Sequel to Venus in Furs
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Watching her darling little microfluffies play in a small play area that clashed with the furniture in her otherwise tastefully decorated loft, Reine couldn’t help but smile. They were pretty things, weren’t they? From the finest breeder, they could easily win awards in any showing and were pampered beyond belief. Watching as Ruby ran back and fourth through a brightly colored tunnel before being ambushed and playfully tackled by Jade, she gave a tiny sigh of contentment. To soon be ruined by the interruption of her visitor.
Armand. Armando? Mm, something fake. A typical pretty boy, tall and tan, a way too wide smile that couldn’t be any less than fake. She should know: Plenty of fake smiles came from her on any given day. Just another vacant-eyed idiot to warm her bed at night, one that would inevitably babble on about day trading or…eugh…cryptocurrencies.
“Why do you even like those little shit hamsters? They’re fucking disgusting.” Her guest interrupted her calm with that, quite brazen considering he had been unwelcome ever since she’d sidled out of bed for an espresso and cigarette.
Diamond chirped in immediately, poking up from the play area and giving a concerned waggle of his teensy little tail. “Mummah! He am say bad wowd! Bad wowd mummah!”
Reine nodded. “I know, darling. He’s hopelessly crass.” Her eyes wandered over to the man, a clove cigarette burning down to it’s black filtered being brought up to her lips for one final pull. “Please, leave. You’ve served your purpose.”
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After Armand or whatever his name was had grumbled a bit, gotten dressed, and finally departed she went about the process of the day. Handwashing her micros came first, of course. Reine could absolutely not stand dirty things. When they were foals, small as they were, they absolutely hated getting baths and it was a delicate process at that. These days they were far more accustomed to it, the three siblings all splishing around in a narrow tray of warm water which had been infused with an herbal shampoo. None of that stuff from Hasbio which could blind them or cause their skin to break out, no. Something from a special fluffy boutique because the best needed the best.
The micros closed their eyes as she worked shampoo into their manes, gently doused it away with several small dishes of water. Brushed out, no chance of little kinks or knots for her little ones. Watching as Jade grabbed onto an appropriately sized rubber ducky for micros, Reine couldn’t help but laugh as she squeaked it rapidly and puffed her cheeks out.
“Time for the blow-dryer.” They were each helped out, placed onto a towel after getting the worst of the water wiped away with a handcloth. Turning the blow-dryer onto the most gentle of settings, the trio stood there patiently as the warm arm blew over them.
“Dank yew mummah ‘fo bestest pwettiest. Yew am bestest mummah!” Ruby said with a great deal of enthusiasm, rushing over to give huggies to one of her fingers as she set the blow-dryer away.
“And -you- are the one of the best fluffies in the world.” Lifting the micros from the kitchen counter, she pressed a kiss to each of their silky smooth heads. They giggled and scampered away to play after being let back down to the floor.
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As the micros goofed around in their play area, Reine would walk to a corner of the loft where multiple waist-height chests and a wooden storage case awaited. It wouldn’t look so out of place in a city full of artists and the like, aside from the heavy locks on each. Retrieving the keys, she would undo the lock of one of the chests, rummaging around within. A plastic tarp was tugged out, neatly unraveled on the floor. Each corner was carefully pressed out so there wasn’t a wrinkle in the material, the woman placing small weights so that it wouldn’t curl back up. The next items to be pulled out were two folding aluminum trays. They were locked into a standing position, placed in a slanted position just out of reach of the storage case which seemed to be the focal object in this area.
Another chest was unlocked, various tools being brought out from within. A vial of medicine with an accompanying syringe, a metal-ringed sheath with barbs that curved inward, an incredibly sharp pair of medical shears, and a small ribspreader. Taking off her clothes and neatly folding them, she’d once more bend down to one of the tool chests and retrieve a leather apron. Diamond stopped playing and pointed to his owner.
