With his plague mask still firmly on his head, Johnathon Crier was headed home after a night of fluffy extermination. The mob he was with had managed to make the bulk of the commercial district of his town into a fluffy graveyard. Sure the methods were a little extreme and cruel, but it wasn’t like fluffies were animals in the first place. Technically the worst they could be charged with was littering, but to do that the city would have to acknowledge that they were responsible for fluffy extermination costs in the alleyways.
In the end, it didn’t matter to Johnny. He was there for two reasons. The first was to get some fresh air and exercise. The second was to collect foals for his hobby. He had been making decent money live streaming killing fluffies recently. People who were to cowardly to torture them with their own hands needed to get their murder boners off after all. Fluffy foals were a second favorite of his viewers, the first being smarties, and the haul from the night time raids would be good for something special he was cooking up.
He decided to take a shortcut through an alleyway that wasn’t part of the earlier massacre on the way home. Despite no one having been through here this night, there was the distinct smell of rotting fluffy corpses. Fluffies rotted fast when they died, so the smell could be from a kill that was well under 24 hours old. Johnny decided to take a peak in the only over-turned box and found an empty nest littered with the bones of fluffies of various sizes. At least, he thought it was an empty nest at first. In the back, under a pile of bones, he noticed the telltale rising and falling of an animal breathing. Without a second thought, he reached in his gloved hand and pulled out a slightly terrified fluffy.
“Pwease mistah, wet fwuffy gu. Nu mean tu be munstah.” In the dim streetlight seeping into the alleyway, Johnny could make out that the fluffy was a mare with blackish brown fluff and a neon pink mane. Then there was the eyes. They were a dark purple with the telltale swirls that marked a cannibal.
Johnny’s mask hid his huge grin. A cannibal fluffy was a rare find, relatively speaking. Similar to alicorn fear, a fluffy mother would often kill one once they noticed their eyes. The difference is that they had usually bonded somewhat by the time the foal had opened its eyes. This led to a conflict where the mother would refuse to feed the child while it starved to death, but generally get angry and declare the foal belonged to her if someone tried to save it. Those that survived to adulthood tended to hold a grudge and would often kill their parents and siblings that were cruel to them.
He looked at the emaciated fluffy and sat her on the ground, “now don’t run away, I have some food for you.”
“W-weawwy?! Nice mistah hab nummies fow munstah?!” He nodded and pulled out a fat walky talky foal out of the sack and handed it to her? “This nu am nummies. This am babbeh.” Her voice sounded disappointed, but her stomach gurgling betrayed her true nature.
The tiny foal looked around and puffed up his light blue cheeks, “dummeh munstahs, gib bestes babbeh back tu mummah. Wan milwkies nao!” He fluttered his tiny wings in defiance as he looked at the cannibal mare.
“Weww, fwuffy guess one mowe nu huwt.” In an instant, she pounced on the foal and tore open his stomach.
“SCREEEE! NU HUWT BABBEH! AM ONWY WID-” His screams turned into wheezes as she punctured his lungs.
Johnny, watched the now silent macabre meal with an even dumber grin on his face. He had to have this mare for his shows. Sure there was a small risk she might hurt his alicorn, Felix, but it was worth the risk. “Well girl, how about you come home with me?”
“Nice mistah be fwuffies nyu daddeh?”
“Yes honey, I will be your new daddy.”
“Honey am namsies?! Tank ‘ou fow namsies daddeh!” Johnathon facepalmed himself at her accidental naming. He let out a little sigh before he beckoned her to follow him home. After a little training, she would make a great addition to his work.