abuse(ish) adopted alley-fluffies amputated_foal bratty_foal castrated dummeh_babbeh fatass fowebah_sweepies hugbox-ish new-name sadbox-ish safe veterinarian


The Family
Chapter Five
By WestMesaFluffCollector

Robert Morningstar hadn’t expected his day to turn out the way it did. He had just returned from his job at the Bureau of Land Management, and had gone in to grab a coffee to stay awake when he offered to help out Steve.

Bobby didn’t have any strong feelings regarding the creatures, seeing them as more nuisances at worst. He had encountered a few feral herds in his job, mostly in the aftermath of some incredibly creative and destructive way in which they had destroyed themselves. His most recent encounter had actually been the reason why he had needed the coffee this morning, after getting a call to go to one of New Mexico States’ Chile Growing Institute’s Research Fields, where a herd had decided that they had “found nummies” to their misfortune. When he had arrived, he had found about forty stallions, mares, and foals dying from their first and last encounter with the Bhut Jolokia chile, and it’s capsaicin, leaving them defecating, salivating, and crying for “wawas” as blood flooded from their anuses. Oddly enough, the Institute had no problem with it, as fluffy shit made for good fertilizer, and made for a pretty effective way to cull herds. Bobby suspected that’s why the outermost plants of the fields tended to be ghost and scorpion pepper plants.

Now, here he was, waiting in the waiting room of the Bosque Fluffy Clinic and Shelter, half heartedly looking through an issue of “The Distinguished Fluffy”, waiting for the results of the three feral foals that he had now somehow decided to take responsibility for. While staring at an article about using Fluffies for service animals (the very idea was probably the stuff of nightmares), he allowed his mind to drift back to that morning...


Blue had lead Bobby over to the dumpster, where he and his siblings had been hiding. He was immediately greeted cheerfully by Green, who promptly gave him a tight hug, tight enough to cause Blue to fart. There wasn’t any shit left in him, after dealing with the teenager, earlier.

Bobby knelt by the small yellow fluffy, a filly, as he soon found out. She was breathing shallowly, and smelt of what may be gangrene, or an infection of some type. He wasn’t a vet, but he knew that unless the filly saw a vet, it didn’t have long.

Spreading out the apron, Bobby placed the little yellow filly into it, and wrapped it up. It should be enough to protect his sidecar in case it decided to crap all over the place. Turning to the two stallions, Bobby saw that the little blue one’s brother, a rather sturdy green earthy, was also somewhat banged up. From what he could spot on the surface, the green colt was rather easy going, although it appeared that something had torn off his balls, and had done who knows what other horrible shit to him, judging by the somewhat lazy right eye. Whatever these foals had been through hadn’t been easy on him.

“Alright guys, we are going to go for a ride. I’m going to have you guys sit down, and whatever happens, don’t move until I tell you to. If you do, you will fall off and get “fowebbah sweepies”, or whatever it is you call it.” Bobby told them as he wrapped Blue and Green in the other apron. As he was lifting them up, the Green one suddenly began to flip out wildly, yelling “Nuuuu!!!”

Bobby looked at him funny. “What?”

Green jumped down and ran over to a large rock, and wrapped his legs around it. “Gweeney bwuddah nu weave wifout bwocky bwuddah!”

Bobby stared in confusion before looking over to Blue. “Is he serious?”

Blue rolled his eyes and nodded. After a few moments, he finally said “Gweeney bwuddah am….spehuw fwuffy.”

Bobby began to chuckle. He had just heard a fluffy calling another fluffy a fucking dumbass.

“Fine.” Bobby said, gathering the colts, rock included, in the apron, for the short walk to his bike. The fluffies could ride in the sidecar. It was a good thing he had been too lazy to disconnect it from his date two days ago.


“Officer Morningstar?”

