The Itch had come back. The Itch that all of his “type” of people had. Like tides on a beach it always returned.
The Itch to abuse Fluffies.
Brandon had always hated those shitrats. The way they shit on everything, the way they demanded things, their ceaseless stupidity, and their attitudes. He had tortured fluffies ever since he had been a young teenager. Their “screes” and “huuhuus” were music to his ears. Nothing brought him more joy than to take a fluffy and make it sing a sadistic symphony of pain. Occasionally he would take a feral or a low priced store fluffy and make it “sing” for him.
His favorite way was the “Munstah Daddeh Game”
The Munstah Daddeh Game involves making a fluffy choose what torment it gets. Nothing is more thrilling than seeing it rack its brain to decide its pain. Nothing is off the table to have them decide. In the end, how they end up is truly up to them. Some leave mangled, some perfectly fine physically, and some die.
Bradon had been watching tv, when a fluffy store ad had come on, thats when the Itch came. It had been about 3 months since he had abused one. The message board he was on was an excellent source of new ways to get them to sing. He read post after post of them being hurt. His favorite was Bread_ Soldier’s ever changing way to abuse them.
He knew exactly what to do to get some free fluffs. He walked to his backyard garden and went up to the fence. A classic 7 foot tall wooden privacy fence. He had made a special plank on the far left side of the fence that could be moved over slightly, making a hole big enough for fluffies. It faced the large forest directly next to his property. He had planted a verity of berry bushes in his garden, explicitly to attract fluffies. He moved the plank and dropped a couple of blueberries in front of it. No fluffy could resist the berries, and would get curious. The berry bushes would convince them to go in to the garden further. Hopefully he would get a large herd to decimate. After that he walked inside and lived the rest of the day normally.
After he got back from work, he got changed and looked into his back yard. At first he saw nothing, just his garden and shed. Then out from under his blackberry bush he saw it.
A light purple shape.
Jackpot.
He was elated to know it hadn’t taken so long to get some. He continued to watch, needing all the info he could get before striking. He was rewarded quickly as a brown fluffy with a light green mane had walked towards the purple one. A poopie, and a purple. Not very common to see those colors together. The brown one said something to the purple one and walked to the shed. Getting a better look at the brown one, Brandon could tell it was a stallion.
“Could the purple one be a mare?” Bran said quietly to himself.
As soon as he said that it moved. It was kinda skinny. As it got out into the open, Brandons jaw dropped.
An Alicorn fluffy. A rare purple one, at that.
That made him giddy, almost like a school girl that had been given a kitten. Of all the fluffies alive, alicorns were the one he hated the most. Those little shits got better treatment than some humans. They were always the most popular fluffy for anyone. They went for a crazy amount of money simply due to the fact that mare tended to kill them at birth, calling them “munstah babbehs”.
He looked with excitement as they walked to the shed. Then 4 more small multicolored shapes walked behind the mare. Foals. Even better. He had gotten the abuse lottery. The situation was now understood. The rejected alicorn had gotten with the rejected poopie and had foals. A sweet story, if not for them being fluffies. He was gonna make the whole family sing for him. A beautiful choir of pain. He would wait for nightfall to move the plank. He didnt want them to know he was there yet.
Finally night had fallen. He opened the door carefully, not to make a loud sound. He walked a quietly as he could to the fence and moved the plank back. They wouldn’t be going anywhere now. He had the next 2 days off, and he was gonna use it to his full advantage. After going back inside and taking a shower. He went to bed, dreaming of all the torment he would inflict on them.
The next day, Bradon awoke full of energy. He happily made some breakfast, some hashbrowns and eggs, and a cup of coffee. He ate while watching the news. Some prolific nightclub downtown had shutdown due to a fluffy herd infesting it. A local exterminator was gonna be called to solve it. Brandon was jealous, sounded like a fun job. He finished and got dressed for some fun of his own. He walked to the back door and looked through its window.
The brown stallion was walking around the fence, possibly looking for an exit. One he was never going to found. Brandon walked outside and closed the door behind him. He snuck up behind the fluffy and said loudly “What are you doing here?”
