The rain pelted down and bounced off of Gary’s umbrella, as he trudged his way towards Yasmina’s, the light in her window acting like a beacon in the gloom of the dreary Tuesday morning.
As he got closer, Gary wondered once more why he hadn’t just gotten the bus, which would have dropped him off here about 5 minutes ago, significantly dryer.
It was a rhetorical question, of course.
Gary had promised Jill that he’d get more exercise and the 20 minute walk to and from work everyday was an easier way of keeping that promise than an expensive gym membership.
He reached the cafe, shook the excess water from his umbrella and stepped inside with a grateful sigh.
“Morning, Gaz!”, smiled the petite looking woman behind the counter, already pouring him a latte and shoving a muffin in a takeaway bag.
“Morning”, he replied cheerfully. “You know, one day I’m going to order something different, just to throw you off”.
They both laughed. Gary had been coming in and ordering the same thing before his shift for years.
“How’s the little one?”, Yasmina asked, as Gary paid for his breakfast.
Gary’s heart gave a funny little leap at the mention of his beloved Son.
“Walking now”, Gary replied proudly, taking his phone out to show Yasmina a picture of a beaming, 15 month old baby.
Yasmina smiled at the look of pure, almost liquid love on Gary’s face.
“Bless him”, she said. “Gorgeous little man. It’s why we wake up early every day to do what we do, isn’t it?”
Gary nodded sagely in response to this and looked at his watch.
“Speaking of which”, he said, with a resigned shrug of his shoulders.
Gary gave a final polite smile of farewell, before picking up his bag and heading back out into the gloom.
Time he was at work.
++++++
Marie rushed down the alley, her breath panting out in ragged sobs.
Her three tiny babies clung to her pink fluff as best they could, chirping and peeping in distress.
Marie tucked her wings in as best she could, in an attempt to stop them from falling off.
They were barely talkie-babbies and still too young to understand what was going on.
They didn’t really need to. They could tell Mummah was scared. That was enough.
Marie came to the entrance of the alley and peered out.
There weren’t too many people walking the streets yet but Marie didn’t want to risk it.
She’d only been a stray for few weeks but it was long enough to know that there was no way to tell the humans from the monsters.
Marie glanced at the rubbish piled up against the wall next to her. She knew that there wasn’t long to decide.
She glanced out into the street once more. No where to hide out there.
Stiffling another sob, Marie crawled into the pile of rubbish, trying her best to cover her entire body, babies and all.
“Maybe speciaw fwend otay”, She thought to herself desperately.
But deep down in her heart, Marie knew that this couldn’t be true.
The white earthie who had fathered Marie’s babies, who had kept her company for the past few weeks, after Marie’s Daddeh had decided that fluffies simply weren’t worth the hassle and dumped her unceremoniously on the side of the road, was surely dead.
They had been fast asleep, huddled in a fluffpile for warmth, when the monsters had come for them.
One look at their grey overalls and the mean expressions on their faces had been enough to dispel any doubts Marie may have had about their intentions.
“Wun, Mawie!!”, her special friend had shouted. “Take babbehs an’ wun!”
Marie hadn’t wanted to, but after a moment’s hesitation, she had listened.
“Fwuffy wiww pwotect yu!”, he had yelled, as she had waddled away, as fast as her stumpy little legs could carry her.
Marie whimpered, from the damp of the cardboard she was hiding in, as much from concern for her special friend.
"It otay babbehs’, she whispered as quietly as she could. “Nee’ be qwiet, or meanie munstas fin’ us.”
The chirps died down a little bit at the sound of her voice but she could still feel them shaking as they nuzzled into her fluff for safety.
Marie’s ears pricked up, as the sound of heavy, booted footsteps thudded towards their hiding place.
She stiffled a whimper and clenched her backside as tightly as she could, desperate to avoid making any sound or smell that might give them away.
Unfortunately, the tension was too much for one of her foals, who let loose a stream of shit with a loud squeal of dismay, which was enough to set her other two off.