The head veterinarian, Dr. Sarah O’Laughlin, peaked her head out of the door. She was a small woman, about 5’2”, with flaming red hair, a slight sunburn that made her freckles stand out, and a voluptuous figure that was barely concealed by her pair of scrubs. Bobby frowned. He hadn’t ever been to a fluffy vet before, so he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Dr. O’Laughlin looked like any other vet, save that she had on a pair of rubber boots. Bobby would later ask on the choice of footwear, and would told that, when working with fluffies, you encountered a fair amount of shit.

“Bobby, please.” Bobby said, putting down his magazine. “Officer makes me sound too damn formal.”

“Fair enough, so long as you call me Sarah.” She said with a laugh. She had a firm handshake. “Come on, I’ll take you to your fluffies.”

Bobby frowned. “Yeah, about that.” He said, closing the door to the waiting room. “I’m not keeping them. I just want to make sure they can have a chance at a good home.”

Sarah nodded, having dealt with many good samaritans bringing in ferals they had no intention of keeping. “That’s perfectly alright.” She motioned for him to follow her. “But since you’ve come this far, I figure you might want to see how they are doing.”

Bobby nodded. “Fair enough. Where are they at?”

“Follow me to Room 3.” Sarah said, turning around. Bobby caught himself looking at her butt, and mentally chastised himself for being a creep. Focus on the task at hand.


The door to Room #3 was closed, causing Sarah some concern, as this usually meant some sort of traumatic event. It was only when she took a look at the chart that she nodded and let out the breath she was holding. Turning to Bobby, she said “Wait right here for just a second. They’re just finish up the fitting on the filly.”

The fitting? Bobby thought as Sarah ducked into the room. He leaned back against the wall of the hallway. What could possibly require so much privacy?

The doors to Room #1 and #2 were in there, and Bobby could catch a glimpse at the fluffies on top. Room #1’s occupant was sobbing to himself, with his back turned to Bobby. Bobby saw a average sized orange earthy, with a light green mane, with the exception of the quite sizable slab of fecal matter that covered his rear fluff. It was sobbing about “nu wan mo buwnie poopies” and “pwease nu huwt fwuffie nu mowe buwnie sketti nummies”. Bobby cleared his throat, catching the orange earthy’s attention. It turned to him to reveal that he had gotten his head stuck into a jar, the inside of which was smeared with tears, snot, and what appeared to be tomatos. On the top of the jar, Bobby stifled a laugh as he read “Sadie's of New Mexico Hot Salsa.” His (correct) guess was that the idiot was nosing through the trash for extra food, found the jar, assumed it was spaghetti sauce, and had gotten the shock of his life. He was still tearing up inside, likely from the remainder of the salsa and the chili seeds still inside the jar.

Room Two revealed a huge fat unicorn foal, with a eggshell white coat and a pastel blue mane. She was likely a premium fluffy, and an easter themed one at that. She had on a big pink bow on her head and tail, the latter of which was discolored by urine. Her horn had been painted pink, likely with some sort of nail polish. She was moving around the enclosed examination table at a slow waddle, like the world’s most lethargic snail. Unlike her neighbor, she was openly angry and complaining in between loud farts about how she ‘wan mo nummies nao’ and ‘poopie pwace nu feew gud.”

The foal turned and spotted Bobby, who was popping a stick of Juicy Fruit in his mouth. The foal stared at the stick of gum like Donald Trump at a solar eclipse before it disappeared. Her eyes instantly narrowed.

“Gif Cwawabeww nummies nao!”

Bobby scowled at the angry foal, almost ready to respond before he caught himself. Arguing with a fluffy was about as effective as trying to reason with a automated service robot. He said nothing, blowing off the foal, hoping the lack of attention would be the end of it. It wasn’t.

The foal became angry at this lack of attention to her demands, and charged straight at the small wall that forced the enclosure of the examination table. The foal likely assumed she looked intimidating, instead, she resembled a lethargic hamster. I’ve seen tumbleweeds more intimidating, Bobby thought as he watched the fat foal at what he assumed was her top speed, with her small hooves slipping across the metal surface. She was farting the entire way to him. “Cwawabeww get wa Cwawabeww wan! Nao gif nummies, o get huwties!”

