AlysCat

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TW: Noncon kissing, noncon touch, post-punishment, punishment, conditioned whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, insectphobia, mentions of previous whump, references to past lab whump (I think that's it????? If I missed any let me know!!)

Note: In this chapter, Diana switches between referring to herself as Diana and EI427. They are the same person. If you haven't read previous chapters, EI427 was her 'name' at the institution where she was born and raised to be a living weapon!!!!

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Damien had a Table Room, like the REIA did. This Table Room was messier than the REIA’s, but it still had a metal table in the center. There were counters and shelves with different bottles, shots, IVs, scalpels, and things EI427 had never been given the names for. EIs didn’t need to know the names of medical objects, after all. Damien had all of those things, but his Table Room was a little different. For example, in his Table Room, the entire back wall was covered with dead insects pinned in place. Each insect had a careful index card beneath it with neat, tiny print. She couldn’t read what it said from her spot on the table, though. His Table Room smelled like cigarette smoke. It also had strange green lighting instead of the too-bright lights of the REIA Table Room. 

When Damien carried her into his Table Room, he set her on the metal table before going to the counter and lighting a cigarette. Only then did he begin to work. He wrapped her shattered foot in white gauze, then strapped a brace around it. He was talking while he did this, maybe, but Diana’s ears were ringing, and she couldn’t hear him. When he was finished, he slipped out of the room again.

At the REIA, when EI427 would be brought to the Table Room, it was for experiments and operations, and things that were always painful. So Diana was no stranger to pain. It was simply that over the last few months, she didn’t have anywhere near as much pain. Maybe that was why it hit her so hard. Because lying here, as she felt her body begin to tremble and her head swim, she knew she wasn’t responding well. The Academy trainers would have been disappointed.

The room was so cold.

The door swung open, and Damien returned with a hoodie and a water bottle. He took a drink before setting it down on a counter. Seeing the water made her lick her lips, though she knew better than to ask. She was just… So thirsty, and her stomach was cramping with hunger, but the thought of eating made her nauseous. Pain did that to you, as EI427 had learned while in training. 

He stepped towards her. She was still shaking, goosebumps on her skin, and she tried to stop but she couldn’t. The metal table creaked as Damien sat beside her. “Here, try to sit up now, love.”

Her head spun as Damien’s hand settled on her back, guiding her actions. But she did as told. She was a good girl. She knew how to be a good girl. Her limbs robotically moved as Damien directed. He pulled the sweater over her head. It was warm. Soft. A light gray, with black swirls on it. When she looked down to study the fabric, her icy eyes widened. The swirls were moving. It was covered with ants. 

“Good job. That’s better, isn’t it?” Damien cooed, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her neck. 

Her trembling intensified, and she could only be grateful as Damien let her fall back against the table’s surface. It was cold. Hard. Her head thudded on the metal. But if she looked at the hoodie any longer, she was going to be sick. Don’t look at the sweater. At least if she didn’t, Diana could pretend her skin was crawling with fear rather than literal bugs. She squeezed her eyes shut against the green-tinted light overhead. There were probably bugs in the lightbulbs, too. They were everywhere. Everywhere, every….

Something caressed her jaw. More bugs? God, make it stop, make it—

The table creaked. She forced herself to look up. 

Damien was crouched over her, his knees straddling her hips. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. Her powers were blocked again, and his face was unreadable, but… But Damien was smiling down at her. The sensation on her jaw returned, and she realized it wasn’t bugs. It was Damien’s thumb. Caressing her jaw, tracing up until it drew across her lips.

Despite herself, Diana recoiled. Her shoulders hunched together as she crossed her arms protectively over her chest. Immediately, the ants shifted to climb over her forearms like they were a new skyscraper to explore. Stop, stop, stop….

Say something, Diana. Fucking say something!

“You’ve been so good for me, Diana,” Damien sighed, his thumb exploring the curve of her lips. Her eyes burned with unshed tears as the tip of his finger slid into her mouth. “I know that pain seems like punishment to you. After everything you’ve been through… It makes sense. I understand, baby. But I want you to know this isn’t punishment. You just don’t know what’s good for you yet.”

