“Karma.”
By Solidus.
“SCREEE!!! PWEASE NO HUWT BABBEH! BABBEH WUVS YOU MUMMAH!”
You stopped as you exited you shed, and looked in the direction of the sound. A brood of ferals, a mother and her babies.
In front of her, clearly malnourished, was a small foal, a bright banana yellow black stripes, a white mane, and fluttering wings. His appearance, overall, reminded you of an oversized bumblebee. Cute thing.
“Mummah hatechu, stupid ugwy munstah babbeh takes too many miwkies, bestest babbeh needs miwkies!”
The “Bestest” was utterly obese, the same eye-burning shade of neon green as it’s mother. The other babies looked upset, a pretty, grey-blue one spoke next.
“Mummah, pwease no give bwudda foweba sweepies……wub bwudda…” It said, crying. The mother shoved it aside. “Shuddup, not-bestest babbeh!”
Okay, that was enough.
“What the fuck are you doing?” You said, stepping between the mother and her foal as she raised a hoof, presumably to crush the poor thing.
“Hewwo human! You give sketties and housie to mummah and bestest?” She asked, moodswinging on a dime and holding up the fat fuck green baby. “Give sketties to bestest babbeh!” It demanded.
You stop. You’re not giving her, or that overweight, ugly fucker anything but pain. But saying that will scare them off.
“Sure………I’ll give you all exactly what you deserve!” you say, picking up the yellow and black striped foal. He trembled in your palm. You could see his pelvis and ribs.
“Why give munstah babbeh upsies!?” The mare demanded, charging forward and knocking down her other babies.
“I’m keeping it away from you so it doesn’t steal any milk. In fact….” You gently pick up the rest. The blue-bird-colored one who had spoken out, male, a pink male, a bright teal female, and a handsome little black filly with a silver mane. That one didn’t speak, instead chirping and peeping, looking up at you and sucking it’s hoof. All of them are skinny, underfed, with visible backbones and hollow cheeks instead of the fat, rounded cheeks of a healthy foal.
“This way NONE of them will get milkies but bestest.” You said, holding the foals to your chest.
“You am smawt, nyu daddeh!” The mare said, nodding smugly.
Keep it up, bitch, you’re going to regret all of this.
You turned, and walked, while the mare’s fat progeny rode on her back, and she waddled after you. “Where you taking not-bestests?”
You smile. “Oh, I have plans for them, don’t you worry.” You say, taking the brood inside. “You two. Wait right here, fluffies who stand on the magic soft pad get SKETTIES!” you tell the two following you. The mare plants her ass, and the bestest squeals in delight. You step inside, and close the screen door. Once you’re a few steps in and the bestest’s noxious voice drowns out all other sound, you hold the others close.
“You little ones okay?” you whisper.
The blue male nods. “Nice mistah, you saving babbehs from munstah mummah?” it asks.
“I am. Nobody will hurt you here, I promise.”
You bring them to your saferoom. The sound of foals playing, and multiple adult fluffies talking, singing, and laughing fills their ears. They look over your fingers, and they smile.
The little bee-colored one tugs at your thumb. “What is it, little man?”
“Babbeh have wowstest tummeh huwties……need miwkies……dun wanna go foweva sweepies….” he whimpers. “You’ll be okay, I’m gonna give you a new mommy, she’ll be very, very nice.” You say, petting his little head. He coos, and tears run down his cheeks. Poor little thing.
You kneel before a fat, smiling mummah.
“Heya Rose!” You say. She looks up at you, beaming. “I have some babies here who had a VERY bad mummah. She hasn’t fed them. I need you to take care of them for me. Think you can?”
“WOSE WUB BABBEHS!” She says, gasping in joy, and putting out her hooves. You hand her the yellow and black foal. She looks at him in wonder. “Babbeh am so PWETTY!” She says, hugging him close.
Your heart breaks when you see a look of confusion on his face. He’d never been loved by a mother before. She quickly sets him to her teat, and he greedily sucks down milk, his wings buzzing. “Why his mummah no wub him, is so pwetty babbeh?”
“I don’t know, Rose. She’s just……bad, and wrong. None of these have been given enough milk, or hugs, or love. I expect you and the others to be good to them. Also this one….” You pet the grey and black one with your thumb, he’s hugging onto his teal sister. “I think he’s a special baby, probably a forever chirpy, make sure nobody roughhouses with him, he’s sweet.” You tell her, setting him in her forelegs. He looks up at his new mother, and smiles.
