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@thatwhumpblogoverthere
I havenât posted on here in a while. It isnât a dead blog, I just have been processing a lot. My brother took his own life three months ago. He and I were very close. I considered him to be my best friend. I thought weâd have so much more time together. He was only 21. He would have been 22 last month. Iâve been struggling, to say the least. But yeah. This blog isnât dead. Iâm just being Whumped in real life lol.
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The dazed, distant look of an exhausted, drugged Whumpee. As they sway on their feet, their body almost limp. Almost heavy with sleep. They are fighting with everything in them not to fall. Not to fully black out. But itâs getting to be impossible.
Whumper tsks and it sounds both distant, like itâs coming from miles away and very near-like a whisper in Wumpeeâs ear. It makes their stomach spin for a moment and they almost heave. But holds steady enough. Their legs wobble. âNow, I donât believe I said you could stop working, now did it? That wonât due, dear Whumpee. Not one bit.â They hiss.
But Whumpee can hear the pleasure in it. The lust for pain, bubbling beneath their stern tone. And it makes them livid. It makes them want to pull back and slam their fist into Whumperâs face. But their hands are simply limp at their sides. Losing grip of the scrub brush they had been holding.
They stumble back, their body swaying dangerously left, then right, then left again. This time, they tip over and hit the floor hard. Their body failing them, failing to catch them and to mitigate the impact on their shoulder, on their temple. The dizziness intensifies and they shut their eyes. And Whumper just watches. A grin on their face. Ready to bring down the punishment, for poor, useless Whumpee. Who was still trying to open their eyes and lift their head.
My favorite kind of whump trope is by far the test subject that has never been allowed in the real world, but I like the idea that they just think everything happening to them is completely normal. Like, yeah. Everyone wakes up and has their blood drawn to the point of exhaustion and or passing out. Then they are stabbed repeatedly with all sorts of injections and watched closely for any signs of any change. Then agonizing pain for several hours, of course.
Everyone wakes up after they pass out again to a very angry Whumper in a white coat, threatening them for something they have very little control over. Or none at all. Of course. Everyone gets a beating that lasts at least two hours before they are left alone, on the cold floor, their body slowly beginning to mend itself. They have no idea how unnatural this all is. How unnatural they are. How strange it is that their body heals at such a rapid rate.
They just wait until their meal. Which may come. Or may not. They wonât starve, their body will simply carry on. The pain wonât stop. The hunger simply fades into the background. And maybe one dayâŚ.something might change. An agreement made and they change hands. Maybe to someone worse. Or someone who takes pity on this poor soul. They just donât know. This is normal, so, they simply wait. For the blood to be drawn and the injections and the eyes on them. Always watching. Always judging.
Reblog if you will never. Ever. Use AI in your writing.
Make your whumpee dizzy!! Sooooo dizzy. The room is spinning around and around and their stomach is roiling and their skin is balmy and their mouth is watering and they feel so horribly dreadful!! They are sweating and cold all at once!! And their legs are wobbly and weak!!!
Make. Your. Whumpee. Dizzy.
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Whumpee that has been marked using a hot iron and now HATES the smell of cooking meat. They literally get sick from it. Or completely shutdown and sit still, expecting more excruciating pain from Whumper pressing the seething metal to their sensitive flesh.
Reblog if you love âââ and have never used ChatGPT
Fuck ai, I just use the dash cause I wanna!!!
The hallways is long and narrow. The space around whumpee spins, their vision is fuzzy and distorted. Nothing makes sense. Not yet. They stand slowly, legs like a baby deer. And try to understand where they are. Why they arenât in their home. Why everything feels cold and sterile. Unwelcoming.
They walk forward, bare feet against icy tiles. Before them is a long hallway, doors in both sides, each closed and to their dismay-locked. There is no easy answer. No way out. The only way is forward. So, they stumble forward.
Not realizing that someone is watching them. Not knowing that they are close. That Whumper is a breath away from making their move. Whumpee is close to tears before it happens. The hallway seeming to go on forever, a maze of perfect white.
Their stomachs churns and they grab the edge of a wall, the space spinning faster around them. A large hand suddenly clamps down onto their mouth, an arm wrapping firmly around their torso, yanking them back so fast they donât have time to scream. To beg, to plead, to finally cry. They panic and flail, their weak body fighting for an escape.
