abuse artist:draytini feral making_a_monster poopie-colors poopie_babbeh rape rescue wan_die

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Matt couldn’t sleep.

He was exhausted. Working such long hours hand drained him and he’d been afraid he would have fallen asleep on the commute. But now he couldn’t sleep.

When Matt had purchased his sorry stick, he hadn’t expected to use it. He knew that fluffies responded well to negative reinforcement, but Arion had been so well behaved that he foolishly believed he’d never need to punish the fluffy. Still, seeing Arion on the couch after a long day of work had made him mad; mad enough to use the sorry stick and give the foal a quick lesson in following the rules.

Fortunately, Arion had seemed to understand why he was being punished rather than just that he was just being hit, and Matt went hard enough that Arion would be sore tomorrow, but no lasting pain would surface.

No, the disciplining had gone well, and Matt was convinced he’d have no more real issues with Arion. That wasn’t what kept him up.

His heart was beating rapidly. He had a lightness in his head, almost like a high. Something had been awoken deep inside him when he hit Arion. Something… cruel.

Matt knew abusers existed, and while he didn’t support animal abuse, there was always something different about abusing fluffies. Even in the public eye, it was seen as a vice that was fine as long as you didn’t steal another person’s fluffy or leave rotting corpses everywhere.

Matt had never partaken in abuse, not really. In college it had been pretty popular to snatch fluffies up from the woods around campus and fuck with them, usually by making them drink and laughing about how they handled alcohol or racing them against each other. A few kids he knew had shoved firecrackers up their asses and watched as they ran around in pain until they exploded. He’d never really taken part in that though. He’d kicked a few aggressive smarty ferals away, or sprayed water at a small heard as they tried to break into his yard, but nothing one would consider abuse.

Hitting Arion had changed that. Having something so frail, so weak, in his lap. Striking it, making Arion feel pain and knowing there was nothing the fluffy could do, it had whetted Matt’s appetite for more. He wanted to do it again. He wanted to cause that pain, feel that power, again.

But not to Arion. He was good, a sweet fluffy who Matt genuinely liked. No, if Matt was going to taste the forbidden fruit of abuse again, he would need another target.

Groaning at the dark place his thoughts had taken him, Matt rolled over on his side. He would plot tomorrow, but for now he desperately needed sleep.

* * *

Morning rolled around and Matt felt even less refreshed. His dreams had been a blur of nightmare and fantasy; fluffies dying by his hand in horrible ways while Arion cried in the background asking why. Matt groggily rubbed his eyes and got out of bed, hoping the hot water of a morning shower would wash away the guilt.

Arion was still locked in his safe-room when Matt finished showering and dressing. He’d taken a few days off after the calamity at work and even though he was ‘on-call’ it was really ‘don’t call unless something really bad happens.’ He hoped that he could get some one on one time with Arion.

“Arion? You awake little guy?” Matt said softly as he opened the safe-room door.

Arion was curled up in a little ball, much like a cat would, on his soft nest of blankets and pillows. His back rose and fell as he took slow deep breaths, clearly still sleeping peacefully.

There were some turds in the litter box but, true to the vet’s word, they were logs and not the vile liquid shit fluffies were known for. Turns out feeing a high-fiber diet did wonders for them.

Not wanting to disturb Arion’s sleep, Matt quietly withdrew from the room and gently closed the door behind him. He would clean the box and feed Arion once the fluffy woke up.

It was fairly early, only 8:30, and Matt settled on some TV and coffee to wait for his fluffy to get up. According to the vet Arion was in early adolescence and Matt remembered wanting to sleep for 11 hours when he was a teenager.

Brewing a strong cup of coffee, Matt looked out his kitchen window into his yard. It was a meager little plot of land with a small patio. He didn’t have much of a green thumb and didn’t really enjoy spending time outside. With winter approaching his yard would also be filled with snow soon, and while he was sure Arion would love to play in it a bit, it meant going outside would be a no go for some time.