You can tell he’s not been given enough love as well.
“I’m going to trust you and Thistle to look after them like you do your own foals. I need to go take care of the bad mother.” You say.
“Daddeh?” Rose says, stopping you. “Yes, Rose?”
“Give hew wowstest huwties.”
Goddamn you love that mare.
— — — —
You return to the bestest and it’s mother. “Bad babies are getting everything they deserve. Time for your sketties. Sketties are found in the sketti shack!” You point to the shed outside. “And since you stayed on the magic soft pad……Wanna go to the sketti shack?” You asked, feigning enthusiasm.
This was going to be fun, you supposed, but you weren’t exactly enjoying the idea of spending time with these two jackoffs before hand.
“TAKE BESTEST TO SKETTI SHACK NAO!!! DUMMEH HOOMAN MAKE BESTEST BABBEH WAIT!” the foal shrieked.
You’d start with him. You motioned for them to follow you, and lead them back to your shed, holding the door open for them.
The mare and her hellspawn merrily trotted in, looking smug as fuck. You stepped in behind them.
And locked the door.
“Stupid fucking assholes.” You said. The mare gasped. “NO USE BAD WOWDSIES-“ You picked her up, and tossed her into the metal trashcan next to your work bench. “Shut up, you evil bitch.”
“Bestest! Save mummah!” She demanded, tapping her hooves on the metal. “No smeww pwetty down here!”
The foal looked at you, terrified. He had clocked that there was no spaghetti here. “D-dummeh hooman, give back mummah, ow…ow get sowwy poopies!” He threatened. You scruffed the little shit, and squeezed his stomach over the can. “Noooooo! Mummah no get poopies!” He cried. A torrent of foul, liquid shit sprayed onto his mother.
“SCREEEEE! Munstah hooman! NO TOUCH BESTEST BABBEH! NO MAKE BABBEH POOP ON MUMMA-“ You slammed the lid onto the can, and gave it a good kick.
You toss the fat green foal onto the work bench, and assess your options.
He puffed his cheeks at you. You figured the little bastard was empty, but corking him would be funny…. You didn’t have corks, but you did have wire nuts.
“First things first….” You said, pinning him down with one hand, and opening a toolbox with another, selecting the appropriate wire nut……and then going a size larger. Red were the largest you had. “You spew enough shit from your mouth, so I’ll close up the other end!”
You give the wire nut a good, hard shove.
“SCREEEEEEEEEE!!! NO TOUCH POOPIE PWACE!!! POOPIE PWACE HAVE WOWSTEST OWWIES!!! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” he shrieked, flailing his stubby legs. You crammed it in there as far as it would go, and twisted it slightly for good measure. The foal was crying and begging his mother to save him, you could hear her pleading from inside the can.
You held the foal with one hand, and lifted the lid off the can with the other. “Hey shitface, I got you baby here. I’m gonna kill him, slowly, and you’re gonna get to listen to all of it!” You said, shaking the foal in front of her eyes.
“Pwease no give bestest foweva sweepies! Bestest am bestest! No huwt babbeh! Huwt mummah instead!” She begged. You honestly kind of admired that, she wasn’t throwing her brat under the bus.
“No. I’m going to kill him. It’s gonna hurt, too, slow and painful.” You say.
“Why munstah hooman huwt babbeh……am ownwy widdwe babbeh….” The bestest asked.
“Because you and your bitch of a mother starved your siblings, and she was about to kill one, probably because you asked, right?” You say. The bestest nodded. “Dummah ugwy buggie cowowered babbeh!” He said.
“And that’s why you’re gonna die.”
You closed the lid on the can, and bring the fatass back to the workbench. “Now then……where do I wanna go with this……” You say, looking at a wall of tools. Nails, hammers, razor knives, drillbits, screwdrivers……oh you had quite the menu on hand here. “To start with, I want to keep you from moving around so much……so I’ll cripple two of your legs!”
“Pwease no take weggies….” he begged.
You frown, and flick him in the face. “I didn’t say I was taking your legs off, shitrat. I said I’m going to CRIPPLE you. Different things.” You chide, picking a pair of needle-nose pliers off the wall. “You particularly fond of any legs?” you ask. He shakes his head no, whimpering and staring at the tool. “Ah well, left front and right rear, seems good to me!” You say, grabbing the left front leg and holding it out.
