully was too tired to struggle in Ivan’s arms. Ivan was convinced that Kolt didn't even know what was going on. He murmured indistinguishable words as Ivan carried his old mentor’s impossibly thin frame through the halls of the labs, outrunning the flashlights behind them.

Ivan turned a corner, the map of the building clear in his mind. He did everything he could to keep from being cornered. He only had one chance here.

Well, less than one chance, really. He was royally screwed no matter if he succeeded or didn’t since being here was an extreme middle finger to his handler. But that didn’t matter now. What mattered was each new breath, each new step that didn’t slip on the slick tile, each new heartbeat he could feel under Kolt’s skin.

The fire escape came into view and a relieved laugh bubbled out of Ivan, mimicked softly by Kolt. He shouldered his way through, alarms screaming through the building making Kolt flinch. Down the stairs, leaping down onto a dumpster in the alleyway, and he was off.

He was in the clear now.

Well, he thought he was.

A dark van pulled up, blocking the alley, and equally dark clothed men came pounding out of it, guns in hand.

Ivan was torn between running and staying still to try and explain himself to his agency. His choice was made for him when Kolt whimpered, pressing his horribly scarred and bruised face into his shirt, trembling. Ivan sighed, letting the tension drain from his muscles and he stood still as the agents took his weapons from him and led him into the van.

With that, they were off.

The getaway vehicle was, admittedly, convenient.

……………………

“Terribly sorry for keeping you up, Kate,” Ivan said, a little ashamed as he stepped out of the van, still holding Kolt who refused to let go of him.

Kate stood with her arms crossed and her eyebrow raised. “That’s all you have to say? Ivan, do you not remember how long we’ve been working in that lab? You have quite possibly ruined everything we have been working on for months!”

Ivan didn’t reply, simply shifting Kolt in his arms so she could see the scars and injuries he carried on his frail body. Kolt was nearly unconscious at this point.

She frowned. “Kolt?”

“Yeah,” Ivan said, tucking Kolt against himself again, sharing his body warmth with the man in a way he had never imagined he would. He had never imagined Kolt being small enough for him to carry in the first place.

Kate frowned thoughtfully. “Come on,” she sighed. “We’ll figure this out inside.”

They walked through the underground garage, Kate's heels echoing around them as Ivan watched her walk ahead. He had no idea how this was going to play out. He remembered what happened when he was captured back when he was still Gale. He had the scars to remember it by. Would they do the same to Kolt? There was no way. He was so fragile. Besides, Ivan doubted that Kolt even remembered anything interesting and had been trapped in that building for long enough that he wouldn’t know anything that had happened in the last few months in the villain community.

Kolt was finally unconscious as they reached the elevator, and only a couple of the darkly clothed agents joined them in the elevator as the others headed to go take their gear off. There was silence in the elevator for a moment before Ivan cleared his throat.

“So, what happens now?”

“We will discuss that when my guest gets here.”

“Alright, but Kate. Please keep in mind that he’s-”

“I understand, Ivan,” she snapped, not even turning to look at him. “But you are not in a position to ask for anything for him. Understand me? I appreciate why you have done this, however, that does not change the fact that you are most certainly in trouble and have made my job much harder.”

Ivan huffed silently, annoyed but he didn’t dare argue with his handler. He stared at his reflection, still horrified with how tiny Kolt had become. He’d been taller and more bulked than Ivan. He had been intimidating, once, though you wouldn’t be able to guess that now.

The door opened and Kate led the way down to the med bay. “Drop him off here. You’re coming with me to speak with my guest.”

Ivan gave her a look and very reluctantly lay Kolt down, coaxing his unconscious fingers out of his clothing and into the sheets on the bed. A medic came out from the back, rubbing his eyes and he winced when he saw Kolt.

“See what you can do for him,” Kate told the medic, who nodded.

Ivan hesitated for one moment before he followed Kate back to the elevator. The silence this time was longer and more uncomfortable. Ivan was glad when they reached the conference floor. He wanted to get his reprimand over with.

Kate turned into one of the rooms and Ivan froze.

Dr. LeAnn stood up, a prim smile on her face. “Hello, Kate,” she said as one of the agents shoved Ivan into the room, putting a hand on his shoulder and trying to guide him to the seat next to where Kate was getting seated.

