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**Tales from County Lock Up**

‘Ok buckle in lads old Jerry has a tale for you. First though just a bit of context. A morsel, a small tidbit, a nugget of information if you will. A few years back I saw a picture of someone who used a jar as a sorry box. My young mind cherend that image over and said to me, ‘What if they left it in that jar?’ I'm not meaning for like a few days or a week I mean permanently. What would happen to a shit rat forced to grow into a space that wasn't going to grow with it? That, my sadistic county jail friends is where this tale begins, and sitting here with you fine folk is how it ends.’

It took me forever to find the perfect jar for the task. It needed to be big enough to keep the fun going for a while, but not to big or the fluffy would just pop out when things got tight. After a few weeks of searching I laid my eyes upon its smooth glassy glory. There in the back of the Sam's club was a truly impressive specimen of the pickle jar species. Over a foot and a half tall and half again as wide(45cm for my friends everywhere else on the globe) this bad boy was stuffed stem to stern with green pickled goodness. Its brine so green it could make the irish weep for joy of its sight. After another week of eating pickles for damn near every meal (I'm not gonna just throw them out I'm an abuser not a monster) I was set to go find the jars future resident. Or at least I would be, right after I spent a few days shitting my brains out from practically pickling my intestines.

‘So there I was on the mean streets stalking about looking for my pray.’

‘How hard can it be to find a shit rat in the middle of a fucking city?’ I was thinking by that point because I had walked nearly 12 blocks of back alleys and side streets. Not that I’m in horrible shape but winter had just ended and this was my first long walk in awhile so cut me some slack. Plus I never had to source my own victims before. Usually the glorious leaders in their infinite wisdom saw fit to gather then all into one location for me to peruse. Much like a grocery store I could browse the shelves till I found something perfect. Sadly the shelter caught on after an employee recognized me and asked how my brown earthy fluffy was doing. I was just about to spit out some bullshit about getting him a friend when another employee rounded on me. She ask how my orange pegasus was adapting to its new home. I quickly began to reformulate my bullshit trying to find a way to spin wanting a third fluffy when. The manager coming up to thank me again for adopting that pillowed mare with all her babies a few weeks before. Now I'm thinking why the fuck are all you fucks in the same place at the same fucking time! Isn't there some legless shitrat who needs his ass wiped or something? I looked at them they looked at each other then slowly turned to me with a mixture of horror, and anger. Needless to say I was ass cheeks and elbows out the door, and did not plan to frequent that establishment again any time soon.

Combining my exile from the shelter, and the city only just emerging from the aforementioned winter, which was cold like we hadn't seen in 30 years and you can imagine the pickings were slim to none.

So I walked around the city like a moron ruminating on the stupidity of adopting 3 Fluffies rapid fire from the same shelter when I heard it.

‘Twashie nummies nu smeww pwetty! Nee find bettaw nummies fow bestest babbeh.’

I slowed my pace and moved my body to the wall preparing my trap as I listened.

‘Nu be meanie to gud bested babbeh nu mowe twashie bag.’ ‘Fwuffy nee nummies su can gwow up big an stwong’ It seemed to take a moment from batting its marshmallow like hooves against the bag to sniffle before saying. ‘Nu wan gu fowevew sweepies wike dummeh mummah and stuppie bwudda an sissies.’

I crouched low like the dangerous and willy huntsmen I am and set my trap. Tapping into strength reserves hitherto unknown to me, and in one pull I ripped the ring top pull tab and lid from the can of dollar store spaghetti rings. A wash of cheap pasta scent and sauce from the lid sprayed into the air like Italian tear gas, and within a scant moment a teal unicorn Fluffy weanling with a green mane sprinted around the corner trash bag forgotten as much as god forgot man.

‘Dummeh homin gib bestest babbeh sketties nao!’ It immediately demanded upon seeing me. It was perfect in everyway. This weanling could not be more than a few weeks to a month past weaning, and from the looks of its body it sucked at finding food. I could easily cram it in to pickle peet's glassy mouth with room to spare.

‘Well aren't you a little go getter! Upfront and quick to ask for what you want, got to say I like the cut of your jib tell you what you can have the spaghetti on one condition.’

