THANKSGIVING SPECIAL (LATE)
Stompie’s set was decorated a bit in fall leaf wreaths with live fluffies pinned on them. There was also a fluffy with paper feathers meant to resemble a child’s turkey tail pinned on it in a cage in the back. Stompie skipped on screen, giving her usual twirl. “Hello, my stompers! I’d say Happy Thanksgiving…but I’ve recently learned that’s offensive to some, and I still want to be sponsored. So…happy PAINSgiving!” She announced. Stompie gave the cage a little shake as she lifted it. “This is a fun activity you can do at home! Instead of using your hand for a turkey shape, we just use a fluffy. Or a foal. So lets start with a new one to walk you through this fun game!”
Stompie tossed the cage away offscreen, a literal toss which resulted in a “SCREEEE!” Then a fainter “Owies…wan die….”
The streamer reached under her beloved table, putting some colored scraps of paper on the table, a pair of scissors, and some nails. The paper was already in feather shapes, the edges cut into fringes. “I did some pre cutting before, Stompers. You came to see me cut fluffies, not paper. Just know you’ll need them to cut paper like this. And use nice fall colors like red, orange, yellow, and brown. And make sure to account for the size of your fluffy” Stompie then got out two fluffies. One large adult brown fluffy, and a dull orange foal.
“Now…these fluffies have been generously donated for misbehavior. Brownie here, renamed Sh-tstain was rescued from a life of abuse…but got a little too big for her britches. She bullied her siblings after her owner tried to give her an ego boost. She even killed her sister’s foals!”
“Su? Sissy haf ugwy babbehs! Shisain pwettiest fwuffy eva! Mummah say su!”
“Quiet, sh-trat. I’m still monologuing.” She smirked. “Or you’ll be the ‘main event’. You saw me practicing earlier on another fluffy.”
The brown fluffy’s pupils shrank to pinpricks of fear. “N-nu wan be ‘main vent’…” she shook.
“Good. So be quiet.” Stompie roughly patted the fluffy’s head, but decided to strap her down and duct tape her mouth. “Now…for our foal here. His colors are okay. A pretty orange…but he’s a little glutton.” She said. “He went as far as to steal milk from his siblings, then when he was weaned…he stole food right out of their bowls! Once he ate so much that he couldn’t even move! He sprayed shit in what he couldn’t eat so nobody else could. I starved him a few days so his legs could touch the floor again. Great weight loss strategy.” A quick disclaimer popped up on the screen telling viewers that the statement was a joke and not meant to be taken as serious weight loss advice.
“B…babbeh was hungwy…” he sniffled.
“No you weren’t. You’re just a fatass.” Stompie told him, giving him a flick in the nose.
“Owies! Wai huwt-“ the babbeh was cut off by Stompie pinching his snout shut. “Foals never shut up. If you don’t like the whining, or you have annoying a-s neighbors that don’t like the sound of fluffy screams, you can use one of the nails for that!” Stompie grabbed one of the long, sharp nails and shoved it right through the fluffy snout from the top! The fluffy foal tried to scream, but a very muffled sound came from his now sealed together lips.
Stompie grinned to the camera. “Back to the crafting. Now…arrange the paper feathers how you like. Color, size, however you want. I’ll start with the smaller feathers and the foal. Make sure they’re big enough to be visible, but not too big that they’ll keep falling backwards. I learned that the hard way.” She claimed.
She used a nail to pin the paper in one end, then fanned out the paper leaves. She turned the foal around so everyone could see his back end. “There’s a couple places you can stick it. Since this little one is a colt…” Stompie’s grin turned evil and she stuck the nail through his little fluffy balls before the nail slid into him.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” The fluffy’s scree broke through even the nail in it’s snout.
“Some pain can get though anything, I suppose.” She shrugged, and flicked the fluffy’s sensitive ear. “Now, we’ve got a tiny turkey fluff!” She clapped her hands happily. “I should duct tape him to the fridge! Or maybe make him eat a magnet and stick him to it!” She looked over him, and then got an evil grin. “I think I do have magnets.” She mused, and looked under the table in her box of stuff, metal clanging and plastic rattling. Stompie finally popped up with a host of magnets. “We can play with these after. First I gotta make a foal swallow them. Stompie got a manageable magnet, about the size of a large pill. “This ought to do it.” She grabbed the foal. “Open wide~.”
The foal shook his head fearfully, trying to shrink away.
“Oh, silly me. I forgot the nail!” Stompie yanked it all the way through the foal.
“SCREEEEEEEE! OWIES!” The foal screamed, only to then have a magnet jammed into his snout and throat. “GHHKKK!”
