For the first time since she had her babies, Lilypad set foot outside of her den. Her special friend, Carrots, had left to go find nummies almost a day ago, and he still hadn’t come back. She had to find him! Typically, the forest would be very intimidating for a lone fluffy- the looming trees, bushes of thorns, “munstahs” at every turn- but Lilypad was feeling very brave. She had her babies, and with babies, nothing can go wrong. Her babies were Froggy, a green filly like her mother, and Beet, a dark-orange colt.
Lilypad sat her babies on the solid dirt clearing a few feet away from her burrow, and looked around. She didn’t see Carrots anywhere! She called out, "Speshul fwen? Spessshhhuulllll fwwwweeeennndddd???!!?"
There was no reply.
The young mother became incredibly frustrated, to the point of tears! She has looked absolutely everywhere! Lilypad cried, “Huuuu!!! HHUUUUUUU!!! Wiwwypat nu knu wha’ tu dooooo!!! Huuuu!!! Wan babbehs tu haff daddeh! Wan speshul fwen!!! Huuuu!”
Froggy and Beet began chirping and crying, the sound of their own mother’s wailing hurting their sensitive ears. She was too busy wallowing in her own misery to notice her babies writhing in the dirt, attempting to block out the noise with their stubby little hooves. Their mother only stopped when a rustling from a nearby bush caught her attention. She looked up hopefully, and asked, “Speshul fwen~?”
What emerged from the bushes was the ugliest, fattest, most repulsive fluffy she had ever seen. A fuck-up. A genetic anomaly. More horse than hamster. A bulky mass of wobbling pink fur that could easily kill and eat most North American rodents that were dumb enough to try and bite him. The stench of a recently-devoured skunk lingered on his patchy, bloody fur. The only other animal that had ever claimed victory over him were the ones too small to fight- he was entirely infested with parasites. Little black worms swam in his baby-blue eyes. Maggots copulated in a raw spot on his back. His cock, which he dragged behind him on the forest floor at all times, practically had it’s own ecosystem of parasitic life thriving off of his overworked balls, consuming his semen like ichor, burrowing under the leathery skin of his sack. He did not have a name. This fluffy had been alone his entire life. The mare that birthed him bled to death immediately after, and he enfed his littermates to death as a chirpie. A human would later call this fluffy “Conky”. Conky lurched towards Lilypad, and in-between his heavy breathes, he managed to utter, “Heehee… Mawe wan’… Hugfhuff… Be speshul fwens?”
Lilypad wasn’t too phased by this new fluffy. He was a little different, sure, but she knew not to judge a fluff by his fur! Any other fluffy might be scared of her special friend, Carrots. He only had one eye, after a birdie-munstah attacked him, but he was very nice… Lilypad decided to make friends with this new fluffy!
“Tee-hee! Nu siwwy, Wiwwypat aweady hab speshul fwen! Jus’ wooking fow’ him…”
Conky was annoyed by this rejection. Not that he cared about consent from mares (or stallions), but it would make things a bit more complicated. Grumbling he asked, “Hmmph… Yu wook weiwd… Nebbah see a fwuffy wike yu befowe… Wai tummy so faw fwom gwound?”
Of course, he had seen a bowl-fluffy before, and he had used this trick many times in the past. Fluffy subspecies were programmed to excitedly show off their special features to anyone who asked about them. Conky needed her on his back; he didn’t exactly have speed on his side. Lilypad’s eyes lit up when he asked.
“Fwuffy am boww-fwuffy! Hab speshul tummie-boww su can gu swimmies wit’ babbehs! Wooky!”
Lilypad rolled over on her back, and picked up her still-crying babies in her mouth, setting them in her tummy-bowl. The feeling of Lilypad’s tummy under their hooves instantly soothed them, and the babies began cooing and giggling, rolling around in her bowl. Lilypad looked to her new friend, who was slowly lurching towards her. “Weawwy coow, wight?”
Instead of responding to the proud mother, Conky simply grunted and mounted Lilypad, his weight pinning her under the pink monster. He was inside of her before she could ask, “Wuh’ am doin’?”
She screamed bloody-murder, futilely attempting to resist the rape. When wriggling didn’t work, Lilypad attempted to appeal to Conky’s moral side. “NUUUU!!! HUUU!!! ENFIES IS ONWY FOW SPESHUL FWENS!!! NU WAN SPESHUL HUGGIES FWOM YUUUU!!! NU MA’E ENFIES IN FWONNA BABBEHS!!! TUU WITTOW!!! WHA’ BOUT’ BABBEHS??? WHA’ BOUT’ BABBEHS???”
What about her babies? They were pissing him off. They were back to chirping and crying, while he was tearing apart their mom’s cunt. Stupid babies… Conky stopped humping and looked down to her tummy-bowl. The wailing foals were shitting and stomping their hooves. It gave Conky an idea. He delivered a swift, hard hoofsie into Lilypad’s tummy, pulverizing Froggy. Lilypad was too busy vomiting to cry out, Babbeh!
Conky got back to humping now that the crying has stopped. Beet, the other baby, was in an instinctual stealth-mode, burying his face in Lilypad’s fur. After 30 agonizing seconds, Conky was on edge. “Huffhuffgh… Uh ohhh~” he teased, “Gunn ma’e… Huffgh… GUUUD FEEEEWS NAOOOO ~”
Conky let out a massive, maggot-infested load into the now-catatonic Lilypad. The parasites began gnawing away at her already- bleeding organs. After catching his breath, Conky dismounted the bowl-fluffy, lifted his tail, and filled her tummy-bowl with worm-filled shit, burying Beet. “Heehee… Stupie poopie babbeh…”, Conky muttered to himself, trotting away happily.
Carrots had finally found his way home! After a crazy adventure with lots of danger and close-calls, he had gathered enough nummies to last his family all snow-time! Approaching his den, he expected to be greeted by his special friend and their babies, but all that was waiting for him was a lifeless pile of green fur. Slowly approaching the shit-covered corpse, he spotted one of his babies, Beet! But something was wrong… He was covered in poopies, and wormies… His hind-leggies weren’t working… Carrots picked up his baby in his hooves and began licking away the filth. Carrots cried to himself, “Huuu… Wha’ happen… Babbehs… Speshul fwen…”
A rustling from the bushes. A pink blob. A guttural question. “Heehee… Stawwion wan’… Hugfhuff… Be speshul fwens?”