You never understood why people hated fluffies when you were young. Call it a sheltered life, unawareness of the world, or just apathy towards them entirely. You just never gave a shit. Your sister was more of a sporty type, so she never even thought about fluffies. Too busy with track and field for glorified hamsters. Your family had a dog that would scare ferals away and was an amazing pet besides, so you never wanted for animal companionship. Never associated with the kids who skinned foals alive or shoved firecrackers up their asses at recess or otherwise abused them. Just didnât seem like fun, and the lingering smell of blood and shit made you nauseous. No, you never had anything to say about them other than they annoyed you when they wouldnât shut up. âSav babbeh!â âPweez sav speshal fwend!â âGiv smawty wahm haws and wub! Or Smawty giv wowest owwies! Giv dummeh humman fohevah sweepies!â Hearing them warble all that in passing when you didnât even pay them any attention was grating, but never worth being covered in their blood, piss, or shit by stomping them or otherwise.
It was when you got older and got your part time job delivering pizza that you started to see why people hated them so much and called them âshit rats.â Couldnât go a single day without seeing one of them hump a foal to death, covering each other in piss or shit, or otherwise being hellspawn. The number of times they chased after you while you delivered pizza was idiotic. Generally, you didnât lash out cause it was just a female âneeding nummies for babbehs.â Canât fault a mom for wanting food for itâs kids, regardless of if she was an annoying and active drain on the planet. You would just keep walking, or maybe give one half a granola bar if it had any manners and said âpweeez nisest mistah!â Other than that? Nothing.
Until that one day in fall.
You needed to walk up this stupid tall apartment complex to deliver for a party. It was top floor, penthouse bullshit. Elevator was broken so you had to carry a stack of fifteen pizzas up some 20 floors? Arms tired, legs tired, and patience wearing thin, guy at the top was a major stoner, and gave you a nice cloud of hotbox smoke when he opened the door.
âBrrooooooâŚdudes got the pizza hookup!â Excited but drawn out âBroooooooooo!!â echoed behind him.
âHey, itâs $220 man.â was all you could muster. 30 minutes or less bullshit meant you busted your ass to get it here, but you didnât expect much as you fought to breathe in normal air vs second hand pot smoke.
âBro⌠man, hereâsâŚâ he pulls out his wallet, and gave you a 270 in tens. â269 plus 1 bro!â Him and all his buddies almost drop to the ground laughing, but you were just baffled to so much extra as a tip.
âWoah, thanks man!â You were just about to hand them all over when he takes them out of your hands, and hands one back. âWhatâŚ?â
He opens the one on the bottom. Extra cheese, extra pineapple. He takes one slice, and calls out behind him, âBlazeit! Come ere little broski!!â
From behind him waddles a fat, dark green fluffy. âNummmmmies!â is all the fluffy could say. Looking closely, its higher than a fucking kite despite probably not getting too much smoke. The guy takes half the pineapple pizza, and gives it to the fat fluffy, who proceeds to waddle back into the highrise, chewing on itâs massive meal. For itâs size, anyway. He stands back up, and sighs in contentment as itâs little wings flap in joy.
He turns back to you, and says âGo ahead and keep that pie man. None of us like pineapple, but Blazeit over there is celebrating his 1st birthday here. Told him Iâd order him his favorite if he didnât shit or piss outside his litter box for a month. Didnât think it would happen, but here we are. Thanks man. Have a good night, yuh? Donât forget to pay it forward!â
As he shuts the door, leaving you with half a free pizza and an extra 50 dollars richer, you thank god for rich people and their fluffies. Walking down the stairs though and back to your bike, is where you see the opposite spectrum for fluffies once again. You see a mare, ribs showing and blue fur dull and ragged, showing her baby to passerby.
âPweez! Pweez gib wahm hausie, and sketti for miwkies! Babbeh go fowebah sweepies suhn! Boo boo juice wahnt stawp! Babbeh need miwkies and no cowdies to ged beddah! Save bestest babbeh!â all the while holding a pink little foal, with looks like a bleeding head. Sheâs in the same alley you parked your bike, so you canât really slip by her. You kneel down, balancing the pizza in one hand, and see that the little fluffy used to be a⌠unicorn? You know their supposed to be horses or something, but never paid attention. You wouldnât be paying attention now either if you werenât in such a good mood.
