Robert loved autumn. It was easily his favorite season. The other seasons had their appeals too, with the blooming flowers of spring, the clear sunny days of summer, and the snowfall and holiday atmosphere of Winter. Yet, in terms of sheer beauty and coziness, autumn had them all beat. He loved seeing the leaves of the trees turn shades of yellow and red, loved to feel the slight crunch of the fallen ones under his shoes. He loved the cool autumn breeze, which gently whisked about the ends of his scarf. He loved bundling up in his long coat as he walked around town. He loved Halloween, he loved Thanksgiving, he loved the seasonal foods. He really loved autumn.
However, autumn did have a major downside. It was when the local feral Fluffy population reached its peak. Plentiful food during spring and summer led to ferals surviving at a relatively high rate, leading in turn to them breeding like crazy, with the local population as much as octupling from the start of the spring thaw until the first snowfall of next winter, when their population would begin to drop off precipitously.
Fluffies, being created by humans solely for life inside a human home, were almost wholly unsuited to survival outdoors. Their trademark fluff, despite its appearance, was not actually very good at keeping them warm or dry, since they did not possess an undercoat. Their hooves, leathery and soft, provided them the ability to dig in only the loosest of soils, and would quickly begin to painfully crack and wear should they walk too long on hard surfaces. Not that they would really get far anyways, since their top sprinting speed was equivalent to about an average personâs fast-walk, their limbs being far too stubby and weak to propel them any faster. Their teeth, notoriously soft and blunt, severely limited their options for food and defense. Moreover, fluffies were not really very clever creatures, despite what some of them believed. In some ways, they were smarter than most animals. They had to be in order to enable their somewhat limited capacity for speech. However, the deeply ingrained bio-programming which Hasbio had included when creating the chimeras left them with a set of instincts which were often not conducive to their survival. They possessed a childlike innocence, and an accompanying childlike cruelty. The most notable example of this was their tendency to mistreat the members of their species with duller, more earth-tone coats, regarding them as âpoopie,â despite the fact that they would be much more likely to survive in the wild compared to the neon eyesores often favored by fluffy mothers.
In autumn, the temperatures werenât so low that many of them would die off of exposure, since they were at least smart enough to huddle for warmth in their fluffpiles. There was still just enough food around for the population to merely plateau instead of plummet. The growing discomfort of being exposed to the elements combined with the fewer âgwassie nummiesâ and âweafie nummiesâ for them to eat made them become more desperate. This is when another one of their instincts, to find a human owner, kicked into overdrive. The fluffies, previously only asking humans to take them in when one crossed their path by happenstance, would now actively begin to seek humans out.
For the first couple autumns after fluffies first settled in the area, it seemed like you couldnât even walk a block without being accosted by several fluffies all begging for a ânyu mummahâ or ânyu daddehâ and complaining of âcowdiesâ and âtummie huwtiesâ in their ridiculous little high-pitched voices. They became an absolute nuisance. A sterilization and extermination initiative by the local government, as well as the actions of some good Samaritans, eventually got things down to a tolerable level. Still, you would be likely to come across at least one or two while out on an autumn walk.
Robert did not love fluffies. He did not love their gaudy, unnatural colors which clashed so harshly with the regular autumn tones. He did not love their stupid little tone-deaf songs which ruined the cozy atmosphere. He did not love their disgusting bowel movements, which they seemed to produce at an inexplicably high rate, and which they tended to leave in walking paths. He did not love the fact that they even existed at all. While not a particularly religious man, Robert couldnât help but feel like the little mistakes were an affront to God, or at least nature. They were a glaring example of manâs hubris, shortsightedness, and of science gone too far.
In fact, Robert hated fluffies. At first, he had felt sorry for the creatures. Visually speaking, they were kind of cute, and it wasnât really their fault for existing. However, after witnessing firsthand some of the less appealing aspects off their behavior, he now took it upon himself to dispose of any fluffies which he crossed paths with. He considered it a public service, and a way to make up for one of mankindâs greatest mistakes in his own small way.
One autumn day, Robert was out on a walk. Such walks used to be a matter of pure leisure for him, an opportunity to soak in the atmosphere of his favorite season. Yet, ever since the introduction of fluffies, these walks took on a second purpose: fluffy extermination. As such, he always came prepared with a collapsible baton and disposable gloves.
Normally, he would be very utilitarian with his fluffy kills, simply bashing their skulls in with the baton as quickly as he could. However, today he was in a sour mood, having stepped in a pile of fluffy shit while wearing his new boots. It got him thinking about better days, when life was simpler, and there were no fluffies around to ruin his walks. Now, he was feeling downright cruel.
He was walking by an alley when he saw a fluffy foal, neon orange in color, rooting around in some trash bags sat next to a dumpster. Robert mentally chided the person who was too lazy to properly place the bags in the dumpster, and slowly approached the foal. He knelt down right behind it, the foal not having noticed him yet, seemingly preoccupied with ineffectually trying to tear the bag open with its budding teeth.
âHello there.â he said, startling the foal. The orange fluffy jumped back a little, letting out a peep and a small squirt of urine. It looked up at him nervously, seemingly frozen in place. Robert smiled, and the foalâs fears seemed to relax a little. He briefly thought to himself that they were actually pretty cute when they werenât talking. If only Hasbio had made them a little dumber.
âWhat are you doing?â Robert asked.
