part two to " The fluffyHunters" part one: “showtime” - By whackadoo1997 - Fluffy Text Self-Posting - FluffyCommunity
The two semi trucks came to the farm gate with a roar, the hiss of air brakes and the grunt of two idling engines. Each one emblazoned on the side with the tiger cybertronics logo. The foreman at the gate let them in , and caught a ride to the farm back on the side of The truck’s cab, standing on the footplate and holding onto its railing. The cavalcade came to a roaring stop in front of the farmhouse, and the relatively new warehouses that stood like silent rusted monoliths. One of the men disembarked from the truck, alongside the foreman and they greeted one another, quickly discussing business details. Dr Vanskyock stepped out from the cab as well, exiting from the crew compartment. It had been a decent ride, the highways out by this part of the countryside were rather poorly maintained, and the trucker had gotten lippy when he kept trying to speak in CB radio lingo. Although, Dr Vanckyock was about 40 years out of date and quoting Smokey and the bandit the entire time. The ride was over, and the embarrassment had faded. For now was the time of action.
When he disembarked he introduced himself to the Foreman, and the farm owner who had made his appearance.
“Gentleman, Dr Vanskyock-” The trucker introduced him coldly.
“Please, just call me Dr v. for short.” Quite eagerly he shook both his hand. “So I’ve been told that you have an extensive infestation at this facility?”
“Yurp.” The farmer belated in a long drawl “I’ve been doin erythang t’ get rid of the’ lil’ bastards but it’s not worth the prys anymoar” The doctor nodded in agreement. Trying to decode his accent. I was like talking to a caricature of americana “I suppose you’ll take a bit of comfort in knowing that this is a State subsidized service then?” He gave a silent nod “yurp. My boy sez y’all take them fluffies and build em into robocops, basically” “correct! Allow me to show you-”
As the first trailer was being unloaded, The workers who had come along set up a gazebo style tent and quickly worked on wheeling out portable computers. They made short work of it. The second trailer had a roof mounted crane arm built into it. From inside the trailer the arm picked up a large cage and lifted it out into the open where the doctor and the farmer had waited. Two workers came and lowered the cage by hand, and proceeded to open up the latches. With the clattering of claws on metal, one of the fluffy hunters emerged. The Farmer stood rigid as a stalagmite, jaw agape. The creature that emerged was nothing like his son had described, and was something of a nightmare and plastic and metal, with bright green skin that showed from beneath. “And this my good man, is the answer to your problems! F-16 is the designation for this one, he’s quite friendly to humans despite his appearance.” The doctor and the hunter walked towards each other, the hunter looking up at him expecting some head pads or some scratches. He pressed a button on the backpack mounted on the creature, and its metal helmet lifted up, revealing the skin of its face. With a gentle touch he reached over and pet the bridge of its nose, and it chuffed and snorted happily. “It don’ bite???” Ask the farmer in shock. “Absolutely not, they are bred to only hate fluffies-” The hunter’s ears perked up and its pupil’s shrank. “No F-16, there are no fluffies yet.” It went back to its docile self.
The Farmer approached it, and begin stroking the bridge of its nose with the back off his calloused fingers, watching as a few more emerged from the cage, a group of five in total. “Gettin excited aren’tcha boy?” As the men had finished setting up their equipment, one of the junior researchers finally came out of her cab, with an iPad in hand. She sat at her station, and connected it to one of the computers, pulling up the interface for the hunters. The press of a button, they all perked up, and came over to her location, standing in order.
“Okay boys, let’s get you ready for today.” She typed away on the computer, pulling up as much information on the area as she could, satellite and lidar imaging lit up on the screen, along with data extracted from multiple commercial mapping websites. The data was interpolated by the computer and processed into a radio frequency that could be broadcast directly to the hunters. As the information was sent to them, the LED lights in their antenna glowed a flashing yellow color, to indicate that they were in process. The doctor came over with the farmer, and explained it to him. And once more he shook his head, mouth agape. “If this ain’t the damndest thing…” within minutes, they had finished. “Now sir, we are going to need access to the inside of your outbuildings and barns if you want us to attack the problem directly.” “Say no more, I gotcha.” Who came to him and then the both of them marched off to one of the warehouses on the property. The doctor looked over at The researcher.
