In a post fluffy world, economic and social trends adjusted to meet new problems, and fulfill new desires. While they legally weren’t alive, the torture and abuse of fluffies still carried a stigma. As a result, companies that specialized in fluffy discipline appeared wherever fluffies were found.
Record capital investment and virtually zero percent interest rates allowed unlimited growth right until the world realized that fluffies were in a bubble. The average price of a fluffy went from hundreds of dollars to free, and hundreds of abuse centers found themselves being bought up and consolidated into two major entities. MiseriCorp and Cocytus Farms. This is the story of MiseriCorp.
“Doesn’t it ever wear on you?”
“Of course it does. No right-headed man could be around this much filth and misery without his mood souring. Why do you think we have aides?”
“Not my mood, I mean my soul, man! The things we do to them…”
“Are of no consequence. These are godless, loveless creatures; they would sooner drown their neighbor than get wet. A fluffy would rather gorge itself to immobility than give to those in need.”
“I mean I guess, but the screams they make sound bad enough to me.”
“Would you hesitate to cut grass because of the smell it gives off? Those screams aren’t coming from a thoughtful being; it’s a self-preservation mechanism, the reaction of biological machinery. It would scree if you twisted its leg off, and it would scree at a raincloud. What wears at me is the knowledge that it will never end. Humanity created these forsaken things, and there will always be a hugboxer somewhere with extant fluffies, even if we tried to completely eradicate them. Now it’s the duty of mankind to deal with this mistake, to force fluffies to bend the knee lest we get another Cleveland. But no matter how many we beat, starve, waterboard, drown, overfeed, isolate, overcrowd, shave, stab, slice, saw, burn or blind, there will always be more smarties!
There will always be more bitch mares. They won’t ever just be good. That’s what wears on me.”
The front door opens, giving a crystalline ring to announce a newcomer. The woman who steps into MiseriCorp is wearing finery. The base of her outfit is a brandless tailored dress, white and strapless and long. A mink coat drapes lazily over her shoulders, her hands are covered in a total of seven rings. She wears large brown sunglasses despite the overcast. Flanking her is a man of impeccable grooming, his tie matching the color of her earrings. His bulk supports a case which is unusually silent, considering the clientele at Misericorp. Deacon sits at attention as the woman approaches his desk.
“Good afternoon, how may I help you?”
“Well, I’m not really sure what’s the matter.” The woman huffed. “When I bought my dear Seraph she was the perfect pet, but now that she’s gotten a bit older she keeps… misbehaving in the most inappropriate ways.”
“What sorts of ways?”
At this the woman flushed behind her sunglasses. Deacon had seen this sort of reaction before, it was common in MiseriCorp’s clientele. People who could pay others to do their dirty work rarely had the stones to have uncomfortable conversations like these. But Deacon was a professional and he knew how to deal with it. He leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk in front of him, and adopted a reassuring smile.
“Yes, Mrs…” Deacon prompted.
“Ms. LeRoche, if you please.”
“Ms. LeRoche, I’m certain your fluffy has been acting in an outrageous manner, but I can assure you that I’ve witnessed the depths of fluffy misbehavior. Fluffies are quite cute, and affectionate, but they can be equally crass. Whatever’s the matter, you won’t find judgment here.” The client gave Deacon her trust, a look he had identified over long years, and took the seat in front of him.
The client’s full name was Viviana LeRoche. Heiress to her family’s precision-cutting fortune, the bachelorette had fallen victim to an insufferable loneliness, and had tried to cure it with a fluffy. On the eve of her realization, she had flown to the most sophisticated breeder in operation, on the banks of the Sacramento. There she was submitted to several questionnaires, an IQ test, a blood test, a chakra reading, psychoanalysis, and a Myers-Briggs Type Indicator test. After two years of selective breeding, and a little bit of luck, a masterpiece was born. Enter Seraph: a six-winged, purebred alicorn of above average intelligence. Monochrome pink, with genuine heart shaped eyebrows and white hearts on her flank, she was a “one-in-ten-million” mutation that prompted a price to make a lesser billionaire blanch. Each of her wings had a gradient, and were independently articulate. Her mane and tail progressed from light pink at the root, matching her coat, to almost Merlot at the tips. With a sparkling horn to boot. While Ms. LeRoche’s fluffy was extraordinary, her problem was actually very common; Seraph wanted enfies. Not babies, Ms. LeRoche didn’t report any incidents of her asking for “babbehs,” but she was clearly in heat and making a mess of every surface she tried to relieve herself on. This wasn’t terrible news, as she could make an excellent breeder, but she was only a month and a half old. One quarter of the recommended age to avoid bitch mare syndrome. It simply wasn’t the right time. So, Ms. LeRoche was going to buy some time, and Deacon would be the one to sell it to her.
The entire time they spoke, the large man behind Ms. LeRoche stood silently. The case, which no doubt contained Seraph, didn’t seem to weigh on him in the slightest. He kept his gaze forward, looking neither at his client nor the man she was speaking to; instead taking in all of his surroundings. The posture of a consummate professional. When they were finished, a gesture had him place the case on a provided cart, and Deacon was left with his newest, and potentially most lucrative, client. The obstacles would be numerous, this wasn’t a standard breeding operation and the psyche of the fluffy was to remain as untraumatized as possible. The same went for Seraph’s body. After all, this was the client’s beloved pet, not a disobedient broodmare. They also didn’t want them to not breed, they just didn’t want them to breed now. Her foals would sell for a fortune. In the name of caution, and billing by the hour, Deacon decided to acclimate his new charge and observe her behavior. Multipurpose room 2 was still bare, and time would be needed to prepare whatever Seraph needed to smooth out her wrinkles. In the meantime she would get a private safe room, complete with colorful walls and plentiful enrichment so she wasn’t just not bored, but happy. Deacon personally wheeled her to the quarantine pen, which is what the room normally served as. He set her case down without a word, noting again that there was little sound or movement from inside, and opened it.
