Red Conan & The Snake Daddy - Part 03 - The Snake Cult - Story by Hornlarry with Art by Great White Nope (Booru ID 41228)

Red Conan was wondering the alleyways of Toronto, searching for food. It was dark-time, and the air was cold. He could hear rat-monsters rustling in the alley trash, but he was not afraid. Red Conan was wearing the “armour” that he had found in the cellar of dead fluffy pit-fighters, made of old tin cans, with leather straps holding it together. He had a large horn-blade over his unicorn horn, and spikey fluffy shoes on his hooves. Really, he needed a daddah or master to strap it to his body properly, but even loose armour was better than none.

Just then, from a darkened corner of the alleyway, Conan heard the voice of another fluffy.

“Nummies? nummies?” the voice begged.

Red Conan drew closer, and in the gloom of the alleyway, far from the human street lights, he could just about make out the form of a half-starved brown fluff, tied to a crate.

“Who am yu?” Red Conan asked the fluffy.

“Fwuffy am cawwed, Scooby-Guy. Scooby-Guy am bestest nummy findew in da wowwd,” the emaciated fluffy said, clearly trying to impress Conan.

“Den why am Scooby-Guy hewe?” He asked.

The brown fluffy looked down at his hooves in defeat, “Am dinnew fow wat-mustahs,” he sighed.

Red Conan laughed, and started to chew through Scooby-Guys neck rope with his metal shark teeth, setting the fluffy free.


“Do you believe in the Sky-Daddahs?” asked Conan, as they sat down by a passed out hobo’s alley fire, and ate some nummies that Scooby-Guy had found.

“Es,” the brown fluffy replied, in between mouthfuls of discarded chinese takeout, “Scooby-Guy pway to Uni da Unicown, she am in da Skettywand now, da weaw skettywand.”

Conan thought to himself for a moment. He had heard other fluffies cry out Uni’s name, normally in terror has he defeated them in a pit-fighting tournament. They seemed to think that Uni would save them somehow, but she never did.

“Wat about yu Conan?” Scooby-guy asked.

“Wed Cownan bewieve in CWOM. But nu pway to Cwom, Cwom nu wisten anyway.”

“Ha,” said Scooby-Guy, “Scooby-Guy sky-mummah is bestest, she wisten, an wiww show Scooby-Guy way to Skettywand aftew fowevew sweepies.” the brown fluffy smiled, and went back to numming old chinese food. Red Conan laughed. He really liked this fluffy.


“Wat am dis pwace?” asked Conan, looking at the giant human building they had entered.

“Hoomins caww it… a Waww-Mawt,” Scooby-guy told him, “Dey comes hewe in da bwight-tiem, fow find nummies fow hoomin hewd. Scooby-Guy onwy come hewe at Dawk-Tiem, dat am bestest tiem fow fwuffy nummies.”

Red Conan couldn’t believe how many nummies there were in the store. Lots of them were in boxes and not nummy wrappers, but his horn blade and teeth made short work of them. Red Conan and Scooby guy ate cookies and potato chips, smashed open glass jars of pickles and peanut butter, and even found sketties, although they were hard and dry, and had no meatballs with them.

“Dis am da bestest!” Conan said, eating another pickle, carefully avoiding the glass.

“Yes!” an da best fing is, da hoomins wiww bwing back mowe nummies, even if fwuffies nummed dem aww!" Scooby-Guy told him.

Just then, they heard movement in the shadows, half an aisle away.

“Wat dat!” said Conan, suddenly alert.

“It wook wike annuva fwuffy!” Scooby-guy, “HEY FWUFFY! Dis am Scooby-Guy wand! Weave now, ow toughie-fwiend wiww giv wowstest owwies!”

Red Conan readied himself to fight if he had to. He was a hardened and well fed pit-fighter, but feral herds could still be dangerous. The other fluffy didn’t run or fight though, he just peered around the corner of the aisle, and talked to Conan and his friend.

“Oh fwuffys gonna be in twoubew if da mean hoomins come. Dey nu wike mess on da fwoow.”

Conan looked at trampled food, broken glass and poop he and Scooby-Guy had made behind them.

“Why fwuffy cawe if make mess on fwoow?” he challenged the other fluff.