Marie shrieked in terror as an arm shot into the rubbish pile and pulled her out by the scruff of her neck.
“There you are, you little bitch!”, a voice snarled at her.
“Screeeeeeeeee! Nu wike bad upsies!”, Marie cried, as though it would do her the slightest bit of good.
Sobbing, Marie and her foals were thrust into a container and shoved onto a shelf into the back of a van.
The sound of sobs and anguished wails of other fluffies who had been captured echoed around them.
“How did you let that one get away from you anyway?”, one of the voices asked, with a snort of amused contempt. “They move at two miles per hour!”
“I was taken aback, is all!”, came the angry reply. “That little prick shat on me. These are new overalls an’ all!”
Marie’s looked up at this. They must be talking about her special friend.
He must have given the monster sorry poopies!
In spite of everything, Marie allowed herself a little smile at the thought of this tiny victory.
This proved to be short lived.
There was a thud from the middle of the van.
Marie pushed her muzzle as close to the bars of her cage as she could.
There was a large container in the middle of the van, piled high with strange shapes.
Marie squinted and concentrated as hard as she could. She soon wished that she hadn’t.
Marie let out a scream so loud that it could have shattered glass.
The shapes in the box were fluffies. Dead fluffies.
And on the very top, with a face that was so smeared with blood that she almost didn’t recognise him, was her special friend.
++++++++
“Morning Trev”, said Gary, as he walked into the staffroom, taking a final swig from his coffee.
“Alright Gaz”, replied the older man looking up from his copy of the Daily Mail. “Diet still going well then, is it?”, he smirked, watching Gary take a bite out of his muffin.
Gary chuckled and gave his colleague a two finger salaute.
They’d worked together long enough for them both to consider this playful banter.
“Quiet night?”, Gary asked, as he hung his coat on the hanger.
“Was til about an hour ago”, Trev grumbled. “Then something set one of the shit rats off, which set the rest of the little pricks off. Took a while to settle 'em down. Sorry sticks didn’t work, so we had to hose 'em.”
“Bet they loved that”, Gary said with a laugh.
“It’s why I’m only taking me break now. The truck brought a new lot in. Still have to process 'em. Looks I’ll be leaving late.”
“Who else was on?”, Gary asked.
“Steve. He had his break earlier. Told me to take mine now, on principle. Not like they pay us any extra, is it?”
“Too right”, Gary said. “Listen, finish your break and go home. I’ll keep Steve company and when the rest of the day shift gets here, tell them to come and find me and we’ll sort out delivery.”
“You’re a gentleman”, smiled Trevor amicably.
Gary nodded at Trevor and then, stuffing the final bite of muffin into his mouth, left the staff room and headed to the processing area.
+++++
The shelter Gary worked at was a shelter in name only.
The County Council paid them to collect the ferals that plagued the town.
The contract didn’t say anything beyond that, as long as all the usual health and safety regulations around waste disposal were met.
After all, strictly speaking, fluffies weren’t animals.
The powers that be who ran the ‘shelter’ soon realised that if this was the case, they could save a lot of money if they didn’t worry too much about things like food, living space and all the other things that a hugbox shelter would need if they had any intention of getting their fluffies adopted.
But there were plenty of other places which would pay for fluffies that were alive, even if they were not going to make the grade as pets.
Gary walked towards the room where one of the shelter’s trucks had dropped off the new load of ‘guests’ for the shelter.
It would have been easy to find, even if he hadn’t known where he was going.
All he had to do was follow his ears and head towards the sound of crying.
+++++++
Once she had cried herself out, Marie had fallen into an uneasy doze.
Her foals were snuggled up into her, in spite of the various bodily fluids which were matted into her fluff.
She awoke with a start as the doors of the van were thrown open, flooding the area with light.
The monsters walked into the van and one by one, shook the inhabitants out of their cages into a heap on the floor.
The air was filled with frantic shouting and Marie struggled to hold onto her babies, as she was jostled by other fluffies being thrown against her.
When the van was empty, the fluffies clung together as best they could, not knowing or caring whether they knew the fluffy standing next to them.
