Year 2111 Jan 2
Hunter was sitting on his Laz E boy watching TV.
He was watching the news, and while nothing interesting seemed to show up, he turned his head to check the time.
He was waiting for 3pm because he had planned a hunting trip with his friends. Almost when he processed that it was still 20 minutes until the planned trip, the TV had a bright change of color which caught Hunter’s attention, with text that said
BREAKING NEWS!
The TV switched to a guy talking to someone beside him holding a paper. The man pointed to the screen and he realized it was filming. He dusted his suit off and a started talking into his microphone while looking at the screen.
“Hello Kolsara you want to hear this!”
The TV showed a picture of a bunch of people in white lab coats and goggles standing in a room.
“Hasbio has just reported the last wild fluffy pony has been terminated today! Expect your streets to be clean, and quiet!”
Hunter had always hated those things. He was genuinely surprised when he heard there are people who actually keep them as pets. They were disgusting, ugly, less than animal, creatures that had no place on Earth with everything else.
He was actually relieved to find out the things were gone, because he had multiple encounters with them. His natural instinct was to just step on them and boom, they are gone. Sometime he did, however, use them for stress relieving purposes.
This news was kind of expected, as he saw less and less fluffy ponies out there, and it seemed their breed rates went way down after about 5 years.
It could just be a flaw in their base design, of course it is, there are an insane amount of flaw in these large rats.
After watching the last of the segment it was about to be 10 minutes until scheduled trip.
He stood up and went and grabbed his gun bag, quickly checking all the guns, making sure they are off, and lubricated. With a plastic bag of a couple hundred ammo, he went outside and they were waiting for him in a dark red pickuo truck.
“About time ay Hunter?” his friend John shouted from the drivers seat. “Was watching the news.” He said as he got in the back trunk with the other 2. “Anything interesting happen?” his other friend Kyle asked, who was sitting next to Fred, who had the best aim of all of them. Hunter said “Actually for once, yeah.” Kyle looked at him with a questioning look “Oh really?”
“You know them tiny pony things?” Hunter asked. “Yeah what about them? Did the block more sewers or something?” Kyle said with a joking tone.
“Actually, apparently they are extinct apparently.”
“Well about time innit?” Fred said while inserting gunpowder into gun with a rod. Hunter never really understood why he used an old model gun.
“I suppose so, but hey, if we see one we should consider not shooting it.”
“What? You think anyone gonna actually want a fluffy pony? Even a rare one?” Kyle said, clearly not understanding what he was suggesting. “I think we should try to hold onto one, so I can maybe breed them.” Hunter suggested.
“You? Breeding those things?” Fred said.
“I can’t imagine you actually would want to do that.” Kyle responded. Hunter explained he just needed some money, so if he becomes a breeder, he could get alot of money, taking advantage of the hugboxers, or selling them for alot to stress abusers.
“I suppose, but what if you can’t find another one? Much less a female?” Fred questioned him. “Then I’ll just kill it and move on.” He was thinking about alot more than just killing it. A little while later, they were talking about rare coins buried underground in this area, because of some ancient indian burial ritual. When they arrived to the destination, they went to their spot by the edge of the hill, where they always have gone to hunt for multiple years now. They treaded along the path they made down the hill and made it into the forest area, where they actually hunt. Kyle, their trapper, went around and set up several rabbit traps with a horn to notify them when they went off, and a couple bear traps. This area is one of the few fully natural areas left in the world, so noone else should be around for a couple hundred miles.
They continued down their usual path and went right above a small lump of earth and saw deer.
Kyle silenced the others and Fred got his gun ready, putting it in a crease in the dirt, holding it in place. Putting his eye up to the scope, he took a deep breath, held it, exhaled and pulled the trigger.
One shot one kill, as usual.
“Boom! That’s what we like to see!” Kyle yelled as a small red explosion appeared in the deers side, and it fell over, dead.
Incredible job Fred.
The rest if the day was like this, and the bagged quite a large bounty with their tags. After the trip was done they all celebrated by going to the bar after cleaning up.
They had a crazy time, losing their minds with drunkeness, a couple people got into a massive fight in the bar, breaking some stuff, but noone was badly injured.
Hunter left the bar and was on his walk back home, feeling sick and annoyed, with a beer bottle in his hand, he was tired and had to walk back home. The rest was hard to remember for Hunter, he had apparently found a fluffy pony at some point on his walk back home, and it had followed him all the way.
