Here’s part 2. Originally this was gonna be the finale but I figured it’d be way too long. So I decided to make the ending its own separate part. Anyways enjoy.
~2 weeks later~
The babies are growing nicely. They’re exploring away from their mother more and more. I walked into the living room and see Mary is nowhere to be found. I ask the babies.
“Mummah go see Daddeh.”
“Mummah say she go gib daddeh Huggies.”
“Yeah Speciaw huggies.”
“Mummah say fluffy no tawkies”
“Shush poopie babbeh”
“Ye stoopie poopy babbeh”
Mary is trying to get pregnant again. I’m not putting up with another litter.
I slip my coat and shoes on and walk towards the wood shed. I can hear the creaking from inside so I hurry. Before I open the door I hear
“Heehee dumbeh hooman sez smawty nu hab Enfies. Nu hab babbehs.”
This already pissed me off but it’s what I heard next that sealed the deal. Mary responded.
“Fwuffy heawd dumbeh hooman tell hooman fwen dat he make fwuffies go bah bah when nu mow babbehs.”
The mare laughs.
“Smawty make mow babbehs an smawty an Speciaw fwen stay fowebew. Smawty an Speciaw fwen take housies. Gib wowstest hoofsies to dumbeh hooman and dumbeh mawe.”
At the mention of frosting I get angry.
“Nu. Nu make fwosin go fowevew sweepies.”
Mary said. Atleast she had some sense.
“Make dumbeh fwosin into wittah paw. Wike hav at owd housie”
The two laugh. Here I was feeding and caring for this ingrate and her babies yet here she was making plans to kill me and turn my fluffy into a litter pal. That was the final straw. Any sympathy I had before left in that moment. I wanted to kick the door in and bash their little heads in there and then… But I didn’t. No I didn’t. For in that moment a plan hatched. I would take care of these little monsters in a way that makes death seem like a paradise.
~2 weeks later~
My sister was over today. She was in fluffy heaven playing with them all. I took the opportunity and talked her into taking the little brown fluffy home. I know she’ll treat the little bugger like her own child so atleast I know he’s found a good home. He’ll Probably be spoiled by the time I go to her house for her birthday next month. I think frosting wanted to keep him. Poor girl was heartbroken, but I’m a 1 fluffy man. Which brings me to the start of my plan. While Mary protests being pregnant again I know otherwise. My first step will be disposing of the unborn foals.
It took me a while but upon researching the subject I found a product made by Hasbio themselves.
“Foal B gone! Just feed to your expecting mare and goodbye annoying foals. Now available in sketti flavor”
It sounded perfect.
~3 weeks later~
Mary was starting to really show now. Her stomach was starting to bulge already and she still has 2 weeks. Now’s the perfect time. I dress frosting up in her winter gear and leash and we head into town.
“Wook Daddeh! Biwdsies!”
She says looking out the car window. It’s nice to actually think about a fluffy that isn’t a gremlin.
We park and walk inside the local pet store. They’ve opened a whole section completely based on Hasbio products for Fluffies.
“Daddeh wook at aw da fishies!”
Frosting stopped and looked up at the fish tanks. Ya know despite everything I don’t hate Fluffies. This whole situation taught me that like people there are good and bad Fluffies.
“Here we go.”
I grab the can of foal b gone.
“Wat dat Daddeh? Fwuffy tweats?”
I look at the excited mare.
“Even better. Special skettis!”
Her eyes got wide.
“YAY SKETTIS! IM A DANCY FWUFFY!”
Frosting starts doing her little kicking dance while spinning in a circle. Of course to her being fixed it will just act like regular spaghetti. But to Mary … Well let’s just say step one is about to be in full swing.
My next stop is the art supply store.
I browse the sowing section while frosting looks amazed at all the fabric.
"Woooooooawie. Aw da pwetti bwankies. Daddeh can fwosing hab pwetti bwankies? "
I look down.
“Now frosting we didn’t come here for-”
Yeah now here we are in my car with sowing supplies and a new blanket draped over frosting .
Finally my last stop. The donut shop. Can’t execute a plan on an empty stomach.
“Mmm fwosing wuv Daddeh. Wuv donut. Wuv hawt choccie. Wuv bwankies.”
