World War Fluffy - By Hornlarry (Booru ID 41533)


Blinky gazed out over the broken battlefield. A mess of craters, bad poopies and fluffy corpses littered the no-man’s land between the opposing fluffy armies. In the distance, Blinky could hear a wounded fluffy slowly begging for death.

“Wan die… wan die…” the mortally wounded fluffy was whimpering. Part of Blinky wanted to help him, but a wiser part knew that it was too dangerous.

Blinky turned back, and huddled down in the trench again. All around him, the Blue Kingdom fluffies were coughing and shivering, hunched up against the muddy sides of the trench, trying to keep out of the puddles and poop that flowed through the bottom, a winding river of misery.

“Soo hungy,” said one of the fluffies in Blinky’s unit.

“So cowd,” added another.

“How wong tiww pway time?” asked a third.

“Onwy two mowe bwight tiems naow,” Blinky told them, reassuring his fluffies. He wondered if they would live for two more bright times though.

Just then, Blinky heard the sounds of fluffies standing to attention. In the distance, he could see an officer and his retinue, paddling their way through the river of filth in a little boat. As they passed, fluffies stood to their feet and saluted.

“Attenshun! Attenshun! It am Wootenent Wawence!” a nearby fluffy cried.

Blinky stood to attention, and his fluffies reluctantly stood too, still huddling together for warmth. Slowly, the lieutenant’s boat approached their position, before docking next to a wooden board that ten fluffies had carried into the trench. Lieutenant Lawrence managed to step out of the boat, without sinking up to his chest fluff in the horrendous mud. Blinky was disappointed that the yellow fluffy’s fluff was not totally caked in filth.

“Ah, Bwinky,” the officer addressed him.

“Wootenent,” replied Blinky, reluctant to make eye contact with the idiot officer.

“Dewe is going to be a meeting, in da command tent,” said Lieutenant Lawrence. “Da Genewaw wants Bwinky to be dewe.”

“Otay,” agreed Blinky, reluctantly. Still staring just past the officer.

Lieutenant Lawrence stood there awkwardly. For some reason, he always tried to fraternise with the fluffies under his command, rather than just leaving them be. The stupid officer had no idea that posh and privately educated fluffies like himself had absolutely nothing in common with the rank and file of fluffies that made up the majority of the Blue Kingdom army. Blinky wondered why he tried.

“So, fwuffies, how is fings? Aww happy to gib da Wed Kingdom awmy wowsest owwies? Steaw dewe wand and gib deb sowwy poopies?”

The lieutenant looked around expectantly. His enthusiasm was downright embarrassing. Blinky said nothing, and his fluffies looked like they had no idea what to say. Even the lieutenant’s entourage looked like they wished they were somewhere else.

“Yu, yu fwuffy,” Lieutenant Lawrence said, addressing a small brown earthy fluffy, that looked like a homeless feral. “Am yu nu happy to gib da Wed Awmy wowstest owwies?”

The scrawny brown fluffy looked up at the Lieutenant.

“Nummies? Fwuffies can hab nummies?” the brown fluffy begged.

“Oh, suwewy yu fwuffies hab wotsa nummies…” the Lieutenant began. “Da Bwue Kingdom gibs aww da bestest washions aftew aww. Nummy nummy kibbew. Tasty kibbew. Ha ha ha…”

Blinky stared at the idiot fluffy with utter contempt, but quickly averted his gaze when the officer turned to face him.

“Good job keeping da fwuffies happy Bwinky. Come wiv Wootenant Wawence naow, meet da Genewaw.”

Reluctantly, Blinky followed the officer down into the boat.


In the gloom of the command tent, the only light came from an old night light that had been hooked up to an electrical wire. It kept flickering, as electricity was intermittent. Starving fluffies had been known to try and num electrical wires in their delerium, believing them to be sketties. Many good fluffies had died that way.

The bloated fat form of General Roger dominated the tent. Earlier that year, Blue Kingdom scouts had found a ruined Oreo cookie factory, which the humans had abandoned after the time of biggest owwies. Amazingly, the Oreos were still good, even after a forever of dark and bright times. The scouts had eaten well, but eventually news of the Oreos had reached General Roger, who “claimed” them on behalf of the Blue King. Ever since then, Blinky’s fluffies had had no more Oreos in their nummy rations, and precious little kibble. Meanwhile, the general was feasting on Oreos, as his fat form attested.

