Basement Breeder part 3, by Swindle

You’re a nameless fluffy stallion. And you finally have hope! You and Shit Fiesta are working on the latch to another cage, and you’re all going to escape and-

“What the fuck? How did you shitrats get out?!”

The sinking feeling in your tummeh almost makes you make sickie wawas. You slowly turn your head to look and the bad munsta man is standing at the top of the stairs, giving you a mean look.

You scream and run to hide, but there’s nowhere to hide. You end up squeezing behind the poopies bucket and covering your eyes.

You hear Shit Fiesta scream too, but not a scared scream; it’s an angry scream.

“Seriously? You have got some serious fucking balls trying to attack me, pissant. TOO BAD YOU NEVER FUCKING USE THEM LIKE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO!”


You shudder and whimper, hoping the munsta doesn’t find you.

He does. He yanks you into the air by your tail and you scream in terror. He throws you on the table next to Shit Fiesta.

“I think you little punks need to learn who’s in charge here. I’ve been going too easy on you. Mmkay. You don’t wanna fuck that mare, Shit Fiesta? That’s cool. I guess you’re not a real stallion then. And since you’re not a stallion, I guess that means you’re a mare, huh?”

“Shit Fiesta nu am mawe! Stupi!”

The munsta grabs you by the neck and you squeal in fright, making scaredy peepees. You don’t want to be hurt! Not again!

“You at least do what you’re told, if I give you the right motivation. So tell you what, I’ll give you a choice: either I can cut off your legs just like the mares…” He emphasises this by snip-snipping the weggies-taker.

“… or you can fuck this mare.”

Confused, you look around the table, then back to him.

“Whewe mawe?”

“Right here, dumbass.”

Shit Fiesta? That’s silly! He’s a stallion. The munsta must be confused. Maybe if you explain…?

“Dat nu mawe, dat stawwion!”


“So you don’t want your legs then?”

You shake in terror, an awful feeling settling in your gut.

“N-nu! Pwease! Nu take weggies!”

“Then fuck that mare.”

“Bu… dat nu mawe!”

“All right, guess you don’t want your legs then.”

He reaches out to grab you and you scream and mount Shit Fiesta like a mare.

You are such a coward.

You’re a fluffy breeder. Sort of. You’re trying to be, anyway. Right now you need to deal with a discipline problem.

The stallion that got loose is humping at Shit Fiesta’s ass, sobbing uncontrollably and whining unintelligible apologies interspersed with those stupid “enf” noises. Shit Fiesta is losing his shit.


“Well, Shit Fiesta, stallions fuck mares when they’re told to. And since you won’t fuck that mare like I tell you, then you must not be a stallion. And if you’re not a stallion, then that makes you a mare. And mares get fucked. Comprende?”

The sobbing stallion grunts, pulls out, pukes all over Shit Fiesta, then tries to hug him. Nuh-uh, none of that. You grab him and toss him in his cage again and the stallion bashes his head against the door, screaming that he’s sorry. You grab a jalapeno, cut slits in it so the juices flow, and return to shove it up the stallion’s ass.

“That’s for leaving your cage.”

Shit Fiesta is laying on his side, staring off into space, his friend’s jizz leaking from his abused asshole and puke clotting his fluff. You open the pink filly’s cage, formerly Shit Fiesta’s, and toss her on the table. She starts screaming insults at you until you beat the shit out of her with your belt. Surprisingly, after a dozen whacks or so, Shit Fiesta gets up and dives on top of the little pink mare, shielding her with his body. You hit him a few times, then yank him off of her.

“So… You gonna get busy with pinkie slut over here, or am I gonna have to get another stallion to bust a nut in your ass? You wanna be a mare, or a stallion? Your call.”

You can see it in his eyes. The moment when it happens.

The moment he’s broken inside.

Shit Fiesta hugs the mare, whispers that he’s sorry, and mounts her. He begins moving his hips but there’s no ‘enf’ noise.

“What the hell? You’re not even inside her, you little shit burglar! Fuck her for real, or you’re getting another dick up the ass!”

Sobbing, tears streaming from his eyes, Shit Fiesta adjusts his position and begins fucking the mare for real. She goes catatonic again.

“Huuuu… enf enf… huuhuuhuuuuu… enf… yoo am… enf… wowstest… enf enf enf… munsta… enf… Shet Fee-ehsta… enf enf… HATE… enf… yoo… huuuuuhuuuuuu…”

Shit Fiesta finishes and hugs the mare. You put a stop to that and toss her back in her cage, then put on your gloves and grab the Theralgesic. Shit Fiesta gives another soundless scream of agony as you rub it into his dick and balls and shove another jalapeno up his ass, then toss him back into the shit bucket.


