It was time - night had descended upon the city. As good, honest folk settled in for the evening, all the city’s wretched filth would soon emerge unto the streets, ready to perpetuate all manner of vile evils upon the innocent.
But tonight they will find out that justice always prevails - for a hero will soon sally forth to punish the wicked and bring light to the dark corners of this world!
Richard Cockburn was the hero’s name, though none would ever know it; for our hero sought no acclaim or recognition for his deeds. To know that the city could sleep safe at night, was all the reward he needed.
As the bell tolled midnight, the dire avenger checked over his implements of justice:
Sack of Truth? Check.
Baton of Vengeance? Check.
Pliers of Confession? Check.
Butane Torch of Lustrous Judgement? Check.
Cigar Cutter of Integrity? Check.
Rubber Bands of Ultimate Obligingness? Check.
Everything was in order, and there was no more time to waste. Every second not spent punishing evil-doers was a second wasted, and so Richard Cockburn set out once more unto the breach, fire burning in his heart (FOR VENGEANCE!).
The encroaching darkness had left the city quiet, and few people could be seen walking the gloomy streets at this hour. Richard knew he would need to seek out the vile dens of his archenemy, and that he would find them in the furtive corners and elusive crevices of this once fine settlement.
Rounding a street corner, he found himself staring down a dark alley. The small of garbage and waste infused the air around him with a sickening aroma - no doubt his quarry was near. Creeping forwards quietly, and focusing all his senses to their limit, he soon heard it.
“Chirp! Peep! Cheep!”
The sound of infant fluffies peeping into the night - the sound of an evil yet to sprout, but germinating nonetheless. No doubt their parents were near as well. Moving further down the alley, our hero soon happened upon a multitude of overturned cardboard boxes, sitting seemingly abandoned.
“Mummah wub aww babbehs~”
“Dwink wots ob miwkies~”
“Gwow up big an’ stwong~!”
Not so abandonded, clearly. In an around the cardboard boxes was a small family of fluffies. The Stallion - Patriarch of the Damned, playing with one of it’s spawn and giggling; The Mare - Whore of Babylon, singing a cacophonous tune, as two more of her issue gorged themselves on her vile milk of fluffy unkindness; and last but not least, The Foals - The Seeds of Evil. A family of five altogether, five that would need to taste retribution. Stepping into the open, our hero announced himself.
“Hark, miscreants! Justice has arrived!”
The fluffies went still, noticing for the first time that there was a figure standing mere feet away from their idyllic (yet sinister) family scene. The wretched Stallion was first to act, spreading his legs wide and puffing his cheeks. A challenge! The mare, scooped her children close, intent on protecting her spawn from the consequences of their actions.
“Dummeh hoomin’ nu huwt speciaw fwiend an’ babbehs! Weave’ fwuffies awone!”, the brave yet foolish vandal cried out. His mate cooed to her children, “Speciaw fwiend am suuuu bwave!”. These abominable creatures had grown fat on the fruits of evil, and our hero knew there was only one recourse open to him.
“Prepare yourselves! For I have come to take your lumps - tremble in fear of the Lumptaker’s wrath!”
The stallion’s pupils went as small as pinpricks upon hearing the glorious title of our conquering hero. “Wumptakew? NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!”, the beast screamed as all the bravado drained out of him by the knowledge of whom he faced. The Legend of the Lumptaker was known to all evil-doers in the land, for he was no brutal killer, but a deliverer of justice. Those he punished, would inevitably spread his tale further and further, and there was hardly a fluffy in the city, that did not tremble at his coming.
The stallion attempted to flee in panic, but our hero was faster! Lunging out, he grasped the vile, wriggling beast before he could escape. The thing twisted every which way in his grasp, attempting in vain to escape his ordained punishment. There was no mercy for the wicked, not tonight, not in any of the myriad nights before, and not in the nights to come. As the disgusting stallion’s strength fled him, he resorted to begging and pleading. “Pwease nicie mistah, nu take fwuffy wumps? Fwuffy nee’ wumps fow’ bestest gud’ feews an’ habing babbehs!”
The equine evildoer looked at the hero Cockburn with an expression of piteous appeal, begging with all his words and manner to be spared. Our hero thought for a moment, then spoke his reply. “Very well, fluffy. I shall grant your request and spare you your lumps!” An expression of joy spread across the fluffy’s degenerate face, elated at being spared the punishment he deserved.
"Thankies mistah! Mistah Wumptakew am nicest meanie mistah! Nao fwuffy get tu hab mow gud feews an’ bestest enfies an’ make mow babbehs an- wha’ am mistah Wumptakew doin?, the fluffy asked in the middle of his nonsensical babbling, having noticed our hero reaching into the pack attached to his waist and pulling out a small metallic object.
