Mr. Hurt rubbed his hands together as he looked down at the pizza he’d just pulled out of his oven. Golden crust, bubbling cheese, and square pepperoni. This would be delicious.
Sure he was feeding it to fluffies, but Mr. Hurt had fun making pizza so he didn’t mind.
Opening the backdoor to his kitchen Mr. Hurt brought the pizza to the fluffy feeding area. There were a lot of ferals in the area so there were always hungry fluffies waiting.
When they saw and smelled the pizza the gathered herd cheered.
“YAY! PIZZA NUMMIES!!!”
All except one.
“Dummeh hoomin! Does am bad skettis! SMAWTY NU WAN!!!”
Mr. Hurt and the rest of the fluffies turned to look at the whiner.
A morbidly-obese puke green and piss yellow unicorn was throwing a tantrum.
Mr. Hurt pushed his glasses back up his nose.
“This isn’t spaghetti. This is pizza.”
“Pizza am gud nummies,” chimed in another fluffy.
“NU!!!” Screamed the Smarty, “SKETTIS AM BESTEST NUMMIES, AWW ODEH NUMMIES AM POOPIES! Nu wan dummeh pizza nummies, Smawty onwy wan sketties!”
Mr. Hurt was beginning to get annoyed.
“I’m not going to make spaghetti for you, I prefer making pizzas. If you refuse to eat pizza then don’t come here. Now don’t ask again, you’re not getting spaghetti and that’s final.”
The Smarty stuck his tongue out and made a farting sound.
“Dummeh hoomin! Yu need du wut Smawty sai cuz am bestest Smawty! Nao take Smawty’s powite cwiticism and gibe skettis ow Smawty wiww WEAWWY get off-end-ed!”
Mr. Hurt put the pizza down for the herd to eat and turned to go back inside. The Smarty would have to complain to the closed door if he wanted to keep-
“TAKE SOWWY-POOPIES!”
Mr. Hurt spun around. The Smarty had just sprayed shit all over the pizza. The other fluffies started crying over the loss of the delicious meal, mares covering the eyes of their foals so their precious babbehs wouldn’t have to see what had happened.
The Smarty giggled.
“Teehee, poopie pizza nummies habe mowe poopies nao! Smawty am su smawt! Dat dom-in-ence dispway mean dummeh hoomin wiww habe to gibe Smawty sketties!”
Mr. Hurt clenched his fists, inhaled, exhaled, and then stared straight at the Smarty.
“You know what?! I don’t have any spaghetti, but I do have something for you for dessert. Do you know what a cannoli is? Actually of course you don’t, you’re a fluffy. Well let me tell you what cannoli, eclair, and you are going to have in common:”
The Smarty doesn’t realize the danger he’s in until Mr. Hurt grabs him by the scruff of his neck and begins tearing his limbs off. The messily-pillowed Smarty is then tossed to the herd of fluffies whose meal he just ruined. Every single fluffy in it looks furious.
Even the foals are glaring, which was really hard since some still had their eyes closed.
Mr. Hurt finishes his previous comment.
“A cream filling.”
The male fluffies immediately started raping the Smarty.
Mr. Hurt brightens up.
“Okay, I’ll have another pizza out for you as fast as possible. Please be patient.”
The fluffies happily agreed.
“Otah!”
“Nu pwobwem!”
“Wan gibe nyu enfie-paw speshuw-huggies next!”
“Fwuffies wibe in a so-sy-et-tee.”
When Mr. Hurt returned with a new pizza the Smarty was in indescribable condition.
The fluffy herd, having sate their lust for vengeance, tore into the pizza with gusto.
Then they all fell unconscious as the drugs Mr. Hurt had baked into the pizza took effect.
Mr. Hurt made a call and workers from the local fluffshelter drove over to pick up the fluffies. Mr. Hurt didn’t let them take the Smarty though, he figured an enfie-pal would give the next feral herd to show up something to do while he made pizza for them.
A single tear rolled down the Smarty’s cheek as he wondered what he’d done to deserve this. He hadn’t done anything wrong, that dummeh hoomin should be thanking him for showing him how bad his nummies were and begging to give him skettis.
Then another herd of feral fluffies showed up and the Smarty got gang-raped again.