#devoted whumpee

cw: religion/ cults. implied violence and brainwashing

Whumpee knew they were the most devout believer who had ever walked the Earth- how could they not be? Whumpee was chosen specially. Being a conduit of the powers was a privilege, the greatest calling a human being could possibly have.

Everything had been leading up to today. Whumpee had been waiting for this their whole life. All the training, the suffering, the blood and the tears, it would all be worth it, when Whumpee got to see the Temple.

Whumpee was deep in meditation on the Rites they would be receiving today.  “Whumpee.” Whumper’s voice made Whumpee jump. Whumper was already in long, black robes.

Whumpee's chest erupted with emotions and anticipation, but they managed to nod evenly at Whumper.  Whumpee tried to focus on being present, on being a good conduit, as they began to prepare for the sacred rite of entering the Temple.

The Helpers dressed Whumpee in the ceremonial garb, careful not to touch them. Whumper stood silently, observing Whumpee as they got changed. Whumpee was careful to be good, moving evenly and smoothly.

Whumper led the way outside into the Citadel, where the Temple towered above them. It didn’t feel real to Whumpee, as finally, finally, they got to climb the giant marble steps.

Whumpee’s steps faltered as they entered the building- it was enormous, gold-painted and shimmering in ways Whumpee hadn’t known were possible. Whumpee barely managed not to stop and stare, only muscle memory keeping them moving. Whumpee was beginning the Holiest of Rites... now was not the time to stumble.

Holy People lined the walkway, all watching Whumpee serenely. The Speaker was beginning the sermon- beginning the ceremony. Whumper led Whumpee to the center of the room, then stopped.

Whumper turned back to Whumpee, and held out their hands. Whumpee poured the oil into their cupped palms. Whumpee lowered their head respectfully.

Whumper’s oil-coated hands came to rest on Whumpee’s head- it was all Whumpee could do to not gasp.

Whumpee had never been touched before, not that they could remember- it was too much, and Whumpee couldn’t help the tears that sprang to their eyes. They felt like they were flying. They was absolutely dizzy with the sensation of it, the Holiness, the strength of it overwhelming their nerves- 

Whumper’s hands retracted, and Whumpee swallowed back the whimper. Whumpee knew that was just a taste of the Holiness they would experience, once Whumpee completed their Rites.

Whumpee knelt on the ground. In Whumpee’s periphery, they saw the Anointer preparing, but they kept their gaze obediently on Whumper. 

Whumper was looking back at Whumpee. For the first time that Whumpee could remember, Whumper’s gaze was not entirely blank. Whumper looked…fond? proud?

The Anointer raised their arms to the sky. Beneath the drone of the Speaker’s voice, Whumpee heard Whumper chuckle.

“What a good little lamb,” Whumper murmured, and Whumpee’s chest filled with pride.

Whumpee finally escapes. Or were they let go? They honestly aren't sure which. All they know is that they finally got everything they wanted, they're free. But something is wrong. It turns out whumper might have been right. The world is just a bit too big for them. It's scary, dangerous... overwhelming. Whumper was right when they warned them outside was actually less safe. Less comfortable. Less kind. Suddenly whumpee isn't sure they want to be free. Maybe whumper is keeping them safe after-all. Before they know it they find themselves back where they'd just escaped, on their knees in front of whumper. Words pour out of their mouth, begging and sharing and emotional dumping, and just pleading, pleading whumper to take them back in, where it's calm and quiet and there's simple rules, with simple results. They'll do anything. They're so so so sorry they left. They're sorry they didn't listen It had just gotten too much, it hurt too much, and they just wanted to stop hurting. They didn't mean to leave, they didn't mean to put themself in danger. They just couldn't handle all the feelings anymore. Please all they're asking for is a little more kindness and they'll stay forever. They'll do anything, anything, whumper wants.

Whumper watches them, cold, expressionless, for almost half an hour. They listen to whumpee plead and sob and cry until their throat is sore and their mouth is dry. And then slowly, they nod. "Welcome home whumpee dear. Of course we can be more gentle, if you finally understand your place. I only ever was correcting you to keep you safe like I told you. If you're finally willing to learn better, it's wonderful to have you home."

cw: mild body horror, religion/cults

Whumper cradled Whumpee’s head gently in their hands. “Are you ready?” they asked, voice nearly a whisper, careful not to let the heavens overhear the moment of consideration.

Whumpee nuzzled into Whumper’s hands. “Yes, Lord,” he murmured.

Whumper tutted, withdrawing their hands. “Is that how a pious Body would respond?”

Whumpee clamped their mouth shut. They shook their head no.

“You understand... being part of the Greater Body now, you will be giving up certain earthly temptations, and committing to higher privileges.”

Whumpee closed his eyes as Whumper talked, letting the gospel wash over him. He bit back the urge to respond with the previously-encouraged Yes Lord. He was ascending now, he no longer needed something as worldly as speech.

“Let’s try again. Whumpee, are you ready? Do you commit yourself to your place in the Greater Body?”

Whumpee nodded enthusiastically.

“Very good.” Whumper’s hand returned to Whumpee’s face, holding onto his chin firmly.

Whumpee felt the needle pierce through his bottom lip. His body reacted without his permission, jumping at the pain and going to turn away from Whumper-

Whumpee caught himself. Somehow, through the haze of sharp pain, he wrangled his trembling body back under his control. He forced himself to lean towards Whumpee, instead of away.

Whumper’s soft, steady hands didn’t alter in their path. Their thumb caressed softly over Whumpee’s cheekbone, and an instant later, the other hand drove the needle through Whumpee’s upper lip.

Whumper pulled the needle upwards, pulling the thread tout between Whumpee’s upper and lower lip. That hurt more than either of the initial stitches, the thread pulling through the wounds and tearing roughly at the flesh as it was tightened.

Tears needled at Whumpee’s eyes. He choked back as much noise as he could, but each inhale and exhale betrayed a not-quite inaudible whimper.

The pain was purifying in its sharp intensity.