“Oh, but I never said anything about letting you have more “enfies” or “babbehs”, fool! I shan’t take your lumps, but I’ll be taking something else of yours in return!” said Cockburn as he pulled out the Cigar Cutter of Integrity, and moved it into position over the fluffy’s disgusting phallus.
The stallion, now understanding to his utmost horror what was about to happen, recommenced his attempts at wriggling free, yet our hero’s grasp was as cold and unyielding as iron. No villain would escape him that easily!
“Say goodbye to that which is most precious to you, as I purify your evil!” the Lumptaker declared, and in one swift motion engaged the Cigar Cutter of Integrity, and severed the scoundrel’s appendage of evil.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! NU TAKE FWUFFY’S NU-NU STICK! SCREEEEEEEEEEE!”, the gelded rapscallion screeches in agony. The blackguard’s member lay in Cockburn’s palm, but the Unmanner of Fluffies cast it onto the ground, dropping the purified stallion down next to it.
“Huu huu nu-nu stick am gone! Pwease, nu-nu stick, come back! Fwuffy nee’ ou’ tu make gud pee-pees an’ hab gud feews! Huu huu huu…” Our hero looked on in disgust, before stomping onto the severed tool on the ground, sending the former stallion into even greater depths of hysteria.
“Punishment has been meted out, and your sins no longer weigh upon your soul, fluffy! I have given you a second chance, go now! And live a life of virtue and honesty!” The stallion however heard none of Cockburn’s impassioned speech, too focused on grieving it’s lost stallionhood. There was no more time to waste however, the rest of the family remained impure, weighed down by all their grievous misdeeds. The Lumptaker would save them.
Turning around, our champion gazed down at the mare, sobbing quietly and attempting to hide her progeny underneath herself. Fool, she can not protect them from JUSTICE itself! Cockburn cast his arm down towards her, and yanked her up. Three shivering foals revealed themselves, as they peeped and cried in fear. Richard gazed at the mare in his grasp, and tossed her behind him carelessly, she had no lumps to take, but she had sinned nonetheless by bringing an evildoers spawn into this world!
Richard was meticulous however, he had made a vow never to harm the innocent, and so he carefully began to examine each foal to determine if they had inherited the sins of their father. To his horror and disgust, all three foals were male. Truly the evil of the stallion had been potent indeed. Cockburn was glad he’d rid the world of it.
The foals on the ground babbled incoherently, their speech interwoven with peeps and cheeps and appeals for mercy.
“Pwease nu huwt babbeh! Am onwy wittow babbeh!”
“Mummah! Daddeh! Babbehs nee’ hewp!”
It was useless, though Cockburn had to admit to feeling some semblance of pity for these children. It was not their fault they had been burdened with impurity and wickedness, but if allowed to go unpurified, they would surely grow up to spread yet more evil. No - justice had to be meted out, even upon the young.
One foal however, did not plead - a foal whose fluff was blue like his father’s, and whose mane the pink of his mother. He had the audacity to stare into the eyes our hero. Puffing out his cheeks, he demanded indignantly.
“Wet’ bestest babbeh go ow’ get wowstest sowwie poopies!” Clearly the favourite of this clan of iniquitous miscreants. He would be last to taste justice. Let him stew in fear of what is to come.
Seeing his threat to unheeded, the arrogant child indeed charged at our hero, intent on carrying it out. Upon getting close enough, he turned around, aiming his already feces-encrusted behind at our hero, and unleashing a spray of liquid foulness. Our hero however, swift as the wind, merely stepped aside. The imperious offspring once more turned around, face gleaming with vainglorious pride, only to be met with his foe, standing unharmed.
“Pain is temporary young ones, but the salvation I bring is eternal.” The Paladin of Castration said, as he bent down to pick up the first of the three foals to face his justice, and flicking the impetuous one on the snout, sending the thing reeling back. The “bestest” now merely cried, and begged to know why “meanie mistah huwt bestest babbeh?” The foal in Cockburn’s grasp however, wriggled, and cried ever harder as Cockburn pondered on which tool to dispense justice with. This one had pleaded with him by appealing his own nature as but an infant - so let him face his redemption at the hands of the tool most suited for the young: the Rubber Band of Ultimate Obligingness.
Grasping the foal in an iron hold across its midsection, leaving it suspended, Cockburn took a rubber band and wrapped it tight as a noose across the infantile fluffy’s tiny scrotum. The foal immediately began screeching, as the tight rubber began to constrict blood flow to his sack.
Setting the foal down, Richard gazed at the result of his work. The foal twisted on the ground, trying whatever his tiny mind could think of to loosen the binds on his genitalia. “SCREEEEEEEEEEEE PWEASE WET BABBEH SPECIAW WUMPS GO!” In the days to come, the offending lumps would soon perish, and fall off. As far as Cockburn’s implements of justice went, the rubber bands were perhaps the most merciful.