âJesus Christ. Yeah, sure, Iâll help.â You walk past the fluffy, and her other babies chirping behind a trash can, to set the box of pizza on your bike. âNisestest mistah hewp mommah? And babbehs? Yay!â That last screech was almost ear-piercing, but again, only normal to be happy and loud as fuck. âHehe, yeah, sure, just be fucking quiet ok?â You pull down a box from a dumpster, and set it down behind the dumpster and out of sight. You gesture for the mom to bring itâs babies over, and be quiet. âNeed to get you guys somewhere else. Probably just bring dogs over if I gave you something warm now.â
Maybe it was your brain cells dying en masse to be near such an intolerably dumb-sounding creature, but soon its words began to make more sense and sound clearer to your ears. âYay! Bestest human give bestest momma and bestest babbehs home! Yay!â She begins herding her babies your way, most of them covered in shit or mud. One waddles far behind however, and it catches your attention. âHey, youâre about to lose one.â
The mare looks back to see a white fluffy ball limping after. She sighs," Cum own munstah babbeh! Mabeh need for nummies later!" You arenât too sure what it means by that, but the dirty white fluff ball comes closer as it begins to cry. âHuhuhu, no wanna be nummies! Wahn wub and huggies!â You begin to pick up the baby closest as the white one limps closer, doing your best to use old newspaper as gloves to not get covered in fluffy shit. âPay it forward man, nice things happen to nice peopleâŚâ
You pick up a little black one with wings, two little green ones hugging each other so tight you canât separate them, a blue one like itâs mom with nothing special, and finally the pink unicorn goes in last. You pick up the mom fluffy (the fuck? she weighs nothing!) and finally, just walk closer to pick up the white fluff ball. Itâs⌠got a horn and wings? Doesnât that mean that itâs special, or something? Its hoof is kinda fucked, but just as youâre about to set it down(why is it crying âNU! Nu wannah be neaw meanie bwuddah!â near the black one?) you hear a shrill whine coming from the opposite end of the alley. âSCREEEE! MUNSTAH HEWMAN! SMAWTY SAV SPESHAW FWEN!â
You look left, and see a dis-GUSTING looking fluffy. Its red mane and puke green fur sears your eyes, but its shit-covered behind makes those colors even worse to look at. You know that it canât do shit. âChill little guy, Iâm helping your-â you pause as you realise he is already charging you. âGIV BAK SPEHUW FWEEEND!â is his little war cry as he bumps into your shin. He actually had some speed, and might have done something if you were wearing shorts. âGeez, what a little hero!â is all you muster as you stand back up. He tumbled after he charged, so you roll him over with your foot as you nestle the alicorn(?) under your arm.
He quickly re-orients himself, before turning to you. His eyes bulge as shrill squeeks fill the alley:âDwop munstah babbeh! Gib speshuw fwend! Neeb gud feews NUUU!â Some scattered and stale fries have fallen from his mouth as he spews this. You sigh and shake your head. Might as well take him with.
But you pause. The little foal under your arm has pissed in the newspaper you had her in and is dribbling out between her front hooves. Not too weird, until you also see the mare and babies have gone silent except for a few chirps and âHuuuuhuuuu⌠baddest daddeh is baaakâŚâ Well, that with the sound of more pissing.
You look down again and ask the mare (she can talk, so she should be able to answer), âWhy are you so scared of your, uh, special friend?â
She looks down between her hooves, and can barely muttter out, âMommeh wan away⌠speshuw fwend⌠he enf all udder babbehs tuh fowebah sweepies! Huuuuuuhuuuuu⌠Mummah sav babbehs weft⌠PWEEZE NO WET SPESHAW FWEND HUWTIES BABBEHS! PWEEEZ! PWEEEZ! DADDEH SABE MUMMEH AN BABBEHS! AHUUUUUU! HUHUH-â Sheâs in hysterics now.
âŚthe fuck?