His nail scraped against her teeth. Diana’s breath hitched, and she turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut again as she tried to curl in on herself. But her mummified foot shifted on the table, and it shot fire up her leg, and she couldn’t help a small cry as she froze again.

Where could she go? She could try to avoid Damien touching her, but she was stuck beneath him on a table. In his territory. Even if somehow Diana could walk, his creatures would be upon her in seconds.

Say something. Speak, just… Just say you’re tired. It was true. She was tired, beyond exhausted, but dammit, she couldn’t force her mouth to work yet. She tucked her chin against her chest and lifted her shoulders, as if that could somehow shield her.

The weight of Hive’s body settled on her hips as he sat on her. Ants crawled up the sweater; she could feel them on the back of her neck, and she couldn’t breathe. Maybe Diana was imagining it. 

She knew she wasn’t.

“Diana,” Hive sighed, and he was disappointed. It was in his voice. Sad and disappointed, his hand settled on her shoulder. His other hand fisted in her hair, forcing her to look at him.

Her eyes stayed tightly squeezed shut. It was all too much. Couldn’t he just… Just leave her alone, please? Diana just… Just needed to be left alone, needed to sleep and breathe and not feel him touching her, he was touching her, and the bugs were on her and….

“Diana,” he repeated, his voice sharper this time. He gripped her hair tighter, until her scalp burned, and she kept her eyes squeezed shut.

She needed to look at him. She was supposed to look at him; that’s clearly what he wanted, wasn’t it? But why didn’t he say so? Tell her what she was supposed to do, he should tell her, cause Diana wanted to be a good girl, but the hand on her shoulder was moving now. It was soft. Featherlight as it drifted lower, to where her arms were crossed over her chest. He tried to peel her arms away, and she didn’t want them to move; she didn’t want him to touch her, but her limbs obeyed Hive’s unspoken command.

Fingers squeezed her breast through the ant-covered sweater. “Look at me,” he breathed, and her eyes opened at the command just as he leaned forward to press his lips against hers.

Ice filled her veins. The hand in her hair softened, still holding her in place, but not quite as painfully. He was kissing her. He was…. His tongue probed her lips, and without thinking, Diana opened. 

She was a good girl. She knew how to be a good girl, and he wanted her mouth open, so she opened her mouth. 

And then Damien was kissing her harder, his tongue sliding in her mouth, and then he was biting her lip, and it was all sharp and teeth and claiming…. Yes, claiming. That’s what it was. And she was frozen, paralyzed, as he was kissing her and his hand was on her chest, sliding under the sweater, groping her breasts. Damien sighed against her mouth. His hips began to rock back and forth, grinding against her….

It was too much. She wasn’t meant to do this, it… It didn’t feel right; it felt wrong. The realization clicked into place. Wrong. This was wrong. She didn’t want to do this; it was wrong. 

Diana jerked her head back and shoved at his chest with both hands. She was panting, eyes wide, and spit covered her mouth, and she immediately began to swipe at her lips in disgust. “No. No, Damien.”

He was still straddling her, and she couldn’t go far. Her foot made sure of that. But Diana pushed herself to a sitting position despite the throbbing pain in her leg and head, her heart racing. Damien said he wasn’t her new handler. If he wasn’t a handler…. She could say no. 

Right? No one had kissed her before. Handlers didn’t do that, but… But she was supposed to listen, but it felt wrong. She didn’t want him to touch her like that. 

His dark eyes flashed as he climbed off her trembling form. For a moment, silence hung between them. The tension was sharp enough to cut with a knife. Then, just like that, it snapped. Damien was shaking his head as he knelt beside the metal table, his hand immediately stroking her hair. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right, baby… I shouldn’t have done that so quickly,” he soothed. 