I start my preparations that night. I went to my tool shed. I cleared off and sterilized my work bench. Along with my saws and knives. With my drill I fastened 4 brackets onto my bench without tightening them down. I make sure my blow torch is full of fuel. Then I leave for the night.
The next day was sketti day.
The foals smelling the pasta sauce heating up chatter amongst themselves. I’ve named them since they stopped chirping.
Potato is dancing around singing
“Sketti day sketti day all skettis fow babbeh!”
Turnip complains
“Nu babbeh wan sum too!”
Then there’s onion.
“Nuu. All sketti fow bestest babbeh!”
I bring in the bowl of chopped up spaghetti for the foals.
“Now now onion. What did daddy tell you about “bestest babbeh”?”
Onion looks scared.
" Uuuuuh … Dew is nu bestest babbeh. Whoebah is bestest babbeh get sowwy boxxy."
He tears up…
“And does onion want sorry boxxy?”
I say.
“NUU UNUN NUU WAN BOXXY! UNUN NO BESTEST BABBEH!”
I laugh and sit the bowl down. The foals waste no time digging in.
“Now you two be patient and I’ll get yours.”
Mary stands up. Her stomach noticably almost touching the ground. This must be her biggest litter yet. How fun.
Meanwhile frosting prances around the living room.
“HAPPY DANCY FWUFFY!!! Daddeh gib Speciaw sketti!”
She cheers.
“Speciaw sketti?”
Mary asks.
“Daddeh an fwosing go stow. Get spensive Speciaw sketti!”
Marie’s eyes light up. They both sing special skettis as I walk in the kitchen.
I smile to myself as I open up the can of foal B gone. Those crazy bastards at Hasbio are diabolical. It looks and smells like a regular can of pre made and canned spaghetti. I dump it in Mary and frostings bowl. Of course I did do my research to make sure it wouldn’t hurt frosting. Worst it could do is give her an upset tummy.
I walk back in and sit the bowl down. The two hungrily dig in.
“Dis is bestest sketti evah Daddeh!”
Frosting says.
The babies who’s bowl is now licked clean look longingly.
“Hey! Babbehs wan Speciaw skettis!”
“Ye! Nu feiw!”
“Babbeh need Speciaw sketti!.. An babbeh antacid.”
I look at the little fluffballs.
“Now now babies. Special skettis is only for big Fluffies. How about I get you another bowl?”
They forget about the special skettis and start dancing with glee.
“Am danceh babbeh fo secon skettis!”
Later that night I hear it starting to take effect.
“Huuhuuhuu tummy huwties!”
I hear Mary whining even from her room.
“Wha?..NU!! NU TUMMEH BABBEHS! TOO SOON TOO SOON! NU CUM OUTSIES!!!”
I chuckle to myself thinking of the agony that bitch must be going through. That’s what ya get when you take advantage of a being smarter and stronger than you little bastards. I leave my room and walk into where Mary is. She’s curled up on the floor with a pool of blood already forming under her tail. The babies are frantically trying to hug her.
“Mummah had huwties? Babbeh gib bestest Huggies!”
"Pwease no hab huwties mummah. Babbehs need Huggies an wuv!
“HUUHUUHUU mommeh gon go fowevew sweepies.”
I pick up the foals and put them in a box. Sitting them with frosting in her safe room.
When I get back the first half developed fetus is already halfway out.
“Buhuuhuu! Nu babbehs nu! Too eawies too eawies!”
Out plops another. And another. At the end five dead underdeveloped foals and 1 still somehow clinging to life. It tries to chirp but it’s vocal chords can’t produce a sound.
“Babbeh? Wun babbeh awive?”
With gloves on I grab the one still alive and give it too Mary.
“SCREEEEEE! Babbeh nu babbeh nu! Why you cum eawy? Nao babbehs am get fowevew sweepies!”
I looked down at the hysteric mare as she frantically tries to feed the half alive fetus trying to keep it living. It dies trying to suckle on her tit.
“I thought you weren’t pregnant Mary.”
She still cries…
“Babbehs! Need babbehs! Buhuuhuu! Am wowstest mummah!”
I pick up one of the dead foals and throw it at her. It smacks her in the eye.
