Write a smol story 2 (InfraredTurbine)

Daddy flipped him off and laughed lmao.

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“Nu daddeh, nu! Nu take Bestesh fwiend, am gud fwiend, am babbehs onwy fwiend. Pwease nu gib huwties, pwease gib fwiend bak to babbeh, huuuhuuuhuuuu.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “I’m not taking your toy away, I’m putting batteries in him so he can talk.”

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He had an accident on the carpet and fearing his daddy would be mad he licked it up, only to spot…the elf on the shelf. Daddy told him the elf reported directly to Santa and if he was bad he wouldn’t get any presents for Christmas. He begged the elf to not tell Santa or his daddy but she just sat there staring at him with cold, mocking eyes.

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It was called ugly when it came out of the present by the daughter of the family, who thinks grey is the ugliest color. The blue mane is lovely, but then there’s the grey, and he just gets DUNKED on. Like an emo sack of smoky shit.

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Daddy gave his gray fluffy first enfie babbeh for christmas.
Unfortunately, among the guests on Christmas Eve, there was one bambinistic hugboxer who decided that such gifts are not good and hid the foal in his pocket and tried to get out of the party early. Fluffy raised a cry and now in the hall the hugboxer is struggling with the owner of the gray pony, and the pony himself with tears in his eyes claps his hooves, cheering for his slightly drunk owner.

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I can’t write a story about this fluffy, but I feel an incredible urge to kick its balls.

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My humble offering:

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A chilled January 18th.

Randy stared at the… thing? in front of him. He had seen ads on TV about these. They were called Fluffies. The company that owned the copyright on the first “Bio-toy” was all over the news for the win in the Supreme Court. So to celebrate they started making Holiday ones. They had either a hat or or something graffted on to the bodies at a young age. As Randy took in the pathetic creature a cold and bitter feeling snaked up his insides. As it hit his brain it changed in to a thought. How long would it take before the fluffies head popped? That hat was getting tighter and tighter as the young fluffy grew. In his mind a nasty smile grew while on his face a sorrowful frown formed to convince the discarded decoration that he wasn’t a threat. “Hab wurstests hed and heart hurties!! Wittle mummah weft Hewpur! Nyu mistah be nyu daddy?! Gib huggies for feew better?” As he approached the rancid smell coming from the creature made Randy gag. He spat the bile from his mouth. He was going to have to rethink how he was going to get it home. He spotted an empty Amazon box just a bit too small for the fluffy. Perfect he thought to himself. “You know what, little guy? I think I can use my human magic to make you all better. I just need you to get in this box and come with me. You can have a new home!” When the barely functioning sack of bolted together genes realized it was going to get a new home It’s crying ended and the rat began to babble it’s preprogrammed nonsense and happily trotted in to the open box. Randy gave the creature a quick once over and could see the stitching was an angry red and starting to swell. Either the pressure or the infection was gonna kill it. Randy made a game out of it. If the pressure got him he was gonna go have dinner at the steakhouse or if it was the infection he was gonna go get Chinese. Either way it would be an awesome story for that online group he found. Maybe even some pictures for the progress of the infection or video of it thrashing around in pain as the hat squeezes tighter.

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Not much of a writer, but I imagine it’s crying cause it’s getting replaced by a christmas colored fluffy, who will in turn inevitably get replaced when valentine’s day rolls around, or it gets killed, whichever happens first.

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The foal was initially happy to receive the Santa hat until his owner nailed it to his head.

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A left-over holiday fluffy foal gets informed by a fluffy-mart employee it’s gonna go “forever sleepies.” Oh, the teenager working at the fluffy-mart loathes these things, but he needed the money, it pays well due to not many people wanting to work while hearing fluffy “talk” whine, and cry for 9 hours. But oh boy, he sure loves crushing the hopes of these pig rat horses every once and a while, when they are clearing stock.

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Billy wanted to know why he couldn’t play with Mistaw Testicawhammaw like his brothers were about to do.