âThe fuck is enf?â
The colt(?) at your feet takes on a wicked grin, as he stands up and reaches for the foal under your arm. âSmawty shu dummeh humman! Gib munstah babbeh! Smawty yews monstuh babbeh for bestes feews! Mayk monstuh babbeh tuh ENFIE BABBEH!â As he says thisâŚ
He gets a fucking boner.
For the second time, in the past five minutes youâve been dealing with this clusterfuck, you ask yourself if this is worth it. The gears in your mind turn all the same until realize what âenfâ is.
OH.
ENF IS FUCK.
Gears turnâŚ
HE FUCKED HIS BABIES TO DEATH?! WHAT THE FUCK!? Your eyes canât help but take on a terrified panic as you look at the little foal under your arm. Then to the other foals in the box. Then to the mare, who is still crying and asking for âno more special huggies for babies.â
âDummeh humman gib enfie babbeh nu!â You are pulled back to this shitty alley, and back towards this colt. Your mind is now unlocking repressed memories of fluffy torture at amazing speed, and suddenly the vocab used by all the abusers youâve seen and talked to comes back as well. Special friends, special huggies, momma songs, smarties-
Fucking smarties.
Your eyes narrow as you look down at this little⌠shit rat. Heâs gotten tired of asking, and has now turned around to try and shit on you. âDummeh humman take sowwy poopies! Den smawty gib humman wowest huwties, DEN SMAWTY WIWW ENF AWW DUMMEH BABBEHS! Dummeh mummah is wowest mummah! Wiww gib speshaw huggies untiw fowebah sweepies, den smawty wiww,â is as far he gets before you side step and punt his side.
He hits the alley wall with a thud and crack, and begins to squeal. Blood drips from his mouth and gets flecked onto the ground as he starts again. âDUMMEH HUMMAN! NU GIB HUWTIES TUH SMAWTIE! Smawtie gib wowest humman wowest speshaw huggies, den smawtie-SCREEEEEEEE-â
Nope. Nope, no more. You pull your sneaker off the shit ratâs front leg and step back. Still holding the foal, you set her down in a pile of rags by the dumpster and grab your pack off your shoulder. You keep pretty simple stuff in here in case your bike breaks. Air pump, wrenches, some WD40, usual road kit to not have to walk home from wherever you are. What you need though, as the FUCKING SHIT RAT keeps screeching is right on top. The most versatile solution to all of lifeâs problems: duct tape.
First problem: Heâs too fucking loud, and wonât stop with the verbal diarrhea. So, the first solution: shut him up. âDUMMEH,â is all he gets out as you unroll a length of duct tape. He screeches again as you step forward, but is muffled as you hold his mouth shut. You wrap the duct tape first around his snout, then wrap it back around his head. One more wrap around the snout, and done. In all of about five seconds, heâs gone from ear rapist to eye molester only. Heâs stunned for a second, before realizing he canât open his mouth anymore. Disgruntled moans and muffled screeches are all he can do now. Ahhhh, peace.
With only one leg broken, he tries to stand and starts to drag himself away. Canât talk, so you think weâre finished. Not a chance in hell.
Second problem: Running away. Second solution: More tape.
You grab him by the impromptu muzzle on the back of his head and drag him to the dumpster. You get behind it and out of sight and toss him against it. He makes some effort to call you a dummy human again, (you think, all you hear is "dmmemm hmemem!) but your hand against its throat stops that. Gasping and wheezing, you take another length of tape. You lift it up a bit and tape it by the throat to the outer dumpster wall. Not sure if it will hold, you tape its midsection as well. As all of this is going on, the mom and foals in the box are in awe. Youâve single-handedly saved them from fates worse than death, and havenât even broken a sweat. âNyu daddeh is stwonges daddehâŚâ Canât lie, feels pretty good.
Just as you finish taping the fucker up, your phone buzzes. Shit, itâs your boss.
âDANIEL WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?! YOU GOOD SON?!â
Your boss is some grizzled vet from special forces. Which? He wonât say. Now, he runs a mom-and-pop pizza shop.
