A jaunty banjo tune plays over footage of a rural but still modernised farm as a man and a woman step off of their front porch and towards the camera, the man is wearing a black shirt with a large, gaudy crucifix made of fake silver, while the woman has on a cowboy hat and a blue flannel shirt. She smiles to the camera as she speaks in an offensively thick Texan accent.
“Well howdy y’all, and thank you for joining us here on Nuttington Farm. My name is Mary-Beth Johnson and this here is my husband Bradley.”
The 5 foot nothing Brandley nodded towards the camera, but immediately started waving when he saw the scowl in his wife’s eyes, Mary-Beth kept on smiling like nothing had happened.
“Now for those of y’all that don’t know, Bradley and I are the founders of The Abstinence Society Service for Helping Adults of Texas Suburbia. And we do not like the FILTH that is in our neighbourhoods these days, no sir, why we can’t go five minutes without seeing faggots on our televisions or being forced to listen to sopping wet vaginas in our music. But the worst thing of all, is those doggone Fluffies, the little varmins run all over the place fornicating with each other, fornicating with Fluffies of the same sex, fornicating with babies, fornicating with things that aren’t even Fluffies. Why I have it on good authority that some Fluffies even fornicate with humans, isn’t that just sick and perverse Bradley?”
“Oh? Oh! Oh yes dear, dreadfully sick and… naughty.”
Bradley tried to subtly wipes the sweat from his brow and stepped closer to the camera, hoping the screen would cut off what was happening below his belt.
Mary-Beth kept on talking. “Thanks to those liberal perverts, we good Christian folk are not allowed to rightfully send those heathens to hell by way of a swift and justified hammering. Cause the dead bodies are ‘bad for the environment’, but thankfully, we here at The Abstinence Society Service for Helping Adults of Texas Suburbia have worked out a little loophole, for the low price of $19.99, we will provide you, yes you, with a full neutering licence courtesy of Kemper Industries. With this licence, you will be able to freely and openly neuter any Fluffy you find, without any legal ramifications, here’s what some of our satisfied customers had to say.”
The screen cut to a dark alleyway, three boys wearing black clothing surrounded a Fluffy family trapped in the corner, two of the boys grabbed the Fluffy Father, holding his limbs outstretched while the third boy took a potato peeler to the stallion’s exposed nutsack.
“NUUUUU! NU TAKE SPECIAW-WUMPS, NEED WUMPS TO BE BESTESH DA….AAAAAAHHHHH!!”
A swift and bloody stroke across his testicle nearly tore his sack apart, another peel tore off a chunk of his cock and ripped his ballbag open enough that the camera could see the exposed testicle.
The peeler boy chuckled before remembering the camera was still there.
“Hehe, what, oh right. Um… Thank you to…. A.S.S.H.A…… I mean the Abstinence society for whatever for letting me and my fellow Americas tackle this growing problem of horny Fluffies so that we can protect our neighbourhood from filth.”
The peeler boy turned his attention to the weeping stallion once more while his companions set about smooshing the screaming foals under their feet.
The camera then cut again to a boudoir type room filled with expensive leather and elaborate bondage gear, a woman wearing a leather cat-suit so tight you could practically see her organs appeared on screen, her inch-high black stiletto heel was carefully pressed on the nutsack of a trapped green stallion. She took a long drag of her cigarette before turning to the camera.
“Thanks to The Abstinence Society Service, I can fulfil my clients darkest desires without fear of reprobation from the authorities. Now be a good boy and try not to cry.”
“Pwease, mummah, nu huwt Pa-feh-tik’s wumps, mummah say dat if Pa-feh-tik am gud Fwuffy den git to be daddeh, need wumps to be….”
With a sharp stab, the leather woman’s heel punctured right through the stallion’s left nut, the camera cut away just before the screaming got too much to hear.
The screen cut in to its final aside in a dank basement laboratory where a blonde man in a dirty white lab coat had a mare tied to a set of stirrups and her special-place flayed out for all to see. A smirking red stallion stood by his side while the man carefully aimed a syringe filled with Hydrochloric acid towards her exposed vagina. The blonde man seemed almost surprised to see the camera.
“The what society? No I haven’t got a license, why would I…?”
The camera suddenly cut back again to Mary-Beth and Bradley, Bradley’s face was right red and sweating profusely while Mary-Beth’s disapproving scowl was just caught by the camera before a fake smile plastered itself onto her orange skin.
“Just look at all those happy customers, wouldn’t you agree Bradley.”
“Yes leather, I mean Heather, I mean honey.”
A half-second of absolute fury crossed Mary-Beth’s face before the fake smile quickly returned.
“And you can be one of those happy customers yourself for just the low price of £19.99. Order now and for only an extra $25, y’all can buy yourself a ticket to our Nuttington Hoedown, where we’ll have music, cookouts, gelding lessons for the youngins, and a Statewide contest for Speed Neutering. Supplies are limited so get yours quickly. We do hope you join our heavenly society, and help us rid our world of these monstrous heathens and bring a chaste and loving Lord back into our hearts.”
Mary-Beth and Bradley waved to the camera waved to the camera as it slowly pulled away, staying on the pair just long enough for Bradley’s erection to be seen at the bottom of the screen before immediately cutting to an info-graphic with all the details needed to join The A.S.S.H.A.T.S. cause.