So uh, whump originally was a bit of a (bad, in my case) coping mechanism for me, and I started posting because I had all that stuff and I might as well do something with it. But, as it turns out, itâs kind of counterproductive... same goes for reading it, no matter how much I still kind of like it.
So, Iâm on hiatus for this blog, kind of indefinitely. I need to focus on happier things for a while, and right now whump is not a part of that.
I think I'm going to use mostly Marcus/Whumper POV for now. Anything else just send me an ask if you're interested, but I've got more ideas from his POV
I'm back! on a trial basis, and a little less actively, as I promised myself.
Little heads up, I'm doing things differently. So, expect a few time skips and very self-indulgent drabbles because as it turns out structure and rules was what kept me away from this story on the writing part. (As for me & whump, I've allowed myself 1 chapter a week to write, since I have other non-whump WIPs as well)
I put in a time skip because I had ideas, so... (happy an open to prompts/asks or whatever though, as far back and ahead in time as you like)
Consider it a bit of a restart. (For those of you interested, I'll have some pieces about the actual procedures in the previous chapters as well, later on. I'm picking whump back up slow, though. Last time I kind of burned myself out.)
3 years after the start of Project Rebirth
TWs: general pet whump stuff, collars, institutionalized dehumanization
Marcus sat on his sofa on the back porch of his mansion. Project Rebirth had become a huge success. Government-funded, his program trained most pets these days. They opened their fifth foreign facility just last week. He had access to all the footage and records worldwide.
The European station had an interesting batch waiting. It wasnât a large facility. Older practices still had the upper hand there. It had been in use for about two years now, so the first long-term procedures had been starting to bear fruit. Two younger pets, just a year above placement age. Real troublemakers as Orian had been, though now they played like toddlers in a pen.
They would be placed with some French trust-fund kid. Hallie and AnaĂŻs were the petsâ names. An English one as tribute to him, though Marcus had Scandinavian roots somewhere deep in the family more than he had English ones. The two girls were to be raised as twins. A challenge to the head of the facility, since the two couldnât stand to look at each other when they were brought in. They had never even met and already detested one another.
Marcus moved to his own footage. His facility wasnât far away. His residence was the only inhabited place for days on foot. Just in case a pet did try to make a run for it. It was easier to keep quiet that way, and to ensure recapture. Though, he had yet to see his first escape.
Orian had been doing great. They were an âexcitable little pupâ as one of his prospective clients once told him. Always playing and giggling. He let them, be noisy outside. Chained to a pet-pole in the middle of yard, wearing a soft harness to keep it that way, they played with one of his pet rabbits. Though Orian was raised to call them their friends.
Orian wore green and yellow on their collar these days. Normal, given their age. Youthful misunderstandings and fears were part of the process, but given where they had come from, an achievement he had been awarded prizes for.
The collar was a bit of an issue. Orian had no problem wearing it, but if Marcus used it in any way other than as a mark of property, it ended in childlike wailing. Normal leashes didnât work. It was a rare problem, but a hard one to train a pet out of. He had tried to make them adjust, but about a year into the post-birth stages of the program he realized that sometimes regulations are too constricting. He had the power and reputation to change them now anyways.
In the yard, Orian wore the harness attached to that pole. They had a long chain, long enough to go everywhere in the open area of his gardens. Always within sight from the porch. They were a curious pet, always touching and feeling. At first Marcus had thought the lenses hadnât disintegrated like they were designed to do by year two, but after they checked it turned out Orian was just like that.
It was an aspect he wanted to achieve, but didnât expect to succeed in so soon.
Toby sat in the outside pet-bed, fiddling with a toy heâd gotten from one of his investors. He scratched under his double-blue collar as he watched Orian play.
He had taught Toby his true place, once he understood the problem. He had been wrong about conscious obedience in him. In his latest piece for the Handfulls magazine, which was a weekly report on the newest developments in pet-training, he had written it all out.
There were two kinds of conscious obedience. The most common and well-known one, come from a place of fear and a desire to avoid punishment, and Tobyâs. A desire for pride. Toby didnât obey because he was supposed to, he obeyed because it got him praised.
A tricky problem to solve. Positve reinforcement made obeying worth it, even if the orders given were less than desirable. Toby had been too aware that he had a place in a hierarchy. Some part of him still placed himself in a line with real people. Part of the culprit had been his function as a research assistant.