The silence smeared itself upon the room. It furrowed Deacon’s brow. As far as he was aware, he had just released a bioengineered little crack monster that couldn’t help but shit, piss, and cry at all times. Any red-blooded fluffy would be fawning over the pretty colors, pretty blocks, pretty sparkly balls, or cuddling with the soft toys, and here was silence, coating him. Deacon could sense an alien presence within the crate. He decided to break convention and use a gentle approach.
“Hello there, my name is Deacon.”
Silence.
“Your name is Seraph, correct? Isn’t that funny, we both have names from the Lord. You don’t have to stay in there, you know. You can- oh, hello.”
Seraph calmly stepped out of her case, meeting Deacon’s eyes with a comprehension usually seen in smarty friends.
“Hewwo, my namesie am Sewaph.” She confirmed Deacon’s earlier question with a smile.
“Hi Seraph,” Deacon matched her beam. “I bet you’re wondering where you are, and why you’re here.”
The adolescent fluffy shook her head in the negative. “Mummah said dat Sewaph am a swut an’ hawwot. Nu knu what swut an hawwot am, bu’ mummah hab biggest angwies, teww Sewaph dat nice mistew gib fixies.”
This threw Deacon off his rhythm a bit. The standard issue fluffy had the reasoning skills of a fish, and self awareness that was a little bit worse. For one to not only register why its owner brought it here, but remember the insults it had been called? He had underestimated the black science that went into Seraph’s creation, and her alicorn status. Perhaps this would be easy? Normal fluffies were so nightmarish to train because their brains are dominated by making words, not understanding them. But this filly seemed to have a little more gray matter between the ears. Maybe the gentle touch was all that he needed.
“That’s right, I’m here to fix you right up. The first part of that is here; you just play with the blocks and balls and enjoy yourself. That’s all you have to do, ok?”
A nod.
“Excellent, I’ll leave you to it then.”
Seraph was alone, again. This wasn’t unusual, and normally it upset her, but right now there were other things to focus on. Instead of her usual safe room, with its pink walls, pink toys, pink bed, she was in a new colorful one! The walls were sooooo pretty, covered in pretty pictures of fluffies running and playing on a background of rainbow splotches. Her toys too! Everywhere she looked Seraph saw so much variety that it made her thinky place hurt. She remembered what the nice mister had said and dutifully played with everything she could get her hooves on. She chased the sparkly balls with fluffy grace. She stacked the blocks as high as she could reach, then she made a wall out of them. There were so many blocks, she was able to make one as big as she was! Seraph loved the blocks, loved the sparkly balls, which made pretty sounds when she tapped them. She loved stretching out her pretty wingies, feeling the air rush between them as she ran and ran. She held and cuddled and carried a few of the stuffy friends as the mood took her. After a few forevers she got tired and settled down on the nearby bed for a nap.
Upon waking there was a bit of confusion until Seraph remembered where she was. She looked around and saw the pretty walls, the pretty blocks and pretty balls, and when looking at the painted fluffies she got a feeling in her special place. It was a familiar feeling, one that she had been getting more and more, if she thought about it. Instinctually she shifted her body so that her special place pressed against the fleece of the bed. The sudden contact made her shudder for a second, before she came back to herself and ground her flank slightly downward.
“Ooooooooooooooh, gud feews!” She sighed.
She moved again, the shift sending another wave of good feels through her special place. She ground on the bed again, and again, each time enjoying the good feels. The more she moved, the more good the feels felt, and the better the feels, the more she moved. The good feels started to fill her up, taking over her thinky place, her leggies, even her mouth! Without meaning to, Seraph started panting, then moaning “gud feews” at regular intervals. She maintained her tempo, now so into the good feels that every movement was followed by a breathy “enf!” The good feels built like a wave, every second sending Seraph higher into the throes of ecstasy until her body convulses, rocked by a powerful fluffy orgasm.
“GUD FEEEEEWS!”
Deacon looked at the screen with disgust. A fluffy could be perfectly sweet, and polite, but whenever they did… that it stirred his repulsion to no end. He had to remind himself of the positives. At least Seraph was sweet and polite, it shouldn’t be too difficult to get her to understand what he wants. To that end, Deacon stepped away from his solitaire and made his way back to Seraph’s temporary room. It wouldn’t do to let what she had just done fade from memory. He didn’t make a show of his entrance. Theatrics are only necessary if you want a fluffy to be on their toes. He opened the door at a measured rate, and closed it with care.
“Hello Seraph, it’s good to see you again.”
Pulled from her afterglow, Seraph gave her attention to Deacon with a dopey smile.
“Hewwo nice mistew, Sewaph wike to see you awso!”
“Well, that’s wonderful! What did you do while I was gone? Could you tell me?”
“Uhhhm, otay! Sewaph pway wif bwockies an pwetty baww an wun an pway! Gib huggies to stuffy fwen. Den am sweepy, den Sewaph hab gud feews!”
Deacon tactically let his displeasure show. “Good… feels? Oh dear, this is what I was worried about.” He mumbled.
Seraph wore her concern on her sleeve, ears flattening and face falling after just a whiff of failure. Good. Deacon laid it on a little thicker.
“Oh Seraph, you want to be a good fluffy don’t you? I can see it in you, you want to make your mommy the happiest mommy in the whole world! But you know, your mommy gets very sad when you want good feels. Did you know that?”