âO-oh, hewwo nice mistuh. Babbeh am wookinâ foâ nummies. Mummah hab tummie huwties and onwy widdwe miwkies for babbehs, so bestesâ spwowinâ babbeh wook foâ moâ nummies so mummah can make bestesâ miwkies.â
Robert put on a look of faux-pity. âOh, is that so? Iâm sorry to hear you donât have enough food. Itâs good of you to look for more to help your family. You must be a very good fluffy.â
The foal beamed with pride. âYus! Bestesâ spwowinâ babbeh hewp famiwy! Am good fwuffie!â The foal paused, glanced over to the trash bag and then back to Robert, who looked on expectantly. âNice mistuh hewp babbeh get nummies fwom meanie bag?â
Robert chuckled slightly. âNo, no I wouldnât want to get trash everywhere.â Robert put on his disposable gloves. He then picked up the bags, opened the dumpster, and threw them inside.
The foal looked distressed, almost on the verge of tears. âNuuuu mistuh! Fwuffie famiwy neeâ dose nummies!â
Robert leaned down towards the foal again. âOh, you wouldnât want that garbage! How about I get you some better food? Iâll get enough for your whole family!â
The foalâs mood quickly turned around at Robertâs offer. âW-weawwy? Nice mistuh get wotsa nummies for fwuffies?â It looked up at him hopefully.
Robert smiled again, a cruel look in his eyes despite his smile, not that the foal could detect it. âOf course! Anything for good fluffies! ThoughâŚâ He paused and feigned to be in deep thought. âI suppose I donât know for sure that the rest of your family are good fluffies like you. How about you take me to them and I can make sure? Then I can bring you all lots of ânummies.ââ He cringed slightly at his usage of fluffy-speak. âMaybe if youâre really good fluffies, I can even be your new daddy!â
At this, the foal looked overwhelmed with joy. âWEAWWY!? NICE MISTUH BE NYU DADDEH FOâ WHOWE FAMIWY!? FWUFFIE HAB BIGGESâ HEAWT HAPPIES!â
âYes, and Iâll even get you all some spaghetti!â Robert continued.
The foal became even more excited. âSKETTIES!! BABBEH WUB SKETTIES!! BABBEH WUB NYU DADDEH!! BABBEH DO BESTESâ DANCIES FOâ NYU DADDEH!!â The foal got up on its hind legs and began to awkwardly bounce up and down, flailing its front legs around in the air as best it could, a big smile on its face.
Robert nodded. âMhm, yes, yes, thatâs right. But only if youâre all good fluffies! So, will you lead me to them?â In truth Robert didnât need the foal to lead him to his family. They were almost certainly just a little further in to the alley. A fluffy foal couldnât really travel very far after all. Robert just wanted the foal to know that it was responsible for what was going to befall its family at his hands.
The foal stopped dancing. âYus nyu daddeh! Famiwy dis way! Dey aww gud fwuffies! Bwuddas anâ sissies anâ mummah anâ daddeh am bestesâ fwuffies ebah!â The foal then began to make its way further into the alley, trotting along happily as it thought of the great future that awaited its family.
Robert followed just behind it, and soon enough he began to hear the distinct sound of high-pitched fluffy chatter coming from around a corner at the end of the alley. As he rounded the corner, he saw them.
In an old cardboard box turned on its side lay a fluffy mother, her orange fluff slightly duller than that of the foal which had led him here. Its red mane was dirty and knotted, as a feralâs typically was. At its crotch teats sat two foals, red and blue, who suckled greedily at them. Two more foals, purple and yellow, were running around in circles and periodically stopping to hug each other, giggling all the while. It seemed the father wasnât around at the moment, probably out looking for food.
After a very short time, the two foals at the crotch teats pulled away from them and began to complain.
âHuuhuu, why mummah onwy hab widdwe miwkies? Babbeh hab biggesâ tummie huwties. Neeâ miwkies to gwow up big anâ stwong,â the red one said. The blue foal didnât say much, but instead began to softly âHuuuhuuu.â Clearly, this was not a new state of affairs. Both the mother and all her children looked malnourished. The two foals that had been playing, purple and yellow, came over to see what was the matter. âWhaâ wong bwudda and sissie?â yellow asked. âMummah nu hab any moâ miwkies!â blue said, and began to cry again. Purple looked distressed. âBuh babbeh nu eben get any miwkies dis bwite time!â it said.
âHuuuhuuhuu, sowwy babbehs, mummah nu hab enuf nummies foâ make moâ miwkies fo babbehs. Maybe daddeh and bestesâ spwowinâ babbeh come back wif moâ nummies and den can make moâ miwkies,â the mother explained.
At this, all the foals began to huuhuuu softly to themselves.
It was then that the neon orange foal called out to its mother. âMummah! Bestesâ spwowinâ babbeh finâ nyu daddeh foâ famiwy!â The mother and foals turned to look at the foal and Robert approaching from down the alley.
As the pair drew closer, the family looked up at Robert with a mixture of nervousness and hopefulness, oddly silent for fluffies.
The mother broke the silence first, as the neon orange foal ran up and cuddled into her chest fluff. âH-hewwo nice mistah. N-nice mistah weawwy be nyu daddeh foâ famiwy? Gib nummies anâ homesies anâ toysies anâ safewoom?â
Robert leaned down and smiled as he had to the orange foal earlier. âYes.â
At this curt affirmation, the whole family broke into jubilation. The foals hugged each other. They hugged their mother. They danced around with smiles on their faces. The mother looked relieved, assured that the future of her children was now secure. They seemed like the happiest creatures on Earth.
