@kitskel suggestion from the two sentence story idea thread
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“Nu am mawe! Daddeh! Nu! NU AM MAWE!” This was the screech of a rather portly purple & yellow stallion, an alicorn at that. Golden wings and horn that seemed to sparkle in the light. Oh sure you’d think this fluffy would be the talk of the town from appearances alone. So regal! Yet this little douchebag had a problem: He loved showing his dick and balls to just about everyone that came over. Now he claimed to be doing it because he loved dancies, and sure he’d do a shuffling side-step when showing his goods to the world. What kind of dancies made you pop a full on rod though? No, this stallion was just a sick fuck. Had to be.
“You listen to me, Royal, I spent a fuck ton of money on you. Way too much. and I’m sick and fucking tired of you showing all my visitors your disgusting genitals.” Yeah, even his own mother. Bryce had watched in shock when, after she’d walked into his house, Royal had taken it upon himself to climb on top of the sofa and shake his dick around like it was going out of style. Well joke was on him: Forcing a walker-using elderly woman to look at his wiener was sending him straight to PP removal town.
Looking up ‘Fluffy Neutering Services’ on his phone brought up several videos. The first one was from a really professional looking set-up that seemed promising.
“At Lovecreek we offer the top of the line care for your little fluffy guy when they need to have that ‘extra special’ operation done.” The video started, a nice young woman in a white doctor’s coat speaking in a gentle tone. As the commercial went on it showed all sorts of nice, clean facilities. Televisions on the walls in the operating rooms, lots of toys out in the lobby, and oh man they really offered all sorts of extra stuff. They could put fake testicles in your fluffy’s nutsack! Therapy sessions were a part of the aftercare process to help a gelding get over the fact that they wouldn’t be big boys anymore! Hell there was even a coffee bar. Bryce did think a nice cup of coffee would go down good as that little asshole was getting his bits lopped off.
“Daddeh? Dat sound nice.” Royal said hopefully. Mostly because right now there were a couple of fluffies giving testicalmonials about how it wasn’t so bad at all. No, in fact, it was great. They loved it! If you were going to get your tackle removed this was definitely the joint for it. Hold on though. They wanted MORE than $50?
Looking to Royal who seemed to now be accepting of the fact he’d be a wienerless freak soon, Bryce shook his head. “Too rich for my blood. Let’s…” Thinking for a moment, he added ‘budget’ to his search query. Only one result came up.
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The commercial currently playing on Bryce’s phone started with incredibly loud royalty-free rock music that hadn’t seen any sound mixing at all. A star wipe transition of a completely black screen brought the viewer to the man of the hour.
“Hey are you tired of your fluffy having a cock and balls? Or just balls? Me too. I hate it!” Rambled a man in a checkered sports coat and khakis, standing in front of a van. This particular fellow looked exactly like what your mind would sum up if you thought ‘car salesman on one of those suspicious lots on the outskirts of town’.
“At Dr. Fox’s Genital Removal Emporium, we’re cheap as heck! That’s all you people really care for, isn’t it!?” Cheesy green dollar signs were imposed over his eyes, whoever having edited the video not even bothering to get some that weren’t watermarked. A stock cash register ding played over and over again with such rapidity that it overlapped and played over itself to create a cascade of noise.
“We’re much more than that though! Are you tired of your fluffy whining about becoming a mare?” Bryce, interrupted from the video, looked down to Royal. Currently on the floor curled up in a ball complaining about becoming a mare.
“I guess I am, Dr. Fox!” He exclaimed at the commercial like a complete lunatic.
“WELL BRING THAT LITTLE BASTARD BACK HERE AND I’LL SHAKE HIM AROUND.” Dr. Fox screeched at the camera, the footage cutting to video of him enthusiastically throttling a stuffed fluffy toy. You know what? Bryce was impressed. But there was more.
Cutting back to Dr. Fox standing by his van once again, this time he was flanked by two of the most tired looking strippers in the county. They were wearing bikinis and one even had an ankle monitoring device. “Look at these women. They love Dr. Fox and by golly, you will too.”
