It had been a long week for Louis; long days at the factory, long evenings chipping away at projects for work and clubs, leaving almost no time for more than a few YouTube videos and a quick gaming stint. Now it was Friday, sweet glorious Friday. There’d be no extra project work or commitments this evening, especially after Jimmy’s fuck up kept them all at work an extra hour; tonight was Louis’s time to unwind.
After Louis unlocked the front door and stepped inside, he went straight to the storage closest; inside, his gear for the night waited. Not missing a beat, Louis stripped off his work get up and replaced it with a light t-shirt and shorts combo, over which went a boiler suit. Next came some sturdy steel cap boots, with golfing cleats frankensteined into the soles. Once dressed for the evening, Louis grabbed a large duffle bag and headed back out to his car. Heart beating fast at the anticipation of what was to come, he pulled out of the driveway and hit the road.
It was nearly 7pm in Lancaster, Ohio by the time Louis was heading out, and the town’s population was gearing up to enjoy the night. Most people would be in what passed for the entertainment districts or at home, well away from the parks and state land that ringed the city. It would give Louis the privacy he needed to enjoy himself True, there were few legal ramifications for what he had planned, but it didn’t matter what fluffies’ legal status was; lots of people, not just hugboxers, tended to look down on abusers.
Most folks didn’t care for feral fluffies, especially urban shitrats; they were pests and annoying ones at that. Everyone had at least one story of a fluffy begging them for food on the street, either for them of their foals. Bad enough by itself, more so when children were present; many a parent was called a monster or worse by their kids after refusing the help the poor baby fluffies. People didn’t care if the fluffies died, but unfortunately, they did care how they died.
As much as people hated the shitrats, abuse was a step too far for most. There was many a story of abusers who lost jobs and social ties when their hobby was revealed. It even claimed the scalp of a rising star in the state senate when a video emerged of his sons’ abuse fun; they forced a mare to chose one of her foals to spare from a bucket of acid. Louis liked that video, especially when the kids dumped all the peeping little turds in anyway; good shit.
Louis wouldn’t say he loved his job, but he had no intention of losing it and more over the bodies of a few brutalised shitrats. Well, the bodies of a lot of shit rats, but the point stood. He only indulged his hobby at night and away from any witnesses, save the occasional vagrant who had bigger concerns than reporting someone cutting up fluffies. Still, he couldn’t deny the risk of getting caught, however small he’d made it, made things more fun.
The drive to Louis’s playground for the evening lasted around a half-hour and took him a decent way into the sticks. His destination, an abandoned tractor repair shop; inside, a decent sized herd had set up camp. Fluff control had the area tagged for a sweep, but were bogged down with a spike in urban feral numbers, thanks to Spring weather and a sanitation worker strike. That meant Louis would have the herd all to himself. ‘Hell, this is practically community service,’ he mused as he parked in a secluded spot about a quarter-mile away from the shop.
Louis shut off the car, got and pulled his gear bag from the trunk; inside was his personal arsenal. Unlike some, Louis wasn’t into prolonged physical and psychological torture. It had its appeal sure, but Louis simply didn’t have the time or the desire to actually keep shitrats in his house. No, he preferred something a little more hot-blooded, a little more fast-paced.
From the bag, Louis grabbed the weapons he felt like using; his battle scared baseball bat newly wrapped with barbed wire, an equally well-used machete but with a freshly sharpened blade, a cudgel some fishing wire nooses and a combat knife. Louis had no idea what he’d end up using, but having options was never a bad thing. He fixed his gear on his belt, put his earbuds in and headed through the woods towards the repair shop. Before Louis went in, he opened his music app and set one of his favourite playlists to shuffle. As he stepped inside, the heavy opening guitar notes of Battle Sirens filled his ears.
Louis crept through the murky gloom as the song built to the first drop. Around the dusty trash-strewn shop there were signs of fluffy infestation; a pile of shit here and there, scraps of fluff, and what looked like an abandoned nest. No actual fluffies though, Louis guessed they’d be further in. His intuition was proven correct when he entered the attached garage. Near the centre of the dingy open space was a large fluff pile; Louis guessed it had to be 50 or 60 fluffies not counting foals he couldn’t see.