“Nu cawe, jus nu want get sowwy stick. Meanie hoomin cawwed SECUWITY GAWD wiww come, wiv magic wight and biggest sowwy stick.”

“Dat nu twue!” said Scooby-Guy, “Fwuffy jus’ want num aww Scooby-guy nummies!”

Just then, the lights to the store flickered, and came on at their full brightness. Conan and the other fluffies were dazzled and blinking, but clearly heard an angry human voice in the distance.

“What the actual fuck? Fluffy shit? There’s fucking fluffies in the store again! FUCK!”

“WUN!” said the strange blue fluffy. So Red Conan and Scooby-Guy followed him as fast as they could.


The fluffies ran and ran, further than Conan had ever run before. The human store went on and on, and the feral fluffies, skinny and not weighed down with armour, could run faster than Conan. Still he followed as fast as he could, and eventually they found themselves in an old abandoned warehouse, half a block away from the human store with its mean security guards.

The fluffies caught their breath. The blue fluffy said his name was “Nummer” because he liked eating more than anything else. Then he said something that made Red Conan’s blood run cold.

“If fwuffies wan find nummies, den dey shud gu meet da Snake Daddah. Da Snake Daddah givs sketties to evewyfwuffy.”

“Da Snake Daddah!” Conan yelled, “Wewe am dis Snake Daddah!”

“Da Snake Daddah am in anuva wawehowse, Nummew know da way, fowwow Nummew if wan sketties.”

Scooby-Guy and Red Conan followed Nummer through side streets and alleyways. Red Conan didn’t care about the sketties, he wanted REVENGE.


Phil was feeling great. Over the last couple of months, he had managed to build the Snake Daddy part of the franchise, and now had started the Church of Skettyland up in Toronto as well. He’d flown over from Vancouver specially for tonight.

The plan was simple. Jake was handling the Reptile World franchise, selling a snakes and reptiles, and fluffies as food. All kinds of people who would not normally buy snakes and reptiles became VERY interested once they watched a fluffy family beg, shit and scream with fear as they were eaten one by one. Jake handled his side of the business very well, and true to his word, split the takings with Phil 50-50.

Phil thought running a reptile store franchise was boring though. Initially, the best part had been feeding the fluffies to the snakes, but that soon paled in comparison with preaching about Spaghetti land to the fluffies. They truly believed that they were the chosen fluffs, and that they would go to Spaghetti Land after they died. If an unbeliever doubted his words, they stomped him, if he asked them to give up their foals, they did so, though not without crying. If he told them to bring him Alicorns, they brought him fucking Alicorns! If he told them to give the warehouse floor “wicky-cweanies” damn if they didn’t lick the floor clean right there in front of him. They would literally eat their own shit if he so commanded.

His set up was now quite advanced. He had flown over some of his best recruiter fluffies, and set them free in nearby alleys, to spread the word of the Church of Skettyland. He had some old Uni the Unicorn shows and a large projector, so the fluffies could see her singing about spaghetti land and shaking her Unicorn ass. Some of the stallions would become extremely excited whenever they saw Uni, and some of his congregations became full on fluffy orgies towards the end of the night. Phil didn’t care, he thought it was hilarious.

His spaghetti guys cost a bunch to feed the fluffies, and his “chosen fluffs” typically brought him only a hundred or so dollars a night. It was basically a massive money losing scheme, as unlike human churches, fluffies didn’t have dollars to donate. On occasion, they did bring Alicorns, which could be worth thousands, but that money soon went on spaghetti, gas, and paying his growing band of human helpers. The money problem was solved with Phil’s masterful idea.

For every person who wanted to own a snake and feed fluffies to it, there were ten or more who wanted to watch, but without getting their hands dirty with reptile or fluffy ownership. Abuse SHOWS were what people wanted, and Phil was the Ringmaster and Showman of the Church of Spaghetti Land.

Tonight would be no exception.


“Dis am da pwace,” said Nummer, leading them towards another abandoned warehouse.

Something in a street nearby caught Conan’s eye, distracting him for a moment. It was a human picture box in a shop window, lit by their magic lights, showing a fat human man, with a blonde mane that looked like it was one of those fake “wig” things, standing in front of a giant wall, with lots of crying fluffies begging him to let them in. He just stood there, looking mean. Red Conan could not read that it said: GOVERNOR QUIMBY RUNNING FOR US PRESIDENT.