Her eyes widened. She squirmed slightly, but his hand moved with her, incessantly petting her. “It isn’t your fault. You still haven’t been away from them for very long… You don’t know how to accept love, poor thing. I need to be more patient. It isn’t your fault.” Skin crawling. Panting. Trembling.

Bugs buzzing. Ants crawling over her.

Moths fluttered around Damien’s head. Damien leaned closer, nuzzling against her neck and planting soft kisses on her collarbone. The moths followed him. Two landed on her face.

His hand pet her hair.

Diana shook her head, and he didn’t move. She whimpered, and he didn’t stop. Stop. She wanted him away, she hurt, she was tired, he was touching her, and it was wrong.

He was touching her. 

It was wrong.

“No!” Diana said again, and this time, it was a scream. She shoved him as hard as she could, and he stumbled back, finally releasing her. His hands were off. His hands were off of her. “No, don’t touch me! I want-I want you to leave me alone!”

The understanding and devotion vanished from his face in an instant. Fury contorted his features.

Her heart raced. Mistake. This had been a mistake. Damien lied…. He was like the REIA. Like her handlers. It didn’t matter what she wanted, even though it should have mattered. She was supposed to be like a person. She was supposed to be a person. That’s what she learned after she fled the REIA. That’s why she escaped, why she tried to be free. 

It wasn’t fair.

“You want to be left alone, baby?” Damien said lowly, cocking his head to the side. He flicked his wrist, and the ants that coated the sweater and her skin all crawled off at once in a swarm. Every insect in the room followed. The moths, the spiders, the fireflies buzzing around the ceiling. “Did they break you that much? You’d rather be alone?” His voice broke on the last word, before hardening again. A hand stretched out towards the open door. “Fine. I’m not the villain here, Diana. I will give you what you want.”

Three giant wasps came flying in. They were the genetically engineered ones—twice the normal size, with inflated, green-striped abdomens. The wasps that drained her powers away. Her eyes widened at the sight, and she was left silent again. Voice fleeing her because good girls don’t beg.

Good girls accept their punishment.

With a crook of his finger, the wasps flew towards Diana. They landed on her shattered foot. Just the slight pressure of their tiny bodies made spots swim in her vision, and Diana shoved her fist in her mouth. Don’t scream. Good girls don’t scream, good girls don’t scream… The insects moved, probing between the wrapping until they found bare skin. 

Their stingers pierced her skin, one after the other. She bit down hard on her hand as she fell onto the table again, back arching, a silent scream begging to escape. Her vision turned black. Nausea churned in her gut, and she was going to throw up, she was going to throw up. Damien’s hand gently stroked her sweat-slicked forehead. “I’ll leave you alone now, love. You don’t see it now… But this isn’t a punishment. This is for your own good.”

A strangled sob escaped her as she writhed on the table. She couldn’t breathe, and the door slammed shut. The click of a lock followed. 

Even the quiet hum of the insects was gone. They had left with Hive. The only sound in the dim room was her own pants and sobs.

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I don’t like writing kidnapping scenessssss it’s boring for me!!!!!!! I just wanna jump straight into the whump😩😩😩

Is a kidnapping chapter necessary, or do you think it can sort of be implied/skipped? And if you enjoy writing the kidnapping scenes, what tips do you have? What do you like about writing them?

TW: Child whumpee, lab whump, procedure done without anesthesia, manipulation, emotional whump, electric shocks, living weapon in training, comfort object taken. (Let me know if there's anything else I should add!)

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The table was cold beneath EI427, especially in the paper gown she had to wear. It was a rule in the Table Room. Whenever she was in here, she had to wear the paper gown. It was okay, though, because she was allowed to have her comfort item when in the Table Room, too. Goosebumps covered her skin, and she hugged her stuffed bunny tightly. She hadn’t seen a bunny before, but when she chose her comfort item, the scientist told her that’s what it was. A bunny. Her bunny was soft, like the cotton balls they used to stop blood after a shot, so EI427 had named it Cotton. Cotton had an actual name, like the scientists. Cotton wasn’t an EI Subject like EI427 was. 

