Attack on Hugboxers - Who Let the Dogs Out? (By fwuffwax)

Fwuffwax · October 31, 2024, 3:52pm

As research on fluffy ponies has progressed, public understanding of the creatures has improved by leaps and bounds, making the bio-toy more polarizing than ever before. Fluffy advocates have been more active than ever, leading to fluffy rights movements gaining substantial steam, with many states increasing the protections afforded to fluffies under the law.

Abusers of every sort formed communities to organize efforts against fluffies and their advocates, sharing their exploits and plans of attack with others in the hopes of overturning these new protections and fighting back against the multicolored plague.

This is one such story.

“Daddeh, Daddeh, wook! It Dawling’s fwen Amb-bwo-see-ah!”, a pink and red Pegasus filly shouted excitedly to Matthew.
“Hello, mister Anders, Darling”, said a middle aged woman with her multicolored gold and glossy white maned, silver fluffed, diamond shaped speckled alicorn, speaking with a hint of attitude that Matt and the Filly were beneath her
“Nice to see you too, Mrs. Mcnulty. I see Ambrosia’s looking and beautiful as ever. How’d the last pageant go?”, Matt said, trying his best to convince the smug businesswoman that he cared.
“Second place! Those judges have no clue! Ambrosia is far more intelligent and charming than that British stallion! As if a 3 toned mane is enough to make up for his lackluster fluff patterns!” The woman huffed.
“I don’t see how she could lose.” Realizing he didn’t want to argue about fluffies with the smug woman, Matthew quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, it’s Darling’s birthday on Saturday. Here’s an invite”, he handed the offended looking woman an envelope. “There’ll be fun games, gifts for all the guests, and all the spaghetti a fluffy could eat!” He knew there was little chance of convincing most of these rich snobs to come to a fluffy’s birthday party, so he focused on letting the fluffy do the work.
Ambrosia’s star shaped irises shined as bright as could be at the word ‘spaghetti’. “Sketties? Mummuh, urm, sowwy, miss Mcnuwty, can come to pawty? Just for wittwe bit?”
“A quick minute to just stop by and say ‘hi’ would mean the world to Darling. She loves Ambrosia so much, and of course, you don’t need to stay for longer than it takes a fluffy to finish a plate of spaghetti.”
The woman narrowed her eyes, knowing that Matt knew that a fluffy will likely whine incessantly until it gets its sketties. “Alright, I suppose I could stop by for a bit”
“It means a lot, thanks so much!”
“Hm hmm” the woman said quickly pocketing the envelope in the jacket(that probably cost more than the average person’s car) pocket. “Ambrosia, come!” she said walking off.
“Yus, Miss Mcnuwty…” Ambrosia said giving Darling a goodby hug and trotting off.
“Alright, half the stack of invited. The park is gonna be packed with all your friends, Darling! It’ll be great- Oh, Mrs. Harris! Hello, oh, and Andrew and Andrea are here?” Matthew approached the family and their own personal herd.
There were no less than a dozen hideous fluffies on leashes, with at least 4 to each member of the family. The Harris matriarch was the biggest hugboxer on earth, Matthew was convinced of that. She had the money to hugbox the shit out of every last chance fluffy at the fluffmart and shelter, and employed multiple babysitters when the family was out. She couldn’t stand the thought of these fluffies, not earthy brown, but every color Matthew has flushed down the toilet in his life, being put down.
“Hello Mr Anders”… the miserable kids mumbled, not even looking up from their phones, no doubt reading abuse stories to ease the frustration of being forced to care for several of these babbling, stunted, retard horses.
“Well, the gangs all here, huh? Walnut, Cheatnut, almond, Peanut, uhhhh” Matt couldn’t remember all the names.
“Oh, Darling, you’re as adorable as ever, sweetie!” Mrs. Harris gushed, barely acknowledging Matt.
“Uh, She’s actually having a birthday party on Saturday. Paid a pretty penny to hold it here, too. There’ll be spaghetti, of course-“
“Of course we’ll come! The whole herd!” Matthew thought the hugboxer said, still not looking at Matt. At least that’s what he thought she said, he couldn’t hear the best over the nonstop babbling and squeeeing about “sketties!” from the herd of excrement colored equines and their loony owner.
“Gu by, Miss Hawwis!” Darling beamed.