“PWEASE NO HUWT FWUFFY! FWUFFY NO BE BAD FWUFFY EVER AGAIN!” he begs. You open the pliers and slide one of the jaws around finding the place where the hoof meets the ankle. “I just want you to know one thing before I do this.” You say, looking him in the eyes.
“W-What am dat?”
“That this is going to be incredibly, horribly painful.” You say, smiling coldly at him. He would have fear-shit in that moment, had he not been corked and empty. You shove the tip of the plier in.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
You roll your eyes, working the tool around a bit. “Don’t be so dramatic…” You mutter, forcing the tip of the plier down, down. You feel his tiny body seize harshly, you’d touched the nerves under the hoof. “Ah, there we are!” Now…… You close the pliers, and give a short, sharp yanking motion.
“SCREEEE-KAFF….” He wheezes, having screamed himself hoarse. The hoof cap comes away, and you drop it to the table. “One down, one to go.”
You repeat the process as he squirms and lets out raspy sounds of pain, begging in his shot voice for you to have mercy on him. You rip off the other hoof cap, and open the can again.
“Tore off two of his hooves.” You say, dropping them onto the mare.
“B-babbeh hoofsies……she mutters, eyes wide with shock as she looks at them. “Mummah……save….babbeh…” He rasps.
“BABBEH!!! BABBEH!!!” she begins to scream. You slam the lid shut on her. “Huu….” he cries, looking at you in terror. “Yo shitrat? Do you know what a battery is?” You ask, picking up a maglight and unscrewing the cap.
“Battewy?” He repeats dimly.
You dump out a D battery, and take up a screw driver and a hammer. “This” You gesture to it, is a battery. Inside of it, there’s something called acid.” You strike the battery, hard, and pop a hole in it, pouring the liquid into a small plastic tray. You dump the rest onto the mare, she screams in agony. “SEE PWACE BUWNIE HUWTIES!!!”
“Ouch. Tough shit, lady.” You say, grabbing the bestest and holding him, legs dangling, over the tray. You dip his front leg into it, and there’s a sizzling sound. “EEEEEEEEEE!” He lets out a pained wail, the exposed nerves and flesh cooking in the acid, burning white and raw. You leave him for a few seconds, then do the other leg. “That hurt?” You ask. He nods frantically. “Pwease……no mowe buwnie huwties……weggies huwt, poopie pwace huwrt…….wan mummah, wan huggies an miwkies……” He pleads.
That makes you mad.
“You got some nerve you little fuck. You want milk and hugs? You were letting your brothers and sisters STARVE and not get any milk or any hugs!” You yell at him. “Let’s see how much your bitch mare mom likes you after this…”
You take a stanley knife from the wall, and pop the blade out. “Say goodbye to your fluff, shitrat!”
“No! No take pwetty fwuff!” He said, trying to drag himself away. You yank him back by the tail, and begin to shave him as he cries. “Huu huu……No wike……want fwuff……” He whimpers as you scrape it off him. You nick him with the dull, rusted blade several times, hearing him yelp in pain. “Fucking stupid rat….” You hiss, finishing up by hacking off his tail.
You open the can, and drop the fluff and severed tail onto the mare. “Your baby is an ugly, bald, tailless freak with two ruined legs. Still your best?”
She looks at you with pure hate. “MUMMAH WUV BESTEST BABBEH! BESTEST BABBEH AM BESTEST NO MATTEW IF NO HAV FWUFF OR WEGGIES OR TAIW!” She shouts. You can see the acid landed in her right eye, burning it blind and searing off the skin next to it. She must be in horrible pain, covered in her offspring’s shit and corroded with battery acid.
“You know, if you kept that same energy with the rest of your babies, I would have adopted all of you and this wouldn’t be happening! But you had to go and have a bestest. You’ll have him back for the evening soon enough, I can’t be out here all night, after all, I need to go give hugs and love to all your OTHER babies, you know, the GOOD ones, the PRETTY ones, the ones who now live in a pretty saferoom with a new, nice momma and daddy, and who will have the best toys, food, bed, and of course, lots and lots of sketties.” You say, taunting her.
