Most fluffy stories involve a human whose entire life is functionally consumed by a walking toy. Whether it’s to torture the damn thing, or to pamper it and give it the idyllic childhood the owner never had, there are thousands of narratives where a human with seemingly unlimited resources plays second fiddle to a technicolor pony with bowel-control problems.
This is not one of those stories.
Salvatore was a pretty well adjusted guy in his early twenties. He had plenty of friends, had steady employment, was going to college, and even had a girlfriend. He also had a fluffy. The fluffy was named Michelangelo. That doesn’t necessarily make sense up front, but that’s because he already had a cat named Donatello, and he wanted his pets names to be thematically consistent. Besides, he found it funny as hell to hear a fluffy call itself Michelangelo.
The cat was a gift from his girlfriend, who Sal figured was trying to test the waters of a more serious relationship. She kept referring to the thing as their “fur baby”. The cat was very chill, just a regular male shorthair cat, black with white trim. The cat did fine for the long periods of the day that Sal was gone. It’s a cat. Food, water, litterbox. Easy peasy.
The fluffy came a few months after the cat. Sal had never seen one before. He didn’t have any sisters, and he didn’t watch girls cartoon shows. His town was not one that was devastated by feral fluffies, and he didn’t live near or drive past a FluffMart in his day-to-day routine. He knew about them, of course, but they were not a big part of his life. Until his neighbor posted a sign saying her mare had a litter of foals and then immediately passed away tragically. He would later discover the mare tripped and fell downstairs running towards the smell of spaghetti being cooked in the kitchen.
He didn’t feel bad at all about laughing at that.
So his neighbor made some posters and says she has some cute little foals that are just barely walking and talking. Sal thinks his neighbor is cute and figures it might be good to get on her good side in case things with his current girlfriend don’t work out. Sal is a very smart man. Also, Sal already has the things a fluffy will need. Food, water, litterbox. Easy peasy. He picked out an orange-ish colt and took it home.
This would be the part where most stories devolve into madness, and the protagonist discovers he’s in way over his head. Or the fluffy turns smarty, or demands babies, or some other behavioral nightmare. Sal figured he got pretty lucky because his fluffy was incredibly low maintainence. Right away, the fluffy and the cat became friends. The fluffy would follow the cat around and talk to it (at it) throughout the day. Sal did end up getting seperate litterboxes for each pet. It took a few days for the fluffy to figure out the litterbox, but then there were no further accidents. The colt initially complained about eating kibble, as it’s teeth were pretty soft. Sal soaked the kibble in milk for the first few weeks, and there were no further problems.
Raising a fluffy is really easy, as it turns out.
Several months pass and Sal gets home from work on a regular weekday night. It’s pretty late, and he had classes that morning as well. He hadn’t seen his pets since breakfast and it’s well past dinner time. He double checks that the automatic kibble feeders had provided dinner for his little ones. He grabs a beer and flops on the couch. Within moments he has a needy cat on one side and a chatterbox fluffy on the other. He puts his beer on the coffee table and uses one hand to rub each pet.
“You guys are so good while I’m gone. Thanks for being such awesome little guys. I’ll try to make more time this weekend, okay? Maybe get some new toys or something…”
The cat purred, enjoying the soft pats and scratches. The orange colt looked up at Sal and said
“Ams jus gwad daddeh am homesies fow dawkie timesies. Nu wike dawkies and wen duh nu nice munstah ams in da housie…”
Sal couldn’t quite wrap his head around what Michelangelo was saying. Fluffspeak is already somewhat confusing, and annoying, and his fluffy wasn’t exactly a genius to begin with. He rubbed the little colts head before replying:
“Yeah, well, I could always try to be a better ‘daddeh’ for you, no matter what time of day it is. And you know monsters aren’t real, bud. We’ve talked about this.”
Michelangelo cooed happily and jabbered softly as he was patted. The pets were happy to see their owner. The beer was tasty and the television show was appropriately violent and sexual. Life was good.
Sal stayed up too late that night, figuring his bullshit elective morning class didn’t require all of his brainpower anyway. It was completely dark in his townhouse. He was on the main floor, in the living room, near the front door. The small rectangular room lead towards a galley-style kitchen, and the back door. A small concrete slab comprised his entire backyard. A narrow flight of stairs led from the living room to the second floor. Two bedrooms with a bathroom in between. The “master” bedroom was maybe ten percent larger, and overlooked the front parking lot. The guest bedroom had a view of the grassy common area in his townhouse village. This was the “saferoom” for his fluffy, and also had his cats litterbox and cat toys.
Sal hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights when he got home. He was sitting in darkness, other than the light of the large TV. Donatello and Michelangelo purred and cooed respectively, in their sleep.
