Your name is Hector Moreno, and you hate this miserable city.
You walk down the shattered sidewalk, weaving in and out of the garbage carelessly strewn about as far as you could see. You look up from the ground- just for a moment, some part of you still hoping something beautiful might’ve magically sprung up since yesterday- but no, all that meets your gaze is a view of endlessly unmaintained concrete and boarded windows. Of course… same as always. Whatever did you expect, nothing ever changes around here, anyway…
You feel a drop of water hit your head from the cloudy sky above. Damn it, more rain… once again, same old, same old. It’s like it’s always raining, but better that than the snow, you suppose… a chill seeps through your jacket and you shiver. ‘Pose that’s coming soon, too, huh…? God. You hate it here… you hate the garbage, you hate how much it rains, you hate how much it snows, and you hate the people here, and you hate your shitty apartment complex, and more than any of that… you hate the fucking fluffies that ruined this city.
It wasn’t always like this, of course. When the Supreme Court ruled that fluffies didn’t count as animal, and were therefore exempt from animal abuse laws, you supported it fully. ‘Not part of the Kingdom Animalia, so not technically animals…’ Blatant example of corruption, and corporate influence on our courts? Sure, but that’s normal, anyway, and at least this way, you finally got a way to find relief for your… uh, let’s call it ‘anger issues’, in a legal manner. But to say it was controversial…? God… you still remember the riots. Worst few weeks of your life, right there.
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…Well, maybe you wouldn’t go that far.
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But what you didn’t expect was for them to be let loose and breed like flies in the wild, untamed concrete jungles we humans call home. And you certainly didn’t expect them to single-handedly do so much damage that entire cities basically collapsed onto themselves in a matter of months under the strain… all just to line the pockets of the richest companies in the world. God knows they’ll never face consequences for it, either… they’ve already bought the courts. Best we common folk can do is grit our teeth and bear it… just as before. In that sense, nothing much changed at all, really.
You hate the hugbox mayor for letting the damage get this severe, true. But at the same time… the one thing that may just make all this worth it, is the opportunity to take out your anger on whatever poor, unfortunate stray fluffies you happen to stumble upon… and god knows they’ll always be more, the trash laying about is practically the ideal environment for the shitrats to breed and survive… among the refuse of civilization. How fitting.
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“…Peep…”
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You pause. Ahh… that sounds like some stress relief calling.
You begin searching the nearby area, throwing trash aside as you look for the source of the noise. After such a shitty day at work, you know exactly what you need, and you know you heard it, it’s here… somewhere. You toss aside an empty pizza box, and finally, there it is. It took some digging, sure, but eventually, you find what you were looking for.
There, hidden amongst the discard, resting on an old, damp sock, was an adorable, teeny, tiny, little, itty, bitty, baby fluffy foal. It was so small, you nearly didn’t notice it among the piles of old paper and plastic, and the foul-smelling food waste spilling all around you… you almost thought it was just a piece of glass. Noting how its stubby little legs were pointing straight up, you lean in to inspect the foal up close, checking to see if it’s still alive… but no, the poor thing doesn’t seem to be breathing.
It must’ve died of starvation some time after being abandoned here, alone and cold, unaware of anything existing at all for the entirety of its short, miserable life, but confusion, fear, longing, and pain… as it slowly died, in agony… doomed from the moment it was born, by apathetic forces far beyond its ability to comprehend… the very same forces who were supposed to keep it safe and happy. It likely never experienced love… hell, it likely never even knew what that was.
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…As it deserves, of course. The sight fills you with… unimaginable delight. God, how it must’ve suffered… you smile at the thought. But, it this one is dead… what made that peeping sound?
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…Wait!
Suddenly, a raindrop falls from above, hitting the little foal right in the face (hilarious), and it visibly flinches from the impact. In a flash, it begins to squirm around a bit… though barely. You watch in amusement as the pitiful thing desperately tries to move to escape the source of discomfort, but it’s too weak to even flip itself over from its back to its side, instead opting to weakly waggle its little legs around in the air, lightly guiding them to one side, than the other… barely moving. It must be weakened from the starvation… you happen to know the first meal is usually the most important for a newborn foal.
