As I pulled up to the Station, I realized I’d have to go in the front door and keep Tifa from barking. Fluffies, especially ferals, are terrified of dogs and I didn’t want the herds of idiots that lived around the Station to be scared off. Shutting the door behind me, I could hear Love Huggy shifting in the cage and huhu’ing. I put Tifa down behind the old check out counter and told her to stay. She curled up on a pile of clean rags I used for clean up.
I walked over to check the damage and couldn’t hold in the laughing at the sight. After tumbling over the edge of the workbench, it ended up with Love Huggy upside down. She had spent the night with her ass up in the air, shitting and pissing all down herself. She could barely open her eyes and when she saw me, she blorted out some diarrhea and tried to yell, but instead got a mouth full of fluffy mud. She gagged, puked, and continued with the constant huhu’ing. Some of the shards of glass from the fallen jar had cut up her head as well as embedded themselves in the little green foal. If she wasn’t dead when the jar ran out of air, she definitely was from the fall and glass shards.
At the sound of her voice, the remaining two foals in the box started peeping. I remembered as I walked by that they were probably hungry. I had left them a hand full of kibble, but they were too small to eat it. The pair wiggled out of the dirty rags I tossed in there and upon seeing me they retreated to the corner of the box, pissing and shitting in terror. These fucking things do nothing but excrete waste for the smallest thing.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get you some milkies.” They stopped. I gave the box a kick and they started peeping in fear again.
I picked up the crate and carried it to the old mop sink where there was a floor drain. I had hooked a hose up to the faucet and used it to hose down the crate with Love Huggy still inside. She screeched.
“WAWA AM BAD FO FWUFFY WAWAAMBADFOFWUFFY! SCREEEEE!”
Every time she’d open her mouth to scree I’d focus the jet of water on it until she gurgled and gagged. Eventually she was clean enough and I took stock. The crate she was in has been crunched a bit from the fall so she was actually squished a bit more than before. I noticed her teats were just close enough to holes in between the bars that the two foals could suckle.
I placed her upright on the floor and grabbed the two shitty foals and put them near the crate. Love Huggy pleaded with me to not hurt her babies.
“Eat you little fucks.” They waddled over to crate and latched on. Through a choked voice, she started coo’ing and singing to the foals.
“Mummah wuv babbehs, babbehs wuv mummah, dwink miwkie gwow big an stwong…”
They stopped peeping and started coo’ing as they suckled. I let this go for a bit while I continued cleaning up the mess.
“Ok, times up.” I put the bestest into the box. The yellow one, Yellow Sky Ball, I picked up one hand over the hips and one hand over the shoulders. It started peeping and cheeping.
“Nu bad uppsies…” it squeaked. I smacked it hard on the head and after a sec it started peeping and cheeping. Love Huggy huhu’ed louder. “Pwease Gud Mista, pweese, Wuv Huggie nu why Gud Mista gib wowstest huwtied and foweva sweepies to babbehs, but Wuv Huggie am sowwy. Wiw do anything, pwease wet Wuv Huggie an wast babbehs go…”
“Oh? What will you give Good Mister to let you go”, thinking. She had no fucking clue.
“Wuv Huggies nu ask nummies any mowe. Wiw neba come back, pweese wet babbeh go.”
While she babbled, I started twisting the foal, each hand in the opposite direction. It started peeping and stuck a hoof in its mouth. As I twisted harder it started crying, then squeaking, then making rough noises when it inhaled. It closed its eyes and it’s lips pulled back in a grimace of pain. As I twisted more, I could feel the popping of joints. Its mouth opened and it stuck its tongue out. I kept twisting. Its eyes opened and I could see some blood vessels had started to burst. The skin around its lips and on its snout started turning a darker purple color. It gurgled and vomited up all the milk it had gorged itself on. I kept twisting. The top of the foal was beyond 180 degrees from the bottom half. I listened carefully and it was just able to inhale a tiny bit, so it was slowly suffocating, but not completely cut off from air.
I let go with one hand and the top half of the foal spun back mostly to normal, its eyes opened wide and it took big gulping breaths in between some of the loudest (for a foal) screeee screams I’ve ever heard.
The top half also flopped to the side, so there was absolutely internal damage. After a second it vomited again and this time the contents were milk mixed with blood and who knows what else.
Love Huggy wailed in frustration and greif and pain. I found myself not feeling anything. These things disgust me so much, I don’t feel anything for their pain. Interesting.
“NUUUU WEWWOW SKY BAWW! NUUUUUUU! WETFWUFFYGOWETFWUFFYGOWETFWUFFYGO! NU AM BAD FWUFFY! YU AM MEAN MUNSTA GIB BABBEHS AN MUMMAH HUWTIES!”
Hilarious, she’s lashing out. I kicked the cage as hard as I could and sent it skidding across the floor, crashing into the leg of the workbench. She scree’ed and I stalked as quickly and scary looking as I could muster over to where she landed. The second she saw me in what I can only presume was Fluffy Satan. Even up to now I hadn’t seen this level of fear in her.
