Months had passed after I had destroyed the red smarty in my basement. Life had returned to normal, but I had this itch to wreck more of the shitty little toys. The problem was, while I’d get some time once in a while when my wife was out of town, it wasn’t going to be enough. I know now that I had become a bit hooked on torturing these things. I don’t want to say I’ve become obsessed with making them suffer, but sure, I kind of have. And why not? These disgusting things shouldn’t exist and if they’re going to and if it’s not going to be illegal, I’m going to have some fun.
I had started looking around for a cheap rundown building which wasn’t hard. I had monitored the county and city auction sites until I found it. An old abandoned gas station in one of the rundown areas of town not far from where I found Red-Fluffy surrounded by vacant lots and homes. It even came with a few outbuildings. At the auction no one else bid on this place so I unbelievably got the whole parcel and building for a few hundred bucks.
My plan was simple: this was going to become my little workshop. It was far enough away that I could get away with anything with minimal interruptions and as a bonus, the first time I visited my property, I noticed evidence of fluffies. The only potential problem was not making my wife suspicious or her finding out about my little hobby workshop. Since it was so cheap, she wouldn’t notice the purchase and for now I could find time to be there when she was at music practice or teaching a lesson. I could even get at least a night or two after work by saying I found a group of friends to play board games with; something I had done in the past. She wouldn’t even question.
Over the next few weeks I spent any time I could at the Gas Station. I secured the main building and cleaned it up from the squatters who had trashed the place at some point in the past. The windows got boarded over, all doors fixed and lockable, and I even could re-purpose the walk-in refrigerator as “cell” of sorts. With all this in place, I was able to collect tools, implements, and gear for my fun little experiments. I was even able to get some power and water going.
With everything in place, I was finally ready to break it in.
One thing I had hoped was that I could get a mother fluffy with babies. The community site I had been frequenting had a lot of people fucking with babies and it looked like a blast. Luckily for me, as I had been getting my little shop setup, the feral fluffies that inhabited the surrounding abandoned properties were plentiful. I started by leaving fluffy kibble in bowls out back until they were comfortable with me being there. Eventually they started getting brave enough to watch and approach me. Most of the interactions were idiotic forgettable conversations, but I did find there were two different herds and both had multiple “mummahs” with babies.
By the time I was ready, the local ferals knew me as “Gud Mista” because I gave them food and didn’t hurt them. They were so simple and trusting that I wasn’t being sneaky with my questions or anything. Even a kid could have sussed out that I was planning something. God I hate them.
One of the mummahs, an especially talkative white and purple mare who’s idiot fluffy name I found out was “Wuv-Huggie”, was my target. One late afternoon, I showed up and found her and her four small foals waiting for me at the back door of the Gas Station with a few other mummahs and mares. Excellent, no smarties or toughies would make this easier. As I unlocked the door they started happily babbling and singing about the Gud Mista. I greeted the group and returned outside with some kibble and filled up the food bowl, noting that these morons had shit enough around here that I needed to deal with that. God they shit so much.
As they gobbled the kibble, I called Love Huggy over.
“Love Huggy, you’re a pretty good mummah. How would you like to come in with your babies and…”, I leaned in to whisper in her ear, “get some sketties”.
She squealed in delight. I opened the door.
“Wets go babbehs! Mummah and babbehs am get gud nummies fwom Gud Mista!” I opened the door and let them in. A few of the others in earshot started instantly crying and hu-hu’ing, complaining that it was “nu faiw!”. Their displeasure made me smile. I truly enjoy that these things experience trauma from something that simple.
I lead the fat filthy mare through to the main room. She had started singing some stupid song about her babies and sketties and all that.
“Love Huggy, your babies look too small to eat sketties. They still drink milk, yes?”
“Yus Mista, Wuv Huggie babbehs stiw wittwe babbehs. Wuv Huggie gib wots of gud miwkies and wub to babbehs and sing dem wots of songsies so dey get big and stwong! Wub Huggie wuv babbehs! Wuv Huggie want eat sketties fwom Gud Mista make best miwke!”
“Ok, settle down girl.” I chuckled kneeling down to look at her foals. I smiled, hiding my annoyance at her constant babbling. It was going to be fun to silence her eventually. While I was still new to the foals, they looked form what I had seen online to be a couple weeks old. Their eyes were open and they were babbling and able to mostly walk on their own. I picked her up and placed her on the table. She didn’t appear to be scared. I did the same to her foals, she was a little more apprehensive, not saying anything, but watching me closely.
“What are their names?”
“Dis am Dawkie Time…” Black and silver male.
