The girl in the paper mask stopped him at the door
“I’m sorry, but due to the Covid-19 pandemic we cannot allow more than four patrons at a time in our fluffy shelter. If you’ll kindly wait for one of our patrons to leave, we’ll gladly let you come in.”
Seriously? Having to wait in line just to get inside a goddamn fluffy shelter? This was truly the dumbest conceivable timeline.
Craig waited at the door, tapping his foot. Some little girl was at the counter with her dad, paying for her newest shit-rat.
Since he had nothing better to do, he made up a story about what the two were saying, to pass the time.
“Oh what a lovely little turd factory you picked out!”
“Uh huh, and this one might live a whole week this time because I’m too young to understand responsibility”
“Well that’s okay, I just want something that will keep you busy while I fuck your babysitter’s butthole”
“Thanks for choosing a shelter over FluffMart because we have cheap shit. Come back when this one dies and we’ll sell you another!”
“Oh we certainly will and I’m imagining you naked on all fours, pretty cashier!”
“Thank you so much daddy, I can’t wait to get home and ignore my toy!”
The father and daughter were pushing the door open now. Craig stepped inside and headed straight for the last-chance box.
He’d been here a few times in the past month, and knew that this is where his money would be best spent.
In the sorry-looking box there were the usual suspects. Three brown or dark green foals playing with blocks that were so cheaply made they weren’t even painted, an alicorn that had been beaten half to death by it’s mother, a runt that was rummaging through the litterbox for it’s next meal, a fatass fluff guarding the kibble, only opening it’s eyes when it heard more drop into the pan, and shoving the babies away to keep the food for itself…Yeah, that’s the one.
“How much for the fat boy over there in the corner?”
“Oh, you mean the big gray stallion?”
“Yeah, he looks pretty…” Craig searched for a good word that wouldn’t raise a lot of suspicion
“he looks pretty docile. That’s what I’m looking for. I don’t do a lot, I just want a fluffy that likes to sit with me, and get petted.”
“Oh! Well then you might have hit on just the right fluffy for you! We call him Big Gray, but he’s never really had a name. He doesn’t care to play with the other little fluffs. He just kind of lounges by the kibble dispenser and watches the world around him. He’s pretty intelligent by fluffy standards, and he’s a great conversationalist once you get him talking.”
“Yeah, I think he’s absolutely perfect for me. How much is he?”
“Well Big Gray has been with us for quite a while. I think the asking price for him is currently $2.50”
“Okay, that sounds fair to me.”
Craig payed for the fluffy with a pocket-full of change, and then went around to the side of the pen where the fat fluff was lounging, crouching down to talk to it.
“Hey big guy! You wanna go home with me?”
The fluffy didn’t notice at first, until Craig tapped a finger on his head
“I’m talking to you!”
“Whu?” the overstuffed fluff looked up at the human, confusedly “Yu ams tawkies tu big gway?”
“Yeah! I like you, and I want you to come home with me.”
The fluffy’s eyes got wide and a smile spread across a face that hadn’t smiled in many forevers
“Weawwy!? Gway c’n go homies wif nu daddeh!?”
“Weeeell, don’t go calling me that just yet. But yeah, I have a warm house, with safe walls, and nice toys, and good food.
Would you like that?”
Big Gray shivered all over. Never before had he really been considered someone’s ideal fluffy. He knew he was a boring color, and over the forevers he’d spent here in the shelter, he’d watched dozens of brightly colored fluffs be chosen before him. He’d given up any chance of finding a good home, or a good family that might want him.
The only thing he looked forward to any more was the hourly bell when the kibble bowl was refilled.
He’d forgotten… how to hope.
So now when presented with such an opportunity, he had no idea how to react.
“Oh, oh yessuh! Gway wunna git nu housie an toysies an nummies! Yuh! Pweese! Gway fwuff be sooooo gud to new dadd…uh…tu gud missuh! Pwease!” The fluff reached up with his stubby arms, and Craig reached down to lift him out of the play pen
“Jeez! You’re heavier than I thought!” the fluff must be at least 25 lbs. How the hell could one of this shit-factories get so fat from regular old kibble?! The fluff happily wagged it’s tail as he was lifted off his crusted-over pile of old shit.
“Uuuhhhwwww! Gway no wikie uppies!” the fluffy tried not to panic as he was hoisted out of the pen. His mind raced with all the possibilities of his new home. He’d have a new bed that he didn’t have to share, he wouldn’t have to hear chirpy babies crying for milk all the time, and best of all, BEST OF ALL…he’d have a person of his own to scratch his back, or rub his belly.
