Beep…tick! Beep…tick! Beep…tick!
The strange, Geiger-counter like device repeated the same warning again and again, unheeded. With experience, the need for such equipment became unnecessary. Eventually, the unaugmented human eye could spot these things without issue.
The anomaly was visible, if just barely, but when moving at speed or when not watching carefully it was impossible to notice. Even with experience and elevated alertness, Sandra could barely see it. The slight gradient in the air as colors went from vibrant to duller, as the light became dimmer. A sign of horrors that she didn’t like to think about.
As a member of the Bureau of Containment, good old BoC, she’d dealt with a lot of these anomalies, but this time it was different. This time it was personal, and this time she felt even worse that their options were so limited. Cordon the area off, nothing gets in. No need to worry about anything getting out. Wait, and starve the motherfucker out.
But that took time, too much time. The allure of the anomaly made it hard to fully contain, so even with their best efforts it was still being fed. Worse, though, a consumption event of this size would take months, maybe even years, to collapse, and Sandra didn’t want to think about what would be left after that long.
Normal, smaller events lasted only days, and she still remembered the interviews she’d seen with the survivors. Physically, they were fine, but mentally was a different matter. They’d been reluctant to talk about the incident at all, and insisted on using euphemisms. They said they didn’t want It to hear them, so they avoided directly referring to the events so they wouldn’t draw It’s attention.
The aftermath of the event told more than the survivors did. Bio-hazard cleanup crews took on average six months to clean up the remains of a single event. How long this place would be reeking, toxic wasteland was difficult to think about. Sandra still sometimes had nightmares about the pictures she’d seen before cleanup was complete.
However, she’d always been able to distance herself from the horror, just a little. Not this time, not with her sister stuck in that hellhole. She shuddered just thinking about what was going on inside, what her dear baby sister must be going through right now. It was all she could do to resist storming into the exclusion zone herself, but she knew that wouldn’t help. She’d only trap herself inside the grim nightmare that had swallowed up the sleepy town of Fieldsburg.
…
Lilly woke up feeling energized and cheerful, like every day. She swung her legs out of bed, blinking a little as the morning light hit her eyes. It was going to be another wonderful day.
Normally she would just grab something from the diner on her way to work, but she was feeling particularly vibrant today, so she decided to cook something instead. Ignoring the petulant shouts from the saferoom, she whipped something together and sat down to eat. Herod could wait.
Out of unconscious habit she reached for her pocket to take out her phone, but stopped halfway through the motion. Fieldsburg was happier without phones, without distractions from the outside world. They’d all agreed on that, and disposed of the devices that served to bring unneeded stress into their lives. Habits ran deep, though.
Lilly decided that she’d kept Herod waiting long enough, and walked to the saferoom, grabbing the bucket of feed on the way there. Almost empty, she noted. She’d have to grab more feed on the way back from work.
Herod began his normal tirade when she finally showed up, but quieted down when Lilly cheerily kicked him in the side with a sharp CRACK! He fell over, wailing, but perked up a little when he saw the bucket. He’d never had the best attention span, and just like that the pain in his ribs was forgotten.
Lilly reached into the bucket, pulling out a peeping, terrified foal. Tossing it into the same room, she chuckled a little as it was pounced upon by the hungry stallion and swallowed in two rapid bites. She’d considered removing Herod’s teeth so he’d take longer to eat the foals, but decided against it. She’d already cut off his penis to keep him in a state of constant sexual frustration, removing his teeth as well might be a bit too much, at least until she decided to get a new pet to replace him.
For a brief moment she felt the urge to just stomp the stallion into a pile of entrails, but it was only a flicker in her pristine mood. No, she got more enjoyment from watching him devouring foals than she’d get from the thrill of ending his miserable existence. Better to keep him alive until the prions from cannibalism built up and she could watch him wither away in pain and terror.
After all, what else would you possibly keep a fluffy for other than to watch it suffer?
…
It was early evening when Lilly finished her work on one of the local farms. It was tiring, but fulfilling, work, work that always made her feel rewarded. Today, in particular, had been enjoyable, as a small herd of feral fluffies had gotten into the field, and she’d drawn the long straw and gotten to dispose of them.