Shifting uncomfortably, EI427 stared down at Cotton. It wasn’t the same, pure white color as actual cotton balls. She didn’t quite know what color it was. The closest comparison EI427 had was to old bandages. When wraps were first put on someone, they were clean white. After some time, though, they were dirty. It was like… If brown, yellow, and white were mixed together. That was similar to the color of Cotton’s fur. 

Doctor Crabtree turned to face EI427. He wasn’t one of the scientists she had met before, and he had a mask over his mouth and nose, so she couldn’t really see his expression. There was also a funny-looking hair net on his head. All EI427 could make out were big, fuzzy eyebrows, and he was big beneath his Scientist Outfit. Broad shoulders, muscly arms, and big, meaty hands that held a clipboard. “EI427, we’ll be performing a bone marrow biopsy and aspiration today.”

She expected his voice to be rough, but it was really soft. Gentle. Slowly, EI427 eased the death grip she had on Cotton. “What does-”

“Hush now, I will explain,” he scolded. While his voice was still calm, his eyebrows tightened in an angry line. Her shoulders hunched together as he continued, an edge entering his tone. “In this procedure, we will collect samples from your bone. The needle will enter here—” 

The hand that didn’t hold the clipboard patted his hip. “We’ll use this to look at how your body is making blood.”

From behind him, EI427 saw one of the nurses prepping a needle. It was really, really big. Her eyes widening, she recoiled from Dr. Crabtree and hugged Cotton as tightly as she could. It was going to hurt. She really didn’t like needles, but when they took blood, it was a tiny needle. This one was big.

Seeing her fear, the doctor patted her knee. The paper gown made a crunchy sound at his touch. “You will be still,” he said softly. “It will be uncomfortable, but it won’t last long. Do you understand?”

Her lower lip trembled, but she forced herself to nod. “Yes, sir,” EI427 whispered.

“Good girl.” Doctor Crabtree stood from his stool. He was really tall, towering over her. She found herself relieved when he turned away to pull on the blue gloves. “Lay down on your stomach. You will be restrained for this procedure, so you cannot hold your comfort object. Would you like the nurse to position it where you can still see it?”

She couldn’t hold Cotton? A tear rolled down her cheek as she squeezed her bunny so hard, her arms trembled. “I will stay still,” she pleaded. “I’ll be so good, I promise, you don’t-you don’t have to tie me. Just let me hold it, please.”

But the door opened, and two more nurses entered the room to join the nurse prepping the needles. There was a second needle now. EI427’s entire body was shaking now, and she hugged her knees to her chest, squeezing Cotton between her legs and her belly. One of the nurses was a woman. She was plump, dark-skinned, and had a kind face. She was smaller than Dr. Crabtree. 

The nice nurse knelt in front of EI427’s table, smiling softly. Another tear escaped her eyes, and the nurse wiped it away. “I know, it seems scary,” the nurse said. “But you’re a good girl, aren’t you? Everyone told me that EI427 is a very, very good subject.”

“I….” The subject nodded, sniffing once. “I am.”

“I thought so. See, I know you’re scared, but I need you to be brave. This is just one of your checkups.” She smiled at EI427, then scrunched up her face and stuck out her tongue.

A little giggle escaped EI427’s lips. Smile growing, the nurse shrugged. “That’s it! We need to see how strong you’re getting. You want to be strong, don’t you?”

The nurse stood as EI427 nodded. Slowly, she unclenched her trembling body. One of her fingers anxiously rubbed Cotton’s fur. “I do, I just…. I want to hold Cotton.” 

“I know you do, but strong girls also need to be brave. It might hurt a little, but heroes are brave. Heroes don’t argue, and they stay quiet when it hurts.” Her eyebrows weren’t bushy, like Dr. Crabtree’s. Her eyebrows were little lines. She raised one in a question. “Aren’t you a hero?” 

She was supposed to be. Swallowing, EI427 nodded again. Heroes don’t argue. Heroes stay quiet when it hurts. She… She could do that. “I can still see Cotton, right?” EI427 whispered. 