It was finally Gray’s lucky day.
The shelter attendant smiled at the pair as they got to know one another
“So would you like to have your fluffy castrated, pillowed, or gift wrapped while you’re here?”
“No, I think I’ll just carry him out as-is, but thank you!” Craig gave the attendant a winning smile. It was the smile that had gotten him out of a hundred sticky situations in the years prior.
As he carried the…generously proportioned fluff out the door, he spoke to it.
“I think I have the perfect name for you, too.”
the fluffy looked up at his new patron as though he was the sky-daddeh himself
“Gway fwuff c’n hab weaw naem!?!”
The previously sad sack of skin began to cry at the thought that he might finally have a real name…and a real home…and real love…
“Yeah. I think I’ll call you, Mule.”
On the ride to his new home the gray fluff tried to wrap his lips around his new name
“Mooo-wuw”
“That’s close. Try stretching out the last part a bit more”
“mooo-wooo”
“That’s a little better.”
“…Gway fwuffy no shuwe him wike dis nu namie, daddeh”
Craig took a deep breath, dramatically pausing to impress the fluffy “…and I’m pretty sure I already told you not to call me that.”
The fat fluff cowered away from the stern sound of his new owner’s words
“Kay… gud missuh. No caw yu daddeh nu moah” he whispered, before going back to practicing how to say his new name, under his breath, pursing his lips comically as he said the syllables. “Myu-wuh…myu-woo…myu-wuw”
Craig stopped his car in front of a house, and Mule immediately got excited, standing up to see out the window.
“Awe we ad nu housie!? Wun go expwowin un see nu housie!!!”
“No, this isn’t our house. This is my friend’s house. You can go up to the door, and he might let you come inside, but you will not stay there long.
“Buh…buh wy nawt?!” the fluff had spent most of his life in a small pen with other fluffs that people considered to be far more attractive than he was. Now that Mule was able to go out and see the world, he wanted to see All of it!
“Mule, you’re going in there to do a job for me.”
“Wuh…wuh ib ‘jawb’?”
Craig unfastened his seatbelt and turned to tower over the fluffy.
“A Job” he says “is what you’re going to do for me, right now.”
“If you don’t do this job, I’m gonna drop you off right here and you can fend for yourself.”
All of his life, Gray…urm…Mule…had wanted a place to belong.
He had yearned for a family.
There was nothing he wanted more than to have a stable…home.
There was no way he could possibly say ‘no’ to gud missah’s demand.
With a few tears welling up in his eyes he nodded
and pawed at his face to hide the shame of crying.
“Alright then.” Craig whispered ominously.
“Hey Mule. When was the last time you pooped?”
“Uwm…weww…uwm…yuh see…”
“Yep, that’s all I needed to hear.”
Craig opened the driver’s door of his Ford Pinto, and calmly walked around to the passenger’s side to pick up the little Mule, and set him down on the sidewalk, before leaning over him
“Go over there in the grass and shit. I want you to squeeze hard and get all of that crap out of you.”
Mule was so incredibly confused…and embarrassed.
“Buh…buh dat am no wittew bawks…”
“I don’t give a fuck. This is a yard, and yards are where you make your poopies from now on. You get me?”
After a couple of seconds Mule sadly nodded and waddled out onto the grass
He hunkered down, looked up at his new ….nice?..missuh, and grunted, trying to squeeze out his poopies.
“Alright, that’s fine. You made good poopies, Mule.”
The little fluff sat down and grinned
“Why would you sit in the shit you just left on the grass?!!”
Jesus fucking christ these things were morons.
Back inside the car Craig spoke… carefully…choosing his words
“Alright Mule. It’s time to earn your keep.” Craig reached under the driver’s seat and pulled out a 2 ounce bag of marijuana.
“You’re going to carry this into the house. And you’re going to carry a lot of money back to me. “
It took a few moments for Mule to process the words, but eventually he nodded in agreement.
“Un den Myu-wuh get sketties, wite!?”
Craig huffed and rolled his eyes
“Yes, goddamit, you’ll get your motherfucking sketties if you do this job right!!”
Tears welled up in the fluff’s eyes. “SOWWY! Sowwy dad…uh…nice missuh. Muu-wuh do anyfing yu sez. Jus…nod no how tu cawwy dem gwassies intu howsie. Mebbe, cawwy dem on hims backie?” the mule suggested.