Bobby stepped forward. “Leave me alone, you fat little turd, before I close the door and leave you all by your lonesome.”

The foal scowled again. “Nu cawe! Onwy cawe abou nummies! Gif nao, stoopie hoomin!”

Room #3’s door opened just then, with Sarah exiting the room. She immediately spotted the foal trying and struggling to stand up on the sides of the enclosure to get at Bobby. “Clarabell, you sit down and behave yourself.” She said firmly as she walked over to the room.

Clarabell puffed out her cheeks, the action almost shutting her eyes as the rolls of fat squished up the sides of her face. “Nu haf to wisten to dummeh hoomin wady! Cwawabeww get what Cwawabeww wan...SCREEEE!!!!!”

Sarah had taken a small spray bottle and sprayed Clarabell with it, sending the fat foal screaming and letting out foul smelling farts as she scurried slowly back to the end of the examination table. She covered her head with her hooves and muttered “wawa bad fo Cwawabeww, wan mummah.”

Sarah closed the door. “I’m sorry about that.”

Bobby raised up his hand. “It’s okay. She saw me take some gum out. She thought it was food.”

Sarah nodded. “I figured as much. Clarabell has a very overly indulgent mother, and is a spoiled brat to boot. That’s part of the reason why she is here. She’s got a blockage in her intestines that may need surgery. Her owner owns a local traditional New Mexican restaurant in town, and lets her roam the restaurant to boot. My guess is she’s eating and demanding table scraps, and all that grease and lard finally caught up to her, along along with her daily spaghetti.”

“Skettis?! Cwawabeww wan nao!” The foal’s voice said, muffled from behind the door.

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Come on it. They’re ready to see you now.”


Opening the door, Bobby saw the trio of foals on one of the enclosed examination tables. All three had been cleaned up and bathed, giving their coats and manes a new luster. The Blue colt was lying down on a small foam pad, peacefully dozing. The yellow filly had the most different appearance out of the three. She was now missing her hind legs, and instead had been fitted with a harness that had a pair of gunmetal gray wheels. She was slowly chasing after a ball, trying to get used to her newfound mobility. The green fluffy had a set of bandages around his groin, and was playing with some rubber blocks, giggling as he tried to stack them on top of each other. Bobby spotted something grey near the green colt, almost obscured by the small block tower and frowned.

It was the god damn rock, only now it had a small bandaid on it.

“Before we begin, do you have any questions, Bobby?’

“One. Why is the rock still there?” Bobby asked.

Bobby asked, but Sarah simply shurgged. “He has latched onto it as a kind of comfort mechanism.” Sarah shrugged. “He caused a fuss when I originally took it away from him, so I had to tell him I was making sure his “rocky brother” was healthy. He seems quite attached to it, and it isn’t doing him any great harm.”

“Great.” Bobby said. The Blue colt hadn’t been lying when he said that his brother was “spechuw.”


Sarah closed the door to the examination room. The conversation that she was about to have with Bobby was going to be a rather delicate one. Clarabell was still audibly yelling for attention, although her isolation was beginning to take its toll as she had switched from yelling for food to yelling for her mother. Sarah needed the quiet.

“So, how are they?” Bobby was petting the yellow filly, who was meeting her saviour for the first time. She let out a “Hewwo!” before she cooed as Bobby scratched behind her ear.

Sarah went into professional mode. “Rather healthy for ferals. For the most part, they are weaned, although probably a bit earlier than they should be. I suspect that is more out of necessity than choice. We checked their stool samples, and they’ve probably been relying on forage. No parasites, thank god. For foals that age, they can be almost deadly.”