The nurse patted E I427’s knee as she gently pried away the comfort object. “Of course, you can still see it. Cotton will be safe. Now, can you be a good girl and lie down on your belly?”

Her eyes darted around the room. Nice Nurse was the only other girl. The other nurses were big, strong people, like Doctor Crabtree. EI427’s powers were weak because she was still weak. She wasn’t strong enough for her powers. Not strong enough to fight the scientists. Some of the other EI subjects tried to fight the doctors, but it never worked. If they tried, nurses forced them onto the table. They still had to do the procedures, and then they were punished afterward. EI427 didn’t want to be punished. 

She lay down. There was a little opening in the table for her face, so she could see the floor. Nice Nurse’s shoes. A gentle hand pet her hair, then Cotton was set down on the tiled floor right beneath her head so EI427 could see it.

Cotton wasn’t an EI subject. Cotton had a name. Cotton would never have procedures done. But…. But EI427 shouldn’t be jealous. Cotton would never be a hero, and if she was a good girl, she’d be a hero. That was a very important job. So it was okay that she had to do procedures.

The back of her gown was untied, making goosebumps rise on the bare skin. Rough hands grabbed EI427’s wrists. She didn’t fight as they pulled her arms back, and fastened them to the side of the table. Then her ankles. Then, finally, a restraint that pulled over her back to keep her in place. Her breaths were coming too fast. 

Focus on Cotton. 

Be a good girl. Good girls have to be brave.

Heroes are brave. Heroes don’t argue. Heroes stay quiet. 

Something cold swiped over her hip, and EI427 stiffened, squeezing her hands into tight little fists. It was going to hurt a little. But she could be good, she could sit here and be good, and—

The needle pressed into her skin. This wasn’t unusual; she’d had a lot of blood taken before. It hurt, but it was the kind of pain she was used to.

Except this needle kept going. It didn’t stop. 

Her fingers twitched against the restraints. A small, startled breath hitched in her throat as the pressure grew, deeper and deeper, pushing against something really hard, like stone. What was it doing, why didn’t it stop, shots always stopped!

But this didn’t. It pushed and pushed until it broke into something inside that wasn’t supposed to give—and then it kept pushing anyway.

The pain changed. Sharp and deep, it wasn’t like a needle in her skin it was…. It was under her skin, something that wasn’t supposed to be touched, and the needle stayed there—

A broken cry tore out of her before she could stop it. 

Her body jerked against the restraints, panic flooding her chest as the sound echoed too loud in the room. Heroes stayed quiet when it hurt. Good girls acted like heroes. Her eyes flew open, blurring with tears as she sucked in a shaking breath, trying to swallow the rest of it down—

“EI427.”

Doctor Crabtree’s voice was calm. Disappointed. The needle shifted slightly, like he’d let go of it, but it was still inside her hip. The small movement made another little cry escape her, despite the terror churning in her belly.

“You were given clear instructions.”

Her stomach dropped. She couldn’t breathe. “I—” The word came out in a sob. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I’m sorry—”

Something cold snapped around her neck. For a split second, nothing happened. Then electricity tore through her.

Her back arched violently, a strangled scream tearing through her throat as the shock ripped through her muscles. She strained at the restraints, screaming and crying, and the pain just kept growing until it stole the air from her lungs. 

“Quiet,” the doctor said.

She bit down hard, until her teeth hurt. Blood filled her mouth but the scream stopped. Slowly, like turning off a faucet, the current cut off. Her whole body was trembling. Her lungs burnt for air, but she was so scared of making another sound. She tried to breathe through her nose.

“Maintain control.”

The needle was still inside her.

Tears fell down her cheeks. 

They made little puddles around Cotton beneath her.

Maintain control. Her mind reeled, trying to catch up, trying to remember—rules, rules, what were the rules—

Heroes don’t argue. Heroes stay quiet when it hurts.

