This is the first story I’m writing here, the idea popped into my head and I just could not resist it. I’m still getting the hang of things here, so please bear with me if I mess something up, okay?
I wake up, get out of bed, and throw open the curtains to see the start of a perfect day: clear, sunny, warm. I grab my phone and play one of my favorite “morning ritual” songs.
“Sun is shining in the sky, there ain’t a cloud in sight…”
I sing along as I go about my routine: getting dressed, brushing my teeth, dropping a deuce, and then I realize I can hear another sound, under the music, coming from outside.
Fluffies.
“Aw, shit. Here we go again.” I mutter to myself, turning off the music and going outside. I live by myself in a nice city that unfortunately has recently gained a significant feral fluffy problem. I’ve had a few invasions, usually the smarty starts talking shit, then I just stomp on him with my big heavy boots, and then the herd usually leaves without a fuss. I patch whatever hole in the fence they crawled in through, but then another fucking herd finds another fucking way in. This time, I have a different idea, a way to deter any future invasions. Or rather, Vlad Dracula had the idea several centuries ago, and I’m gonna gleefully steal it from him.
I step into the garage and retrieve from the back of my pickup truck, a few bundles of long, thin, but sturdy, sharp wooden stakes, brand new, only purchased them yesterday, and from there I make my way to the garden, where sure enough, the herd is babbling and devouring anything the last herds didn’t already eat. As I get closer, I notice something.
They’re all unicorns. And they all seem to be male. Weird.
Finally, the herd notices me, and, like one fluffy, they all turn around to face me. And then they all start yelling at me. Or rather, talking at me as loud as they can in their squeaky little voices.
“Dummeh hoomin! Dis smawty hewd wand nao!”
“Gib bestest smawties sketties an weave!”
“Ow smawties aww gib sowwy poopies!”
I have to take a step back and process just what the fuck I’m seeing. Then I realize it, as a wicked, terrible grin spreads over my face.
“Wait… it’s all smarties?”
I’ve found the perfect pile of fluffy little shitstains to try my new idea on.
This is going to be fun.
Aaaand that’s it. I can’t make any promises that I’ll be continuing this story right away, or at all, I’ll probably be writing a few other short stories, you know, spitballing ideas, and deciding later which ones will be continued. And it won’t be all abuse, I’ll try to do some hugbox stuff too.