“Who am dat? A hoomin sky-daddah?”

Scooby-Guy squinted at the picture, which changed to one of Quimby kissing babies.

“Nu, it am a Hoomin smawty, cawwed Qwuimby, Qwuimby nu wike fwuffies,” Scooby-guy explained.

“Oh,” said Conan, wondering why hoomins were so mean.

“Do fwuffies stiww wan sketties? It am dis way!” said Nummer impatiently.

“Otay Nummew,” said Scooby-guy, as they followed the fluffy towards the warehouse.


“Greetings Fluffarinos!” Phil exclaimed, as the old advert for the Spaghetti Land amusement park finished playing in the background. Phil had removed the part talking about Cleveland, Ohio, and let the fluffies imagination and his preaching do the rest.

“HEWWOW SNAKE-DADDAH!” the fluffies cried. His church had only been in Toronto for two weeks, and the herd was already five hundred strong. So far, he had been talking to them via Skype, projected on to the warehouse wall, but tonight he was here in person.

“I said GREETINGS FLUFFARINOS!”

“HEWWOOWW SNAKE-DADDAH!” the fluffies yelled, even more enthusiastically.

“Are you ready for tonight?”

“YESSSS!” they all cried in unison.

“Tonight, my little fluffies, fifty of you will be chosen, to be taken directly to skettyland. No longer will you suffer. No longer will you be cold, or hungry. Some of you will see your mummahs, and daddahs again. Some of you will be reunited with your bestest babies, who have gone forever sleepies, some of you will have NEW LEGGIES. Stallions, in Skettyland, Uni the Unicorn will give you special huggies! Mares, in Skettyland, all your babies will survive, all of them will be pretty, and smell pretty, and best of all, you will eat sketties EVERY DAY, and make bestest milkies! In Spaghetti Land, ALL fluffies will grow up, BIG AND STRONG!”

The fluffies roared with approval, eating up his every word, even though his every word was bullshit. Phil had learned so much, just by hearing the fluffies ask questions. Everything they asked for, he promised Skettyland would provide. It was so easy now, that he didn’t even need to ask, as Fluffies everywhere wanted the same things it seemed.

His services started with a Skettyland advert, illegal on TV or the internet, but made all the more special by being projected on to the wall of a warehouse, like an underground broadcast. Then, he would speak, then play some songs by Uni, or from FluffTV, then speak again. Finally, it would be time for the chosen ones, roughly ten percent of the congregation, who he would pick at random (occasionally picking expensive and rare colour combinations, but not often enough that the fluffies would grow suspicious that he only chose pretty-fluffs), and finally, the spaghetti.

Sometimes, he would close with more Uni the Unicorn, which normally triggered a fluff-pile orgy.

Then, as the fluffies left to spread the word, or slept off their orgy in a herd sized fluff-pile, he would take the “chosen fluffs” to another location, typically in a closed off part of the warehouse, where the abuse show would begin.


“See! It am sketty wand!” said Nummer, “At da end, Da Snake Daddah wiww choose da chosen-fwuffs, an den giv aww da ova fwuffies sketties!” he was wagging his tail with enthusiasm, “Sketties!”

“Scooby-guy wan sketties,” Said Scooby, but he looked suspicious, which was rare indeed for a fluffy. “But da Snake-Daddah can nu take fwuffies to Skettywand, onwy Uni da Unicown can du dat, Scooby-mummah hav towd Scooby, when was just wittew babbeh.”

Red Conan nodded. Many fluffy mummahs, feral and domestic would tell their foals stories about spaghetti land and Uni; tales their mummahs had told them, told to them by their mummahs. Red Conan remembered Old Mummah at the shelter, telling him and the other foals about Crom.

“Uni am HEWE!” said Nummer, “She sing to fwuffies on da magic waww!”

“Whaaa?” said Scooby-Guy.

“Weawy!” said Nummer, “Jus wait an see!”

“Dat nu magic waww,” mumbled Scooby-Guy, “Dat just big Fwuff-Teebee. Scooby-Guy wemembew, fwom human mummah’s howse. Dese fewaw fwuffies is dummehs Cownan,” he whispered to his friend.