‘Bestest babbeh nu hab hurties on jib gib sketties tu make tummie hurties gu way dummeh ow bestest babbeh gib yu sowwy poopies!’

‘Sure will but only if you agree to come live with me!’ I said with a smile that bordered closer to maniacal then I’m proud to admit, but hey catching a fluffy was new to me and I was excited, so sue me.

The thing vibrated like a struck bell growing a smile that was equal parts happy and shocked. ‘Yu am new daddeh fow bested babbeh Fwuffie! Fwuffie pwomis be su gud and gib wots an wots of wub and huggies! Fwuffy su cited Nyu Daddeh Nyu Daddeh Nyu Daddeh!’ The little shit rat called out over and over as it danced around on it little peg hooves. Im thinking we will see how well you dance in your new glass hell.

I poured the cheap ass spaghetti rings on the ground which it ate so fast I think it forgot to breath a few times, because it wobbled and almost fell a few times before drawing in a shape breath. Before immediately beginning to eat again. Once it finished devouring the whole can I picked it up and carried it back through the alleys 12 blocks to where I parked my shit box of a beater car.

In hindsight I had not thought this through. As I hauled the deceptively heavy little fuck I realized I didn't even bring a box. Idk if part of me figured I wouldn't find a shitrat or if I'm just stupid (probably the second one), but it was a decision I regretted quickly. After driving for about 30 minutes to get out of the city center the fluffy in the passenger seat emitted a slow long gurgling followed by a wave of watery Diarrhea.

At first the little fuck just stood there on the seat with the most mind fucked blissed out look on its face as its ass cannon hosed down the front of the seat. The stench my god. I can't even begin to describe it and won't attempt to. Because while the stench was horrendous the quantity oh god the quantity was worse. That shitrat fluffy despite being so skinny somehow shrunk even more and its stomach seemed to cave it. Completely unable to stop what I was seeing I watched in horror as what had to be at least a gallon of brown muck erupted from its anus like a broken faucet. What made it harder to bear was that so much of it was made of practically undigested spaghetti rings.

The fluffy looked up at me seeming to all the world like nothing bad has happened. But he must of caught the look on my face or his brain must of finally turned on because he whispered. ‘Bad poopies’ as if trying the words on for size before a terribly fake look of horror started to take hold on his face as well. ‘BAD POOPIES! NU MEAN NU MEAN GIB SOWWY POOPIES TO NYU DADDEH METAW MUNSTAH NU MEAN MAKE BAD POOPS.’

‘Bestest babbeh pwomis nu make mow bad poopies hehe’ It said as the little fuck turned to start trying to kick all the liquid shit off the seat with its hooves. So now I had a small fluffy coated in its own shit rubbing said shit deeper in to my long suffering car’s already tattered interior. I had to look away from the carnage and just roll down the windows. You know they say most artist suffer for their work but I really don't think Picasso had to deal with hyper shitting pig, horse, rat chimeras.

The Fluffy went on the entire time about how excited it was and how I would have to give it ‘mow skettie nummies’ and the ‘bestest toysies’. I just ignored him until I got home where trying my very best to remember I needed him ALIVE for my plan, grabbed him took him inside. I wasn't about to leave him somewhere he could make more of a mess though so I ditched him in the bathtub for safekeeping while I went back outside to deal with the car. An hour later me a hose and 2 bottles of laundry soap, combined with a bunch of random cleaners from under the sink had almost managed to cleaned out the car which was now sitting all doors open in the hope it would dry out, and maybe be able to host human life again someday.

‘How is their more shit?!?’ I said completely bewildered. He shit so much in the car, and there was nothing he had eaten or drank since then. How was it possible?

‘Dummeh Daddeh put bestest babbeh in sowwy box.’ he said puffing his cheeks out. So bestest babbeh gib sowwy box sowwy poopies Hehe.’ ‘Smawt bestest babbeh am tu smawty fow dummeh daddeh nao dummy daddeh gib wicky cweanie and mow bestest sketties!’ He stomped a little and blew a raspberry at me for good measure. I was experiencing some new emotions. Inraged part of me was so fucking mad I wanted to cut off his legs with a potato peeler and feed him his deep fried ‘speciaw wumps.’ Another part of me reviled at the thought of how good it was going to feel to watch him suffer in the jar. The fight between those to halves paused me for a moment but when I came back I just grabbed the shower head down and turned on the water.