“High hopes today, this place is infested like damned termites in a lumberyard. He said that there’s tunnels in the woods they’ve been living in, if that’s true we’ve got ourselves a doozie.” “Nothing the hunters can’t handle sir. Have some faith!” “Faith has nothing to do with it, I’ve been nervous every step of this program. We’ve already got enough trouble on our hands from the Fluffy rights league…” he reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a small bottle of amaretto, uncorking it and taking a quick sip. “These stupid little bastards should never have been released into the wild, because now look what they’ve done, this farm turned out almost 200 bushels of corn an acre, this year? About 50 an acre. They’re being eaten off the stalk by these motherfuckers…” The researcher shook her head “Fair enough…”
Inside the one warehouse, a large colony of fluffies had set up residency, making much of the machinery stored in there unusable. The cab of a combine had been converted into a nursery, the interior of a steel wagon full or tarps was now where a fluffpile would congregate. Spare parts and tools once organized and kept orderly had been knocked off shelves and scattered amongst the floor. Now the corner of the warehouse they had been stored in was caked in feces and urine, deceased fluffies were matted in the fecal matter. Once shiny and glossy coats in rotting shades of Auburn, hazel and cocoa melted away. The grave subjects of the inherent discrimination of the fluffies.
The leaders of the Heard were at the now cracked open door. The small stallions were balking and threatening the men as they walked away, ignoring them entirely. Simultaneously torn between being proud that they scared off the evil men, and enraged that they were being ignored. The leader of the herd popped out the front doors, and continued to berate the men as his flunkies waited inside.
“SMAWTY GIVE YOU WORSTEST SORRY HOOVSIES! THE WORSTEST OF AWW TIME! GET BACK HEAW! GET-” His diatribe of absolute rage was cut off silently, and the sound of thumping feet was rapidly heard and then nothing. The leaders’ flunkies were puzzled as to what just occurred. Where was the smarty? Where did he go? Certainly he couldn’t have just up and vanished? As they all proceeded out the doors, they looked around for him but only saw a grim picture. There was a great smear of blood on the ground, and some tiny little puffs of his aqua blue fluff.
“Wewe smawty?” One of the pegasi quipped, wandering around in horror. “Why gassy covered in boo boo juice ?”
The tiny little group realized what had just occurred was dangerous to them, and quickly ran inside, they’re fat little bodies wobbling back and forth like little pigs. As they ran to find their mates, and warn everybody it was already too late. The five hunters already surrounded the building, two at the front, waiting to pounce in. Two on the sides, whom it climbed up the side of the building with their claws and were perched in the ventilation windows that lined the ceiling. And finally the fifth one had clambered onto the roof, after being instructed to do so directly by the farmer. The old man had told him that the vent on the top of the building wasn’t nailed down, and could be nudged out of the way. It took his advice to heart, which proved to be true, a simple nudge and the vent just slid a few inches. What luck.
The fluffy stallions had reached their mares, screaming and crying
“munstahs! Munstahs is coming!” One of the pegasi shouted in alarm
“smawty is…is foweva sweepies!”
At this proclamation the barn burst into emergency, mares were grabbing their foals on their backs and getting ready to leave, viewing from above the leader of the pack issued a final proclamation of attack.
“NOW!” It shouted verbally, its voice a throaty electric belch. It pushed the event aside and fell into the barn, landing on top of the combine cab on all fours. The mirrors within the cab screamed, their newborn foals peeping and chirping in postnatal shock. in the rear of the facility, The other two hunters burst in through the windows. The one pounding down on a wagon that had been filled with spare tarps, upon which a nursery had been set up with mares and their young. It reached down with zero anticipation, and immediately began biting them down, it’s Jaw snapping like a bear trap upon each mare and foal. On the other side, one hunter was unlucky enough to fall in the ship pile that they had accumulated, immediately putting a dying stallion out of its misery. Enraged, it lunged at the nearest group of fluffies who had run from the harvesters cab, the fluff pile now exposed to the world screamed in horror at the sight of the shit covered monster. The Hunter lunged at them, and with one fell sweep of its claws shredded two of them in half, they’re intestines splattering on the crowd like confetti. Lifeless Bodies tumbling along as their bones shattered. It didn’t stop there as it lunge towards the rest of the crowd come up in a fit of absolute rage it grabbed a stallion with its mouth and slammed it down on the ground, blood gushed from its mouth as it’s rib cage ruptured inwards
The two that came up the middle, we’re a small conga line of fluffies we’re running for dear life, only to be cut off. They reared up and turned around only to realize that the combine harvester next to them currently had the door being opened up by a third of the monsters, they were trapped. The two of them ran at the crowd, one ducking into the side and jumping under a set of sawhorses that supported a large piece of unfinished plywood. The first of the two Dove in and immediately began tearing into the crowd, many of the mayors were hearing their babies on their backs, with each kick of its hind legs or swipe of its forearms chirpy babies went flying like little hackysacks. The ensuing Carnage was nothing short of barbarism in its purest horn.