Conan grunted in agreement. Then, as the spaghetti land vanished from the “magic wall”, the Snake-Daddah himself appeared on stage.

“Greetings Fluffarinos!”

Conan growled, loud enough for other fluffies to take a step or two away from him. It was the Snake Daddy! He, who had murdered Conan’s mother, Jelly, after torturing her horrifically. Red Conan had vowed Revenge, But the Alicorn he had met had told him the Snake Daddy would be in the city of Vancouver. How was he here in Toronto?

“Scooby,” Conan said to his friend, “Dis Snake-Daddah is da wowstest meanie. Da Snake-Daddah hav kiwwed da Cownan-mummah, an wiww kiww aww dese fwuffies, weawy badwy. Wed Cownan an Scooby-Guy shud steaw da Snake-Daddah’s bestest nummies and wun away.”

“Dat,” said Scooby, “sounds wike a bwiwwiant idea!”


Phil ended his show with an armful of baby fluffies, and about forty more adult fluffies in the back of his van. It only really had room for about fifteen or so, but as they were all going to die soon he just hurled them in, not caring that they were two or three fluffies deep, or if babies got trampled in the melee. The fluffies were complaining, and asking for the sketties which the rest of the congregation was loudly numming.

“Don’t worry little fluffies,” he told them. “Not long now, and you will be in Skettyland.”

The five babies he was holding on to cooed and squealed with delight. Phil had one in his hand, a pearly white foal with a rainbow mane, that was beaming with glee and crying with joy that she had been chosen. Her mother had cried and pleaded with him not to take her, saying she was “just a wittew babbeh” and that she needed mummah and milk. Phil laughed remembering it, knowing that her baby wouldn’t need anything for very much longer. The foal was easily worth a hundred dollars, more as she could breed more of her colours when she was fully grown. Phil decided to sacrifice her first. Sure, it was a waste of money, but it gave Phil the same kind of kick as burning a hundred dollar bill just to light a joint.

“What is your name little baby?” he asked the squealing foal.

“Nu hav name, mummah onwy caww fwuffy, bestest-babbeh,” the adorable little fuzzball said, tears of joy still streaming down her face.

“Awww… you’re so cute, I think I’ll call you Sacrifice.”

“Sacwifice? Fwuffy hab NAME? Fwuffy wub new name! Sacwifice WUB Snake Daddah!”

“Awww I’m glad you like your name Sacrifice,” no settle down on the passenger seat with the other babies, while I drive us to Skettiland."

Phil put the babies on the passenger seat, and started the van. The adults in the rear complained and cried, no doubt trampling and crushing each other. Phil ignored their cries of “owwies”, “Nu can mobe!” and “Weggies! Wowstest owwies in Weggies!”, as well as the sounds of at least a couple of fluffies getting it on, as the cries of “ENF ENF ENF!”, “Nu wan bad speciaw huggies!” and “Nu am MAWE!” were unmistakeable. The babies were in a much better mood, saying how much they loved the Snake Daddah, asking “How wong tiww Skettiwand?” and jabbering excitedly about “Sketties!” that they would never live to taste.

Phil put the van into gear and drove to the second warehouse, where his human audience, more importantly, his PAYING human audience, were waiting for the abuse show to begin. Just for his own amusement, he slammed on the brakes as he reached the warehouse, further crushing many of the adults, and sending the babies flying into the dashboard, breaking several legs in the process.

“OWWIIESS!” the babies cried. “Weggies! Weggies hab wowstest owwies!”

Phil looked down. Sacrifice’s legs had been smashed against the dashboard, and the once excited fluffy was now a jibbering mess of pain, bones protruding, tears streaming, and stinking of shit and piss as her joy turned into horror.

“Oh YOU STUPID FLUFFY!” he yelled at her, “NOW YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO GO TO SKETTYLAND!”

“Waaaa! Nu sketty wand? Nu!!!” the baby cried, feebly waving her smashed and broken legs in the air as she continued to piss herself in terror and agony.

“You should have sat NICELY in the seat. And now you’ve made BAD POOPIES! What does bad poopies mean?” Phil asked the crying fluff-pile of adult fluffies in the back of his van.