“Dis am Yewwo Sky Bwaww…” An all yellow male.
“Dis am Bwave Fwuffy…” A green and black female pegasus.
“And dis am mummah bestest babbeh, Wittwe Wuv Huggie.” A fat little male with the same white and purple colors as the mother.
“Wow, those are some great babies!” I opened an expired can of spaghetti from the stack I stole from a supermarket dumpster and stuck it in a bowl. She greedily started gobbling it up while I prepared a box for the foals. While she was not paying attention, in one move I swept the foals into the box. They started crying and peeping instantly and Love Huggy turned around, spaghetti sauce all over her muzzle.
“WUT YOU DO TO BABBEHS GIBS BACK TO MUMMAH!” and of course, fat tears were streaming down her face already. “BABBEHS NEED MUMMAH GIBS BACK HU HU HUUUUU!”
I put the box down and grabbed her by the scruff.
BLORTPFFFFTTTTTT!!!
A stream of shit squirted out of her ass and she started pissing herself. More was let loose as I moved across the room and stuffed her into a small cage. I had guessed the size well enough. She couldn’t turn around and was basically squished in, uncomfortably so, but not in any danger of suffocating.
“PWEEESE WET WUV-HUGGIE GO WET BABBEHS GO ONWY WITTWE BABBEHS NEED MUMMAH HUHUHUHU!”
The foals were peeping and crying out for her. I picked up the black one. It already had shit and piss streaked down it’s haunches from where it had let go in fear. I had it by the scruff and it screeched in pain pleading in its small fluffy voice, “Bad uppsies! Screee! Am just wittle babbeh wet go wan mummeh!”
I placed it on the work bench close to the cage where his mother was imprisoned. I’ll give it this, when I placed it down it tried to bolt. Unfortunately for the foal, they’re even more clumsy than the adults.
I grabbed it and pulled it back and put its back hoof in the bench vice at my elbow. I started cranking it closed. Love Huggy pleaded and cried. When the vice started squeezing the foal scree’ed in pain which made the mare even more frantic. Tears were flowing and she was begging as hard as she could. As the vice closed, the scree from the foal climbed in pitch until it was almost inaudibly high. The hoof crunched and was pulverized. The bones in the joint just above popped. The foal was thrashing around in pain, pooping and pissing. No longer talking but just peeping and cheeping. Love Huggy was going mad in the cage.
I picked up the foal and started twisting it around, it’s vice-gripped leg stopped bending when its hip was at maximum extension. Then I started twisting harder. It was surprisingly easy to dislocate the hip and the foal vomited milk and bile when that happened. I kept twisting until I had twisted it’s body a full 360 degrees, more or less. The foal’s eyes were rolling around and it was peeping slower. Damn, it was going into shock.
I released the vice and flipped the useless broken leg back to roughly the correct orientation. I didn’t want it to just die so easily, so I grabbed my bottle of ice water and dumped a bit on the foal. It’s eyes shot open and it started peeping frantically.
Love Huggy was insane with panic at this point. She was “HU HU’ing” and shouting “Nu huwt babbies babbies am fow wuv! Babbehs nu am toy!”. The other three foals hadn’t stopped chirping and crying for their mother and in fact, started becoming more panicked as they heard what was going on.
I felt a little bummed that this thing was going to be dead soon regardless of what I did, so I wanted to maximize the suffering. I grabbed a long screw driver in one hand and held the foal in my other, horizontally. I moved in front of the caged mare.
“Love Huggy. I’m gong to impale your foal. I’m going to stick this in his poopie place and push it out his mouth, straight through him.” I put the screwdriver over the length of the foal so she could see.
“NUUUU! NUUUUUU! Pwease nu huwt babbehs nee huggies and wuv and miwkes fwom mummeh! HU HU HU! Why Gud Mista be meanie munsta and huwt Wuv-Huggie foaws!”
I grasped the foal and started feeding the tip of the screw driver into his anus. It reacted by screeing and shitting all over the screw driver head. I kept feeding the tool in, feeling intestines tear. The foal started gagging, no longer able to vomit. It gurgled as it screamed, its lips pulled back and its just emerged baby teeth and gums exposed in a grimace of pain. I kept pushing. The foal started making a weird noise that sounded like a mix between a peep and a gag and was doing this over and over again.
