Dawn of the Fluffy part 3: Stuck Between a Fluff and a Dead Place, by Resnoth

Howard was just resting his eyes, after a long day at the office, when he heard almost a chorus of yowling noises coming from outside his apartment.

The noise sounded like it could’ve been fluffies, but sounded strange and unusual, like those strange sounds cats make.

Nevertheless, it annoyed him as it was getting in the way of his sleep.

The next day was finally the weekend, and he wasn’t going to allow a group of shitrats to keep him up all night long.

Luckily, he had bought months ago a set of ear plugs just for this reason.

He put the soft foam into both of his ears and went back to sleep.

Dawn had now arrived, as Howard opened his eyes and saw the Saturday Sun’s light reflecting off of his shutters and back into the surrounding wall.

He sat up, removed the ear plugs, and again heard the same, damn, annoying yowling from last night.

Had those damn fluffies been up at it all night?

He knew how to handle a situation like this, since this was not the first time he’s had to deal with an infestation outside his apartment.

In his building, it was common to encounter herds of fluffies walking around, begging for “huggies, nummies, an toysies.”

“Shit-heads” he whispered to himself.

“Already ruining my damn Saturday morning.”

He got up from bed and opened the blinds, looking for the herd that was causing the noise.

Once he spot them, he would either pour boiling water on them or take them in, just to use as his “stressballs” when he got frustrated just like the last herd that came knocking at his door.

Those shits wanted to get inside to run away from “fwuffy munstahs”, or whatever the fuck they said in their babble bullshit.

He lured then to his soundproof torture room, and keeps them there.

When he opensd the blinds, he immediately found the fluffies responsible for the noise last night and this morning.

Only this time, no pot of boiling water was going to take care of them, and there was far too many to lure them to his soundproof torture room.

When he looked outside, there were possibly hundreds of fluffies standing around outside of his building, and surrounding it.

It seemed they were wandering aimlessly about, with many, if not all of them, looking badly hurt.

But the odd thing was, instead of the usual wining and crying about “wowstest huwties”, there was no crying from them.

Only the weird, unnatural yowling noises coming from them.

An amber alert rang off in his phone, so he reached for the nightstand to pick it up and check it to turn it off.

It was a State of Emergency message, telling people to immediately evacuate their homes and to not, by any circumstances, assist any feral fluffies that appear to act “unusual.”

He heard screaming coming from one of his neighbors in the building right across from him, in the apartment complex.

They opened their front door, and the massive herd started marching inside their apartment.

This didn’t do much to decrease the size of the herd from outside, but it taught him that he should check to make sure his front door was locked.

As he walked downstairs to his front door, he passed by the torture room.

He made it to the front door and saw that it was locked, but he could hear some knocking from outside the door.

He quietly moved towards it, and peeked through the peephole on his door.

He saw maybe four or five of those “fluffies” already outside of his door.

Some of them looked like they had parts of their faces torn off, while others looked much worse.

So worse that they look like they should be dead, but here they were, standing outside of his door.

No way was he going to be able to evacuate.

He didn’t even own a car.

He usually bikes his way to work, and the grocery store is so close that he never needed a car.

But, his bike was chained to the bike rack outside in the parking lot, in the megaherd outside.

Yeah, no fucking way he was going to get out of here, he thought to himself.

He thought about something he had heard of a few weeks ago about fluffies coming back to life, but it was quickly forgotten about as government officials said that they had it under control.

The same news stations that reported the story had suddenly stopped reporting it, so it faded in Howard’s mind.

“How could it get this bad? I thought they had it under control.”

He placed himself around the living room and thought to himself on what to do.

He lived up on the third floor, so it seemed that They weren’t too interested in his floor, since the stairs might only be accessible to some.

This could explain why there’s only 5 outside of his door, while there’s dozens surrounding every door on the first floor exterior doors.

He walked back, passing his torture room, went into his bedroom, and opened up his laptop.

He searched up in his browser “resurrected fluffies”, and immediately was flooded with results.

At least there was still internet.

He saw there were now dozens of news organizations, from well known and controversial ones, to the more obscure ones anyone hardly knew about.

But they all said the same thing: That everywhere, fluffies are coming back to life and attacking living fluffies and people.

And that the only way to kill them indefinitely was removing the head or destroying the brain.

If not, any fluffy that has died from any injury that did not destroy the brain would come back to life.

Any recently dead fluffy, he thought to himself.

He thought a bit more.

“Shit!” He exclaimed.

“How could I be so fucking stupid?!”

He looked past his bedroom door, looking towards the general direction of his torture room and thought back to last night.

He had just gotten through a long and tedious day at the office, the coffe stain on his pants was evidence to that.

He kicked off his shoes, placing them to the side of his wall, next to the door, and removed his tie.

He removed his office clones, and changed into a simple t shirt and shorts, walking around with his socks on the soft carpet.

He wanted to relive himself of some stress, and he felt that he should pick out which one of stress balls he was going to use.

He walked up to the door of his torture room he soundproofed, since he didn’t want any complaints from his hugboxer neighbor, and quickly entered and shut the door behind himself, not wanting any of the fluffies escaping their little hell he had in store for them.

He saw the fluffies cowering before him, all shaking and whimpering.

There were three stallions, five mares, and eight foals.

Plenty of stress balks to work with.

One of the fluffies, their leader, a unicorn, stopped whimpering and puffed out its cheeks at him, saying “Smawty nu afwaid ob ou’ nu mowe!”

He looked at it with interest.