As the door to the combine harvester flew open, the leader of the pack got low to the ground. Harvester had been under repair, partially taking apart, with its wheels on cinder blocks. The cab had no chair in it, which left plenty of space for the mothers to make a nursery for their babies. He was face-to-face with them, blocking the only exit. The mother mares were begging it to peace its advance, to leave their poor little babies alone, begging it to come to its senses that fluffies are meant for hugs and love, but it did not care. its existence to its knowledge of learning to kill fluffies. Eat fluffies. Kill fluffy families. Kill mama fluffies, kill papa fluffies, kill fluffy babies. It did just that.
The hunter slammed his claws down, stomping and slashing at them rapidly. They’re flush and skin torn from their bodies as their skeletons collapse under the weight of each blow. The delicate, fragile musculature of each fluffy was torn through like a butter knife through a well cooked brisket. Each of the little babies was not spared, as the hunter pursued to tear them to shreds- at one point grabbing the last mare, who was quivering in fear. Biting down on her head, he whipped her back and forth, smacking her body into all of the remaining babies that had not been slaughtered yet. Using her as a cudgel. He did this until nothing remained alive in the cab, and proceeded to lap up the remains.
In the nursery, the same fate befell all of the floppies except for one. The hunter set above it, the mother of the fluffy had been dispatched, but it remained, somehow in the middle of it all he had given pause in great confusion.
“Request. Need assistance. Now”
As its fellow hunters paused they finished their work quickly and left the whimpering, partially slaughtered fluffies behind. They all paraded to the area where it was, and looked inside of the wagon. There before their brother, sat a young stallion like creature… It was rather plump and sat there with its eyes closed. It kept chirping incessantly, reaching left and right for its mother who at this point had been reduced to a thick viscous sludge in the hunter’s auto stomach. Their hearts slowed down and the cocktail of adrenaline and hormones slowed down their aggressive tendencies, allowing them all to speak clearly.
“Is this a fluffy?” It questioned in a soft but raspy voice
“I don’t know, I have not seen this type of creature before”
“Nor I have…f-16 report to our father. We need assistance with this creature.”
F-16 silently knotted and ran out of the shed, but not before stopping to put one last fluffy out of its misery, the poor thing thought it still had the luxury of escape. With a single kick, he sent it flying into the wall, its spine and the skull cracking, leaving it paralyzed and drooling. He proceeded to bolt through the doors and came up back to the command center where the doctor was. The doctor looked at him as he ran at top speed, and then skidded to a halt. With concern and confusion he kneeled down to one knee to speak to the hunter. “Something the matter? What’s wrong boy?” “Unknown. We all found a creature. Not fluffy. It confuses us. You must see.”
It got up and immediately led the doctor away, the doctor not knowing how to proceed followed it behind. “Not too fast, I’ve got bad knees!” He followed it into the barn and initially the doctor took pause to examine the wreckage of his hunter’s deeds. Dead fluffies everywhere. It was surgical. Clean. Perfect. He heard them in the back clamoring. As he marched along, F-16 trailed behind him. The other Hunters locked eyes with him as he approached them. “What’s the matter? What’s this bizarre creature that I’ve been told you found?”