“What’s going on here?” Ivan asked, voice trembling with anger as he shook off the agent’s hand.

Kate sighed. “Ivan, sit down.”

“No! What is she doing here?!”

Kate shared a look with Dr. LeAnn. “Ivan, we have been working on infiltrating that lab for months. LeAnn was our informant on the inside in exchange for a favor.”

“Oh, so your name is Ivan?” LeAnn said, eyeing him over. She curled her lip and said, “You shouldn’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. I hear you were Kolt’s dog for a while. One would think you would know how to obey after all of that.”

Ivan hissed, his anger becoming incomprehensible.

Kate sighed. “See what I’ve had to work with? I do apologize for all of that. There is an issue, however. Kolt cannot go back with you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” LeAnn asked, turning her anger on Kate as agents held Ivan back.

“You have damaged him far past the point the contract has allowed. And according to the records we have from your conversation with Ivan, you have allowed him to become useless. We asked you to turn him into a weapon, not do this to him.”

“Trust me, I tried,” LeAnn said with a shrug. “Weapons take the right base to make, and he wasn’t it. He broke before I wanted him too, and I wasn’t even getting started. I did, however, learn a lot about his genetics. All I need is a base who will withstand more than he could and I could give you a weapon per the contract.”

“Kate,” Ivan growled warningly. She glared over at him.

“Shut up, Ivan. I am trying to clean up the mess you made here.”

“You were trying to turn him into a weapon!? What could you possibly want him for!?”

Kate closed her eyes, taking a slow and steadying breath like she was talking with an impossible child, and Ivan started seeing red as indignation fueled the fire already started in him.

“Ivan, to fight villains, sometimes you need a villain weapon. Is it that hard to understand?”

LeAnn was eyeing him again, something hungry in her eyes as Ivan tried to keep his anger at bay, the fear that dropped into his stomach helping somewhat.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, we are,” LeAnn said. “You’re lucky I have so much pull at the lab. I should still be able to pull enough trust to continue using their equipment and experiments after this debacle… that is, Kate, as long as I start working on a project.”

Kate looked between LeAnn and Ivan and Ivan felt the fear of God enter into every cell in his body, images of Kolt’s wretched state flashing behind his eyes.

“No! NO NO! There is NO way that I am going to HRNGG-”

Ivan fell to the floor twitching as two agents held stun batons to his ribs.

Kate clicked her tongue, watching Ivan writhe on the floor. “He might make a good base. He handled training here surprisingly well. I’ll just need to call the boss and get permission first.”

LeAnn nodded, that hungry look in her eyes becoming ravenous as the agents let up and Ivan lay gasping on the floor.

Ivan came to his senses as a soft ringing tone sounded from Kate’s phone, the silence stretching on as he tried to get his limbs to work for him and get him off the ground, to escape, to find Kolt, to anything.

Someone picked up and Kate began. “Hello, it’s Handler Kate. You are aware of the incident, correct?”

Silence.

“Dr. LeAnn is requesting Ivan. She thinks she can give him Kolt’s powers and turn him into the weapon.”

Silence.

“Yes, sir. We have Kolt in custody. Dr. LeAnn’s professional opinion is that he will be useless for the project.”

“No,” Ivan said weakly, getting his arms underneath him, but someone put a heavy boot on his back and shoved him back down, making it hard to draw a full breath.

“Yes, sir. Thank you. Would you like us to get rid of Kolt?”

“No, I might need him for extra DNA,” LeAnn said quickly.

“Ah, nevermind. Dr. LeAnn said she still might need him.”

Silence.

“Perfect. Good evening, sir.”

She ended the call and smiled at LeAnn. “Well, he’s all yours.”

“Perfect,” she said with an excited though professional lilt to her tone. “You heard her boys. Get him ready for transport.”

Ivan scrambled at the floor, the plastic threads of the carpet scratching at his fingers as he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and then he knew no more.

Part 3

Taglist: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

#henchman whumpee #scientist whumper #villain whumpee #handler #whump #writing #not too much whump in this one #set up for stuff in the long run #dude #I'm in so much pain RN #mmy body is not being very cash money right now

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