Preoccupied with his coffee, Matt almost missed the slight movement from the corner of his small backyard.

It was a fluffy.

Correction, it was several fluffies. A small heard from the look of it. A blue and red unicorn led the bunch through a small gap between two boards in his fence. Behind him were two earthies; one orange and yellow, and the other blue and green. His ‘toughies’ Matt surmised.

Behind the toughies were four more fluffies: an all pink mare who was heavily pregnant; a blue and black pegasus who, judging by his attentions to the pink mare, was the father of her foals; a black and white mare who was also pregnant, though not as far along as pinkie; and a downtrodden looking yellow and green earthie.

The yellow-green earthie was clearly the black-and-white mare’s ‘special friend’ because he was attending her, but by the way she smacked him around with her hooves and the way he bowed his head constantly made it clear they weren’t the love birds blue-black and pinkie were.

Matt’s heart was racing. Here, served to him practically on a goddamned silver platter, were feral fluffies no one would care about if they went missing. Fluffies he could have his way with, he could do anything to them, and no one could stop him. The thought sent a perverse shiver of anticipation down his spine.

Matt double checked to make sure Arion was still asleep before running down into his basement. The basement was large and totally empty, save for some boxes. He’d never really needed the space but figured he could remodel it into a nice gaming room. Now, however, he’d found something even better to use it for.

Cleaning up some of the boxes, Matt grabbed some old moving blankets and threw them on the floor in a haphazard pile. He had a workbench down against one wall, along with all his tools, and a few large shelving units. Grabbing a wide but short box, Matt filled it with litter from one of the large bags he’d gotten from Fluff-Mart. The makeshift litterbox would have to do for now.

There was only the matter of a pen. Matt figured the back wall would serve well enough as there was no exit or doorway there, just a small window all the way at the top. Fluffies weren’t strong enough to move or break anything durable enough, but Matt didn’t have a gate or playpen like structure to stretch across the width of the basement. Looking around, he found a few boards left over from the fence construction, replacements and extras. Quickly he was able to secure them with some hinges allow him to make a two-board high wall that could be bent slightly to make a half-octagon shape. The “pen” was complete. He’d stop by Fluff-Mart tomorrow to get some more things.

Creeping back upstairs, Matt snuck to the back door. The fluffies were still there, thankfully, eating his grass and shitting all over his lawn. Matt carefully opened the door and stepped outside. The fluffies hadn’t noticed him yet, and he was able to get a better look at them.

The blue-red unicorn was clearly the smarty of the herd. He was talking to the toughies about how he was the “bestest smawty fo find bestest nummies.” The toughies were just nodding and eating, allowing the little idiot to prattle on. Each of the toughies had a few battle-wounds, the orange-yellow one was missing half an ear, and the blue-green one had scars on his back where no fluff grew.

The mares were in much better shape. Pinkie was happily munching on grass while singing her momma song, while the blue-black pegasus praised her and nuzzled her neck. The blue-black mare was eating and not singing at all but was instead praising the smarty for the yard he’d found them, all while shooting her special-friend dirty looks. The yellow-green stallion that tended to her ate slowly and sadly.

“Hello Fluffies,” Matt said, finally making his presence known.

There was a short gasp from the fluffies, then a moment of silence before one of the toughies shouted; “Hooman munstah!” Panic ensued.

The smarty and his toughies began to charge at Matt with all the speed of a two-legged dog while the mares panicked. Pinkie was too far along to move without her special friend’s help, but the poor moron was hiding under his hooves. Black-and-white was yelling at her special friend to move her to safety even though she could walk just fine.

“Guys! Guys!” Matt shouted, addressing the herd, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The smarty stopped in his tracks, causing the earthies behind him to stumble and fall. The mares both calmed down too, but the blue-green pegasus was still hiding under his hooves huuing softly.

“Hooman munstah nu huwt hewd?” The smarty asked, tilting his head inquisitively.