“Am see mummah’s nu-nus! Eeeee!” He covered his eyes with his hooves and she’d quickly get the smooth material tied up and in place.
“Sorry, baby. You can open your eyes now.” Diamond peeked out from behind one hoof and went right back to play, the woman crossing across the room and stopping beside her record cabinet, bending down and humming as fingertips fluttered across many sleeves. Finally she found one which struck her fancy, popping back up and getting it onto the player. Fixing the needle in place she glided back over to the main storage cabinet. The micros were dancing and bopping around with the music, they wouldn’t be paying attention to what she was doing. Key sliding into the wooden case that had for now been shuttered away, she opened it up and watched her newest pretty thing slide out.
When the doors of the cabinet were opened it would activate a platform on rollers, neatly sliding the item on display out to the open air. It was a fluffy stallion, with the most darling red fur. His blue mane and tail were a bit garish even to her tastes, but she had to admit: Even it had a certain amount of charm.
The fluffy’s limbs were bound painfully against it’s body with a series of expertly knotted ropes, the flesh where the ropes sank in through it’s fur horribly chaffed and swollen. A catheter with an accompanying bag was affixed to it, which she would remove with small hums along with the music. Desperation clung in the creature’s eyes, it’s dried and cracked lips stretched against a steel bit clenched between it’s teeth and done up with a harness stretching along it’s head.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Toots?” She asked. One more layer of humilation on a mountain of many. His name was Craig. Who named a fluffy…Craig? Mr. Toots was a cute name though that clearly bothered him to no end. Unstrapping the harness and plucking the bit from his mouth, the fluffy stared up to her.
“Weggies huwties…poopie pwace huwties…nu wan be smawty nu more. Cw…Mistah Toots nu wan.” He pleaded to her, dried out tongue hanging out like a sponge from his mouth. The reason why his ass hurt? He’d been plugged up tight during the stay in her little cabinet. Reine fixed him with a look of mock pity, shaking her head.
“And who was the one who threatened to give my little babies special huggies? That was you. I love stupid men, but there’s a line…” Hefting the fluffy up she would snug the other harness with it’s cruel looking cage up over his hips, the cage securely notched up against the furry pouch where the catheter had been.
“Nu wan be smawty! Nu am smawty! Nu wan enfies!” He pleaded, though his fate had already been decided ever since accosting her in Central Park.
“Oh?” The syringe and vial of medicine was brought up, Reine drawing out some of the viscous liquid without really carrying for the dosage. Honestly? A bit of an overdose may liven things up. Holding one of his bound legs, she’d sink the needle in against his fur and inject him. The stallion squealed with pain.
“Buwny huwties! Nu wan buwny huwties! Nu wan munstah mummah! Pwease wet fwuffy go!”
“Fluffies are toys, and I’m playing.” Dropping a hand to one of the trays and lacing her fingers against the grip of the medical shears, she brought the tool to bear so the fluffy could view it. Snipping at the air and satisfied with the clean sound of metal against metal. Dragging the thin blades up against one of his cheeks, the stallion whimpered.
“Nu huwties. Am…am be gud fwuffy.” Fear wracked the stallion and if it weren’t for one thing, he’d likely be pissing all over the tarp laid out on the floor. That thing being the medicine she’d injected him with was causing him to achieve an erection. No, not achieve. It was actually quite impressive for a fluffy.
“Nu-nu stick! Nu! Pwease nu!” Mr Toots, formerly Craig of course, pleaded with his own boner now. There wouldn’t be any relief: He expanded into the cage fitted around him, the inward-facing spikes sinking along his length.
“EEEEE! SCREEEEEE!” As he screamed and rattled against his rope bindings, she bent down to get a better look. It wasn’t an exact science but one of the spikes had slipped right in against his urethra, bent at an awful angle and pricked out further along. Fairly small droplets of blood began to pitter-patter against the surface of the cabinetry he was placed on, followed by snaking trails that trickled down.