“Shut the fuck up!”, a voice roared, shocking the huddled mass into silence, barring the odd protest about the “bad wordsies”.
“You’re all here because no-one else wants you”, the voice continued, quieter now but no less frightening for it.
There were a few “hu hus” at this.
“And unless you do EVERYTHING we tell you, you can expect wowsest huwties”.
The last two words were spoken with a tone of cruel mockery.
A door on the other side of the room opened and another man walked in.
“Hello Gaz!”, exclaimed the voice. “I was explaining how things work to the shit rats”.
“Pwease nice mista!”, pipped up one of the fluffies at the back, who looked just about old enough to be called a stallion.
“Fwuffies nu am shitwats” (there were a few more whimpers about bad wordsies) “fwuffies am for huggies and wub an dancies”.
++++++++
Gary shot Steve a glance and the two of them exchanged a little smile.
“There’s one in every new batch”, his look said.
“A dancing fluffy”, said Steve, with faux incredulity. “What do you reckon, Gaz?”
“Dat’s wite!”, the stallion exclaimed excitedly, failing to spot the obvious trap. “Am bewstest dancing fwuffy!”
“Well”, said Gaz, picking up the cue. “You’d better show us then”.
“What do you reckon a good dance would be worth then?”, replied Steve.
“Hmmmmmm”, Gary pretended to think. “Huggies and love, I suppose. Maybe some skettis. If it’s really good dancing, obviously.”
The gullible stallion gasped “Otay nice mistas. Fwuffy wiww gib bewstest dancies eba!”
And with that, the hapless fluffy proceeded to do the clumsy, awkward shuffle that so many hugboxers find endearing.
Under different circumstances, it would have gotten him somewhere.
Gary’s lower lip curled into a sneer at the fluffy’s pathetic attempt to win them over. The subservient nature of these things disgusted him.
Without waiting for the young stallion to finish, he strode across the room, kicked the fluffy over and brought his foot down on the fluffy’s front leg hard, shattering the bone with a loud crack.
The fluffy’s howl of pain echoed round the room, evoking screams of terror from the others.
The two men laughed at the sight of the stallion crawlig back onto his hind legs and trying to continue to dance, in spite of his injury, refusing to accept the reality that nothing it could do would change things.
Gary gave it another few moments before lifting his foot up and bringing it down on the stallion’s head, killing it instantly and breaking the resolve that any of the others may have been harbouring.
"Play time is over, shit rats’, he screamed at them. "Walk through that door now!’
He held up the pulpy remains of his victim and waved it in front of the horrified crowd “And if any of you are thinking about disobeying me, take a good look at your friend here.”
It hadn’t been necessary. He had already made his point.
There was wailing and screaming but every single fluffy followed the direction of Gary’s finger and dashed through the door as fast as they could.
++++++
Marie and her foals lay shivering on the the floor of one of several large pens, each one crammed to maximum capacity.
The corner they were in was the cleanest one Marie could find but that wasn’t saying much.
The monsters didn’t seem to care about good poopies.
Marie tried to work out how long they had been here but it was too hard.
She’d have been shocked to learn that it hadn’t even been a day.
Her stomach rumbled.
One of the monsters had come in to throw a pile of food into the centre of each of the pens.
Marie shuddered in disgust at the memory.
You could hardly call the pile of assorted rotting food waste they had been given nummies.
Even so, she had done her best to eat as much as she could and joined the scrum of fluffies struggling to get their share.
Or at least, the fluffies who still had the motivation to do so.
A good number of the fluffies continued to just lie on the floor, staring at nothing.
None the less, Marie had managed to choke down enough for her babies to get a few mouthfuls of milk each. But it wasn’t enough.
An indeterminate amount of time later, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall towards them and after another moment, the door flew open.
Marie’s heart sank as the monster they called Gaz and another one she hadn’t seen before walked in.
“Right then”, Gary called out, his voice full of sardonic cheer. “Some gentlemen are having a stag do later this evening and they’ve asked for some fluffies for…”, he paused before letting out a snigger “entertainment.”
