Afghanistan - By Hornlarry (Booru ID 39590)

Lolly was squashed up against the side of the hot, cramped and dark sorry box, trying to keep away from the two dozen or so other fluffies that were scrabbling around inside it. She had been half trampled and almost crushed to death earlier, but now she had her spot and was sticking to it. The other fluffies were just as scared and confused as she was, and the box stank of excrement and urine soaked fluff. She had no idea where they were going.

A day earlier, and man wearing strange not-fluff had turned up to her shelter, offering to buy all the fluffies. At first, the fluffies had been overjoyed, thinking that they would be going to new homes, with new mummahs and new daddahs, but then they had been hurled into sorry boxes with dozens of other fluffies, and loaded onto the backs of large metal vroom monsters. Lolly had been terrified, but tried to keep quiet.

“Babbehs! Where am babbehs?” the yellow mare cried again. The babies had become separated from her some hours ago, and were chirping pitifully from another part of the box. At first the chirping had been loud and fearful, but now it was pitiful, and was happening less and less.

“Whewe babbehs?” the mare asked, starting to cry, “Babbehs need mummah… huu huu huu…”

“Shut up dummeh mawe!” yelled another fluffy, but the mother kept on weeping.

Lolly hoped that they would reach their new home soon, but the vroom munstah just kept on growling.


Lolly woke up. The vroom monster had stopped growling, and there were sounds of hoomins and lots of other fluffies.

Suddenly, the sorry box lid was taken off, and fresh air rushed into the box. Lolly had never felt more happy at simply being able to breath.

“Get these fluffies out of the Igloo and on to the Big Ugly Fucker double-time,” A loud hoomin voice said.

Lolly looked up, seeing another hoomin in green not-fluff, like the man at the shelter.

“Be nyu daddah?” a fluffy asked

“Fwuffy hungy! Need nummies!” said another

“Pwease daddah! Nu wiki pooping in sowwy bawks! Pwease wet out!”

Lolly kept quiet. She knew that not all hoomins were good mummahs or daddahs. The shelter had been much better than her home, but now she was scared.

“Come on you ground pounders! Move your asses! We’ve got four more trucks to unload by 18:00.”

Lolly squeaked in fear as the two hoomins dragged their box off the metal munstah’s back and onto a different, yellow metal monster. Then it growled, or rather whined, and carried them towards an even bigger dark green metal munstah! Lolly could see it towering above them from the now open topped sorry box. A green pegasus sitting near to Lolly looked up and gasped with delight.

“Tinkabeww know wat dat is! Dat am nu munstah! Dat am Aiwpwane! Fwuffy am gonna FWY! FOW WEALSIES!”

Lolly didn’t know what an Airplane was, but she didn’t like the idea of flying. The pegasus did though, and even though their sorry box was still cramped and stinking of urine and shit, the pegasus was now excited.


The yellow munstah whined again, and Lolly’s sorry box rose up into the air. They were going inside the green airplane munstah’s poopie place! There were hoomins in there too, and suddenly Lolly could hear and smell the presence of a huge number of fluffies.

“Yay! Fwuffy am gonna FWY!” the pegasus cheeped with excitement, before their whole world turned crazy.

Suddenly, the hoomins tipped the sorry box over on its side, and Lolly, the pegasus and every other fluffy, along with piles of poop and a puddle of peepee tumbled out of the box, and into a massive pen, full to bursting with other fluffies.

“Aiiieee!” Lolly cried, tumbling head over heel and landing, fortunately on top of another fluffy. The pegasus landed on top of Lolly, and a puddle of piss soaked them both wet through. The pen was full of… more fluffies than Lolly had ever even imagined there could be. There were… just too many to count. Lolly tried to get off of the fluffy she had landed on, but couldn’t see the floor of the pen. In fact, underneath the red fluffy she had landed on, there were other fluffies. Looking downwards, Lolly wasn’t sure where the pile of fluffies ended and the floor began. All of them were soaked or covered in scaredy poopies, and all of them were crying, begging to be let out, or screaming with pain.

“OW! Get off fwuffy head! Am huwty BAD!” cried one fluffy

“Pwease nice mistah daddah! Nu mowe fwuffies! Am too many!” said another

“AAAAIIEE! Weggy huwty! Nu sposed to bend wike dat!” screamed another

“Babbehs! Pwease find babbehs!” begged the yellow mare from Lolly’s box.

