This is a sequel to Gone Fishin’
I wasn’t originally going to do a sequel of any sort but @bigfootRULES wanted more to happen to Sugar
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Sugar was out for her yard playtime and to make good poopies when she’d finally made the choice to run away. She really loved her mummah but after what her munstah daddeh had done to her babies, she didn’t want to be here anymore. He was the scariest thing ever and no matter how much mummah loved her, all she wanted was to have babbehs and be a good mummah herself. Going to a loose board in the fence (the very same one she’d gotten through to become pregnant by a feral), she squeezed her body through and ran squealing down the street as if munstah daddeh was actively pursuing her.
An hour later as Bill sat plopped down in his armchair, not doing much but sitting around, his daughter would come crying into the room. Her name was Amy, she was 8 years old, and her father loved her dearly. Especially since her mother had died and she was all he had left.
“Daddy! Daddy! Sugar is gone! Someone took her!” The girl went to cry at his arm, the middle-aged man giving a soft sigh.
“Honey, nobody took her. I imagine she just got lost.” He knew how much the fluffy meant to her. After having caved after the death of his wife and getting the biotoy, his daughter had quickly come to basically need the presence of it to cope. “We’ll go look for her. If we can’t find her, we’ll make posters. And she’ll be fine.” Bill ruffled the kid’s hair, and a hopeful smile had replaced the tears.
They wouldn’t find Sugar that day, though. They wouldn’t find her for quite awhile. Sugar had gotten together with the feral, the apple of her eye, and they both lived together in a garbage pile at the park.
“Munstah daddeh gib babbehs ‘aw fowebba sweepies!” She told the feral, a big blue and red idiot named Puddle.
“Puddew ‘hae munstah daddeh!” He stamped a hoof on the ground but didn’t actually seem all that affected by the loss. “Sugah ‘wan make nyu babbehs?” He asked because fluffies don’t know tact and dealing with others going through loss. Not that it mattered anyways because Sugar did in fact want to make more babies and he was more than happy to give ‘em to her.
So she lived there for quite awhile, finding all sorts of good nummies out of the overflowing trashcans in the park and generally going unmolested by the humans who visited the area. It was a happy life for a fluffy who had run away, and eventually she gave birth to three chirpies. She didn’t name them yet. Maybe would wait until their tails and manes grew in. For now they were big fat spheres, one orange, one blue, one brown who stupidly and cheerfully suckled at her teats.
“Mummah wub babbehs…babbehs wub mummah…” She cooed the special mummah song to them but then she heard the warbling screech of her special friend. Peeking out from the garbage pile they lived in, she could see that men with poles had snatched him up by the tail and tossed him away into a sack. Crowding deeper into the garbage with her babies, Sugar shivered and hoped they wouldn’t look in there. They had seen her peeking out though and kicked the piles of debris away, going to snatch the mare up and tossing her in the bag. Two chirpies had clung to her teats when she’d gotten snatched, but the brown one was left to cheep and peep on the ground.
“Wewe bwown babbeh!? Wan bwown babbeh!” She cried out and flailed around in the bag.
“Sorry, don’t see ‘em.” One of the fluffy catchers told her as she pleaded for the return of the chirpy, glancing down and then stomping his workboot down on the little piece of shit so it exploded into a pile of blood, milk, and bone fragments. He had to scrape off some of the gore-slicked fur with a stick.
After collecting a bunch of ferals from the park they brought ‘em over to the shelter. Most would be put down in rather rapid time due to an initiative by the city to clean up the place, but they were all scanned to see if any were pet runaways with microchips. Luckily for Sugar, she just happened to be one. They even placed Puddle into a little kennel with her in case her owner wanted to adopt him along with taking her back home. You never knew.
It was early in the morning when Bill got the phone call that Sugar had been found. Honestly he’d written her off as being run over or having been mauled by a dog.
“You found Sugar? Oh, my daughter will be delighted.” It was still early in the morning. He was already thinking of what could be done before Amy got him. He listened to the vet on the line, shook his head to himself. “Oh, and she’s got a special friend? Of course I’ll adopt him. The more the merrier.”
Going on down to the fluffy shelter, he found himself oddly cheerful. Amy was still down in the dumps over Sugar. Boy was she going have the best day when getting a good look at her after getting home from school.
“I just need you to fill out a few forms.” The receptionist on staff told him, Bill handing off the very same travel kennel he’d taken to the pond so she could fit it with his fluffy. Oh, sorry. Fluffies. He’d just kindly taken one off the streets so it wouldn’t be going into the gas chamber. What a saint.
After everything was squared away and the receptionist came back out with the kennel filled with fluffies, Bill would stoop down and smile to Sugar.
“Hello, Sugar. Who’s your friend?”
Sugar nervously began to shake, but he seemed really happy. Maybe he was happy to see her again! He didn’t even give her chirpies a meanie look.
“Dey am Puddew. He am speciaw fwend. Dese chippehs.” She used a hoof to indicate the fat little balls of fluff. Bill nodded.
“Fantastic. Lets get you both home.”
On the way home he had to hear Puddle rattling the cage in the backseat. “Wet Puddew gu, dummeh! Haechu!”
Bill drummed his fingers against the steering wheel and sighed. “Hate me all you want, hoss, but as my mama used to say: It ‘aint changing a thing.” God he hated these things. Well, he would get his daughter’s to listen one way or another. Clearly the fishing trip hadn’t been a good enough motivator to keep in line.
