Another day in Marrakesh (By Jackie22)

The snow fell gently in the northern town of Marrakesh, Montana. A far cry from the terrible blizzard that had raged the night before. The unfittingly named town was home to many strange things, including a group of nominally intelligent talking horses.

“Fank ou fow gif nummies nice mistah!” Said a green monochrome fluffy. A handful of other fluffies around him echoed the sentiment. From the snow, more fluffies appeared, peeking out from the snowdrifts, a large group of fluffies began to emerge from the wooden crates they had found there just a day before.

“Dis nice mistah? Nu huwt fwuffies?” One of the new ones asked.

“Yus! Nice mistah gif bestest kibbwe nummies!” Said the green fluffy.

More and more fluffies began to surround the human, all pleading for food. The winter had been harsh, and the meager shelters had been a small comfort in the freezing weather. The whole herd was lean from lack of food, and desperate for sustenance, else they would never have gambled an approach on a strange human. Still, their hunger-fueled courage seems to have rewarded them, as the human had brought a ready supply of kibble to feed the whole herd.

“That’s right, I have plenty! Go ahead and eat up, all of you! You must be really hungry!”

“Yay! Nummies! Fank ou nice mistah!” Cheered the fluffies, as the human laid out a few trays and dumped the kibble on top.

The fluffies gorged themselves on the free food, their long hunger finally coming to an end as they greedily consumed the kibble. More and more fluffies were coming to surround the human, and soon there were dozens eating. Laughing and playing and hugging and even dancing, a fluffy might think that the cold times were already over! But it was not to last…

“W- Wha dummeh fwuffies doin!?” Yelled the newest fluffy. A few other fluffies flanked it. Beside him but also behind him at the same time. It must have been a smarty.

“Nice mistah come an gif nummies! Mistah say he bwing nuff nummies fow howe hewd!” One fluffy replied.

“Wuv nice mistah!” Another fluffy added.

“Ou come out of hidey-pwace fow hoomin kibbwe!? Hoomins nu gif big nummies tu fwuffies anymowe! Onwy hoomins wif wots of nummies awe munstah hoomins! Nummies gif foevah sweepies!”

The herd stopped. All playing and dancing stopped. With growing expressions of horror, they began to realize the true danger of their reckless decision. They had never even considered the possibility of hurtie nummies! Panic began to spread through their ranks. Most of the fluffies had already eaten! Stallions and mummahs and even babbehs had partaken of the freely given food. One by one, their gazes turned to the human. All struck dumb.

“Hahahaha! How silly! Why would I bring poisoned kibble out to a bunch of random fluffies? I’m not a monster.” The human said.

“I just saw you guys out in your dens, and I thought that you must be really hungry, so I went by the pet store and bought a bag of kibble.” He points to a box on the ground. Indeed, it had a blue bag inside that contained kibble. The human began to scratch the head of a nearby fluffy.

“I wouldn’t hurt you little guys.” He said. The fluffy cooed under his caress, smiling contentedly as he scratched under it’s neck.

The other fluffies seemed to buy the story. Their fears now eased, they once again began to hug and play and do all the things that fluffies did.

The smarty was different. He had been around a long time, and he knew how things went. All together, things had been going really well. The herd was desperate for shelter, and all of the sudden, a bunch of boxes had appeared in the field. The herd was hungry, and all of the sudden, a human with a huge amount of nummies just came by and gave them all free food. Things were going so well that it was unbelievable.

As in, he didn’t believe it. At all. Something was wrong. Things were going too well. His little fluffy mind couldn’t comprehend the nature of these events, but his long honed instincts told him that this was unnatural and dangerous.

“Wan nummies…” Said one of the toughies, as he lurched forwards and began eating the kibble.

“NU! Nu num kibbwe! Dat bad nummies!” Yelled the smarty. But it was useless. His toughies all began to partake. Soon it was only him, standing alone as the whole herd ate and hugged and played without him.

“Dis aww wong…” Muttered the smarty, backing away. Fear grew in his heart. “Huu…”

“Are you sure you don’t want any food there buddy? There’s still some left!” Said the human.

The smarty began walking backwards in earnest. His own hunger gnawed at him, but his fear was much greater. If the nummies were safe, then great, but if they weren’t…

The truth would soon be revealed.

“Well, I’m glad you all decided to come out and eat.” Said the human, stroking the head of a mare feeding her foals.

“Fank ou fow gif nummies nice mistah! Ou sabe babbehs! Wub nice mistah!” Said the mare.

“Peep! Wub nice mistah!” Said one of her foals.