“That’s right, I’m not gonna hurt you guys.” Matt said, smiling. His heart was racing in his chest.

“Hmph! Gud! Hooman munstah gib smawty and hewd bestest nummies!” The smarty demanded, puffing his cheeks and stomping his little hooves. Matt understood why so many people beat the ever-loving shit out of smarties.

“Sure thing little buddy! If you come with me, I’ll give you guys some delicious nummies and a warm nestie!” Matt said, the smile on his face sickeningly wide at this point.

The smarty was reassured almost immediately and began to walk confidently towards the house. Pinky and her special friend, blue-black, follow him, along with one toughie and the black-and-white mare. The orange-yellow tougie and the yellow-green stallion stayed still, however.

“What’s wrong guys?” Matt asked.

“F-fwuffies nu twust. Hooman munsta am dangewus…” The toughie said, his eyes darting back to his scars. “Gib fwuffies wowstest huwties…”

“Did your old daddy do that to you?”

“Yus… owd daddeh gib fwuffy sowwy stick an wowstet huwties… take fwuffy pwetty fwuff...”

“Hmm well that sounds like a bad daddy! Everyone knows fluffies are for love and hugs!” Matt said. The stupid tagline that fluffies always said about themselves worked like a charm. The orange-yellow toughie’s eyes lit up and his ears perked.

“W..weawwy? Nice mistuh be nyu daddeh?” He asked, hope clear in his little baby-voice.

“Sure thing buddy. But we need to give you a name first!” Matt said, hoping naming the ferals would help keep track. “How about… Tangerine?”

“Tangewine wuv nyu name! Fank ‘ou daddeh!” Tangerine said, happily prancing around.

“Daddeh?” The yellow-green stallion asked, pawing gently at Matt’s leg. “Can fwuffy hab nyu name tu?” His pretty green eyes lit up, just as hopeful as Tangerine had been.

“Of course buddy,” Matt said as he ruffled the stallion’s mane. His fur was matted and greasy. “Your name will be… Leaf!”

The fluffy let out a gasp. “Fw- Weaf wuv nyu name! Fank ‘ou daddeh!” Leaf said, proudly stamping his little hooves.

“Alright guys, let’s name the rest of you!” Matt said, which got the attention of all the other fluffies. The black-and-white one became Charcoal, the all-pink mare became Pinkie, the blue-black pegasus became Navy, and the blue-green toughie became Aquamarine.

“Okay, you’re the last to get a new name.” Matt said to the smarty. His bright blue and deep red coat inspired Fourth of July themed names like Rocket or Sparky.

“Dummeh hooman, smawty aweady hab name.” The precocious fluffy said.

“Oh? What is it?’

“Name am Fiuh-wowk.” The smarty said proudly.

“Firework, huh?” Definitely a Fourth of July fluffly, probably sold on clearance. “So you had an owner before?”

“Das wight!” Firework said, stomping. “Bu’ dummeh hooman daddeh an’ mummah neba gib sketties ow bestest toysies ow anyfing! Su Fiuh-wowk wun ‘way.”

“Wow! You sure showed those dummy humans who was the smartest.” Matt said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Das wight!” The sarcasm was totally lost on the little idiot. “Nao yu dummeh hooman daddeh an’ gib swamty an hewd bestest nummies and housie and toysies!”

“Sure, sure… Right this way, then! Let’s get you into your new home!”

Matt led the fluffies to the small window that looked into his basement. It was in the backyard, right off to the side. He had already propped it open in anticipation of getting the ferals into the house without waking Arion.

“Wa’ dis?” Asked the smarty, sniffing at the hole.

“That’s the entrance to your new home silly!”

The other fluffies crowded around the window, trying to see inside their new home. Matt quickly gave them a slight bump with his foot, sending all but the two mares and Navy tumbling into the basement.

Fortunately for the fluffies, he’d placed the pile of moving blankets right under the window, breaking their fall. Matt scooped up Pinkie and Charcoal in either arm and gently carried them toward the house.