âSorry Mr.Natelli. I uh, saw some fluffies and-â
âSHIT RATS?! SON, WE DONâT GOT TIME FOR HUGBOXY BULLSHIT! Fucking stomp em and be done with it! We still need to clean for the night after that massive order!â
Heâs never liked fluffies. One too many incidents of them trying to get into âsketti bwed wand!â have ended in crushed fluffy heads in the doors, and rat traps catching more fluffies than rats. You really donât want to just leave this little fucker to go just yet. This isnât about abuse. This is just some human decency.
âMr.Natelli, do you know fluffy speech and shit?â
âSon, the fuck do you mean?â
âDo you know what a,â you struggle to recall what the little waste of shit and blood said, âenfie baby is?â
Silence takes hold for a couple of moments. When Mr.Natelli speaks again, itâs with the same coldness he has when he talks about his ex-son-in-law.
âWhere did you hear that? Did you hear a shit rat say that?â
âUh, yes. Sir.â
You hear him sigh, and can already hear him put his head in one of his hands. âSon, did you find a shit rat humping something, and say that? Donât answer. Just, look, get back here and-â
âI have the shit rat.â
Silence.
âSo you saw it?â
âUh, no. Not quite? Not yet?â
âDANIEL, TAKE THE RIDDLE DICK OUT OF YOUR MOUTH AND FUCKING TALK!â
âSir, I found a mare and her babies and put them in a box. Was about to move them away from an alley and closer to the shelter. On 5th and Maine? Just as Iâm about to put the last foal in, this âsmartieâ comes and charges into my leg. The mare and babies shit themselves, they AND the stupid shit rat said he raped all his other babies to death, and now I have him duct taped to a dumpster.â
Silence.
âSir?â
âDuct tape?â
âYes, Mr.Natelli.â
âAnd you have all the others?â
âYes, sir.â
âWhat colors?â
âSir?â
âDANIEL, FUCKING COLORS. WHAT COLORS ARE THE SHIT RAT BABIES!?â
Youâve never actually heard him get so pissed at YOU before.
âUm, one black. Two green, one blue, one pink, and one white.â
He pauses. You have never heard him think so much instead of talking before.
âYou in the alley beside the last order?â
âYes, sir.â
âAnd you have the baby-raping shit rat there? With all the other babies being fine?â
âOne has a broken horn, and the white one has a kinda fucked leg? But itâs wings and horn is fine.â
He pauses. AGAIN. What the fuck is going on with him?
âThe white one has wings and a horn?â You can barely hear him, heâs talking practically in a whisper.
âY-yes, sir. Is⌠is that bad?â
âDan, I donât give a fuck if that white one shits and pisses all over you. Hold it, keep it calm, and make sure it stays happy as can be. Stay there, and donât hurt the one taped up anymore either.â He stops. âNevermind hurt it all you want, but DON"T KILL IT. Iâll be there in an hour, need to close shop.â
The dial tone starts as he hangs up. Youâre left standing in a dingy alleyway on a cold night in autumn, surrounded by fluffies and their shit. You sigh.
You walk over to the white foal (Nyu daddeh nu huwt munstah babbeh pweezâŚ) and start wiping down with the rags. A little less shitty, you pick it up (Bad upies? ow guwd uppie? Nyu daddeh?) and wrap it up to make sure it doesnât freeze. Bundled up, you take a sit against another dumpster and face the little shit as you hold his only redeeming mark on this world. Heâs shit on the side of the dumpster, and covered his own belly in steaming piss. Still trying to cuss you out you guess, in its own little stupid way.
One more.
You get up and grab a pair of latex gloves from your pack. Usually need these for handling bike chain oil so you can keep your hands clean for pizzas, but now you donât want to get covered in piss.
âDaddeh?â Shit, you forgot all about the mare in the box. âYeah, little one?â
âTummie huwts. Nee mak miwkies, but nu nummies!â
SIIIIIIIGH
You take a quarter of the pineapple pizza from the box, and toss it in with the mare. âNUMMIES! TANK EW NYU DADDEH! Bestes Daddeh!â
The mare taken care of and her babies chirping happily, you walk over to the one whose being glaring daggers the whole time at you and the white foal.