Marcus simply stripped him of the title. He still carried out procedures and intakes, and he served as an example for the Reborns, but he was to refer to himself as just pet. No title or function. He had chores, not tasks. At home he made sure to keep comparisons to a minimum, as Orianâs quick progress was what had most likely caused his outbursts of jealousy.
These days, Toby saw Orian as his little sibling as much as Orian saw Toby as their big brother. The only comparison he allowed was that of age. That way, it was easier to explain why Marcus was more lenient with his repercussions on Orian.
Orian, his little Orian. Toby watched them with a gentle affection in his eyes.
Orian didnât age the same he did, that was the real cherry on top of the cake. An old friend had helped Marcus develop the procedures. Orianâs physical development had been halted. Their birth-age had been mid-twenties when they came in, and they would continue to look like that until their Rebirth age matched.
The downside was that it caused some severe physical weakness. That apparently, was the only reason the stuff never reached the market for humans. Orian could not walk. Three years old, and they had yet to make a single step. They could crawl, and stand if they held on to something, but they could not hold their own weight otherwise.
In the training facilities they had harnesses attached to rails on the ceiling to transport subjects who were to eager to wander off or too weak to stand without help, but Marcus wanted his home to look normal. His pets were there for him, not the other way around.
The weakness should subside over the cours of a few years. Orian would develop as normal after that. Helplessness helped overcome the malfunction in their implant anyway. By now, Marcus could be sure that the malfunction didnât bring any specific thoughts to Orianâs mind. Just a feeling of danger. He could work with that. Orian had no idea their sudden adrenaline spikes and tantrums came from their past. As far Orian was concerned, they had no past. They were born three years ago.
âSir?â Toby asked quietly. âCan I go on the grass?â
âYou can go pick up Orian,â Marcus answered. âItâs close to bedtime, you both have an in person evaluation tomorrow.â
Toby was a riskier pet to have wander around outside. Toby hadnât been through the program, and therefore had access to his memories from before he was âfoundâ as a pet. He had spent his days in a park not unlike Marcusâs gardens. Marcus didnât want to spark any old memories. Toby got emotional, he would be prone to it. Toby never left the porch unrestrained. He wore thick shoes if he did have to go on the grass, kept by the stairs. Under no circumstances was he allowed to touch it.
Marcus clipped a long leash to Tobyâs collar as he put on his shoes. Toby never questioned it. Not once.
His sweet little Orian, and his perfect Toby. Marcus couldnât think of a better life.
the lovers: do you have a crush?, temperance: can you describe a strange dream youâve had?, the devil: do you enjoy thunderstorms?, the moon: have you ever written a love letter?
Hi!!
Nope, no crush, but I don't mind. As for a strange dream, I had a lucid dream a few weeks back that actually a bit whumpy but like, not in a nightmare way? I got kidnapped, but hey, lucid dream, so I just kinda ran with it and messed with fake people. It was fun.
I love thunderstorms! (As long as I don't have to bike through them...) The sounds are a bit of a... thing sometimes, but the lightning makes up for it.
I've never written a love letter for a real person, but I have as part of a creative writing exercise. (I was ten, so that would probably hurt to read back, but I guess it counts?)
the fool: do you have any nicknames?
the magician: have you ever written a poem or song about somebody else?
the high priestess: what is your dream date?
the empress: do you think you will ever get married?
the emperor: what are some names that you like?
the hierophant: do you believe in ghosts?
the lovers: do you have a crush?
the chariot: thoughts on astrology?
strength: what is your dream occupation?Â
the hermit: what is your favorite soda pop?
wheel of fortune: first three songs that come on shuffle?
justice: favorite color of rose?
the hanged man: favorite movie soundtrack?
death: what are three things you want to do before you die?
temperance: can you describe a strange dream youâve had?
the devil: do you enjoy thunderstorms?
the tower: favorite colors to wear?
the star: have you ever seen a psychic?
the moon: have you ever written a love letter?
the sun: do you believe in magic?
judgement: do you enjoy school?
the world: do you like waking up early?
PSA: Just a friendly reminder that whenever you start a creative project, you will invariably hit a phase where the Thingâąïž appears horrendous and you start asking existential questions. But if you keep working, it invariably passes and starts to resemble something less like the devilâs vomit. Doesnât matter if itâs art, writing, or whatâthis happens repeatedly. Carry on.
This person: *takes photo of moon surrounded by clouds* Ah yes, I know exactly which mid-19th century painting of a biblical winged nude beefcake this reminds me of
Also, Iâm alive! Iâm working on a really big personal project next to this (103K so far) so that kind of goes first. Anyway, here goes. Iâll add the links later, because Itâs 1AM where Iâm at...