âBUT,â Robert said, loudly enough to surprise the fluffies, eliciting some small peeps and squirts of bodily fluids. âONLY,â he continued even louder, pausing for dramatic effect while the fluffies stared at him with frightened looks. ââŚif you are all good fluffies,â he concluded, at a normal volume.
The fluffies seemed relieved at this. Of course they were good fluffies! They were the best fluffies ever! âOb couwse fwuffies am aww gud fwuffies nyu daddeh! Am bestesâ fwuffies foâ nyu daddeh!â the mother said.
âReally?â Robert asked. âThen you wouldnât mind me asking you a couple questions, taking a look at you all? Just to make sure.â Robert grinned, and that cruelty returned to his eyes, imperceptible to the fluffies. Their fate was already sealed. It had been since he saw that neon orange fuzzball trying to get into the trash bag. He was just toying with them, adding the spice of crushed hopes and betrayal to their forthcoming painful deaths.
âWhaâ daddeh mean?â the mother asked.
Robert took a moment to look around their home before responding. The cardboard box which provided their only shelter was looking the worse for wear, and would likely cave in at the next heavy rain. In the box was bits of newspaper and other trash, apparently placed there in an effort to make it a bit more comfortable. He saw a pile of feces a little ways down the alley next to an old metal trash can, apparently their designated shitting spot. No sign of a âpoopie babyâ though.
âThese all the foals youâve had?â Robert inquired.
âYus daddeh! Dese am aww ob mummahâs babbehs!â the mother replied proudly.
Robert squinted, then looked to the foals. âWhat about you, kiddos? You ever had any other brothers or sisters? Maybe brown or green in color?â
They seemed to think very briefly, but all gave negative answers. âNu daddeh, babbehs nebah hab any odda bwuddas ow sissies,â they variously said.
Robert thought that they seemed to be telling the truth. He had heard that you could tell if a fluffy was lying by whether it used its name or not, but these ferals didnât have names. Still, they called themselves âmummahâ and âbabbehsâ rather than âfluffieâ so maybe that was the same thing. Itâs not like litters without âpoopieâ foals were impossible, after all. Robert moved on.
He didnât see any pile of stored food, as expected. He looked over the foals, all somewhat dirty and malnourished. He noticed, however, that the neon orange âbestestâ was somewhat better fed and groomed than its siblings. Also to be expected, given fluffy tendencies.
âYouâre all pretty hungry, huh?â Robert said to the group, and received affirmative responses. He looked to the mother directly. âYour âbestestâ baby seems to be a little better fed than his siblings. Why is that?â He made an effort to sound genuinely curious instead of accusatory, trying not to scare her just yet.
She looked down at the ground with a sad look. âHuuhuu, mummah wan gib wotsa miwkies to aww hew babbehs, buh nu hab enuff nummies foâ make mowe miwkies. Mummah gib bestesâ spwowinâ babbeh mowe miwkies âcos he go wook foâ nummies foâ famiwy wike speshuw fwend.â
Robert was surprised, even a little impressed. She actually had a logical reason for giving the âbestestâ more milk, rather than just blatant favoritism. Still, sending a young child out to look for food was rather stupid. In fact, itâs what doomed them all.
âSpeaking of your âspecial friend,â where is he? Out looking for food?â
âYus daddeh, speshuw fwend wookinâ foâ nummies foâ famiwy.â
âYou think heâll be back anytime soon? Iâd hate to leave him behind.â
The mare seemed to think very hard for a moment, and then began to cry. âHuuhuu, mummah nu know. Speshuw fwend nu come back foâ many foebahs. Das why mummah wet bestesâ babbeh go wook foâ nummies. Nu wanâ to, but neeâ nummies. Huuhuuhuu.â
Robert considered this. Fluffies have a notoriously poor sense of the passage of time. âMany foebahsâ could really mean anything from a few minutes to a few days. However, the malnourished state of the mother and foals along with the motherâs apparent willingness to let her favored child wander off on his own made him lean towards thinking that the father really had been gone for a significant length of time. He could have just gotten lost, considering that fluffies also have a notoriously poor sense of direction. He also could have been injured. He also could have died. Whatever the case, he probably wasnât coming back. No need to wait to make sure he could dispose of all of them then.
âIâm sorry to hear that. But, I have good news. I have decided that you are all good fluffies!â Robert exclaimed with half-fake enthusiasm. This charade was getting a little tiresome.
The fluffies again became jubilant. They just couldnât wait to get off the street and into a nice warm house with delicious food and wonderful toys and everything else they could ever want. The foals approached Robert and hugged his new boots, leaving dirty smudges on them from their filthy fluff.
âTank yu daddeh! Wub nyu daddeh! Gib daddeh bestesâ huggies!â they said, but Robert was having none of it. He quickly pulled his boots away.
âDONâT YOU F-â he began, but stopped himself. He looked down. The fluffies were looking at him, very frightened. He composed himself. âUh, I mean, sorry little guys, but no huggies yet. I just need to do one more thing before I can take you home. I need to look you all over to make sure youâre healthy.â He said, doing his best to smile and sound calm and reassuring. âIs that okay with you, mummah?â He said, glancing at the mare.
