Pastor Graham Mitchell watched as the last of his church drove off. He took off his jacket and began to count the tithes that the flock had left. The little box opened and he quickly counted the few hundred dollars. He ran a simple Baptist church on the northside of Chicago.
He placed the money into the petty cash safe. It would get used on the flock whenever times got hard.
“Hewp!”
Graham’s attention snapped to the back door. He stepped outside to the windy fall air. He stepped outside to see a fluffy, the pink thing pointed a hoof to the fence line.
“Nice Mistah. Big fwuffy need hewp. Fowwow fwuffy!”
Some would call fluffies an insult to the Lord. The Amish certainly didn’t care for them, Catholic considered them a punishment for man’s hubris. The Baptist didn’t have strong unified opinions on them. Graham followed the worried stallion to the fence line and noticed a massive yellow unicorn fluffy. The male raised his head to gaze at him.
The creature’s left eye socket had been burned to a pink mass. A half dozen darts had been lodged in its body. The worst part seems to be the two nails driven through each of the male’s testicles and into a heavy 4x4 block. The creature was stuck into a sitting position as blood ran down its crotch.
“That’s morbid.”
The stallion locked eyes with Graham. The creature shuddered in pain and opened its mouth as if trying to say something.
“Dummeh Big Fwuffy nu get hewp!” The fluffy screamed. “Bad Mistah and Mummah du dis!”
“Why?”
The fluffy shook his head. “Dun kno. Nu wike big fwuffy in fwuffy wan’. Get boo-boo Wawa on nummie gwasses.”
“N-nyuuuu Daddeh?” The XXL strained out the words.
“I’m no biotoy expert but I can at least get you patched up.” He said.
He picked up the XXL, he felt his back pop lifting the seventy pound biotoy. The creature didn’t scream but whimpered even as he brought it into the storage room of the church. He placed down a tarp and put the creature down. The burn wasn’t a major issue but the nails in the testicles could be fatal if he wasn’t careful.
“I have no idea if I can even give you a first aid injection.” He said.
“D-dun…” there was a muffled cry as the stallion but back a scream. “Kno’.”
“This is gonna hurt regardless.” He grabbed a rolled up table cloth and shoved it in the fuckffie’s mouth. “Bite down.”
A claw hammer was placed just under the head of the nail. He placed the first aid syringe in his mouth. He took a deep breath and yanked the first nail out. The fuckffie screamed through the cloth and arched his back. The second nail came out with renewed screams. The board came free with a wet squelch of sticky blood.
Graham slammed the needle deep into the ruined testicles. He pressed the plunger and waited. The flesh shuddered in a way that made him sick. The fuckffie shuddered and thrashed. The chemical cocktail is painful even for humans but it stimulates cell repair and clotting. It also makes the body sensitive and hyper aware.
“Alright big guy. If you can handle what happened to you, this shouldn’t be too much worse.” Graham waited as the poor thing thrashed in pain. He took a step back as it pissed and shitted itself pain.
The ruined mass of meat that passed for testicles would probably never look the same without full regrowth treatments. He doubted the giant fluffies owners would spend the forty or so dollars to fix him. He waited till the fluffy stopped thrashing and simply paused to catch his breath.
“I’m sure you aren’t feeling the best. Since you didn’t have a heart attack I’m going to say you are stable.” The Pastor sighed.
The tarp was ruined, between the shit, piss, and blood, the hooves had torn holes into it from the trashing. The smell was like a butcher shop. He noticed that the creature finally spat out the table cloth.
“Nyu Daddeh?”
“No. I just don’t care to refuse anyone needing help.” He sighed. “Do you have a name?”
“Shitpiwe.”
“No.” Graham waved his hand. “That’s an insult. I’m not calling you that.”
“‘kay. Can hab nyu name?” Shitpile looked hopeful.
“Sure. Bartholomew. For now you’ll need some food and water. What I injected you with is going to keep fixing you for the next few hours.”
The unicorn looked up at him, there was a smile and a sense of relief that washed over him. “Baw-thow-omew am su happeh.”
“I have no idea what fluffies eat. What can you eat?”
“Aww Nummies dat hoomin-stawwion eat am gud.” Bart said.