When he woke up the next day he felt miserable, so he went into the shower and had breakfast. He looked around for the TV remote and sat down, when he felt something on his leg. He leaned foward to see what it was.
A green fluffy with a blue mane was scratching his legs. “Am suu hungwy, and wonewy. Pwez giv nice nummies nice mista.” Hunter, in his shocked quickly kicked his leg foward, knocking the fluffy off and across the carpet where it hit the wall with a pathetic little squeak. Pissing and shitting itself he squealed “Wai meanie munsta huwt fwufi? am jus a hungwy fwuiffie.” and its started the usual series of wai wai and boo hoos.
Still feeling the toll of the bar fight on his body he was not feeling like dealing with this shit right now, he picked it up and out it outside, grabbing his phone and took a picture of it. Sending to his friends the picture, they were amazed at his odd luck.
Hunter got an idea, a cruel idea. He got one of his old cameras and set it up over a metal table he had stored in his attic. He grabbed a set of old plastic forks and butter knives and a hot glue gun.
Going back outside he quickly grabbed the hairy shit by its scruff, while it was squealing in its pain, and viciously put a generous amount of hot glue on the soft hooves of the thing, and stuck it on the metal table. He started recording the thing with tears streaming down its face. It stopped screaming and was straining to speak, “w- wwai hurt little babey fwuff, only wunt numies and wuv!”
He grabbed the plastic fork and started by jabbing it into his side, multiple times. Eventually, after about ten jabs, it started bleeding. The fluffy was squeeling with a crazed look in its eyes. Clearly the pain of hunger had been little to nothing of what it was feeling now.
Grabbing the butter knife he started slowly slicing the skin off the fluffy. It was hard to not to stab[quote=“Deez, post:1, topic:58031, full:true”]
Year 2111 Jan 2
Hunter was sitting on his Laz E boy watching TV.
He was watching the news, and while nothing interesting seemed to show up, he turned his head to check the time.
He was waiting for 3pm because he had planned a hunting trip with his friends. Almost when he processed that it was still 20 minutes until the planned trip, the TV had a bright change of color which caught Hunter’s attention, with text that said
BREAKING NEWS!
The TV switched to a guy talking to someone beside him holding a paper. The man pointed to the screen and he realized it was filming. He dusted his suit off and a started talking into his microphone while looking at the screen.
“Hello Kolsara you want to hear this!”
The TV showed a picture of a bunch of people in white lab coats and goggles standing in a room.
“Hasbio has just reported the last wild fluffy pony has been terminated today! Expect your streets to be clean, and quiet!”
Hunter had always hated those things. He was genuinely surprised when he heard there are people who actually keep them as pets. They were disgusting, ugly, less than animal, creatures that had no place on Earth with everything else.
He was actually relieved to find out the things were gone, because he had multiple encounters with them. His natural instinct was to just step on them and boom, they are gone. Sometime he did, however, use them for stress relieving purposes.
This news was kind of expected, as he saw less and less fluffy ponies out there, and it seemed their breed rates went way down after about 5 years.
It could just be a flaw in their base design, of course it is, there are an insane amount of flaw in these slightly larger rats.
After watching the last of the segment it was about to be 10 minutes until scheduled trip.
He stood up and went and grabbed his gun bag, quickly checking all the guns, making sure they are off, and lubricated. With a plastic bag of a couple hundred ammo, he went outside and they were waiting for him in a dark red pickuo truck.
“About time ay Hunter?” his friend John shouted from the drivers seat. “Was watching the news.” He said as he got in the back trunk with the other 2. “Anything interesting happen?” his other friend Kyle asked, who was sitting next to Fred, who had the best aim of all of them. Hunter said “Actually for once, yeah.” Kyle looked at him with a questioning look “Oh really?”
“You know them tiny pony things?” Hunter asked. “Yeah what about them? Did the block more sewers or something?” Kyle said with a joking tone.
“Actually, apparently they are extinct apparently.”
“Well about time innit?” Fred said while inserting gunpowder into gun with a rod. Hunter never really understood why he used an old model gun.
“I suppose so, but hey, if we see one we should consider not shooting it.”
“What? You think anyone gonna actually want a fluffy pony? Even a rare one?” Kyle said, clearly not understanding what he was suggesting. “I think we should try to hold onto one, so I can maybe breed them.” Hunter suggested.
“You? Breeding those things?” Fred said.
“I can’t imagine you actually would want to do that.” Kyle responded. Hunter explained he just needed some money, so if he becomes a breeder, he could get alot of money, taking advantage of the hugboxers, or selling them for alot to stress abusers.