“No, that’s not how you’re going to do it. We’re going to do this hide-and-seek style. Turn around and hide your eyes. Count to thirty”
Mule had turned and tucked his head between the seat and the door, muttering something about not knowing how big fuwty was. He counted the best he knew to, all the same.
“Fine, stay just like that.”
The fluffy’s tail stated to wag as it began to speak
“Wuuuuun, tuuuuuuuu…tuuuu an wun moooowe…tuu an tuuu moooowe…uh…uh…
Craig kept a tapered chair leg under the driver’s seat for this sort of job. He hadn’t thought to get any lube before heading out, so he looked around the cabin of the car, his eyes falling on a pocket-size bottle of hand sanitizer. He quickly squirted some onto the wooden peg and rubbed it all over the tip
“t-tuuuuu an tuuuu an wuuuun?”
“Ready or not, here it comes.”
Craig grabbed the fluffy’s shit-caked tail placed the cold tip of the chair leg against it’s nasty butthole and shoved it in. It takes a couple of seconds for pain to reach all the way to a fluffy’s brain, so he had a moment to turn the radio on and jack up the volume before it started to scream.
“OOOOHHHHH OWIES WUWSTES OWWWWIEESSS NU WIKE OWIES UN POOPIE PWACIE!!!”
The shrill little voice was drowned out by Maynard Keenan’s vocals
♫Not Enough! I need More! Nothing seems to satis-fy!
I said, I don’t want it!
I just Need it!
To breathe, to feel, to know I’m alive. ♪”
Before the chorus began the entirety of the wooden chair leg was inside the fluff, leaving only a short threaded metal rod outside of it’s body.
Mule convulsed weakly and huu-huuuuuuued at the pain. “No wike buwny sowwy sticky huwties un poopie pwacie” it sobbed. It’s back legs spasmed, trying to shove Mule deeper into the gap between the seat and door.
♫This may hurt a little but it’s something you’ll get used to.♪
Wise words, those. Craig lit a cigarette as he waited for Mule’s sobbing to subside a bit. Waited for the mule’s colon to conform to the new invasion.
♫ Re-lax, turn around and take my hand ♪
For a moment the drug dealer wondered if it could possibly be worse than this to get a job at some mega-mart.
“Alright, Mule. The hardest part is over now. We can take the stick out of you.”
“Yuh! Yuh! Pweeze, pweeeeeze, Moo-wuw do anyfing, jus git sowwy sticky ouuuuuut!”
Craig lubed up the baggie with the alcohol gel, and then leaned over the fluffy, grabbing the threaded rod that was making Mule look like a writhing corn dog.
When he tugged, the fluffy screamed.
♫ But I’LL KEEP DIGGING
Till I FEEL SOMETHING ♪
The bio-toy’s little anus opened like a putrid flower as he drew out the offending rod. Mule shuddered in relief as the awful sorry-stick escaped his body. Craig didn’t give the orifice time to close before shoving the baggie in.
“NU! NU! NU WAN! POOPIE PWACE WUWSTES OWWIES EBAH!”
If the fluffy hadn’t been such a fatass it would be bouncing around the cabin like a frightened cat.
Craig had to hold it down with one hand as he shoved the last inch of the bag into the fluffy’s asshole.
As he seated the bag deep inside the fluff and withdrew his finger, the little sphincter puckered pathetically.
Craig would be really fucking glad when this pandemic was over and he could go back to doing business face to face, rather than using these awful little shit-factories to carry his product.
“Alright Mule, you’re going to go up to the door, and beat on the door with your hoof until Syd lets you in.”
Mule looked up at meanie-mister with tear-shrouded eyes. It’s lower lip trembled as it tried to pay attention to the words being spoken, rather than the incredibly large package inside it’s poopie-place.
“You give Syd the goods, and then he sends you out with the money.”
The fluffy sniffled dejectedly
“Moo-wuw nu wike dis gamie nu mo. Nu wan pway…”
“Well that’s too fucking bad! If you want your sketties you’re going to do exactly what I say!”
“Huuuu-huuuuuuuuu!!!” Mule trembled, and finally gave a shuddering nod before Craig leaned across to open the passenger’s door and shove it out roughly onto the sidewalk.
Mule curled up and tried to right himself, struggling to it’s feet. It’s back legs were splayed wide as Mule tried to waddle as comfortably as possible up to the house. After a forever, it reached the cold stone steppies, where it huffed, exhausted by it’s trek. (~40’/12m distant)
Mule could barely see over the top of the first step. How could meanie-mister expect him to climb to the door?! He knew that if he didn’t climb, meanie-mister might have worse things in mind for Mule.