“Ahh, Bwinky,” the fat general greeted him, “Come in, come in, it am wawm and dwy in hewe. Tenty keep off da sky-wawas.”

Blinky shook his fluff as best he could, and eagerly entered the tent. An electric heater had been plugged in next to the night light, and the fluffy felt warm for the first time in weeks.

“Bwinky my good fwuffy,” the General huffed, “Yu am good fwuffy. Keep ova fwuffies happy, and AWIVE. Da fwuffies under Bwinky command wike Bwinky. Wiww fowwow Bwinky.” the general nodded, and around him, his command team also nodded, eagerly. Blinky began to have a sinking feeling.

“You know, eba since da Wed King kiwwed da Bwue King, and stowe da Bwue Pwince, dewe has been WAW between da Wed Kingdom, and da Bwue Kingdom. Dose Wed Kingdom fwuffies am da biggest meanies. Dey am stoopid, dummeh fwuffies, an dey gonna get sowwy poopies, an wowstest owwies, an fowevew sweepies!” the general enthused. His sycophanting followers chuckled with agreement, but Blinky knew they were just there to give him licky cleanies and beg for Oreo crumbs. He hated the fat general.

“But befowe dat, we’s gonna gib dem aww BAD SPECIAW HUGGIES, an dey wiww cwy, 'mummah! mummah! fwuffy nu wike bad speciaw huggies! Nu am Mawe! Nu am Mawe!” the general laughed and rubbed his no-no’s. Blinky had heard rumours about what the general did to Red Kingdom prisoners of war. His command team laughed again, as if it was the funniest of funnies. “Yes, Bwue awmy fwuffies wiww gib da Wed Awmy fwuffies a damn good Wogewing! Fnarr fnarr!”

“Dewe am gonna be a big push. To take back da wand dat da Wed Awmy hab taken, eba since da Wawn Invasion. Dis am Wed Kingdom wand! And dey nu can take it!”

Blinky looked at his feet in despair. Another big push. No one could tell how many fluffies would die. Countless thousands most likely. The trenches continued for twenty miles in either direction, only flanked by the river to the east, and the forest to the west. The forest was a graveyard of countless battles too.

“Dose wed fwuffies is gonna make SCAWEDY POOPIES when dey sees da Bwue Awmy comin,” General Roger continued. “We is gonna Bawwage dem wiv da bestest Poopie Cannons, an den when da cannons stops, it am chawgin tiem.”

Blinky knew the drill. First, they would “Affix bayonets”, strapping sharpy-pointy sorry sticks to the horns of the Unicorns, while the biggest Earthies would strap on armour to their fronts. Then they would charge across the no-man’s land, past spikey pit traps and fluffy corpses, into the teeth of the Red Army’s poopie cannons. Barely half of them would make it to the Red Army’s trenches, and when they got there, the Red Army would be just as well armed as they were. Blinky wondered why they were even fighting. No one could even remember the old King’s names.

“Wat do Bwinky fink of dat pwan?” asked the General.

“Umm… Genewaw Wogew?” Lieutenant Lawrence asked, “Why asking Bwinky about Pwan? Bwinky nu am educated fwuffy… wiww pwobabwy just fink sowwy poopies am bestest stwategy.”

The Lieutenant tried to start some laughter at his own joke, but a cold look from the General silenced him, and the rest of the command team quickly picked up on the appropriate response.

“Nu cawe what Wootenant Wawence fink, onwy cawe what Sawgent Bwinky fink,” said the General, looking at Blinky.

Blinky shifted uncomfortably.

“Ummmm… Bwinky fink…” Blinky racked his brains to think of something to say. Could he postpone the attack? Could he save the lives of many thousands of fluffies? Or would he just end up staked to the ground, as crow food, as so many other deserters and dissenters had before him, after General Roger had “Rogered” while they cried “Nu am Mawe!”. Sometimes Blinky suspected that the General was mainly interested in the war for the “Rogering” opportunities it presented him. That and the Oreos.