A smile equal parts glee and savagery crossed Louis’s face as he stalked towards the sleeping fluffies, the song building to the drop. Through the dim light, he picked out his first target, a unicorn sleeping by the edge of the pile. He walked up close, careful not to wake any of them and readied the bat, counting down to the drop. As Louis stood there, the unicorn stirred, sensing something nearby. The stallion opened his eyes groggily, the dim light making it hard to discern Louis’s from the general gloom.
Slowly, the Stallions eyes adjusted and took in more detail. He made out the shape of Louis’s legs in the dark and followed them, taking in the dark figure’s body, arms, the hint of its face and what it was holding. By the time the fluffy had met the figure’s gaze, Louis was ready. He shifted his grip on the bat, raised it high, paused a second to make sure the timing was just right and swung down, yelling ‘LET’S GO!’ in time with the track.
The barbed wire wrapped bat collided with the stallion’s head right on the drop; his skull split like a melon, spraying blood in all directions. The fluffy slumped on the garage floor stone dead, thick blood and brain matter leaking from his eyes nose and ears. Before his first victim had grown still, Louis aimed a kick at the fluffy next to the stallion; his boot hooked the mare right in the chest, breaking ribs and puncturing lungs as she was lifted off the floor and hurled toward the far wall. She fell in a crumpled heap, mouth open in a gurgling scream.
Louis stuck out with the bat, landing a third perfectly timed blow in the side of a younger fluffy; the impact snapped the leg, shoulder and back. The strike flowed into a curb stomp that flattened another stallion’s head. ‘SCREEE!! MUNSTAH!!’ Within seconds, the entire herd was awake and scrambling to respond to the danger. One fluffy looked up just in time for Louis’s slugger to catch him square in the face, pushing the splintered bones back into his brain. Most climbed over one another in panic, desperate to escape. The smarty yelled over the screams of the scared and dying, and tried to rally his toughies.
By some miracle, the herd’s defenders caught the sound of their leader over the chaos and ran to his side. All the while, Louis strode through the swirling mass of terrified shit rats, chaining bat swings, kicks and stomps in time with the beats and rhythm in his ears. Catching sight of a foal amidst the chaos, Louis swung the bat like a golf club and launched the filly into the far wall. She collided with a loud wet splat, and what was left dropped to the floor.
‘Get dah munstah!!!’ The smarty screamed, and lead his toughies into battle. Louis saw them coming and pulled the machete from his belt with a free hand. The first swing neatly split a toughie’s skull, and Louis struck out at another with his bat; the blow knocked the reddish-brown earthie to the floor but didn’t kill him.
‘SCREEE!!!’ The stallion lay curled on the floor, pain from his shatters shoulder and colour bone burning in his body. ‘HWURK!!!’ Louis drove the machete through his chest, slicing his heart and lungs apart. Louis ripped the blade free and swung in a wide arc, slicing deep into another toughie’s head and dropping the unicorn where he stood. Seeing more of their number wiped out in short order the other toughies faltered, but the smarty pushed them forwards.
‘Get him dummehs!! sabe hewd!!!’ Leading by example, the large unicorn charge forwards and actually managed to land a few blows on Louis’s leg. For his bravery, the smarty earned a machete blade through the top of his skull. The blade held his twitching body upright until Louis ripped it free, dropping the twitching body to the ground. A few toughies continued the charge, but the rest broke after the death of their leader. Louis bludgeoned and hacked the few brave ones to death, then set off in pursuit of the runners.
As the next track started, Louis broke a straggler’s back with a bat swing and opened a massive wound in one next to him. The victims lay on the floor, twitching and trying to gather up their guts. Within seconds Louis caught up with the rest of the fleeing shitrats and lashed out with blade and bat. Fluffies screamed and died, their blood spraying in gory fountains. Louis chained his blows in time with the music; he stopped thinking and simply did, moving with the grace of a dancer.
‘HAAHAHAHH!! DIE SHITRATS!!!’ Louis bellowed, overcome with savage glee. ‘DIE!! DIE MOTHER FUCKERS!!!’ His blade swept down and cleaved a mare’s head from her body, spraying blood everywhere. Seeing a dam running nearby, he revered the blade and struck out; the keen edge caught the pregnant fluffy in the side and bit deep, slicing through skin, fat, muscle and bone. The dam fell on her side with a wet gurgling scream. Entrails and blood spilt from her wound, and moments later, a flood of blood-stained fluid and premature fouls.