‘WAWA AM BAD FOW FWUFFIES SCREEEEEEEE REEEEE SCREEeEeEEEEeeE.” he panicked and started trying to climb out of the tub but his stubby legs had no way to grip the side so he basically tumbled about flailing in the bottom of the tub until I grabbed him. I took a little pleasure and probably ruffed him up a bit more than I should've when I manhandled him into position. I worked my inner Poseidon and hosing him off with the maximum fury my cheaply built and poorly maintained tub could bring to bear. I worked and rubbed in some cheap ass shampoo with extra care to make sure just a bit got into his eyes. 5 minutes of scrubbing and he was finally clean.

I was a little pissed it was turning out to be a bestest babbeh little smartie in the making shit because half the fun in torchering the little shits was their lack of understanding. They would cry ‘Huu Huu fwuffy nu knu wha du wong huu huu,’ and they felt horrible because of it. A smarty on the other hand did not care and it was so fucking hard to get them to feel anything except self righteous indignation for their abuse. They would hurl insults and scream on and on about how good they were and how bad and stupid you were for defying gods little gift to man. All the while you just get more frustrated because fuck I just wanted to break something so FUCKING BREAK WILL YOU.

Sorry little off topic anyway. I walked him toward the kitchen while drying him with an old towel.

‘Hue STUPPIE DUMMEH DADDEH.’ Why gib bestest babbeh wawa hurties an see pwace huwties.’ ‘Put smawt babbeh down an gib bestest babbeh skettie nao!’ He said while beginning to thrash.

‘Those were bad poopies,’ I said locking eyes with him trying to seem disappointed while I walking into the kitchen. Their between the electric stove and sink on a thin piece of counter was my absolute unit of a jar.

‘Fluffies who do bad poops have to be punished,’ I said holding him over the jar. NU CAWE PUT SMARTIE BABBEH DOWN NAO DUMMEH OW GIT SOWWY POOPIES AN WOWOEST HUWTIES!’ He practically spat the words at me as I lifted him over the jars hungry mouth.

‘As you wish,’ I said with a quick grin and release of the now confirmed smartie. He fell with a quick scree and oof into the jar sticking just a bit on his mid section before his weight and velocity pushed him through to land with a thud. The smartie took up about half of the jars space if he stood on his legs he could just reach the top of the jar but no higher. There was not enough room for him to sit down so i quickly slapped the jar lid with its pre drilled air holes to ensure the little fuck stayed put.

‘REEEEEE WET SMAWTY OWT NAO! NU WAN DUMMEH DADDEH STUPPIE POOPIE NU SEE HOWSIE.’ He pounded on the jar’s sides with alternating hooves unable to really get a full swing he started thrashing around. He puffed out his cheeks and lifted his tail but nothing came out. I guess the category 4 shit storm in my car and the minor shit aftershocks in the tub had him fully drained.

He carried on for a bit, and honestly I enjoyed the muffled protests and angry screams coming from the jar. I had to lay it on its side before he could wobble it over though. I watched as condensation from his breath started to build up on the walls and had another fun idea. I grabbed the jar and sat it on the floor carefully lined it up with the living room and gave it a hard shove. The jar sped across the kitchen floor its occupant smashed around the inside before being stuck to one wall by centrifugal force. It stopped shortly after reaching the carpet of the living room and I sauntered over to inspect my handy work.

‘Huu huu *sniff* huu why dummeh daddeh gib huwties to bestest smawty huu.’ I could see him crying and rubbing a streak of red in to his front leg fluff from a nosebleed. I decided to ease up. This is some slow burn abuse shit can't be breaking him fucking around so early.