Sarah walked over a jar to take out some treats to give yellow and green. This next part was going to be rather difficult, and she had learned in the past that fluffies tended to freak once they heard about their injuries. Each treat had a small dosage of a sedative, which temporarily sedate the two foals, allowing Sarah the time to discuss their injuries freely.

“How long has their mother been out of the picture?” Bobby asked, as Sarah gave the two foals their sketti smelling treat. “Several days, at least.” Sarah replied. “Long enough to where the multiple injuries to these two likely happened.”

Both foals began to yawn almost immediately and began to put their heads down. The sedative worked quickly, but also burned through fluffies quickly, so Sarah’s window wasn’t a large one.

Sarah turned on her computer’s projector and brought up the scans of the yellow filly’s x-rays. “Out of the three, the filly has sustained the worst physical damage.” Sarah zoomed on her legs. “She was probably attacked by a feral stallion, who had proceeded to break both her femurs, and shattered at least one knee during the attack. Even if she had been a domestic fluffy, in the most controlled and germ free conditions, they’re so fragile at this stage that she would have lost her legs anyway. However, because her wounds had become infected, they had to go quickly. She should be fine so long as she continues to get her antibiotics. She got here just in time. But even that isn’t the worst of it.”

Sarah moved down to where the filly’s lower region was. “The filly came in missing her tail, and judging by the damage, it looked like it was torn off, likely by the feral stallion. She has also sustained significant trauma to her vaginal area, which means she was likely sexually assaulted.”

Bobby found that he had clenched his fist, tight enough that his knuckles were white.

“Normally, this type of attack tends to be fatal to a small filly. However, her age at the attack, plus the fact that her attacker was...ummmm.well...less gifted in the…..”

“I got it.” Bobby replied.

Sarah smiled a grateful, somewhat embarrassed smile. Despite how long she had been doing this, describing fluffy penis’ remained a bit of a shy spot for her. “...she was able to survive it. She is lucky. Any bigger the stallion, or if she was smaller, and she would have died. Most do.” Sarah turned back to the display. “With that said, her uterus and ovaries were severely damaged, meaning that she is sterile. With that said, usually when fillies are subjected to that at that age, they tend to lose the desire to have foals anyhow. I’m sorry. We are just lucky we were able to save her urinary tract.”

Sarah changed the screen to show Green’s x-rays. “As for your second colt, mentally, the green colt has taken the most damage. We have some evidence of mental trauma and some damage to portions of the brain. With that said, he is remarkably functional, and seems to be a loving pet, although his memory is rather hazy past a couple of days.”

Bobby frowned as he pondered over this new bit of information. “So you’re saying he may have memory loss?”

“More like a complete reset, judging by the damage, as well as from the conversations with the three foals.” More like the one foal, Sarah thought to herself. Blue had been the one to supply that information to her, as Yellow had been in surgery. “Green’s memories really only go back a day or so, while Yellow’s recall tends to go back a bit further. One key difference between the two is that unlike Green, she does remember her mother. The one with the sharpest recall is Blue, as his memory tends to be the best and the longest. From what I gather, Green before the attack was developing some smarty tendencies, although the damage seems to have cured that, much to his benefit.” Sarah turned off the display and headed back to the table. “Personality changes after mental trauma does exist for fluffies, although only in very rare cases do aspects of their previous personalities ever resurface. He is who he is now, for better or for worse.”

Bobby nodded, and had found himself petting the green colt. He cooed in his sleep before rolling over to his side. A small dent could be seen at the back of his head. He also could see that he was missing….

“Almost forgot. I’m guessing whoever gave him the blow to the head also did some damage to his testicles. We had to amputate the...remainder of what was left. He’ll be fine, in time. Although both him and his sister will be on temporary catheters until they heal.”

Bobby looked over to Blue, who remained asleep throughout the whole thing. “And as for the last one?”