Louis didn’t miss a beat striding through the terrified shitrats and left a trail of sliced and broken bodies in his wake. The tangy, almost sour scent of fluffy blood was everywhere now, and it fuelled the crazed berserker Louis had become. 40K fan that he was, in a corner of his mind Louis couldn’t help but wonder if this was what the Red thirst or being a Khorne worshipper was like. The last thought stuck in his mind.
‘HAHAHA!! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!! BLEED FOR KHORNE SHITRATS!!’ There was no way Louis couldn’t play the part when he was this far in. He spilt more fluffy blood on the floor, already slick with a mixture of blood, shit and body parts.
‘Huwwy!! Nee scape!!’
‘Move dummehs!!!’
‘Peeeep!! Sabe Babbeh!!’
At one corner of the garage, another breakaway group were crowded around a hole in the wall, one of their entry and exit points. In a rush to get out, a technicolour traffic jam formed; as much as they pushed and shoved, almost no one could get out through the hole. Former friends turned on each other in the fight to get out, terrified foals hugged their mothers tight, and a few fluffies broke down and waited for the end. They weren’t left waiting long.
Louis arrived and laid into them, slashing and bludgeoning fluffies left and right. The screams and sprays of blood were a joy to his savage, primitive brain. His victims dropped with smashed bones, broken skulls, gaping slash wounds and missing limbs. Partway through the carnage, Louis came across a mare holding her Foals close to her chest. Before she could do anything, Louis slashed out with his machete and opened the mare’s neck.
Blood spewed from the wound and bathed the terrified foals huddled in the mare’s fluff. ‘Screeee!!!’ They tumbled from their potions, their fluff dyed crimson by their mother’s blood. Louis carried on slaughtering the group. A lucky few managed to squeeze through the hole and flee into the night, but the escape route was cut off by a dam. Belly swollen by pregnancy, the dam found herself stuck half in and out of the building.
‘Hewp!!! Speciaw fwend hewp!!’
‘Fwuffy cumin!!’ A stallion ran back from the edge of the woods to his mate’s aid. He tried everything he could to extract the dam from her predicament while she scrabbled at the ground. Realising there was no other choice, the stallion gripped his mate’s mane and his teeth and got ready to-
‘SQUEEEEEE!!!’ The dam’s pained squeal filled his ears. The stallion recoiled but immediately ran back.
‘Speciaw fwend!! Wat happen!?!’ The stallion was answered by the dam’s eyes rolling back, and blood pouring from her mouth. ‘NUUU!!’ The stallion pulled on his date mate. ‘NU SPECIAW FWEND!! NU BE FOWEWA SWEEPIES!!’
‘Fwend!!’ Another stallion came back from the woods and tried to push him away. ‘Nu can hewp hew nao!! Fwuffies nee wun way!!’
‘SPECIAW FWEND!! NUUUU!!!’
‘Weave him dummeh!!’ A third escapee called from the trees, and the stallion reluctantly left his friend to cry by the dead dam’s side. Inside, Louis withdrew his machete from the dam’s back, blood dripping from the steel. He stepped away from the wall and hunted after the remaining survivors. Some he hadn’t killed yet managed to slip out of the building through other holes and escape routes, but a few remained; fluffies so panicked they couldn’t find a way out in the dark, mares with young foals and foals who’d been abandoned in the panic.
Louis chased down the last few adults, cracking skulls and running them through. Nearly exhausted from the effort, Louis’s grip on the bat slipped as he pummelled a fleeing unicorn; it left his hand and knocked the machete from the other as it went. Without stopping to retrieve them, Louis grabbed another straggler, lifted the pegasus high into the air and slammed her into the concrete ground. The mare landed with a sickening heavy crunch. Louis snatched the tail of another and swung the screaming colt into the wall, leaving a bloody smear where he hit.
Spying a lat few runners making for a gap in the wall, Louis dashed after them but only caught one. ‘SCREEEE!!!’ The young fluffy screamed as Louis hefted him into the air. ‘NU WEAVE FWUFFEEEE-SPLAT’ With a final heave, Louis smashed him into the floor. The broken body twitched a few times and grew still. With that last kill, Louis finally hit the wall; he doubled over, bracing himself on his legs and took long, deep breaths. The stench of fluffy blood was overpowering but only heightened the buzz from the exertion and of a job well done. Besides, it covered the smell of their shit which was in no short supply.