A silent horror takes Seraph as she shakes her head no. Clearly this is the first they’ve thought about hurting their mummah’s feelings. It was like telling her Santa Claus was found dead in Miami. Time to deliver the finishing blow.
“That’s right, your mommy gave you so many pretty toys, a pretty safe room, yummy food, and all her love and affection, and you still needed to have good feels to be happy? That gave your mommy the worst heart hurties ever! It gives your mommy hurties when she sees you touch your special place, or ask about good feels. Does that make sense?”
“Buh… buh gud feews am… gud?”
“If they’re good then why do they give your mommy hurties every time she sees them? That doesn’t make any sense. If I were you, I would stop trying to get good feels.”
Deacon left a crestfallen Seraph to mull it over. After going through the trouble of talking to her himself, using plenty of repetition and even fluffspeak it was fully possible the problem was solved there. He knows enough about fluffy psychology to be confident in his effect, especially since Seraph was almost intelligent.
Seraph staggered around the safe room. Her usual grace was lost, buried under the guilt the nice hoomin had given her. She had no idea she was giving her mummah worstest heart hurties! She thought back to all the times she had gotten good feels from the couch, the carpet, her toys, each one making her own heart hurties worse and worse! What had she done?! She hurt her mummah! She thought about her mummah having saddies, which gave her saddies, and soon she was huu huuing loudly. She cried because she had been bad, even if she hadn’t meant to. She cried for all the hurties she had given her mummah, and for the good feels that she would have to give up. That hurt almost as much as hurting her mummah, but… she loved her so much! She wouldn’t give her heart hurties ever again. She kept having saddie wawas for a long time, all the while something itched in her thinky-place. She was too upset to look at it, though. She had saddie wawas for so long that she fell asleep.
Waking some time later, Seraph felt distinctly empty. Then she remembered her mummah and all the saddie wawas she’d just had. It all made sense again. The crying had gotten all the guilt out, but there was still something left. She had a feeling in her special place; it was the good feels feeling! She didn’t want to be a bad fluffy anymore, so she decided to ignore it. Good fluffies didn’t give their mummah saddies, no matter how strong the feeling in her special place got. She tried running, but the feeling bothered her. She gave stacking blocks a go, but it just wasn’t as fun as good feels. Even the sparkly balls weren’t as sparkly as they had been last bright time. She just had the biggest saddies without good feels, but it gave her mummah saddies to see them!
For a moment she froze, the cogs in her fluffy mind catching. She couldn’t let mummah see her. Seraph picked up a block and brought it to the far corner of the converted closet. Then another, and another; soon she had carried every block to the same nook. Admiring her pile, she selected the topmost block and carefully placed it against the wall. She made a stack. Then another stack, right next to it, then another. With great care, and several breaks to look it over and think, Seraph used the blocks to make an impromptu shelter within the safe room. The entire time she hummed to herself, a part of her brain feeling like this is exactly what she should be doing. Seraph had made her very own nestie, all by herself! She felt like such a smart fluffy, so safe and warm in her nestie where no one could see her. Interrupted again by the feeling in her special place, she gave herself good feels without a second thought. It felt so good! She huffed and enfed and panted all she wanted, safe in her nestie. Mummah couldn’t see her in there, she was safe from giving hurties.
The phone barely had time to ring before an answer.
“Yes?”
The austerity in that tone rankled Deacon, however momentarily. There was age in that voice, and pedigree. “Hello, I’m Deacon with MiseriCorp, calling about one Seraph LeRoche. Is this her residence?”
“One moment, sir.” There was silence from the other end, followed by a muted discussion and an automatic ‘thank you, Bertram’ before Viviana LeRoche entered the call.
“Deacon! I hope nothing’s the matter, I only handed my dear baby off to you yesterday, after all. Or better yet, you’re here to tell me the matter is solved?”
“Not quite, ma’am. As we agreed I’ve begun the gentle treatment, but Seraph appears to be more resistant than anticipated.”
“Oh?”
“Yes ma’am. I’ve gotten her to understand that mastur- good feels are something bad that hurts your feelings, which is just terrible for a fluffy. The trouble is, now she seems to be hiding it. She hasn’t stopped.”
A heavy silence followed. “So…”
“It is my opinion that the ‘gentle’ approach has failed to work. With your permission, I believe it’s time to progress to more extreme measures, like we discussed during intake.”
“…”
“Ma’am? Are you still there?”
“Will… she know it’s because of me? She was so sweet before all this, I just want my baby back.”
“With an increase in treatment the risk of trauma becomes non-zero, but I assure you worse fluffies than Seraph have blossomed under our tutelage. I will, of course, do everything in my power to preserve her state of mind.”
“…”
“Okay. Just get it done.”
Click
Wasting no time, Deacon immediately made a few more calls. While he was sure they weren’t all necessary, it always paid to be prepared for important things. The curtness of Viviana LeRoche had no bearing on her pocketbook, no matter how dehumanizing it felt. He couldn’t help but be frustrated. Seraph was clearly very intelligent, even for her age, but there was willfulness at play here. There had to be. It should be clear to her that lewd acts would break her beloved mother’s heart, which was something any upstanding fluffy, which Seraph clearly was, would never dream of. Well, if a fluffy isn’t able to regulate their own lustful desires, he just has to give them a helping hand. Or aide.
