This is a follow-up from Derek Deacon’s dirty desires and guest stars both Mandy MacFeely and Billie from their respective series.
I would recommend familiarizing yourself with these stories first but it is not a hard necessity to enjoy this story.
Ralph was a fat cunt, a professionally fat cunt even.
He was an obscenely large and portly ball of blubber and fluff, he was actually rather disgusting to look at, at least more so than the regular fluffy. His tiny and atrophy ridden legs were barely visible and were just able to touch the ground, extending beyond his fuzzy pale blue gut by a mere couple of inches.
You see, Ralph, or otherwise known as 02-318 was a prize fluffy, a county fair blue ribbon winner and all around fat worthless oxygen thief.
With his two tone body of sky blue and pale pink, his gradient coloured horn and matching wings, he was a treat for the eyes, if your idea of visual treat was staring at a walking public service announcement on the dangers of carbohydrates.
Despite his considerable size -and it was considerable-, he was among the stars of Deacon farms, a top quality fluffy mill and classical farm with a spotless record when it came to beautiful and generally well adjusted fluffies.
Getting a fluffy at Deacon farms would set you back anywhere from £500 all the way to £30,000, depending on how picky you were and how specific your desired fluffy was, but Mr Deacon would never turn down a request. Regardless of the price. One thing was certain, you would always be guaranteed the best behaved and most beautiful fluffy.
Today was the annual exhibition fair for Deacon farms. It was a yearly occurrence that drew fat stacks of cash from the sweaty pockets of fluffy fanatics of all stripes, hugboxers and abuser alike from across all of Europe and north America were wandering the farm, buying merchandise and taking pictures with and talking to the fluffies on exhibition, placed in charming pens of varying sizes, each segregated by type and trait.
Standing on a stage outside the building’s entrance was the well-known and respected Derek Deacon and by his side was his faithful companion, a charming and beautiful two toned purple and pink filly with a luscious and glistening coat. Derek was surveying his collection on display with the pride of king ozamandius himself. Although his attention was clearly locked on his favourite little butterball. Because Derek enjoyed two things in life and up until recently he had been suppressing it with a nasty combination of prescription medication and liquor. Derek deeply enjoyed colourful and pretty things, charming things, delicate things. The second thing he enjoyed was bringing undue torment to those very things, with but only one exception being his personal fluffy, Beatrice. And it was for her sake that he directed his perversions elsewhere.
Derek had grown rather fond of Ralph after the fat bastard had earned himself his first blue ribbon at a showfluffy competition back in January. Derek took notice of how visibly proud the young and handsome stallion was to have earned best in show. That was back when the now gross blob of a fluff was slender, suave and the envy of all fluffy kind. Back then Ralph was the sort of fluffy that other stallions wished to be and mares would name their enfie toys after.
Yes, Ralph had it all, the obnoxious prick even got an over inflated ego for a while, arguing with staff, screaming and stomping, throwing tantrums when made to go get a check up, or even when the groomers didn’t use the shampoo he liked.
Derek had decided to “reward” the self appointed gigachad of fluffdom with whatever his selfish heart desired. If Ralph needed to get his little pecker wet then he’d get it, although Derek would be sure to get him sterile mares riddled with STDs, straight off the street. They wouldn’t be packing the deadly kind mind you, just the sort of crotch spice that stung, itched and made pissing feel like one was passing the RMS Titanic through their urethra. And if Ralph wanted sketties then his fat ass would get sketties by the bucket load, topped with the fattiest shredded cheese any fluffy could dream of.
That’s how Ralph got to where he was now. A disgusting mockery of the stallion he once was. With his uncomfortable, disease ridden cock and his body so gargantuan that he hadn’t seen his fetid micro member since February, he truly was in a hell of his own making.
That’s where Mandy came in, the onsite veterinarian for Deacon farms. Mandy found herself a bit overworked since being made to partake in Derek’s Project. She wasn’t all that disgusted to be honest, she wasn’t exactly working with a full set upstairs either and neither was her co-worker Billie. But going back to Mandy, the stress was getting to her. It was becoming something of a difficult balancing act to keep all the worthy and desirable fluffies in top fighting form and also keep the living proof of an uncaring universe alive.
To make matters worse, Ralph had started to develop laminitis and soon one of his limbs would be on the chopping block.