(Not to worry Billy. You will get a chance!)

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Holy shit, I was just wondering what you were up to. So I go on your profile to check, and lo and behold, you’ve just made your first post since November :heart:

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Wut, actually I’ve been posting stuff during Decemenber and January too o_o

That was actually aimed at FluffiesAreFood lol

The site doesn’t acknowledge when you direct a post at someone if their post is immediately before yours, for some reason. It’s retarded, Virgil pls fix

But I’m happy to have you here too, Turbine :heart:

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xD no worries ^^

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I’m really taken with this picture for some reason. I already did an abuse story. Maybe I’ll do a hugbox story of it too.

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Fluffy is told that Santa doesn’t exist.

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(Shhh I’m not late.)

A group of friends are gathered at one’s house for some Christmas festivities, or more aptly, an excuse to get drunk and watch shitty movies. Unfortunately, for the host’s fluffy, things have went off rail.

“No I promise, it’ll be hilarious.”

“James isn’t that your pet?”

“Fuck do I hiccup care? I got it for 2 bucks! Now let’s see a little Christmas cheer! And don’t call that little fucker a pet, stop giving him ideas.”

“Yeah stop being a buzzkill Connie. Jeez.”

“Ashtray, cmere boy! I’m sure you guys could guess what he was meant for, but I told my sister I’d quit the cigarettes. The name stuck though.”

James smacks his hands against his thighs, a call the fluffy is all too used to at this point.

“Ashtway weady fo’ sketties daddeh!”

“We- well first… Ya gotta, gotta say hi to these fuckers right here!”

James drunkenly grabs the fluffy and turns him towards his onlooking friends.

“Hewwo nice mistuh! Nice wady! Am Ashtway! Am bestes’ babbeh fo’ daddeh!”

James then releases Ashtray who falls flat on his stomach.

“Excuse me for a minute guys. I’ll be back with the stuff.”

As he walks away and tries to enter a room, the only thing everyone else hears is a loud thud and a “fuck!”. Just a few minutes later, as if he didn’t walk right into the wall and spill the rest of his beer on himself, James is back with a small Santa hat in hand and a tube of super glue.

“Hit the music, we need to set the mood. Ashtray show em your moves buddy!”

Blissfully unaware to what his owner has planned, Ashtray turns and faces Connie and Zach, then starts to dance as Jingle Bell Rock plays.

“Hold still ya little shit…”

James squeezes a large amount of the adhesive inside of the hat and plops it down straight onto Ashtray’s head and holds it down for a few seconds.

“Ta-da! Now he’s ready to go caroling!”

“Wha’ daddeh do to Ashtway’s head? Am feew funny! Feew sticky! Nu wike!”

After nearly 30 minutes of pleading and crying, and lots of laughs at Ashtray’s expense, James finally decides to kick it up a notch.

“Alright buddy, if you really want it off tha- that badly. I’ll oblige…”

James gets up from the couch and approaches Ashtray, and pulls on the hat slightly.

“You’re gonna have to push back on my hand some, kay?”

“…Otay daddeh!”

James yanks as hard as he can as Ashtray pushes against his hand. To Ashtray’s immense dismay, it didn’t work.

“Ah well. Guess you don’t want it off.”

“Nu daddeh! Nu wan’ dummeh thinkie pwace feew! Ashtway’s thinkie pwace hab buwnies!”

“Fine. You got it pal.”

James grabs the tip of the hat and with one swift jerk, slams Ashtray’s head into the hardwood floor, then nearly falls over as he backs away, far too busy laughing at the reaction on Ashtray’s face.

As all three friends come to tears from the drunken harassment they call entertainment, Ashtray reaches out towards James yet again.

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The little foal gazes into the heavens.
He witnesses the beauty that is a perfect can of chef boyarde canned spaghetti with a Christmas bow on top descending as if sent by the fluffy gods themselves.
He weeps. For now he knows true beauty.

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