I snatched up the cage and slammed it down on the work bench. That knocked the breath out of her so the huhu’s and screes were interrupted with her gasping for breath. I opened the cage door, grabbed a hank of her mane, and pulled her out as hard as I could. She scree’ed loudly and when I released her I realized I had yanked out a bunch of the fur. She tried to wiggle away, but I held her down while I grabbed some straps to bind her legs so she couldn’t move.
I grabbed the box where a very alarmed bestest foal was. The little fucker was so stressed he was laying sideways with a hoof in his mouth. I grabbed him and set him down in front of Love Huggy’s face. She started pleading again. The foal squeaked, “Mummah! Bestest babbeh gib huggies make few bettew!”
“Nope!”, I drug it back by it’s tail. Love Huggy had been reduced to incoherence. She was making words, I could pick out some “munstas" and some “babbehs” but that was about it.
I grabbed her face so she was looking into mine. “Love Huggy. I want you to know that I’m going to kill your bestest baby.”
“NUUUUUUU! WITTWE WUV HUGGY AM BESTEST! PWEASE WET KEEP BESTEST BABBEH!"
“Yes, Love Huggy. Yes. I’m going to give him forever sleep, and in fact, I’m going to do it slowly so he feels worst hurts for as long as possible.”
“NUUUU!”
“Yup. Say goodbye.”
The foal was shivering in terror and just cheeping. “Yup. You’re getting forever sleepies, Little Love Huggy. Do you understand that?”, I said to the foal. No idea if he got all that, but he farted out a little turd and started shaking more. I pinched him hard for that. Fucking shit rat.
I built a little barrier around Love Huggy’s head so the foal could be near her face but couldn’t wonder off. She stared coo’ing and singing to the foal. The foal snuggled as hard as it could under her chin. They coo’ed and huhu’ed. It probably should have made me feel some sort of bad, but it didn’t. It was a mockery of people and real animals. As they had their touching moment, I threw an empty beer bottle at them, it breaking by her face. They started huhu’ing. “I’m going to kill your babbeh”, I reminded her from across the room.
While this was going on, I had placed an old pot over a camping burner and filled it with some of the old motor oil I found cleaning up the Station. It didn’t take too long before the oil came up to a lazy boil. Excellent. That should be about 400F easy. “It’s time, shit rats.”
As I tried to reach for the babbeh, Love Huggy screamed and tried to bite my hand. I laughed and punched her on the top of the head. Her eyes rolled for a moment, her bell rung. After scooping up the foal, I tied a length of very stiff wire under it’s front legs so it dangled feet down. Clearing the barrier of stuff away, I moved the burner of hot oil in front of her where she could see and gave here a few moments to realize what was going on after the punch to the head.
I positioned the foal over the boiling oil. It started peeping in alarm rapidly and loudly.
“Good bye Little Love Huggy! Good bye!” I started lowering the foal.
“Nuuuuuuu…”. She was defeated. No fight. At least for now.
I dropped the foal low enough to get it’s lower hooves into the oil. Instantly it screamed and started thrashing. I kept lowering. The scree of the foal was sharp and…primal? I don’t know if that is an accurate description for a bio-engineered toy with a voice designed by marketing people who think they know what little kids like, but don’t actually know any little kids, but it’s probably the best description.
The foal was thrashing hard. I could only imagine the mind blowing pain it was feeling being boiled alive in oil. I continued to slowly lower the foal down and it started puking up milk. Love Huggy was just staring at her baby and huhu’ing.
As the oil reached its chest, the thrashing got less intense and the noise the foal made got quieter, so I did the only thing I could think of to make this funny. I dunked it all the way in the oil and quickly pulled its head up. It loudly scree’d and I quickly dunked it again, timing it to get hot oil in it’s mouth and lungs. It gurgled and thrashed. I pulled the foal all the way out and set it in front of Love Huggy who just huhu’ed all the harder as the foal tried to reach out to her with its front legs. Most of its fur and top layer of skin was sloughing off leaving angry red patches of the lower layers of skin. It’s snout had oil leaking out of its nostrils and its lips pulled back in a grin of pain. When it opened its eyes, they were milky in the same way fish eyes get when they’re cooked.
“bestest…huhuhuhuhuhuhu…”
It took ten, what I can only imagine were horrifically agonizing minutes for the foal to die. When it stopped breathing, Love Huggy let out the most mournful and sad wail.
“You have no more foals. You are such a terrible mother! You let me kill all your babies you shit fucking mother.” She winced at this.
“Meanie musta, meanie munsta am, meanie munsta am munsta. Gib forevew sweepies to babbehs. Gib Wub Huggie wowstes owies an heawt huwties. Nu faiw, Wuv Huggie do nuffin to meanie munsta! Bebbehs do nuffin! NU FAIW! huhuhuhuhu…”
“Yup, life sucks and is unfair. Still doesn’t excuse how terrible of a mother you are though. Your babies loved you and you let them die.” I love how the people who made these stupid bio-toys, either intentionally or unintentionally, programmed them to feel pain from talk like this.