She felt a broad smile returning to her face when she remembered how the bratty bestest babbeh, after having pummeled the smaller, malnourished foals to death on the promise of being allowed to leave, had rolled around and shrieked after she’d removed its skin. Clotting spray was such a gift.
She swung by the local fluffy supply shop, nodding her head along to the familiar tune that chimed as she entered. Uncle Pete, as all the locals called him, looked up from his work as she entered and smiled cheerily. The old man was pushing 90, but still took great joy in his work, and was so spry you wouldn’t think that only three months prior he’d been on his last legs. Another miracle for a blessed town.
Lilly picked up a half-dozen feed foals and some of Uncle Pete’s custom formula. The grayish liquid was incredibly foul, guaranteed to cause agonizing cramps, but was also perfectly balanced nutritionally. Pete had said the recipe had come to him in a dream shortly after his miraculous recovery.
Today’s batch of feed foals were bigger than normal, a bunch of talkie-babbehs that Pete had gotten when he captured a feral family. Lilly was slightly perturbed by that, since she normally only fed Herod chirpy foals, but she figured she could always cut the legs off these to make sure they wouldn’t satiate his hunger too much.
She chuckled, thinking about how the stallion would look at her if she tossed four tiny legs into his pen instead of an entire foal. She could practically hear the screams of rage, see the look of betrayal and despair as he realized that his hunger would be so much worse. Yes, that would be perfect. Alternate legs and pillowed foals for every feeding day. Herod would hate that.
And if he complained too much…well, there was a convenient source of much bigger legs for him to eat if she felt like it.
…
Lilly was almost home as dusk fell. It was a long, long walk from the farm to her house, a byproduct of the way that Fieldsburg was originally zoned, but she didn’t mind. It was a beautiful day, and she got to talk with friends from around the town. In such a safe place as Fieldsburg, there was no need to worry about walking home too late. She walked past alleys unafraid, breathing deeply the wonderful scent of dead and decaying fluffies from the festering piles in the shade.
She’d been killing time between conversations by goading the foals in the bag she was carrying, describing what was going to happen to them as they wailed and begged. Honestly, it was enough to make her always want to get talkie-babbehs as feed foals. But…feeding fully-talking babbehs to Herod seemed like a bit of a waste. No, better to make them suffer more, beg more, before they died. Maybe it was time to retire the stallion. Pete was sure to have an intact stallion or two that’d be able to fully enjoy talkie-babbehs before eating.
She was so lost in her musings that she almost walked into her neighbor, Mrs. Ratby. Ratby had always been one of the most miserable parts of living here, always rambling on about how the good old days were so much better, criticizing Lilly for nothing, and generally being an insufferable old bat. She’d mellowed up a lot, though, recently, but was still a bit stuck in her ways.
“Young lady!” she snapped, seeming irritated. Even in Fieldsburg there were some people who were somehow always annoyed. “What do you think you’re doing with those foals?” She seemed scandalized by the whole affair.
“Feed foals for Herod,” Lilly replied brusquely.
“Disgusting!” Ratby shouted. “Disgusting little girl! How could you?” She pointed at the bag, still emitting wails and pleading. “You let them talk back like that? Feed foals should know their place! Why, in my day we never let a fluffy talk back!” She seemed to calm down, and seemed to adopt an almost motherly tone. “Well, it’s not your fault. Some of us are just too soft-hearted for our own good. But if you want me to ever show you how to deal with a bratty fluffy, well, Benjamin and I would be happy to help.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Ratby, but I really prefer to handle this my way. I appreciate the offer, though.”
…
Lilly woke up the next morning, thankful that it wasn’t a feeding day. Today at least she wouldn’t have to watch that gibbering piece of shit gnawing on another foal. But that thought only reminded her of the talkie-babbehs in the bucket. Only reminded her what fate lay in store for them.
For an instant, she considered fighting back, but decided against it. It was too strong, and would quell her easily. Even her most burning fury barely registered with the thing wearing her skin, using her like a puppet. There wasn’t anything she could do.