“I suppose, but what if you can’t find another one? Much less a female?” Fred questioned him. “Then I’ll just kill it and move on.” He was thinking about alot more than just killing it. A little while later, they were talking about rare coins buried underground in this area, because of some ancient indian burial ritual when they arrived to the destination. They went to their spot by the edge of the hill, where they always have gone to hunt for multiple years now. They treaded along the path they made down the hill and made it into the forest area, where they actually hunt. Kyle, their trapper, went around and set up several rabbit traps with a horn to notify them when they went off, and a couple bear traps. This area is one of the few natural areas left in the world, so noone else should be around for a couple hundred miles.
They continued down their usual path and went right above a small lump of earth and saw deer.
Kyle silenced the others and Fred got his gun ready, putting it in a crease in the dirt, holding it in place. Putting his eye up to the scope, he took a deep breath, held it, exhaled and pulled the trigger.
One shot one kill, as usual.
“Boom! That’s what we like to see!” Kyle yelled as a small red explosion appeared in the deers side, and it fell over, dead.
Incredible job Fred.
The rest if the day was like this, and the bagged quite a large bounty with their tags. After the trip was done they all celebrated by going to the bar after cleaning up.
They had a crazy time, losing their minds with drukeness, a couple people got into a massive fight in the bar, breaking some stuff, but noone was badly injured.
Hunter left the bar and was on his walk back home, feeling sick and annoyed, with a beer bottle in his hand, he was tired and had to walk back home. The rest was hard to remember for Hunter, he had apparently found a fluffy pony at some point on his walk back home, and it had followed him all the way.
When he woke up the next day he felt miserable, so he went into the shower and had breakfast. He looked around for the TV remote and sat down, when he felt something on his leg. He leaned foward to see what it was.
A green fluffy with a blue mane was scratching his legs. “Am suu hungwy, and wonewy. Pwez giv nice nummies nice mista.” Hunter, in his shocked quickly kicked his leg foward, knocking the fluffy off and across the carpet where it hit the wall with a pathetic little squeak. Pissing and shitting itself he squealed “Wai meanie munsta huwt fwufi? am jus a hungwy fwuiffie.” and its started the usual series of wai wai and boo hoos.
Still feeling the toll of the bar fight on his body he want feeling like dealing with this shit right now, he picked it up and out it outside, grabbing his phone and took a picture of it. Sending to his friends the picture, they were amazed at his odd luck.
Hunter got an idea, a cruel, but a beneficial idea. He got one of his old cameras and set it up over a metal table he had stored in his attic. He grabbed a set of old plastic forks and butter knives and a hot glue gun.
Going back outside he quickly grabbed the hairy shit by its scruff, while it was squeeling in its pain, and viciously put a generous amount of hot glue on the soft hooves of the thing, and stuck it on the metal table. He started recording the thing with tears streaming down its face. It stopped screaming and was straining to speak, “w- wwai hurt little babey fwuff, only wunt numies and wuv!”
He grabbed the plastic fork and started by jabbing it into his side, multiple times. Eventually, after about ten jabs, it started bleeding. The fluffy was squeeling with a crazed look in its eyes. Clearly the pain of hunger had been little to nothing of what it was feeling now.
Grabbing the butter knife he started slowly slicing the skin off the fluffy. It was hard not to punch it with how much it was thrashing pathetically, trying to escape the powerful clutches of hot glue, to no avail.
The knife was starting to wear out and started to snap. A small patch of bloodied flesh and meat was peering out of the fluff on the thing. It turned around and saw the missing skin and immediately started squeeling in shock as it realized the pain it was feeling was surely going to kill him.
Hunter grabbed another knife and gouged its eyes out, it was starting to scream hoarsley. He put the ugly large eyes in the fluffies mouth as it started violently twitching and shaking. Forcing the eyes down its throat, still shaking, it screamed “wai feed fwuffy see places!? see pwaces not nummies!!”
It occured to Hunter he had been smiling with his teeth as he was slowly slicing away at the fluffies flesh. He was getting thirsty.
He grabbed a large bottled beer from his cooler and started chugging. The fluffy was crying without its eyes. His mind started feeling hazy again and with the camera still recording, began using hands for the work. He grabbed the scruff of the fluffy and tore it into two slices as it spouted blood everywhere.