She still looked a little nervous after his little outburst, but accepted. âO-otay nyu daddeh. Daddeh wook at mummah anâ babbehs to make suwe no hab sickies.â
âGreat!â Robert said. âIâll start with you then mummah!â He approached her, and gently picked her up, holding her out in front of him. Being malnourished, she was even lighter than normal.
âTeehee, wub upsies daddeh,â she said. Robert slowly turned her about in his hands, pretending to examine her closely. The foals looked on, growing more comfortable again after seeing Robert handle their mother so gently.
He carefully set her down. âLet me just make sure that all your legs are working well.â He firmly grasped one of her stubby legs below the knee. Quickly, he bent it 90° upwards at the joint in a direction that it was most definitely never meant to bend.
âTeehee, mummahâs weggies w-â The mareâs voice caught in her throat. Very suddenly, she was in more pain than she had ever thought possible. Before she even realized what was happening, Robert did the same with all 3 other legs.
Her eyes shot open in shock, and then the pain really hit her.
âSCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!â she screamed, running herself out of breath. She began to hyperventilate.
âSCREEEEE-gasp-EEEEEEEE-gasp-EEEEEEEEEE-gasp-EEEEEEE-gasp-EEEEEEEEEE-gasp-EEEEEEEEEEEE-gasp-EEEEEEEEE-gasp-EEEEEE-gasp-EEEEEEEEEEE!!!â
The foals all voided their bowels in fear, and instinctively grouped up into a huggie pile. They shivered, peeping and chirping up a storm, and periodically let out bits of whatever small amount of feces and urine was left in them.
âOh damn, your legs are all fucked up,â Robert said blankly.
The pain dulled just enough for the mare to draw a deeper breath. âEEEEEE-GASP-EEEEEEEEEHEEEHEEEHEEEEEEEEEHEEEEEEE!!! W-W-W-WEGGIEEEESSSSS!!! W-WAAIII WEGGIE HUWTIES!!! WOWSTESâ WEGGIEEE HUWTIES!!!â She looked to Robert. âDADDEHH, NEE HUGGIES FOâ MAKE WEGGIE HUWTIES BETTAH!! PWEASE! PWEE-HEE-HEE-HEEEEZZE!!â
Robert gave her a sad look. âIâm sorry mummah, but it looks like your legs donât work. Theyâre even hurting you, which means that youâre a bad fluffy after all! Bad fluffies donât get any huggies from daddy! Bad fluffies only get the worstest hurties!â
âW-WHAA!? N-NUU! NUUUU!! MUMMAH NU AM BAD FWUFFIE!!! MUMMAH GUD FWUFFIE!!! NEBBAH DO ANYFINâ BAD EBBAH!!! HUUHHUUUHUUHUUUU!! WHY MEANIE WEGGIES HUWT GUD FWUFFIE MUMMAH!??â Tears streamed down her face, and snot out of her nostrils. She was fully splayed out on her belly now, but her legs remained bent at those unnatural angles. She writhed about desperately, hoping beyond hope to get some relief from the pain.
âIâm sorry mummah, but some fluffies are just born bad.â Robert chuckled inwardly. That would be all fluffies. Vile little pests. He looked over to the pile of foals now. They were still bunched up trying to comfort one another, still peeping and chirping and wallowing in a puddle of scaredy poopies and peepies.
He gently picked the purple foal out of the pile, and held it in his palm. It wriggled around, upset to be away from its siblings. It chirped and peeped and cried with its eyes shut tight. Robert began to gently stroke the foalâs belly with his thumb. âThere there little guy. Itâs okay. Your mom might be a bad fluffy, but you can still be a good one.â
The foal slowly calmed down, and even began to coo slightly. It was evidently still stressed by the pained noises of its mother and the terrified peeping of its siblings, but was at least calm enough to speak now. âSniff Why mummah hab huwties, daddeh? Mummah am bad fwuffie?â
Robert responded in a soft and sympathetic tone. âYeah, sorry buddy, your mom turned out to be a bad fluffy, so her own legs gave her hurties. If she was a good fluffy, her legs wouldnât have done that.â
The foal was clearly distraught to hear this. âHuuhuu. Nu wanâ mummah be bad fwuffie. Nu wan mummah hab huwties fwom meanie weggies. Huuhuuhuuu.â
âYeah, sorry guy, nothinâ I can do. But, at least you can still be a good baby fluffy for daddy, right?â
âSniff Y-yus daddeh. Babbeh be gud fwuffie foâ daddeh.â It seemed a little frightened now, like it was starting to understand the true implications of being a bad fluffy.
Robert wondered what he should do with the foal for a moment, and then had an idea he liked. However, the foal was far too dirty to go through with it, being covered in splotches of piss and shit, most of which came from its siblings. So, he took the foal over to his mother, who was still writhing about in pain with tears streaming down her face.
âHey, snap snap, hey mummah.â He snapped his fingers in front of her face to get her attention. Her eyes were wide open in pain and moving around rapidly as if desperately seeking for some way out of her situation. She seemed to be having trouble focusing on anything but the excruciating feeling from her legs. âHelloooo, Earth to mummah! I think I know a way to make your legs stop giving you hurties,â Robert lied.
