Shoe On The Other Foot, by Swindle

You’re Rob. You’re a fluffy abuser.

Right now, your current subject is Bitch, a brown feral stallion you caught in a snare out in the park.

When you found him, he was starving, suffered from fleas, ticks, and chiggers, and traumatized by repeated abuse from humans.

He’s not much better off now. He’s still starving, since you enjoy teasing him by placing food (especially spaghetti) in front of his cage where he can’t reach it, and you only give him the bare minimum to stay alive. The only time you fed him to the point that he wasn’t hungry anymore was when you gave him a high fiber meal and slipped some laxatives into his food, right before hanging him upside down from his tail. He ended up shitting all over himself repeatedly, then passing out from all the blood rushing to his head. Good times.

You cured the fleas, ticks, and chiggers, but only because you didn’t want them getting onto you.

As for trauma and repeated abuse… hoo boy.

You got tired of your previous victims, a mated pair you’d caught in your backyard a year ago, which is why you got Bitch as a replacement.

The mare you got rid of first. She’d given you endless entertainment; you’d force the stallion to knock her up, you’d give her a glimmer of hope throughout the pregnancy and tell her she could keep the babies if she was a good mummah, she’d give birth, nurse the foals for a while, you’d keep warning her to be a good mummah so she could keep her babies… then you’d start feeding her nothing but Foal-B-Gone, a specially formulated fluffy kibble that triggers hormones that put a stop to lactation. Inevitably, her udders would dry up and she would stop producing milk for her foals. Desperate to feed her babies, she would devour as much ‘nummies’ as possible so she could make milk, which just ended her lactation that much more effectively. She and the stallion would watch in horror as their babies slowly starved to death. You weren’t sure which was more traumatic to them, losing ‘chirpy babies’ or foals old enough to beg for milk and ask why their mummah didn’t love them, so you alternated between the two. You always made sure to drive home the point that her babies were dying because she was a bad mummah. In all, you managed to do that to them ten times before it lost its entertainment value.

The mare had, by this point, become so depressed and traumatized that she entered a ‘wan die’ loop, so you obliged by skinning her alive in front of her mate and the newcomer, dousing her bare flesh in alcohol, and lighting her on fire. You turned her tanned hide, with the fluff still on it, into a pillow and forced the two stallions to sleep on it. They were horrified, to say the least, but it was the only comfortable thing to sleep on and you were threatening more torture if they didn’t do it.

The stallion, who you never got around to naming, had also run out of entertainment value, having been thoroughly broken, so you forced him to rape Bitch in the ass several times (which is where you got the idea for his name), until Bitch simply got used to being forcibly sodomized and the novelty had worn off. The stallion, by now, was also used to being forced to rape things; the mare every time you needed her pregnant, the occasional ‘enfie babbeh’ to satisfy your abuse boner, and now Bitch. When he cried, pled, and raged at being forced to fuck things, it was fun. Now he just gives a lifeless, thousand-yard stare and humps away on command, no protest, no resistance, no tears, nothing. He’s dead inside.

So you ripped off the stallions dick and balls, force-fed them to Bitch, and took the stallion down to an illegal dog fighting ring and tossed him into the arena. He was torn apart and eaten alive by a pack of dogs before they all turned on each other, and the cheers from the audience suggested you might dispose of future fluffies like this.

But for now, you have Bitch to keep you entertained. You set him on the work bench and he blinks tears from his eyes as you direct the work lamp toward him so you can see better.

“Pwease, nu mowe huwties! Why du dis tu fwuffy? Fwuffy nu am bad, am gud fwuffy! Nu wan huwties! Why du dis?”

“Because you’re an inferior species, you’re stupid as hell, and as the bigger, stronger, smarter species I can do whatever the hell I want. And fuck you, that’s why.”

You’re busy hooking his testicles up to a car battery while he trembles in fear and anticipation, when the lights go out.

“Dammit, what the hell?”

You fumble around in the dark, then pull out your cell phone to try to light the place up. Your phone is dead too.

“The fuck?”

You feel around, giving yourself a nasty cut as you come across a razor blade you’d been using on Bitch’s hooves, then find your flashlight.

It’s dead too. This doesn’t make any fucking sense.

You manage to find your lighter though, and its dim, orange flame flickers and illuminates a small area of the basement. You walk to the other side of the basement and open the fuse box.

Hmm. None of the breakers are tripped. You flip all the switches and nothing happens. Damn. Maybe it’s a blackout.

You make your way to the basement stairs leading up to the yard, barking your shin on an old bench grinder you once used to slowly grind off a fluffy’s legs one at a time, from hoof to shoulder/hip, and open the storm cellar doors.

The full moon and stars are brighter than your lighter, which is getting uncomfortably hot anyway, and you douse the flame and look around. None of the neighbors seem to have power, and the street lights are all off. Looks like it really is a blackout after all.

Suddenly, something thumps against your leg and you look down in time to see Bitch sprinting for the tree line as fast as his stumpy, malnourished legs will carry him. Dammit! With his coloration and no light source, if he makes it into the woods you’ll never find him. And he might start warning other ferals about your traps; you have to catch him, if only because your pride dictates it.

No fluffy has ever escaped Stalag 13.

You give chase, and after tripping on something in the dark and faceplanting, you manage to catch up to the wheezing, sobbing fluffy and grab him by the tail.