“Better swallow that if you don’t want to choke and go forever sleepies!” Stompie watched the foal flailing his little legs. When he started to run out of air, Stompie rolled her eyes. “Gotta do everything yourself, you know?” With a finger, she pushed the manger down the fluffy’s throat, then massaged the outside until the magnet was pushed into his belly.
“Huuuhuuu…” the foal sobbed. “Tummeh owies…”
“Lets see if it works!” Stompie then stuck the foal to the side of her table, and let go…only for the foal to stay! “YES!” Stompie cheered. “Oh, I’m so happy it worked! Now, I have no clue if it’ll work on adult fluffies. I think you’d have to play doctor and sew them in…but that’s a different episode.”
Stompie pulled out a random foal, this one red with a brown mane. “Hm…I think this one was from an alleyway. Abandoned for looking like ‘boo boo juice’. A kind, somewhat naive Samaritan took him in and spoiled him…and he tried to kill her hamster. Luckily the hamster is fine. He just developed an understandable hatred towards the things. Same with his previous owner.” She grinned. “And now he gets to play with me!”
“Pway?” The foal looked up, seeming to not understand he won’t like this kind of playing.
“Yes! We’re gonna play with magnet friends!” Stompie put the foal down, and got some magnets out. She placed a cluster of them in front of the foal, and two larger ones were closer to the foal on either side. Like an arrow pointing away from the foal. A triangle of death.
“Maget fwiends?” The foal toddled for the main cluster. Stompie was holding onto the two large magnets. As soon as the foal was between them, she released them. The magnets were only about eight inches apart, but were pulling strong at each other. They slammed shut over the foal’s rear and back legs, crushing them.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” The foal screamed, trying to pull away, the magnets too heavy. “WAI FWIENDS HUWT BABBEH?!”
“They’re not your friends, fluffy. They’re mine.” Stompie said with an evil grin. She removed the magnets, now dripping with gore, and a bit of fluffy shit. “Let’s play with more magnets! Smaller ones!”
“Nuuuu! Nu wan pway dis game!” The foal was trying to drag himself away with his weak front leggies. “Weggies! Pwease take fwuffy way fwom hewe!”
“Why would you want to do that? We’re having so much fun!” Stompie took the magnets and let two smaller ones attract each other over the fluffy’s delicate front left leg.
“SCREEEE! Nu mowe owies! Babbeh nu kno wat du, bu pwomise be gud! Babbeh be gud!” The foal begged, unknowingly crawling over a magnet.
“Hmmm….” Stompie pretended to think on it. “Nah.” She decided, and dropped a magnet right on him, the magnets crushing him between the force of attraction.
The foal’s guts spewed from either end, the foal twitching until it died.
Stompie sighed happily, then titled her head. “I think I’m forgetting something…” Her eyes roved around until they landed on the adult fluffy. “Ah, right. Foal killer here.” She unstrapped her, and ripped the tape off while dragging her over. “Now we get to do the adult version of it! It’s much like the foal version, but bigger paper tails. Plus they’re more resilient. You can have them waddle around the apartment or house for entertainment during the holidays.” A quick disclaimer popped up at the bottom of the screen advising viewers to do this only to fluffies they owned or captured, and Stompie’s Streamies were not responsible for legal trouble from viewers who try to do this to family member’s fluffies.
Stompie pinned the feathers together. “Now…an important, and overlooked detail is to dock the tail. It just gets in the way…and causes the fluffy more distress when their shit collector is gone.” Stompie took out a large, very loved cleaver with googly eyes. “Here’s Cleavy! She’s excited to get some use again!” She said happily. She grabbed the puke green colored tail, and chopped through it close to the base.
“NUUUUHUUUHUUU! PWETTY TAIW! WAI TAIW GU BYE?”
“Your tail was ugly. And it couldn’t stand to be attached to such a bad fluffy. So I took it. Fluffies as BAD and UGLY as you don’t deserve tails!” Stompie took joy in the fluffy sobbing over her lost tail, too fat to curl to the side to get her tail.
Stompie then pinned the tail to the mare, the nail going deep into her anus.
“SCREEEEEEE! NU HUWT POOPIE PWACE!” The mare screamed, flailing uselessly.
“Oh? What are you gonna do about it? Try to stop me?” She slapped the mare across the face. “Then do it. Stop me.” She challenged the fluffy.