At this, the mummah snapped to focus on him. âW-WEAWWY? DADDEH MAKE WEGGIE HUWTIES GO âWAY? TANK YOU SO M-MUCHIES BESTESâ DADDEH,â she said, voice full of desperation and a slight tinge of hope.
âYep, I think that if you show your legs that youâre a good mom, they might stop giving your hurties. So how about you give this foal here a cleaning? It got really scared when you started screaming and got poop and pee all over itself,â Robert said, holding the purple foal up in front of her face.
The foal was terrified to see its mother in such a state and began to âhuuhuuuâ softly and shut its eyes again.
The mare seemed to compose herself just enough to comfort her child. âHuuhuuu, sowwy babbeh. Mummah nu mean to gib biggesâ scawedies. Mummah jusâ habbinâ wowstesâ weggie huwties. Mummah gib ou bestesâ wickie cweanies and show weggies dat amâ gud mummah.â She began to lick the foal while Robert held it up to her face with his gloved hand. He could tell the mare hated the taste, but kept going out of a mix of love for her child and desperation to alleviate her pain. The foal, meanwhile, was clearly enjoying the experience. After a thorough licking, Robert judged that it was clean enough for his purposes and pulled it away.
âYou like that little fella? Feeling better now?â Robert said while tickling the foalâs belly.
âTeehee, yus daddeh, babbeh wub wickie cweanies fwom mummah,â the foal said while wiggling its little legs around in the air joyfully.
âThatâs great bud, now I ca-â âDADDEH!? WEGGIES STIWW HAB HUWTIES!â the mare called out to Robert.
He turned to look at her, clearly a little annoyed. âUh, yeah, sorry. I guess your legs still think youâre a bad fluffy. Oh well.â
âHUUHUUU, PWEEEE-HEE-HEEEE-HEEEEEEEZE WEGGIES, MUMMAH AM GUD FWUFFIE. PWEEZE NU MOWE HUWTIES. MUMMAH CAN NU TAKE NU MOWE! HUUHUUUHUU,â she continued lamenting her situation.
Robert ignored her and looked back to the foal. âAnyway, now I can do a little test to make sure youâre a good fluffy unlike your mom.â
âO-Otay daddeh, what am tesâ?â the foal asked, now physically comfortable but unsettled again by the sounds of its mother.
Robert smiled, then used his free hand to take off his wool scarf. He held up the middle of it in his palm, and placed the foal in the center. The foal nestled into it. âWub wawmsies. Tank ouâ daddeh.â
Robert carefully used his now free other hand to grab up the two ends of the scarf, and pulled them up while slowly letting the foal-laden center downwards. He let the center go, and then was holding the two ends of the scarf while the foal hanged some distance below in the center, swinging slightly to and fro.
At this point the foal was still enjoying the experience. âTeeheehee, wub wawmsie upsies!â
Robert then began to slowly swing the foal back and forth, the swings getting wider and wider.
âD-Daddeh! Scaawy! Babbeh nu wike dese upsies nu mowe!â
Robert quickly sped up the swinging, transferring from back and forth to all the way around while holding the scarf over his head. âSCREEEEEEEEEEEE, DADDEH PWEEZE DESE UPSIES AM BAD UPSIES FOâ BABBEH!! SCAAWY!! PWEEZE NU MOWE!! WET BABBEH OUT!!â
Robert swung the scarf around as fast as he could, like it was a sling and the foal was the shot. âSCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!â the foal screamed as it spun around and around.
Robert figured he had gotten it to maximum speed, and then let one end of the scarf go. The purple foal went flying, a blur through the air, and immediately smacked directly into the brick wall of the alley only a short distance away. It stopped screaming upon impact. The foalâs body stuck very briefly to the wall, and then fell to the ground. It was partially flattened and totally mangled, with bones sticking out all over and blood oozing out of every hole. However, it didnât quite die instantly.
The foal made little garbled noises as it lived its last few moments in utter agony. âHrrrck-hurrcckckkâ it said, and then it died.
Robert smiled. It felt good to indulge his cruel streak. Maybe he should do this more often. He put his scarf on again, loosely though so as to make sure it didnât touch his face.
The other four foals were still bunched up in their little huggie pile, crying and peeping and chirping with their eyes all closed.
The mare, on the other hand, had watched the foal die. âNUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!! BAAAABBEEEEEEEEEEHHHH!!! NU TAKE FOWEBAH SWEEPIES BABBEH!! MUMMAH GIB HUGGIES TO MAKE HUWTIES BETTAH!!!â She then tried to drag herself over to the corpse of her child with her badly broken legs, but apparently the pain was too much, and she stopped before even getting a tenth of the way towards it. âHUUHHUUHUUU, SOWWIE BABBEH, MUMMAH WEGGIES NU WET MUMMAH GIB HUGGIES! MUMMAH AM WOWSTESâ MUMMAH EBAH!! HUUHUUUUHUU.â
After crying a little longer, she looked straight at Robert, now clearly angry and confused. âWHY DADDEH GIB WIDDWE BABBEH BAD UPSIES!? BABBEH TAKE FOWEBAH SWEEPIES NAO!! HUUHUUUHUUHUU.â
âUhhhh,â Robert thought about it for moment. Honestly, he was shocked she hadnât realized that he was the cause of her broken legs. He guessed the promises of a comfortable home and good food was enough to gain her trust very quickly. Also, fluffies are very stupid creatures. But how was he going to explain the reason for pretty blatantly killing her foal? He thought about making up some nonsense about the scarf being able to tell that the foal was a âbad babbehâ and launching the foal into the wall on its own, but then decided to just drop the act.