You almost think you see regret in her face. Then she puffs her cheeks at you. “Hatchu! Hate not-bestests!” She sneers.
You shrug, and wrap the bestest in chicken wire, clipping the ends to be sharp and pointing outwards. “Huuu huuu….no wan hab cowd thing on……wan fwuff back….” You decide to do one more thing before tossing him back. “You know, I really don’t like you. So I want you to know something: I’m going to be back tomorrow. And I’m going to do more of this to you. And to your mother, too.”
He screams, and you drop him onto his mother. She tries to hug him, but is repelled by the wire. “Munstah! Take off pokey thingies so can give betest huggies and wuv!” She demands. You shake your head. “No.” and close the lid.
— — — —
Rose smiled at the little of foster foals. They’d drank until they could stomach no more, and were sleeping peacefully now. The saferoom door opened, and she held a hoof up, shushing her daddeh. “Dey am sweeping babbehs.” She said, giggling. “Good work, Rose.” he said.
Her special friend, Thistle, walked over to daddeh. He pet the stallion on his head. “No fighting between them, Thistle?”
He shook his head no. “Dey am gud. The bwack babbeh am……weiwd, but Thiswe wike hew. She am vewy chiwpy.”
“Good work, you two. None of the other foals bothered them?” Daddeh asked, gesturing to the pile of their own foals.
“No, babbehs am happy to have nyu fwiends.”
Your daddeh nods, smiles, and gently closes the door.
— — — —
“RISE AND SHINE YOU FUCKERS!” you yell, tossing a small firecracker into the trashcan. “SCREEEE!!! SCREEEEEEE!” you can hear the two fluffies in the can wailing as it goes off, popping loudly inside the can and filling it with acrid smoke. You came prepared this time. A Car battery, rubber gloves, firecrackers, a plasma arc-lighter, a spool of stainless steel wire, some proper barbed wire, a box of carpet tacks. Total cost at the hardware store: 410 dollars.
Actual worth for this justice?
Priceless.
“Huuu huuuu……So sowwy bestest….no mean to make poopies on you….” the mare sobs. You smirk. Glorious. This could not be funnier if you planned it. “Instant poopy baby.” You remark dryly, looking into the can. “Meanie munstah!” the mare snaps back. “I have more of those firecrackers, you know. Bigger ones, at that.” you tell her, drumming your fingers on the side of the can.
She looks legitimately scared. You turn and walk away, fetching the garden hose from outside and hooking it up. You walk back to the shed, and pull the can out. Donning your rubber gloves, you reach inside and strangle the mare with one hand when she tries to bite at you, while plucking her foal away from her with the other. He’s covered in shit, shivering, bald, and ugly, missing two of his hooves, and those wounds have begun to fester from being in a filthy garbage can all night.
“Disgusting. You need a bath.” You say, holding up the spray nozzle of the hose to him. “Baff?”
“Water.”
“WAWA AM BAD FO- GLUUURG!” His protests are literally drowned out as you squeeze the handle and blast him in the face with a torrent of cold water.
“Babbeh! Nuuuu!” The mare screams, terrified of the “water monster” rinsing her little rat clean. You make sure he’s well soaked before you stop. He’s soaked and cold, coughing and gasping.
You lean over the can and douse his mother next as she screes.
“By the way, ugly, did you have milk last night?” You ask the foal, noting his round belly.
“Nu am ugwy……am bestest….” He whines. You pinch one of his ruined hooves. “SCREEEEEE!!! YES BABBEH HAVE MIWKIES!”
“Oh, that was a mistake. That was a horrible mistake.” You tell him.
“Did you give all the milk you had left?”
“Yus! Gave bestest babbeh aww miwkies!” She says defiantly.
“Then he’s going to die in the absolute worst, most painful way possible. I plugged him. He can’t poop, and you filled his fat ass with milk.”
Her eyes widen as you drag the can back inside. “N-Nu……not poopie sweepies…… POOPIE SWEEPIES AM WOWSTEST WAY TO GO!!! BABBEH! MUMMAH AM SOWWY!!! MUMMAH WIWW SAVE BABBEH!!! PWEASE MISTAH, TAKE PWUG OUT!!!” she screams horrified.
You slam the lid on the can. “No.”
“Why babbeh have to get wowstest foweva sweepies……am onwy widdwe babbeh…” he asked, looking up at you, crying.