I grabbed the jar and lugged it back to the kitchen jamming it between the microwave and the stove so it didn't role off the counter. Taking a big cup full of kibble and a fluffy water bottle I lifted the jar and unscrewed the lid. As he continued to shout at me to ‘Wet owt NOA.’ He looked up at me with a look of triumph and puffed out his cheeks. Those cheeks quickly deflated when I just dumped a bunch of kibble on him and resealed the jar. I jammed the nozzle of the water bottle through an air hole and called it a day. Going back to the living room after to watch some tv while listening to the indignant smartie going off behind me.

‘DUMMEH DADDEH NU WAN KIBBLE WAN BESTEST SKETTIES FOW BESTEST SMAWTY REEEEEEEE!’

I just ignored him and watched tv for a few hours before turning in for the night. I won't lie, laying in bed I had more than a little twinge of excitement to wake up and see what would await me in that jar come morning.

I woke up and like a giddy child I ran to the kitchen to observe the fruits of my labors. I was not disappointed. Sitting as close to the lid end of the jar was one very filthy fluffy. He was coated in shit and piss his teal fur had taken on a sickly green hue from being so thoroughly slathered in the vial mess. He looked up at me and puffed out his cheeks before quickly deflating them and putting on a sad look.

‘Hue bestest sma… fwuffy nu smeww pwetty daddeh pwease wet gud fwuffy owt of nu see howsie nu smeww pwetty an nu see howsie am to smaww.’ he said it with a deeply whiny voice really playing up on his misery. I decided fuck it lets play along.

I took him to the sink and dumped him out of the jar. It took a bit of time to get him free his matted fur not helping issues at all. Once free though he immediately spun around in the sink and blew a raspberry at me.

‘He he bestest smawty twick dummeh daddeh! Nao am owt of stuppie nu see howsie nao gib bestest smawt
ywickie cweanies ow get wowstest hurties and sowwy poopies.’ I couldn't help but smile he seemed so triumphant and happy wearing a big shit eating grin as he made demands. I reached over and turned on the faucet and blasted him down with cold water.

‘SCREEEEEE WAWA AM TU COWDIES AM BAD FOW BESTEST SMAWTY SCREEE.’ Que more thrashing more screeing and more cold water untill he was pretty well rinsed off. I gave the jar a quick rinse and jammed him back in.

‘Huu nu wan sorry nu see howsie nu wan nu wan NU WAN WET BESTEST SMAWTY OWT NAO DUMMEH!’ He yelled at me trying to reach the top of the jar as I dumped in more kibble before resealing the lid.

Things get kinda repetitive for a bit, and it took about a week of rinse feed repeat before anything really changed. Over all except for complaining more and more that ‘weggies hab huwties’ he seemed healthy he was certainly growing and shitting although his fluff did seem to be thinning and turning a bit duller on his belly and under sides. It was at the end of the first week I could not fit him through the jars mouth any more. His head could just squeeze through but his shoulders and rib cage were 2 wide. Since I couldn't get him out of the jar anymore and I wasn't quite ready to enact the last part of my plan I had to improvise. I got a thinner hose and taped it to the faucet to make a little extension I could snake in around his neck. Once in I would turn it on. Id let it run full bore until the water came out clean. He hated it which I loved. Week 3 when his neck finally grew too wide to sneak the hose past I knew it was time. This meant baths were a thing of the past and the clock was now definitely counting down. For you see I had been waiting for this moment. With his body to big to escape the jar and his neck now sealing it all it took was a light coating of silicon bathtub caulking to make a watertight seal. From that moment on anything that entered his mouth would remain in the jar.

The first day was relatively normal, or at least as normal as it could be for a fluffy in a jar. The smarty would alternate between begging me to let him out, crying incoherently, and screaming the vilest things he could think of while demanding I let the ‘Gud Smawtygu NAO.’ as the week rolled on though I could tell he was starting to feel some pressure. His breathing was a bit more labored and he seemed to struggle more and more to shit. His body at least the parts I could see around filth and through the jar were also starting to change.

