TextDownloadThis morning I had the good fortune to find a herd of fluffies invading my back yard. Invasions happen about once a every couple of months where I live. The apple trees gave them incentive; the trapdoor I installed in the fence gives them opportunity. The trap door swings one way, so that they can get in, but can't get out. I stepped out my back door and took count. Eight fluffs total, not counting foals. Two looked like toughies, and they'd have a lot of good meat on them. At least one pregnant mare. I hadn't seen a haul like this in a couple of years. "Good morning fluffies, how are we today?" That of course immediately drew the smarty fluffy out. "STUPI HOOMIN! DIS FWUWWY WAND NAO!" The smarty was a light blue stallion with a red, white and blue colored mane. He looked perfect as a Fourth of July decoration. He'd be a valuable pet to some hugboxing asshole --- I could get maybe $100 for him on Manhattan or Staten Island, assuming I could clean him up and break him of his smarty behavior for long enough to pawn him onto some sucker. "Whatever you say, Smarty." "GUD! NAO GIF HUWD AW DA GUD NUMMIES!" "No problem! Here, look!" I walked over to the garage and opened the door for them. "Come in here, it's warm and I've got water and skettis for you." SKETTIS! they all cried, and rushed into the garage. I had it set up as a makeshift safe room. It had a couple of beach balls, some safe blocks, and enough sawdust on the floor to make the shit and piss easier to clean. It wasn't a good permanent arrangement but it would keep them quarantined from my main stash long enough to make sure they're disease free. I set up a couple of watering stations while they played with the balls and babbled to each other. Then I dumped a few long-expired cans of cheap spaghetti and meatballs into a metal bowl. "Here you go, skettis!" The fluffies were on the spaghetti like flies on dogshit. I would take inventory of them later, but first I had to take care of the smarty. "Not you, smarty. I've got a special treat for you." "DAS WITE! SMAWTY GET SPECHAW TWEATS!" I picked up the smarty and took him over to a workbench, where I put a diaper on him. "WAT DIS FO?" "It's so you can go into my house for the special treat." What I didn't tell him was that the "special treat" would make him shit and piss himself in terror. Diaper on, I took him to the kitchen, where I had a legboard already set up. Plopped the smarty in, no problem. "WY SMAWTIE WEGGIES NU MOOF?" "Relax, I'm not going to hurt you." I had already picked out a mare for dinner. She was three months old and had the kind of shitty personality I didn't want to breed more of. She was waiting in the play room where I usually put fluffs before slaughter. I put on my hearing protection and went into the staging room. "Okay Daisy, time for upsies." "DAISY NU WAN UPSIES. DAISY WAN SKETTIES AN SPECHAW FWIEN AN BABBEHS." "Daisy, we talked about this. Now come on." I picked Daisy up by the scruff and took her to the kitchen. On entering the kitchen she knew what was in sotre for her. She struggled mightily against my grip and against the anal plug I fixed in her ass an hour ago. "NU! NU WAN BE NUMMIES! FWUFFY NU FO NUM!" "Yes you are, Daisy. Now don't make this harder than it has to be." "NUUU! PWEASE! NU NUM DAISY! DAISY BE GUD!" Meanwhile the Smarty was also shouting. "GIF SMAWTY ENFIE MAWE NAO! SMAWTY WAN GUD FEEWS!" Annoying though his shouting was, it told me he was paying attention. I held Daisy over the sink and made my initial cut to skin her. Daisy's scream was eardrum-piercingly loud. The screams of "heavily distressed" fluffies always is, until they can't scream anymore. The Smarty was stunned by what he saw, as indicated by his silence. I continued to skin Daisy alive. She continued to scream. Smarty continued to watch in wide-eyed horror. Fur removed, I placed it aside. Daisy had a nice lavender coat that would be worth quite a bit. Pastel colors like that usually fetched anywhere from five to ten dollars a pelt. Daisy continued screaming as I cut through her abdomen muscles to access her gut. I made one horizontal slit at the pelvis line and another just below the ribcage. I reached in and found her esophagus. I yanked on it -- that made her cough -- and the rest of her GI tract all but fell out. I just had to clean up some connective