“Now it is your turn, little one”, he said, staring at the second foal, who was had not once ceased his sobbing, even to comfort his suffering brother. Scooping him up without delay with his left hand and pulling out the Pliers of Confession with his left, Richard silently placed the pliers’ jaws in position over the sobbing foal’s ballsack. As the cold metal brushed against his most intimate parts, the foal shrieked in fear, and stared down his body, attempting to see what was touching him.
Without a word, the Lumptaker slowly crushed his special lumps with the pliers.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE! MUMMAH! DADDEH! HEWP! MUMMAAAAAAAAHHH! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” the foal cried even louder than his father had upon his penectomy, our hero even wincing from the sheer volume of his screeching. Yet he would not be deterred, slowly yet surely increasing the pressure, our hero continued the purification. It didn’t take long before he felt two small pops as the pliers finally clamped together.
The foal’s mouth hung open in a silent scream, before his head fell loosely to his side, having lost consciousness from the trauma. Our hero gently set him down next to the foal’s rubber-banded brother, whose cries had quieted down into a soft “huu-huu’ing”. One final offender now remained - the “bestest baby” of this vile pack.
Curiously, the foal had disappeared from the position Cockburn had left him in previously. Peering further into the overturned box he’d left him in, our champion still couldn’t locate him. Standing back up, he gave the vicinity a quick once-over. There was the father, weeping in the middle of the alley, his mate by his side doing her best to comfort him. There were the two foals in the overturned box, once sobbing quietly, the other unconscious and silent. Finally he spotted a tiny waddling figure low to the ground, attempting to make his way toward the alley exit.
The arrogant one was attempting to escape, having elected to abandon its own family to their fate in hopes of sparing his own unmentionables from the pain they had suffered. A righteous indignity welled up inside our avenging hero at this cowardly sight. Cockburn quickly bounded after the escaping foal - none would escape judgement! The foal, hearing stomping footsteps behind him, turned to look. Only to squirt urine in fear, as he saw the Lumptaker approaching him, fury written on his face.
“Pwease weggies, wun fastew! Fwuffy nee’ get away fwom wump-huwty munstah!”, the little one pleaded with his own limbs. It was fruitless. Small and feeble as he was, even at his fastest he couldn’t hope to escape our hero.
“You’re mine evildoer!”, Cockburn declared as he swiftly grasped the fleeing foal in his unyielding grip. The wriggling, terrified bestest baby shat and pissed himself in mortal terror. His own feeble legs had betrayed him by not running fast enough, and now he was doomed. Our hero wasted no time, he already knew which tool to use on this prideful child. The Butane Torch of Lustrous Judgement lit up like a miniature Bonfire of the Vanities.
“Nuuuuuu! Buwnie huwties am bad fow bestest babbeh! Pwease nice mistah wumptakew, wet babbeh go? Babbeh am gud babbeh!”, the formerly puffed-up progeny pleaded with our hero. Yet, when the little one looked into the eyes of the Great Lumptaker, he felt his blood run cold. There was no mercy or kindness to be found in those eyes, only cold, steely justice.
“Let the flames purify your rotten soul, wretch!” echoed Richard’s voice across the alley, as he focused the butane torch’s searing power straight into the proud scion’s balls.
"SCREEEEEEEEE! SCREEEEEEEEE! haf haf “SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE” the impetuous pup yelled and coughed. His eyes bulged, and his head thrashed every which way. It pissed itself a third time, the stream of urine turning into vapor where it met the searing heat of the torch. In no time at all, the “special lumps” of the dear bestest were reduced to mere lumps of coal, that broke off and crumbled to dust, leaving only a blackened smear where once had been his stallionhood.
Carelessly tossing the still screeching foal down on the ground in front of his parents, the Lumptaker took a moment to look upon the result of his work tonight. An entire family of sobbing or screeching fluffies, purified through pain, redeemed through suffering. Neither the stallion nor his spawn would ever hurt anyone ever again, their souls saved from their own sinful nature. The Redeeming Paladin took pride in his work.
“Now fluffies! Go! Go, and sin no more! You are free to live your lives in happiness and peace, now that the evil within you has been excised! Spread the name of Lumptaker to all you know, tell them that there is one who will find the evil amongst you, and who will render proper judgement upon them-”
“WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU ALREADY!? IT’S ONE IN THE GOD DAMNED MORNING AND I’M TRYING TO SLEEP WHILE YOU’RE OUT HERE TORTURING FLUFFIES AND YELLING LIKE A RETARD!”
A voice from a window overlooking the alley! Our hero made to flee, for not all in this city appreciated his noble work. Making his way back to his abode for the night, our hero knew there would be more to do tomorrow - for evil, never rests!"
