“Sir! They’re going to be wearing our SKIN if we try selling these! I need this job but…” A year had passed and Fluffmart was trying it’s hand at Pride Month. Again. After what had transpired last year it was difficult to believe they’d ever be misguided or just plain idiotic to repeat the same mistake. Truth is, it was worse. Far worse.
A year might have passed but here he was with the same go nowhere job. The same manager. Things had largely been going fine enough since the forced gay fluffy incident, but he knew he’d be lucky to make it out of the parking lot if the public got a good look at these things. Abominations. That’s what they were.
“Huu…nuu…tummy huwties…” A stallion with a distended stomach pitched himself down in a glass pen filled with wood shavings for litter. The poor blue & red unicorn looked to Jason with pained eyes. He’d read the product description. This had to be watched. Just to make sure.
“D-Don’t force it, dude. Just uhh…” Oh God, it was really happening. Face shoved down into the litter, the stallion wept as he was attempting to pass something far larger than should be possible through his ass. Jason watched in horrid fascination as the flesh stretched, gaped slightly open. Just barely, a brown hoof peeked out from within.
“Nuu-huu-huu…HUWTIES! POOPIE PWACE HUWTIES!” Screeching, the stallion released his payload against the glass of his enclosure. Turds hit the walls along with objects which were slightly colorful, at least in some places. No, oh no, Jesus. Jason felt his lunch rising to his throat as he watched some of the larger chunks begin to move, albeit it weakly, and then peep. Pitching down to a trashcan near the cash register, he watched as that morning’s breakfast burrito was brought right back up in a stinking mess.
His manager had lifted up the lid to the enclosure and began scrubbing off the chirpies. The chirpies that had just come straight out of an asshole. “You’re really lacking that Fluffmart ‘can-do’ attitude today, Jason. I’d hate to give a write-up. You might miss the special pizza party I’ve been planning for months.” Jason looked up bleary-eyed from the trashcan as his manager began working a harness onto the stallion who’d just gave birth. Said harness had rubber teats filled with foal formula that notched over the fluffy’s abdomen, the actual poopie chirpies scrambling over to latch on.
“Kiww…Stawsky…” Begging to both of them, the fluffy realized what an abominable thing had just occurred.
+++++++++
These were ‘Miracle Stallions’. The mad scientists over at Hasbio had really outdone themselves with this one. Stallions that could become pregnant and give birth. Produce and give milk? No, no. You needed to buy the add-ons for your little bundles of joy.
Jason didn’t know exactly how they got pregnant and he didn’t want to think too much about it. All he knew was this: Their assholes were the fetid incubation chamber for some of the unluckiest chirpies the world had ever seen since fluffies had existed.
“How? How in the WORLD does this even relate to pride month? It’s sick! It’s twisted! DUDE, LOOK!” Jason pointed out to another one of the glass display cases where a tan & white stallion had just had an ass explosion in the litterbox. Mostly in the litterbox. It looked as if a diarrhea bomb had just gone off, most akin to a dye bomb that bank tellers slipped into bags of money. The stallion had scooted off to a corner of his exhibit, dragging his bleeding ass against the floor.
“HEWP FWUFFY! POOPIES AM AWIBE! SU SCAWDIES! HEWWWWP!” The chirpies which were moving eagerly through the litterbox were in search of milk of course. All the lil tan dude saw was poopies come alive. Perhaps in pursuit of blood.
Flipping open the display case and giving the chirpies inside the same cleaning as well as fitting a nursing harness onto the stallion, the manager gave Jason a cutting glare. “It’s 2024. You need to move past your biases and accept that the world has moved on from your preconceptions.” Grabbing a sorry-stick from a loop on his belt, he leaned down and swatted the stallion who’d just given birth mercilessly.
“You!” SMACK
“Will!” CRACK
“SING!” SNAP
“THE!” WHOMP
“MUMMMAH SONG!” The stallion was left bloodied by the assault, his attacker lifting up chirpies and placing them at the rubber tears.
What could he do? He was named Oliver. Just a normal fluffy who’d gone under some seriously freaky experiments at some Hasbio production facility. Not anything that he remembered, not anything that he understand. Oliver looked down to the smelly chirpies who were clustered all over his fake titties. Began crying even harder.
“Daddeh…” Another whipping to the top of his head, splitting open one of his ears. “MUMMAH. MUMMAH WUB BABBEHS, BABBEHS WUB M-MUMMAH….” Weeping so hard that mucus ran freely from his nose, but the manager was happy with this even if the fluffy was too distressed to continue singing. He’d learned his lesson for now.
++++++
Just an hour away from opening. The stench of poopies hung heavy in the air as well as the enthusiastic chirping of newborn fluffies. Jason sat down on top of a bag of kibble which advertised itself as being ‘LGBTQ+ flavored’, whatever the fuck that meant. What could he do? Really at this point it could just be a point of leaving. Fuck this place. He wasn’t a monster though.
Those fluffies who’d just wrecked their asses giving birth deserved to have a better ending than this. Even the weakest fluffy in an alleyway had some kind of identity. Something which they could cling to in desperation. No food? No home? No love? At least they knew where they stood in the world. The smallest bit of charity: Not shooting babies from their ass.