He looked down in the wagon which was at waist level, and saw the poor thing. “Oh dear, I don’t think we ever exposed you to one of these” he reached in and gently picked up the stallion, its pudgy body wriggled in his hands. Sucking on one of its forearms as he pet it gently. “This might just be my fault… we never showed you these when we were raising any of you, but this is what a fluffy looks like when it has sensitive baby syndrome.” All five of them were confused. “Sensitive baby syndrome is something that happens to fluffies, when they don’t stop being babies and they grow up to be even bigger babies…this poor thing has been eating milk its whole life.” The leader of the group perked up “does this mean we are to kill it? Is it a fluffy?”
He took a quick glance at all of them, realizing the danger of what might happen. He held the sensitive baby to his chest, and could smell its body odor, which wasn’t too stinky and ubnpleasant like most fluffies. It smelled akin to that of a human baby. Perhaps a residual effect of fluffy’s DNA ancestry to make it appealing. Out of sympathy, he made a snap decision. “No. This fluffy is innocent, it’s not done anything bad, it’s not stolen any food, and it certainly hasn’t ever been a bad fluffy and chosen to be a sneaky thief like all these other fluffies you’ve killed and eaten.” The five exchanged glances and then came to a quick understanding. “Very well,” said the leader of the group. “What shall we do with them if we encounter another sensitive fluffy?” “Tell us and let us know. Then we will take them home with us and find a suitable household for them.” The doctor knew he was talking out his ass, what kind of absolute moron would want to take care of a pet that needs 24/7 around the care maintenance to stay alive? Scratch that, he raised house plants, so he knew how to take care of an organism that needed high maintenance to stay alive. “Now go about your business, if I am to understand this is just a single building on the property out of the four or five that need to be gone through today? Hmm?”
The 5 locked in and escaped the barn, leaving behind nothing but the Doctor, shreds of Love, and puddles of congealing blood. The fluffy infestation in this barn had been dealt with. He looked down at the sensitive baby. It’s cherubic body late against his with an innocence that could not be replicated by any measure of the written word. He stroked its head and watched its smooth blue fluff under his fingers as he gave it some loving pets. “All right fatty, don’t ask me why I feel sorry for you but I do. Time to take you home.” hear the chaos that was going on in the outbuilding next door, where more subsequently hidden fluffies were being rooted out and massacred. He watched as a pink unicorn was flung out the window, bisected through the waist and whimpering loudly she crawled away come up dragging her split up body behind her, torn uterus dropping undermcooked babies as she did so
“WAN DIE…WAN DIE…WAN DIE…” The doctor stood there with a smile on his face and watched as one of the hunters bolted out the door, and pounced on her, crushing down on her with the weight of it’s body. Ending her miserable existence. The doctor nodded and walked away to the station where all of the equipment had been set up. Everyone was shocked to see that he was carrying a sensitive stallion. “They I’ve never been exposed to sensitive babies so I suppose they had no idea what the hell to do with it…” The researcher looked up from her computer and smirked “and you told them not to eat it?” “You look at this thing and tell me that it deserves death.” He held it in front of her, carrying it underneath its armpits, It opened its little squinted eyes ever so gently and made a cooing noise, and then proceeded to burp in her face. “How charming, he’s a regular ladykiller.” “to hell with you, I felt bad for him. He may have The fluffy equivalent of down syndrome but that doesn’t mean he deserves to be treated poorly.” “Dr you’ve spent the last 5 years trying to develop a fluffy that is psychologically driven to slaughter its own kind, isn’t this a bit hypocritical?” he held the sbs fluffy in his arms. “It has done nothing wrong. The rest of this misbegotten species have decided to destroy the world in order to stay alive to follow some arbitrary biological demands that were programmed into them. He’s just not like them. He’s innocent. Every sbs fluffy is innocent!”
The researcher was taken aback, and simply focused on her work afterwards not knowing how to respond to the proclamation. He put the SBS fluffy in a carryout cage that had been brought along, and gave it his beanie to lay on. The farmer came along and looked at it. “…poor thing has down syndrome dunnit?” “Approximately, it suffers from a disorder called sensitive baby syndrome, we’re fluffies are born and deemed sensitive by their mothers. They never develop fully into adults…it’ll grow into adult size but it’s always going to be infantile. So whoever ends up claiming it is going to have to sit there and feed it formula all day and make sure that it can go to the bathroom normally…it’s a very Labor intensive pet.” The Farmer nodded solemnly. “Poor thang”
The first step of the operation was a rousing success. The first group had gone and killed it to their fill. They came back to the station, and gently walked into their cage, and all five laid down. The second group was ushered out of the semi truck, the crane atop the interior of the trailer lifted it off the floor and gently took it out, placing it down. The second group all got out, and were walked over to the station for instruction. As the first group was loaded back onto the trailer, the second group made a run for the woods alongside the farm. Like beads of Mercury they vanished into the thick, dead woods. The Fall Air had already warmed up quite a bit since they arrived. As the doctor sat at the station with his researcher, he looked back at the sbs fluffy. Many thoughts race through his head, none of them positive.