“That’s great you guys, but you know, you should really listen to your smarty. He may have been really cautious, but I think he’s got a good head on his shoulders. For a fluffy anyways. A smart person wouldn’t even come out here if we’re being honest…”

“Meanie smawty nebbah wet fwuffies du wha fwuffies wan! Awways teww fwuffies tu wook fow nummies! Ow tu be qwiet! Ow tu hide fwom hoomins! Nu wike!” Said one of the fluffies.

The smarty said nothing. The fluffy’s ungrateful words cut, but the smarty was too afraid for the lives of his friends to retort. He had already decided that the food was poison, and was alternating between choices. Run away now and maybe save his own life, or stay with his herd and maybe save a few of them if the human does nothing but leave after poisoning them. Both were unpalatable. He just wanted to protect his herd. He had worked so hard. Why was this happening?

“Maybe… Hoomin be nyu daddeh fow fwuffies?” One of the fluffies asked. The herd looked at him hopefully…

“Ohohoho, oh no. I can’t take in a bunch of stray fluffies! I only came out to take your babies!”


“I want your babbehs. All of them. So that I can give them new homes you see.”

The herd stopped again. They were all talking amongst themselves. The human might give them a new home, but the mothers still didn’t want to part with their foals. Discussion continued for a bit, but was soon interrupted by the human.

“I only want the young ones. The ones that haven’t opened their eyes yet. Those are the only ones I can take.”

The herd was silent once more. The new condition was even more harsh. And significantly less appealing. Soon, one of the mares stepped forwards.

“Buh… Mistah… Chiwpy babbehs tu widdwe! Nee’ stay wif mummah an gwow big an stwong!”

“Oh no, that’s okay, I have mummahs that will feed them instead.”

“Nu! Mah babbehs! Nu take!” Yelled a mare in the crowd.

“Babbehs tuu widdwe! Nee’ mummah!”

“Why take widdwe babbehs!? Am gud mummah! Nu take babbehs!”

“There are no good fluffy ‘mummahs’. You’re a bunch of bumbling technicolor idiots. How are you going to raise a child? The milkbags will do a better job than you ever could.” The human said flatly. He was changing before their very eyes…

“No chance of infanticide either.” He added.


The smarty was motionless. His worst fears were being realized…

“Well, you know what, I’m not going to take them from you by force. If you don’t want to give me your foals, I won’t make you. I don’t like violence.”

He saw one of the fluffies in the back, eyes closed, clenching it’s teeth. A smile crossed his face.

“But I do like watching fluffies die. That’s why I’m going to kill every fluffy in this herd.”

The herd froze for a final time. As they realized all too late that their smarty was right, a fluffy in the back of the herd began gurgling and choking. Stammering and shitting, it fell to the ground in spasms. Soon, it was dead. The entire herd burst into panic. Screams and shit filled the air as dozens of fluffies ran and fell and trampled each other in abject terror, staining the white snow brown and red.

More fluffies fell, increasing the panic of the still living ones.





The screams of the herd reached a crescendo, then finally began to peter off. The human and the smarty watched the herd run around in terror, slowly dying of the poison they had foolishly ingested. The living fluffies quickly began to dwindle as the poison did it’s horrible work, consigning each and every fluffy to a painful death. Soon, only the human and the smarty were left.

“Easy as shit.” Said the human, as he picked up the box and began loading the fresh orphans up.

“W- Why?”


“Why huwt hewd?” said the smarty, trembling, tears streaming down his face. Fear, anger and grief mixed inside his chest as he watched the human casually kidnapping the babbehs after murdering the entire herd.

“It’s easier. Much less screaming, no escapees, and far less chance of some lurid little dumbass shitting on me.” He picked up the last chirpie.

“Buh- Buh why huwt fwuffies!? Why gif mummahs an babbehs foevah sweepies!? Why take babbehs 'way!? Why!?”

“Ugh. If you must know, I’m working on a little project. I need to raise a ton of smarties. For that, I’ll need a breeding population. One with no memory of feral life. The chirpies are the main ingredient. The other fluffies were just… in the way.”

The smarty stood stock still, frozen in place, as if he were one of the fluffies that the cold gave forever sleepies to.


“Oh please.”


“Yeah whatever.”


“The world doesn’t work like that shitrat. You need to fight if you want to live. Even then you might die. Being a ‘gud fwuffy’ doesn’t count for shit.”

“If you can’t handle that…”

The human threw the bag of poisoned kibble in front of Terry.

“Finish that for me at least. I don’t like littering.”

The human disappeared. Terry dropped into the snow, not feeling its cold in the least. He screamed and screamed and cried and cried as a car sped away in the distance. Devastated and alone, He cried in the middle of the field, surrounded by the silent dead.