“It mean… nu Sketty wand Snake-Daddah!” said one fervent believer about three fluffies deep in the crush. “Bad babbeh!” it added, “Nu make mowe bad poopies ow fwuffies wiww nu gu to Skettywand!”

“BAD BABBEH!” the other fluffies added, even though many of them had crapped themselves in pain or fear as well. The baby, hearing the other fluffies all yelling at her that she was bad, only cried even harder.

“Sacwifice am sowwy… pwease Daddah, can gu Skettywand stiww? Wan weggie owwies to gu way!”

“Maybe you can go…” Phil said, smiling to himself.

Phil got out of the van, and his staff stared to unload the fluffies into large cages, so the audience could see them when the show began. Phil wanted to unload the fluffies with pitch forks, but they needed to die slowly, not quickly. Tonights audience was about one-hundred strong. Phil wished he could advertise the abuse shows online, but this activity was strictly illegal in Canada. Damn hugbox laws about animal rights. Even Jake had to say that the fluffies were being sold as “pets” rather than “live snake food”. Technically, one was only allowed to feed dead fluffies to snakes, but the cops seemed to be turning a blind eye. Thinking of the cops, Phil checked that his staff were fitting the radio transmitter collars to the ferals after the spaghetti feeding. His collar guy radiod back, saying that they had been fitted. That way, the g-man could track the ferals around Toronto.

Phil paused for a quick line of cocaine, rubbed his hands together, and walked out on to the stage, for the second time that night. A hundred people were paying a hundred dollars each. To see him.


“Dis am wewe da sketties awe!” said Scooby-guy, licking his lips in anticipation, “Scooby can smeww dem!”

Conan could smell the sketties too, anyfluffy could. Then they saw it, a tray of paper bowls, full to the brim with sketties.

Red Conan and Scooby-Guy gorged themselves on the food, wolfing down bowl after bowl. Conan had never tasted anything like it! Sketties were filling, and juicy, and meaty, and tomatoey. It was heaven in a dish. Red Conan began to understand why the other fluffies might love the Snake Daddy so much, but he shook that thought out of his mind quickly, they Snake Daddy was the worstest meanie, and must have an evil plan to be giving these sketties to fluffies.

Scooby-guy let out a loud burp.

“Uuurghhh… Scooby-guy num too much! Stiww, it gud to steaw da Snake-Daddah sketties, fwuffies am smawt!”

Just then, they were disturbed by some of the Snake-Daddy’s security guards.

“Hey! What are you fluffies doing back here! You’re not supposed to be here, the spaghetti is in the main hall!”

“WUN!” said Scooby-guy, so he and Conan did.

Fleeing for the second time that night, Red Conan and Scooby were going to leave, when they noticed something odd. A white Unicorn with a rainbow mane was running towards another warehouse, chasing after a large metal vroom monster.

“Babbehs!” she was yelling.

“Wets fowwow dat fwuffy!” yelled Conan, and they set off in pursuit, chasing her into the night.

A couple of minutes later, all the fluffies were out of breathe, having chased the vroom monster several hundred yards.

“Hu am yu fwuffies?” the Unicorn asked them.

“Fwuffy am cawwed Scooby-Guy, bestest nummy findew, and dis is toughie-fwiend WED COWNAN,” said Scooby, trying to impress the mare.

“Pwease, nice fwuffies, hewp Wainbow, da Snake Daddah hav taked da babbehs of da Wainbow-sista. Da Wainbow-sista fink dat dey gu to Skettywand, but Wainbow know dat nu twue! Wainbow hav seen da Snake Daddah huwt fwuffies! Badwy!”

“Dat is twue,” Red Conan said solemnly, “Wed Cownan hav seen da Snake Daddah huwt fwuffies too. Fwuffies wiww hewp Wainbow save da babbehs.”


“Oh do we have a show tonight ladies and gentlemen,” the Snake Daddah was saying to the audience as the fluffies crept into the room. All eyes were on the Snake Daddy, and the room was dark, save for the lights illuminating the stage. No-one could see three fluffy thieves sneaking in behind them.

“Here we have the fluffies, cowering in their cages, waiting to go to Skettyland…”

Red Conan crept forwards. The room had a pit in the middle, that smelled of barky-monster blood and piss. It must have been a fighting pit for barky-monsters, but now smelled of… a snake monster.

