“Well, that one’s dead.” Douglas stood near the fence, staring down at the body of the purple mare. An eye was missing, and her stomach was ripped open, leaving entrails scattered about as maggots writhed and coiled about her, telling the big man she’d been dead for a few days at best. Judging from the marks and such, the others didn’t kill her; fluffies didn’t have claws, last he checked, so had to be a falcon or something. Oh well.
Still, her being outside the barn meant the others probably exiled her. So, at the very least, the herd didn’t like killing one of their own, if they could help it. An interesting fact to note, but today he needed a pair to breed. The last foals from the saferoom were sold off, which meant another litter had to fill in. So, with his mind made up, the big man tugged his little notepad out and stepped over the fence, heading for the barn.
Upon opening the door, Douglas smelt the rancid stench of shit. His eyes narrowed, and he saw a wet, oozing pile of it smack dab in the middle of the barn. The fluffies were all fast asleep, something he changed by slamming his hand against the doorframe, awakening them with a chorus of screeches and shrieks of terror.
“Who did it?” He calmly asked. He pointed his pen at the shit, and one of the stallions quickly pointed at a blue colored mare. “Her?”
“Mummah angwy hew babbehs am gone!” He frightfully confessed. Smart one.
Douglas approached said mare who, upon seeing him, just…puffed her cheeks. “Dummeh daddeh! gib mummah back hew babbehs!” She demanded. Douglas remained unbothered. He just calmed down; he wanted to be nice and lucid to handle the punishment.
“Why did you make bad poopies?” He asked. At the mention of the term, it put the other fluffies on alert.
“'cos mummah wants hew babbehs back! NAO GIB DEM BACK!” So, she was attempting to strongarm him. Douglas just shook his head and, in a flash, snatched her up by the scruff.
“Nu! nu gib owwies tu speshuw fwend!” A red colored stallion cried, rushing over. Douglas whipped his head around and stared down at him.
“You wanna be next?” He coldly asked. The stallion, despite the threat, looked defiant. Aside from the shaking in fear.
“W-wet speshuw fwend go, ow fwuffy gib sowwy poopies!” He frightfully declared. Douglas stared down at him. The stallion was clearly scared shitless of him, yet still seemed ready to dig himself in an even deeper hole to protect his “mate”. It was admirable, in a sad sense.
The stallion, all the same, turned around and raised his tail. Douglas knew he could have easily kicked the moron across the room and let him learn a painful lesson…but he had a better idea. Quickly, he turned his head and knelt, raising the mare right in the path of the stallion’s puckering asshole.
The mare quickly caught on. “SPESHUWL FWEND! NU—” He heard the liquid splatter of shit long before he smelt it and heard the mare’s agonized cries of panic and disgust as her mate, effectively, covered her in shit. Some splattered around him and got on his shoes, but he could always wash them off. Her, on the other hand…
The torrent of liquid shit ended, and Douglas dropped the mare to the ground. Her entire front was painted brown, staining her fluff and making her dry heave, utterly horrified by what happened. The stallion turned and gasped at the sight. “Nu! nu mean to gib sowwy poopies!”
“’OU DUMMEH! SPESHUWL FWEND BIG DUMMEH!” She screamed at him between choked sobs, trying not to upchuck her kibble.
“Buh…Fwuffy was twyin’ to hewp!” He cried, already breaking into waterworks. Douglas took it as his cue to reach down and snatch the stallion up by the scruff. “SCREEE! BAD UPPIES!” With that, he carried the sobbing, pained stallion out the barn and towards the faithful Pit, though this time, he didn’t bother forcing the others to witness what was to happen.
The display he did earlier was probably enough. After all, to a fluffy, it was unheard of to simply use one of them as a shield from sorry poopies. But, now that they knew, he had a feeling they’d be less inclined to do it. And, if not, they could always learn a shitty lesson.
With that amusing pun out the way, Douglas dropped the stallion into the Pit, earning a cry of pain. “Stay there. Not like you got a choice.” With that, he stepped away from the Pit and, after crossing the fence, headed for the house. He needed to get some stuff together for this. Instill a harsh lesson.
Douglas quickly worked his way through the house, passing the saferoom and waving good afternoon to Ruddy who, as always, eagerly returned the gesture.