One of the women looked up as the camera zoomed in on her haggard face. She opened her mouth to speak and then it immediately cut to Dr. Fox once more alone.
“Well what are you waiting for? I’m Dr. Fox in the van down by the river! Bring your fluffy over and enjoy a free fuckin’ hotdog while you wait!”
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You would think that finding a random van down by the river would be hard. What kind of directions were those? Yet Dr. Fox had apparently been flush with business and had invested in a giant inflatable gorilla holding two pool noodles which Bryce guessed had to be stand-ins for fluffy dicks.
Tires grinding on a gravel path leading up to the van parked by the riverbank, he’d look over to Royal who hadn’t stopped freaking the fuck out since leaving the house. Currently he was pinned up against the backseat jittering with fear.
“Daddeh, pwease dun wet meanie gowiwwa take Woyal’s nu-nus!” Huh. He knew the word for gorilla? FluffTV had actually TAUGHT a fluffy something, that had to be a miracle. Bryce chuckled and shook his head.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Royal. Gorillas live in Africa.” Reaching behind the center console he’d grab the stallion up by the scruff of his neck and pop out of the car.
Dr. Fox was already outside, standing next to a charcoal grill. Just like on the commercial he was in the same sports jacket and khakis, though there were no strippers. Bryce was slightly disappointed but what could you do? Upon realizing he had a visitor, Dr. Fox took a blackened hotdog off the grill and slapped it between a bun. Walking up to Bryce, he offered it out. The food was gladly accepted.
“Welcome to Dr. Fox’s Genital Removal Emporium! How the heck are ya? How about the wife and kids?” He blabbered out as if he knew Bryce. Bryce shrugged. No wife or kids. Didn’t matter. Dr. Fox reached out and squeezed Royal’s cheek.
“And this li’l guy? This is the patient?” Well what else would Bryce be here for? He gave a nod.
“Yeah. This is Royal. He’s a douche canoe and won’t stop showing everyone his pecker. My mother said ‘Good heavens’. That’s basically the old woman equivalent of ‘Ew what the fuck’.”
Giving a curt nod, Dr. Fox chuckled. “Well no problem. Royal, huh. We’ll turn this prince into a princess. How’s that?”
Royal gave a shake of his head. “Nu! Nu am pwincess! Am big boy!” Scrabbling his back hooves around and trying to bite his daddeh’s arm! His teeth did absolutely nothing though.
“Anyways, you want it to be quick? Or drawn-out? I’ll be honest with you, I’ve been practicing forbidden martial arts from the far east and could karate chop his dick and balls right off.” Dr. Fox mentioned with a look of complete sincerity on his face. Looking down to the little asshole biting his arm ineffectively, Bryce gave a small smile.
“Take your time, Dr. Take your time.”
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It was a real windy day down by the river. Bushes rattled around, trash flew down the banks, water sloshed around. Bryce had left Royal in the car of Dr. Fox while he sat around and ate hotdogs, the stallion being brought over to a small card table set up behind the van.
Slapping Royal down on his bank, he went to tie the fluffy’s limbs up with lengths of butchers twine. Whimpering as he was bound up, he tried wriggling around but found that it was extremely difficult to.
“Pwease nu take fwuffy nu-nus o’ wumps. Be nyu daddeh? Pwease? Woyal daddeh am meanies buh yew nice daddeh?”
Dr. Fox had heard just about everything when it came to stallions getting ‘the operation’. Some begged. Threatened. One had a dollar that he tried to bribe the good surgeon with. This was a holy crusade that Fox couldn’t be dissuaded from though. Moonwalking to the back door of his van, he flung the doors open and dove inside. Rummaged around for a moment, he popped out with a seemingly random piece of junk. It was a children’s kite from the Dollar Tree with a badly compressed image of Snoopy on it. Slightly bent in a few places but definitely still usable. Doing a jig and a jive back to Royal, he unwound the spool of line out from the little plastic grip. Did a quick mental measurement and got the proper amount unwound before cutting it off from the grip with a pocket knife.