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TWs: mild drugging (barely mentioned) / restraints (so much, at the end) / pet whump / dehumanization / lab whump (barely) / stress position (I think?) / threat of torture / mild and implied non con touch / muzzle
Toby meets relatively newborn Orian, but heâs not so happy about no longer being the number one pet around...
Two months post Rebirth.
Toby stood in his corner in the storage room. Marcus told him to watch the new arrivals, so he did. Though, there wasnât much to watch. The youngest twoâbarely old enough for placement, though they both had ownersâboth tried to sleep, like Toby suggested to them before one of Marcusâs human assistants put his muzzle on. The others were muzzled and blindfolded, or on a breathing machine.
He didnât have other orders, though, so he had no reason to leave. Or permission. Though that came soon enough.
âToby.â Marcus opened the door into the lab, but stayed behind the screen that kept the subjects from seeing him. âYouâre with Orian today.â
Unable to speak, Toby raised an eyebrow.
âDonât question me, Toby, you heard what I said. Itâs early, I know, but I think itâs time they get acquainted with the rules and habits of being a pet.â He signaled for Toby to follow, and continued to speak as they walked through the halls toward the secondary building, where the Reborn pets would all be raised.
âOf course if I teach all of it, itâs not going to stick. The implant malfunctioned during the container stage, and it hasnât entirely supressed their need to fight every single good intention we have. Coming from another pet, it would be trusted.â He shrugged. âYou two will have to get to know each other anyway. If all goes well youâll have some permanent company in a year or two.â
Permanent? Marcus was getting another pet, and it would be Orian? Red-collared, trashing about at every second, Orian?
âI would ask you what you are, and remind you of the consequences of questioning my decisions, but I suppose the consequences of your previous⊠slip up would make that conversation a bit one sided.â
He tapped the muzzle. âI should have known those other pets could be a bad influence on you. Youâre due for an evaluation. Any of the people visiting this place could be the ones to decide what color youâll be wearing for the next six months, so best behavior.â
Toby sighed, and nodded. Double blue. He wouldnât mess up again. He wanted double blue. Thatâs the highest praise a pet could get. It meant he was exactly as a pet was supposed to be.
âAnyway,â Marcus continued. âIâve arranged for Orian to see you as their older brother.â
Toby frowned. They werenât related.
âYouâll be living on the same estate when Orian reaches double yellow, and theyâre ready to believe just about anything that we tell them at this moment. The malfunction canât be fixed, so Orian will need a point of reference to remind them of their place.â Marcus took the muzzle off before they left the main building to head to Orian. He shushed Toby before he could talk. âNot a word until weâre there. Youâre to listen, and listen closely. If you donât follow my instructions to the letter, this program will fail, therefore so will you.â
Toby listened as carefully as he could as Marcus explained what he had to say and do. How he had to react to which behavior, how to be a good pet without breaking the illusion of infancy to Orian.
Marcus parked Toby just outside the red-lined nursery ward. âWe wonât be making exceptions, Iâll get you a harness. Itâs a subjectâs one, so itâs a little more⊠constricting. You wonât need it in Orianâs room.â He left Toby alone in the hall.
There were only two pets yet. Orian, and one of the new ones. Tyler. Heâd only been in the container for two months, but he was another project of Marcusâs. Toby had been allowed to read his file. The only addition made to the evaluation in the past months, was that the politician that wished for Tyler to be put in their care as a pet, had reconsidered after reporters asked them questions about Tylerâs past.
Now that Tylerâs face and old name were well known, no one wanted him. Marcus wanted to test out the shortened version of the Project. Toby wasnât sure why Marcus would see it as a challenge. Tyler had spent his entire life among humans, he would be happy to be saved and raised the way he should have been. Toby shouldnât question, though.
âArms forward.â Marcus came back and pulled a harness attached to the rail along with him. He fastened it around Tobyâs torso, and pushed him forward. âOrianâs on the fifth floor, all the way in the back, and weâre late already. Theyâve already had one bottle late today, and we canât make it two.â
Toby tried to breath through the pressure against his chest, all the while keeping up with Marcus. His feet could only barely lift the ground after Marcus tightened the chain that kept him locked in the rail, only one route for him to take. Marcus kept pushing him, though. Marcus was a good owner. He took care of Toby when he couldnât do it himself.