“Huu huu! Meanie hooman gib speshuw-fwiend fowevah-sleepies! Huu!” Pinkie cried, flailing her legs. Charcoal hung limp in his arm.

“No no, don’t worry Pinkie! Your special-friend is still okay! They’re waiting for you in the house!”

“Huu… w-weawwy?” Pinkie said, her tears drying.

“Really. I’m going to take you to them now.” Matt said.

“Wiaw...” Charcoal said quietly.

Matt stopped, gently placed Pinkie down, and held Charcoal up to his eye level. She looked away, not wanting to meat his gaze.

“What did you say, Charcoal?” Matt asked calmly.

“Chawcoaw caww yu WIAW!” the mare screamed, now wiggling. “Yu gib dummeh speshuw-fwiend and bestest daddeh smawty foevah-sleepies! Nao yu twy to gib soon-mummah fowebah-sleepies!”

“Charcoal! I’m hurt!” Matt said, feigning an injured tone.

“Nu cawe! Wet fwuffy go!” Charcoal said, flailing her legs again.

“Here! I’ll show you!” Matt said, bringing the struggling mare to the window.

“SCREEEEEEEEEE!” Charcoal screamed, thrashing harder. She obviously thought he would drop her in the window too, killing her.

“Charcoal! I’m not going to drop you!” The mare didn’t stop, clearly not listening to anything Matt said. “All that thrashing can’t be good for your babies...”

Charcoal froze. Her eyes were wide in panic as she felt her tummy.

“Gud babbehs, mummah wuv yu…” She muttered, obviously making sure her babies were okay. From the expression of relief, they were. Still, she didn’t thrash again, settling on giving Matt the dirtiest look a miniature cartoon-esque horse could.

“Now, I’m going to put your head through the window just so you can see your herd, okay?”

“O-otay…” Charcoal said hesitantly.

Matt did as promised, and poked her head through the window. The other fluffies were gladly chowing down on the raw oatmeal that Matt had used instead of kibble, drinking from the shallow dish of water, and playing with the meager toys he’d thrown in the pen – remnants of when his sister’s kids had been much younger.

“Hewwo Chawcoaw!” The smarty said, waiving a little hoof at the mare. “Bestest smawty find gud nummies fow hewd! Dis woom nu pwetty, but hab soft nestie!”

“Smawty!” Charcoal cried out. “Yu nu go fowevah-sweepies!”

“Siwwy mawe! Smawty tu smawt to go fowevah-sweepies!” Firework huffed and went back to his oats.

“See? Your friends are all okay. Will you come down now?” Matt asked. He didn’t really care if she said no, he’d take her down anyway, but stress was bad for the foals he was sure and he needed those alive.

“Chawcoaw wiww go.” The mare said after a while. “Chawcoaw sowwy fo’ caww daddeh wiaw.”

Matt was almost moved by the apology. “That’s okay hon,” he said, scratching her behind the ears. “all is forgiven.”

Matt picked Pinkie back up and brought the two mares to the basement. He hurried, hoping the noise hadn’t woken Arion up. The basement was still fairly drab, but the lights were on and the fluffies had food and some toys. They seemed content, especially since no harm had befallen any of them. Yet.

“Okay fluffies! Time to listen up!” Matt said, addressing the herd. “There are a few rules if you’re going to be staying in my house, okay?”

The mares and most of the stallions nodded, which pleased Matt. The smarty, however, had other ideas.

“Nu!” Firework shouted. “Smawty Fiuh-wowk nu wisten tu wuwes! Dis am smawty hewd an’ smawty make wuwes!”

“If you don’t listen to my rules, then you can’t stay here, and you won’t have any nummies or warm blankies or toysies. Is that what you want for your soon-mommas?”

The question caught Firework off guard; he hadn’t connected that Matt could take things away once they were given.

“If you’re all good fluffies and you listen to my rules, we’ll all have a great time and all your babies will get to play and grow up big and strong! But if you break the rules, you get punished.”