…in fact.
“Hey, Ruddy.” He called. The good stallion perked up. “You wanna help me punish a bad fluffy? He gave his special friend sorry poopies.”
Ruddy gasped. “That’s tewwibwe! wuddy hewp! wuddy hewp punish bad fwuffy!”
“Good.” He was much more delicate with him, lifting him out the saferoom and letting the stallion follow behind him as he walked into the kitchen, snatching up a knife from the block and a tube of Insta-Heal Gel he left behind as a nice just in case. With his supplies, he picked Ruddy up and held him under his arm as he left the house and returned to the Pit, finding the stallion still in the same spot, sobbing his eyes out.
“huu…hab biggest heawt huwties…” He sobbed. Douglas didn’t even bother alerting him and just stepped into the Pit, gingerly setting Ruddy down with him.
“So, Ruddy, here’s how this goes,” His voice alerted the stallion who cowered at the sight if the knife in his hand. “this one here tried blasting me with shit and hit his special friend. Now, I’m punishing him regardless, but I want you to decide what happens to him.”
“Wuddy pick?” He asked.
Douglas nodded. “Yep. So, I can take off one of his leggies, your choice,” The stallion broke into even more waterworks, soiling the concrete below him with tears and urine. “leave him out here all day, and night, with no food, or see if Gabby wants to mess him up for a minute.”
Ruddy thought on it; Douglas practically saw the gears turning in his little mind over the prospect. It was almost eerily amusing; most fluffies, when presented with such a choice, would try to save the other or, if they could, pick a punishment that caused as little pain as possible. Ruddy, on the other hand, was actively pondering which to inflict. “Weggie.” Ruddy declared. “Take back weggie!”
“Well, you heard him.” As he expected, the stallion tried to run. Douglas shot his hand down and caught the fucker by the tail, giving it a firm yank and making the stallion shriek.
“WORSTEST HURTIES!!!” He screeched.
“Wouldn’t be if you didn’t run.” Douglas yanked the stallion back and, with his distraction, grabbed one of the back legs. A firm twist later and it was dislocated, causing the stallion to spasm and writhe on the ground in agony over his dislocated limb. He spasmed so much he didn’t even scream when Douglas brought the knife down, gristly sawing through the leg and severing it. With the limb amputated, he applied a slather of the healing gel and stood up, staring down at the sobbing, shivering stallion. “Now, what’ve we learned?” He reached down and grabbed the stallion by the scruff. “Do not try to shit at me. You see me punishing someone, you stay out. Next time, I’m doing two punishments.” With the deed done, Douglas returned to the barn and, curtly, dropped the amputated stallion down on the floor. The others gasped at his lack of a leg.
“Same lesson I told him.” He began. “You try to play hero, I’m not going easy on you. So,” He pointed at the shit-caked mare. “Clean up your mess. It better be gone by the time I get back.”
“Buh…how fwuffy cwean?” She pitifully asked.
“Figure it out. Eat it, wipe it up with yourself; don’t care. It best be gone in an hour, otherwise,” He pointed at the stallion. “You get it worse than him.” Her sobbing continued. Douglas turned and left the barn, returning to the Pit and scooping Ruddy back up.
“Did wuddy do gud?” The stallion asked.
“Very. You’re acting as devious as me.” He smirked at the thought. “But save it for the foals…ah damnit! Was supposed to breed two of those outdoor fluffies together…” Douglas squinted at the barn and kept walking. “Fuck it, I’ve come too far…speaking of, you ever have yogurt before, Ruddy?”
“Nu…it gud?” The stallion asked.
“Eh, good if you get the ones without the fruit. Always hate biting down and feeling something squish against my teeth.”
He found it ironic he could beat a fluffy to death with his bare hands, yet that bothered him.
[And a quick, fun one; a dash of abuse and a dash of hugbox. I’ve been busy these past few weeks, and so I wanted to get something decent, but quick. Wanting to show Ruddy’s getting as pragmatic as Douglas is, and he’s touching into abuser territory just a bit…but pragmatic abuse; business and whatnot.
I’m still considering expanding to doing exterminator stories, but I’d need to think. I do wanna try some bleakbox, but perhaps down the road. Until then, thanks for reading.]
