May 2012
Bill Foalfucher walked onto the grimy Hasbio Bioengineering lab floor, carrying a Golden fluffy mare. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!” He declared.
“It’s a fluffy, Bill, you gave a presentation on them to the Senate.”
“Fwuffy am Fwuffy!”
Bill swiveled, flashing the crotchtits in the face of the offending speaker. “I mean…this.”
“Pwease nu huwt fwuffy!”
“Boobs?” He asked.
“Why. Does. A. Children’s. Toy. Have. Boobs?” The engineer looked at Bill blankly. “To feed it’s babies?” The engineer asked blankly.
Bill dropped the Fluffy in the engineer’s lap. “A fluffy sold in Hasblo stores should not have these. They’re supposed to be fixed before they can develop. And yet some which have been fixed too late have them. How do you think parents will react when the kid’s new expensive biotoy has a pair of big old titties? Show some fucking empathy and at least code animal nipples instead. Fix. It. Now.”
Bill turned to his aide. Sandra was very broadly knowledgable, and was the perfect for making sure things were done how Bill wanted it. “I need to cool down a bit, i’ll be in my office. The soundproof one. Make sure they finish this first.” Bill scooped up the Fluffy and took it with him.
“Bad Upsies!”
Fluffy looked around , as it was dropped uncerimoniously on a hard table by nyu daddeh. “OWIE!” it shouted. “Oh come on, we designed you to take a bullet.”
“What am boo-let?”
“Something that hurts waaaaay worse than what’s about to happen here.” Bill said as he placed the crotch tits in a vice on the desk and started turning. “Fwuffy need dese for be mummah and give babbehs miwkies!” She shouted as the vice started to get really tight.
“You’re not going to be a mummah. Ever. You don’t” -turn- “need” -turn- “them!”
“WANNA BE MUMMAAAAAAAAAHHHHGGGGGGG!!!”
“We haven’t really started yet.” It was true. The nipples weren’t lactating milk, let alone blood. Bill hated the sight of blood, it made him dizzy, angry and slightly afraid.
Some of the other people on the board of directors had introduced him to fluffy pony abuse, and though the gore sickened him, their suffering was delightful. For Bill, blood-free fluffy abuse was just another challenge. Like getting the senate to recognize these things as “biotoys.”
“See, the Insurance Cartels know what it means if Hasbio has the kind of Bio-tech it takes to make a new life.” Bill said to the vice-gripped fluffy as he flogged those ridiculous crotchtits with the rubber baton some of Hasbio’s inner circle were calling “the sorry stick.”
“It means” -whap!- “that we can print organs if we put our minds to it.” -whap!- “That technology shouldn’t exist, I don’t know where we got it, but I damn well intend to bury those vultures in the biggest PR Coup of all time once we figure it out!”
Bill performed a spinning side strike right across both nipples, and was rewarded with a delightful shade of cherry red to the skin, and with a chorus of “huu huu huu!” Bill flashed a massive shit eating grin, and got right up in the stupid creature’s face and mockingly echoed it’s cries. “HUU HUU HUU! I’M A RETARDED BIOTOY THAT DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THE FIRST FUCKING THING ABOUT HUMAN PAIN! HUU HUU HUU!”
The fluffy, of course, did not get it.
“You don’t understand. Of course. Let me explain it to you in terms you’ll get. Not for any particular reason, but because I need to explain myself.” Bill calmed noticably. “See, there are some- no, I shouldn’t start like that. You know your fluffy mummies and daddehs?”
“Fwuffy wan be mummah!”
Whenever I think i’ve discovered the outer limits of Fluffy idiocy, they always manage to one-up themselves, Bill thought.
“See, humans have Mummahs and Daddehs too. Including 'ol Bill Foalfucher.” The fluffy was nonplussed. “That’s my name.”
“Fwuffy wike pwetty namesie! Can Fwuffy be Biww Foaw-fu-fu- Foaw-fingy too?” Fluffies were unable to swear. “Foalfucker,” one protester had called him. Apparently the programming thought his name was too close to a swear.
“I’ll think about it. Anyway, my mummah and daddeh were quite well off, which isn’t common for people of my racial background.”
Nothing.
“Oh Jesus Christ. Ok. My Mummah and Daddeh got all the best toysies, housies, and sketties because they were very good humans.”
Bill undid the vice a single turn. Those crotchtits were turning purple, and he wasn’t really in the mood for abuse anymore.
“One day, daddeh got really sick. He was taken to a human vet, but the people who were supposed to give the doctors the sketties for them to make him better refused to do it. Daddeh had given those people lots and lots of sketties over the years, but when the time came for them to give back, they gave a whole bunch of excuses for why they wouldn’t do it.”
“DAT NO AM FAIW AT AWW!”
“And they do this to lots and lots of humans. Mummah and Daddeh had to give up all their toysies, sketties, and even their nice housie. The story has a happy ending though. I managed to get more sketties, toysies, and housies then they ever did and gave them anything they could ever want. But for most humans, things don’t work out like that. They’re just not that strong, even though they’re just as deserving as we were.”
“Wan Huggies?” the fluffy asked. “Huggies make evewything better.”
Here, the paths diverge a little bit. I have two possible endings, both of which fit Bill’s capricious “i am your god” attitude towards fluffies, so pick your poison.
Ending 1(Hugbox ending)
“You know what? Sure.” Bill undid the vice and allowed the deeply flawed creature to hug him. “Fwuffy unnastan hooman sadness an why you do what you do. You wan huwt fwuffy, go wite ahead.”
Wow, I just managed to teach something resembling altruism to a fluffy. I think i’m gonna make sure this one lives a long, happy life.
Ending 2(Abuse ending)
“You know what? Sure.” Bill undid the vice - and promptly rammed the sorry stick up the deeply flawed creature’s ass. “NUUUUUU! WHY! FWUFFY UNNASTAN HOOMIN SADNESS NAO!”
“Because fuck you, that’s why.”
Epilogue: The next day, after either ending.
Bill woke up in his antebellum mansion to the sound of his bedside telephone ringing. It was - 4:30 am. He grabbed the phone, still half-asleep “This had better be important.”
"Bill, it’s Jeff. " Jeff Laird. The CEO. The Arthur of Hasbio’s weird bizarro round-table leadership. “Turn on channel 16.” Bill complied, and was greeted by a skeletally-thin lady newscaster with the slightest hint of Dixie accent.
“-break-in at the Hasbio labs here in Charleston. Police are on the scene and preparing a statement.”
“You already know the gory details. What’s the damage?”
“All the animals are gone, the tech’s been savaged.”
“Biotoys.” Bill corrected him.
“Right. It’s all insured, of course, but all the other labs are on red alert. The police say this was PETA, but, Bill, this was a professional monkeywrench. They even found the soundproof room.”
“Fuck. What’s the spin?” Bill’s heart sank a little, he’d been looking forward to spending more time with that golden one.
“If the room gets publicized? Durability testing of deactivated units. Jane’s prepared the PR Report, teams are already sweeping the county for our property and any theives.”
“Alright. I’m coming in. See you there.”