Sarah shook her head with a smile. It was refreshing to have good news as a fluffy vet, especially considering the almost battlefield medic-like nature of the job at times. “Nothing at all, really. Aside from a few bruises around his stomach, he’s a perfectly healthy foal. He’s also probably the only reason why these two are still alive. Not only was he their only food source, it also sounds like he was the one who insisted on keeping them together. He’s a smarty, alright.”

Bobby looked over the Blue earthy colt in confusion. “I don’t recall him calling himself a smarty.”

Sarah laughed. “I apologize. Poor choice of words. Intelligence in fluffies tends to be a rare trait. Smarties only think they are smart, but in reality, the majority are morons or sadistic bastards. Intelligent fluffies are rather rare, even more so outside of the allicorn variety. Usually, they get rejected by their mothers, or are murdered by smarty’s who suddenly feel threatened.” Sarah drifted off as she began to think further about the talk she had with Blue. He was smart. Too smart. She began to recall one other instance of a foal similar to Blue, one that had ended badly months before. “I’ve only really ever met a foal like him once before. Just one.”

She frowned as the events of the night began to flood back to her now. She would have to check her notes she had taken about that night. Sarah scratched the colt behind the ear. “I would like to keep tabs on him, for research purposes.”

Bobby braced himself for the follow up question, one that needed to be asked. “With them on the road to recovery, what are their chances of being adopted together?”

Sarah sighed. This next part was going to be the toughest, mostly because usually Good Samaritans rarely cared for their charges once they were brought it. Bobby seemed to be a bit different, but still on the fence. She’d have to be careful.

“Honestly, close to none. Out of the three, the Blue Colt has the most attractive colors, and is the only one that is relatively healthy. The Yellow filly has good colors, but without her legs, and being infertile, she likely would only be adopted by abusers, or someone wanting a “enfie toy” for their breeding stallion.” Blue was cooing from Sarah’s gentle stroking.

Bobby turned toward the Green fluffy, who had begun to wake up and was now groggily making his way towards his pet rock. “Dare I ask?”

Sarah shook her head. “Just on those colors alone, he’d be snake food, a litter pal, an enfie-toy, or euthanized by the end of the week. And while we could try to insist that whoever adopts the Blue colt should adopt the other two, there is no legal way to enforce it, or to make sure that whoever adopts the trio doesn’t dispose of the unwanted ones once they leave.” Sarah braced herself for the sell. She could already tell Bobby was starting to waiver. “To be honest, the only way to make sure that these three stay together is if you were to take them.”

Bobby sighed. He had been afraid of this. From the moment he first took them from behind the alley, he had been going back and forth about what to do. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he should taken them in. Not because of the rent, or the potential for bother. It came, rather, from something personal that had happened a year ago.


Bobby had first adopted Biscuit with his ex-girlfriend, Claire, when she was just a tiny foal. She had nice colors, being light blue with a dark red mane and tail. She had been a rather nice and happy pet, taking to litterbox training easily, not demanding of sketties or toys, and content to sitting on his lap while he was relaxing from a hard day. In spite of Biscuit being a joint decision, she had really been Bobby’s pet.

However, Claire had been going into a dark place since the death of her mother, and had been sinking into a darker and darker depression. She hadn’t wanted to talk to him about it, nor had wanted to seek help. Claire on the outside put on a good show, but privately, seemed to be getting more and more miserable. She began to spend more and more time away from the house, until one day, she told him the truth.

“I’ve met someone else.”

Bobby recalled the pain in his chest as she told him. He had suspected, but had never wanted to push her about it. He had loved her, and didn’t want to lose her. Not then. The only question he had was…


Claire turned away, not a tear in her eye. “He makes me feel alive.”

Bobby scowled. “That’s a load of crap. I’ve been good to you, I’ve never hurt you, always tried to provide for us.”

Claire rounded on him in anger. “I never asked for any of that. I never asked for you to tie me down. I want my freedom, and honestly, all of this domestic shit we’ve been playing at is just what it is, it’s fake. I don’t love you. I don’t know if I ever did.”