âWell, I wanted to. I killed him on purpose. Iâm here to kill you and your entire family, actually,â Robert said, and smiled wickedly at the mare.
She froze at this, and stared at Robert. Her writhing in pain was replaced with shivering in fear.
âN-nu. Nuu. D-daddeh am munstah? NUUU! NEE WUN WAY!! NEE WUN!!â She then tried as hard as she could to drag herself away, but again made almost no headway. She called out to her foals. âBABBEHS! WUN WAY BABBEHS!! NEE WUN NAO!! DADDEH AM MUNSTAH!! GIB OU FOWEBAH SWEEPIES!! BABBEHS!!â
The foals, who had up to that point still been huddled together in their huggie pile, took notice of their motherâs cries. They briefly looked at Robert in terror, and then began to run away as fast as they could, which was roughly at a humanâs leisurely walking pace.
âNope,â Robert said, while walking towards them quickly. âCâmere ya little bastards.â He picked up the foals in his hands, two in each as they weakly wriggled about and cried, then placed them atop the lid of the nearby trash can, which was tall enough that the foals could not fall off without at least seriously hurting themselves.
Once atop the trash can, the foals briefly looked around and realized there was no safe way to get down. This realization affected each of the foals in different ways. The blue and red foals broke down and started crying, then joined together in a hug to comfort each other. The yellow foal began to panic, scrambling around the lid of the trash can and running from end to end, seemingly unable to accept that it was stuck up there and desperate to get away from Robert. The orange foal sat in place, shaking in terror, and stared at Robert. It looked distraught and betrayed, and then it spoke.
âWAI MUNSTAH DADDEH HUWT FWUFFIES!? FWUFFIES AM GUD FWUFFIES! PWEEZ NU MOWE HUWTIES! NU WAN! NU WAN FOWEBA SWEEPIES! JUSâ WANâ BE BESTESâ FWUFFIES FOâ DADDEH! SOWWIE DADDEH! SU SOWWIE! NU KNO WHA FWUFFIES DO WONG BUâ NEBAH DO ID AGAIN!â It pled with Robert to spare he and his family.
Robert was about to respond, but then he heard something coming from down the alley. It was another fluffy, an adult. It was sky blue in color and walking backwards towards the group while dragging half of a pepperoni pizza with its mouth. The orange foal saw it first. âFWUFFIE DADDEH!â it called out.
âIâll be damnedâŚâ Robert said, genuinely surpised, and turned to look at the approaching stallion.
The stallion dropped the pizza and turned around to face the group. âFamiwie! Daddeh find numm-â he began, but stopped when he saw the state of things. His special friend laid on the ground crying in pain, legs bent all wrong. His purple foal was mangled and in a pool of blood, clearly dead. The rest of his foals were atop a trash can, crying and panicking, while Robert stood next to them in his long coat and scarf.
âFWUFFIE DADDEH! HEWP! MUNSTAH HUWT MUMMAH AND BABBEHS!â the orange foal called out to its father, a little bit of hope back in its eyes now.
The stallion, now apprehending the situation, quickly became angry. âMUNSTAH NU HUWT SPESHUW FWEND ANâ BABBEHS! GIB OU WOWSTESâ HUWTIES ANâ FOWEBAH SWEEPIES!!â it said, and began to sprint at Robert with its head lowered. Apparently, it intended to head butt him.
Robert looked down at the slowly approaching fluffy, and realized he was quickly running out of patience for this whole situation. The stallion wasnât actually watching where he was going, his head lowered and eyes closed bracing for the impact. So, Robert stepped to the right, waited until the stallion was alongside him, and swiftly kicked him in the side. The stallion was launched into the air and collided with the brick wall like his purple foal before him. Of course, he wasnât nearly so injured as his foal had been, but his breath was knocked out of him and he had a couple broken ribs.
The stallion laid on its side now, trying to express the pain it was in, but no words would come out, and he couldnât draw in a breath. Almost instantly, the anger he had felt towards Robert turned to terror. Robert stepped over to him and drew his extandable baton. The stallion managed to recover its breath, deeply inhaled, and said âPWEE-â just as Robert crushed his skull in with the baton.
Robert had decided to kill him quickly, both because he wanted to speed things along and because he honestly respected the stallion a little for actually managing to bring back some food for his family. He thought to himself that if the mare had just been a little more patient and hadnât let her orange foal go looking for food, theyâd probably all be happily gorging themselves on pepperoni pizza right now instead of being massacred.
The orange foal, having watched his father get his skull caved in, now sat in stunned silence and shook in fear.
âSPESHUW FWEND!!! NUUUUUHUUUHUUUHUUUU!!â cried out the mare. She laid there crying as before, but now she had even less hope and even more desperation. âBABBEHS!! BABBEHS WUN WAY NAO!! PWEEZE WUN!! MUNSTAH GIB OU FOWEBAH SWEEPIES!!â
The yellow foal, who had still been scrambling about the lid of the trash can in a panic this whole time, became even more panicked at this. His fear and desperation became so much that he was now literally driven over the edge. He tripped and slipped off the lid of the trash can, falling the short distance to the ground. Several of his bones were broken by the fall, and he was rendered completely immobile.
âEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!â it screamed. It was in too much pain to form words, and lay there hyperventilating, screaming, and crying.
âAwwww, look what you did. Poor little guy. Câmere,â Robert said, putting his baton away and scooping up the yellow foal. It began to scream even louder, its pain intensified by being moved.
The mare looked wide-eyed at Robert walking over with the yellow foal. âPWEEZE!! PWEEZE NU HUWT BABBEH!!â she begged.
âOh, I havenât hurt him. He fell off that trash can himself, probably because of your annoying screaming. Anyways, maybe you can help him. Give him a hug.â Robert leaned down and placed the yellow foal down in front of the mare. It was still in great pain but seemed to calm down a bit at its motherâs presence.
The mare put on a brave face for her child. âI-it otay babbeh. Mummah gib ouâ huggies and make huwties aww bettah.â She then tried to hug her child, but was unable to make her legs obey. She struggled for a bit, beginning to cry more and more as she intensifed her pain and frustration through her efforts. âHuuuhuuuuu. PWEASE WEGGIES! NEEâ GIB BABBEH HUGGIES!â
The yellow foalâs cries of pain began to intensify again as its mother shouted right next to it.
âHUUUHUUUU! SOWWIE BABBEH! AM WOWSTES MUMMAH EBAH! HUUHUUHUUU!â the mare cried.
Robert smiled a little at the pathetic sight. âHere, let me help you with that.â He roughly grasped the mareâs right front leg just above the hoof, then quickly pulled it forward. The mareâs leg straightened again, as whatever muscle or tendon had been holding it in the previous unnaturally bent position snapped completely.
The mareâs mouth widened in a silent scream, her eyes rolling back in her head. Feces shot out behind her as her whole body contracted in pain. Before she could faint, however, Robert took her now limp leg and brought the hoof down on the yellow foal, crushing it to death. Whatever mental werewithal the mare had left managed to convey to her that her own hoof had just crushed her own foal. With this realization, she fell into unconsciousness.
âOh no, you killed it! I guess you really are a bad mother,â Robert taunted, but then realized the mare was out cold. âAh, lucky you,â he said.
He walked over to the three remaining foals on the trash can. The orange foal, still frozen in fear, quietly begged for mercy. âp-pweeze. pweeze nu huwt babbehs. babbehs am gud babbehs. nebah do nuffin wong. onwy wan wub an huggies. owny wan nummies and homesies. nu kno whaâ do wong buâ nebah do id again. p-pwomise.â
Robert didnât respond to the orange foal. Instead, he reached over and picked up the blue and red foals, who at this point were still crying and hugging one another for comfort. The two foals began peeping and chirping rapidly, weakly wriggling about in Robertâs grip as he held them in each hand.
He held them up in front of the orange foal. âThese two sure like hugging, huh?â
The orange foal shook with fear. âp-pwee no huwt bwuddah and sissieâ it said, quietly.
Robert grinned. âIâm not gonna hurt them! Iâm just gonna help them hug each other better.â He opened his grip, holding his palms up flat. The foals, now free to move, quickly came together and began hugging again. Robert let them do so for a short time, and the two calmed down a bit. The orange foal, however, still shook in fear and stared at his siblings with eyes wide open. Robert stared directly into the orange foalâs eyes, still smiling. Slowly, Robert angled his palms up into an increasingly tighter V shape. The hugging foals at first found the closing hands comforting, as Robertâs hand were warm. However, as the two were pushed together more tightly, they quickly grew very uncomfortable. The pair again began peeping and chirping slowly at first, then rapidly, squirming around trying to get more space. Robertâs hands did not yield a bit.
The orange foal began to regain some spirit, now witnessing his only remaining siblings in mortal peril. âP-pweeze daddeh! Daddeh huggies am too tight! Huwtinâ bwuddah an sissie! Nu huwt, PWEEZE!â
By now, Robertâs hands were basically parallel, with only the foalsâ heads sticking up above them. He started to push his hands together. The foals quickly began to have trouble breathing and gasped for air. The chirping and peeping grew much quieter and more strained, but the squirming intensified. Their bowels were forcefully evacuated. They were far past the point of discomfort, now being in terrible pain.
âPWEEZE DADDEH, BWUDDAH ANâ SISSIE TAKE FOWEBAH SWEEPIES IF NU STOP BAâ HUGGIES! BABBEH WUB BWUDDAH ANâ SISSIE!â
Robert could hear little crackling noises. The foalsâ bones were beginning to break. The two could no longer vocalize, as their lungs were practically empty and far too tightly compressed to draw breath again. The remaining energy in their little bodies went solely to wriggling with all their might, which accomplished nothing but inflicting even greater pain on one another as their bodies were mushed into one. Tears streamed down their face and pupils shot around in random directions, their eyes wide open in panic and fear, their mouths wide open in silent screams as they experienced the most agonizing pain they had ever felt.
The orange foal was fully screaming and sobbing now, and plead with Robert one final time. âPWEE-HEE-HEEEZE DADDEH!! WUB BWUDDAH ANâ SISSIE!! NU WAN TAKE FOWEBAH SWEEPIES! NEEâ BWUDDAH ANâ SISSIE!!â
The paltry resistance the foalsâ bodies had offered to Robertâs crushing hands now completely gave way. Their rib cages collapsed. Their vital organs soon followed. The foalsâ pupils rolled back in agony one last time, and then they went still. Robert let what was left of them fall to the ground.
