*Story based on image created by @Mexi
You’ve just finished locking your front door when there is a squeaky voice behind you.
“Babbeh hab tummeh owwies, nee’ nummies!”
You turn to find a small fluffy unicorn on your doorstep. His fur is teal in color, and his mane and tail are both an off-white, almost almond color. His fur is smeared with dirt, and his tiny cheeks are puffed out in a sneer.
“What the fuck do you want?”
You glare at the tiny animal. Besides the obvious dirt, the thing obviously needs a bath: you can smell it from here.
“Yu am dummeh? Babbeh said nee’ nummies, mistah dummeh!”
It barks at you in its shrill voice, stamping its tiny foot for emphasis. Your eyebrow twitches. What the fuck is this doing here, you think to yourself. The little rat interrupts your thoughts by hitting your shoe with its tiny hoof. You are sure he meant it to hurt, but obviously it came across as more of a tap. You take your phone out and fire off a text to your therapist. You won’t be making it to today’s session. Unlocking your door once more, you stoop to lift the tiny creature up.
“My mistake, little fluffy. Let me take you inside and get you something nice to eat.”
You hold the shitrat by the scruff of its neck, not wanting to smudge your clothes with its dirty fur.
“Das wite, dummeh mistah. Gib fwuffy bestest sketties!”
It sneers at you again. Your self control almost slips, but you fix the idiotic smile on your face and march inside with your new friend. Glancing around your kitchen, you find an empty cardboard box from your last Amazon delivery, and place your little friend inside.
“Nu wike dummeh boxie, wan nice bed!”
It bleats at you as you rummage through the cupboards, searching for appropriate fare for such an esteemed guest.
“But fluffy, that is the Spaghetti House! Thats where you can eat all the spaghetti you want!”
The unicorn gasps, but recovers quickly.
“Fwuffy knu dat, dummeh! Huwwy, gib fwuffy aww da sketties!”
Finding a box of store-brand noodles, you set a pot to boil on the stove. A quick search of the pantry finds a can of el-cheapo tomato sauce. You complete your search of the pantry after locating several other items, and place them on the counter for later. Next comes the bathroom.
In your medicine cabinet, you locate some laxative tablets. A quick look under the sink locates some tampons an ex-girlfriend left laying around. Luckily, you don’t throw anything useful out. Once you return to the kitchen, the water is boiling on the stove. After adding the pasta, you reach down into the box where the fluffy has been watching you, and pluck him up carefully, walking over to the sink.
“Dummeh hooman, nu wan upsies! Gib sketties now!”
It beats its hooves on your hand pathetically, and you place it gently in the sink.
“But fluffy, smelly fluffies don’t get sketties! Everybody knows that!”
The fluffy gasps, and the tension flows out of him.
“Nuuu! Fwuffy nee sketties! Mistah make fwuffy kween, den gib sketties?”
“Of course, little fluffy.”
You turn the tap and warm water starts flowing out. Carefully, you rinse all the dirt and detritus from the tiny creatures fur, then lather him up with watermelon-scented handsoap.
“Dat smeww pwetty. Fwuffy wike!”
It chirps happily as you rinse it off. After a quick rubdown with a paper towel, you place the fluffy back in the cardboard box and check the spaghetti. Perfect. It has cooked far too long and is now extra soft. The retarded little shitrat is unlikely to enjoy al dente pasta, you would think. After draining the pasta, you chop it up into bite-sized pieces for the little guy, and then chuck it into a pot you’ve been using to warm the sauce. Next, you crush several pills on the countertop and stir the resulting laxative powder into the spaghetti. Just like mamma used to make, eh? Finding your cheapest bowl, you pile it high with the drugged noodles and place the dish in the box with the fluffy, who is positively losing his shit.
“Dems is bestest skettis! Fwuffy get aww dem tasty sketties! Suuu many heawt-happies!”
The little fuck is practically vibrating from excitement, and launches himself head-first into the food, smearing cheap sauce all over his jowls.
This is going to be great.
—
You are a fluffy, with pretty green fur. You are-in fact- the smartest fluffy ever. You just ate the most spaghetti you had ever seen in your life. Well, you had never actually seen spaghetti before, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that you were so smart, you made the dumb human give you the best food ever. Now, you were so full. More full than you had ever been since your mother left. Your tummy stuffed full, you drifted off to blissful sleep.
gurgle
You woke up instantly, startled by the scary noise. Then, your insides were suddenly so painful! It was like you were being stabbed.
“Nu wike! Insides huwt suuu bad!”
You mewled to yourself as the pains continued, clutching your tummy. Then, something terrible happened!
“Nuuuuuu! Nuuu bad poopies!”
Runny feces erupted from your bottom, spattering your pretty fur and tail with foul, watery liquid. When it was over, you heaved a sigh of relief, but then your insides clenched again, and once more shit spewed forth from you. Again and again your insides squeezed painfully, until there was nothing left to expel, and still they spasmed, hurting your anus terribly.
“Huu huu huuuuu! Fwuffy hab su many huwties in poopy pwace!”
—
You were busy watching a movie, but the sweet sound of despondent fluffy from the other room drew your attention back to your “visitor.” It seems the laxatives have had the desired effect. The little bastard has shit all over himself and the cardboard box. He is sleeping, but even in his sleep he sobs and clutches his tummy, obviously in pain. Donning a pair of rubber gloves you prepared in advance, you return to the box.
“WAKE UP!”
You slam your fist on the tabletop, startling the fluffy awake.
“Waaa? Wa scawwy noises?” It mumbles groggily, then clutches its sore tummy again.
“Pwese hewp fwuffy, tummy hav su many owwies, nu smeww pwetty!”
He reaches his pathetic little arms up for help, but instead you grab him roughly in one gloved hand. Taking an unwrapped tampon, you shove it roughly up his ass, his already tender anus bleeding from the trauma.
“SCREEEEEEEE! TEWWIBWE OWWIES! CHIRP CHIRP!”
The fluffy screams and flails, but you keep hold of him. Once again it begs for help between pathetic chirping noises.
“No help for you, shithead! Only bad fluffies make bad poopies! That must mean you’re a poopy fluffy! Poopy fluffies are supposed to be brown, so let’s do something about that.”
Taking the bawling fluffy in your hand, you begin to use it like a sponge, wiping up the diarrhea with his green fluff.
“Nuuuhuuhuuu! Fwuffy nu am poopy fwuffy! Buh nu smew pwetty! Poopy-pwace suuu huwties!”
The tears roll down his tiny face, streaking his fluff as snot drips from his sniveling nose.
“Oh, my mistake, fluffy! Lets get you cleaned up!”
You lob the fluffy the short distance into the sink, where he lands with a squelching noise. Turning the faucet to ‘spray,’ you roughly hose the sobbing fluffy down with ice-cold water.
“Lets get all that poop off of you, champ!” Out comes the brillo pad, and you scrub him even more roughly, scouring every inch of the wriggling shitrat. Ignoring his crying, you pay special attention to his swollen anus as you scour, eliciting screeches of pain.
“NUUU HUUUHUUU! NU HUWT POOPY-PWACE! TEWWIBWE OWWIES IN POOPY-PWACE!”
Dropping the brillo pad in the sink, you spray the fluffy once more. Much of his fluff comes off, detached by your abrasive pad. The rinse leaves him a swollen, patchy mess. Rather comical looking, with only a mane and tail besides the patchy remainder of his fluff. He hugs himself and shivers.
“We aren’t done yet, you little fuck!”