The rest of the trip through the park had led them to elitists with their pedigree fluffies, hugboxers with their fluffy friends, and everything in between. Matthew was relieved to leave the park. He hated it there. The constant smell of feces, the occasional ‘end, enf, enf’ from bushes, and the ever present fluffy babyspeak. But he needed to get as many fluffies here at the same time as possible. The park was almost impenetrable, surrounded in a fence Matt found no holes in, and covered with a screen to keep out predatory birds, while only having one way in and out. This park was private, like a fluffy enthusiast club. It required monthly fees to be allowed access, but it would be worth the near year of payments and putting up with fluffies on Saturday.
Matt drove home to his estate. He and his friend Mike had made their fortune elsewhere, but his property was used to breed and train dogs of many breeds. He loved dogs, and it brought him decent revenue, but it wasn’t looking good. Ever since fluffies became available, less people were buying puppies. And now, since hugboxers(due to some douche bag social media influencer) have started a trend of adopting shelter fluffies to make their short, miserable lives a bit better, things were even worse. Matt dropped Darling off at the house and went to check the fluffy traps near the woods surrounding the property. They were live traps that allowed fluffies in, but not out. They had low quality spaghetti, specifically designed to last as long as possible, to lure them in. The part of their brain making them wary of traps was stamped out by their hunger and craving of ‘sketties’. It was a fairly large cage that could hold over a dozen fluffies. They were disguised as little doghouses, but for fluffies. Matt didn’t know how they fell for the trap, even so. The first was empty, with the spaghetti gone. He checked the trail cam he set up and saw a familiar fluffy. An orange fluffy with yellow tips and stripes and a red mane and tail, along with some large fluffies. He knew the orange one figured the traps out. But Matt didn’t mind. It gave him a cover. A way to explain the lack of live fluffy captures. The next was untouched, and the third had a herd in it. They were chattering and digging around, trying to get out.
A bright blue unicorn approached Matt as he hooked up the cage to the trailer hitched to his truck.
“N-nice mistah? P-pweaze wet hewd gu! Nu no wah do, buh heed am sowwy!”
“Can’t do that.” Matt replied, not looking away from the task at hand. “It’s the law, fluffies can’t just be rummaging around and causing trouble”
“Bu-bu hewd nu mean be twoubwe! Pwease nu gib hewd huwties! Am gud fwuffies!” The stallion said, letting out a little stream of scardey pee-pees.
“You won’t be hurt. Not by me, anyway. I’ve just gotta take you all to a shelter. Some of you should get adopted if you stay this polite” Matt said, still not looking at the fluffies.
“Bu-bu nu wan go tu shewtew! Nu wan be adopted! Wan stay togeta wi-“
Mat couldn’t hear the rest over the motor pulling the chained up trap onto his trailer. These fluffies weren’t too bad. Some of them would be all right, Matt thought. He drove to another empty trap, spaghetti gone, and only had one more left. The little orange fluffy was like a rival to the people in the area. Matt wasn’t the only one whose traps had been solved.
The next trap had a slightly larger herd in it. Matt walk up with the chain and hooked it up the the chain on his trunk. A fat, pink, unicorn stallion wattled up to him, cheeks puffed.
“Wet smawty ou’ ob sowwy cage NAO!” It bellowed at him.
“No, shut up” matt didn’t even look at him as he worked.
“Wan ou’ nao! Nao, nao, NAO!” The smarty ordered the herd to use sorry poopies, aiming at Matt, but mostly just shutting up the cage.
“Patience. I think you’ve convinced me to let you out. But I’ve gotta deal with the other herd too.” Matt said, pulling the cage onto the trailer with his chain. He pulled up to a large grassy area, with a barn like building surrounded by a fence. It was full of the pups he hadn’t found homes for yet. Not ready to breed, and Matt didn’t know if he’d have room if they could. They were well trained and excited to see him, lining up and sitting down, eager for the treat they would receive.
“Patience, guys, I got deal with the other herd” Matt said kicking the shit filled cage with the smarty herd in it off the trailer in front of the fenced in area.
Matt drove into town and dropped off the pen with the first herd in it at the shelter, making sure to mention the infamous orange fluffy swiping his sketti trap. The man working at the check in desk seemed like he couldn’t care less if you wiped out a herd or two, but it paid to be safe.
He drove home eagerly, knowing exactly what to do with the smarty herd.