The needle presses into their neck with brutal precision. Someone practiced is doing this. The pain is a shock, but the warmth that follows is almost soothing. Whumpeeâs limbs begin to feel heavy. And their heart rate begins to slow. And soon? Soon they are leaning all of their weight onto the person injecting them.
They try one last time to scream, to fight. And the only sound that comes out is a weak, meager whimper. Whumper watches. Whumper pulls them in close, allowing them to go completely limp. And they grin through their surgical mask. So it begins.
Whumpee, on all fours, frantically crawling backwards, eyes wide-tears streaming down their cheeks. They are covered in dirt. In hundreds of tiny cuts and bruises. And the fear on their face and in their body is palpable. You can damn-near taste it in the air. Whumper is like a shark, drawn in via blood in the water. The sobs start. And they rack the little whumpeeâs frame. It doesnât stop the pain. It just sweetens it. Curates it. And Whumper is starved for their pain. They pull back, weapon in hand and slam down onto whumpeeâs knees.
no but whumper smashing whumpee knee with a hammer, crowbar, or anything else, to the point that all the bones break, the ligaments tear and everything. and it has so many consequences because:
whumpee won't be able to put any weight on their leg, so they can't run away even if they try (they could crawl, but with the pain it would be very hard) and they would have to be rescued
the pain is inmensurable, like, to the point that whumpee may pass out or get very close to it (not seeing anything, feeling like there's cotton in their ears)
it will get a reaction even from the most stoic of whumpees
the recovery is very long, in "real world" universes it will involve surgery, whumpee would go through months of physical therapy and the knee will never be the same again
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I need whump and I need it to be recorded. I need whumpee to know people are watching, or will end up watching what is happening to them. I need whumper to be able to look back on inflicting that torture and delight in it all over again. I need whumper to make whumpee watch their own torture.
Whumper walked into the cell, looking over the two new captives. They were both gagged and tied back-to-back. One of them blinked in pure terror, while the other growled with fury.
"What do I choose?" Whumper stepped closer and crouched down. "Something new and exciting?" They lifted Caretaker's chin, "Or something old and familiar?" Then patted Whumpee's head.
Caretaker struggled against the merciless ropes tying them down.
"Have something to say?" Whumper obliged and pulled out the gag from Caretaker's mouth.
After working their jaw, Caretaker snarled:
"Leave them alone!"
Whumper grinned.
"Bold words. Makes sense for someone who's never known real pain: no serious injuries, no chronic illnesses. Do you even know what it's like to have a broken bone?"
Caretaker continued to glare.
"Now Whumpee, that's a different story. They've been suffering since their days in a cradle. Everything I do to them is nothing more than a game, considering their freakish pain tolerance. So, I don't know, maybe sit this one out."
Whumper started moving their hand towards Whumpee and barely managed to snatch it back in time to avoid Caretakerâs bite.
"I said: Leave. Them. Alone."
"Yeesh! Alright, you've convinced me. Better teach you some manners first."
Being forced to apologise when you haven't done anything stings so fucking much. It's unfair, it's irritating and it's saddening.
Whumper smacks whumper across the face and they end up slamming into a table, knocking something down. And they have to say sorry for it.
Picking up a captive who is so beaten they can't stand.
Forcing them up again to beat them again.
Big fan of Whumpers who donât raise their voice no matter how mad they are. Even mid beating, itâs all hushed âIâm going to fucking kill you,â or âyouâre going to pay.â
Especially when they show little to no emotions and will shove Whumpee into the wall and choke them at the drop of a hat with literally no warning signs.
Whumpee could be screaming or crying or begging for their life and all whumper does is stare back blankly or smirk.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
dehumanization tropes i love
-not allowed on furniture. remain standing or kneel on the floor, no sitting
-not allowed to make eye contactÂ
-being silenced immediately every time they try to speakÂ
-casual manhandling, being dragged alone because theyâre not trusted to move by themselvesÂ
-casual, nonconsensual touch. randomly pulling them closer, absently playing with hair, manually adjusting their posture
-giving orders without explanationÂ
-giving orders they know are arbitrary, just to exercise power
-talking about them like they arenât even in the roomÂ
-authorizing other people to monitor and control them
-being kept in restraints 24/7, with movement restricted even further in their downtimeÂ
-degrading their natural behaviors and reflexes. stare is creepy, smile is ugly, flinching is disrespectful, etcâŚ
-putting down their hobbies/interests
-ascribing ill intent to all their actions and assuming the worst from them
Who up, whumpin their trauma???
(I am brutally beating your fav with a hammer :>)