The mare huffed, and turned as quick as she could. “Take sowwy poopies!” What the mare did not know…she’d been emptied beforehand, meaning no more poop. All that escaped around the nail was a whisper of a fart, and pained herself with the nail’s sharp point scraping her intestines. “Wha?” She turned, her eyes growing fearful to see Stompie was not covered or dirtied at all.
“Is that all? My turn.” Stompie grinned maliciously, and set the fluffy on the ground. “Try to run. Or I’ll stomp you.”
Stompie chased the fluffy at a slow pace, letting the mare waddle, crying about her hurties, but trying to get away from the munsta. Eventually Stompie saw her fans on the page commenting to ‘get on with it’ so she jumped up…and ‘SPLAT’ went the fluffy!
Gore went flying in almost every direction, even the camera.
Soon after, a cloth cleaned off the lens. “Whoopsie! That’s actually the first blood splatter to ever get on the lens! A first for this stream!” She looked over at the foal on the table, making petrified cheeps, now more red than orange. Stompie’s apron was now more spotted than usual, even her mask.
“Now…for our main event. Fluffy turkey!” Stompie clapped her hands. “Just let me get into a clean ensemble!”
A quick montage of Stompie’s best played, and Stompie was back in a few minutes, her mask clean, and in a chef’s outfit. They were in a different place as well. It was the kitchen, the camera showing the counter, oven, and sink. “Alright. Now, this is indeed for eating, so cleanliness is important. This isn’t just abuse, but it’s also food. You don’t want to get sick.”
Stompie zoomed in on the sink, where a blue fluffy with a red mane huddled, her tail between her legs. “This is ‘Maria’. You know, female version of Mario? Anyways, she was baby crazy. Got pregnant three different times by ferals. First two times, the owner used parsley to make her abort. The third time she ran away, then came back pregnant and smug. After making her abort again, the owner gave her up. Then got a stallion. I’m pretty sure she’ll just have a different set of problems, but whatever.” Stompie shrugged. “But now she gets to be the main event. “
Stompie lifted the fluffy by the scruff.
“Eee! Bad upsies!”
“Shut up. Now, you guys might be wondering ‘Stompie, how do you know what kind of fluffy to use for this’? And I say…I googled it.” She grinned. “The results were pretty mixed. It depends on what you like. I prefer a mare who’s been pregnant at least once. More meat on them without being too lean. And you don’t want it too chunky either.” She gave the mare a rough smack on the flank.
“Owies!”
“First step is emptying, but that’s not enough. That just empties the bowels. You want this thing completely clean. What you need is a sink or sprayer with…slightly more power than usual.” Stompie took out the sprayer, which did seem more heavy duty than the average one. She gave a shrug. “When you live where I do, you need this. And no, no hints.” She wagged a finger. Stompie jammed the sprayer into the fluffy’s snout, partly down the throat. Turning it on, the mare’s blue eyes bugged, and water came out of them. Whether it be tears or the sprayer’s water, it was unknown. It soon soaked the mare’s face fluff. Soon a torrent of dirty water came shooting out the mare’s ass into the sink. Stompie kept the water boarding up until the water ran clear for a few seconds. The water was turned off, and the hose was taken out. “There. She’s clean inside and out. Now…we deal with…this.” Stompie gave the fluff a yank. She then took out an electric razor. “I haven’t done this since I was twelve and my sister stole my Barbie’s!” She held down the fluffy and started to shave her.
As the fluffy felt a bald spot… “Nuuuu! Nu take pwetty fwuff! Fwuffy nee fwuff tu be pwetty an wawm!”
“Oh, you’ll be plenty warm soon enough.” Stompie said, giving a meaningful glance towards the oven. A glance the fluffy was too stupid to catch onto.
“Buh…nu be pwetty!”
Stompie gave the fluffy’s ear a sharp twist to stop her complaining. “I’ll cut off more than fluff if you don’t stop your whining.”
Despite Stompie’s efforts, the fluffy ended up with plenty of nicks. Stompie was experienced with an electric razor, but couldn’t help with making some nicks. “It’ll let the heat out, I suppose.” She said. “I wonder if I can shave a fluffy without leaving a single mark on them. Maybe later. If I make a single mark, I’ll just kill them brutally right then so you Stompers don’t get bored.”
Stompie placed the fluffy on a cooking tray on the counter, then turned the wailing fluffy around so her back end was facing the camera. “Now…the stuffing. A common mistake is people stuffing them back in the babymaker. You don’t. You stuff them up the rear like a turkey. I’m going to be using pre shaved foals. Kind of like a turducken. You guys ever heard of that? It’s a turkey stuffed with a duck, stuffed with a chicken. I never had one, but I did my Googling.” Stompie moved a box in frame. It had five sobbing foals. They had their eyes open, and were crying for their mummah. They were cold and wanted milk. They wanted love. Stompie had an evil grin. “These were the unwanted spawn of Maria.”