As Matt pulled up the the enclosure full of dogs, he could see the smarty had lost his sense of arrogance. The herd was all piling over themselves trying to be as far away from the “bawky munstuhs” as possible. Many fluffies were covered in scaredy poopies, and several foals had been trampled. The smarty immediately put his toughest face on when he saw Matt
“Aww what’s the matter, though guy? You aren’t scared of some little puppy dogs, are you?”
“Sm-smarty my scawed! Bawky munstuhs jus’ woud!” The smarty blew a raspberry as the dogs barking and hoping around, eager to meet their new bio-toys.
“Well then, we have a volunteer! You see, I want to see if these dogs are well trained, and I need your help to find out if they’re “gud”.
Matt reached into the cage and grabbed the smarty by his scruff.
“Bad upsies! Pu’ smarty down, NAO!”
“You sure you want that?” Matt took several steps up to a platform that put him over the fence. He held the smarty over the enclosure, while he shit himself in fear.
“Nu gib to bawky munstuh! Smarty sowwy!”
The pink stallion started begging until he seemed to remember his herd was nearby. “‘Ou wisten to smawty, dummeh hoomin! Nao!
“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t put you in there.” Matt replied. He pulled on a clothes line until a meat hook made its way over to them, then turning on his camera to record the show.
Matt stuck the meat hook through the smarty’s scruff skin, and pulled on the line, carrying him to the middle of the open area in the dog pen. Of course, he screeched about “wowstes’ huwties” and made idle threats.
Matt commanded to dogs to stay, and they did. Then the command “Fluffy, sic ‘em” and the all chased the smarty down the clothes line barking and jumping trying to grab him, being just out of reach. The whole herd was freaking out as they saw their fearless idiot leader having a full blown panic attack.
“Speciaw fwen, nuuuuuuuuuu!” A purple mare with three foals on her back shouted. “Pwease, mistah, nu huwt smawty, hewd nee’ weadah!”
“Well then” Matt grabbed the mare in both hand and carried her up to the landing. “Better go save him!”
He plopped her down into the enclosure, and she began to literally lose her shit. He then tossed in her foals, whom she immediately put on her back. Had she been quiet, the dogs may not have noticed, but hearing the terrified, shrill, cry of a fluffy mare caught the attention of a few. The looked over and saw the purple fluff ball and immediately charged towards her.
“NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHUUUUUUUUHUUUUUUUHUUUUUUUUUUUU! Pwease, munstuhs, take babbehs and weabe mummuh!” She began to shake her back, causing her foals to lose their grip on her fluff. Boy did they scream.
“Mummuh nuuuuuuu! Nu weabe bestes’ babbeh! Weabe dummeh bwuddas and sissiEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE-“crunch. The mare didn’t even look back as her foals were swallowed nearly whole by the beasts. Seconds later, though, she faced the same fate, being ripped apart and eaten.
“Lovely bunch, these fluffies.” Matt mumbled. “What excuses for THAT will hugboxers come up with?” He shook his head. Dumb mare didn’t think twice about trying to use her foals as a distraction to get away. Not that any of them would have survived either way.
“HUU HUU HUUU NUUUUUUUUUUUUU! Bestes bebbeh and speciaw fwen nu am nummies! Huuuuuu wowstes heawt huwties huuuuuu…” the Marty on the meat hook sobbed.
“Now, let’s see, anymore volunteers?” Matt quickly scanned the cage, watching the fluffies scramble over each other to get away, trampling a few foals in the process. Growing bored, Matt just reached in and grabbed them? One after another. After the fifth was dropped in, Matt commanded the dogs to stop, but they ignored him in favor of their prey. Repeated attempts to call them off failed as well.
“Perfect” Matt said looking at the terrified fluffies, about 10 or so, left in the cage. “I’ll use you for training purposes later, so don’t worry. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a fluffy with a birthday coming up, and I need to prepare.”
“B-buh if mistah hab fwuffy fwen, den why am so meany” a bold stallion asked.
“Darling is far better behaved than even the best of you.” Matt said calmly. “And because fuck you, that’s why”
Matt strolled over to his truck and hopped in, reaching under the passenger seat to pull out a metal lunch box. He opened it and unwrapped a small flip phone from a tinfoil wrapper.
He opened the contacts and only one number was saved.
“It’s ready, please confirm”
It would be a few hours later, checking his phone, when he would received a single word text
“Confirmed”