I for my part just kept feeding my growing boy, though he was refusing to eat more and more often. Watching his body press tighter and tighter against the glass swimming in a sea of his own filth was my new passion, and I could stare for hours. I think his hooves impressed me the most. Did you know being constantly wet in an acidic environment will make them turn white and begin flaking apart? Neither did I! His fluff seems to be pretty much detached by the end of the first week of being totally sealed up, and simply floating in dense clumps in the ever shrinking voids of the jar he did not yet fill. Where his exposed skin pressed against the jar it was deep red with white cracks. They oozed a slow trickle of blood and puss.

A few days more and I knew it was time to end this. It was time for the grand finale. My smarty looked close to death and before the last of his strength faded I needed him to experience one last horror. To really know how much he was fucked and to fully feel the depths of suffering. If not for my own sick amusement then for my poor car that still smelled like shit all these weeks later.

‘Wet Smawty *haff haff* gu pwease nu wan nu *haff haff* see howsie pwomise *haff haff haff*... wiww be gud fwuffy huu huu. Hab su manw huwties *haff haff* an nu can feew weggies huu huu hu.’ He said and by this point each word seemed to be agony, and he seemed to run out of breath fast. He really had to work hard to breath at this point and I knew the pressure in the jar must be just about right. I think he might of been starting to be completely sincere about being a ‘gud fwuffy’ but I hadn't come this far to hugbox the fuck out. He weased and his eyes which had started to yellow looked up at me pleading.

Walking in to the back yard my jarred fluffy in my arms I stared at his final destination. A large metal mixing bowl filled with boiling water on top of my grill was secured firmly with a few welds so that it would not move. 5 feet away and lowered to only 5 feet of the ground a basketball hoop. That poor shitrat had no idea what was about to happen but I sure did. Weeks had lead up to this moment. I carefully loaded the jar in to the boiling water laying it at an angle against the side to keep the fluffies head over the side and out of the water, but aimed at the center of the backboard. The clock was ticking and I moved back and flopped my as into a yard chair to wait. It took about 3 minutes for the heat of the water to penetrate the jar and warm it enough for the fluffy to start bitching.

‘Hu huu no see *haff* howsie *haff haff* am tu warmsies hu.’ he bitched still struggling to breath

‘Gonna get a lot hotter to you little shitrat.’ I shouted back starting to get even more excited. This was it here it comes I thought. Well not quickly anyway it took about 20 minutes but then his panting and crying started to turn in to sustained screams and rees and about 5 minutes after that…

‘SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE GLLGGURURRRPTTT.’ was what it sounded like as I watched the fluffies jaw extend, his eyes bulge unnaturally and way to far as a mass of blood, tangled flesh and bial pushed his jaws away and apart with a sickening tearing snap moment before the silicon caulking gave way and with a base rumbling, ‘WHOOOMPH’ the partially inside out fluffy was launched from the jar so fast I only saw a red streak hit the backboard with a deafening, ‘WHAMM.’ followed by me, my house, my neighbors homes, and probably the people across the street being shown with a fine red mist and bone shards.

I stood and clapped. What else can you do when the plan all comes together. I must of been basking in the glory of my gory three pointer for a bit longer then I thought because right about then the police showed up.

Prick neighbor called the cops because of the explosion and blood mist. They took one look at me smiling like an idiot coated in blood, and well here we are sharing these lovely accommodations. I won't be here long though fluffies are toys not animals and here in Kentucky no judge is gonna give me shit for breaking one. Well they may get me for disturbing the peace but the fluffy well they wont give a shit about it. I'm already planning my next abuse. The jar survived the blast unlike its occupant and let's just say misery loves company!
Uploader Researcher_7201,
Tags abuse abuse_for_the_sake_of_abuse explicit gore jar poopeh smawty
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Researcher_7201: And now for something completely different. Tried something new and tried to make my formatting better along with paragraph structure. Just a fun little tale from our new friend Jerry. Part 4 of the FWA litter pal is coming next.
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Anonymous1: if fluffies were real, and this guy was my neighbor, the fun we would have!
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Anonymous2: Thats the kind of fucked up that belongs here. I like the style of some guy just telling a tale.

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sexygoatgod: This has got to be one of my new favorite stories on the booru.
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Anonymous3: One of the best ones i read here. Pls keep writing m8

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Anders_Breivik: An explosive ending!