He nodded at the other monster and the two of them walked into the pen that Marie was in.
The fluffies who had been there long enough but hadn’t yet succumbed to apathy shrank back. They knew that nothing good ever came of any offer from the monster’s visits.
A few of the newer, dimmer fluffies edged foward cautiously, unsure what a stag do was but gambling that it couldn’t be any worse than where they were now.
The monsters grabbed a few of the more lively looking specimens and loaded them into cages.
“The order requested some foals too”, Gary’s companion said, checking the clipboard she was carrying.
Gary cast his eyes across the pen. Slim pickings. Foals didn’t tend to last too long in this place.
Marie covered her eyes, in a vain attempt to avoid the inevitable.
She heard the dreaded sound of heavy boots move right next to her.
“Looks like your babies are going to the party”, Gary sneered, as he reaching down and grabbed the one nearest to him, a little pegasus with fluff the same colour as Marie’s special friend.
“Nuuuuuu!”, screamed Marie, “Pwease nu take Mawie’s babbehs! Dey onwy wittwe babbehs!”
Marie flinched, as Gary lifted his foot back to give her a kick. Then he stopped and gave a strange smile.
“Now what kind of meanie mummah wouldn’t want her foals to go and have some fun with the nice mistas?”, he asked, the unnerving smile not leaving his face.
Marie glared at him, her cheeks puffed out in defiance. Her special friend wouldn’t be the only one to be brave and defend her kids.
“Nu am meanie!‘, she spat angrily at him "Mawie an’ babies nu do nuffin’ tu dummie meanie monstas! Hat’chu! HAT’CHU!”
A few of the more lucid fluffies gave an awed gasp. One of them even cheered.
Gary looked at the other monster. Then he looked at Marie.
“Meanie?”, he said, pretending to be hurt. “That’s not true. Let me show you. Here, I’ll let you keep one of your babies”.
Before Marie had a chance to reply, Gary lifted up the foal he was holding and threw it as hard as he could on the ground next to Marie.
There was a sickening, wet thud as the foal burst like a ripe tomato, splattering Marie with gore.
Marie let out a wail and rushed towards the blob of viscera on the floor. It was still twitching.
“BABBEH!!!”, she howled, temporarily distracted, while Gary scooped her other two babies into the cage and left the room, laughing like a hyena.
Marie lay prostrate of the floor and sobbed.
As the sound of booted footsteps retreated down the corridor, Marie looked up and uttered the last words that would ever come out of her mouth for the rest of her short but wretched existence.
“Wan die”, she whispered “wan die.”
++++++++
Gary was sat in the staff room, enjoying some temporary respite from the sound and smell of fluffies, when Trevor walked in.
“Hello Trev”, he smiled. “Back already? And early as well. Looking for a promotion?”, he winked at his friend, who chuckled and sat next to him.
“I was hoping to catch you before the shift handover, mate”, he replied. “I know you’ve got to get home to help the missus with the little man and I wanted to give you something.”
He held up a plastic bag and placed it on the table in front of them.
“Some of Nick’s old toys”, he explained. “He outgrew 'em years ago and I thought your lad might like 'em. All suitable for kids under three.”
Gary was touched. “Cheers Trev”, he replied.
“It’s fine, mate. Kept meaning to bring 'em in but you know how it is. Anyway, good shift?”
“Those shit rats get more pathetic every day. Other than that, can’t complain”.
They exchanged pleasantries for a few moments more.
When they were done and the shift was handed over, Gary stepped out onto the street.
The dreary morning had passed and the evening air was crisp but pleasant.
Gary yawned. He was knackered.
He’d get the bus home tonight. Jill would understand. She’d probably appreciate the extra help with the bedtime routine.
Gary had a quick look in the bag Trevor had given him. There was some decent stuff in there.
Gary smiled at the thought of the expression on his precious little boy’s face when he got his hands on his new toys.
And with that happy thought running through his head, Gary walked towards the bus stop.
He was a contented man.
THE END