When I found out my new lease allowed Aquafluffs, I had to be cautious not to betray how excited I was. I haven’t had the opportunity in a while, and living alone will provide ample opportunity to indulge my weird need to hurt stuff.
No need to think about that any further.
I’d never owned one before, so I went by the local shelter…then thought better of it, hopped in the car, drove two counties, and went to their shelter instead. I told the cashier I was looking to raise Aquas, and needed one to test out the space. Being the attendant at a fluffy shelter, he didn’t think about how little sense that made.
There were four aquas, look like siblings. One of them, a slightly larger orange one, seems to be the de facto leader of the group. He’s a bit quicker and probably tougher. Might think he’s smarter, too.
I pick him up as well as some basic supplies. I tell the store I’m gonna take him home, get him all set up, and then he’s gonna help me figure out what all I need to get when I come back for the other three. I saw Rescue 9 pull this gag in a comic once and it seemed like fun. I mean, I’m already adopting them. Might as well.
The little guy says his name is Rex, and I call him that until we get to my van. In the back is a small travel tank. The water is too cold and the PH balance is off. It’ll make his eyes sting and his gills will get congested. He’s yammering something incoherent, I’ve been ignoring him the whole time. I open the small carrying case they gave me and pluck the colt out.
He’s about the size of a Chihuahua, with slick fluff to shed water and rough flippers that sort of have the consistency of a gummi. “Nyu daddeh gif upsies? Hooway! Jus memba put Wex back in gud tanksies wen fwoo, su Wex hab gud wawa an bweathies tuu.” I ignore him and drop him in the tank before going up front and driving home.
In the garage, I open the van and remove the tank. It’s opaque and soundproof, so if he’s yelling I won’t know. He could be slamming up against the side of the tank with all his might and I’d never feel a thing.
I set it on the workbench next to the tank I’ll be housing them in. It’s a pretty good size tank, in terms of cubic meters. Problem is that it’s tall instead of wide. Not an issue, since aquafluffs can swim. They may even prefer it. I have a lever actuated claw that moves a vacuum hose around for when I need to retrieve one from the tank. Don’t want to fuck around with a net, I figure the hose will be frightening so they’ll just come when they’re called.
Attached to the main tank is the airlock tank. It’s substantially smaller, suitable for a handful of adult aquafluffies to be placed in so they can seamlessly enter the tank. I open Rex’s canister to move him there.
As the lid comes off, a shrill whine becomes audible. Poor little guy had been screaming for help until it hurt his voice too much. Probably out of breath from how gunked up his gills look. They’re inflamed and swollen and he’s rubbing them in pain. “Huuuu giwwies nu feew pwetty. Nyu daddeh sabe Wex? Meanie wawa gif see pwace owwies!” I grab him by the scalp and he lets out a hoarse yelp. “Yip! Nuuuu owwies! Wai huwties? Wet gu ub pwetty gwass!” I drop him roughly into the airlock tank. His face smacks the edge as he goes in. Nothing serious, but it startles him and gets him upset. "Daddeh! Wai du aww dem huwties? Stappit wite nao! Am gud fwuffy!" He puffs his cheeks, but there’s fear in his eyes.
I smack him across the face as hard as I can. Five teeth come out and the side of his head bounces off the edge of the tank. Impact is near his eye socket, and he’s clearly concussed. Takes a second to move after the hit, he’d clearly passed out. When he comes to, he’s still groggy and confused. His mind is clouded by trauma, both emotional and physical.
The aquafluffs have five fins. Four weggies and a pwetty taiw. I reach into Rex’s tank to grab his tail and it’s as if he’d forgotten I was there. He scrambles to escape but there’s nowhere to go. “Nuuuu! Sowwy! Nu huwties! Nu puww taiw!” I haul him up by his tail and retrieve the small metal spike from my toolchest. It’s about the diameter of a thick paperclip, and a couple inches long. Rex is babbling on about hurties and his tail and how I should stop or whatever. It’s annoying so I dunk his head underwater.
Aquas can breathe underwater, but the sensation of having everything BUT their head above water is said to be extremely unpleasant and disorienting for them. Really upsetting, I’m told. I capitalize on this blessed silence by driving the spike through his tailfin and clamping it with pliers to form a ring. With the ring fully closed, I attached a small steel weight to the ring via a clip, dropped Rex, closed the airlock, and purged it into the main tank.
It’s not designed to do that with a fluffy inside, but I fucked with a lot of the safety equipment so it wouldn’t get in my way. He tumbles haphazardly out into the larger tank, and as he collects himself he sees me. He starts to swim over to yell about something, but something’s wrong. He’s not moving.
He notices the tail.
He panics, scrambling around pawing at it, trying to run away, making a general ass of himself futilely fighting a piece of metal worth more than him. Weight is about seven pounds, so he can drag it across the bottom and even swim it up short distances for brief periods, but in this cavernous tank he’s stuck at the bottom. The footprint is about six square feet and it gets really grimy. He looks at me with these teared up pleading eyes. He’s scared, he wants me to comfort him.
“Your family is going to love it here.”
His eyes don’t change.