The fluffies recoiled at that, especially Tangerine who’d experienced punishment at the hands of his old daddy. Matt fully intended to capitalize on that.

“Wat am wuwles daddeh?” Tangerine said, pushing past Firework. This clearly annoyed the smarty, but it seemed like the toughies were starting to imprint on him as their new provider.

“First; all poopies and pee-pees go in the litter box. Tangerine, have you had a litter box before?”

“Yus, daddeh.”

“Good, then I’m going to need you to help everyone use it, okay?”

“Yus, daddeh.”

Matt smiled. Tangerine was well-behaved and polite. Maybe he’d keep him.

“Next, all babies are good babies. When the soon-mommas have their babies, if there are any poopie-babies, or monster-babies, you do NOT hurt them, okay?”

“Bu-- buh poopie-babbeh and munstah-babbeh am nu gud babbeh! Nu fo’ huggies an wuv!” Pinkie protested.

“Firework, I’m going to need you to protect all the babies, okay? They’re also part of your herd and deserve love and milk.”

Firework puffed his chest at being given an important task.

“Yus, nyu daddeh! Fiuh-wowk do bestest job of keep sabe all babbehs!” He looked pointedly at Pinkie “Eben poopie an’ munstah babbehs.”

“Pinkie,” Matt said gently, “I won’t let anything bad happen to any of your babies, okay? That’s why I want to save them all, even the ones you don’t like, okay? Even if a baby ‘nu smeww pwetty’ I want you to take care of it until I come to see it. If it’s really a bad baby, I’ll take it away. Does that sound fair?”

Pinkie nodded. “Nu wan bad babbeh… wan gud babbeh fo’ gud mummah...”

Matt gently patted her head. “You will be a good mommy, and you’re gonna have great babies. You’re the best keeper of babies, okay Firework, it’s your job to protect all babies and make sure they’re all taken care of; we don’t have any ‘bestest’ babies here, all babies are equal.”

The smarty nodded slowly. He seemed to understand, at least Matt hoped he did. These parents would survive for a while, he wanted their foals more than them anyway. It was important to Matt that he got as many foals as he could from these ferals. He didn’t want to hurt or maim them until their babies were born.

Matt waited a bit for the fluffies to get settled, which they did surprisingly fast, before leaving the basement and heading back upstairs. He was extra sure to close and lock the basement door behind him. There were two; one at the bottom and one at the top of the stairs. He hoped it would help mask the fluffy smell from Arion.

Back in the house, Arion had already woken up. He had heard some scary screaming, a sound he was quite familiar with from his time in the alley. He buried himself into his nestie, hoping to drown out the scary noises. Then, a very familiar smell hit his nosie; fluffies!

He sniffed again, making sure his noise wasn’t playing tricks on him. Arion was sure of it: he smelled fluffies. Not clean fluffies like the kinds that lived with humans, but the dirty smell of feral fluffies.

Arion thrashed a bit in his bed, toppling out of it and running into his little cove. Feral fluffies were always the biggest meanies, and give Arion the worstest hurties. He’d been kicked and rammed, and forced to num poopies. He trembled in his cove and began to cry to himself, hoping the meanie fluffies couldn’t find him.

“Arion?” Matt called, entering the safe-room with a bowl of steamed veggies. “Arion are you okay!?”

Arion looked out from the plush cove and ran out, still crying, to hug Matt’s legs.

“Daddeh! Daddeh! Awion smeww owtside fwuffies! Nu wet meanie owtside fwuffies huwt Awion!” The little fluffy trembled and shook like a leaf, peeping a bit in fear.

“Oh Arion...” Matt put the food bowl down and lifted Arion up, cuddling him gently and stroking his ears. “Arion I won’t let any fluffies from outside get to you, you don’t need to worry about that okay? As long as you’re here, no one will hurt you and if anyone tries I’ll make sure they can never hurt anyone again.”