Just another day.


Here, some characterization for Terry. Still working on the next soylent, gonna finish that before I go back to alleycam and sunset roads. Here’s a little line from the next one, if you were disappointed that this wasn’t it:

You suddenly squeeze at full power. You hear the shattered leg bones crunch as she screams louder than ever.

“I don’t care what your god damned problem is. Shut the fuck up, sit the fuck still, and don’t give me any more trouble or I’ll pull your fucking eyes out. Got it?”

The mare cries silently, her eyes still pleading. Voice still speaking. The wrong look. The wrong words. You grab both legs as she tries to scream in terror. You death grip both front legs, eliciting a scream so loud that the foals take notice even with the tube and muzzle muffling the sound. All they see however, is you holding the leggies of one of the mummahs. They don’t seem to notice the unnatural angle that those legs are bending at.

Got it?

The mare nods. Then sinks down, defeated. Her eyes are just like those of the other mares. Pained and lifeless. Empty of everything but tears. Maybe now she’ll make some fucking milk.


Poison is all well & good, but a tad unpredictable, &, worse, expensive. An old cricket bat & some rubber wellies, you can rely on.

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I was actually thinking about that when I wrote this. Yeah, the old fire and sword approach is a classic, but you would have to chase them all down, and getting your head crushed with a cricket bat is way less painful than disgorging your insides and dying in the mud wracked with spasms and twisted in agony. Poison’s just the easier way. And if they somehow survive it, even better. They can freeze to death.


You don’t gotta apologize for exploring other stuff man, write what you feel like. Now onto this story, I feel like poison is a reasonable way to cull fluffy populations but it is bit blase. I did like that the smarty wasn’t just stupid and could see where it was going even if there was nothing he could do about it. I’m of two minds on things like this:

  1. Stories like this with predictable plot lines that executed well with a flush of specific details like a smarty that’s reasonably smart are quite enjoyable and I think there’s a good runway to explore stuff like this.

  2. That being said this site is fairly flushed with these sort of articles and unless there’s really a character with whom the suffering can be tied to, one whose feelings of fear and anger can mature into something interesting I feel as if it’s essentially writing the equivalent of white noise. Ultimately I think there’s new ways to explore the culling of fluffies that can go beyond the simple and honestly banal smashing of fluffies or simple poisoning. I’ll not try to overstep myself here but have you given though to new creative ways a scientist may choose to cull fluffies? Robots, a trap alternative to those foal for sketti machines like fluffies shaped bombs or foal sound traps that lure fluffies into dangerous environments that kill them, fur eating bacteria that causes a herd to lose their fur and freeze to death, prion disease that causes fluffies to slowly loose their minds, or something of the sort. I can’t say any of the ideas I’ve offered are any good but perhaps it’s something to explore. Obviously could also just write a new series with a central fluffy character whose suffering you can explore as well.

I hope this wasn’t entirely unhelpful


Oh no, this is great, thanks. I was thinking about where the smarties would end up going. Terry is a fluffy that appeared in alleycam, I’ll probably flesh him out a bit later, but as for new ways of killing fluffies, I was thinking about some abusers training the local animals to prey on fluffies, like stray cats or dogs, or birds. I don’t think that there’s enough attention on predators killing fluffies, particularly birds. The way that mares carry their foals is basically like laying out a dinner plate for a bird of prey, and an abuse would only have to train a few of them for the practice to catch on with the whole flock. Then those birds would teach it to other birds when they joined new flocks, and the entire continent can soon be filled with murderous birds, just another way for fluffy life to get even worse.

As for poisoning being done before, I think that’s more of an issue of poisoning not being explored properly. It’s so much more than “blearg, im dead.” Poisons can cause liver failure, hair loss, terrifying hallucinations, intestinal blockage, internal bleeding, severe cramping. They can kill immediately or over the course of months, sometimes from a single dose. They can drive a fluffy completely insane. It’s really a dimension of abuse all it’s own, but I don’t know enough about poison to really get into it, and I think that’s a pretty common thing here.

I mentioned dropping off 50 pillowed smarties at a no kill shelter to someone one time, since the massive strain on the shelter would lead to a huge decline in quality of life for the fluffies living there, and more fluffy suffering overall, but they weren’t interested, and so I decided to do it myself at some point. This might be the prologue to a smarty breeding program that would eventually culminate in the fluffy-based harassment that certain no-kill shelters may have to deal with in the future, but I have to finish soylent brown first. Thanks for telling me your thoughts.


Damn, that was cold

Loved it

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