Only an hour after he had placed the first calls, Multipurpose Room 2 was ready for its new occupant. The surveillance system had been modified from one standard CCTV camera to an entire network, able to capture every corner of the room. Even if a fluffy tried to hide themselves behind or even underneath furniture. This was paired with a high fidelity, voice-of-god surround sound system that made noise come from everywhere and nowhere. Now a single person could not only keep an eye on the room’s occupant no matter where they went, they would also be able to issue verbal corrections in real time. Now all Deacon had to do was put Seraph in the correct mindset. He made his way to Seraph’s room for the third time in short order, and opened the door as though nothing was amiss.
“Hello there, Seraph.”
“Hewwo mistew! Wan huggies?”
Deacon grinned at this unprompted display of affection, like a good fluffy owner would. “Thank you, but no. I just came to see how you were doing. Are you being good, and making your mummah and Daddeh happy?”
“Yus! Sewaph am gud fwuffy! Made-” Seraph beamed before doing a small double-take. “Wha? Siwwy hoomin, Sewaph nu hab daddeh, jus mummah.”
“No Daddeh? Don’t be silly, what about Sky Daddeh? He’s everyone’s Daddeh.”
“Sky Daddeh? Mummah nu tawkies about Sky Daddeh.”
“Sky Daddeh loves you veery much, just like your mummah. He loves everyone! He can also see everyone, and hear you when you talk to him, cuz he’s always watching and always listening.”
Seraph’s face became a mask of terror with that final declaration, but Deacon intentionally ignored it for the sake of her treatment. “Welp, it’s time for you to go to your real safe room! This was just a small one, we needed time to get the big one ready because your mummah brought you here so fast.” He then scooped her up in his own arms, and carried her to Multipurpose Room 2. On the way Seraph had enough time to gather herself, and to ask a question.
“Sky Daddeh am wike mummah?”
“Yes. He likes all the things your mummah likes, and doesn’t like all the things she doesn’t like.”
She seemed to fall into contemplation after that. Hopefully she had made the connection, but if not there would be plenty of chances to enforce it. Deacon placed Seraph in her new prison, made a show of checking her food and water, which were both flavored, and quietly left her alone.
For the second time now, Seraph was somewhere she’d never been before. The first time had been sooo exciting! This time, however, thoughts of Sky Daddeh weighed heavy. A Daddeh that could see her all the time?! How was she supposed to have good feels now? She didn’t want to give hurties, it gave her the biggest saddies when she did that, but the good feels were just so… well, good! She thought about trying to hide it again, but she wasn’t sure that would work. She felt another pang of heart hurties, thinking about the Daddeh she hadn’t even known she was hurting. Seraph decided that she would try! After giving her mummah and Daddeh the WORSTEST heart hurties on accident, she would be a good fluffy and only do fluffy things for them. No good feels!
She began by splorin’ her new room, which she was paying attention to for the first time. It was pink. Everything was pink! It was way bigger than the last room, but still not as big as the one in her housie. The floors were soft, which felt pretty, and squished under her hooves which felt even prettier. But everywhere she turned, her eyes hit the same, unchanging pink color. That was just like her housie. Already she missed the other safe room, it had so many different colors that just looking around was fun. Seraph shook those thoughts from her thinky-place and continued splorin’. The bed, nummies bowls, and litter box all looked exactly like the ones at her housie, but they didn’t smell like them. Well, that was strange. She took the next hundred forevers or so to carefully sniff everything, turning the bed this way and that, but not the litterbox or nummies because they weren’t empty. Seraph didn’t find anything else interesting out, but she wasn’t sure what she had been expecting anyway.
The rest of her first day in the new not-housie was just like that; uneventful. There was a point where she thought about giving herself good feels, but she remembered her mummah and Sky Daddeh and decided to play with blocks instead. The warm, squirmy feeling in her tummy that came with wanting good feels went away soon after. This happened again on the second day, but it took much longer for the feeling to leave, making her uncomfortable in a way that she had never been before. This worried her; the not-housie didn’t hold any more interesting things to do, and with each forever that passed in the boring, pink room she wanted good feels more and more! They always gave her something fun to do. Something fun…
Before Seraph could ponder that any further, she, acting on genetic programming and the faintest childhood memories, spoke as though in a dream.
“Can… Sewaph hab teebee?”
Silence met her, but the simple act of vocalizing had girded her resolve. “Can Sewaph hab teebee pwease? Sky Daddeh, Sewaph nee teebee pwease. Teebee pwease!”
Still no hoomins came to answer her call, so she tried even harder. “Mummaaaaaah! Sky daddeeeeeh! Sewaph am bowed, nee watch teebee pwease!”
Still no response! Even though Sky Daddeh was always listening to her, like the nice mister had said? Did… did Sky Daddeh not wub her anymore? Did mummah wub her? Seraph spiraled as her cries grew louder and increasingly desperate. Every time she went unanswered, the hurties in her heart grew a little more. She wanted to be a good fluffy for her mummah, she didn’t like being called a swut or a hawwot, whatever those meant. But she was also bored! Her mummah was always so busy, she hardly had any time for huggies or cuddles or playing. She just stayed in that pink safe room all the time! Good feels gave her heart happies, but her mummah didn’t want her to have any, and now no teebee either?! How was she supposed to get rid of heart hurties? But maybe mummah knew that.
Maybe she wasn’t supposed to have heart happies, for mummah.
“MUMMAAAAAAAAAAHUUHUUHUUHUU”
It’s true! It must be true! She wanted to be a good fluffy, and good fluffies didn’t want special huggies or teebee or heart happies. Good fluffies stayed in the boring safe room with heart hurties for mummah. The realization was so terrible that she sobbed herself to sleep. The night was fitful, she awoke several times to toss and turn, a few more to get a drink of water, and once to make good poopies. Seraph finally rose slowly, blinking the sleep from her eyes. She didn’t have a way of knowing, but it was her third day in Multipurpose Room 2. She enjoyed the stillness of the room, feeling how heavy her body was after a big night. The feeling was already there, making her special place tingle. Unconsciously she grinds her hip on the bed she had curled up in, like she had a hundred times before in her housie. Then a hoomin spoke, so loud that it made her ears hurt a little.