“The wages of sin is death, shitrat.” You say flatly, tying some wire tightly above each ruined hoof. “Can’t have you dying on me JUST yet, however. So these have to go, look at them, I bet there will be maggots in it, soon. Or maybe I should leave them, you can get eaten alive by maggots? Nah, I want you to die of impacted shit.”
You pick up a pair of tin snips. “You know, I legitimately couldn’t tell you when last I used these. Huh.” You shrug, and cut off his ruined hooves. He doesn’t scream, but instead stares blankly. The wire must have cut off circulation, and thus feeling. “Won’t make that mistake twice.” You mutter, holding the same rusted blade you’d used to shave him with your needle-nose pliers, and heating the edge with your lighter.
You press the heated metal to the stump, and the fluffy looks on in horror, letting out whimpers at the smell of his own cooking leg-meat. You repeat the process with the other leg, and untie the wires.
“5….4……3….2…-“
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
“Ah, there we are.”
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEE-“
You slam a hand on the bench. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” you say, voice full of pure hate.
He looks up at you, pitifully. “Bestest Babbeh am sowwy……”
“If you were, you wouldn’t be calling yourself that. You just wan the pain to stop. Well no dice.”
You shove the severed hoofs in front of him. “Eat.”
“Nu wanna num weggies huu huuhuuuu….”
“I said eat, or…” You stop, an idea in your brain.
You open the can and pull you his fat fuck mother by the scruff. “BESTEST BABBEH! MUMMAH WIWW SAVE YOU!!!” She squeals, reaching out at him with her stubby legs.
“You can’t.”
You plop her onto the table, just out of reach of the foal. “Since you won’t eat your own legs, I’m going to hurt you mother. Kill her, actually.” You say, watching her trying to grasp her foal.
“Nu huwt mummah……” he pleads. “Then eat your legs.”
“Nu! Bestest nu num weggies!”
You shrug, and stab the mare in the eye with the stanley knife.
“SCREEEEEEE!!!” she wails, a thick spray of blood running from her blinded eye. You’d chosen the one already damaged by acid, you wanted her to at least be able to see her brat die. You twist the blade, ensuring the globe is utterly destroyed. “HUU HUUU!!! SEE PWACE HUWTIES!” She yells. You set the boxcutter aside, and grabbed the spool of wire, tying off the Mare’s back legs tightly.
“I’m gonna play a game. Make you a bet, really. I’m going to cut off your back legs. Then, I’m going to give your baby very bad pain in his balls. If you can get over to him, and hug his pain away, I’ll take the plug out of him, and take him to a shelter. Wanna play?”
“Huu huu……no wike dis game……but wiww pway!” She says, determined to save her bestest. You pat her on the head. “Glad you feel that way.” You extend the blade on the stanley knife, and bring it down onto her knees, slicing off her legs, and burning the stumps shut. You take the wire off, and listen to the mare’s wails of pain, and assurances her baby would be saved.
You hooked up jumper cables to the car battery, and test them. Perfect. This was going to HURT. You were going to use this little asswipe as a circuit. “Say goodbye to your nuts, shithead.” You say, flipping him on his back.
“No wook at no-nos….” He whined. You clamped the positive onto his left nut.
“SCREEEEEEEE!!! NO HUWTIES IN SPECIAW WUMPS!!!”
“Aaaaand the negative….” You said, snapping it shut on his right.
The foal began to convulse. “MUMMAH……SAVE……BESTEST!!!” He screamed “WOWSTEST HUWTIES……SPECIAW WUMPS BUWNING!!!”
The mare dragged herself forward. Her back legs were gone, her front legs too weak to drag her flabby bulk adequetly, but she was driven by determination. You had considered carpet tacking her front legs, but you wanted her to actually reach her shaved, mutilated little foal this time.
She dragged herself, gritting her teeth, her teats getting splinters, her fat belly rubbing raw. She reached him, at last. Her foal was crying, screaming, the electrical current bringing him incredible pain. She reached up.
“Bestest….huggies….for mummah’s bestest babbeh!” She said, Pulling him into a hug.
“SCREEEEEE!!!”
She let go of him just as fast. A look of horror on her face. “WHY BESTEST GIVE MUMMAH SHOCKY HUWTIES!?” She demanded. You smirked. “Your baby shocked you. He doesn’t love you. And you, mommy was supposed to hug your pain away, but she didn’t, she doesn’t love you anymore.”