Sal wasn’t quite ready for sleep, but he was ready for bed. He texted his girlfriend, Amy, and bugged her for some nudes. He figured if she was still up, he could chat with her while he rubbed one out. He began to sit up from the couch, folding the reclining footrest. The cat and fluffy both stirred, one complaining much more than the other. He walked up the stairs. The fluffy quietly asked for uppies, wanting to be carried. Sal ignored him. He figured a flight of stairs was good exercise for the fluff. The cat didn’t have any problems with it.
At the top of the stairs, Sal opened the baby gate and waited for Michelangelo to make it through. He closed the gate behind the tiny horse. He then opened another gate, in the doorway of the saferoom. A small dim nightlight provided the only source of illumination. Tall and eerie shadows from the cat climbing towers were cast against the walls. The silhouettes of the familiar shapes were distorted, angular and weird. The only window was permanently affixed with blackout curtains after a near fatal accident where the fluffy tried to jump onto the windowsill like the cat.
Sal had felt a little bad laughing about that.
Michelangelo huuhuu’ed about the dark, as he did most nights. Sal told him to be a brave fluffy and to get some sleep. Michelangelo trotted quickly into a plexiglass enclosure that served as his nest. It was part of a fast food chain Play Place that someone had been giving away for free online. It was a bright blue plastic tube with clear windows on the sides. The tube led to a red plastic square with curved clear plexiglass on three walls and the ceiling. Michelangelo had dragged several blankets and stuffed animals inside. It was pretty cute.
Sal wished the fluffy goodnight. Michelangelo seemed extra skittish tonight, asking if his kitty friend could spend the night with him. Sal usually left the saferoom door open, and let the cat jump over the baby gate and sleep wherever it wanted. Typically, that would be the foot of his bed. Sal hesitated for a moment.
“I don’t know, man. If I close the door with Donny in here, he might just meow all night and keep us both up.” Sal said softly. The fluffy huuhuu’ed and spoke to itself about how his kitty friend was the best kitty friend, and how he would be nice to the kitty and give it lots of love and hugs.
“What’s the matter, pal? Why are you spooked tonight?”
“Huu huu… Mi-coo-wan-ge-wow nu wike wen munstah du scawy fings at dawky nite times” the fluffy began, confusing its owner. “Nu wike wen wawkies and tawkies wen Mi-coo-wan-ge-wow am twying to hidesies an sweep an am aww awone…”
Sal stood still and tried to make sense of what his fluff was saying. He didn’t like… what exactly? Whatever.
“Okay bud, whatever you say. Hey, I’ll keep the door closed and have Donny sleep in here with you, but if he really wants out I’ll open the door, okay?” Sal picked up the cat and gently tossed it into the saferoom. There were plenty of soft surfaces to sleep on, as well as two litterboxes and fresh water. Sal closed the door and listened for a moment, making sure the cat didn’t immediately scratch or meow in protest. All he heard was the soft huuhuu’ing of his tiny equine.
He turned and walked the short distance to his bedroom. He didn’t bother flipping a light on, as he was going to bed anyways. He flopped on his bed and plugged his cellphone into a long charging cable. He had gotten a few texts from his girlfriend. She had pouted that he had woken her up by texting so late. She chastised him for staying up so late when he had school the following day. He playfully told her he was on the fence about skipping class in the morning. He told her to come over, and they could have some fun together. She was playing coy, telling him his studies should take priority over her. He responded that he would rather spend the morning with her, naked in bed, sucking and fucking each other to their hearts content. She responded with some eye roll emojis and called him a typical male. “What about our fur baby?” he replied, smiling inwardly at the obvious ploy, hoping to tug her heartstrings enough to get her to visit their shared cat.
She replied she had a feeling Sal had a different type of pussy on his mind.
Sal laughed out loud at that. She wasn’t wrong.
“C’mon babe, send me something tonight. I really wanna see you.”
“Well, you can either have pictures tonight, or the real thing in the morning. What do you choose?”
Sal managed to resist the urge to send the meme of the little Mexican girl (why not both?) and instead tells his girlfriend he left his door unlocked and she should let herself in when she gets over in the morning. She said she would be quiet coming in, and would slip into bed without waking him. The pair wish each other a goodnight. Sal doesn’t even bother with scrolling his various social media apps, he’s tired enough at this point to close his eyes. He’s asleep within minutes. A deep, restful, dreamless sleep.
He was awoken by a loud bang, coming from his saferoom.
It was a dull thud, like something falling over. Something big. At first he thinks he may have dreamt it. The house is quiet now. Sal’s heart was racing. He listened for Michelangelo, he figures the fluffy will likely scream or shit, or both, and tell him what the fuck is going on.
Silence.
He got out of bed. His eyes were fully adjusted to the dark. The only light was from the window behind him. He was looking down a dark hallway, with a closed door at the end. A set of stairs descended into pitch blackness.