“…and here we have, specially flown in from Vancouver, Maximillian the Rock Python!”

The crowd gasped as the Snake Daddy pulled a tarpaulin from the pit, revealing a giant snake underneath. Several of the fluffies in the cage started to cry, scream and shit themselves with fear.

“Pwease Snake-Daddah, nu wike Snek-Munstah!”

“Jus wan skettywand daddah! Nu wike dis game!”

“Weggies! Weggies!” squeaked a baby.

The meanie humans just roared with laughter. Conan knew the their type. They were howling for blood, just as the humans that watched the pit-fighting used to do. There were other types here too though. Humans wearing fancy not-fluff, and in a dark corner, there was a man in a long trench coat, playing with his no-no stick.

“Whewe is da babbeh Wainbow?” Conan asked the pretty rainbow maned mare.

“It am dat babbeh! Wiv da huwty weggies!”

Conan felt bad.

“Wainbow, dat babbeh hav wowstest weggy owwies. It wiww go fowevew sweepies. Fwuffies cannot save it.”

“Nuuu! mus save sista-babbeh!”

“Wainbow, da Wainbow-sissie is a big dummeh! Fwuffies must teww ova fwuffies dat da Snake Daddah is a meanie! Dat he huwt fwuffies!”

“Nu! Ova fwuffies wiww stomp us wiv wowstest sowwy hoofies. Wainbow hav seen it happen befowe!”

Then, before Conan could say anything else, Rainbow ran towards the stage, trying to save her niece.

“CWOM!” Conan yelled, and chased after her.


“Now folks, which fluffy should we feed to Maximillian first? One of the babies? How about this pregnant mare?” Phil was saying in his best showman voice.

“Nuuuu! Nu am nummies fow Snake-Munstah! Nu wike dis game! Wan gu to Skettywand!” the pregnant fluffy howled.

Phil responded by hauling her out of the cage by the scruff of her neck, causing her to squeal in pain, yell “bad upsies!” and shit herself with fear.

“I’ve got something to tell you you shitty little fluffy,” Phil said to her, turning to face the audience and holding her aloft. “There IS no Skettyland. Its a LIE! I just told you that so I could give you worstest hurties and feed you to my snake!”

The crowd roared with laughter, and Phil pulled out a large knife.

“You want spaghetti? How about tummy-sketties?”

And in one swift motion, he sliced open the pregnant mare’s belly, spilling blood, intestines and half developed foals into the cold concrete floor below. The mare shrieked in agony, and Maximillian flicked his tongue in anticipation of a meal. Phil hurled the wailing fluffy into the snake pit, and the creature struck, sinking his fangs into her and wrapping his muscular body around the fluffy.

Then, from nowhere, a Rainbow maned Unicorn ran onto the stage, and put her nose into the cardboard box that Phil had put the baby fluffies into.

“Quick! Babbehs! Cwimb on fwuffies back! Fwuffies got to wun away fwom bad Snake Daddah!”

Phil looked down at her, seeing that she had picked up the baby he had named “Sacrifice” and was trying to save other fluffies as well. This was not part of the show, but if anything just made the abuse all the more satisfying. Phil laughed and kicked her into the snake pit.

“Gather round folks!” Phil told his audience, there’s plenty of fun to be had!"

Another fluffy ran into Phil’s shin, actually hurting him. It was another Unicorn, this one red and much bigger, and covered in tin cans. Phil laughed and kicked that fluffy into the pit as well, before emptying the box of babies into the pit after it, causing a pandemonium of fluffies and Snake, and a roar of approval from the audience. Phil couldn’t help notice that one man in a darkened corner was furiously masturbating.


Red Conan found himself in the snake pit. Rainbow was hurt, clutching the even worse hurt baby in her mouth. Baby fluffies were everywhere, running around in fear, or just sitting in their own shit and crying their little eyes out. The Snake had killed the pregnant mare, who’s blood and intenstines filled the air with a coppery tang, and now the snake was slithering, looking for its next meal. The crowd were baying for blood, and Conan knew it would not be his. The pits were his home, more than any snake monster’s.

Keeping one eye on the snake, Conan ran over to Rainbow. In the background, he could see the barky-monster door, the only way a fluffy could get out of the pit without a master or daddah to pick them up. He also saw Scooby-guy in the audience, hiding under a chair.