Like taking away his leggies, or whipping him with the sorry stick…or…no…his mind didn’t want to even conceive of the last possibility…meanie-mister…might take away his sketties!
With that thought coaxing him forward, and upward, Mule reared up and pomfed his little hoovies on top of the step. He hopped a few times to try and make his way up the sheer cliff, wailing in pain as his belly crossed the jagged threshold of the step.
I really should not have chosen such a fat-ass fluff for this job…
When Mule mounted the second step he heard the door at the top of the mountain open, and a grizzled man with cold eyes stared down at him. He looked up at the great and powerful being above, and pleaded for respite.
“Oh pwease, pwease gib Moo-wuw uppies, Moo-wuw huwt so bad. So tiwed. Pwease?!”
Craig waved jauntily from the car.
The man at the door flipped him the bird, and slammed the door shut, shattering any hope Mule had for relief.
Mule layed his nose against the concrete wall and whimpered.
He didn’t have the strength to finish.
He couldn’t go on.
His legs hurt, his poopie place hurt, and worstest of all, his heart hurt.
He wished he was back at the shelter.
But a glance back at the car let Mule know that meanie-mister was watching him. He cowered and huuued before standing up to reach the top step, hopping to get a leg up on the plateau.
As Mule started to breech the step, he could feel the package inside his tummy start to push out, the worstest poopies ever.
“Nu! Nu poopie pwace! Godda keep poopies in! Pwomise meanie mistuh no go poopies untiw in big housie!”
The fluffy clenched his thighs together, forcing the package back inside. The feeling was terrible. But he knew it would be far worse if he disobeyed meanie-mister.
After a lot of grunting, and even more tears, Mule rolled on top of the highest step, and layed there for a long moment, catching his breath.
The door opened once more, and the old man with angry eyes glowered down on Mule.
The fluff reminded his poopie place that it wasn’t time for poopies yet, before rolling onto his feet, and painfully waddling to the door, and hopping over the threshold.
Syd rubbed his eyes and let the shit-rat through the door. He was sick and motherfucking tired of this whole “shelter in place” bullshit. If he had to risk dying of the flu to get his pot, it was a damn sight better than having to use these godawful shitstains as go-betweens.
Once Mule was inside the doorway, Syd closed the door again.
“Syd supposes you have somethin’ for ‘im.”
Mule’s legs shook so quickly that his world seemed to be shaking, though it was just his own eyes
“y…yuh. Muu-wuw need maek poopies wite nao pweese, nice missuh”
“Well then Syd says do it and get it over wit’.”
This mister sure did talk weird.
“m-Missuh…Syd? W-wewe am wittuhbawks?”
“Did Syd say to go find a litter-box ta shit in? Syd didn’t! Syd said shit righ’ 'ere!”
Mule looked around. Maybe there was a nice corner he could tuck into to make poopies
There was a sudden SHAINK sound as Syd twisted his wrist, and a mean-looking sorry-stick sprang from his hand.
“Syd says do it NAOW!”
Mule’s eyes got wide and he squeezed his little belly. At least scary poopies might make him feel a little better right now.
ggggnnnnnccccckkkk!!! The fluffy strained with all the strength he had left, but the mean old bag of grassies wouldn’t come out.
Syd wasn’t the biggest human Mule had ever seen. But Syd might have been the fastest.
In the blink of an eye there was a hand shoving Mule’s face to the floor, and another digging around inside his poopie-place to pull out the plum.
When the baggie was ripped out of him, Mule couldn’t decide to laugh or cry.
So he did both, at the same time.
Syd checked the contents.
“Swear ta got if there’s one speck of shet in Syd’s sack, Syd’s gonta stomp all ovah Mistah Craig.”
Mule was still haffing to try and catch his breath with a new intrusion was shoved into his poopie place. But after everything else that had been in there, this little bundle was blissfully small, to Mule.
“Syd says ta tell Mister Craig ta send it in a dog, nex’ time. Syd’s tired ah dealin wif flohffies.”
the old man opened the screen door and dropkicked Mule most of the way back to the car, where it landed on it’s face, and rolled twice.
Craig opened the creaking car door, and strode out into the yard to pick up the dead fluff.
There was a wad of dollars sticking out of what Craig presumed was once the mule’s butthole.
It’s hard to tell since it’s now sitting on a shoulder.
“Good job Mule. You were worth every penny.”