The fluffy jump with a “eep!” It turned to Brandon and said “S…Sowwy mistew, Bouwbon an speciaw fweind had biggest tummeh owwies. An saw nummies in hewe, so Bouwbon lead famiwy hewe.” The brown fluffy, whos name was apparently Bourbon, explained.
“Well, im not too mad,” said Brandon in a fake understanding tone “but if you want to stay, you will have to play a game with me”
“Bouwbon wub games!” Bourbon said happily “what am it? Huggie tag?” He questioned
“I cant tell you, its a surprise” Brandon answered “you have to come inside with me to play it.” He had used this pitch on fluffies so much he practically had a foolproof way of getting them to cooperate.
“O…Otay, Bouwbon come with nice mistew” Bourbon said. He followed Brandon inside, and Brandon closed the door behind them.
“I need to give you uppies to the game area ok” Brandon said bending down to scoop up the fluffy. Bourbon gave the uppies arms in response. Stupid bastards, always so gullible. He carried Bourbon to the garage, where he had his “game room” set up.
Apon entering, Bourbon thought something was wrong. He could swear he smelt booboo juice. But he didnt see any. He must just be nervous to play a new game! Thats all.
The room was dark, a single light hung from the ceiling. A large, chest height steel table was dead in the middle. Cabinets and storage containers cluttered the room. A drain was at rhe bottom of the floor, smelling faintly of blood. A ton of garden equipment and tools littered the wall hangers. It was neat, somewhat like a hospital operation room.
Brandon placed Bourbon on the table. “Cowdies” Bourbon protested. He walked over to a camera on a tripod near the table and hit the record button, he was gonna get a lot of likes tonight.
“This,” Brandon paused for effect “is the game room” he put on a pair of rubber gloves. This might get messy.
“Nice mistew, what am dis game?” Bourbon said nervously
“Im so glad you asked” Brandon said while he slammed his hands on the table, scaring Bourbon. “THIS, IS THE MUNSTAH DADDEH GAME!” His face had contorted to a sickening mile wide smile.
“Scawy!” Exclaimed Bourbon. He made scaredy poopies as he shrunk down into the table.
“Oh look, you got the table messy.” Said Brandon in a playful tone “now i have to clean it.” He grabed a water hose out from under the table and after reveling a drain, lazily sprayed the table.
“Wawa am bad for Fwuffy!” Bourbon said instinctively as he ran to the other end of the table, it was too high to jump off of without getting injured.
“Now that thats done” Brandon said while putting the hose back “ill tell you the rules of the munstah daddeh game”
“Bouwbon nu wike dis…” the fluffy’s voice trailed off.
“Im am your munstah daddeh, and you have to listento me” Brandon explained “you are gonna get 2 choices, and you will pock one. That choice will happen and we will go to the next one. Simple right?”
Bourbon looked at him, unsure of his intent. “Otay, dat easy” he said confidentiality.
A R E Y O U S O S U R E ?
Those words rang through Bourbon’s head, like a church bell to a funeral.
“Alright all you have to do is choose 5 times. And if you do all of them you win!” Brandon said happily. He grabbed a shaving razor behind him and looked at the fluffy on his table.
“Ok, your first choice is which do you want to keep. Your tail fluff or your mane?” Brandon smiled that sickening smile again.
Bourbon froze, his…fluff. the mister wanted to take his fluff.
“Bouwbon wan’ to keep pwetty fwuff” he said hesitantly.
“Thats not one of the choices” Brandon said flatly. “Make your choice.” He stared down at the fluffy. Those eyes pierced Bourbon with pure malice.
Bourbon understood now, this man was gonna hurt him. If he didnt choose, he might give him forever sleepies. He shook in terror, there was no escape. The meanie table was to tall, he would definitely be hurt if he jumped. He was trapped, like a foal in a drain.
“Wai take Bouwbon’s fwuff?” Bourbon asked politely
Brandon slammed the table with his hands again. Harder this time. “MAKE A FUCKING CHOICE!” He shouted. He looked very angry now. This terrified Bourbon, who wished he never had followed the man into his home. Bourbon began to cry, he was so scared. But he had to make a choice, he HAD to.
“Keep pwetty mane…” Bourbon said quietly
“Finally,” Brandon said with a weighted sigh.