“Burger King. That’s where I’ll go. Sure, they had a problem with that homeless guy coming in and jizzing on people but…this is worse.” Yes, Burger King. What a paradise that looked like right now. Have it your way at BK, and hopefully avoid affronts to God.
Looking off to the side he made sure his manager was gone. Over in the back office, no doubt poring over sales brochures and becoming even more acquainted with the information within before the doors opened. Crossing both hands behind his back, he made a beeline to the inventory area. Normally the incinerator wouldn’t be burning until closing. When there were ‘broken products’ to destroy. Taking a deep breath, he got it going and felt the heat. Reassuring.
Out to the sales floor once more. Going to the register, he took a large adoption box and put it together. Rainbows with lots of happy slogans and smiley cartoon fluffy faces. One, two, three…enough boxes were assembled to meet his expectations. Now over to Starsky, the red fluffy who’d caused him to vomit earlier. Lifting the stallion up, the chirpies remained affixed to the teats on the harness with dogged preservation.
“Dude, Starsky right? I’m sorry. I didn’t want any of this shit to happen.” Walking to the stockroom, box held under one arm. Starsky looked up to Jason with tears in his eyes.
“Nu am mawe. Wan die naow.” That was it. Enough of a declaration for him. Did the chirpies deserve this? Maybe not depending on how you looked at it but Jason was of the opinion that a fluffy that started out as an actual poopie wasn’t going far in life.
Wincing back from the incinerator as he jerked it open and peered at the flames inside, he shoved the entire box and it’s occupants into the inferno. Luckily, these things were quite soundproofed. Of course they had to be. The public didn’t need to hear them wailing away.
Out back front, snatching Oliver and his newborns up.
“Wry daddehs an’ mummahs do dis tu fwuffy? Fwuffy am gud fwuffy. Nu wan be mummah. Huuhuuhuu…omwy wub pway an’ wun an’ skettis.” Yeah, yeah Jason knew that. A good fluffy. Just wanting to live a normal life.
“It’s OK, dude. It’s OK. Close your eyes. You’ll, uhh…be in Skettiland soon.” Jason’s grip tightened against the box as he neared the furnace. Oliver closed his eyes tiredly and tucked his hooves in slightly.
“Skettiwand? Aw ‘da skettis ‘an fwendsies…wub.” Flinging the furnace open and slamming the box inside before he could let out a screech, he slammed it shut. His manager couldn’t know what was going on until the last one was gone.
Marching out to the sales floor and grabbing the last box from it’s place near the register, he got to the remaining ‘Miracle Stallion’. Purple and orange, a cowlick of fluff at the top of his head.
“Pwease mistuh nice daddeh. Nu wan be wike obeh stawwion. Nu pwease. Nu wan poopie pwace huwties. Nu am mawe?” Yeah, he hadn’t popped yet. Jason could see his stomach writhe and slosh around though. Definitely close to erupting and losing what little a stallion had in this world. Gently scooping the fluffy up, the Fluffmart employee gave a shake of his head.
“Not on my watch. You’re going to Skettiland. Alright?” A good way to calm them down. Staring up to him, the fluffy whimpered a bit.
“…Fowebbah sweepies. Otay. Dwagon am weady.” Accepting his fate. Perhaps because, well, he knew what was going to happen otherwise: The worst poopie place huwties he could imagine and a greater humiliation afterwards.
Jason neared the incinerator. Looked down to Dragon.
“It’s like going to sleep. I, uhh, heard.” Maybe if you actually died in your sleep. Burning alive? A bit different.
Dragon gave a winding fart and shifted against the box he was in, eyes closing with determination. “Nu am mawe.” Was all he said, Jason feeling slightly impressed by this whole thing. Goddamn. Flinging the furnace open and shoving the fluffy inside, he closed it just as soon.
Jason might not have been able to see it, or hear it, but there was Hell going on in that chamber. Dragon landed against the still burning remains of his brethren, breathed in the charred remains of their bodies. Fluffies sure could burn fast. His hooves began to melt first, puddling out against the impressively hot metal underneath him. Mane and tail caught up with flames, wisps of it curling over the poor creature. The pain and fear of it all caused him to have the wowstest poopies imaginable but that was barely even realized through the experience of being immolated. Shit fanned out behind him and immediately charred, his chirpies spattering against the superheated walls. They gave several terrified peeps. What little they knew of the world was searing pain before they finally swelled up and exploded with small spatters of blood.
Dragon was at least dying. No matter how slowly. He wasn’t a mare: He was a big boy stallion and nobody could take that from him.
+++++++
“Jason! You’re the new guy and you’re on janitorial duty. Someone went in the women’s washroom and shitted all up in it. Goddamn.” A mop and bucket was thrust at Jason, all decked out in his garish new Burger King uniform.
“I’m on it, boss!” He was a good employee. Shit? He’d worked at a Fluffmart. This was nothing. Before he could turn to leave, he felt a hand clap down on his shoulder.
“Oh, and hey. I heard about what happened at your old place. You have my guarantee that Burger King has a higher standard than any Fluffmart.”
Jason was sure of that. One thing still nagged him:
What the fuck did any of that have to do with pride month?