“NUUUUUUUUU! WET FWUFFY GU! NU MOWE HUWTIES! WET GU! WET GUUUU! NUUUUUU!”

“You little asshole! You’re really gonna get it now!”

“NUUUUUUUUU!”

Suddenly, you’re blinded by a powerful, intense light stabbing down. You shade your watering eyes with one hand and squint; did the power come back on? Where is that light coming fro-

“OH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!”

You fly upwards into the sky, your panicked screaming drowning out Bitch’s panicked screaming, and everything goes blank.

When you wake up, you’re nude and strapped to a table. Wait, no- there’s no straps, but something is holding you down. Are you paralyzed? No, you can feel everything ok, and you can wiggle your fingers and toes, but you can’t sit up or move off the table. What the hell?

You look around and find yourself in a shiny room, shaped like two bowls set atop one another in a clamshell configuration, all smooth edges and jointless seams. It’s either white or silver, you can’t tell, and the room is illuminated by a sourceless light. Bitch is strapped to a smaller table nearby and is staring at the ceiling, crying silently.

There’s no sound or other cue that you’re consciously aware of, but you suddenly look to your right and see an open door where before there had been a blank wall with no seams, frame, or other evidence of a door.

“Oh, FUCK!”

It’s an alien. It’s a fucking alien. It’s about four feet tall, with smooth, gray skin, a big head, huge, black, almond-shaped eyes, a slit for a mouth, and no obvious ears or nose. It looks just like the movies.

This has to be a dream. You hit your head and passed out. Yeah, that’s it, none of this is real. SHIT!

The alien is standing over you, no discernable expression on his face, and begins running his fingers (two fingers and a thumb on each hand, long, narrow, and jointed differently than a human’s) down your face and around your head. Oh fuck, you can feel it, you can FEEL IT, this isn’t a dream, this is really happening, oh fuck…

Next, it fondles your genitals, examining them thoroughly and in minute detail, both by visual and physical examination. The feeling of being violated is overwhelming and you blush uncontrollably.

“HEY! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Let me go, asshole!”

The alien ignores you and continues to fondle you dispassionately. Then it runs its hands down your torso, paying particular attention to your nipples and navel.

“Are you listening to me? You deaf or something? I said let me go!”

It grabs something from a tray that you swear wasn’t there a second ago and holds it to your navel.

“You can’t do this to me! I have rights! Let me go! Let me go NOW!”

It moves its finger and suddenly you’re punched in the gut by so much pain it nearly makes you vomit.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHH!”

You pant and wheeze, seeing stars, oh shit it hurts it hurts it HURTS! You struggle against the invisible restraints, but you still can’t do much more than twitch.

Then it picks up another device and approaches your face.

“No, no! Get away from me! GET AWAY FROM ME! DON’T! NO! STOP! AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGH!”

The end of the device goes up your nose, you can HEAR something in your skull crunch, and then it withdraws the device. Blood trickles out both nostrils and you have a blinding headache. You sob, shaking your head, trying to will the pain away, and the alien does something and you levitate into the air a foot or so, then slowly rotate until you’re face down and laying on the table again. You see it grab a third, much larger, object from the tray and it positions it near your-

Oh, HELL NO!

“DON’T PROBE MY ASS! DON’T PROBE MY A-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!”

You spasm in agony and grit your teeth, straining to the point that all your muscles are hurting but you still! Can’t! Move!

“WHY?! Why are you doing this to me?!”

The alien finally responds to your vocalizations, bending down to look you in the eyes. Its mouth doesn’t move, you can’t hear any sound, but you can FEEL it speaking to you in your head.

“You are an inferior species. You are as low to us as the animals are to you. I have every right to do this.”

Then it stands up and does something you can’t quite see and you levitate again, rotate so you’re facing up, and settle back against the table.

“You will be vivisected once I have prepared this creature as well.”

You look over at Bitch as the alien begins examining him and the fluffy meets your eyes.

“Whu? Whu yoo wan, sympafy? Fugg yoo, asshowe!”

Then he cries and begs while the alien performs the same procedures to him that it did to you.

Finally, the alien approaches you again and runs a device down your torso, your skin somehow splitting open without bleeding, exposing your ribs, muscles, internal organs. It’s the worst pain you’ve ever experienced in your entire life.

All you can hear, as the alien begins removing your organs one by one, is Bitch laughing.

“YOU’RE NEXT, YOU FURRY LITTLE SHITRAT! YOU’RE NEXT!”

“Fwuffy know. Bu fwuffy ged tu see dem du yoo fuwst.”

34 Likes

The Humans Are Cthulhu trope certainly applies to fluffies quite often, but are we really the top of the food chain when it comes to this shit?

11 Likes

The fuck did I just read?

5 Likes

Oh goodness this was awesome. Glad Bitch got to enjoy some schedenfreud before the end.

1 Like

This is pretty awesome! I love the idea you went with.

1 Like

The food chain is attached to a sort of Cosmic Winch and it drags us screaming and naked into the blinding light of the endless sky

Loved this one, very nicely done. Reminded me of the pulp stories I used to read.

What is the pic
It looks mass effect but I can’t tell what’s going ob

Guard beating a prisoner in the prison ship Jack is on in ME2.