Bobby was stunned, and hurt. His world was shattering.

It was then that Biscuit had walked in the room. She had been watching from the corner of her saferoom, and had been panicking over her parents fighting. Even though the majority of her time had been spent with Bobby, she wanted them to remain together. It was then she made her fatal mistake: Biscuit decided to get involved.

“Why mummah nu wuv Daddeh? Daddeh am gud Daddeh?” She said, climbing up on her leg.

“I never wanted to be your Mummah, you stupid piece of shit. I just adopted you because HE wanted you.” Claire snapped, kicking the mare hard. Biscuit soared across the room, scattering crap and tears as her neck hit the corner of the small hallway that lead to the front door. A loud “CRACK” was head as BIscuit’s neck snapped.

Claire put her hands to her mouth in shock as Bobby ran to Biscuit, who was sobbing. The sight he saw was horrible. BIscuit’s neck was snapped, and her mouth and limbs were moving as she was dying. Bobby cradled the tiny horse in his arms as she looked up at him, eyes wild in fear.

“Nu feww weggies, Daddeh.”

Bobby was crying. “It’s okay, Biscuit. I’ve got you.” He held her closer, trying like hell to make sure her she wasn’t in pain. Claire had sunken to her feet, crying. She didn’t mean for this to happen. She hadn’t wanted to cause any more pain than she had to.

Biscuit was eerily calm. “It otteh, Daddeh. Daddeh...am...gud...Daddeh….” She shuddered, as the final throws began to overcome her. She tried to keep her eyes focused on the most important person in her world, for as long as the rapidly extinguishing light remained in her. Eventually, she stopped, as if she had finally given up the fight. Her eyes had rolled backwards. It was over.

Bobby sobbed and cradled the fluffy close to him. He never heard Claire pack up the remainder of her things. He had never heard the front door close as she walked out of his life. All he saw was the key to his townhouse, and a hastily scribbled note..



I’m sorry. For all of the hurt. I didn’t mean to.

- C


To be honest, Bobby had really made the decision earlier, probably from the moment Biscuit had passed. When he first had heard about the amount of abuse the foals had already suffered, he thought of the pain Biscuit had experienced at her passing, and how horrible it would have been if these little ones had been picked up by someone worse. Though the status of fluffies wasn’t technically animals, they still felt, lived, breathed, and loved, somewhat. Plus, he had gotten somewhat attached to the Blue one, who had demonstrated himself to be a capable critter, and not one of the hell demons like the one next door, currently screeching as one of the aides began roughly prepping her for surgery.

Bobby wiped a tear from his eye. “Then they’ll stay together.”

Green and Yellow looked over to Bobby in delight. “Nice mistuah am nyu daddeh! Yay!” Both threw their front legs up in joy.

Sarah smiled a sign of relief. She had panicked when she saw Bobby drift away a bit. “They will be a bit of work, especially since two of them have...shortcomings.”

Bobby nodded, smiling in return. “Don’t worry. This isn’t my first rodeo with fluffies. We’ll leave it at that.”

Sarah smiled. “Let’s get you ready then. I’ll prep them to travel. I also have some special kibble and supplements that I picked up from a supplier in Colorado for an event like this.” Sarah took a look at the Blue colt one last time, who was yawning as his siblings were letting him know the good news. Just for an event like this...


Bobby paid the bill and, in ten minutes, had a small travel carrier that he was able to mount on his bike as he travelled the short distance to his townhouse in the Westside of Albuquerque. The foals had been rather good the entire trip, with only Green complaining about the “metaw munstah” that he was having to ride. Yellow seemed uneasy, while Blue seemed to rather enjoy the feeling of the air going fast behind him. Had he been a wingie babbeh, he would have thought he was flying.

It was when they got home that Bobby let the three little ones outside of their travel carrier for the first time. The three foals looked in wonder at the wide expanse of carpet, furniture and tile that lay before them.

