CW: Beating, captivity, dehumanization
Whumpee wanted to be a person.
People had interesting lives. They had a magnificently woven society. They had inventions nothing else could dream of. They had joys both big and small. But there was something more, too. Something Whumpee couldn’t quite explain. Something about not just having what humans had, but being a person.
And that translated into want, want, want. They observed humans as much as they could, and they wanted, deeply.
Their form responded to desire. When they got a close enough look at one, they felt it changing and morphing, as natural to them as breathing though outside of their conscious control. Whumpee gasped, staring down at the dexterous hands they hadn’t had moments before. They rushed to find a reflective surface.
They looked human! They delighted in what this meant. A new way to be: a person.
They had inner eyelids that blinked the wrong way, and their pupils narrowed to slits in bright sunlight, but they could get sunglasses. They could still pass.
They needed to observe the human whose form they’d copied, to learn how to be one of them. If they could just get closer….
Whumpee ducked away. They weren’t ready! They had to run, or hide, or both. They had to learn personhood, then join others.
“No, hold on. You’re coming with me, imposter.”
They didn’t get the chance to do anything else. Hands grabbed them forcefully and took them away.
They were stuck, tied up with rough rope in a dark place.
This must be indoors. It wasn’t as pleasant as they’d expected.
They couldn’t escape, not using a body they barely knew. They had no view of the sky, so they didn’t know how long they were left there before the person they’d copied came back.
“What, you thought you could steal my face, and then my identity, then take over my life?” They demanded.
“Shut up. I’ve never liked hearing my voice in recordings, and I certainly won’t like hearing crap from you.”
Then Whumpee learned how humans felt pain.
Ropes had been replaced with chains, harder and surer. Whumpee had learned the person’s name, Whumper. Little else had changed.
Whumper still beat them—whenever they were angry with Whumpee, which seemed to be anytime they looked at them, and sometimes when they were angry at something else. They still hated Whumpee, Whumpee wasn’t certain why. For being like them? For being bad at it?
The glamor of humanity had faded. Whumpee no longer wanted to be anything like Whumper. But it didn’t change them. There was nothing else to be. They were all that lived in the dark space.
Sometimes, they heard someone else in the home above them, but never made contact. Whumper silenced Whumpee, through threats or gags or both.
They were more alone in a person’s house than they’d ever been on the outskirts.
One day, they saw the someone else.
There was no hate in their eyes.
When the new person saw Whumpee chained up, their eyes filled with concern. They rushed over. “Whumper? What happened?”
So that was it. They didn’t hate Whumpee because they fell for their form.
Whumpee couldn’t tell the truth. They couldn’t stay here to get hurt again and again. They couldn’t. They had to use this chance. “I need to get out of here,” they said.
“How?” the person asked, pulling at the cuff. “Where’s the key for this?”
Whumpee swallowed. Whumper had it.
“Whumper?” The person asked, looking at Whumpee.
“Over here,” the real Whumper said from the entry, and Whumpee’s heart sank to the floor.
“What…?” The person said, looking between them.
“That is an imposter.” Whumper kicked Whumpee in the chest, and they fell backward. “It’s not even human. Unfortunately I have to keep it here to make sure it doesn’t try to replace me.” They didn’t continue the beating, just gave a nudge with their foot, and Whumpee got the feeling they were holding back for the other’s sake.
“Come on, Caretaker,” Whumper said more gently. They helped the other person—Caretaker—to their feet, touching them with a tenderness Whumpee could hardly dream of.
On their way out, Caretaker looked back at Whumpee. Caretaker’s eyes held confusion, but still not hate. A little spark of hope lit in Whumpee. Maybe humanity wasn’t all so bad after all.
The next day, Whumpee’s form had changed to match Caretaker’s.
Whumpee wondered if this would make things worse. Not that they could control it anyways. The change would probably only anger Whumper more. Whumper found fault in them for everything they did or failed to do, purposeful or not.
When they first saw Whumpee that day, Whumper froze for a moment. “Caretaker…?” Then realization hit, and with it anger. “Why you little—”
“Please, I can’t help it—!”
Whumper strode over and punched them in the perfectly copied jaw. Whumpee cried out wordlessly, protests forgotten.
Of course, it was as Whumpee had feared. This didn’t change anything except for making Whumper angrier.
It was a while before Whumpee saw Caretaker again. But when they did, Caretaker had the key.
They paused, eyes wide, when they saw that Whumpee looked like them now. But it didn't stop them.
“I’m getting you out of here,” Caretaker said quietly. “What Whumper’s doing is wrong.”
Caretaker snuck them out. Whumpee was terrified the whole way. But they also felt hope, they were getting out, they’d be free. And the thrumming of their heart could almost be it singing.
Whumpee saw the rest of the house for the first time. They didn’t absorb much of it; they could hardly concentrate on anything past the fear and hope both threatening to burst their chest. Then they were out, in the open air again. And Caretaker brought them to another human house: Caretaker’s.
Things were very different with Caretaker. They treated Whumpee kindly. They saw to Whumpee’s needs, let them go where they wished, even bonded with them. Like they were an actual person. And Caretaker didn't hate Whumpee even though they were in their form.
It was better in their house, too. It felt like a home. It was warmer and brighter and softer. It was what Whumpee had imagined it would be like to go inside before Whumper had shown them otherwise.
Caretaker talked a lot about recovery. They seemed to think it was important. If all this that they were helping Whumpee with was recovery, maybe it was that important.
Eventually they brought up Whumpee “being their own person.”
“I don’t know how to be my own person. I only know how to copy someone else,” Whumpee answered.
Caretaker exhaled. “Okay. We’ll take it one step at a time.”
Maybe they got too confident. When there was a knock at the door, Whumpee called out “I got it” and answered.
Whumper was standing there.
Whumpee felt like a deer in the headlights. Did they run and hide? Get Caretaker for help? Pretend to be them? Their thoughts whirled too quickly yet their decision came too slowly.
Their eyes were watering. They were out of time. They couldn’t help but blink.
Whumper’s expression iced over, turning to hard anger as Whumpee’s inner eyelids gave them away.
“You.” Whumper reached out, grabbing, ready to hurt….
“Let them go,” Caretaker commanded from the side, having arrived in the room just in time. Whumpee could have cried with relief.
“Another one!? How many of you horrid things are there?”
“That’s the real them!” Whumpee protested.
“Of course you would say that,” Whumper snarled. They pulled out their phone and shined the flashlight in Caretaker’s eyes.
“Whumper, what the hell?” Caretaker exclaimed.
Whumpee knew what they were doing. Checking their pupils.
“Yeah, who else would I be?” Caretaker demanded, crossing their arms.
Whumper glanced at Whumpee. “Another of those creatures. Why do you let it wander around your home?”
“They are my houseguest, and if you can’t treat them civilly I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”
Miraculously, Whumper did start to go. “If you wanna keep that thing in your home, that’s your problem. But our relationship is over.”
“Fine by me.” Caretaker slammed the door shut, and Whumper narrowly avoided getting hit.