He crept forward, some primitive part of his brain telling him not to make a noise just yet. Not to call out. To listen. He crept forward again. Soon he stood facing the closed door, his back to the staircase. He felt uneasy, like he was standing at the edge of a great height. Like his stairs led somewhere other than his living room. Like he was somewhere he didn’t belong.
Like he was in danger.
He stood at the door for what felt like hours. He listened. He couldn’t hear anything. Not at first. Then he heard… something. Something soft. Rhythmic. It was a familiar sound. Breathing.
Heavy breathing.
His nerves broke. Sal turned on the hallway lights and looked around frantically. He was alone. He looked down the stairs, everything was normal. He took a breath and balled his hands into fists. He pushed open the door to the saferoom. Light from the hallway spilled into the room. Sal stood in the doorway, backlit, giving his eyes a moment to adjust.
The room was trashed. The cat towers were knocked over, hard enough to leave holes in the drywall. The litterboxes were overturned, litter and turds were scattered about. The water dishes had been flipped over. Blankets and stuffed animals were strewn about haphazardly.
Sal looked around for his cat and his fluffy. He stepped into the center of the room so he could see into the enclosure. Both the cat and the fluff were inside. The cat looked terrified. It was in a corner, pressed back against the wall, trying to be as small as possible. Ears pinned back against its skull. Claws out, eyes wide. It was looking straight up, through the clear plexiglass bubble ceiling.
The fluffy didn’t look much better. Flat on it’s belly, legs out to the side in an uncomfortable looking angle. His face and muzzle were pressed into the cats rump in a desperate attempt to hide its face. It wasn’t even huuhuu’ing. It wasn’t doing anything other than shaking. The smell of shit and piss wafted to Sal’s nose as he lightly reached out and tapped the plexiglass bubble.
“Hey guys, it’s me-”
The fluffy picked its head up and looked Sal in the eyes. It looked absolutely terrified. Wide eyes locked on Sal before looking over his left shoulder. The fluffy let out the first SCREEE that Sal had ever heard.
It was looking at the doorway.
Sal spun around while taking a step further into the room, creating distance between himself and the doorway. It took him a moment to realize what he was seeing. He had never turned on the lights in the saferoom, the only source of light came from the hallway through the open door.
Something was standing in the doorway.
Before Sal could even scream, the lights in the hallway were turned off. Sal was plunged in darkness again. A second later, the door to the room slammed shut with a tremendous bang. The silence that followed was deafening. Sal was paralyzed with fear. His feet felt like lead, his heart pounded in his chest. His panic-stricken wide eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness. The feeling of dread and danger was indescribable.
Worst of all, Sal didn’t know if the intruder was in the room with him.
Sal took tiny steps backwards, careful not to trip over the blankets and other pet paraphernalia. His back pressed against the wall, the noise of his cotton t-shirt rubbing against the interior drywall was loud and unmistakable. Sal knew he had given away his position in the darkness.
He heard the door to the room open, slowly.
He had never known fear like this. He had always imagined he would be braver in a “fight or flight” scenario. He couldn’t think clearly. His brain was reduced to a reptilian nub, the words “you are going to die” blaring in repeated alarm. He was frozen solid.
His hands and arms shook violently as he reached into his pocket. He grabbed his cell phone. He turned the screen on and pointed it away from himself. The dim light revealed only a few feet of the room. He needed to see more. He needed the flashlight. He pointed the screen towards his face out of muscle memory. He immediately cursed himself for effectively destroying his night vision. He pressed and held the power button.
“Hey Siri, turn the flashlight-”
Something ripped the cellphone from his hand.
Something freezing cold, and razor sharp. Sal gasped in pain has the back of the fingers on his right hand were flayed open. He tried to step backwards, but has back was already against the wall. His confused limbs tangled, and he fell to the floor. He screamed nonsensically as his hands and arms flew up in the darkness in a desperate attempt to protect his face.
Fear was in full control. Sal began to scamper on his hands and knees towards the doorway. He bumped into the overturned cat towers, screaming in panic as he continued to crawl. His palms dragged across the gritty cat litter that had been spilled on the carpet. He felt like he was crawling for an entire lifetime before his head finally smacked into the wall.
Tracing his hands upwards, he continued to tap and smack at the wall until his hand found the familiar plastic rectangular light switch. He turned the light on and bolted to his feet, hands clenched, certain a painful death would be his immediate reward. He looked around the room frantically for a threat.
He was alone.
He bolted to a corner, desperate to have his back against something safe. He spun and looked around the room. The closet doors were open. They hadn’t been before. The door to the room was open. The hallway was dark, pitch black, as if the light from the room could not penetrate into the shadows beyond the doorway.