Lolly looked around herself, trying to make sense of her surroundings. There were fluffies everywhere, all crying in fear or pain, covered in their own shit, and desperately trying to keep on top of the fluffies below them. Lolly gasped as a fluffy managed to scrabble its way out from underneath several other fluffies, only to be dragged back down again. Below her, below below, she heard a fluffy begging for help, saying it was hard to breathe. To her left, two babies cried for their mummah, but were ignored by the yellow mare, looking for her own babies. To her right, two stallions were forcing another mare to give them special huggies, enfing her from both ends while she screamed and struggled.

It was hell.

Lolly looked up just in time to see another box of fluffies being poured into the pen. A second later she was submerged in a pile of kicking and screaming fluffies, followed by several dozen lumps of turd.


“That’s the last of the last of them Major,” the groundsman was saying, “Seventy thousand pounds, including all their shit and piss. I’m sure glad I don’t have to clean her after your mission.”

“Good job sergeant,” the Major replied. “The Taliban won’t know what hit them.”


“Wisten up dummah fwuffies!” Lolly heard a stallion fluffy speaking, but it was through one of the speaker machines, like the TeeVee has, to make sounds louder.

“Dis am SMAWTY PWANE. Smawty name am Commandew Wingyboo, an fwuffy am mascot fow da bombew. Yu am aww dummah poopie fwuffies, an every fluffy am going to Afghanistan!”

“Afghanistan?” said the Pegasus, who Lolly was clinging to, desperate not to be submerged by the sea of struggling fluffies all around her, “Dat sound like nice pwace! Fwuffy am going on VACASHUN. Dat was Aiwpwanes am fow!”

Lolly just clung onto her, and pooped herself with fear, feeling sorry for the fat blue mare underneath her, and for the even greater number of fluffies underneath the mare. Then, the airplane munstah started growling.

“DATS WIGHT DUMMAH FWUFFIES! WE AM GOING TO AFGHANISTAN!” the fluffy voice continued, “AN DEWE GONNA BE A BIG SUWPWISE WHEN YU GET DEWE!”


“PIG DNA? What the actual fuck?” the journalist swore over the cabin radio headset, cutting through the roar of the engines.

“That’s right,” explained the pilot, “Government scientist say they’re at least 20% pig DNA. Along with pony, monkey, duck and parrot DNA. Plus a whole heap of other stuff.”

“…and the point of the pig DNA is?”

“Those Taliban fuckers think that if they get pig’s blood on them, they won’t go to heaven after they die. We thought about dropping actual pigs on them, or pork at least, but it turns out that fluffies are way cheaper. Plus, airforce reckons that about 0.5% of the fluffies will actually survive! Isn’t that crazy! They get cushioned from the impact by the pile of fluffy corpses. A full payload of these fuckers will flatten half a village just from the weight!”

“That’s…” the journalist started, “Thats completely fucking insane!”

“Yup!” the pilot admitted, “That’s why I love flying B52s!”


The big green airplane munstah kept on growling. Lolly had no idea how long it had been going on for, but her tummy had the worstest owwies, and her mouth was so dry she had difficulty swallowing. She needed nummies and water really badly. The pegasus had gone a long time ago. A big red stallion had climbed out from under several other fluffies, and pushed her underneath him, kicking other fluffies out of the way. Lolly had heard the pegasus crying, and seen one of her wings snapped by the other fluffies, hanging on by a flap of skin. Lolly had heard her cry for a couple of hours, but it was hard to tell over the din of the munstah’s growling belly.

Suddenly, the munstah’s poopie place opened up! fresh air and the big blue sky place opened up behind them, and Lolly looked outside in fear. Then something awful happened, the pen, or rather pens that the fluffies were in started moving towards the munstah’s poopie place! It was going to poop them out! While it was flying!

Lolly looked on in horror as the first cage tipped out of the back of the munstah’s poopie place One moment it was there, and another moment it was simply gone. The next cage disappeared too, and this time, Lolly swore she could hear the fluffies screaming over the roar of the wind and the munstah’s growling. The next cage was her’s.