Once at home he would lift the kennel out of the backseat with a grunt and heft it off to the backyard tool shed. Opening, he brought the fluffies into a world which smelled strange to them. Oil, grease, old grass, the must of old wood. There were many scary things hanging on the walls, tools their little brains couldn’t comprehend the use of.
“C’mere you little cocksucker.” Bill unclasped the kennel and reached in, snatching up Puddle by the dirty scruff of his mane. Wrangling the kicking and yelping fluffy out, shoving him under one arm, he’d slam the feral down on his workbench and begin to cinch steel cable ties around it’s legs, tying one leg to it’s neighbor and effectively disabling him for the time being. The stallion was forced to lay flat on his back, looking up stupidly in the dim-bulb lit space of the shed.
“Dummeh! Puddew am gib yew fowebba sweepies!” The feral threatened.
“Nuuuu! Speciaw fwend! Daddeh, NUUUU!” Sugar didn’t know what would happen but given previous experiences, it couldn’t be anything good.
Bill was back over to the kennel, reaching inside for a chirpy. Sugar would try to stop him but of course she couldn’t and a babbeh this size couldn’t even wriggle around to try and save itself. Holding the precious little orange fluffball in his palm, he’d tug down a weedwacker from the toolshelf and carefully led out the trimmer line just enough. He’d cinch the line against the chirpy who could only peep and piddle uselessly on the floor. Giving the starter rope a good tug, the weedwhacker cranked on.
“Wha dummeh doin!?” Puddle asked as Bill leveled the weedwhacker over to the workbench he’d been placed on. He got a good look at his own foal dangling from above like a baby’s mobile before Bill started making it spin. The chirpy didn’t even have time to know what was happening to it. It was reduced to a smear of bloody clumps and clotted milk against it’s father’s face as the weedwhacker sent it thumping down rapidly. Even after the chirpy was dead, though, he kept at it. Puddle screamed and shit all over the table as pieces of his face were ripped off in tiny increments. His eyes were lacerated and made useless, ears were torn off slivers at a time and left as gory stubs. Bill gave the fluffy’s head a good scrubbing until he started seeing a sliver of skull peek through.
“NU MOWE! NU MOWE! PUDDEW SOWWY!” The fluffy couldn’t see anymore. He could hear, if only a little. Blood had begun to fill his ear drums in a never ending flood.
“SPECIAW FWEND! BABBEH! HUUHUU NUUUU!” Sugar screeched as she pressed up against the kennel, not wanting to believe what she had just watched.
Setting aside the weedwhacker after turning it off, Bill reached inside for the remaining chirpy. Before she could even try to bite him as she had at the pond, he curled his fingers into a fist and punched her square in the jaw before reaching down to take the foal away.
“Huwties…see-pwace huwties…heaw-pwace huwties…huuuu…” Puddle sobbed on the workbench but he didn’t know what real pain was. Not yet.
Bill put the chirpy down on the workbench and wandered over to one of the high shelves, collecting a model rocket he and his daughter had built together. This was one of the ones that gave a great big bang instead of fizzing off and dropping to the ground after igniting. “Gonna feel a pinch, big guy”
He shoved the nosecone of that rocket so deep into it’s ass that the fluffy could likely taste the model glue on it. He screeched.
“POOPIE PWACE! NU AM MAWE! HUUUUUU!” Bill waited a moment so it could calm down. It eventually did, just sobbing to itself. Scooping the chirpy up, he’d place it gently in it’s father’s mouth.
“Dun huwt babbeh, speciaw fwend! Yew am gud speciaw fwend! Pwease nu huwt babbeh!” Sugar pleaded, and it seemed that Puddle could still hear her because he tried to hold his jaw as steady as possible. Bill took the opportunity to rotate the stallion so his ass was facing the kennel that Sugar was trapped in.
“I didn’t have much of a budget, but I’m shooting to be the first man to get a fluffy into space.” He said to Sugar with a wink. Taking a box lighter from his shirt pocket, he lit the fuse of the model rocket.
Puddle had time to mumble: ‘Wa soun?“ Before the rocket ignited with a spray of sparks and sent itself blasting further into his anus. The stallion screamed. Clamped his mouth down with all his might. There was an audible ‘pop!’ as the chirpy still in his mouth was crushed, the remains clinging between his teeth. That didn’t seem to worry Puddle though. That model rocket was plunging into spaces unknown and ripped up into his ass with such fury that flesh ripped and blood trickled down. Bill though it might just go all the way through for a moment before there it was: The bang. An explosion of such force inside such a tight little space sent an absolute torrent of burning flesh, shit, singed fur, and blood out like a gunshot directly into Sugar’s face. Bill was standing by with his fire extinguisher but it didn’t seem like it was necessary. Puddle was kaput. His asshole no longer existed. There was now just simply a smoldering crevice on his backside that even ruptured out through the top. Taking the travel kennel and hefting it outside, he’d set it down and spray his daughter’s beloved fluffy off with a hose.
“Sugar, I want you to know this is all your fault. You understand that?”
The fluffy simply nodded.
“And when my daughter gets home, you’re going to act happy to see her. You’re going to smile. You’re going play games.”
Another nod, a tremble. She’d just seen too much to even cry.
When Amy got home from school she was elated to see Sugar! She looked really healthy, and she was smiling more than she had ever seen.
“Wan pway baww, mummah?” Sugar asked, giggling and chasing around a little red ball with the child.
Maybe the little pep talk had worked. Or maybe it was the fact Bill was building a new model rocket in the living room.
