Write a smol story 2 (InfraredTurbine)

Fluffy Image Self-Posting
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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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