“SCREEE! See pwace huwties!”
She looks at me.
“I thought you said you weren’t pregnant Mary.”
“Huuhuuhuu! See pwace owies. Nu babbehs! Huuhuuhuu!”
I grab the mare by her tail and pick her up.
“BAD UPSIES BAD UPSIES!!! WHY DADDEH GIB WOWSTEST TAIW HUWTIES!!!”
I open frostings pet carrier and throw her in. Locking the door in front of her.
“Buuhuuhuu why Daddeh huwt mawy?!?”
I grin.
“Don’t call be daddy you pig. I know you’re little game. How your trying to run a long con on me.”
She sobs and looks at me
“Buh … Mawy nu piggy. Mawy fwuffy. Mawy nu Wong con.”
I shake the cage.
“You’re a bad liar Mary. Maybe next time you won’t explain your little plan while visiting your little “Speciaw fwen” in the wood shed.”
Her eyes widen as she realizes I know.
“Ugh! Dummeh hooman nu wet Speciaw fwen in wawm housie. Den dummeh hooman huwt Speciaw fwen an make him num poopies meant for poopy babbeh. Now hooman make babbeh fowevew sweepies. Mawy atechu. ATECHU! Wet mawy out of sowwy box! Gib sowwy hoofsies”
I can’t help but laugh. Even while threatening me I can’t possibly take this creature the least bit seriously.
She turns around but this time I’m ready.
“Take sowwy poopi-SCREEEEEEE!!!”
Before she even finishes her sentence I shove an old champagne cork so far up her ass only the rim sticks out.
“POOPIE PWACE BIGGEST HUWTIES!!!”
“Huuhuuhuu! Speciaw fwen. Babbehs! Pwease HEWP mawy!”
I slip my shoes on.
“No one’s coming to help you. And quit calling yourself Mary.”
“Buh…buh… Mawy am namesies”
I laugh.
“Not anymore I gave it to you I can take it away. Your new name is lying whore.”
“Sniffle mawy nu wike nyu namesies. Wan be mawy. Nu wyin hoow.”
I take her out and put her in my truck. I look at the thermometer. 42F. Not cold enough to kill her but definitely enough to make her suffer.
“Nu. Nu wanna be in cowd metah munstah! Wan be wawm housies. Need awive babbehs! Babbehs need mummah. Babbehs need Huggies an wuv.”
I start closing the door.
“Oh they’ll get plenty of Huggies and wuv. Before I chop them up and eat them.”
“NUUU NU NUM BABBEHS!”
I shut the door as she pleads.
Of course I’m not really gonna eat them. The babies haven’t done anything wrong. I figure frosting will take care of them until I can find them homes.
Lying whore’s fate can wait until tomorrow. I’m not done yet.
I walk in and pick up the dead fetuses. Put them in a box then head to the kitchen. Today on cooking with chef fluffy killer we’re making shit head surprise. We start our recipe by lining the bottom of the bowl with 5 newly dead foals. Preferably the diners own offspring. Open up a can of premade spaghetti and dump on top. Cover the dead babies where they can’t be seen and vioala! Shit head surprise. The surprise is the secret ingredient. And what happens after he eats it. But that’s a secret for later.
I take the vile concoction and walk out to the woodshed.
" Sniff sniff. Wait. Dat smew… DAT SKETTI!"
Oh it’s sketti alright ya little bastard.
I walk in and sit the bowl down. He looks at me sheepishly.
“Why dummeh hooman gib smawty skettis? Dummeh hooman nu wike smawty.”
I smile.
“Ok if you don’t want it I’ll take it back.”
“NUU NUU! Smawty num sketti. Fank you.”
The smarty hungrily eats the spaghetti.
“Dis bestest sketti evah!”
He keeps eating until finally.
“… What dis? Meat baws?”
“You could say that.”
He picks one out and starts licking the sauce off before finally realizing.
“dat…DAT BABBEH!!!”
I laugh.
“What? Don’t like sketti and foals? Would it make it better if I said it was your babbehs?”
“HUUHUUU! NU! BABBEHS! DADDEH AM HEW BABBEHS! NU BE FOWEVEW SWEEPIES!”
He gathers up the 5 dead foals.