Sal looked around the trashed room for something he could use as a weapon. That’s when he noticed the blood. A thick trail of blood and shit led from the plastic enclosure towards the door of the room. In the faint light of the hallway, Sal could see the blood trail led downstairs. Sal looked inside the plastic enclosure and nearly vomited. A combination of blood, shit, fluff and cat fur coated the inside of the plexiglass bubbles.
The fluff and the cat were both gone.
Sal stepped towards the window. Weaponless and without a way to call for help, Sal decided he would break open the window and climb out, or scream or-
The sound he heard made every hair on his body stand up. It was an animal noise, guttural and fearful. He had never heard anything like it before, but he knew instinctively what it was. Something alive was being hurt. He turned his head towards the stairs. The sound was coming from his living room, from the darkness at the bottom of the stairs.
Sal found his anger. He screamed into the void.
“Get the fuck out of my house! Touch my pets again and I will fucking kill you.” The anger felt good. It gave him courage. He continued to shout, hoping a neighbor would hear. “I’m gonna fuck you up, you fucking piece of shit!”
The awful sound returned, pained and distant. Sals heart dropped as he knew he was listening to Donatello. He sounded like he was in agony. The horrific meowl was followed by a plea, in a soft voice that Sal recognized.
“huu huu pwease nu huwt kitteh fwend… ams bestest kitteh fwend, nu wans fwend gu fowevah sweepies…”
Sal began to see red as he stepped into the hallway. He turned on the light and began to descend the staircase. Whatever was downstairs owed him a cellphone, a cat, and a tiny orange horse. It was now or never.
Sal was down seven of the fourteen stairs. Behind him, at the top of the stairs, the saferoom door slammed closed. Sal jolted, once again paralyzed with fear. He looked over his shoulder, the welcoming light of the upstairs beckoning him to return to safety. He turned around and looked back down stairs. The complete and foreboding darkness of the main floor, and the unknown entity that awaited him.
"huu huu, nu wuwwies kitteh fwend, huggies wiww make ou aww bettah…
The stairwell lights went out. The entire house was plunged into darkness. At the top of the stairs, Sal could hear footsteps. Something large was moving very quickly. Directly towards him. Sal panicked and ran down the stairs.
His foot hit the wood floor at the bottom of the carpeted stairs. He slipped in something wet and warm, nearly losing his balance. Whatever was chasing him was hot on his heels, the terrifying rhythmic thumps of angry footsteps descending the stairs. Sal turned to the front of the small house and ran. His blood was ice in his veins. The terrified screams and pleas of his fluffy filled the room.
“DADDEH! WUN! IT AMS WIGHT BEHIND OU DADDEH HUU HUU MUNSTAH AMS GUNNA GET OU AND GIVE WOWSTEST HUWTIES AN FOWEVAH SWEEPIES”
Sal felt like he was in a dream, no longer in control of his body. He knew he wasn’t going to make it. He knew that opening the door would take too long. When he stopped to open the door, the… thing would catch him. And it would kill him. He hoped he was wrong. His hand found his doorknob. It twisted and pulled. He had to stop slightly to let the door open. Just for a split second.
And that’s all it took.
The door opened and Amy was standing on the doorstep. She had just been about to open the door. Before she could say anything, Sal saw her eyes. Her beautiful blue eyes. She was smiling, for a second, surprised that he opened the door. Her beautiful smile. She was looking over his shoulder. Her beautiful blue eyes widened in horror, like she was looking at an actual monster, and she covered her beautiful no-longer-smiling mouth before letting out a visceral scream.
Sal felt something grab the back of his neck, icy cold talons ripping into his flesh. He was pulled backwards and thrown into the darkness of his house like a ragdoll. The door was slammed shut, and Sal could hear the locks being engaged. He tumbled towards the center of the room.
“Huu huu ams so sowwy daddeh, Mi-coo-wan-ge-wow ams twying to sabe ou buh nu cans feew weggies… huu huu…”
Sal lay motionless on the floor. To his surprise, he heard what sounded like a meow. Donatello’s meow. Before he could comprehend that turn of events, Sal heard a door open. It wasn’t the front door. Or the back door. The sound came from between his living room and his kitchen.
There wasn’t a door between his living room and his kitchen.
Sal felt something grab his ankle and begin to drag him. He was dragged towards a wall but then… went through it. He couldn’t comprehend where he was, his mental map of his home suddenly and completely invalidated.
It was too dark to see anything. He was turned abruptly, and was being pulled downwards. His hands fruitlessly searched for purchase to stop his abduction. He was no longer on wooden floor, he was on dirt. Cold wet dirt. All around him. He was being dragged down. Down a tunnel behind a door that shouldn’t exist. He was being dragged to an earthen cave beneath his home.
“Huu huu… pwease weggies comes back su can sabe daddeh… huu huu…”
Donatello meowed again.
Sal screamed.