“how are we doing today?” Mandy said to the miserable fat git as she scribbled away on her work tablet.
“huuhuu, weggie hewties! Hab biggest ouchies! Pwease nice docta wady, mayk Wawf smaww an pwetty gain!” The talking rectal polyp begged, so desperately in fact that he even hopped onto his hind legs to beg against the fencing like the sad worm that he he had become.
“I don’t know, I think I’m gonna have to ask the boss” Mandy played along with a sweet tone, already waiting for Derek to answer her video call.
Mandy then turned the tablet around so that Ralph could look his lord and master in the eye.
“hello Ralph, I hear that you’re being a big cry baby again… Remember now, if you don’t start losing some weight then you’ll go forever sleepies and we definitely wouldn’t want that” Derek said firmly while trying desperately to stifle a chuckle.
“huuhuu nu faiw! Wawf am bestest! nu du dancies! Eberywun mayk fun!” Ralph begged desperately, tears and snot running down his face, shaken by the idea of his impending mortality.
“you got fat, remember? You wanted sketties all the time. We always offered you healthy kibble and even a nice crispy salad. You did it, you fix it. Otherwise you’ll die and I’ll just replace you with a new bestest… I’ll probably even give your ribbon to him” Derek smirked faintly under his strict and fatherly tone.
“bu-” Ralph attempted to persuade.
“NO BUTS! If you don’t dance then you can’t lose weight, if you can’t lose weight then you’re going to die and I’ll find a better fluffy… It’s that simple, hop to it, I’ll be watching” Derek finished off before abruptly hanging up.
Mandy had just about finished up writing on the signs around his pen when the call ended.
“well, good luck” Mandy shrugged before taking off to look after the deserving fluffies at the festival.
Ralph now understood what he needed to do, he needed to replicate what got him his ribbon to begin with, after all, he was a “Dancie Bebbeh” from the moment he fell out of his mother’s rotten snatch. It was his destiny to win back the hearts of the public and more importantly the favor of Mr Deacon. So the bulbas pig-rat-horse-thing stood himself in the middle of his pen, hopped up to his hind legs and began doing his best imitation of the Truffle Shuffle.
Unfortunately Ralph was unaware of what the signs read around him, being that they were only facing away from him, for passers-by to gleam and what with Ralph being a fluffy, he was simply too dense to grasp the Infinite complexities of the written word.
The signs around him read in bold red letters, “fat smarty needs bullying, let 'em have it!” and “whoever makes him say ‘wan die’ first gets a free fluffy of their choosing!”.
At first Ralph was dancing to no one, he was absolutely crestfallen, to have gone from the star of the thoroughbred fluffy world to a fat loser who cries and jiggles his gut for the amusement of the humans who in his mind should be worshiping him. Eventually people started to read the signs left about his pen but most attendees were hugboxers, they had no interest in pushing a fluffy to suicide, even a smarty. Then the abusers caught wind and they salivated at the offer.
“oi, fatty! Yeah you ya fat cunt! The fuck is wrong with ya knob?” Billie shouted. She was on break as disciplinary and could do with getting a high class fluffy for another one of her home torture projects, especially after the last one ended so disappointingly.
“huuhuuhuu! Nu-nu stickie hab hewties bu Wawf nu can see id! Am id bad?” he asked, still gyrating and wobbling about on his back legs, visibly suffering both physically and mentally.
“it’s all black and green… Jesus fookin’ christ! It’s got pus comin’ out of it!” Billie laughed after gagging at the sight of it.
“WAT! NU-NU STICKIE AM BWOKEN?” he panicked as he immediately fell on his rump and began trying to kneed his doughy belly so he could confirm what had been told to him.
“HUUHUUHUUU! DUMMEH TUMMEH, NU BE MEANIE, PWEAS MOOVE! AM NEE SEE MISTA NU-NU STICKIE! HUHUHUU!” he weeped and blubbered further before visibly going into a panic attack with his deep and fat breaths becoming visibly short and fast wheezes.
To add insult to injury, Derek got down and stomped towards the pen as soon as his favourite freakshow stopped his performance, he only had to get five steps from the stage before Ralph immediately threw himself back up and began dancing again in a desperate but ultimately futile attempt at regaining his daddy’s love.
“what’s going on here then?” Derek said with a look of faux concern.
“oh it’s teeerible, sir! Look at his nu nu stick!” Billie played along with acting quality so bad that she made 70s pornstars look like Anthony Hopkins.
“oh dear! Yes, I see… It’s ROTTEN!” Derek declared loudly while pointing his finger at the wart coated and pus stained little meat raisin.
“Wat?! Wotten! Nu nu nu!” Ralph panicked, all the while, dancing harder and faster to alleviate himself of the rapidly mounting stress.
Mandy watched from the distance and had decided that she wasn’t going to let Billie get away with a quick win. And besides, the veterinarian needed a new enfie-pal for Creature since the last one drowned in the double dicked bowl fluffy’s torrential loads of baby batter.
“a shame, I think I’m going to have to cut it off!” Mandy interrupt with a well rehearsed tone of concern, as she joined her boss and colleague at the front of the fence.
“NUUUUU! SCREEE! NU TAYK NU-NU STICKIE WAY! AM GUD FWUFFY! HUHUHUU…” the fat talking hemorrhoid screamed in fear.
“well I suppose we could treat it without removing it” Mandy theorised out loud to her coworkers with a shrug, “but he’d have to lose weight” she added with a slight snicker.
Forty minutes later found Mandy and Billie facing off against each other and the crowd of abusers that gathered behind them.
All of them were bombarding verbal assaults at the terrified creature as he bobbed about in an exhausted state, still dancing, still fighting the inevitable.
Ralph couldn’t even hear his own sobbing anymore, not against the never ending deluge of “kill yourself”, “fat ugly bastard!”, “rotten cock!” and “everyone hates you!”. The singular voices had become a mad chorus of screaming and threats, the noise and words were barely distinguishable, now just an audible wall of white hot hate and blood thirsty malice.
Mandy wanted a new bike and so started taking bets on when Ralph would break.
Eventually the crowd joined in collective unison and brought their finest football hooligan spirit as they conjoined their efforts in the form of song.
“
WHO ATE ALL THE PIES? WHO ATE ALL THE PIES? YOU, FAT BASTARD! YOU, FAT BASTARD! YOU AT ALL THE PIIIIEEES!”
“p-pwease s-stawp! Nu wike dis songie!” Ralph begged, all the while trying so desperately to win back the crowd’s love.
“WHO’S A LITTLE FATTY FUCK? YOU, YOU! WHO’S A LITTLE FATTY FUCK? OINK OINK OINK!”
“NU AM PIGGIE! HOCK-HOCK AM FWUFFY!” Ralph protested, gagging on his own snot mid sentence.
“could have fooled me!” Mandy heckled, backed by the humorous elation of Ralph’s audience.
“Nu! Stawp waghin! Stop wagh-…” the chubbalicious freakshow groaned before pain erupted through his body, the unmistakable noise of snapping bones filling the air and bringing the crowd to silence.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Ralph exploded into a fit of shitting everywhere and flailing about as his hind legs had just given way and crumbled beneath his gargantuan mass, “WOWSTEST HEWTIES! NU-HOOMIN WUV WAWF NU MOWE! NU AM PWETTY NU MOWE! AM FATTIE! NU NU STICK HAB WOWSTEST HUWTIES! AM WOWSTEST FATTY! WAN DIE! WAN DIE!” he sobbed and screamed as he hyperventilated and tantrumed into the dirt with which she was equal to.
“right on cue…” Mandy smirked as she checked and then snapped shut her Dad’s old pocket watch.
The mischievous veterinarian went home that night with enough money to buy herself a new motorbike and any fluffy of her choosing. In the end she decided to playfully rub her victory in Billie’s face and select Ralph himself… That’d be the last time Ralph would ever win a single thing in his miserable existence.
It was easy work prepping him for his new job since his legs where already borderline vestigial and the two in the back had already broken to splinters, his teeth were already near rotted away due to his high sugary diet from eating spaghetti bolognese every day and his tail wouldn’t even be missed since the talking meat muffin hadn’t seen it since the start of the year. Mandy didn’t worry too much about the STDs that Ralph had after she lobbed his cock off and started giving him the same medication she gave Creature.
In the end Mandy even decided to give Creature a blue ribbon for being the best little hunchbacked rapist in show… but Ralph wasn’t left out, he got a new ribbon all to himself.
It was the happiest of times, it was the best of times.
And Ralph was still a fat cunt…
-the end-