“KNOCK THAT OFF, SLUT”
This time, her scream could be heard from outside the door.
Barely three days, and she’s already slipped up? Pathetic. Still, this was all part of the plan. The aides were to take the role of “Sky Daddeh”, using their omniscience to keep Seraph from touching herself. Sitting in a small, dark room watching a fluffy pass the time naturally didn’t sound appealing, so there was a $50 bonus any time an aide caught her misbehaving. Deacon also allowed snacks, friends for company, even entertainment and media devices, as long as it didn’t keep your eyes off the cameras; and any time you spent “angel-watching” would replace time spent in your regular shift. Soon the watch schedule was completely booked. I mean, all that’s needed is working eyes and you get to sit down at a desk for money. The aides worked in four hour shifts, changing a total of six times a day. Morning, noon, and night, there wasn’t a single blink, fart, or yawn the aides didn’t capture in their logs. After her first correction it took Seraph days to calm down fully. This was fair, given that Sky Daddeh had yelled at her so unexpectedly. Now that the stage had been set, the training could truly begin.
Almost immediately, the monitoring station became somewhat of a parlor room. Inviting a couple colleagues to shoot the breeze while you all kept your eye on the screens quickly included bringing a twelve pack to enhance the mood. By day three someone had brought their own wet bar from home and set it up in the booth. This was partly the reason why Sky Daddeh had been so loud that day, and Deacon had given everyone on rotation a lecture about professionalism while on the clock.
“I don’t care what you do at work, as long as the work isn’t neglected.”
From that day on the shifts became more serious affairs, with more employees now being in on the fun. Extra aides were roped in to become dedicated watchers. As more days passed, now with Seraph exhibiting more and more signs of arousal, people needed to find other ways to occupy themselves while “on duty”. Enter the ever reliable gambling. Blackjack, Texas hold’em, pai gow, baccarat, gin rummy, bridge, and Indian poker were all staples, money entering and leaving hands more than anyone was able to track. Bookies would take wagers on the timing or quantity of her bodily functions, such as “litterbox <4hr”. The aides started doing shifts within their shifts, rotating who got to gamble and drink, and smoke now, and who had to keep an eye on the angel. All of this was okay with Deacon. People were very social creatures, if being a little raucous made the long hours spent watching Seraph any easier, it was worth it. They hadn’t overdone it with a correction again, either. Yes, that was all to the good. Unfortunately it wasn’t having the desired effect. Seraph seemed to know perfectly well what Deacon wanted from her, but there was a willfulness, or maybe weakness, still present. She would go an average of three or four days without touching herself, but she would inevitably fall back into bad habits. At this point she would be corrected by an aide over the speakers, and she would wallow in guilt for a while. It was starting to annoy him. And she was always going on about a TV. Ms. LeRoche hadn’t mentioned anything like this during Seraph’s intake, so he assumed it was a result of her time here. That annoyed him also. It being the dawn of month three, he supposed that if just surveillance wasn’t working, it may be appropriate to intervene again. If the client says she’s bored, why not give her a TV?
It was dark time, Seraph could tell that now. It had been many, many forevers since she’d last seen her mummah. All she had now was this boring not-housie and a Sky Daddeh that made her hear places hurt when he talked. Every bright time she asked him things, or asked him for things, even though all he did was tell her “no gud feews!” The nice mister had said he was always listening, so she knew Sky Daddeh could hear her. She did so now, starting up her usual routine of asking for a teebee. Or her mummah, or the nice mister, or anything that wasn’t this not-pretty room! Seraph was close to giving up for the night when she heard the Sky Daddeh sound; a faint sort of hissy sound that only happened before Sky Daddeh talked to her. But she hadn’t had any good feels, had she?
“Yes, my child?”
This time Sky Daddeh sounded scratchy, but he wasn’t loud like normal.
“Sky Daddeh! Sewaph nee teebee cuz Sewaph bowed, wan be gud fwuffy!”
“Hmmm, I don’t see why not. But I’ll need to ask your mother about that first. Is there anything else on your mind?”
This was something Seraph wasn’t prepared for. She had gotten so used to yelling at a void that she couldn’t think of how to respond. After a beat she spat out “Whewe mummah?!”
“That’s not something for you to know. Try again.”
She huffed. Glowering at a random spot of the room, Seraph suddenly remembered something that had bothered her for a lot of bright times now.
“Wai does Sky Daddeh hab diffwen’ voicies on diffwen’ bwite times?”
“Because I’m everywhere, of course.”
“Wha? Sewaph nu unnastan’.”
“Well, is everywhere the same, or is everywhere different?”
Even for a smarter fluffy like Seraph, this was a bit too abstract. “Am ebewywhewe da samesies, ow diffwen’?” She frowned in concentration. “Sewaph nu unnastan’, Sky Daddeh am gibing Sewaph thinkie-pwace huwties.”
“It’s quite simple. Think of the solar system, or just the Earth. When you take a look at one place, and then go to another place, and look at that, you’ll find they’re all subtly unique. Since I’m everywhere, does it make sense that you’d hear the same part of me twice?”
“…wha?”
“Maybe it’s a little too complicated for you. That’s ok, all you need to know is that’s just what Sky Daddeh is like, ok?”
“Um… otay, Sky Daddeh.”
