The feral herds fate will be determined in part by comments to the story.
Bonus points for insanity, hilarity, or depravity. I am not afraid to take this story into the Controversial section 
As always, please leave comments or questions or memes below.
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Byron was browsing the internet. He got up and stretched his neck and legs. It was unusual for him to be online for so long. He stumbled onto a forum of fluffy owners on the internet. Strewn across various sheets of paper near the computer were various notes he wrote from various forum members about fluffies. He bookmarked fluffycommunity.com, and intended to return later to showcase his sorrybox, and perhaps even try to sell a few to some of the members. He was a good mechanic, but for some reason, he was getting less and less hours at the shop, so additional, ahem tax-free income would be welcome for sure.
Byron had come to the realization that there was no hope in rehabilitating the Smarty. He had intended to rescue him this morning from his workbench in the garage, but decided against it. It was a particularly chilly morning after all, and his garage was unheated.
Byron went to his fridge and grabbed an apple, and munched on it on his way to the spare bedroom. His nose was immediately assualted by the stench of sorry-poopies and his ears were mained by the sound of a distressed Tangerine huuhuuing and sniffling loudly. Byron looked at the spectacle in front of him. he involuntarily dropped his apple on the floor and into some of the sorry poopies. Byron cursed quietly under his breath.
“Bad Tangewine gib back poopie babbeh NAO” snorted the jet-black toughie, stomping his little hoofsies with emphasis.
“Nuu, babbeh nu am fo poopies am fo wun an pway.” Tangerine said meekly.
Byron interrupted their conversation, and looked at Tangerine, asking her what happened.
“Meanie tuffie fuwuffy gib stompies an owwies an twy gib foweba sweepies for poopie babbeh but Tangewine gib sowwy hoofsies an nu wet meanie munstah kiww babbeh.”
Tangerine held the severly malnourished poopie babbeh under her thick orange maine, standing defensively over him. Byron’s heart melted, then caught fire. He saw the bad fluffies all rally around the toughie. He was going to drag them all out, but he feared for Tangerine, who was soaked in sorry poopies.
“Tangerine, I need to take you and your foals with me to somewhere safe. I’ll deal with these BAD fluffies,” you respond, emphasizing BAD and glaring at the feral herd you unknowningly adopted.
Tangerine quickly gathered her two foals, then gently placed the poopie babbeh on her back and made the trademark ‘upsies’ pose. Byron obliged, and set Tangerine down in the bathtub. He explained to her that he would come back for her and to be a good fluffy and wait right there.
Byron returned to the safe room to see six fluffy assholes all pointed at him. He turned and ran out of the room, managing to somehow avoid the shower of sorries that rained down from the bowels of hell. Byron saw red. He quickly ran through the sludge and took the food and water dishes, as well as the toys and tossed them callously behind him. Then, he picked up each fluffy and squeezed them over the litterbox until they almost passed out from the pressure on their ribcage. At least now, there could be no more sorry poopies.
He took the shit soaked food out to the garage, and combined the putrid smelling kibble that had attracted flies with the shit soaked kibble and water he took from the closet. The smarty was softly huuhuuing and slowly, cautiously began to num. Byron noticed there were no poopies on his workbench, but he didnt want to chance it. He had a small piece of dowel rod in his scrap pile that he soon impaled into the smarty’s ass, eliciting screams of “POOPIE PWACE HAB WOSTEST OWWIES. WHY MEANIE DADDEH HUWT GUD FWUFFY. huuhuuhuu fwuffy onwy wan wub.”
Byron was already back inside to the bathroom, where he washed out a set of bowls, one for water and one for food, and the toys. He used about half a bottle of dishsoap and still wondered if it was sanitary. He leaned into the tub and said to Tangerine “Daddy needs to make you smell pretty now, be a good fluffy and I’ll give you some toys and nummies.”
Tangerine, still with the foals on her back, was frozen in place. Byron shrugged to himself and picked her up and set her three foals on the counter and placed Tangerine in the sink. He filled the sink with warm water and lathered some fluffy-safe shampoo into her shit caked fluff. It took three lathers, but eventually, Tangerine seemed to relax and coo softly.
“Tank ou fo nice baff daddeh” Tangerine said quietly.
“I still need to clean the foals.” Byron said flatly.
Tangerine stepped out of the sink and talked to her foals, telling them not to be afraid of the scawy wawa and that mummah is here.
You noticed that Tangerine handed you the blue colt first. As you clean him, you noticed that she was guiding the poopy babbeh to her teats.
“Nu wowwy bwon babbeh, dwink wots o miwkies.”
The brown foal suckled and suckled just until Tangerines left teat began to deflate.
Byron bathed her purple filly and the poopy babbeh without incident, and got them situated in the bathtub, along with a litterbox.
He flipped the lights off when he left the bathroom, but the chorus of huuhuu’s and scawy dawkies prompted him to turn the lights back on.
You survey the damage in the spare bedroom. It would likely take a professional cleaning company to clean the carpets. There’s no way you can sell these fluffies as meat fluffies, and you dont feel like bathing them just to turn around and get a measly ten bucks for the let.
Luckily, the poop was still wet. Grinning to yourself, you get an idea.
“Ok herd, I will let you go and be free, but you must num all these poopies and lick the floor clean.”
All he heard in response was a chorus of raspberries. He would have fun disposing of the herd.