She cried internally as she watched and felt herself eating, the pitiful cries from the bucket too much to bear. How had things ended up like this? Only a few months ago everything was normal, before It suddenly seized control, turned everyone into dolls for Its sick games. So short a time ago, but so distant.
She wanted to give up, but It didn’t even allow that. Somehow, the way it let her ever-so-slightly change her own behavior was worse than leaving her completely helpless. Her compassion and empathy towards the fluffies she was forced to torment let her act with a little less depravity. So even though she hated every moment, she forced herself to pay attention, to struggle, to give whatever tiny mercies she could to the doomed creatures.
But the scariest thing of all was how she was slowly giving in, feeling marginally less horror and revulsion at every new atrocity. She didn’t enjoy it, but sometimes…she wondered. Would it be so wrong to do those things to Herod or other twisted fluffies? And that thought was something she hated. She felt that slowly, oh-so-slowly, It was turning her into a tiny copy of Itself.
She felt herself look up from her food when she heard a tapping at the door. She braced herself for the inevitable bloodbath when the door opened, when her cruel alter ego dragged the fluffy or fluffies into the basement, when she started burning and cutting and mangling them, and she realize she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. Too much had been going on for too long, and she couldn’t hold herself back from screaming into the void any longer.
As she felt herself look down at the soon-mummah and stallion on the doorstep, she finally snapped and poured every scrap of willpower she had left into one final plea.
…
Lilly perked up hearing the tapping at the door. She loved when feral fluffies or runaways showed up like this, since it saved her time finding playmates. Already possibility were floating through her mind, excitement bubbling when she thought about using the brand-new auto-delegger for the first time.
She looked down at a shit-colored soon-mummah and a blotchy-gray, tattered stallion and felt elated. There was nothing like taking a fluffy that’d already experienced a hard life among its own kind and making all of its scars infinitely deeper. Better still to watch a mummah clinging to her newly-born babbehs that she knew would only suffer and die in front of her.
But for a moment there was a fleeting invasive thought that perhaps she shouldn’t hurt these, shouldn’t kill them. It was only there for an instant, but it felt compelling. Then, as it faded completely she had another. Let them learn to trust me, then take it away. It’ll hurt so much more.
Yes, that would be the perfect plan. Let them know what happiness was before she tore it away. Especially the foals, since without some time of happiness they would be unable to fully realize how far they’d fallen, how truly miserable they’d become.
…
She’d finally found a weak point, a crack in the iron grip It held on her! Lilly laughed and cried, feeling the most joy she’d ever experienced at the tiny victory. It might not be much, but she’d won. She had gotten to choose the action to take, not It!
Then she sobered, looking at the fluffies on the doorstep. She’d bought them time, but that was it. She hadn’t saved them, just delayed the inevitable. It was a hollow victory.
But now she knew how to fight back.
…
A few weeks later
…
Cindy lay cuddling her foals, nearly talkie-babbehs now. Her mummah watched her, the mummah who’d taken her in, protected her from the strangely munstah-like people in the town Cindy and Mort had felt so drawn to. She watched the expressions flickering on mummah’s face, wondering why that happened so much.
Why am I wasting so much time on these? Why haven’t I just killed them already? They trust me, they love me! Why haven’t I taken that away yet? Lilly thought, confused. She’d held back so long so the grand reveal would be so much sweeter, but every time she felt it was time a new reason to wait popped into her head. Not this time, though. This time she was going to get what she was due.
Imagine the pain of seeing her children AND grandchildren dying, the whisper said, and Lilly felt herself drool a little. Yes, that was perfect! It meant more waiting, but the thought was so delicious! She’d just have to keep on using random feral fluffies until then.
But why did she feel like she’d have a new reason to wait when that time came?
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Fight back eldritch creature, fight back!
Interesting concept, though I’m a little confused. Is there a part one to this, or is this part one? Not that your writing is confusing, I’m just not sure if I’m jumping in mid-story/mid-series or anything.
It’s nice to see an outside-the-box fluffy story.
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It’s standalone, since I didn’t think the concept really worked for a long-term story.
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