tissue. By now Daisy had stopped screaming. She was just looking at me with an expression of helpless rage. They always do that. Daisy's GI tract was now loose, but I had more work to do. I excised Daisy's vagina and removed it along with the rest of her reproductive organs. I threw her reproductive organs in the smarty's face. "See that? That's Daisy's special place," I informed him. His eyes teared up. I could see he was hyperventilating. "You wanted that, right? It's all yours. That's your special treat." I removed the rest of Daisy's GI tract along with her kidneys, bladder, and then the rest of her organs. Then I cut up her meat into several pieces: legs, ribs, belly parts, flanks, cheeks, breast meat, and so on. When I was done, I approached the smarty and pointed the blood-and-gore-covered knife at him. "Aren't you going to eat your special treat?" "Wat? Nu! Nu num fwuffy! Fwuffy nu fo num!" "Yes they are, you stupid cunt-shit. Hasbio might have made them for pets, but ever since fluffies destroyed America, they have lost their place of privilege. That means your purpose is whatever we need it to be. All the traditions, all your expectations, all the bullshit you think is normal and proper and polite? Kiss it goodbye! Fluffies have meat and fur, fluffies have no other use than meat and fur, and that means WE EAT FLUFFIES." I crouched down to inches from his face and looked him in the eye. I could smell his very full diaper, which no doubt contained all the shit and piss he released in fear. "Got that, shitrat? YOU. ARE. FOOD. And I have every right to do to YOU exactly what I just did to Daisy over there." Daisy's dead eyes looked at both of us, as if in judgment. I stood up straight. "But I'm going to make you a deal. I'm going give you a bath, comb your hair, remove your special lumps, and you're going to behave like a good, kind, loving fluffy, who makes no demands. And I'm going to sell you to a good owner who, if you are lucky, will treat you with love and affection. Or maybe they'll abuse you because they're stressed out. Either way, they'll be too rich to lower themselves to eating you." "Do we have a deal?" The fluff took several seconds to snap out of his fear. "Yus, hooman an fwuff haf deaw." "Good. Now, eat your special treat." I pointed at Daisy's reproductive organs, lying before him in chewing distance. "Bu..." "Ah, ah, ah. You want to be a good fluffy, right? Good fluffies are grateful fluffies. So eat your special fucking treat." I turned away and went back to cooking Daisy for lunch. I got an iron skillet and stated melting several chunks of fluffy tallow. While that was melting, I prepared the batter: flour, salt, one egg (from our hens), a dab of black pepper (that shit is expensive), paprika from the anarchist greenhouse, rosemary and thyme from the back yard, and a bottle of the neighbors' home brewed beer. Mix mix mix. As I worked, I glanced occasionally at the smarty, who was exercising as much self-control as he could to take a nibble at Daisy's reproductive organs. "Eat up smarty. Remember: the SECOND you start making demands, I get to make you into food and fur. And I will make you hurt much, MUCH worse than Daisy did." The Smarty looked at me, disgusted and terrified, and looked back at Daisy's reproductive organs, then at my knife. He took a bite out of Daisy's uterus, and chewed on it. He did not chew on it eagerly. I coated each piece of Daisy meat in flour and then dipped it in batter. Once the lot were battered, I arranged her four legs in the hot fat. They sizzled and sputtered. "I sure like Daisy better when she's frying than when she's talking, don't you, Smarty?" The smarty didn't answer. I set aside the legs to cool down and put in four more pieces of meat. Once a leg was cool enough I started eating it. The meat was like greasy, gamey beef. I made sure the smarty saw me eating the leg. His fear and disgust grew. Finally Daisy was all fried up, and arranged in a picnic basket. I briefly thought about putting her decapitated head on top of the basket. Man that would look hilarious. Too much blood, though. "Okay Smarty," I said, "I'm going to hand out fried Daisy to the community for lunch. I won't be gone for long. I want you to finish your special treat before I get back." I pointed at the greasy pile of Daisy's fallopian tubes, ovaries, vaginal wall and half-eaten uterus. "All of it." "Huuuuu..." "Is there a problem?" I swear, I thought I saw the fluffy turn green. "....Nu. Smawty num." "Good." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The smarty behaved after that. I was able to bathe him and comb his hair without him complaining, or even looking at me with an expression of anything but abject horror. I fed him kibble, which he ate quietly, and kept him in the safe room, where he kept to himself. He learned quickly how to use the litter box. He didn't even protest when I took his nuts. He whined a little from the pain, they all do that, but other than that he took it with humility, knowing well the alternative I had in store. He ate his kibble while I fried up his nuts. As I ate the Fluffy Oysters, I gave him a new name. "Your new name is America." His programming overrode his loathing of me. "Amewica wuv nyu name! Tank yu daddeh!" A week after he led the invasion into my back yard, I took America to the pet bazaar on Staten Island. The Orange Shirts checked to make sure he was gelded, charged me $15 entry fee, and stamped my papers. In exchange for all that trouble, I sold America, a beaten, broken, neutered ex-smarty, to a Russian businessman for $150 in bitcoin. The Orange Shirts charged me a 20% excise tax, leaving me with $120 from the sale. Sweet! As for the rest of America's former herd, I kept two foals, a male and a female, each with a good personality, for breeding. The rest ended up as food and fur over the next several weeks. By then, another herd had invaded my back yard. Life is tough, but sometimes it ain't bad. Uploader Anonymous, January 13, 2017; 12:01 Tags america_fuck_yea author:fluffiesarefood cannibalism eating_fluffies fluffies-as-food patriotism safe smarty-abuse trump_for_president Source Unknown Locked No Parent None Rating Unknown Comments January 13, 2017; 12:02 - Reply Anonymous1: Other stories by me: >>43788 and >>43926 And remember, fluffies are nummies! January 13, 2017; 12:20 - Reply Anonymous2: Jesus christ! I don't see Cannibalism here that often, this was nice! January 13, 2017; 12:48 - Reply Anonymous3: This is way better than all the obnoxious num-spamming. January 13, 2017; 13:17 - Reply Anonymous4: thank god you spared the smarty. January 13, 2017; 13:37 - Reply Anonymous5: @Anonymous: Times are tough in the NumAnon headcanon, and experiencing the joy of killing a smarty isn't a high priority. January 13, 2017; 15:30 - Reply Anonymous6: Have you considered seafluff nummies? >>18317 January 13, 2017; 17:15 - Reply Anonymous7: @Anonymous: >> This is way better than all the obnoxious num-spamming. Preach, brother! He was getting to be as bad as the Pedotroll. January 13, 2017; 17:26 - Reply Anonymous8: @Anonymous: Who's the pedotroll? January 13, 2017; 17:42 - Reply Anonymous9: @Anonymous: He's the guy who spread the rumor that BMF was going to be writing a story involving baby rape. Now he's constantly after Hornlarry, reminding everyone that Hornlarry wrote that Psychopathy story. Hell, you may be the pedotroll. The Pedotroll always wants recognition and praise. January 13, 2017; 19:22 - Reply Anonymous10: @Anonymous: except that sea fluffies are kind of hard to get to if they are not on a beach, or a lake. Kill them on a beach, and it will start smelling like death, and even a fluffy's retarded nose will be able to smell that. January 13, 2017; 19:25 - Reply BeefyTheHams: Nice story, makes me wonder the usefulness of fluffy pelts January 13, 2017; 19:35 - Reply Anonymous11: @Anonymous: So, you are BMF. How are you? January 13, 2017; 21:45 - Reply Anonymous12: great story. would eat again. January 13, 2017; 22:31 - Reply Anonymous13: @BeefyTheHams: Fluffy pets have no use. They're pets. You have to have disposable resources to afford them. The narrator is completely fucking broke, Nigeria-style, as is most of America in this setting. January 13, 2017; 22:47 - Reply Anonymous14: @Anonymous: I'm good. Can we have a pedo SeaFluff rape story? January 14, 2017; 03:53 - Reply Anonymous15: @Anonymous: Bonus points if it's in the style of a Disney musical a la "The Little Mermaid." Unda da seee.........unda da seeee... Puttin my willie in da foal filly as dey go screeeee.... January 14, 2017; 04:32 - Reply Anonymous16: @Anonymous: Dud you enjoy my little rumor?