A sob hit her chest. She swallowed it down, choking on it, forcing her lips shut so tight they hurt. If she opened her mouth, she’d cry, or scream, and then the electricity would come back.

“Good,” someone murmured.

Then there was a pull.

It ripped through her where the needle was in her skin, deeper this time, a hollow, dragging pain that made her vision flash white. Her body jolted. A small gasp escaped her—

The shock was weaker this time. A warning as the noise passed her lips, and her mouth opened, every instinct screaming to cry out, to beg, to stop it—

She clamped her lips shut. Nothing came out.

Her breath broke instead, silent and shaking, tears spilling down her face as she stared at Cotton on the floor, clinging to the only thing she had left to hold onto.

Another pull.

Her fingers curled tighter, nails biting into her skin, her whole body locked in place as she forced herself to stay still, to stay quiet, to be—

“Good girl.”

The words blurred together with the pain, distant and warm and wrong.

The needle finally withdrew.

She thought the pain would stop, but the ache stayed, deep and throbbing, like something inside her had been taken and left empty.

Her breaths came in small, silent gasps as they bandaged her hip and she didn’t know what else they did. Tears and black spots swam in her vision. The doctors left Cotton on the floor. They left the collar on her neck. She wanted to hold Cotton. It would make her feel better.

EI427 couldn’t stop shaking. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard Dr Crabtree’s voice as he spoke to a nurse taking notes. “Subject required correction, but compliance was achieved.”

She didn’t dare make another sound.

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Tag List! Let me know if you want to be added or taken away.

oh that's horrific, i love that.

treating it like an experiment... they don't address whumpee directly. they're manipulating whumpee's body, taking notes, writing down results. responses. stimulating whumpee's body. seeing how long it takes them to cry, what sort of arousal they respond with, what size objects they can take in various places.

imagining specifically something with an inflatable toy inside of whumpee. whumper pumping the grip, increasing the size, recording the results, until whumpee is panting and whining every second, squirming and unable to get into any position in which they're not in extreme pain.

if they beg too much, and whumper doesn't need their verbal responses for data, they're swiftly and intensely gagged.

stripped naked, restrained, held open, helpless and vulnerable and exposed, under bright, bright lights. photos taken, videos. recordings of results.

Here's a snippet of my Hunger Games fanfic! This follows the events of Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, except after the shooting in the woods, Coriolanus takes an injured Lucy Gray with him to the Capitol.

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The ground rattled beneath Lucy Gray. A horrible, groaning sound, like a mountain beast awakening from slumber to shake the gravel and boulders from its back, filled the air. It was an unnatural melody Lucy Gray was unfortunate enough to recognize.

Her body ached. Slowly, she pried her eyes open. The last time she had been trapped in this beast’s maw, she was held within a cattle car. Now she lay on a bench. Her head was propped on something, but before she could move to see, a hand settled, warm and heavy, on her shoulder. “Oh, Lucy Gray.”

Another sound she recognized. The last thing she remembered was that voice screaming her name in fury as gunfire and smoke filled the forest; a thunderous, war cry of a tune that tried to drown out nature’s song. Lucy tried to sit up, but pain exploded across her side. A hiss escaped her teeth.

What was goin’ on? Coriolanus had tried to kill her. She knew about the murders. He was wantin to go to officer’s school. Why was she here with him now? “Coryo….” Lucy Gray slurred, her voice strained. Move. Move, Lucy Gray Baird, you gotta…

Something pricked her neck. Cold flew through her veins, turnin her to a girl of ice—ice so cold, not even summer’s heat could melt her. The winter storm washed over her consciousness. 

Seconds to Midnight

Aaron and Felix

Three Wise Monkeys

OH OH OH! I CHOOSE SECONDS TO MIDNIGHT! 🕚 GOD I LOVE THIS ONE ITS BEEN ON THE BACKBURNER SINCE I WAS A TEEN! 😫

So! It's a lab/superhuman/captivity/military-adjacent whump story I have in the pipeline!