“Good girl. Now, how about you go back to sleep, ok?”
“Otay, Sky Daddeh.”
The next bright time Seraph heard the door open. It was the nice mister! He had another hoomin with him, and they were carrying a big black box inside. It was a teebee! Bouncing up to them, the nice mister told Seraph that her mummah had bought this teebee for her after talking to her Daddeh. This was the bestest day ever! Now when she wanted good feels she could just watch teebee instead. She thanked the nice mister and gave him huggies over and over, even thanking the other mister who didn’t talk. When the nice mister got really close to her and explained how the teebee turned on and off, she did it herself to show how much of a smart and good fluffy she was. Soon they had both left, she turned the teebee back on and sat in front of it for the first time. It was the bestest… maybe the bestest thing ever! Seraph knew the first show was called leggies, because the fluffy on the teebee said it right before. It showed fluffies running and playing, hugging, stacking blocks, wrestling, and anything else you could do with your leggies. The whole time a fluffy was singing a super pretty song called the leggy song. So this was teebee! The grass was pretty, the stallions and mares were pretty, and the music was especially pretty! Seraph sat still for the entire show, although she didn’t notice she was doing it. After that there was a show called “No Munstahs” which was a little scary, then “The Blocky Show” which she also loved. Next was “Babbehs.” She loved babbehs, everybody did! They were so small and cute, little chirpy babbehs were made for huggies and wuv! Not that she’d ever seen any up close. The teebee didn’t just show her babbehs though, it also had mares and stallions with them. They were pretty! So pretty, and they kept on moving in funny ways. Sometimes you would even see their nonos, which immediately gave Seraph that feeling. No! Nononononono, she was a good fluffy, and good fluffies didn’t give their mummah or Daddeh hurties. She wanted to run away, but the forevers of Sky Daddeh watching had left her deprived and and the teebee was just so pretty. Look at the babbehs, look at the blockies, look at the stallion’s nonos, NO that’s not right, back to the mares, and the babbehs. A close up shot of a beautiful stallion and mare nuzzling each other like they were in love, and Seraph found herself grinding on her bed. She just couldn’t help it anymore! It had been a forever forevers since she’d had good feels and the teebee was making her special place go crazy. She barely heard when Sky Daddeh told her to stop, and she didn’t stop the good feels. She just kept panting, and enfing, and Sky Daddeh kept yelling, and loud noisies started coming from everywhere! She was almost to gud feews when the door slammed open. Seraph didn’t look, just kept enfing. She didn’t see the hoomins come up behind her, but she did give a yelp when she was pinned down by a gigantic hand. It was so heavy! She tried to say something, but it just came out as a sort of ACK ACK noise. Another yelp when the syringe was inserted into her scruff, then she was pulled down to oblivion.
After the second verbal correction had been ignored, Deacon had personally called in the orderlies. He’d tried, oh, how he had tried to be gentle. But at every turn this slut had played him like a chump! She said that she understood, she even acted like she understood, but when left to her own devices she always disobeyed. Worse than being bad for business, it hurt his pride, and reputation within MiseriCorp. While the extraordinary number of zeroes on Ms. LeRoche’s deposit had given Deacon significant leeway with this case, after five hundred and forty six consecutive aide ragers corporate was starting to look for solutions, not ‘best practices.’ Pricks. As if they know what it takes to keep people happy around here. He had done his best, but now his bosses were putting themselves first. At least he could channel his frustrations into the client. Even though she knew that she shouldn’t be masturbating, she was still getting caught every few days. Alright, if you wanna smoke, you can have the whole CARTON of cigarettes. With midazolam still coursing through her system, Seraph was dead to the world. Just as Deacon turned his attention to her, the aides he had called earlier arrived with their package. A sybian, a human one at that. He ordered the aides to hold Seraph in place while he affixed her to an x shaped board. The sybian was placed under her and she was gagged. No need for that lying mouth any longer. The toys and other amenities were removed from Multipurpose Room 2, all that’s left is the sybian and the accompanying fluffy-sized rack. After making sure Seraph’s leg restraints pulled her tightly against the device, he left the rest to the help.
“Yes?”
“Good afternoon, it’s Deacon from MiseriCorp. I’m just calling to inform you that Seraph LeRoche will be ready for pickup in seven days. That will be all.”
“Yes, sir. Very good, sir.”
Click
When Seraph woke up she felt something heavy on her leggies. There were no fuzzies in her thinky place. She went from a deep, dreamless sleep to fully awake, which is its own kind of disorienting. She tries to get her bearings, but nothing about her situation is making sense. The last thing she remembered was watching teebee, and having good feels. Good feels? She wasn’t supposed to be doing that! She had been a bad fluffy, again! That thought alone would normally be enough for Seraph to cry right there, but the strangeness of being gagged and bound spread eagle on this weird boxie had paralyzed her. Instead her eyes roamed the room in front of her, noticing the lack of toys or soft bed. There wasn’t any food or water for her either! Although she would have no way to reach it anyway. Her mummah or Daddeh must have told the nice mister to take them away because she was a bad fluffy! Good feels gave them the worstest heart hurties in the world, but she had done it anyway, and even now the weird boxie she was sitting on was poking her nono place, making it tingle. That thought made her cry, dribbles of spit running around the gag that bubbled with every heave and hiccough.