Graham went back into the church and grabbed a sandwich from the mini fridge in his office. He brought the simple ham and cheese sandwich to the stallion. There was no fear as the stallion quickly devoured the sandwich. Bartholomew tongue ran over the man’s fingers a little longer than was needed.
“You’ll probably need more food. I’ll order us something.” Graham said while breaking out his personal bible.
“Mind if I practice my sermon?”
“Wat am dat?”
“I preach the words of God and the teachings of Christianity to other people.”
“Okay.”
Graham ordered them some food, he even ordered a cookie for the fluffy that originally called out to him.
“Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up;-” Graham began, “The Lord wants us to be kind and compassionate without becoming arrogant and boasting of our works.”
“When Jesus walked the earth he spoke of his father greatly. Others spoke of his deeds, others were inspired to make accounts of his actions.” Graham waved a hand to an invisible crowd.
“Luke 6:35 states: But love ye your enemies, and do good, and lend, hoping for nothing again; and your reward shall be great, and ye shall be the children of the Highest: for he is kind unto the unthankful and to the evil.” He stepped closer to Bart as he got into his rhythm.
“While the Bible speaks of rewards there are multiple scriptures that state to not do these things just for personal gain. The Lord does provide for his flock but these are hard times for all. When we leave this church we are representing our relationship with God. Just as children represent the lessons of their parents, we show the world what God means to us.” Graham smiled at the line.
“What do you think?” Graham asked, “I have a lot more to add but my sermon is going to be on kindness and brotherhood.”
“Mistah sound gweat! So gud!” Bart then paused. “Am God, Sky Daddeh?”
“I’m a manner of speaking. I’ve heard a few of your kind call this place Sky Daddy’s house. I believe they have heard my sermons.”
“Can Bawthowomew meet Sky Daddeh?”
“We will all go before him after we pass on. For now he speaks through us in infinitely different ways. He knows who we are, our every thought and action is measured yet he still loves us. After all, he made humanity in his own image.”
“Dat am nice. Bawthowomew am-” His singular eye pointed to the floor. “Sowwie.”
A chime caught the pastor’s attention, he walked to the front of the church. The door opened and a fat woman with a large nose ring looked up at him. She had a fluffy riding on her shoulder with its own silver nose ring.
“Hey Pastor! You do know that you are allowed to leave church after it’s over right?” She teased.
“I know but it is easier to practice in the building.” He smiled.
She paused and looked at the blood on his hands and shirt. “What happened?”
“I found a fluffy that was being tormented and I fixed him. I’ve never seen one so big Carla.” He said, “I’m letting him rest in the storage room.”
“Can I see him?”
The fluffy on her shoulder fluttered it’s ears in excitement. The pastor nodded and brought them to the storage room. The fuckffie was curled into a ball, his head rose to look at the group.
“H-hewwo?” He said.
“Um father.” Carla swallowed looking at the fuckffie. “How much do you know about fluffies?”
“Not much. I do have to occasionally shoo them away from the flowers but I’ve never taken care of one.”
“That’s not a fluffy.” She said.
“Oh. He did seem kinda big.”
“Bawthowomew am enfie-fwiend.”
Carla couldn’t help but smile, “You are so lucky I found you before you showed anyone else. That is a sex toy.”
“It’s a horse biotoy.” The pastor shook his head. “Doesn’t seem any different than Lilac on your shoulder.”
“Enfie is fluffy word for fu- sex. He just called himself an Enfie-fwiend.”
“That’s utterly vulgar. What would anyone want with such a thing?!”
Carla laughed, “Sin is in. Sex toys are old fashioned, Biotoys can moan, can tell you that they love you, can-”
The horrified face on the Pastor made her stop. “What?”
“What do I do with him? I don’t want anyone to hurt him and he doesn’t seem bad.” The pastor said.
“Just keep him. I doubt anyone but you named him Bartholomew. Naming a fluffy or a fuc- or one of his kind is almost like imprinting on them.” She said.
“He is a sex toy.”
“And?”
“Bawthowomew wan nice Daddeh. Mistah am nice! Teww Bawthowomew ‘bout God.”