“Daddeh gib Huggies. Huggies make feew Betta! Huggies make babbehs awive! Huuhuu!”
A pathetic display.
“Wha? Why smawty feew… Sweepy?”
The secret ingredient was a large (for a fluffy) helping of horse tranquilizer.
“Smawty nee geh upsies. Smawty nee save babbehs.”
I pick him up by the nap of his neck and put a cork in his backside too. The fact that these things still rely so much on shit disgusts me.
“Poopie… Poo…poop…pwacey…huw…ties.”
Damn I think I went a little overboard on the tranquilizer. Oh well. I take him to my now prepared tool shed. I place each of his good for nothing “weggies” in the braces I drilled on my workbench. I tighten them down just enough to restrict blood flow to the hooves without cutting it off completely. If he does somehow escape when he wakes up he’ll be unable to walk.
And with that the plan is done for the night. I still hear Mary (now lying whore) pleading to be let out.
I go back inside and see the trio of alive foals snuggled on top of frosting sleeping. Completely unaware that they’re about to be orphaned. I go to sleep.
~The next day~
I wake up bright and early and get dressed.
“Whew Daddeh go?”
Frosting says watching me get my real clothes on instead of my standard weekend pajamas.
“I have to go run an errand in town. I need frosting to be a good fluffy and watch the babies.”
She looks puzzled.
“Fwosing wuv babbehs buh… Why mawy no watch?”
Poor innocent thing.
“Mary is going with me. She has a vet appointment.”
Her eyes go wide when I mention the evil horrible no good veterinarian.
“FWOSING NU WIKE VET!”
“You’re not going. Mary is. Now will you watch the babies?”
She seems relieved that she’s not the unlucky one.
“Phew… Fwosin take gud caew of babbehs.”
I leave them a bowl of kibble and walk out the door. As I leave I can hear the foals.
“Whew mummah?”
“Why mummah go bah bah?”
“Does mummah no wuv babbehs no mow?”
I walk out to my truck half expecting to smell like shit. As I get in nothing but fluffy scent. Thank god the cork held. Mary fell asleep last night. Must have screamed herself out. As I start the truck and warm air starts coming out of the vents she shuffles.
“W…wawm? Mawy need wawm. So cowdies… Will mistah pwease wet mawy out? Need go make good poopies.”
Heh. Now she’s acting nice again.
“Nope. Sorry. Not unless you say it with your new name.”
“Buh… Nu wike nyu namesies.”
“Too bad. No poopies till ya do”
She goes silent.
" . Can mistah wet wyin hoow out foh gud poopies?"
I laugh.
“That’s better. But not in your life ya little bastard.”
The whole ride to town was mix of talking about needing to shit and how nice being warm is. Eventually she falls back asleep.
Yeah enjoy it now. This may be the last bit of comfort you’re ever going to get. I finally stop at the Hasbio fluffy hospital. (A small veterinary clinic solely for Fluffies) I call the front desk and a woman in scrubs meets me outside.
“So is this the poor girl?”
She asks.
“Yep. She keeps having foals too early and is really a hassle to litter box train. I’m just done with it”
Mary protests
“Am not bad fwuffy! Am gud!”
The nurse inspects Mary .
“Hmmm… I don’t know. Normally we only do this procedure with foals. Easier for them to adapt to the whole process.”
The nurse starts to look hesitant.
I pipe up.
“If it’s a bother I’m willing to pay double the normal rate.”
She smirks.
“Well how can I possibly refuse that offer?”
We laugh.
“So how long is it gonna take?”
I ask.
“It takes a week. The procedure itself only takes an afternoon. Recovery about 2 days. The other 4 days are for mental training and diet adjustment. Then we’ll call you to come pick up your brand new litter pal.”
Mary’s eyes widen.
“Wa? NUU! NU WAN BE WITTAH PAW! NU WAN NUM POOPIES! NEE BABBEHS! BABBEHS NEE MUMMAH! NEE SPECIEW FWEN! NEE HUGGIES! MUMMAH MUMMAH! SAV BESTEST BABBEH!! BUUHUUHUU!!!”
as the mare cries the nurse takes her inside. My plan is coming rather nicely. Now. There’s one more waiting at home I need to take care of.