At that moment, the vibrator is turned on. She arches her back with a wail, restraints digging painfully as a jolt runs the entire length of her spine. It felt so GOOD. But she wasn’t supposed to be feeling good! She didn’t understand what was happening anymore. She had tried so hard to be good and failed, and now she was getting good feels? Didn’t her mummah want heart hurties for her? Wriggling to move her special place off of the buzzing had proved unsuccessful. Had the nice mister put her here? Seraph didn’t have time to chew on it for long before the sybian brought an extremely pent up fluffy to the edge in seconds. Whatever may be happening now, her brain had been thoroughly conditioned to see good feels as a bad, hurtful thing over the months. Seraph was dragged kicking and screaming into the strongest orgasm of her life, a howl muffling itself around her gag. The entire time she silently begged Sky Daddeh to forgive her, unable either to move into or away from the pleasure. Here a new hell arose. Seraph was used to giving herself good feels at her own pace, and stopping when she wanted to. The good feels didn’t stop!
Seraph finds herself bucking and yanking on her restraints, overstimulation sending lightning bolts through her body. She should be feeling good right now, but it was way too much! She desperately needed a break and used all her fluffy might to get some relief. It was no use, her leggies were stuck so good that she didn’t move an inch, and the buzzy thing was pressed firmly against her nono place. Left with nothing else to do, Seraph screamed. It actually started as a low groan, the gag making it difficult to be too loud. As the torture continued the groaning became more strained. Seraph’s entire existence was pain, and taking deep breaths to quietly scream. One long, continuous scream that a fluffy’s lungs could barely do justice. An eternal scream, for the inescapable hurties that she was getting. The hurties persisted, and Seraph’s scream slowly escaped her throat and made its way to her mouth. Eventually they escaped her mouth too, taking the form of a long, high shriek that rattled around her gag. It didn’t make the hurties stop, but it was something. She would inhale, her thinky place forced to focus on the hurties, then when her lungs strained to bursting she would scream, turning the hurties that were now filling her whole body into sound and drowning them out. Her lungs would empty, and the cycle repeated itself.
This method of coping lasted her many, many forevers, or about 36 hours. She wasn’t as frantic as other fluffies would be, which probably put less strain on her vocal cords. At this point, however, physical exhaustion had left her sagging in her restraints. Unable to vent the excruciating sensations the hurties soon felt like they were all over, from her thinky place to the tip of her pretty tail. Even her wingies hurt, folded uncomfortably against the rack as they were. Tears seeped from Seraph’s eyes, now the only sign of her screaming body and mind. Everything that she is, was, and would be was hurties. Forever heart hurties, just like her mummah wanted from her. She got another 36 hours. Three days being the hard limit for how long a healthy fluffy could be left unattended without risk of permanent damage, the sybian was shut off and two aides immediately entered the room to free Seraph. Near catatonic at this point, she only exhaled in response to her limbs being mercifully taken down, the muscles screaming as blood returned. She gave a little mumble of protest as she felt something poke her in the leg, an IV kept for occasions like this, but she was soon dragged into a black, dreamless sleep.
Deacon stood slightly to the right of MiseriCorp’s main entrance as a black Bentley Continental arrived. Foregoing the delay of parking, the driver pulled directly in front of the building, to his annoyance. The passenger door flung itself open as a man in a black suit hurried to do his job. He opens the door behind his and out steps Viviana LeRoche herself. She’s dressed more simply this time, throwing on whatever name brand items she had instead of using her stylist. This left her with selvedge denim jeans, a Comme des Garçons shirt, and, of course, oversized Gucci sunglasses. Deacon considered her unkempt appearance as he took on his most servile disposition.
“Good afternoon, Ms. LeRoche. It’s lovely to see you again.”
The corners of the heiress’ mouth pulled slightly. “And to you as well… Deacon. I have to admit I’m anxious to see my baby again, I’ve missed her horribly. How is she? How did the training go?”
Deacon couldn’t miss the second it took her to read his nametag, as if he hadn’t been personally corresponding with this woman for months now. He let it slide. There was a non-zero chance that his behavior here would have a direct impact on his tip, after all. He turned to the door and ushered Ms. LeRoche to follow him.
“When I first met her Seraph was clearly very intelligent. She’s polite, well spoken, and has powers of reasoning and understanding you don’t often see in fluffies. Most of them misbehave because of ignorance or instinct, but I was able to explain to her fairly quickly what I needed from her. Seraph’s problem… is that she’s an addict.”
Eyebrows raised in unison behind bulky frames. “An addict? How unsightly, being addicted to… that.”
Deacon nodded. “Indeed, but the trouble with addiction is that you can’t explain it away, it’s a product of the fluffy’s own weakness. They simply lack the will to resist, and unless they want to get better it’s very difficult to get them to.”
“It sounds like you hit a dead end, then.”
“Well it was very difficult, not impossible. I had a team of specialists monitor Seraph to intercept any carnal urges she had, as well as associating them with a negative stimulus. That’s the main item. With enough repetition of negative stimulus, we managed to curb her desire for good feels.”
“Well, that sounds excellent! She was such a sweetheart otherwise.”
This was sort of true, but only half the story. Deacon knew from personal experience that addiction starts as a desire to get away from something. If she was addicted to sex, it was probably because something happened to her as a foal, or she was unhappy at home. But he didn’t give a fuck. It wasn’t his job to fix the fluffy’s problems, it was his job to make them obedient. And make her obedient he had. Having only four days for her to recover was a little dicey, but it had worked out. The first day out of her restraints all Seraph did was sleep as aides gave her a banana bag. After waking on the second she had bounced back, however, and Deacon spent the remaining time solidifying the message and monitoring her for any red flags. There was no concerning behavior regarding trauma, so he considered it safe.