“Scooby! Open da dawww! Da DaaaaaW!” Conan yelled, hoping his friend would hear him and understand. Then, he turned to speak to Rainbow.

“Wainbow, we gotta wun… uurrkkk!!”

Conan gasped as the eighty pound snake pounced, trying to sink its fangs directly into his head. Fortunately, Conan’s Campbell’s soup can helmet and horn-blade got in the way, saving Conan’s heads from the creature’s fangs, and impaling the top of the snake’s mouth on the horn-blade. It still stunned Conan though.


(Original Art by Great White Nope)

“Ughghh… Dummeh Snek-Munstah!” yelled Conan, trying to shake his head lose. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rainbow, bravely spiking the snake monster with her horn. Then, the snake started to shake Conan. His whole world turned upside down as the massive monster shook him from one side to the next. Had it been a dog, it would have shook him properly, and broken his neck like a rag-doll, but the snake was in pain, and confused, and not a proper pit fighter like Conan. He kicked it with his metal shoes, losing one of the leg cans that was not properly strapped on. Still, the snake was far stronger than Conan, and for the first time in a long time, Conan was afraid he might die.

“Watch the Snake kill the fluffies folks! Its all part of the show!” the Snake Daddy was yelling at the audience.

Conan was feeling dizzy, and felt he was hurting. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rainbow, biting the snake’s tail, the Snake Daddy kicking other fluffies into the pit, and Scooby-Guy, who had opened the barky-mustah door, running in to help him. Then, the snake started to coil itself around Conan.

Clever Scooby, thought Conan, now him and Rainbow could get away, and maybe save the baby too. It was a shame that the Snake Monster was going to kill him. Now he’d never get revenge on the Snake Daddy. Conan’s world started to turn black.

“SOWWY POOPIES!” yelled Scooby-guy, releasing a torrent of liquid shit directly into the Snake’s eyes, splattering Conan a little at the same time. The Snake immediately released Conan from its coils and jaw, and rolled around trying to get the horrendous crap out of its eyes. Conan rallied, and took the opportunity to use his horn-blade to give the snake monster a killing blow, cutting its head from his body.

“Fwuffies!” Conan roared, “WUN!”

For the third time that evening, Red Conan and Scooby-Guy ran, this time accompanied by babies riding on the other fluffies backs, and a stampede of terrified chosen-fluffs, who took the opportunity to flee from their cage once the Snake Daddy had turned his back, leaving the door open.

A single fluffy would never have been able to escape that room. A hundred humans lay between them and the door, and most of the fluffies were caught, stomped or torn to pieces by the angry mob. But humans that tried to catch Conan got their fingers and hands sliced open by his horn-blade, or had chunks of flesh taken from their hands by his metal shark teeth. Scooby-guy was fast, skinny and smart, and used the other fluffies as bait, dodging left and right, letting stupid fat escaped domestics get caught, and then darting between legs and under chairs, until he found the exit. Rainbow was just plain lucky, fleeing with two babies on her back, and her crying niece in her mouth.

Red Conan’s growing herd fled from the building, nearing the exit and the alleyways that Scooby new so well. Then, blocking the doorway, was the strange man in the long trench coat, still frantically fapping his no-no stick and grinning at Conan, as if welcoming the challenge.

“It nu am funny!” yelled Conan, charging the man.

Foolishly, the man crouched, trying to scoop up Conan as the fluffy tried to run between his legs. With any other fluffy, it would have worked, but not with Conan. He flicked his horn-blade as he ran past, slicing open the man’s Balzac, severing his special lumps, and making him scream in agony.

The fluffies ran off into the night.


Next Episode of the Jellyverse Saga>>

Link to Index of Hornlarry Stories

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Nice! Good job Red Conan!

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Man this Phil isnt dead yet? Hope Conan would do that soon.

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The revenge saga has a few chapters left yet…

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EDIT - I have confused myself with the twisting labyrinthe of stories I have written - this IS part 3 of Red Conan and the Snake Daddy. Confusingly though, part 3 of the Snake Daddy stories (which precede these) is also called the Snake Cult. What can I say, he’s a daddy, and he likes snakes.

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