Far above them, a singular drone hovered silently. It was far enough above to not be noticed. It’s cameras tracking everything below and soon, it flew into the woods. As the quadcopter went through the empty airspace, its UV and IR cameras picked up exactly where the hunters were pursuing fluffies, and zoomed in on them. Picture after picture taken, scan after scan made. Every single last one being documented and memorized. Soon enough the hunt was over, and the infestation had been brought to zero.
Hunter’s lumbered their way back to the station, where they were subsequently stored on the semi truck in their cage, obediently sitting quietly as they were prepared to leave. The workers who would come along and the researcher began to break down the computer station, the tent that they had assembled, and all other equipment that had been hooked up to the first truck. As nobody in particular was watching, a singular worker pulled a USB drive off the back of the computer station, and pocketed it, nobody noticed in any way possible. And the day went on as planned.
By nightfall the trucks had docked, the cargo and equipment were disembarked and hunters taken to the paddock to be given post
-operation maintenance. Dr Vanskyock took the sensitive fluffy with him as he helped everyone unload their personal equipment. He kept the cage firmly tucked under his left arm, making sure that the poor thing didn’t get bumped around. Everything was neatly put away when the hunters were gone, you took the poor little thing out of its cage, realizing that he would never be able to wear that beanie again. He threw it away with the collapsible cage. “oh you poor little dumpling, what are we going to do with you?” He walked down the corridor to his office and sat the fluffy on his desk. He reached into his closet for an old beat up hoodie that he rarely wore on the job anymore, and wrapped the little stallion in it. “There you go, that’s all better. You get comfortable. I’ve got to make some data entries.” he did just that, typing away as his new forever chirpy did exactly what they do: chirped happily. He couldn’t help but smile at it. “I can’t believe we never exposed the boys to your kind, thank God they didn’t or else you’d be dead and eaten…”
As the Doctor had absentmindedly made wis way to his office, he’d lapped one of the workers walked by in his civilian clothes now, and headed out to his car. The young gentleman stepped outside, into the cooling night and made a beeline Street to his truck. As he made it off company property he coasted on the highway towards his home. All the while he pulled out his phone and made a quick call. He waited with the phone on speaker, as the dial tone set in.
Click “Thank you for calling Mattel bioelectronics. At the moment, all of our operators are off duty, please contact us between 7:00 a.m. Eastern standard Time and 6:00 p.m. Eastern standard Time. If you know the extension for your party please-” he effortlessly typed in a needlessly complex extension set, and waited for the reply on the other side.
“Did you get it?”
“Yes sir. Nobody ever suspected anything, they didn’t even question the packet sniffer. I have at least 4 hours worth of data. Shall we do this again or is this going to be enough?”
“Just get me the data, and I will compensate you handsomely for this and then we will discuss the details once it’s been interpreted…”
“You got it, see you tomorrow morning.”
“Likewise my good man.”
On the other side of that phone call, sat former Tiger cybertonics employee Dr Francis kent. The dim lights of the chemical factory behind him illuminated his office, casting dancing shadows on the walls and desk. The smoke from his cigarette dances through the air like a merry chorus line of harlots catching the rays of Mercury salt light. As the man sat there, he smiled contentedly. Before him on his desk set a jar. In it, set a singular specimen come up bought for the price of a King’s ransom, sat in a jar of ethyl alcohol was the specimen that would make him a fortune, labeled 216-FZ-MTBIO
The lone fuzzy pony was one of only a handful of specimens recovered from the infamous fall. And it was his, and now knowing what his competitors were doing with tiger cybertronics, everything was falling into place. It was a good time to be alive.