“Wet Smawty’s hewd gu, ow get sowwy hoofsies an’ sowwy poopsies!”

He wasn’t annoyed by the smarty demanding his herd to be let go.

In fact, he seemed thrilled, because that meant this fluffy still had a will to live.

A will he could play with until it would be utterly shattered.

He wanted this fluffy to know nothing but pain in its last moments of it’s short life.

He grabbed the fluffy by the scruff of it, yanking and pulling it up.


Feeling the loose skin and fur in his hands from it’s back gave him an idea.

He walked over to the desk that had a short, but effective fence area that prevented the other fluffies from interfering with his work, only allowing them to watch his horror.

He walked over to the desk, and strapped the smarty to it, enjoying the struggle it out it since it made him hurt the smarty even more, feeling and hurting it while it was doing all if could to try and survive, it wriggling and screaming.

Before it could finish “GUNNA GIB DUMMEH HOOMAN SOWWY POOPS-”, he quickly reached in a drawer for a cork that he had and plugged its ass up, with a screaming reaction coming from it.


The little fucker was too busy screaming and hopelessly struggling to figure out why.

He strapped it to the desk with the straps already nailed to the desk, securing it there.

He reached the same drawer and pulled out a hunting knife.

With it, he carefully cut through the skin and fur in a curved line around the fluffy’s neck, but not deep enough to slice its throat, allowing it to scream in pain.

He then cut from the middle of the throat, all the way to its chest and across its belly, being careful in only cuttng the skin and not anything underneath.


He listened to the smarty, and enjoyed every second of its screams and hopeless pleas.

After he finished cutting the fluffy in certain places, he reached in and grabbed a hammer, holding it up to the fluffy, seeing its eyes widen and smiling from the screaming, knowing yet not knowing what’s to come.

He thrusts the phone into its left hinge leg, hearing a horrible cracking sound, as the leg bends in a what that it shouldn’t.


Howard replied with a grin. “No…this isn’t wowstest huwties…we’rejust starting.”

He slammed the hammer again three more times, with each observing fluffy shaking and crying, hearing their leader’s legs snap and crack until they were all broken.

The smarty was crying in pain, tears streaming down its face, Howard standing over it, laughing.

After breaking its legs, he set the hammer aside and places his fingers on the cuts he made on the fluffy, curling his thumbs under it.

He then started pulling it apart, peeling the skin of its belly as it screamed in pain and horror.

He continued feeling until it got to the legs.

He stopped, undoing its straps, and flipped it over.

He resumed his peeling, skinning the fluffy, pulling its skin back against the legs, until it came off, and the skin continued coming off now at the back.

The thing kept on screaming in pain as he continued peeling its skin in delight until he completed it by finishing with the skin around its head.

He was slow and careful about it, until all of its skin and fur had been successfully peeled off in one piece, the fluffy’s screaming reverting to it weakly and horsley saying “wan die” on repeat, as well as chirping.

Howard turned back, and grabbed the fluffy by its exposed muscles, causing it to scream in pain.

“Where’s your revolutionary leader now?” Howard said mockingly as he tossed the Smarty right in front of them, on the tiled floor.

He had this room tiled so blood and shit would be easier to clean up.

He took the fluffy pelt and hung it in a cabinet with the others.

Surely the smarty will die in minutes.

With a satisfied smile, he walked out of the torture room and went to the bedroom to wash the blood off his hands.

He surely would have a good night’s sleep.

“How could I be such an idiot?!”

He regrettably said to himself.

“Why did I have to kill one of them when this shit is happening?!”

He sighed.

“Maybe it’ll be alright. Maybe not all of them turn.”

He thought about it, and suddenly remembered the teddy bear!

He went to his phone and went to a certain app on his screen.

A while back, he wanted to record his sessions, so he installed a teddy bear with a hidden camera in it.

He went to the app and turned on the teddy bear.

He turned on the bear and was disappointed with what he saw.

Part of the lens was stained in blood, so half of the screen was stained in crimson.

From what he saw, the fluffies were moving around like the ones outside, shambling and stumbling.

He saw one of the mares had only one eye, its left eye socket bloody and exposed.

The one-eyed mare was chewing on something.

Howard zoomed in and saw that what was in the mare’s mouth was a small hoof and a lower fluffy torso that had fur the same color as the mare.

She was eating one of her foals.

He saw movement to his right and zoomed in.

He saw the skinned smarty up and shambling around.

“Damn it, it is everywhere!” He said to himself.

He tried to reassure himself.

All he had to do was destroy their brains and they would be dead, right?

He thought about how to exterminate them.

He remembered his best sorry stick, a bat with nails sticking out of it that also had a chain wrapped around it.

Now where did he put it?

He realized where it is.

In the cabinet.

Where the fluffy pelts are.

In the torture room.

That was currently occupied by these “ZombFluffs” that the internet is calling them.

Shit, he thought to himself.

What else did he have to smash their brains in?

He looked at his closet and saw a big box inside.

He went to it and it, and opened it.

Inside were some steel-toed hoots he ordered last month to kick in the heads of a few ferals that were always around his apartment.

It seemed this was his only choice.

He was going to need something to protect his legs though.

He looked around and saw the box again.

It’s not like he was going to put then back inside.

He grabbed a box cutter and started cutting up the cardboard of the box into pieces.

He walked in front of the door, with his steel-toed boots on, and with cardboard duct-taped to his legs.

He heard that these things were infectious.

All he had to do was to smash their heads in and get to his sorry stick from there.

He braced himself, and opened the door.