“Oh Mr. Toots. Does it hurt?” She asked in a sing-song faux pity voice, pulling a frown and tapping the tip of her scissors against his chest. “Don’t worry. I know how to fix a broken heart.”
With a practiced hand she moved the blades of her shears apart, sank the bottom blade into his soft underside. Finding a good angle, she began to slice right through fur and skin. Mr Toots continued screaming, a froth somehow working at his otherwise dehydrated mouth. Shaking, bound legs straining against the ropes. There was some small part of his brain that that he could still get away.
“WEGGIES! HEWP CWAIG! NEE’ WUN A-A-AWAY!” He had begun hiccuping miserably at the end, only barely able to squeak the completed word out.
“Your name is Mr. Toots.” The incision at his chest had been completed, flaps of fur hanging off his body and glistening in the light with added viscera. Taking her shears and dragging them down, she’d press the tip right at the furry sack that containing his testicles. Wriggling around and applying just a small amount of force.
“Nu! SPECIAW WUMPS NU!” His eyes bulged out as she indifferent steel of her shears slipped right through his flesh, nudged up against the first obstacle it met.
“Say your name.” Reine murmured, prick-poking her tool against his testicle.
“MISTAH TOOTS AM MISTAH TOOTS PWEASSSEEE NUUUU!” A thick chain of pure white spittle fell down to his chin with the desperate plea. With a quick jab, she obliterated the troubling little thing. Yanking back and slicking the cabinetry with a fresh coat of blood, she sighed.
“See? That wasn’t hard. Now let’s fix you up.” Setting the shears aside from the moment it was time to take up the ribspreader. Neat little devices, and this one had been bought direct from a company selling fluffy medical equipment. There was a proper tool for every job after all. Notching the device together so that it was perfectly aligned, Reine began to work it apart in small increments. The site which had been slit open with her shears spread further apart like a big red gaping yawn, ribs cracking as she forced them off to the side.
At this point the stallion was beyond words. Huffing, puffing, intelligible screeches. On occasion there were peeps and cheeps. Perhaps even a ‘mumman, wan mummah’ sprinkled in there.
“You’re too old for your mother. Honestly, it’s a little embarrassing.” Peering into the fluffy’s chest cavity, she marveled at the sight. Glistening organs. Pale pinks and purples. Strange artifacts of flesh. Pretty, too. The way his lungs expanded, filled with air, deflated. The beginning of it’s digestive track just barely visible, almost greasy looking. But that’s not what she cared about most.
“Oh. Ooohhhh poor pretty boy.” Two fingers went out to stroke gently against his heart. Rapidly pumping in fear. A constant flex, an uneasy rhythm, one that if she were to strain her ears enough perhaps could even hear. It was hot and wet, tougher than you’d ever think something a fluffy could possess.
“Pwease…pwease nu wan fowebba…sweepies…” Looking to her with eyes made bleak by dire pain and dehydration, it was a miracle that tears could even form in there. With her free hand, she brushed those little tears away. They were too cute.
“Do you feel this?” She asked, squeezing well-manicured nails down against his heart. The organ didn’t actually have many nerves so a light touch wouldn’t be enough. Raking her nails down against it was enough to bring a fresh wave of panicked pleas though. How did it feel? She wondered. It had to be indescribable. To have something so personal toyed with like that.
“Mummah, mummah. Wan mummah. ‘Nee miwkies….” Mr Toots began to rave deliriously, eyes going in all directions. Reine pouted. He wouldn’t respond now. This was over. Clamping her nails down fully, she held the heart in her palm so that it couldn’t beat. It tried to, of course. Swelling with blood that would never be circulated. Growing hotter and tenser against her prying fingers until finally the stallion bucked slightly, coughed up several swells of spittle, dropped his head. Relaxing her hand, she caressed the now dead tissue before turning away from the scene. The micros were all still playing happily, never the wiser at what had gone on over here.
It was time to clean up and go out for breakfast. Playing with her toys always brought on an appetite.