âShit rat. I will feed youâŚâ you think for a second. âBestest spaghetti, but first I need to make you look better. I need to touch your hind legs for a second. If you donât piss or shit on me, Iâll let you down, give you food, andâŚâ
You spit this out as best you can, but it still feels vile to say. âBestest enfie baby.â
God, he looks so excited now. He nods excitedly even as his dong grows out, and you can even hear him say something like âknew smartie was bestest fluffy! Dummy human is turning into smartie human! Give smarties best of all things!â Of course, all you hear is muffled grunts.
The mare, babies, and white foal all gasp, and start apologizing. You shush them, saying âNo, none of you! A different one!â
This calms all of them, and you canât help but start to hate the mare and foals for calming down so quickly once they realized THEY werenât in danger. Grabbing the duct tape again as the dumpster smartie starts humming happily (fucking disgusting shit), you notice the white foal is still crying.
âHey, I said it wasnât gonna be any of you. Chill.â You console her, petting her head with a finger.
âBut⌠babbeh stiww gonna get huwt! Babbeh stiww gonnna go fowebah sweepies when daddeh⌠nu! Make munstah babbie enfie babbeh! nu huwt uddaw babbehs⌠uddew babbehs gud babbehsâŚnu am gud babbehâŚâ
Oh fuck, it has empathy. And isnât a selfish little shit. Damn. Now sheâs crying. Shit. Honestly, you donât think youâve cursed this much, mentally or verbally, ever in your life before. What is going on?
You get close to the foal and start whispering, âIâm not gonna give your bad daddy any good things. Heâs been bad, so Iâm gonna trick him. Heâs not getting any babies so chill, ok?â
Once she realizes you arenât about to eat her, she looks up into your eyes. She gazes into yours for a moment. Damn, are her eyes actually shaped like blue galaxies? How did Hasbio even do that?
âWiwwy?â
âYes. But keep crying, so he doesnât figure it ok? Just a fake cry.â
âOkie. Wub ou bestes daddehâŚâ
Oh. Oh, that actually hit a chord. In a good way. Is this how hugboxers are made? She starts crying again all the same.
Walking over to the living embodiment of disgust on the dumpster, you kneel down and take a rag. You clean the piss and shit off his stomach as best you can, and almost retch when he moans after you touch his dick with the rag. Next is his shithole, which he is less enthused about. He makes a grunt and you can tell what heâs about to try.
âHEY! SHIT, AND IâM CUTTING YOUR DICK AND BALLS OFF!â
That makes his eyes go wide, but you can visibly see his gut constrict to hold in whatever was about to splatter on your knees. Perfect.
You really donât want to, but your plan needs it. You wipe his ass with another dirty rag, and look at your handiwork. Still damp and shitty all over, but good enough. âGood. Now close your eyes, and Iâll let you down.â
He complies, and you finally can start. You grin like the devil himself as you grab a rock that looks barely too big width-wise, but perfect in length. So he doesnât find out what youâre doing, you need to do this quickly.
You pull another length of tape out, and measure against the fluffyâs stomach. Good. âAlmost done, keep your eyes closed!â
You place one end on the base of his spine and quickly shove the entire stone up its ass. Blood and shit almost start flowing out as you bring the other end of the tape up to where the length across itâs stomach is. The fluffy is actually still pretty loud as it screeches, but the tape now covering his ass and end of his dick keep any âsowwie poopies and pee peesâ right on his fluff.
Another couple squares, and all the piss is dribbling from his stomach and all the way to his ass fluff. You sigh in contentment. Worth it.
You walk back over to the foal, who has since just started humming itself to sleep. You scrithc itâs head, eliciting a happy coo. The other babbies are now sleeping or suckling on their resting mom. Good. Even as the puke-colored fluffy screams something about âwowest poopie place owies,â all the others rest peacefully. Damn. They hate his guts as much as you. Cool.
You check your phone. Another 50 until Mr. Natelli gets here. Maybe. Traffic looked rough on the way here. Fuck.
You sit beside the white foal and pick it up. You put it in your lap, calming its peeps of terror, and gently stroke it to sleep as its shitty father screams in agony. Guess it was this little oneâs lucky day.
God damn it.
Fucking fluffies.