Arion curled up in Matt’s arms, his peeps and sobs quieting in the warmth of Matt’s embrace. “Fank ‘ou daddeh… Awion wuv yu...”

Matt smiled at the alicorn. The damn thing had really grown on him. “I love you do, Arion.”

Matt grabbed the bowl of vegetables off the floor and carried the alicorn and the bowl to the couch. “How about we both watch some TV together, okay?”

“Otay daddeh,” Arion said, smiling. He was still shaken but the thought of cuddling with his daddy seemed to have cheered him up.

Matt put on some cartoons, the old Loony Tunes ones that he genuinely enjoyed. They were good for Arion too, since a lot of them had minimal conversation, especially Coyote and Roadrunner. Arion greatly enjoyed the slapstick comedy, which relieved Matt as he’d worried the cartoon violence would have scared the fluffy. Arion seemed to understand that it wasn’t real, and knew they always survived their injuries.

The intelligence of the foal, especially when compared to the other fluffies that Matt knew, continually surprised Matt. It was actually really cool to be able to communicate with his pet, even if it was in baby talk. And Matt had to admit, running his hands through that incredibly soft fluff was very soothing.

It actually made Matt very angry when he thought about those two stallions that had hurt Arion. He had briefly seen them when he chased them off; a purple and yellow earthie stallion and a red and green pegasus stallion. Horrible little monsters. Thinking about them again made his blood boil, and Arion must have noticed.

“Daddeh feww awight?” Arion lifted his head, sleepily gazing at you. His tummy was warm and full of the vegetables that had made up his dinner.

“Yeah, sorry buddy. You tired?” Matt asked, smiling at the fluffy who could barely keep his eyes open.

Arion yawned and nodded. “Yesh daddeh, Awion take nappy.”

“Okay buddy. I’m going to carry you to bed alright, I’ve gotta run some errands outside okay? I’ll be back when you wake up.”

“Otay daddeh. Awion be gud fwuffy an nu weave safe-woom.” Arion said in a yawn as Matt carried him to the plush fluffy bed and tucked him in.

“Good boy, I’ll be back soon.” Matt said, closing the safe door behind him.

* * *

It was cold outside, and the first flurries of snow were already beginning to fall. Matt tugged his scarf tighter around his neck to keep the chill away. He could already see his breath.

The alley was exactly as Matt remembered, including the filthy box he’d found Arion in. It was still filled with shit-stained newspaper and a small pile of dead grass – what Matt assumed was the food Arion had tried to find himself.

The box was so sad compared to the lovely room that Arion had now, Matt was sad seeing where his fluffy use to live, languishing in the cold and filth. He was lucky that Arion had survived long enough to be rescued, and he was especially happy that he’d come along before the first snow. If Arion had been outside now, Matt would have only found a corpse.

Heading down the alley as quietly as he could, Matt finally heard what he’d been looking for;

“Dummeh mummah gib fwuffy poopie babbeh!”

Matt leaned his head around the corner discreetly and saw the source of the commotion. As luck would have it, it was one of the stallions that Matt remembered from tormenting Arion; the purple and yellow stallion. He’d cornered a skinny and shivering mare who was desperately hiding a small peeping baby whose eyes where still shut behind her.

“PWEASE! Pwease smawt stawwion nu take wastest babbeh… jus a widdwe chiwpy babbeh… pwease nu take...” The mother begged. She was sobbing.

“Stoopi mawe!” The stallion snorted. “Babbeh am dummeh babbeh, an yu am dummeh mawe! Poopie fwuffies am aw bad fwuffies. Yu gib babbeh fow be enfie babbeh ow fwuffy gib yu sowwy hoofsies!”

The mare and her foal were both brown. The mother was a really dark chocolate brown with a caramel colored mane. The baby had brown coloring but was too young to have its mane.

“NU! Nu pwease… mummah gib anyfing fo’ keep babbeh safe… mummah gib stawwion enfies? