Despair - Chapter 3 (Bluemoon)

In the beginning, you never really looked at Fluffies as a viable option for a companion. They made great stress relieving toys, but nothing else. The only thing that changed your mind about it was looking through the internet. Apparently, if you work on them at a young age, you can create the perfect companion. Only abusers really understand the level of attention and work that it will take to twist a Fluffy into the perfect pet. After all, you need to utterly shatter their self-esteem. Destroy them and rebuild them from scratch. Something that a hugboxer would never try to do. After all, they think that discipline and love can mold them the perfect pet. That’s fucking rich. Your gaze shifted over the little sleeping pair, curled up together in the small plastic pet bed. It felt like a good enough time to consider neutering them. Or at least, neuter Lee. Every day, you think more on selling Noah, and every day you reconsider the idea after watching the pair. Some people like having two pets. Their unique personalities, the way they interact with you and each other, and the fact that they can entertain each other is a good selling point. As much as you want all their attention on you, the thought of being able to leave them alone is a good selling point. Not to mention, you can take turns with them. One to love, one to abuse, and you swap.

And that was the best part. Physical abuse doesn’t have that same bite to it that psychological abuse does. Not to mention, it quickly vilifies you in the eyes of your pet, and when they start to view you as a “munstah”, well… They learn to steel themselves against your abuse, they learn to tolerate it, and that’s the moment where the fun turns to work and it just stops becoming worth the effort. Abuse is all about love, and how to manipulate that love so they suffer just from the absence of your attention. Lee used to be small enough for you to hold him within the palm of your hand, but now he’s got some weight to him. Noah seems to be the stronger of the pair. And larger. Although, it didn’t match to his emotional level.

Lee quickly woke up, sitting back so he can push his upper body up to hug you as well as he could, “Daddeh! Wee miss daddeh!”

On the other hand, Noah woke up from the abrupt absense of his companion, tears filling his eyes, “Daddeh! Noah wan huggies tu!”

You reach down, and just gave his nose a firm tap with your index and middle finger. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt him, but the action elected a sharp peep followed by him covering the offended area with both hooves. “Wai daddeh huwt Noah?”

“Wait for your turn. Lee gets first huggies, you know that.”

“Nu! Noah wan fiwst huggies! Wee don’ nee’ huggies! Noah du!”

That earned him another firm tap on the snout, he squealed in confusion, holding his nose again. It’s the small things that seem to hurt the most. “Good babies wait for their turn. Don’t be mean to your brother either. Do you want to go into the sorry box?”

Those two words quickly became the most dreaded things in the world for both brothers. Noah’s eyes widen in sheer horror, you’ve done well to make something so simple into a terrifying monster. After all, they get all the scariest things that a Fluffy dread. Darkness, monsters, no love or huggies from daddy, and only bad fluffies get put in sorry boxes. The thought of being a bad fluffy just instinctively terrifies any normal fluffy. Even Lee, he got none of the abuse and none of this was directed to him, but he started to tear up at the thought of the sorry box. Letting out little coos from your hug, he was quickly soothed, but Noah just suckled on his hoove silently. It took a few minutes, but you sat Lee in the litterbox with a big smile on your face, “Now, make good poopies and we’ll all watch some stuff together as a family.”

“Otay daddeh! Wee wub daddeh!”

You went to Noah, carefully picked him up and held him in your arms, he sobbed heavily in your hug, his face pressed firmly against your chest. Desperately hugging you with all his might, “Noah sowwy. Noah so so sowwy. Pwease wub Noah, daddeh.”

“I love you. I love both of you dearly. You are my fluffies.”

His little body trembled from your touch, wings quivering with joy, little coos leaving him with each breath. Naturally, you gave him less time with your hug than Lee, but they didn’t know that. Taking him over to the litterbox, he was placed next to Lee who was already finishing up, “Daddeh! Wee made good poopies and peepees.”

“My little Lee. You ready?”

You took him into your arms, they were old enough for kibble, and naturally that did help with making sure that they produced less messy loads. A nice fiber blend that seemed to help bind everything up. You didn’t bother saying anything more to Noah, he was left to sit in the litterbox and he quickly began to huu to himself. He didn’t need to be carried over to the litterbox, and he was already strong enough to walk on his own, but that became a constant complaint of his. Why does Lee get to be carried around, and Noah doesn’t?

“Daddeh! Noah wan’ upsies!”

“Make good poopies and then you can come with us.”

“Nu! Noah wan’ upsies! Nu nee’ make poopies!”

“Noah, you know why Lee gets to be carried around. He doesn’t have all his legs. He needs help. You have all your legs.”

With that, you left him. The two of you going into the living room, Lee got to rest on your lap as you went to turn on the TV. One thing that you quickly made sure of was that they never got to see any FluffTV. It spurns fluffies to desire things that are detrimental to their owners, it brings feelings and desires that just drive fluffies to act less on the interests of their owners and more for themselves. True, it can be a great blessing for parents that need to keep a fluffy’s attention, even teach them without their input. Lee loved the shows that you put on though. They both had their own favorites. You made sure to show them shows that you grew up with.

Lee loves Scooby-Doo, he also loves Animaniacs. There are even some episodes that the two of you both enjoyed equally. Noah on the other hand found Scooby-Doo to be boring, something you agreed on, but you loved how invested that Lee would get watching these mystery cartoons. Noah preferred Tom and Jerry, he also loved Mickey Mouse and Disney cartoons. They had rare moments where they enjoyed the same show, but they had their own respective interests that didn’t seem to meet up. Of course, you had more mature interests that you kept to yourself with your laptop. Nothing sexual, but you enjoyed things that would upset a fluffy.

Unlike Noah, Lee hates the sight of violence, he hates seeing people or animals getting hurt. He is quick to turn to you in distress when its Noah’s turn to watch some cartoons, crying out “Is kitteh otay? Daddeh, wai mousie-fwien’ huwt kitteh-fwien’?” It might be a reaction that came from being hurt so much, he cannot remember the experience. You asked him once if he remembered having hindlegs, and he couldn’t answer. He never even remembered that it was you that took them away. Even so, his empathy is something that you felt might be admirable. Lee held your hand with his two hooves, he took your left hand and cradled it close. Nuzzling it while watching cartoons, resting his cheek upon the back, cooing gently while his eyes fixate on the screen.

A few minutes pass, and Noah waddles out, he gazes over at the TV for a moment and then at the two of us. Climbing onto the couch isn’t an easy task. Impossible for foals, and a challenge for adults. He struggles to climb up, whining softly as he complains, “Daddeh, Noah wan’ upsies! Daddeh!”

You say nothing in response. Lee reacts, he pulls himself over towards the edge, peeking over with a concerned look on his face, “Daddeh, Noah wan’ upsies. He hab saddies.”

The way he looks up at you, his concerned expression, the worried look on his face. It’s adorable. “Okay, give daddy a minute.”

He waits patiently, unlike his brother who is still crying out for upsies. The impatient foal, sitting back with his hooves raised up for attention. Placing the computer aside, you knelt forward to take him into your hands. The act of picking him up, he seemed to shiver with happiness, and then you heard some wet plops. His eyes widened in horror, and Lee covered his face. He knew what this meant, “Noah made bad poopsies.”

“Noah… why didn’t you use the litterbox when you had the chance?”

There was silence, he couldn’t respond to you. Your expression must have terrified him further, because more shit just poured out of his rear without any warning. Solid, but messy nonetheless. You got up from the couch, still holding him away like a baby that has a shitty diaper. Carrying him with you, there was only one place that you had in mind to take him. And he knew what that place was, “NU! DADDEH! FWUFFEH NU MEAN TO MAKE BAD POOPSIES!”

Something you learned early, the moment they stop using their name means their words aren’t sincere. They’re lying, and they’re being bad for not using the name that you gave them. A psychological distancing tactic that some have.

“Why aren’t you using the name that I lovingly gave you? Are you lying to daddy? Do you really not love me? Lies are the worst thing a fluffy can say to their daddy.”

The eerie calmness in your voice, everything just terrified him more. You took him into the bedroom, threw the closet door open, and kicked the lid up from the makeshift sorry box. Looking into his fearful eyes, you sighed to yourself, “I’m disappointed in you, Noah. I guess you’re a terrible fluffy.”

“Nu! Pwease daddeh! Noah sowwy!”

“I guess this is the only place for you now. Until you learn how to be a better fluffy.”

Saying that, you dropped him into the container, not high enough to shatter his little bones, but enough that he let out a loud cry of pain. He rolled onto his side, staring up at you as you pulled the lid over his box, “NU! DADDEH!”

Shutting it was one thing, but you went about setting up something truly horrible in your spare time. A little speaker placed next to it, you had the option to play any sound you want. In this case, you went with the loud sounds of fluffies being killed. Screams, cries of pain, the soft crunching of bones and tear of flesh. It was a product of labor and love. Things that were found online, downloaded into an MP3 file and stored into an MP3 player that’s hooked to the speaker. Volume isn’t a hard thing either, just needs to be loud enough for Noah to hear. Not loud enough that it has to be annoying.

“Goodbye, Noah.”

With a loud slam, you left him to scream and sob in his hell. Noises that quickly faded away as you left the bedroom and went back to Lee. Resting his face on his front hooves, he gave you a distressed look, “Daddeh, whewe is Noah?”

“In the sorry box. Don’t worry. He’ll be a better fluffy when he comes out. Let’s clean up his mess.”

He couldn’t do much to help, but he was moral support if anything else. Some paper towels, and cleaner helped remove all trace that Noah ever had an accident at all. One of the benefits of all wooden flooring. You never saw the point of carpeting. Especially with pets. Taking a seat with your companion, Lee quickly moved back to your side and clung onto your hand. You figured that two hours of the sorry box would be enough, the MP3 player had enough battery life for longer to be honest. The cartoons ended on TV, and it just became you and Lee. Setting things aside, you lay on the couch, settling Lee down on your chest as you try to get comfortable. He looks up happily at you, smiling as he cuddles against your chest.

You’re Noah, and you’ve been a bad fluffy. Daddy always told you that bad fluffies get no love, huggies, and they get the sorry box where monsters live. Naturally, you never wanted to go there. You really didn’t mean to make poopies, you didn’t feel like you needed to, but your poopie place didn’t listen to you. You got so excited that… it all came out. And now, you’re in a terrible place. So dark that you can’t see your little hooves, and the monsters. You could hear them. No, you really couldn’t. You could hear what they’re doing though. There were other fluffies in here with you. You couldn’t see them, or feel them, but you could hear them. And it was horrible.


The first sound that caught your ears, the sharp squeal of a fluffy in pain, she let out loud huuhuus, sobbing to herself while you tried to find where she was. Just outside the sorry box from the sounds of things.

“It otay… it otay, tummeh-babbehs. Mummah wiww nebah wet babbehs get owwies.”

A soon-mummah? Why is she in here, who would want to hurt a soon-mummah? You became worried, placing your hooves on the walls of your sorry box, “Pwease, soon-mummah hewp Noah!”

She didn’t listen to him, only fixated on her own suffering, was she a bad mummah? She must be, because she’s here too. Her voice returned, quivering, “Nice mistah, hewp fwuffeh. Am soon-mummah, nee’ wub an’ skettis fow miwkies fo’ babbehs.”

Did daddy come back? Is he going to save them?


He heard something sickening, a loud crack of something that hurt your ears, making you cover your face in terror. She let out horrible screams, you didn’t know what the scary person is doing to her. All you knew was that she wouldn’t stop screaming, the loud breaking of bones, something wet splattering on the ground, and her screams devolving into horrible wretched sobs. Little peeps, her weak voice quivering out, “Tu soon fo’ tummeh-babbehs tu weave mummah. Pwease…”

Her voice faltering, she fell silent, the only new sounds now the soft chirps of newborns. Chirps that quickly turn into loud high-pitched shrieks of agony, the sound of bones breaking, wet dripping of liquid, visceral crunching and screams that you’ve never heard before. Noises that you wish to never hear again. All you can do is cry, curled against the corner of the sorrybox, sobbing as you whimper out pitifully.

“Daddeh… sabe Noah… pwease.”

Each scream that entered your ears just got worse, the monsters hurting them gave them the worst hurties and you knew that they are getting forever sleepies. When the monster is done with them, you know that they’ll be coming after you next. There’s nothing that can be done. Daddy hates you. Daddy hates bad fluffies. Oh god, you’re a bad fluffy. It keeps coming back to that, tears pouring freely from your eyes, letting out soft chirps of distress as the squeals of pain turn into horrible screams that you never thought a fluffy could make.

It’s easy for time to just pass on by, going from video games to your computer again, Lee playing quietly with his blocks that you put up on the couch with him. He couldn’t do much, barely able to put one on top of the other, and then… he can’t go beyond that. It’s amazing enough as is that he’s able to get that far. You moved close to him, lettng him be able to see what you’re doing on the computer. He loves the music that you play on there. Fortunately, you made sure that he’s not seeing anything terrible. You’re in a good mood. So you went to the cute and cuddly animals side of the internet so he can just drown in the overly affectionate side of the internet.

He never called any of the things that he saw “monsters”. Kittens, puppies, birds, and the like are all sweetly treated as things of amazement. Lee cuddled close to you, he let out a loud yawn and tried to get comfortable. “Wee weady fo’ sweepies.”

“Okay, let me get your bed and we’ll get you set up.”

“Is Noah gonna sweep wit’ Wee?”

“No, he’s going to stay in there for a while longer.”

“It been many fowebahs, Wee miss Noah.”

You sighed, cradling the little fluffy’s cheek with your hand, “How about this, I’ll check to see if he’s a better fluffy. If he’s good again, I’ll take him out.”

“Otay, Wee wub daddeh.”

Walking back to the bedroom, your first action was to take the bedding, walking over towards the closet, you paused. It’s been three hours. An hour longer than you intended to hold him in there, but a slight grin crept over your lips. Opening the door, you are greeted by the terrible sounds of fluffy death and torture. Turning off the speaker, all that’s left is the soft sobs and huuhuus of a completely shattered heart.


“Daddeh! peep Pwease! Pwease sabe Noah! chirp

He’s regressed a little back into peeping, you popped the lid open and the strong aroma of piss and shit filled the air. He couldn’t hold it in, a little puddle underneath his body, saturating his fluff with terrible aromas. A pile of feces under his rear, he didn’t move anywhere. Just collapsing under his own waste and huddled into a little ball. You set down the bedding, staring at his pitiful form with a disgusted look, “I told you to use the litterbox, Noah. I told you to not make bad poop… Fuck it, I’m too annoyed for words. You shit on my floor. You shit in the sorry box, and have the audacity to beg for me to save you. You’re a fucking waste of space. What am I supposed to do with a bad fluffy like you?”

All these words cut deep into his wounded heart, he couldn’t bear to look up at you anymore. Just laying down with his hoof in his mouth, suckling on the filth covered limb, whimpering pitifully out for love. You took him out of the sorry box, holding him by the nape of his neck, he squealed out in discomfort and pain, “Bad upsies! peep! Sabe babbeh!”

“You’re not going out into the living room smelling like shit and piss. I’m cleaning you up.”

There was nothing gentle about your approach, you pulled him into the bathroom, filled the sink with slightly hot water. Hot enough that it would hurt him, but not really cause lasting harm. Although, leaving him in it would eventually result in heatstroke. You just went to work cleaning him up, using regular soap which burnt his eyes, making him cry further in discomfort. Your rough hands working out the feces and piss from his fluff, cleaning him thoroughly, and you used a nice lavender soap to help make him smell nice. Eventually, you finished, draining out the water and got a towel. He can barely stand, his eyes red and inflamed, drying him off was not gentle either.

It ended though, your attitude towards him becoming much more warmer when he finally dried off and smelled so nice. Immediately, you picked him up in a much gentler way, cradling the fluffy while he sobbed into his hooves, “There, there. Are you sorry for what you did?”

“Noah is. chirp Noah wub daddeh.”

He still quivered within your hold, staring up at you with a pitiful expression, “What did you do to deserve this?”

“Noah… Noah made bad poopies in da wiving woom an’ Noah made mowe bad poopies and peepees in da sowwy box. Noah nu wisten tu daddeh eddah. Noah bad fwuffeh. Wowstest fwuffeh ebah.”

“That’s the first step. Admit your faults. Admit that you are a bad fluffy. But bad fluffies can be good fluffies. If you really mean it.”

“Noah mean it. Noah nu wan’ be a bad fwuffeh.”

“Then listen to daddy. Always listen to daddy, and love him. Next time, you might be eaten by the monsters in the sorry box.”

He trembled in your arms, those words terrified him so much, hearing the sounds that those other fluffies made. They left their mark. You got the bedding, and carried both him and it with you into the living room. Instantly, Lee let out a happy cry, “Noah!”


The two hugged each other, Noah sobbing into his brother’s emerald green fluff. You set up their bed for the two of them, making sure that they got comfortable, and then you went back into the bedroom to take care of the mess that he left. It had to be cleaned out in the yard, you weren’t going to subject your bathtub to that level of abuse. The two were just too happy together, Lee licking his brother’s fluff and happily cooing. He thought that Noah smelled amazing, Noah was just happy to be getting affection. The two of them almost looked harmonious together. A perfect pair, you couldn’t help grinning. They really are the best pair. Able to satiate your need for love and abuse.

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 4
Chapter 5 (Bad End)
Chapter 5B (Alternative Path)


well worth the wait and well written as expected. good stuff.


i like this a lot, i kinda feel like i’ve missed so much without the booru, but at the same time it’s nice to see people improving their art ( as in images and texts posts )


Good shit. Part 4 can’t come soon enough!

I hereby humbly beg you for another chapter of this masterpiece.