“Bad bestest! Dummeh bestest give wowstest shocky huwties! Mummah Hatechu!”
You undid the jumper cables. The foals nuts were badly swollen, and the skin was singed. He curled up “Mummah….hates bestest……peep peep chirp….”
“Well, let’s make sure you don’t go back on that, shall we, mom?” You said, flipping her onto her back and grabbing the carpet tacks. “No more milk, ever.” You say, supergluing the tacks facing outward onto her teats.
“Why munstah put pokey things on miwkie pwaces?”
“So you can’t feed him ever again. And this is so you can’t hug him.” You say, wrapping her in barbed wire.
“SCREEEE!!! HUWTIES! NO WIKE METAW SKETTIES!”
“Yeah yeah…. You say, forcing her mouth open. “Dentistry time.” You reach into her mouth with the pliers.
You don’t pull the teeth. You crush them, breaking them into pieces and then ripping them out. She screams, making muffled pleas for mercy. In a final touch, you heat up your stanley knife again, and cut out her tongue. You wire her muzzle shut. She looks like a lime green parody of a cenobite, stuck with tacks, wrapped in barbed wire, missing an eye, her mouth bloody and bound shut with more barbed wire.
“So now might be a good time to tell you….he didn’t give you shocky hurties. I did that. You’ll never be able to hug or feed or sing to him again. He’s going to die without any more love from you, ever.”
The mare let out a muffled scream, and reached for her peeping, sobbing foal. You put him onto his belly, and took up the carpet tacks again. You nailed his mouth shut, silencing his squeals.
For good measure, you held the ball-peen hammer you’d used, and flipping him onto his back before bringing it down onto his burned testicles. They smashed to mush, and the foal screamed into the tacks. You tossed them both back into the can. She tried to hug him, and only succeeded it hurting him more. He tried to snuggle her teats, and you saw him put out one of his own eyes in the attempt. They settled to opposite walls of the trashcan, crying, mute, bleeding.
You throw in another firecracker for good measure and slam the lid shut.
Tomorrow will be the end of this little punishment.
— — — —
You enter the shed, a few newspapers, an M80, a blowtorch, and some goggles in hand, you can hear the mare whining inside the can, sobbing but unable to speak or scream.
You open it, and the sight is one for the books. The foal had bloated with backed up shit, and she still tried to hug him. He had popped, spraying her in sour milk and liquid feces mixed with gore and blood. “Fuck……Disgusting pig….” you mutter. The stench was foul beyond imagining, and you dragged the can outside. Time to end this.
You glove up, and pry the dead, ruptured foal from her as she struggles. You kick her in the stomach, and toss it aside. you ball up papers and set the foal on them, and then apply the torch.
“MMMMMMMMM!!!” She wails, reaching out for it. You step on her tail, and watch her foal’s carcass burn away. You let her up when the flames die down, and she drags herself to the burned husk. It crumbles to nothing in her hooves.
“MM MM! MM MM! MM MM!”
You can tell what that is. “Wan die.”
“As you wish.” you say dryly. You snap your goggles on, and shove the M80 up her ass. You light tthe fuse and run like hell.
5
She’s still trying to say “wan die.”
4
Trying to “fix” her foal, hugging the smouldering ashes.
3
You reach the porch and crouch behind a chair.
2
The fuse burns her tail hair as it goes in.
1
The fuse stops, and there’s a brief, half second pause.
0
There’s a loud bang and the mare is reduced to shreds of fluff, bone, and meat. It splatters into a roughly 20 foot wide radial blast, painting your fence a rusty red. The barbed wire is the only thing intact. Carpet tacks rain from on high like confetti, and you’re fairly certain a fragment of bone whizzed past your head.
You remove the gloves and goggles, and head to check on your fluffies.
Thistle greets you, in his usual cheerful manner. “Happy Fouth of Juwy, daddeh!”
“Happy 4th little buddy, you looking forward to fireworks tonight? I got plenty of fun ones!”
“Yes! Heawd wound bang, daddeh aweady cewebwatin?”
You smirk.
“You could say that….hehe.”
Happy 4th of July, Fluffy Community!
And yes, I have a hugbox entry for the holiday coming as well, don’t worry, just couldn’t resist the urge to blow up some bad fluffies.