Lolly felt the air rushing all around her, and suddenly she was falling! Falling, falling, falling, into the deep blue empty sky place! All around her, other fluffies were falling too, along with streams of piss and lumps of poop. Lolly screamed, but her voice was lost in the wind. Other fluffies were screaming and crying too. Lolly closed her eyes and tried to hide, placing her hoofies over them, but it was no good, the wind didn’t stop, and she didn’t stop falling. The sky was huge and terrifying, and Lolly saw… oh no… the GROUND was racing up to meet them! The ground! The GROUND!


“Direct hit Major! Good job!” Air force command was saying over the radio. “Our drones are showing a direct hit! We’ll follow it up with hellfire strikes if any high value targets start moving in the area, but the HQ is flattened, along with several farm buildings and nearby structures, and four pickups. They’ll probably abandon the outpost entirely.”

“Glad it worked command,” the Major replied, “Our Fox News journalist will have a good story to tell.”


Lolly groaned. Her legs were a raging fire of pain, snapped in half, bones sticking out, and bent at wrong angles or hanging on by scraps of flesh and twisted tendons. Lolly wished she didn’t even have legs. Her ribs were pounding with pain too, as several of them had snapped under the impact. Her mouth was bleeding, and she felt like she had bitten off part of her tongue.

All around her were dead fluffies. All of them. Hundreds, or thousands, not that she could count that high. The metal airplane munstah had pooped them out, and they had landed on some hoomin houses, caving in the roofs by sheer weight of numbers. All the fluffies were dead, she thought, but then she heard a few more cries.

“Uuuughhh… owwwies… wowstest owwies… pwease hewp fwuffy…” one groaned.

“WEGGIES! WEGGIES BAD!!! OWWWWIEES!!! OWIEEESS!!!” another cried.

“Screee! Screeeeee! SCREEEEEE!!!” Another screamed.

“Mummah? Mummah?” a lost baby was asking, miraculously unharmed.


Aasif looked on in horror! The American’s had unleashed hell on his village. But now, instead of bombs, they were dropping thousands of the ungodly hell monsters on them! These things were an abomination, made by science rather than god, and deserved to die! Aasif had no idea how many of his family might still be alive under the rubble and fluffy corpses. He grabbed a shovel and started digging, hefting corpses out of the way again and again, ignoring the occasional scream as a living, or half living fluffy begged him for help.

Soon, it became apparent that it would take hours. How many of the damn things had the Americans dropped on them? Aasif dug and dug and dug some more. Even though several other villagers were helping him now, he had no idea how long it would take to move them all to try and rescue his family, if they even still lived. He wanted to cry and rage and tear out his hair at the injustice of it all. Why had they done this? How dare they do this to them!

Just then, he heard a fluffy, crying and begging in its stupid baby voice.

“P-pwease…” it croaked, “pwease hewp fwuffy… wegs huwtie.”

Aasif looked over at the wounded fluffy. Its legs were broken, smashed beyond repair, and it was looking up to him, begging for his help.

“Pwease…” it said again, “Be nyu daddah?”

Something snapped inside Aasif, and he brought the shovel down on the fluffy’s head as hard as he possibly could, again and again and again, until it was nothing but a pile of pulped flesh and crushed bones on the dusty roadside.


Link to Index of Hornlarry Stories

18 Likes

I was very confident they would be minesweepers.

I was very wrong.

6 Likes

I’m reasonably certain this is a war crime.

3 Likes

time for your fluff flattening

So me in the rules where it says “no fluffies”!

There ARE rules on bioweapons though.

3 Likes

I prefer to classify it as a “high risk calvary charge”.

4 Likes

Congratulations @I_might_be_weasel you have won the internet with that line. Fuckin’ brilliant!

4 Likes

Intentional spreading of disease is, and this has to count.

4 Likes

Seems like it would be hard to prove, though. If the disease is just a byproduct of corpses.

1 Like

:joy: :rofl:

2 Likes

I called the UN. They said it’s a war crime.

1 Like

Hello. And thank you for calling the United Nations. To talk about hypothetical science fiction situations, press one. To accuse us of being the antichrist, press two. For all other inquiries, press three.

1 Like

But they did say it’s fine to create fluffies as long as you don’t use them as weapons or launch them into space.

1 Like

Poor Aasif…