He spun Bourbon around 180. He was fast, a lot fast than most. With skill that would put a 5 star chef to shame, he cut off bourbons tail.
“SCREEEE!” Bourbon screamed as sharp pain crackled through him. He pooped and pissed himself as jumped forward, forcefully stopping himself from falling off. Pain shot up from his butt to his spine. A costant throb radiated from his now gone tail. He was now crying fully.
“Huuhuuu, wai give Bouwbon huwties? Am good fwuffie!” Bourbon exclaimed with a pained voice.
Brandon had gone silent, to enjoy the wonderful “music” the injured fluffy made. “Looks like i need to clean again” he said while dismissing Bourbons question. He grabbed the hose and sprayed down the waste. He had tossed the now detached tail in a bio-waste bin next to table.
He looked down at Bourbon, who had positioned himself as far from him as possible.
“1 down, 4 to go! Are you ready for your next choice?” Brandon said like a gameshow host. This was all a game to him. A sick, and twisted one.
“Huuhuu, nu wan to pway dis game anymowe” Bourbon shouted through tears. He began to cry harder.
“No,no,no.” Brandon said as if he were talking to a child “once the game starts, you cant stop until its over” he shrugged as if to say, thems the rules man. Bourbon broke into further tears.
“I guess that means you’re ready!” Brandon said as he grabbed his next tools of torment. He grabbed a large stick, just an old broken brokm handle, and a fluffy leg, taxidermied to a small stick. He held them up for Bourbon to see.
“Which do you want? The extra sorry-stick or the extra sorry-hoofies?” He said shaking the one when he announced its name to signal to Bourbon which was which.
“Huuhuu, nu wan eithew” Bourbon said while shaking his head
“Again,” Brandon said disappointed “thats not one of the choices” He looked at the camera almost in a mock Office way. “So make your choice, now!”
Bourbon shrank down into the table. He didnt want anymore hurties. He didnt want to play this game anymore. He was scared and wanted his special friend. She was much better at handling tough decisions, she was really smart. She would know what to do. Those thoughts made him realize.
If he doesn’t win, this munstah daddeh will go after them
He couldnt have that, he would never let them get hurties if he could stop it. So he looked up at the man. “S…Sowwy-hoofies…” he said sadly.
“Ah, so he chooses” Brandon said while putting the sorry-stick down. “Alright, get ready.”
He pointed the sorry hoof at Bourbon and with spear-like efficiency stabbed at him
Thump, Thump, Thump
3 quick stabs; one directly on Bourbon’s nose, making it bleed immediately. One at his front left leg, making him fall flat on his previously hit nose. The last at his side, knocking the wind out of him and launching him a back a little. So fast the pain registered almost all at once.
“SCREEEE! Huuuhuuu. So much huwties!” Bourbon screeched out. His nose now ground zero for pain. His leg felt weak now and didnt want to support him .Finally, his side hurt a little every time he breathed so he had to resort to short shallow breaths.
“Haf, Haf, Haf” Bourbon’s pained breaths were now audible. Pain vined its way through Bourbon’s body. All throbbed at once, causeing him to wince in pain. He felt sick in his stomach, sicky wawa’s was building up in his throat. He began to cry again, his face fluff caked with salty tears.
Brandon was absolutely enthralled with pain Bourbon was in. Like a composer admiring his work in an orchestra, he simply took in every single moment. He put down the sorry hoof absent-mindedly.
“Bravo, Bravo!” Brandon exclaimed " 2 down, 3 to go. Are you ready, Bourbon?
Those words brought terror to Bourbon. Like a bump in the night, it showered his whole body in a cold layer of fear. He would rather have gone hungry than ever go near the garden if he knew this would come of it. Words stuck themselves to Bourbons throat. The fear pinning them to his windpipe.
Brandon looked at the petrified fluffy. God, it was like a beautiful art piece. Bourbon was his mona lisa, and him its DaVinci. Brandon soaked all of his fear and smiled. His devilish mind spinning.