I could feel it shiver in my hand. As I pushed I tried to angle it as best I could to avoid the heart or lungs. I kept pushing. I saw just under its chin, the skin start to bulge from the screw driver tip and so I continued to push. The skin was actually slightly harder to push through and as I pushed, its screeing hit its peak. The screw driver tore through the skin. I slightly adjusted my grip on the foal and it instantly tried to stick a hoof in its mouth and it was still making the weird peep-gag noise. I moved the tip of the screw driver under its chin and started pressing it through its lower jaw. The peep-gagging noise became wetter as the tool punctured below it’s tongue and emerged. I forced the lower jaw to the side carefully trying to not break or dislocate it. The tongue was lolling out around the tool. The foal’s eyes darted around. When it looked at me, I could see nothing but pain, confusion, and terror. I laughed.
I flipped the screw driver, foal impaled upon it, upright. It gurgled-peeped comically and started “walking” it’s three good legs in the air. I propped it up in front of Love Huggy. She was distraught and freaking out. I laughed. She was frantically yelling about wanting to give it hugs to make it better. God I hate these things. The foal was flailing its front hooves towards her, but I couldn’t tell if it was actually trying to get to her or if it was some sort of reaction. It was staring at her though as it cried and gurgled, eventually spewing a dark bloody fluid out of its mouth and then making raspy noises as it inhaled the fluid. That got it wiggling and “walking” again, presumably because it could sense that it was, in addition to being impaled, now drowning on its own fluids. Not long after it slowed and stopped with one last wet gurgle. The mare started crying.
“Well Love Huggy, I think I’m going to leave you here for the night and we’ll continue tomorrow. Lucky for me, unlucky for you, I have the day off and nothing else to do.”
“WHY GUD MISTA AM MUNSTA! HUHUHUHUHUH! Why huwt fwuffies! Fwuffies fow wuv! Nu nu whut do make Gud Mista meanie but wiww be bettew! Pweease just wet mummah hab babbehs!”
I went over to the box of foals. The second they saw me they crammed into the corner, the “bestest” and the yellow one both behind the green pegasus, the “bestest” shitting all over the side of the yellow one. Amusingly, the green one flapped her wings making a faint buzzing noise and puffed out her cheeks. It yelled in its tiny comical voice.
“Nu…nu huwt bwuddas! Munsta nu huwt fwuffies!”
I laughed. This one, Brave-Fluffy, really was! She was trying to stand up to me. I snatched her up and gave her a squeeze over the other two. A small shower of turds and liquid shit rained down on the other two followed by a peep of pain.
Taking her with me, I a large glass gallon jar and dropped her in. She landed with a small thud, but surprisingly didn’t start crying, instead shouted up at me that she was going to give me sorry hooves. Impressive to say the least.
I stretched a plastic bag over the jar opening just to be sure, then cranked the lid on. I placed the jar in front of the cage. The foals shouts were muffled but still audible.
“Pweese wet babbeh out of sowwy box! Pweese just wittlew babbeh. Babbeh nu do nuffin wong!” She alternated between begging to let her foal out and singing to the foal in the jar, who was mashed against the side, bravery now drained at the realization of being trapped. They were trying to console each other. It was going to be hilarious to watch Love Huggy see her foal run out of air.
Before leaving I setup a small camera to record and upload the scene and dumped a handful of kibble and a couple blankets in the box with the other two foals. I wouldn’t want them to perish from the cold after all. Finally, I cleaned up the waste they blasted this session and went home.
The next morning after seeing my lovely wife off to her work, I downloaded the footage from the camera while I made breakfast. Playing it back, the mare spent a good amount of the night singing to the foal in the jar. At some point they both fell asleep until the foal started alarm cheeping. For the next 30 minutes or so as it wasted its oxygen, Love Huggy desperately tried to console the weakening and increasingly scared foal as it ran out of air. Eventually the foal stopped moving and laid gasping and huffing. When it stopped moving entirely, in one last desperate act, Love Huggy started rocking and bouncing as hard as she could, lurching the cage around eventually hard enough to knock into the jar and tip it over. The jar rolled off the bench with a crash of shattered glass. I couldn’t see it on the video, but when she heard that, she wailed loud enough to peak the little mic on the camera. She started lurching the cage even more and the whole cage fell off the bench with a crash followed by groans and cries of pain and grief. This whole farce did me in. I laughed for a good 5 minutes until tears were streaming down my face.
I finished my breakfast and got dressed, ready to drive over to the ‘Shop. I was still laughing when ever I thought about the video. Too funny. It felt like it was going to be a good day. So good in fact, I figured I’d share it with someone who would appreciate it too.
I whistled to Tifa, my rat terrier. She’s a good dog and good dogs deserve treats. I’m sure she’ll enjoy “playing” with fluffies as much as me. She barked happily and ran to the car.
Yup, It was going to be a fun day.