“Bwinky fink dat… Bwinky need make gud poopies!” he quickly blurted out, hoping it would give him a couple more minutes to craft a suitably balanced response.

“Wawence need gu fiwst!” peeped Lawrence, running for the Litterbox at the rear of the tent, hidden by a flap of fabric, so as to give some privacy for the pooper. Blinky wasn’t sure if he’d done so to spite Blinky, or out of a genuine need for scaredy poopies. Either way, the Leutenant had beaten him to it, cutting off his potential line of escape.

“So?” asked General Roger, while the yellow fluffie gasped in relief from the back of the tent, filling the litterbox with his fearful turds.

“Bwinky fink dat… it am a gud pwan! Da Bwue Awmy wiww give da Wed Awmy wowstest owwies!” he blurted out enthusiastically. From the look on the general’s face, it was the right answer, and Blinky’s ass was literally, if temporarily, saved. Blinky was disappointed with himself though. This had been his chance to try and persuade the General to postpone the attack. In just two more days, Blinky and his fluffies would be allowed to have some “West and Wewaxation” or “Pway Weave” far from the front lines, with food, and babies, and mares…

“Good fwuffy!” the fat general declared, patting Blinky on the back with a solid hoof. “Da attack wiww begin just befowe da Bwight tiem. Get some good sweepies Bwinky!”

Blinky’s guts seemed to turn inside out. Suddenly, he felt the need to make scaredy poopies too. Fortunately, Lieutenant Lawrence picked that moment to emerge from the rear of the gloomy tent, looking decidedly relieved.

“Excuse a fwuffy,” Blinky said quickly, in his bestest imitation of an educated fluffy accent, and he made his way to the litterbox.

As Blinky made his way past the flap of material into the back of the tent, his nostrils were assaulted by the smell of the previous fluffy’s poop. In the front of the tent, the General and his goons were guffawing and cracking jokes about the Blue Army. Soon they would be smoking cigars, drinking whiskey and eating Oreos, while his fluffies continued to starve and freeze in the trenches. It made Blinky mad.

Then Blinky noticed two things. The first was an open box, near the litterbox, and the second was a tuft of yellow fluff, caught on a rusty nail in the lid of the box. Scaredy poopies temporarily forgotten, Blinky nudged the box lid with his nose, and peered inside.

The box contained treasures beyond Blinky’s wildest dreams! It was FULL of Oreos. Countless, beautiful, tasty Oreos. And they were DOUBLE STUFFED Oreos. Blinky looked over his shoulder, and realised he was out of sight and earshot of the General and his sycophants. Thrusting his snout into the box, he began to feast and feast on the delicious chocolate and cream human cookies.

“OMM NOM NOM NOM NOM!” Blinky munched, reasoning that he would soon be dead anyways. Death by poopie cannon, or a Red Army bayonet would be quick at least.

Blinky scoffed the Oreos as fast as he could. In just a few seconds, he had devoured dozens and dozens of them. Suddenly though, he felt afraid. There were worse deaths than dying on a Red Army bayonet. Being nummed to death by a crow, after a thorough “Rogering” from the General and his gang of hanger ons would be much, much worse. And such was the penalty for stealing Oreos. Blinky was terrified.

But suddenly still, from a cunning corner of his mind, a plan started to form. Blinky gathered some Oreo crumbs, and kept them in his cheek pouches, thankful for his hamster DNA, though he didn’t know it. Then, he lifted his ass to the top of the half eaten box of Oreos, and released a torrent of foul liquid shit all over the Oreos. Checking that the tuft of yellow fluff from Lieutenant Lawrence was still attached to the box, he carefully made sure that none of his own fluff was anywhere to be seen, and slowly closed the lid on the foul present he had left behind.

Then, he made his excuses to the general, turned down the offer of a human cigar, and made his way back to the trenches.

Later that night, he would sprinkle the Oreo crumbs on the Lieutenant as the stoopid officer slept. Blinky knew he would die in tomorrow’s big push, but at least he wouldn’t be “Rogered” to death.

Blinky only wished he could be there to see the Lieutenant’s face when the general caught him.


Link to Index of Hornlarry Stories

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But this is fantastic. It almost gave me vibes of Sven Hassel’s WW2 books.

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