“Ill take that as a yes” Brandon said spinning around to look at his tools. Oh, he had so many. Each one had torment countless fluffies. He was proud of each one, but he did have those he preferred. He grabbed 2 of his favorites and turned to face the fluffy. In one hand he had a pair of pliers, caked with dried blood and enamel. In the other, a hand saw similarly caked in dried blood but with bone chips in it.
“Ok, which do you want to keep,” Brandon said while brandishing a wicked smile “all your teeth or your weggies!”
Bourbon’s blood froze. His…his weggies, his teeth. He was gonna take one. The prospect made him sink deeper into the abyss of fear. “NUUUU, NUU TAKE WEGGIES OR TEETHIES!” Bourbon shouted as loud as he could “NEED WEGGIES FO WUN AN PWAY AN HUGGIES, NEED TEETHIES FO NUMMIES!” He was going into hysterics now. He couldnt believe the man would make him choose. He couldnt. It was too mean.
Brandon sighed. “How many times do i have to tell you” he said with a voice full of malic “You. Need. To. Choose.” He glared at the currently breaking down fluffy.
Bourbon couldn’t process this. Why. Why was the man being so mean. What had he done.
“Wai am do dis, wha am Bouwbon du to mistew?” Bourbon asked. He need to know.
“Why? You ask why, well.” Brandon thought of a good answer “Because, you exist. And i like hurting fluffies.” Brandon snickered to himself.
Bourbon was stunned. Just beacause he existed. No other reason. The crime to this man was simply being alive. It hurt to hear that. Not as much as his nose or tail, but still.
“Now make your choice.” Brandon said holding out his tools.
Bourbon couldnt think, he simply let the first words slip out.
“Keep…teethies…”
“Geeez, took you long enough. Shitrat” Brandon spat as he put the pliers down. With lightning fast hands he grabbed Bourbon and flipped him on his back. He pinned the fluffy down with his left arm and held up one leg with his hand. He took the saw and began to slowly carve away at the leg.
Back and forth. Each time going deeper.
Bourbon screamed “SCREEEE, SCREEEE. NUUUUU, NUUU TAKE WEGGIES SCREEE!”
The Pain. Unbearable. Each pull was a shockwave of agony, it rippled through him and pinged off his other injuries. It cause him to tense up, only amplify the pain. His eyes bulged and his mouth screamed beyond his control.
“SCREEEEEEEEEE, SCREEEEEEEE!”
He tried to wiggle away from the man, to no avail. It only made him hurt more. The man had taken one leg. Bourbon panted in agony.
Brandon was ABSOLUTELY loving this. Each scream was a note of pure heaven to him. Like the angels had sung to him themselves. He needed more.
He started on the next leg, with the same sawing motion. More screams as the fluffy wiggled and contorted its body to get away. The poor things heart might give out at this point. He couldn’t have that. So he worked faster.
After all 4 legs were separated, Bourbon didnt talk. So much pain coursed through him.
Everything hurt. Every breath hurt. Moving hurt. Looking hurt. Existing hurt.
He threw up. Vomit covered in front of him. This only lead to more pain filtering into him. He couldnt even cry, cause it hurt to much. His throat was sore from screaming. He was titering on the edge. Surely, death might be better than this. Before he could give that more thought, the man spoke.
“Wow, just wow” Brandon said in mocked awe “you are just wonderful. Well thats 3 out of 5. Only 2 more to go. Then you win!”
There was no winning. Bourbon knew this now. Any prize to be earned was useless. But he couldnt leave now. Even if he wanted to.
“Alright, ill get your next choices” Brandon said while rummaging through his toolbox.
Not even the chance to get prepared. He was getting impatient.
He turned to face Bourbon. In his hand a simple knife. That made Bourbon scared. It was too simple.
“So which do you want to keep?” Brandon he said softly " one of your eyes or your tongue?"
Impossible. Simply impossible. No person could be this mean, this cruel. Bourbon wasnt so sure now.
“Make a choice, Bourbon” he said inspecting the knife. “If you choose your eye, ill let you choose what one i take.”
Bourbon was almost frozen, but he had to choose. It was the rule.
“Take…take left seeie pwace” he said with defeat. The only way to stop the pain was to choose fast.
Brandon smiled, he had chosen the fun option. Brandon put the knife away and grabbed Bourbon. He held him down with his left hand.