The fluffy was starting to get free of the hot glue with hiw much it was thrashing and screaming. It started to get tired and run out of breath. He was shitting himself leaving a nasty brown stain all over it backside. This was beginning to bore the drunk sadism that was invading Hunter’s mind.
He grabbed the now empty beer bottle and smashed it on the fluffies head. It started swinging its head around dizzily, its eye sockets open. He grabbed the shards of glass and stuck them into the fluffies mouth, asshole, and raw flesh patches. The fluffy started foaming at the mouth and managaed to get its back legs out of the glue.
Hunter grabbed the half broken beer bottle and started ripping through the flesh of the fluffy and through all the different red tendrils and tendons all the way to the bone. Hunter simple snapped the bone with his hands with a satisfying crunch.
The fluffy was basically passed out at this point, enjoying sleep. Hunter decided to shave all the fur off of the gross thing and throw it in the cooler.
Setting the temperature to a comfortable 34° F he waited until he heard it and when he heard it crying, he took it and put the thinf into the oven, for about 12 seconds. It was somehow still alive.
Hunter put the fluffy on his back porch, and cleaned up the bloody mess. He put the table back into the attic, and the glass into the trash. Mopping all the blood up off the floor, he grabs the camera and face it towards the fire. Grabbing the fluffy, blind, helpless, silent and possibly dead, he stands near the flames, staring into them.
Losing himself for a moment he tosses the fluffy into the fire and sees it, one last time, as it snaps back awake and with a open mouth, no noise, thrashes around one last time as the flames eat up the last fluffy, it vomits and stays alive for too long. You grab a forked prong and stab the fluffy multiple times until you can smell the burning stench of burning flesh.
Hunter wakes up.
“I need to lay off the beer…”
He says to himself as he opens the door to the bar, and walks home.
[/quote]
it with how much it was thrashing pathetically, trying to escape the powerful clutches of hot glue, to no avail.
The knife was starting to wear out and started to snap. A small patch of bloodied flesh and meat was peering out of the fluff on the thing. It turned around and saw the missing skin and immediately started squeeling in shock as it realized the pain it was feeling was surely going to kill him.
Hunter grabbed another knife and gouged its eyes out, it was starting to scream hoarsley. He put the ugly large eyes in the fluffies mouth as it started violently twitching and shaking. Forcing the eyes down its throat, still shaking, it screamed “wai feed fwuffy see places!? see pwaces not nummies!!”
It occured to Hunter he had been smiling with his teeth as he was slowly slicing away at the fluffies flesh. He was getting thirsty.
He grabbed a large bottled beer from his cooler and started chugging. The fluffy was crying without its eyes. His mind started feeling hazy again and with the camera still recording, began using hands for the work. He grabbed the scruff of the fluffy and tore it into two slices as it spouted blood everywhere.
The fluffy was starting to get free of the hot glue with hiw much it was thrashing and screaming. It started to get tired and run out of breath. He was shitting himself leaving a nasty brown stain all over it backside. This was beginning to bore the drunk sadism that was invading Hunter’s mind.
He grabbed the now empty beer bottle and smashed it on the fluffies head. It started swinging its head around dizzily, its eye sockets open. He grabbed the shards of glass and stuck them into the fluffies mouth, asshole, and raw flesh patches. The fluffy started foaming at the mouth and managaed to get its back legs out of the glue.
Hunter grabbed the half broken beer bottle and started ripping through the flesh of the fluffy and through all the different red tendrils and tendons all the way to the bone. Hunter simple snapped the bone with his hands with a satisfying crunch.
The fluffy was basically passed out at this point, enjoying sleep. Hunter decided to shave all the fur off of the gross thing and throw it in the cooler.
Setting the temperature to a comfortable 34° F he waited until he heard it and when he heard it crying, he took it and put the thinf into the oven, for about 12 seconds. It was somehow still alive.
Hunter put the fluffy on his back porch, and cleaned up the bloody mess. He put the table back into the attic, and the glass into the trash. Mopping all the blood up off the floor, he grabs the camera and face it towards the fire. Grabbing the fluffy, blind, helpless, silent and possibly dead, he stands near the flames, staring into them.
Losing himself for a moment he tosses the fluffy into the fire and sees it, one last time, as it snaps back awake and with a open mouth, no noise, thrashes around one last time as the flames eat up the last fluffy, it vomits and stays alive for too long. You grab a forked prong and stab the fluffy multiple times until you can smell the burning stench of burning flesh.
Hunter wakes up.
“I need to lay off the beer…”
He says to himself as he opens the door to the bar, and walks home.