This is my submission to @BFM101’s Da Twiwight Pwace - Community Project, based on the episode “A Nice Place To Visit”.
In a monochrome saferoom, the hum of a theremin in the air, there is an equally monochrome stallion by the name of Wod Sehwing.
“Sum fwuffies fink dey dee-sewv ev-wee-fing dey wan. Ev-wee-fing dey can get dey gwubby hoofsies awn. But du dey eba fink dat mebbeh, dewe am such a fing as tuu much of a gud fing? Tuu-nite, a fwuffy am gunna fine owt da hawd way, awn…”
Wod pauses, purely for dramatic effect.
“…Da Twiwight Pwace.”
In a bustling city, a smarty, ousted from his herd, is about to have a fatal accident.
As he crosses the street, he narrowly avoids being run over by a bicycle.
“Wow, dat wuz a cwose wu–”
Only to fall down an open manhole.
The smarty opens his eyes, and as his vision clears, he finds himself in an opulent saferoom.
Now, he’s heard stories from former house fluffies, stories of saferooms and all their wonderful fixtures…
But now he feels like the stories have undersold saferooms a tad.
And he’s not alone. A beautiful woman, with a white robe, a halo, and white feathery wings is here too. She has a warm and friendly smile on her face.
“Welcome to Heaven, dear smarty! Here, you can have anything you want! ANYTHING.”
The smarty, being as skeptical as a feral fluffy tends to be, ponders this, rubbing his chin with a marshmallow hoof.
“Weawwy? Aneefing? Wike sketties?”
The angel waves her hand, plates of spaghetti appearing on the floor.
“Any kind of pasta you desire, dear smarty.”
“Wut about toysies?”
With another wave of the angel’s hand, toys appear: balls and stuffy friends, and even a GameFluff, complete with a TV.
“You name it, it’s yours.”
Then an idea enters the smarty’s brain, a diabolical smile appearing on his face.
“Wut abowt enfie mawes?”
“Enf! Enf! Enf! Enf! Enf!”
“Smawty no-nos am su big!”
As the smarty gleefully thrusts away inside a mare whose comments on the size of his genitals probably aren’t sincere, several dozen more mares surround them, patiently waiting for their next turn.
Yes, next turn. He’s been busy for a while.
Suddenly, the angel reappears, and now, she’s not looking so beautiful. In fact, her expression is not unlike that of a cranky greasy spoon waitress dealing with an extremely persnickety customer making a very complicated order, near the end of a particularly long shift.
“Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?”
The smarty pauses, turning to the angel, still balls deep inside the mare.
“Huh? Wut an wong, missus an-juw?”
“It’s been five thousand years, dumbass! You’ve been screwing mares non-stop for FIVE THOUSAND YEARS! And you’re STILL not bored?!?”
The smarty shrugs.
“If yu wan smawty tu stawp, yu am gunna haf tu kik smawty owtta Hevun, cuz smawty cud keep gibin enfies foweba.”
“You dumb fuck… this isn’t Heaven!”
“Dis nu am Hevun? But missus an-juw sed it am Hevun…”
The angel changes shape, into a very male demon.
“Yeah, see, we were TRYING to do the whole thing where giving you everything you want eventually drives you mad with boredom, and you ask to be sent to Hell, and we go haha, joke’s on you, you’re already there. But you went and ruined it. You’re the first damned soul this hasn’t worked on. Most of them crack after the first century, but you, you’re a special kind of persistent, you are. Congratulations, you win.”
The smarty looks at the mare he’s still buried to the hilt in.
“Su… du dat meen smawty can keep duin dis?”
The demon laughs, as the mares all vanish, one by one, the one the smarty was raping vanishing first.
“Nope! It just means we’re gonna torture you the REGULAR way. From now on, YOU’RE the mare. Okay boys, send this asshole to the Rape Chamber!”
“Da wut?!? Nu nu nu nu nu–”
Then a hole appears in the floor.
Right under the smarty, who, naturally, falls in.
The smarty opens his eyes, and as his vision clears, he finds himself in a cave, illuminated by torches burning with hellfire.
The light glints off racks of sinister metal sex toys, that even the most diehard masochist would shy away from.
On one table, there’s a pile of pineapples of various sizes.
The air is thick with the stench of sulfur, and the wails of the damned echo from all directions.
The smarty quickly realizes that he’s strapped to a stone table, his legs firmly bound, and a stone pillow beneath him keeps his fluffy little bum raised in the air, in a perfect position to be mounted.
And he’s not alone.
Another demon is here, a morbidly obese one.
The demon smiles at the smarty.
“Hi there! My name’s Frank! But you can call me Footlong Frank! I’m Down Here because of the things I did to fluffies like you when I was alive. Now I do it for a living! So to speak.”
He bends down, whispering into the smarty’s ear.
“I think we’re going to be the BEST of friends. Don’t YOU?”
As Footlong Frank pulls his loincloth down, the smarty’s eyes widen.
“…Dat nu am gunna fit.”
“Not the FIRST time I’ve heard that, y’know. And every OTHER fluffy who said that was wrong…”
Footlong Frank walks behind the smarty, who
desperately yet futilely tries to break free.
And Wod Sehwing walks in, trotting up to the smarty’s table.
“Dewe yu hab it. Nao yu see, dewe am such a fing as tuu much of a–”
An elite demon storms over, glaring at Wod.
“Who let you out of your cage? Wait your turn, shitrat!”
“Wait, dewe am a miss-take, Wod nu am hewe fow–”
The elite demon grabs Wod.
“No excuses, buster! You’ll get your turn with Footlong Frank soon enough.”
As the elite demon carries Wod off to the cages, he sighs.
“Aw, fwuff. Dis am wai fwuffies shud be happeh wif wut dey hab. Cuz it cud awways be wowse… in da Twiwight Pwace.”
As the credits roll, Calvin, Judy, Scott and their fluffies stare blankly at the TV, in the living room of their apartment.
Calvin blinks a couple of times.
“What the fuck did we just watch?”