When he’d recovered enough to walk, Louis pulled a knife from his belt and went about hunting down the last few stragglers. It didn’t take him long to find one, a mare with four foals on the cusp of weaning; the lumps of crying, peeping fluff huddled under their mother, who looked up at Louis’s approach. Her face was tear-stained and plastered with a look of mortal terror, but she didn’t try to run; the mare understood there was no chance of escape, and only one last gambit.
‘Pw-pwease nice mistah, n-nu huwt Fwu-fwuffy’ she begged. ‘Fwuffy am gulp a-am Mummah! Babbehs am tuu wittwe! Pwease w-wet Mummah go!’
Louis started down at the mare, into her wide terror-filled eyes. ‘No.’ He reached down and grabbed the mare by the mane and wrenched her off the floor.
‘SCREEE!!’ The mare screamed and flailed about. Bellow, her foals were sent into a fresh spat of terrified peeps and crying, their few words abandoning them. Louis held the mare out at arm’s length and watched the fluffy squirm in his grasp for a few moments. Then, he brought the blade to her neck and slashed it open. ‘Gwururk…’ The scream changed to a pained wet gurgle, and a waterfall of gore ran from her open throat down her belly and dripped onto her foals.
‘Screee!!’
‘Peep peep!! Peeeep!!!’
‘Speeeep! Mummah!!!’
The foals writhed about, delicate fluff now sticky with their mother’s blood. The mare’s body hung at a strange angle form her head. Louis tossed the corpse aside and turned his attention to the foals. They writhed and crawled in terror, leaving a path through the pool of fresh blood on the floor. Spying a pegasus that might have been blue, and likely it’s parent’s favoured, Louis lifted his boot and pinned the foal with it.
‘Screee!!’ The foal screamed when he felt the weight on his back. ‘Peep peep! Mummah!! Mummah hewp!! Peeeep!!!’ The little colt scrabbled at the sticky floor with his stumpy legs in a futile attempt to escape. ‘Squeeee!!!’ A fresh squeal came from the foal’s mouth when Louis pushed down with his boot. ‘Mummah!!! Mummah!!!’ Louis increased the pressure with his boot, slowly but relentlessly. The colt struggled harder, feeling his body get slowly crushed. ‘SCREEE!! REEEeeee…’
It didn’t take long for the weight of Louis’s boot to squash the foal’s lungs. Next, his ribs started to break, each soft pop sent a jolt of pain through his body. Then there was a soft wet crunch, followed by a searing pain that shot through the foal’s tiny body; his pelvis had just been crushed to splinters. Blood poured from his eyes ears and noses, and his tongue and eyes bulged out of his head. A bit over half a minute after Louis started, he crushed the foal’s skull and finally killed it.
One baby shit rat squashed flat against the floor Louis moved on to its sibblings; he picked out a unicorn filly and crushed it under his boot as slowly as possible to draw out the agony. When the filly was nothing but a pile of squashed gore, bone and fluff Louis moved on to the second unicorn in the mare’s litter. Before he placed his boot, he could just make out two sores on the foal’s back. ‘Huh, guess someone got fixed.’ He’d heard about mares biting wings off Alicorn foals instead of outright killing them. Didn’t matter now, though. Louis crushed it to death like he’d done the “unicorn’s” brother and sister.
The fourth foal managed to escape into a small cavity, which forced Louis and bent down and fish it out. ‘SQUEEE!!! MUMMAH!!! SABE BABBEH!! PEEP PEEP!!!’
‘She ain’t coming shit rat. Now,’ Louis tossed the foal up and down in his hand like a ball while he searched for a decent target, ‘time to fly!’ He threw the screaming foal at a cracked window. To his surprise, the foal broke the window on contact, glass shards falling in and out of the garage. The filly fell on the ground outside, remarkably still alive but not for long; the foal opened and closed its mouth like a fish out of water internals fatally broken and a glass splinter lodged in her chest.
Louis moved on and hunted for more stragglers, but there were few now. While he was busy, larger foals dropped or left behind had scrambled out of the building. Unless some of the other escapees found them, they’d have little chance outside, though much better than if they’d stayed put. While he searched, Louis retrieved his bat and machete from the floor. Blood dripped off the battle-worn instruments, and both sported some new marks and blemishes.
He walked up and down the length and breadth of the space, looked in every nook and cranny he could locate in the dark. But, Louis didn’t find more shitrats to kill. With a heavy sigh, he admitted the night’s fun was at an end, and it was time to go home. As he turned back to the front though, rays of light shone through the office window and gaps and holes in the walls. Louis stiffened; cops? Unlikely, no one was close enough to call in a noise complaint, unless it was a sweep for vagrants. He didn’t see reds and blues, as little as that meant.