Saturday, 2:45 pm private fluffy park
The spaghetti, bouncy house, and plenty of balls and blocks were out all about the pavilion Matthew had reserved. He stopped counting fluffies pretty quickly, since there were so many. No doubt, their owners would never hear the end of it if they missed an all you can eat sketti buffet.
Several guests were setting presents on a table, getting plates of food for themselves and their fluffies, and allowing their pets to run around and play to their hearts content.
Matthew’s mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t remember a single conversation he had as the guests arrived. He was focused on the party. Darling was ecstatic at all the friends and was rambling on to him about “bigges heawt happies”, and “wub fwens”. By 3:15 the pavilion was full of happy fluffies and owners ranging from having equal fun to being bored and wanting to leave. Matt paid little mind to the drone flying overhead. He had his phone out recording everything he could. Suddenly, a scream broke the happy babble.
“SCKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE NUUUUUUUUUUU BAWKY MUNSTUH, WET WUBY GUUUUU!”
Barking and howling was drawing closer and closer. Matt looked in the direction of the gate and saw over 2 dozen dogs, several with fluffies in their mouths, bounding at high speed towards the party.
The panic was immediate. Many of the smarter fluffies ran to their human caretakers for safety, but several of the dumber individuals ran off in various directions, causing the pack of dogs to split up and hunt down their prey.
Matt recorded all he could. The sounds of begging and pleading fluffies, terrified screams, and humans yelling at the dogs were coming from every direction. Several people had their fluffies pulled from their arms, the dogs being able to jump high enough to get them, while others just lost a leg. One particularly hilarious case involved a rather petite woman, stretching as high as she could to keep her fluffy out of the dogs reach.
“Mummuh! Save Cwanberry! Huuuuuuu su scawdies!”
The woman look I led up to her fluffy to say something to calm the creature down, and as she did, the terrified fluffy let out a stream of scardy poopies, the more solid bits plopping down on the woman’s face, with her mouth open to take some in.
The woman collapsed and began vomiting, unable to stand. The dogs had caught the fluffy in their jaws before she even hit the ground, and was ripped apart. The woman tried to scream in between dry heaves, but it was too late.
“Daddeh! Daddeh! Huuuuuuu badly munstuh huwt fwens! Wa du?” Before Matt could respond, a German Sheppard bolted up and grabbed the filly by her scruff and began shaking. The scaredy poopies spraying everywhere like a sprinkler.
“DADDEHHHHHHHH! HUUUUU HUUUUU HUUUU SABE DAWING!”
Matt just recorded, stone faced. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have a little affection for her, and given the choice, she’d survive this, but this was her purpose from the start. As he ran up to the dog, Matt reached for the fluffy, only for the dog to bolt, the screams of the fluffy he’d raised fading into the cacophony of screams.
Matt began to make his way to the gate. The gate was crowded with people trying to get out, and more dogs began hounding the panicked group by the second, snatching fluffy after fluffy. The Harris family and their ugly herd were trying to force their way through, but the large cage blocked them in, and was chained to the gate, blocking the only way out. The Harris children began tossing fluffy after fluffy away to disperse the dogs, to the horror of their mother who began screaming at them, dropping several squirming fluffies in the process. Mrs. McNulty was assaulting a pair of golden retrievers with her purse attempting to drive them away from what Matt was sure was left of Ambrosia.
The smell of blood and feces was oppressive. The police had arrived about 15 minutes after the dogs had overrun the park, but the dogs were too many, and the vets inspecting them when animal control rounded them up estimated they’d not eaten in almost 5 days.
A few hours later, the police had collected a statement from everyone. After a count, 113 fluffies had died, 22 had been maimed or seriously injured, and 4 had minor wounds and were checked out of the vet’s office same day. The news had reported it immediately. Many of the wealthy fluffy owners were determined to find the culprit, and were throwing what money they had towards PIs and rewards for info. Needless to say, the fluffy community was pissed.
Earlier that day
Mike had received the confirmation text on his burner phone. It was finally ready.
He had been diagnosed with terminal cancer 3 years ago, and was reaching the end of his life expectancy, and wondered if Matt would have everything ready before he expired. He hated fluffies after an incident with his daughter and her now dead puppy 6 years ago, and was pissed there was a chance they’d receive more rights than dogs. But that’s another story. He had work to do. He had put a cheap, washable paint on his truck, changed the tires, put on fake license plates, and put temporary tinting on the windows. He drove to Matt’s estate and hooked up a trailer with the dozens of dogs in it.
“Dummeh sicky hooman! Wet fwuffy go NAO!”
“Sure, fine.” Mike tossed the stupid creature in and the dogs went ballistic, reducing the fluffy to blood smears before it could even skree.
Mike laughed weakly and got moving. He drove up to the fluffy park right on time, and got out of his car. He went up to the guard shack and sneakily wrapped a chain around it. He walked back to the truck, the guard watching some stupid FluffTube video on his phone, and didn’t notice. He back the truck up HARD, and bashed the gate open. Getting out, Mike chained up the damaged gate to the kennel to secure them both in place and prevent escape while the guard desperately tried to escape. Opening the kennel, Mike smirked under his mask and hopped in his truck driving off. He pulled into an empty ally and got out his drone, surveying the carnage being unleashed. After it was over, he brought the drone back and hustled back to his house, and together with his son, his oldest child, changed the tires, removed the temporary paint and window tint, and put the original plates on. This all happened within 45 minutes. He’d meet up with Matt later and watch his videos from the inside.
Mike checked his burner phone.

           They’re pissed. They’ll be looking for you

I won’t live to see the inside of a jail cell I give 0 fucks lol