The party of three reached Multipurpose Room 2, Seraph’s carrying crate already near the door. When Viviana stepped inside there was much fanfare from both fluffy and owner, and many hugs were given. Seraph babbled to her owner nonstop, but when asked about her time at MiseriCorp would just reply “am fixies” and smile. At a signal, Ms. LeRoche’s man put Seraph into her crate, and Seraph quieted down enough for the humans to say goodbyes. Ms. LeRoche also made sure to hand Deacon a thick envelope, “for excellent service” was all she said to him.
It had been a year since Seraph came home from her training. Mummah said it was like her “finishin’ schoo” whatever that was. Things had been different in her housie since then. Mummah spent more time with her, and it made her so happy! She had freedom to ‘splore around the LeRoche manor, and often used it to visit her mummah. She even had her own nice mister who followed her around while she ‘splored. She was also allowed to go into the back yawd and play on the green grassies, which felt and tasted soo pretty! The yawd was nearly as big as her housie and she looked forward to being there every bright time. She was there now, in fact. The entire yawd was lined by a black metal fence that she could see through, but her thinky place was too big to fit through. In front of the fence was a big green bush which she liked to hide in sometimes. Her nice mister didn’t like it when he couldn’t see her, but sometimes she wanted to see what was on the other side of the fence. There were also trees, and rocks, and pretty flowers in the yawd, but right now she smelled something interesting. She tested the air, her wingies wiggling as she turned this way and that. It was something she had smelled before, a very long time ago, but she couldn’t name it. Zeroing in on the source, she checked on her nice mister to see him looking somewhere else. Steadily, and without rushing, Seraph waddled over to the hedge that lined the fence.
The branches caught her wingies and pretty mane, but that was ok, she dealt with it. It did cause the bush to rustle, however, after which she heard someone call out.
“Nyu fwen?”
Seraph arrived at the fence to see another fluffy! He, she could tell it was a he, was as green as the grassies he stood on, and didn’t have wingies or even a horn. How strange. Never one to be rude, Seraph inclined her head and introduced herself like mummah taught her.
“Hewwo, my namesie am Sewaph. Pweased to meetchu.”
The strange fluffy’s eyes widened as he saw her through the bars. “Pwetty fwuffy wan be Cwova spechaw fwend?”
“Spechaw fwend? What am dat?” Seraph was curious about the stranger, but that term made her uneasy for some reason.
“Spechaw fwend am fow spechaw huggies an wub, an hab babbehs. Hab famiwy, den famiwy be hewd!”
“Wat am spechaw huggies? Sewaph hab huggies bu’ nu spechaw huggies.”
At this, Clover brightened even more. “Wen fwuffy wan babbehs dey gib spechaw huggies, spechaw huggies gib babbehs an’ gud feews!”
GUD FEEWS
The words landed with a physical weight on Seraph. Her heart started racing, instinctively ducking and curling her tail as she was forced to remember her time at “finishin’ schoo.” The day before her mummah had come to rescue her, the nice munstah had come into her saferoom to tell her something. She recalled it now as though for the first time. He had come in without his usual smile, which had put her off even then.
“Hey Seraph.” He said flatly, “I’m pretty sure I’ve put you off good feels for life, but one has to be sure. Do you remember those hurties you got a few bright times ago?”
She nodded, still too worried to speak.
“That was from Sky Daddeh. He saw that you kept giving yourself good feels and got so angries that he sent a punishment to you!” He added a dramatic flair to the end of his sentence to really spook her. “Just remember that Sky Daddeh is watching you all the time, so you should be a good fluffy for your mummah and Daddeh.”
Be a good fluffy. No good feels. The mantra looped in her mind while she tried to deal with the stallion in front of her. She was hyperventilating at this point, and the feral looking fluffy could probably tell something was wrong.
“N-nu gud feews, fank ‘ou. Bye bye fwuffy.”
And with that she turned around and walked away, almost getting tangled in the hedge for all her shaking. She didn’t want to be in the yawd anymore. In a dazed waddle Seraph made it to her nice mister, whose pant leg she tugged.
“Yes young miss?” He looked down on her with professional interest.
“Nice mistew… dewe am fwuffy neaw da fencie, nu wike. Wan go housie.”
“Of course, young miss.”
Seraph was accompanied by her nice mister across the vast expanse of lawn. She didn’t notice the big, shady trees. She didn’t stop to smell or even look at the pretty flowers. She climbed the stairs to the porch in silence, not paying attention when her nice mister used his talkie box. She felt relief when she rounded the top and saw the door, determined that she would give her mummah huggies. She didn’t give a single thought to that bad stallion. She almost didn’t hear the crack and SCREE that were his last moments.
Author's Note
Holy crap! Thank you to everyone who read part one of this series, double thank you if you commented, and triple if you’re reading this. The responses were very inspiring, and I resolved to write the second one as quickly as possible! Anyway, that was October. It took a lot of chewing but I’m pleased to present my second installment of this series. I’d like to give a special thank you to @LemonCurds , who gave me the inspiration for Seraph’s character off of just one commission; she puts my thoughts into pictures. You can see all the art for this story below.
Some bits were cut because they didn’t fit, and some came to me in prophetic visions. When I decided on a time skip for the ending, the events came to me basically automatically. (But how long did it take to decide, huh?) While this is definitely a fluffy story, I’m having more fun with the human characters in this one. Viviana LeRoche was a wonderful caricature of a rich person, and I find myself interested more in how Deacon reacts to the fluffies than vice versa.
I ask myself: why does Viviana LeRoche use a phone that you can physically “hang up” with a click in the year 2024? Because it’s cinematic. The sex torture scene was uncomfortable for me to write, which is funny considering what I’ve seen and even enjoyed here. I thought about changing Seraph’s punishment, but this is the lust one, after all. Plenty of time for death and destruction later. Thank you all!