“Dis am nyu homsie?” Yellow said in wonder.

“It am beautifuw…” Green began to sob.

Blue looked up to Bobby. “Fank yu fo hewpin Bwuddah and Sissy.”

Bobby looked down and smiled. “Well, if you guys are going to stay, we need to do something first.”

Blue cocked an eyebrow, and Yellow and Green began to worry. “Nice mistah nu be nyu daddeh?” Green began to tear.

Bobby knelt down. “Yes I am. But I can’t be having you guys calling each other bwuddah and sissy.” He chuckled internally at his own use of fluff-speak. “You guys need names.”

The three flufflies cheered in delight. “Yay! Wan namsies!”

Bobby smiled and picked up the yellow filly, wheels and all. “You, little girl, are yellow like the sun. And since it’s almost time for sunset, I think I’ll name you Sunset.”

Sunset cheered. “Yay! Sunset wuv nyu namsie!”

Green was excited, and filling up his catheter in the excitement. “Wittwe bwuddah nex!”

Bobby picked up the Green colt, mindful of his catheter. “As for you, you’re built solid, like a tank. So I think I’ll name you that. Tank.”

Tank put his legs in the air. “Yay! Am Tankie! Wuv nu namsie.”

Bobby smiled as he put him down. He took a good, hard look at Blue, the only one who was remaining silent, yet looking at his siblings with a mixture of love and relief. He was quiet, like the calm before a storm.

That was it.

Picking up Blue, Bobby said, “And as for you, you’re now Storm.”

Storm smiled happily. “Fank yu fo namesie, Bobbeh.”

Bobby nodded. “Come on, let’s get you guys set up.”

Bobby fed the foals, and while they ate, he began to set up Biscuits old saferoom, complete with toys, bed, and litterbox. He knew he would have to be patient with the two injured foals, at least for the first week. He also resolved to get separate beds. However, when Bobby went to check on the foals, he found them snuggled together, much like they had been during their time in the alley. Together, in a fluffpile, safe at last.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for bearing with me on my first story. The trio will return soon.
As for what comes next, I have a couple of other stories to talk about in this corner of New Mexico. So, stay tuned...


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WestMesaFluffCollector: For the next post, I do have a couple of half finished ideas to play around with:

Biscuit's story, much of which was cut for length, but can probably be worked into a stand alone story.

A good old abuse adventure with the teen gang from Chapter 3.

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RevMe: This was a really great one – I loved this story. Well done!
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GewawtofWivia: You know, it's stories like this that keep me coming back to the booru time and again. Thank you for writing a story with characters that feel real, even though they're only imaginary pig-hamsters.

Upload again soon!
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BRBR: Excellent story!

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Anders_Breivik: Well written, but way too hugboxy for my refined tastes. I hoped for some horrible death for all three little monsters.
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Vanguard: And then Bobby and Sarah fucked.

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WestMesaFluffCollector: @Vanguard: Ha!

@Anders_Breivik: Tune in next week.
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Nuuu: Thanks for the read.
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ElFluffyWatcher: I wonder why most women working with fluffies (Read vets, breeders, etc.) are so hot? Anyways, good work, I liked the story. I always say that a little hugbox makes the abuse sweeter but for my surprise this time the abuse made the hugbox sweeter.

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MONEJO: Thanks again! Excellent!

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BinBarbarian: Loved it.

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BinBarbarian: Loved it. It was so good. I rarely read, so yea.

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sexygoatgod: This is one of the few stories to really get me in the heart. I love these three. And the rock having the bandaid on it made my night, that was adorable.
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Anonymous1: I mostly come here to see the arrogant shitrat morons die horribly, but I will always love a good hugboxish story where the fluffies actually deserve happiness.
Storm is awesome, wouldnt mind having him as a pet whatsoever.

Excellent read.
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FluffyIQ: Greenie/Tank is adorable now that he was derped.
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Anonymous2: 10/10 love this story.