If it wasn’t cops, it could be junkies looking for a new den or cook site, a particularly determined shelter worker, or probably anything. No matter who it was, Louis was not staying to find out. Careful as he could, he made his way to the rear of the building, He’d sneak out the back and cut through the trees to his car. Worst case, he’d have to dump his gear in the woods on the way. Whatever it took to slip away without anyone connecting him to all this.
Outside, the car shut off and the soft amber light went out, only to be replaced by the harsh white light of those Cree torches everyone loved so fucking much. ‘This is the place,’ a young-sounding voice said. ‘It’s full of fluffies.’
‘I don’t like it, man’ a second young male voice said back. ‘This place is giving off a bad vibe.’
‘Shut up Jake,’ Louis heard the front door creak. ‘We’re not going to find a better place to get some choice footage for the channel than here.’ Louis slipped out through an old screen door the fluffies knocked loose but decided to stop nearby and listen in for a few moments. He wondered what kind of filmmakers these kids were.
‘Bennie’s right Jake,’ the third voice was female. ‘One shot of these little idiots running around covered in this stuff and we’ll get so many damn views!!’
Great, more of these YouTube cock-suckers. Louis hated them; they were always horning in on abusers’ turf and fucking up their fun, ruining spots at best and reporting them to the cops at worse. With that realisation though, Louis decided to stay for just a little lon-
‘Come on, they’ll be in… What the FUCK!?!’
‘Holy shit, holy shit what the fuck man?!’
‘Oh my god… I, I gonna-’ Louis heard the girl heave and a loud wet splattering sound.
‘Nah, nah fuck this Bennie!’ The second kid who must have been Jake said. ‘This shit’s fresh!! The psycho who did this is still here!!’
‘Ahhh!!’ Louis heard a thud and then louder screaming. ‘AHH!! IT’S ALL OVER ME!! GET IT OFF ME!! GET IT OFF GETITOFF!!’
‘Geeze bitch, it’s just a bit of blood,’ Louis muttered under his breath.
‘We’re leaving! We’re fucking leaving!!’ Jake screamed. ‘Come on Zoe, hurry!!’
‘Who, who the fuck does-’
‘BENNIE I SWEAR TO FUCK I’LL LEAVE YOU BEHIND!!’
Louis heard the sounds of shoes on concrete, a door slamming open, a car revving to life and roar away down the road. A few moments later, all was quiet again. Louis stayed put for a moment longer, then turned and headed for his car. On the way back, he couldn’t help but laugh. These puck ass kids sure thought they were hot shit, teasing fluffies and putting it online in hopes they could whore themselves out to whichever tech-pimp had the best deal this week.
None of them had the guts for real goddamn abuse though. Louis remembered watching an archived live stream from one of the little faggots; they dangled a bucket of foals from a highway overpass while the mare danced and sang through her tears. Decent enough, except the idiots tried to give the foals back to the filthy fucking alley rat. It was a relief when the kid’s grip slipped the and bucket disappeared over the edge, followed by tyre screeching. The mare freaked the fuck out, and so did the little cunts making the video. Last he heard, they nuked everything they had online; at least they tried to, anyway.
‘Heh heh heh, little punks,’ With any luck those three wouldn’t be doing anything for a while, and there’d be a little less interference out there. Back at his car, Louis slipped off his bloody gear and stuffed it in a trash bag. It would find its way to an incinerator sometime next week. Fun complete, for now, Louis drove home, picking up some pizza on the way. When he got home, he thought he’d watch one of his favourite abuse stories, “Breaking Polly,” before he wasted the rest of the evening gaming.
Louis’s playlist, for your records.
Knife Party; Bonfire, Centipede, Power Glove, Battle Sirens, Fire Hive.
Perturbator; I am the night, Ghost dancers slay together, Humans are such easy prey, Death Squad, Disco Inferno, Assault.
Pendulum; Slam, Tarantula, Self vs Self
Tech N9ne; Am I a psycho, PTSD, Show me a god, Whither, On the bible, B.I.T.C.H, Straight out the gate, Technicians, The Boogieman
Eminem; Role model, White America, Square Dance, Business, 3am, Berserk
GUNSHIP; Shadow Fury, Pink Mist, Dark All Day, The gates of disorder