Its fluff is a pale cream color… it also appeared to, uh… be a male, too. God, look at this thing… it was tiny. Only about the size of a peanut… you could fit it completely within the pad of your thumb. Only newborn foals are this small, you know from experience. If it were any more than a day old, it would’ve already been bigger than this. You watch as its tiny little chest heaves, up and down, slowly, its breathing both shallow and weak, as it continues to gasp in wordless hunger.
It’s such a deeply satisfying sight, watching this tiny, infant foal slowly starving to death in the freezing rain, hidden amongst piles of other, comparably disgusting trash… you suddenly feel that strange, but familiar sensation once more; a deep rush of adrenaline and warmth that fills your chest to the brim and burns your face. You don’t know what a doctor might call it, but you do know what you’ve taken to calling it.
Bloodlust.
The little foal gets hit in the face again by yet another raindrop, visibly flinching, scrunching its tiny muzzle. You idly consider that the rain must be picking up, but those thoughts are gleefully shoved aside in favor of considering the sheer distress this little guy must be feeling… you smile some more. The foal flails a bit, then goes strangely still as it takes a deep breath, like it was building up its energy, before letting out yet another tiny peep, visibly straining from the exertion… it must be so weak, practically on the verge of death already.
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“…Peep…”
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You feel a sudden, overwhelming urge to fucking smash the little shit into a fucking paste with a hammer, or to crush its tiny body with your thumb, or to pop its little head like you were crushing a tiny eggshell, or to violently tear it into shreds with your teeth, or… or… you take a deep breath. Damn it… you’ve been through this before. This feeling… it doesn’t go away on its own until something cute dies screaming. Oh, well… I guess, at least you know what to do, right?
You reach down and lightly tap the tiny foal on the head. It flinches and waves its little legs around in protest… though it tried, it failed to make a sound that time. Thankfully, it still seems to be lively enough to horrifically torture to death. Lovely! You give the foal a light tap on the belly… light for you, but a rough jab for such a pathetic creature. It lets out a silent scream, too starved to properly vocalize its distress… its still closed eyes also fail to emote it.
It flails weakly like an idiot.
You carefully place your finger into its belly, and- valiantly resisting the urge to crush its abdomen into paste and watch as it screams its last breath- watch as the little baby flinches in panic, then relaxes at your comforting touch, before grasping at your finger with all four of the round spheres it would likely call its ‘widdle babbeh weggies’, if only it could talk… and begins to suckle your fingertip diligently, desperate for any food it can get.
Before it realizes there isn’t any milk for it, you retract your finger, chuckling internally as you see the adorable little foal suddenly topple over into its side without your support, its tiny body flinching with increasing discomfort as droplets of rain slowly moisten its thin fur, giving the foal a slight shine. The foal tries- and fails once more- to peep, before weakly waving its head around, yawning for milk. It curls up in an attempt to preserve body heat, shivering. You smile to yourself at the delightful suffering on display as you reach down into your pocket.
Pulling out a sewing pin (you were always prepared for impromptu foal torture, of course), you carefully line up with the gasping foal’s still-closed eyes. You pause a moment to take in just how pathetic this thing is, wait for it to make one last strained, desperate peep, before suddenly plunging the pin directly into one of its tiny eyes. Its mouth suddenly shoots wide open in a wordless scream- or at least, a scream by its standards, really it was just a short, tiny squeak, only a few decibels louder than its other tiny peeps.
“…Eep!”
Despite this, the little thing was far too weak to even really move, instead opting to simply shudder in place, idly waving its exhausted, stumpy little legs around, stuck frozen in silent suffering. Holding the delicate foal in place with a finger, you retract the sewing pin before plunging it back in, over and over again, repeatedly perforating its tiny eye. You giggle like a schoolchild as you watch it weakly flail its little leggies around in some pitiful attempt to stop the source of the horrific pain currently wracking its tiny body.
“Ee!… Ee!!… Ee-e!…”
Once the tiny trickle of blood from its eye sufficiently soaked through its adorable peach-fuzz fur, you switch to stabbing its other eye, delighting as the little baby beneath your grasp tries its absolute best to screech in incomprehensible suffering… but only amounting to tiny eeeps. You giggle some more at the feeling of such a delicate creature writhing in agony beneath your grip.
When its eyes are fully perforated, you carefully reach down and gently grab one of the foal’s little, tiny, itty-bitty leggies, barely more than a rounded stump attached to its body. The foal wiggles around a bit, showing the contact is clearly unwanted as it continues to try and fail to vocalize its distress. Lightly pinching the tiny stump, you pull up slightly, forcing the foal to pivot into its back.