“Babbehs! Wan babbehs!” The fluffy protested. “Nu huwt babbehs!”
“Now, let’s do the stuffing!” With that, Stompie grabbed a random foal, and shoved it up into the mare’s rear.
“Nuuu! Babbeh nu gu in poopie pwace! Nu fo babbehs!” The mare screamed, trying to flail. She couldn’t get up with Stompie’s hand pinning her down.
“I’m giving you your babbehs. I don’t know why you’re bitching.” She shoved another foal into the mare. She turned to the camera. “The foals get rinsed out too, so that’s why they’re not pissing themselves in fear.” She explained. The box of foals only had three left, which were shaking and crying. They had backed into the farthest corner away from Stompie. They tried to waddle away in fear when Stompie reached for them, and she chased them around with her hand as if they had any coordination to avoid her. She grabbed the tail of the fleeing one and lifted it up like one would irresponsibly do with a rat or a mouse. “Don’t actually lift any animals you give a sh-t about like this. It’s like lifting one of us up by and arm or a leg. It’s uncomfortable if not painful.” She explained. She then readjusted her grip, and shoved it up the cavity next. “Normally you’d do this with a dead animal, but then it wouldn’t be Painsgiving, would it?” She shoved the second to last foal up the mare, who hadn’t stopped screaming about her poopie place hurties and her babbehs.
“Aw, we’re down to your last babbeh.” Stompie taunted.
“W-wastest babbeh?” The fluffy tearfully tried to turn. “Nu gib wastest babbeh fowevah sweepies!”
“Either the foal goes in, or she gets to meet Mr. Blendy!” Stompie took out a blender with suspicious red stains. She brought him from the basement. “It’s been a while since he had any fun.” She saw the mare and foal’s eyes go wide to see the sharp blades of the blender.
“N…nu wan babbeh to get huwties….” The mare said.
“Well, that’s not an option. So I choose. And I want to blend a foal again.” Stompie dropped the foal into the plugged in blender and put the lid on.
The foal yelped “Owies!” Then unsteadily got to it’s feet. It stood on its hind legs, front hooves pressed to the glass. “Pwease wet outies! Nu wan meet mista bwendie!” The foal tapped on the glass with one of its front hooves. Tears slid down it’s hairless body.
“Hm….nah.” Stompie clicked the ‘blend’ button.
A short scream was quickly cut off as the blades sliced into the frail foal’s body, quickly grinding it into a red paste with some white bits of cartilage soft bone.
The mare’s mouth was open in horror, a chirp escaping.
Stompie was laughing gleefully, clapping her hands and jumping up and down. “Oh, that was so amazing! I missed that! We can use that as a glaze.” Stompie poured the mixture over the mare, who let out a strangled sound. “We can’t have her trying to run away, so now it’s time to get rid of those leggies.” Stompie gleefully took out a cleaver. “This is the divorced wife of Mr. Cleavy. She wanted to stay in the kitchen, so they separated.” She claimed. Each leggie was cut off in quick succession, the mare screaming.
“WEGGIES! NU! NEE WEGGIES FOR HUGGIES AND WUV! NEE WEGIES TO WUN AN PWAY!” The mare screamed as the leggies were lined up in front of her.
“Now…lets get her into the oven! Remember, all parts of the fluffy are safe to eat when cooked.” Stompie carried the tray to the oven, which had been preheated, and shoved the tray in. She closed the door, focusing the camera on the clear oven door.
The mare’s cries were muffled as she tried to wiggle forward, the meat already getting to her, turning the delicate pink flesh of her body red. She screamed as she was cooking, unable to escape the pain.
Stompie clapped. “Yay!” She said. “Now that she’s cooking, we’ll take out an already cooked mare. Just like a kitchen show!” Stompie reached out of frame, pulling an already plated fluffy roast. This one was perfectly prepared, and Stompie cut into it. “Mmm. Looks tasty.” She claimed. She let the audience see the stuffed foals spill out of the mare. “They’re a little crispy.” Stompie took a bite, and nodded. “It’s perfect. I had to do a lot of trials with spices. If you really like their suffering and like spicy food, try a spicy pepper rub!” She made sure the baking mare was in the background as she ate.
After a few bites, Stompie noticed the mare was now dead. “That’s it for our Painsgiving episode. Next I should be on the right track again, and get a Leprechaun episode or something going. See you next time!”
With that, Stompie signed off.