“Wha dat? Fun toysie?” Royal queried before squealing in pain and surprise as Fox wound the kite’s line around the base of the fluffy’s pouchlike sheath. Tight. It needed to be. Giving a whistle, he tested the direction of the wind and hefted the kite before letting it fly up from his hands. Taking to the sky, it fluttered around and spun circles around the table. Fairly high up.
“OWWIES! SU BIGGES’ HUWTIES!” This pain was intense, wind kicking up with such force that it felt he’d be yanked right up off the table. Perhaps would have if it wasn’t for the fact he was tethered down on the table legs. Body jerking up with spastic tugs as the kite attempted to sail higher and higher, he felt his world and something else tear completely apart. Eyes widening, Royal watched with horrified eyes as the string finally cinched his pecker right off and sent the Snoopy kite fluttering across the sky. Finally unbound, it did crazy spins and went down across the river.
“NU-NU STICK! COME BACK!” Pleading with his peepee, watching as it left him. This was a fluffy’s worst nightmare. It wasn’t just wind anymore though. Storm clouds had gathered in the sky and a peal of lightning lit up the sky and struck the kite directly. Plastic was set on fire, the electricity surging through the kite string and causing his disembodied penis to burst into flames and seperate from the string. The fire immediately went out, the blackened and charred organ making it’s way down to the river. Maybe Royal could get it after it fell into the wawa but no! It fell directly into a duck’s waiting bill.
“NUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!” Royal wailed out in a sorrowful lament.
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That took care of the dick but what about the balls? Yeah those were still there and Dr. Fox was about to perform one of the greatest tricks the world had ever seen. Diving back into his van, he rolled back out and popped to his feet in front of the screaming, bleeding fluffy.
“Chin up, Royal. You still have your special lumps.” Fox pointed out to him. Hiccuping a bit, the fluffy gave a weak smile. That’s right. He did still have wumps!
“Dats wite…dank yew…” Just then, Dr. Fox pointed an index finger over and got excited.
“Holy Jesus! Is that acclaimed country music star, Linda Ronstadt!?” Now, a fluffy wouldn’t know who that was but it got them every time. Royal twisted his head to look, found nothing, and when he looked back he found that this meanie munstah of a man was standing over him holding two small purple objects.
“W-Wha am dat?” Asked in confusion, the fluffy whimpering. Twisting the objects around his fingers, Fox gave a sinister smile.
“Your special lumps. When you were looking for Missus Ronstadt, I nabbed ‘em right off you.” This trick required getting into a fluffy’s head. You needed to convince them that it was real. Otherwise it’d all go to shit and you’d look like a major jackass.
Royal gave a few blinks. “Wumps? Come back tu Woyal pwease.”
Using his four years of ventriloquism, Dr. Fox spoke in a reedy and grating high voice without moving his lips. “Hewp us! Wumps am scawed! Huuhuu nuuu!”
Now Royal was convinced! “WUMPS PWEASE WOYAL WAN YEW BACK!” Struggling against the twine binding him down, he’d cover himself and the table in a sheet of diarrhea.
The ‘wumps’ were nothing more than two purple Fruit Gushers. That’s all. Dr. Fox pierced both with ragged thumbnails, crushed them completely so that sugary syrup dribbled down onto the ground.
Fluffies were incredibly susceptible to the power of suggestion. You know, being gullible and all. Yet this the true calling card of a professional. What happened next was nothing short of a challenge to reality, the result of a mystical art honed by a man who truly loved his work.
Royal’s eyes flashed back in his head, rolling back and showing their whites. A warbling scream tore out of his throat, his furry body twitching from side to side. Just then, his balls exploded. That’s right, his entire sack was there one moment and the next it was a forceful splatter of blood, scraps of fur, and shreds of delicate flesh. Dr. Fox could have moved out of the splash zone. Yet he stood there and took the brunt of it, sports coat and face getting covered in speckles of gore.
He loved this job.