'Seconds to midnight' is a reference to the Doomsday Clock that estimates the likelihood of a human-made global catastrophe!

Here's a little premise:

​Legally reclassified from human to "non-sentient biological resources," five whumpees are held captive in a top-secret government testing facility. Their superhuman abilities are no longer remarked as 'gifts', but they are now the blueprints for the future of biological warfare. From agonising tissue harvests to lethal stress tests, they are being dismantled, piece by piece, to turn human potential into military ammunition.

​I don't have much at all written for this, other than roadmaps and mad scribbles, but what I do have is the rough start of a little prologue chapter! This is the director of the facility (whumper) pitching his experimental project to the minister of defense for their authorisation, compliance and funding 🙈 🧎‍♀️

“Imagine, gentlemen, the end of traditional warfare. No more diplomatic stalemates. Imagine a soldier who can teleport directly into the heart of an enemy’s barracks. He wipes out an entire command tier and disappears without a trace in mere seconds, before the first body even hits the floor.”

One of the Generals shifted, his chair creaking. Halloway didn't blink. He paced around the table, circling them like prey.

“Imagine a soldier who can stop a hail of 7.62 rounds in mid-air with nothing but a thought, letting the lead fall like rain at his feet.” Halloway paused, leaning down until his face was inches from the Minister’s. “And imagine a soldier who, with one single touch, could drive an insurgent leader to such sudden, crippling insanity that the man is forced to put a bullet in his own skull just to make the screaming stop.

A man that could see with his very own eyes, every next move - we’d always be two steps ahead of our enemy.”

Halloway straightened his cuffs, a faint but cruel glimmer in his eyes. “I don’t know about you, sir. But those sound like the men I want fighting for our country. Men who could end a war before it’s even begun.”

The Minister of Defense stared at Halloway, his face pale. He looked at the other officials, seeking a voice of reason, but found only hungry curiosity.

“What you’re talking about, it’s… it’s a fantasy,” the Minister stammered. “It’s superheroes? You're asking for a budget based on comic books?”

Halloway’s lip curled into a sneer that didn't reach his eyes. “No, no, no. It’s mutation, Minister. You don’t need superheroes to make super soldiers. We just need the genetics. At the insitute, we don’t 'train' men. We weaponise DNA.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” the General scoffed. “The ethics alone-”

Halloway reached into his breast pocket and produced a remote. With a click, the screens behind him flickered to life, displaying grainy, terrifying footage of a young man in a padded cell, his skin mapped with glowing veins, screaming as the air around him distorted.

Halloway smirked.

“Gentlemen, placed in front of each of you is a dossier on Project ND-12." He gestured to the black-bound folders on the table.

The freaks who follow me understand my vision

The freaks who follow me understand my vision

Friction burns on the cheek and side of the mouth that was rubbed on the floor during the assault. The idea of whumper just pushing whumpee's head down so violently that even their gums and teeth hurt...

+ in this fic I read some time ago whumpee spent more than a minute plucking the fibers of the carpet from between his teeth after they were left alone, and I can't stop thinking about it. They bared their teeth, trying to bite and scream but all they got was their face smushed on the floor...

this is such a visceral description... picking carpet fiber from their teeth, hough. the friction burns, the pain after. if it were rough enough, the way that they would have a visible mark on their face after, the shame of essentially having rug burn on their face that would be so hard to miss.

And Living Weapon snaps, killing all of them within a few heartbeats. The van stops as the driver runs into the back and is killed as well.

- Wrenching Them Up By The Hair™. The Classic. beloved.

- Pain so sudden it startles them into looking

- Do they have a collar of some kind? perhaps with a loop? Something to hook your finger into to pull? Or just a leash, I'm not picky.

- Tip of a blade under a chin. Or muzzle of a gun. any weapon. incredibly goofy with a morningstar.

- speaking of muzzle- have you considered: hooking a finger into whumpee's gag and/or muzzle and pulling? because i have. i have.

- Simply grabbing whumpee's chin. Bruisingly Tight.