“Well, Love Huggie. It’s time for you to get forever sleepies now. You letting me kill all your babies has made me realize you’re a horrible bad fluffy and you don’t deserve anything, not love, not hugs, not sketties. Nothing except a worse hurts and forever sleepies.”
“wuv huggie nu cawe anymow, be wif babbehs in skettiwand huhuhuhuhuhu….”
Ah, Sketty Land. I read about this on the community. Some stupid “heaven” loads of fluffies believe in. Mostly ferals. No one knows if it’s something they were programmed with, a glitch in their programming, or an independent thought. Regardless, this was going to be awesome.
I picked up the fluffy and undid the straps binding her legs. Walking to the old walk-in cooler I turned on the light and placed Love Huggy down at the back end of the empty cooler. She just laid there staring at the wall.
“Do you know what the most disgusting part of you is, Love Huggy? You were such a bad, terrible mummeh that made me kill her babies for being a terrible fluffy, that when you go forever sleepies, they will never EVER let you into Sketty Land. Sketty Land is for good fluffies and you’re a horrible fluffy.”
She closed her eyes and shook in silent huhu’s. That was devastating. It was really hard to stifle the laughter. Being a fluffy villain was ridiculous, but the reactions from their stupid fucking faces was worth it.
“Goodbye Love Huggy”. I whistled. Tifa, had been spending the afternoon bouncing between the excitement knowing something was going on and snoozing quietly in the clean rag pile. Now she ran over to my side. “Stay. Good girl.”
Love Huggy looked over and saw the rat terrier who was staring back, tail slowly wagging, ears and nose twitching. Tifa was about 20lbs so, about the same size as the fluffy. Good. I’ve seen what she’s done to rats and squirrels that had the misfortune of getting in the house or yard.
“B…b…b..bb.bbbbbbAAWKIE MUNSTA! SCREEEEEEEE!” she blasted a load of shit as she scrambled to the back and pawed at the wall desperately trying to escape, mad with fear.
“Get it, Tifa!” The dog ran straight to the fluffy and bit down on her neck. The fluffy screamed in pain. I could tell Tifa’s instinct was trying to kick in. For a rat she’d clamp down on the back of the neck and try to shake it as hard as she could, but the fluffy being about her side meant she couldn’t easily pick her up for shaking.
“SCREEEEE BAWKIE MUSTA PWEASE NU HUWT PWEASESTOPWEASESTOP!” she begged the terrier who didn’t understand what she was saying.
Tifa was holding the fluffy down with her front feet and every time the fluffy would turn her face to the dog, she would bite her snout and rip, something she would do to incapacitate a rat to keep it from biting her. The fluffy’s tender snout was shredded after a couple rounds of this and the idiot fluffy still kept trying to bargain with the dog.
Eventually, Tifa was able to roll the fluffy enough to get a hold of the front of her neck. I heard the sound of Love Huggy’s pleas go from terrified to hoarse and wet. The dog’s strong jaws probably did some major damage to the fluffy’s throat.
“Tifa, come!” she gave a bark and reluctantly came back to me. Her face was covered in blood and her paws were covered in fluffy shit. Gross, but nothing a bath can’t fix. I could tell the dog was having fun, at least for whatever value of fun a dog can have. She had the same happy wagging tail, the same bright eyes, and the same panting “smile” she gets a hold of small prey outside.
After hosing her off, I returned to the walk-in cooler. Love Huggy was surprisingly still alive, though probably not for much longer. I squatted down next to her. She stared up at me. I don’t know if she was trying to talk, but her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out but a gurgle and bloody spit.
“Love Huggy, you are still alive. I’m surprised. Don’t you want to die?" She blinked slowly, a fat tear running out of the one eye that wasn’t bloody and swollen shut. She nodded yes.
“Ha! You don’t deserve someone giving you forever sleepies. You get to lay here and feel the worst hurties until you die on your own. Only good mommies get relieve. Only good fluffies get to go to Sketty Land. You’re neither of those things. No one loves you. No one ever loved you.”
More tears. More trying to talk. Then, I’m slightly embarrassed to say, I got a final flash of inspiration to make her last moments the worse a fluffy could have.
I stood up and unbuckled my belt, hiked my pants down, and position my asshole over her.
“Before you die Love Huggy, I’m going to give you worsest sorry poopies because that’s what you deserve for being the worse fluffy to ever exist.”
And I shit on her. She let out a gurgling sob.
I closed the door to the walk-in and cleaned up all my work. After that, I checked back in on Love Huggy and she was laying there, staring up at the ceiling, shit all over her face, dead. She had been crying until the end. Excellent.
After shoveling that mess up, I went out the back door and dumped some kibble into the bowls while I shoveled up more fluffy shit. When they saw me, a group of them came over singing their stupid songs about “Gud Mista gib nummies and wuv to gud fwuffies”. I just smiled. Eat up morons.
And with that, Tifa and I having had a great day, stopped at the local, dog friendly brewery and I had a couple of pints. What a great day. I felt invigorated.