Carla smirked, “Oh. He didn’t say sky daddy. Seems he was listening to you talk his ear off.”
“I did practice my sermon a bit.”
“Maybe I’ll teach him a little Wicca?”
“Don’t make me call the witch hunters.” He joked. “So what do I do with him?”
“One of these sandwiches is for him right?” She asked, one he nodded she squatted near the fuckffie.
“This is Pastor Graham. He is a good guy but if you stick with him. He is never gonna do any enfie with you. He is going to tell you all about his religion but he doesn’t have the heart to hurt a fluffy or a fuc- enfie-friend.”
“Bawthowomew nu hab nu-nu wumps put back on dat?” He pointed a hoof to the blood stained block of wood.
“No, he won’t hurt you. He is a big softy. Just a prudish one.”
“Wat dat mean?”
She gave a mischievous smile, “He hates sex.”
Graham watched as Bart’s gaze locked on him. The look of pity that flashed across his features was almost insulting. He pushed down the urge to reprimand the creature for even having the thought of something so disgusting.
“Take himb wumps?” Lilac offered.
“Pwease nu huwt.” He shuddered but didn’t move away.
Carla gave Lilac a poke on the nose, “He isn’t a bad guy.”
She tore a piece of the sandwich and offered it to the fuckffie. Bartholomew carefully plucked it out of her hand and chewed. He mumbled a thanks through a mouthful of food.
“Should I be worried about helping him recover?”
Carla shook her head. “It’s a common thing for an abuser to get a really docile one to torment.”
“Docile is fine but I can’t keep a sex toy in the house of God.”
She smirked, “He is a sinner filled with lustful thoughts.”
“Bawthowomew wan stay with nice Mistah.” He offered.
“I-”
Carla rolled her eyes and took a spare bible from a shelf. She dropped it in front of the stallion. She opened it to the first book of the Bible. She looked him in the eyes.
“Read it.”
“In da beginning God cweated the heaven and da eawf. And the eawth was witout fowm, and void; and dawkness was upon da face of da deep. And the Spiwit of God moved upon the face of da watews.” Bartholomew struggled but managed to read the passage.
“You see, this book is very important to the Pastor. He talks about it, he follows all the rules in it. He is scared of you because sex is a big no-no.”
“I am not sexually interested in the fluffy designed for sin.” He said icily. “I just didn’t want him to die.”
“He also really likes to practice his sermons. He needs a friend he can talk about God with. Wanna be his friend?”
Bart’s single good eye blinked as tears rolled down it. “Bawthowomew neba hab fwiend.”
Carla cellphone beeped, “Well I gotta make another delivery. If you don’t keep him I’ll take him and sacrifice him to Pan or whatever it is you think I do.”
She adjusted Lilac on her shoulder and walked out the front door. He didn’t even follow her out, She was always rebellious but with a good heart. He made a silent prayer that the Lord would bring her back to the congregation.
Bartholomew ate his sandwich ravenously. Even in a room with blood, shit, and urine the chimeric biotoy managed to appear serene. Once he was finished he leaned over the spare bible and began to read.
“Are you interested?”
“Dis book am Mistah’s favowite. Wan kno’ mo’.”
“You don’t have to do that. If the book-”
“Neba hab fwiend befowe. Wan tu be gud Fwiend. Even if nu Fwiend hate enfie.” That look of pity flashed across his face again.
“Just reading the Bible straight will muddy the lessons. Allow me to tell you about Balaam and his talking donkey.” The pastor said, “Then we will see about getting you to a proper vet. That injection works for damage but I don’t know what else you may need.”
“Den dat mean dat nice Mistah wan Bawthowomew?” He said with a slight tapping of his hooves.
“I expect you to be in your best behavior. I do not want a sex toy, I find the very concept sickening. I wouldn’t mind a friend I can teach the scriptures to.”
The dominating presence of the pastor awoke something in Bartholomew. That baritone voice, those callous hands, he was kind yet strong. He trusted this man would never hurt him. He clenched his teeth, the perfect human to rock his world appeared and he hates sex.
“Bawthowomew wiww du dis. Wub nice Mistah.”
“Good.”