“Wewe am sharp stick?” Bourbon said slowly panicking
“Oh, im not going to use that” Brandon said with a smirk
Brandon plunged his fingers around Bourbon’s left eye.
Bourbon didn’t think he could scream anymore. He was wrong. Very wrong.
“SSSSSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
Pain speared through Bourbon’s eyesocket. All thoughts left him, it was all replaced by pain. His heart began to hurt. His screaming ripping through his throat as if the air in his lungs wanted to get away from the pain.
Blackness over came him.
Brandon had ripped the eye out when he noticed Bourbon go slack.
“Oh no, we cant have that!” He said while taking out a tazer from his pocket. He kept it there just in case they tried to leave him before he was done. “YOU DONT GET TO LEAVE YET!” He took the tazer and placed it against Bourbon’s chest and pressed the trigger. Electricity rooted through the fluffy. Jump starting his heart. He took the tazer off him and compressed Bourbon’s chest to force a breath.
Bourbon came back into the world coughing and gasping for air. The second thing he noticed was that everything was pain. So, he simply plopped down. Only breathing. His scream could no longer form. He wished he could have died.
“Well that was close” Brandon said while wiping his brow “but hey, you’re on the last choice!”
Bourbon felt nothing, nothing but pain. He stopped responding, there was no use in it.
“This is the biggest choice ever ok, so listen closely.” Brandon beamed with delight
“Your first choice is that i take your special lumps. Your second is i play this game with your babbehs and special friend!”
Bourbon…just couldnt. This man. No. This monster was so cruel so mean.
“But if you make the first choice, i take you back to your family. But you will be a legless, lumpless, half-blind daddeh.” Brandon said with a wide smile “if you make the second choice, I’ll make sure you never have hurties again. You will be my personal fluffy. And if you’re good I’ll even get you a special friend!”
This monster was the worse of them all. He knew exactly what choices hurt him the most. He loved his babbehs and special friend. But, he hurt. So much. Anymore, and he would die. So he thought and thought.
3 mins passed, Brandon waited. It was the climax. The ultimate choice. Him or his family. Most wouldn’t think twice about selling their own family. But after this torment, one couldnt be certian.
“Take…” Bourbon spoke up, finally having made a decision “take famiwy. No more huwties.”
He began to cry softly. It hurt. Not physically, but emotionally. He didn’t want to hand them over to the monster. But he hurt too much. He just wanted it to stop.
“Ha…ha.” Brandon began to laugh “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, YOU SELFISH SHITSTAIN! HAHAHAHAAH” This was what he wanted, to break him. To turn him against his family. “YOU JUST DAMNED YOUR FAMILY TO THE SAME GAME!” Brandon laughed and laughed. It was a cruel joke that only the jester found funny.
“Ah, but rules are rules. My dear fluffy.” He said in a mocked caring tone “ill fix you right up.” With that, he stitched up Bourbon and gave him antibiotics and painkillers. He walked over to the camera and pressed stop. He would get so many views on the message board.
He took Bourbon up to the guest bedroom. It had been turned into a fluffy safe room. Although, he would need to modify it for a pillowfluff. No worries, he had more fun for tomorrow.
He placed Bourbon on a comfortable fluffy bed and put the litter box behind him. He turned the tv on to a pillow safe fluffy channel and walked out.
Bourbon hadnt said anything. He was heartbroken, but no longer in pain. Surprisingly, the monster had kept his word. Some point in the day Brandon came back into the safe room. He changed Bourbon’s bandages and took him into the livijg room. He gave Bourbon a bowl of extra soft kibble, to help with any stomach problems he might have. After Bourbon half-heartedly finished his food. Brandon picked him up and placed him in his lap. Petting him while he watched TV.
Bourbon winced every time Brandon touched him. The memories of pain would never leave. All Bourbon could think about was his family and how worried they might be.
After it hit darkie time, the monster put him to bed. He put a nice night light on, and made the bed comfortable.
“Goodnight, my dear Bourbon.” Brandon said as he shut the door.
Bourbon cried himself to sleep, repeatedly saying “am wowstest daddeh ebah. Huuhuu.”