Marcus clipped it off again at Orianâs door. âDo you remember my instructions?â
âYes sir.â
Marcus opened the door and led him inside. Toby took in the soft green room. Orian lied asleep in their overall on a bed right next to the door. His eyes were drawn to the pet bed under the window, though. Also light green, but big for Orian. Though, everything was big for Orian. They were the same ageânot considering the Rebirthâyet Orian barely reached Tobyâs shoulders.
âToby. Corner. Orian needs to eat first.â Marcus sat down on the stool next to the bed, and ruffled through Orianâs hair the same way he occasionally did Tobyâs. âOrian, wake up.â He took the bottle from the table beside the bed, and shook it until the slushing sound woke Orian up. Unable to produce any words at all, they simply reached out for the bottle as soon as Marcus held it close enough for them to see.
Which they could do now, see. Barely anything, and only up close. They couldnât really process anything they saw either, but for nowâMarcus had told Tobyâthat didnât matter yet.
Marcus didnât allow them to drink by themselves, though. He held the bottle. He put the food in Tobyâs hands at night. Marcus, because he was a good owner. His pets wouldnât have to worry about doing anything other than being a good pet. Marcus took care of good pets. Orian wasnât a good pet, though. Not yet.
âOrian, drink all of it now. You want to learn, donât you? You canât be hungry.â Marcus kept holding the bottle until Orian finished every single drop. He put the bottle away. âToby step forward.â
Toby obeyed.
âToday is when youâll start to learn to be a proper pet, Orian. Toby will teach you. Heâs a pet, like you. He knows all the rules, heâll teach you how to follow them.â Marcus nodded at Toby to come even closer. âTo the letter,â he repeated before closing the door behind him.
Toby sighed, but corrected himself. Marcus knew best. He stepped forward and stood in front of the stool. He couldnât sit on it though. Marcus had been very clear. The entire nursery ward had pet furniture, and human furniture. To teach new Reborn pets the difference, they were marked with stickers. Purple for pets, gray for humans.
Toby looked back at the pet bed, then folded down the barriers that kept Orian from falling out the bed if they trashed around too much. âHi Orian, Iâm Toby.â Orian shifted their head, but didnât answer. They couldnât yet, but they could understand. The bits Marcus allowed them to at least.
Orian was as light as they were small. Toby didnât have to put in much of an effort to scoop them up. He let Orian put their head just under his shoulder, nuzzled against his chest. They didnât object to being lifted up, but that had to do with the smoothie. Toby was new to Orian right now, so Marcus couldnât risk having to step in. The small amount of drugs would wear off in less than a minute though.
He carried them to the pet bed under the window, shushing them like Marcus told him to, even if they didnât cry. Behind him, two people wheeled out the bed and replaced it with the training module for restraintsâwhich only Marcus was allowed to use on Orianâand the closet, which contained a few outfits suitable for use outside the nursery ward.
Toby kept his attention on Orian. âItâs okay,â he told them when they started to groan and flinch a little. He laid them down on the pet bed, careful not to do it too roughly. âThis is a pet bed. Itâs for pets only, and an owner canât punish you while youâre in it.â He shrugged. âMost ones, at least. Youâre not allowed to be in there without a humanâs permission. Same goes for leaving. Mâ the Parent gave you permission, so youâre good now.â
He crouched down and took the end of the leash that hung attached to the wall. He fastened it to Orianâs collar. âOnly half green with at least an orange for a second color can go without any restraints at night, and only if their owner says so.â He shook his head every so lightly, out of Orianâs view. They werenât as good a pet as him. Theyâd never get there.
The radiator began to rattle. Fake, of course. Orian yelped at the loud sound right by their ears and began to cry, no longer remembering any other way to process anything at all. âPets donât cry, Orian. Be a good pet.â To no oneâs surprise, that didnât help, but Marcus told Toby what to do if it didnât.
Toby sat down by Orian, and stroked their head. âItâs just a sound, thereâs nothing to be afraid of. Be a good pet. Youâve already been good enough to start training soon.â Marcus sped up that part of the program, so he could be sure Orian had a double yellow at the first evaluation. It would take longer for them to get anything better than that, if they ever did, but Orian would be his. Toby wasnât sure he was supposed to know, but Marcus talked a lot when he put Toby to bed.
Orian settled down when the noise stopped, and reached their hands out to Tobyâs arm. Orian grabbed it tight, refusing to let him leave. âOrian,â Toby corrected them. âYou donât have permission to do that. Let go.â
Orian didnât.