“That’s nice. Just remember: you fucked that mare.”

You smile as he breaks down into uncontrollable crying and head up the stairs into the house.

Tomorrow you think you’ll make all the stallions run a train on his ass. Maybe then he’ll learn to behave.

You’re the nameless stallion. And you’re a coward. You keep giving bad special huggies to mares, even the little pink filly, just so the munsta won’t hurt you. You even gave bad special huggies to Shit Fiesta, and he’s a stallion!

You sob, feeling worse than poopies. You can’t poop out the burnie thing in your poopie place, but you almost feel like you deserve to have it there. You’re a bad fluffy.

You keep trying to apologize to Shit Fiesta, down in the poopies bucket, but he isn’t listening. He’s pacing back and forth, grinding his teeth. He pauses to poop out the burnie thing, then resumes pacing.

Finally, he throws himself at the side of the poopies bucket. Then again. And again. And again.

“Whu… whu Shet Fee-ehsta doin?”

Gritting his teeth, he slams into the side of the poopies bucket again.

“Gon get out agin. An dis time…”


“Dis time, we aww git out.”


“Wun way ow da udda.”


This is the last chapter I wrote for this story. I’d like to see how many people are interested in seeing it brought to a conclusion.


Honestly, I am. I think the best, most realistic ending is the breeder loses stock to suicide or a botched attempt. They don’t escape, they don’t get the better of him. He simply gets more ferals and continues. His low-quality, traumatized stock simply can’t make enough money.

What ends up getting him is not making money due to his own errors, his landlord (he’s not the home owner, right?) kicking him out, etc. He still loses, possibly quite big, but not directly due to the fluffies (unless, of course, the landlord finding out, getting disgusted for any number of non-hug box reasons including the horrible mess of the basement), etc. Maybe he gets busted for drug possession? I dunno.


Definitely would like to see a conclusion, of course I’m cheering on Shit-Fiesta and the fluffies. I’m probably barking up the wrong tree there, but I can hope.


Tries to think of logical ways the basement breeder could end up with jalapenos in his own ass


I am. The “breeder” is definiteely gonna lose. By that, I mean that he can’t make Shit Fiesta submit. He doesn’t get the satisfaction of winning. The idiot getting fucked by karma would be satisfying, but I’d be fine without it.

It is mentioned earlier in the story that he is trying to sell them for meth money, so that’s possible.



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I want the fluffies to get what’s coming to them tho


This could go two ways, karma. Or SF gets caught and the plan for hi m happens and he breaks.

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I loved this story. It really doesn’t deserve to be in the controversial group despite the rape. Fluffy rape isn’t a controversial thing until it isn’t a fluffy doing the raping.

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I am too, although its noted in other comments from earlier installments that monsters can and do win in fluffy fiction. I like hugbox, I like good fluffies winning, but at the same time I don’t want cheap hugbox or “justice” via deus ex machina. If they can turn utter loss into something not far off from a pyrrhic victory that’d be fine with me. Admittedly, there’s not much for them to lose (arguably) and given their current living even death is preferable long term, so I’m not entirely sure how it could be a pyrrhic victory so much as desperate.

“100% casualties, but it stopped. No more suffering, no more pain, and the monster lost too.”


The pink filly isn’t old enough, so I’m guessing its less about the rape and more about the age. It’d be like writing about a guy being forced to have sex with a 14 year old. Hence controversial. Kind of like enfie baby - its causes really strong reactions for some folks, and isn’t something I think needs to be seen by folks who just wander by.





Honestly, just follow Swindle. TONS of great stories. The ones with Brent Spiner are hilarious.


Just because I’m rooting for the fluffies and want a bad end for the breeder doesn’t mean I expect hugbox. That would feel cheap and out of place.


True, true. Sorry, being overly broad there. I’m used to over-explaining to make up for under-explaining my thoughts >_>


I’ve been enjoying it so far.

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Me too. I find industrial stuff to be quite interesting, and this half-assed, doomed to fail one is both personal yet not. Swindle writes quite a range of stories which I really appreciate. Its like, something comes up and while I don’t know what it’ll be I do know it’l lbe good.


Seeing a normally hugboxer advocating and hoping for non-hugbox things just feels odd so I understand the assumption.

It’s like seeing your teacher outside of school in normal clothes, just feels strange. Just not as strange as seeing them taking of their clothes on the stage of a strip club…but that’s a different story…

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Hey now, I thought we promised not to talk about my other job at “Dad Bod Inc.”

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