The increasingly torrential rain is now directly hitting its face, and our foal begins flinching sharply as its brutally pummeled by raindrops each individually bigger than even one of its legs. You find yourself almost giggling to yourself as this minuscule creature twitches repeatedly, misery etched on its fuzzy face, as it silently begs for an end to its torment.
It rapidly flexes its mouth open and closed, seemingly trying to peep, but unable to, as every time it opens up, a raindrop immediately slams into its open gullet, stealing its breath away and forcing it to either spit up or swallow. The fucking thing is getting practically drenched by little more than a drizzle! God, it can’t even breathe… what a pathetic little cunt.
You grin like a maniac as it weakly waves its little baby head back and forth, shifting its body left and right as it desperately tries to find an angle where it can survive the rain, but is seemingly unable to. You’re surprised; it’s so weak, it can’t even rotate its head to the side… it’s literally drowning in the rain. You suppose you underestimated just, how… how… useless, these things truly are.
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…Again.
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In one motion, you pinch as hard as you can, instantly pulverizing the miniscule creature’s teeny, tiny ‘widdle leggie into paste.
“…Plblep!!”
It cries out with all its might, water and spittle ejecting from its mouth as it softly throws its head back in utter agony. It freezes, going stiff as a board for a second, then falls limp, before finally, it begins squirming like never before, wriggling in a desperate attempt to wrench its ruined leg from your grasp, tiny mind consumed with agony.
You start to laugh as it writhes beneath you. You grind your fingers a bit, directly stimulating the now-exposed nerves in its obliterated leg. Despite the pain, you still find it barely moves at all… so pitiful. The peanut-sized foal tries again to peep for help as tiny tears roll down its fluffy cheeks- or at least, you presume, it’s so damp now you doubted you could tell the difference.
“…Ee! …Plb! Ee! …Pleb! Ee!! Ee!!…”
Adorable.
You begin the process of crushing its remaining leggies. You literally giggle to yourself at now hilariously easy it is to absolutely fucking eviscerate this little baby… god, you love how much you hate these things so much. So delicate, so fragile… torturing newborns is definitely the most fun you’ve ever had, except for… maybe chirpies. The primary difference is their size- more fat to stab and slice is always good- and, oh, how they screech.
The sight of its eyes shut tighter than it has ever likely had them before, and its tiny mouth open wide as it can go, screaming as hard as it could, but in its weakened state, barely managing a sound against the sound of the rain constantly pummelling its flinching, shivering body? You adjust your pants in hopes of hiding your raging erection. By the time your done, all four legs have been crushed… a trivial task, as easy as squishing a grape.
By the end, the foal was just lying there, silent, breathing heavily. It rested on its back, ruined leggies splayed out across the garbage on which it rested. The silence betrayed the horrific agony this tiny thing must be feeling as it desperately gasps for breath… its mouth slowly started filling up with water.
God, the rain is really picking up now… unfortunate. You hoped to do some work on it with your box-cutter, slice off its tiny, twitching tail, cut its little ears off, gut it like a filthy fucking fish… whatever, you didn’t like being wet, and there were more fluffies at home, anyway. This wasn’t nearly enough to quench your blood thirst… but it’ll have to do.
At least until you get home… there were some chirpies back home with your name on them.
Literally.
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“…Before I go, I have a parting gift for you… you pathetic fucking cunt…” you mutter to yourself, genuine vitriol seeping into your voice. God… getting angry over a toy. You just couldn’t help yourself sometimes…
In one motion, you pinch the foal’s tiny balls as hard as you can, crushing them completely. The baby foal immediately throws its head up and vomits acid, confirming it hadn’t had a single meal in its entire, short life. Its whole little world explodes into a cacophony of pure, blinding, indescribable agony.
“Eeep!! Eep!! Eeeeep!!!”
You take a moment to bask in its suffering as it writhes, before finally placing your thumb over the little guy, ready to crush him flat, once and for all.
“…Thanks for all the fun, you piece of shit…”
You press down as hard as you can, and the little foal thinks no more.
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…Well, that was fun. Better hurry back home before the rain picks up any more…
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…I wonder what’s on television right now?