“Fluffstel”
By Solidus.
Author’s note:
So……6th August is actually my birthday! And being the magnanimous son of a bitch I am, I’m giving you diseased fucks a gift. You’re welcome.
Part One: Special Treatment.
“Special Foals Special, half off all session prices!”
David looked at the email and pondered it. On one hand, torturing and killing SBS foals was easily some of the most fun an abuser could have. On the other, the price was still hovering around 500 dollars American. This was the abuse equivalent of a veal dinner.
And then his eye wandered to the body text of the ad
“2 Foals per customer, while supplies last, mother present, call for reservation!”
That did it. 2 for half off, and the mummah would be there?
David picked up the phone, and dialed the number.
“Fluffstel, how can we help you?”
“Do you still have the Sensitive Foals on special?”
“Barely, but we do, would you like to reserve a session?”
“I’d love to.”
“Name?”
“David Parsons. Could you convince the Mare that I’m adopting the family?”
“We absolutely can, sir! It’s be a pleasure. You wanna pay now, or on arrival?”
“On arrival.”
“Okay……last question, any preference for color, sex, type?”
“Not really, anything will do.”
“Can do, I’ll find you some good ones. Will tomorrow at 11AM work for you?”
“It will.”
“We’ll see you then.”
— — — —
The building itself was a nondescript looking place, an old warehouse complex on some docks that had been retrofitted into a fluffy abuse center.
“Welcome to Fluffstel, how can we help you today, sir?”
“I have a reservation. David Parsons, 2 Special foals and a mare?”
The man behind the desk looked at a computer monitor and typed something in.
“Yes, I have you here. Room 3, Second floor, you can take the stairs, here’s the key.”
“Before I do, I had a question, actually.”
“Oh?”
“How in the hell did you get so many Sensitives?”
“I don’t really understand it, but it’s something called CRISPR.”
“Weird. Wonder what that is.”
“No idea.”
David shrugged, and ascended the stairs. Room 3.
“Huuuhuu….No cwy speshul babbehs……Mummah am hewe, mummah wuv babbhes, babbehs wuv mummah….”
“CHEEP, PEEP CHIRP PEEP CHEE CHIRP!”
He flicked on the light. The room had a tile floor, cleaned, and a pen in the middle containing the fluffies. To the left of the pen was a table, and on the wall were all manner of tools and torture devices in endless sizes and varieties. Stun guns, soldering irons, blowtorches, razors, hammers, screws, sandpaper, electric clippers, pepper spray, sorry sticks, knives, chemicals of all types……It was a sadist’s playground.
“Eeek!”
“Hello there.”
The mare was a Mint green earthie, with large, sparkling eyes. She had a mane of a similar, but lighter color, with a poofy tail and puffy cheeks.
She’d have made an excellent pet.
The foals were huddled up to her, two fat little beanbags, One cherry red, a pegasus, and the other sunflower yellow, a unicorn.
“Hewwo nice mistah!” The mare said, quickly regaining her composure. “You am nyu daddeh?” she asked, looking up at him eagerly.
“…Yeah.” He said, holding back a smirk. Truthfully, she was well mannered enough that if she were in a pet store ,he’d have considered it.
But the fact she was in Fluffstel told him she belonged here for a reason. Their breeders were all problems in one way or another, there were no “good” fluffies here, aside the foals, but given they were sired from smarties, bad shitters, and bitch mares……well, apples don’t fall far from their trees.
“Mummah have speshul babbehs!” she said, lifting up the red baby. “Dis am Bestest babbeh, is chirpeh and awways gives bestest peepees and poopies when mummah sings fow babbeh!”
Ah, there it was.
The foal chirped and peeped, looking up at David with large, slightly crossed eyes. “What a retard.” he thought.
“How sweet!” He said, plastering on a fake smile, stepping into the pen, and kneeling down, petting the foal on the head. It was a male, he noted. “Aren’t you nice?” he asked, stroking it’s head. The baby squirmed and made discontented noises.
The retarded foal was smarter than it’s mother.
She set the bestest to her teat, and picked up the yellow one. “Dis am mummah’s Yewwow wingie babbeh. Is not as gud as bestest, but is awso senstibie, needs to be with mummah or has wowstest cwying.” The yellow baby chirped happily at David, and he extended a finger to it. It was a female, and took hold of his finger with her tiny hooves, snuggling it.
“Hi little lady, aren’t you sweet?” He asked. There was some actual warmth in there. He might keep this one, she seemed to actually be of a nice disposition, if still suffering SBS. He wasn’t sure though. That depending on how it would behave later on.
“Nice Mistah, you take fwuffies to nyu homsie nao?” The mare asked. “Wan go home with nyu daddeh!”
David smiled calmly.
“There’s just…. one thing.”
“Wat am dat?”
He picked up the red foal by the scruff, and stood up sharply.
“SCREEEEE!!! PEEPEEPEEEPCHEEEPCHIRP!!!”
“I’m not your fucking daddy, you bitch.”
“NYU! GIB BABBEH TO MUMMAH! MUMMAH NEED BABBEH, BABBEH AM SENSITIBE!”
David stepped out of the pen.
“Caaf! Caff!” The foal was coughing, choking as he held it by the scruff. He swung it back and forth. “Look at this little faggot. So fat it chokes on it’s own rolls. Fucking disgusting.” David said, shifting his grip to it’s midsection. The foal gasped for air and looked down in panic, waving it’s tiny hooves to it’s mother, chirping in panic.
David began to shake it like a soda can. “PEEPEEEPEPEPEPEPEPEPEEEEEEEEEEEP! HURK!”
The stupid little shitrat vomited, the puke landing in front of it’s mother.
“Babbeh make sickie wawas! Nice mistah, pwease gib babbeh back to mummah! Babbeh am scawdies and mummah have biggest heawt huwties!”
“I’m gonna name him. Your name….” He said turning the baby to look at him. “Is Little Faggot.”
“NYU GIB BABBEH MEANIE NAMSIE!!!”
“Shut the fuck up, you dumb pile of shit. I’m gonna hurt him. Badly. He’s gonna go forever sleepies today.” David said, walking to the torture table, and tossing the foal onto it.
“CHEEP!” It squeaked, already bruising as it was tossed to the table.
“BABBEH! NUUUUU!” the mare screamed, tapping her hoof on the floor, desperate to have her “bestest” back. She’d get him back, all right.
In pieces.
David looked over the selection of tools, holding onto the foal by it’s tail to keep it in place.
What to pick? So many choices……