âNUUUUUUUUU!! BWUDDAH ANâ SISSIE TAKE FOWEBAH SWEEPIES!! NUUUU-HUUU-HUUUUUU!! WAI MUNSTAH DADDEH GIB BABBEHS FOWEBAH SWEEPIES!!?? BIGGESâ HEAWT HUWTIES!! BIGGESâ SADDIES!! BABBEH NU HAB BWUDDAHS AN SISSIES NU MOWE!! AM AWW AWONE!!â
The last foal had fully broken down now. It sat on it side sobbing and screaming in grief on the lid of the trash can. Robert took a moment to simply watch it, relishing the feelings. Then, Robert gently picked up the foal and held its little face right up in front of his own. He stared it right in the eyes with a blank expression. The last foalâs loud crying turned to quiet weeping, as it looked in fear at the face of the monster that had just killed its entire family.
âAll fluffies are vermin, shitrat. You all deserve to die. There isnât a single goddamned one of you that is worthy of mercy or love or happiness. I kill every fluffy that I come across.â Robert smiled.
âAnd you know, if it hadnât been for you, I would have never found you all. You were looking for food by those trash bags. You wanted me to be your new daddy. You led me right to your family. You sealed their fates.â
The orange foal now went completely quiet as it comprehended what Robert was saying. Its mind raced, trying to find some solace, but it found none. Its entire family had been killed by a monster because of him, and now that monster was going to kill him too. Then, as if something in the foal suddenly snapped, its expression went blank, and it began to speak.
âw-wan die. wan die. wan die. wan die. wan die.â
Robert grinned. He had heard of the âwan dieâ loop but had never witnessed it, much less induced it himself. He had always been so quick with his fluffy kills. Maybe that would change now.
He tried poking the foal a little. No response. He tried pinching it, hard, but still no response. The foal just looked straight forward and kept saying that it wanted to die. Robert was a little dissapointed that he wouldnât be able to inflict any physical pain on the foal, but was contented by the mental torture that the foal had experienced and might still be experiencing.
âSCRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! BABBEH NUUUUUUUUU!!â cried out the mare, who had just regained consciousness. Robert turned around to see the mare awake and crying again. She was in a mixture of terrible pain from her dislocated legs and terrible grief from the deaths of her mate and children. In particular, she was grieving over the remains of the yellow foal which Robert had crushed to death using her hoof. She stared down at its crushed little body.
âHey, donât worry mommah, you still have one baby left! Here.â He leaned over and held up the orange foal in front of her briefly. Before she could really ascertain what was wrong with it, Robert acted.
He grabbed her mouth roughly, holding it open with one hand and then shoving the orange foal down her throat with the other. He put it in ass first, so that it would still be able to breath. The mare tried to scream and then to breathe, but the sound and flow of air were stopped by the obstruction in her throat. She writhed around, but itâs unlikely she would have been able to get the foal out even if she still had working legs.
Robert looked down at her as she suffocated. He was satisfied with his work, but also a little glad that it was done with. This kind of thing was fun, but a little tiring. Maybe thenceforth he would only draw things out like this with particularly bad fluffies. As he was thinking it over, the mare finally expired. She had lasted about a minute. From inside the mare, Robert could still just barely hear the orange foal steadily repeating its final message.
âwan die. wan die. wan die. wan die.â
Robert smiled, and began to walk away. Unfortunately for him, he accidentally stepped into the near-liquid feces which the mare had expelled when he pulled her leg straight. Anger quickly boiled up in him.
âOH, GODDAMNIT!â he shouted. He whipped around to face the fluffies again. Looking over the scene of death and suffering which he had caused, his anger rapidly melted away.
The mareâs body laid on its belly just in front of the cardboard box, three of four legs still bent at unnatural angles, while her fourth hung limply with its blood-stained hoof. The crushed remains of the yellow foal were immediately before her, while the orange foal was still âaliveâ inside her throat. The purple foalâs flattened corpse laid just to the left of the box, a blood splotch a few feet above it on the brick wall. The mixed remnants of the blue and red foal sat right next to the trash can. The brave stallionâs body with its skull caved in was a few feet away down the alley.
Robert didnât feel like cleaning up. He figured their bodies would be found by scavenging animals soon enough, and they and the pepperoni pizza would be eaten.
He removed his gloves carefully, and put them in the trash can. He walked over to the stallionâs corpse and wiped off most of the shit into its fluff. His boots would need a thorough cleaning.
âI should proably get some shoe covers for this kind of thing,â he said, then walked back out of the alley to continue his walk.
He shoved his hand in his long coatâs pockets as he walked down the sidewalk. His scarf, now loose on his shoulders, whisked about gently in the breeze. His dirtied boots crunched the many-colored leaves under his feet.
Hello! This is my first contribution to the site. I hope you like it. I felt kind of indebted to the folks who make such good content here and wanted to give back. After a couple of abortive attempts at drawing fluffies, I decided to write a story instead. Art is hard!
Anyway, I appreciate any criticisms you might have. This is the first work of fiction Iâve written since probably middle school, so Iâm sure itâs got flaws. I donât know if Iâll write anything else, but maybe I will if Iâm feeling creative again. If I do, itâll probably be somewhat shorter.
Thanks for taking the time to read my story!