âOrian, be a good pet. Let go.â
To Tobyâs surprise, they did. They took their hands back and curled up into the soft cushion of the pet bed. How? It took him four months to learn he needed permission fro everything. Years, to get where he was now, where he even understood why. Orian did it in just two months, and they did it better than he did when he was training. Toby frowned. Orian didnât have to work to be a good pet, not in the way he had.
With him, it took pain. Lots of it. He wasnât nearly as bad as Orian had been. It wasnât fair. He whispered it. He shouldnât have. He shouldnât even have thought it.
âToby. Get to the hall,â Marcus ordered, standing in the door, fire in his eyes.
Toby turned his gaze to the floor and obeyed.
âI donât have to tell you which rules you broke, donât I?â Marcus asked as he fastened the harness and pulled the chain, forcing Toby to his toes.
Toby shook his head, unable to answer as Marcus forced the bit intoâ and the muzzle over his mouth.
âYouâre deteriorating, Toby. Slipping. Now I donât have the time to put you into the program too, you wouldnât even be a fit. But you need to be trained out of that pride.â Marcus tapped Tobyâs collar. âThatâs my work. Not yours. Youâre a good pet, because of me. I decide if youâre trained well enough for another color. Youâre a pet. Youâre helpless, you donât know how to live in this world with the rules we put in place for you. You canât decide to have thoughts of your own guide your actions.â
He pushed Toby forward, down the stairs, straining Tobyâs neck in the harness. âYouâre lucky I have people to pick up my work. If I didnât it would only take one more of those slip ups before Iâd dump you at evaluation right now, to see what you end up with.â
They stopped at the exit. Marcus took off the harness and clipped on the leash. He tugged, forcing Toby to follow faster than he could. They headed to the school. It was a new building, prepared for the Reborns once they were old enough. Not entirely finished, but Toby knew he was too old to be learning pet-rules from a classroom.
âNow Iâm not a huge fan of pain,â Marcus said. âBut thankfully there are plenty of clients who require their pets to be accepting of it, so we have the necessary facilities.â Marcus opened the door and led him inside. âAs it turns out, pets like you might need a bit of extra work sometimes too.â He put Toby against the wall next to the PE entrance. Though, PE didnât include a whole lot of sports. âStay.â
Marcus went through the door, then came back with a small cage on wheels. He opened the top, as well as one of the sides. Restraints of all kinds hung in there. Would Toby even fit? And why so many? Wait, he shouldnât question. Too late.
âIn.â
Toby sat down on the bottom. Marcus fastened two restraints around his ankles, which he in turn attached to hooks on the cageâs floor. He put his hand on Tobyâs back and forced him to lean over before attaching a chain to his collar, which he locked to a small loop between Tobyâs feet. Two straps went vertically around his shoulders, forcing him to arch back even though the chain to his neck pulled him down. His one arm attached to the side of the cage with a padded restraint, as did the other after Marcus closed the side. The muzzle stayed on, as Marcus moved to the top.
âNow of course I donât have the time to handle this now, but you canât go back near the subjects. How can I trust youâll follow the rules?â Marcus tightened the chain a little, as well as the muzzle. He attached a smaller chain to a small loop at the bottom of his muzzle, under his chin, which in turn attached to a loop in the top of the cage. He tightened it after closing and locking the cage.
Toby sat, forced to look up, with his neck pulled down, and his shoulders pulled back. If he rested his neck, it would fold back because of the chain under his chin. If he wanted to let his chin hang, he had to lean back against the chain to his collar all the time, while his shoulder strained either way. The only solution to all of it at the same time, was to sit perfectly still in the middle of the forces pulling him apart.
The cage began to move, through the dark, into the PE waiting rooms. They were large rooms filled from top to bottom with cages like the one he was in. None of them occupied yet, except for his, but they would be in a while. The cages were meant to prepare pets for transport. The Rebirth Center was over a day away from any inhabited places, even more from the cities most pets went to live in. Some even went international. They just had to be able to keep quiet. A new requirement in some training programs.
Marcus parked the cage onto a small lift, which brought it up. A mechanic arm pushed it into an empty slot, four high. âThe keeper will feed you once a day. Your lessons will begin in a week.â Marcus pushed a button to make the lift come down again, and turned off all the lights. âIf you think my reaction is extreme, I have no problem having you stay over at one of the clientâs facilities. Though, I doubt it will come to that, will it?â
Toby wanted to nod, but the chains made it impossible. He had to nod, he tried to.
âShame. Well, I am a trainer after all, and pets deserve to be properly adjusted for their role. In a week weâll see what I can do for you right here.â
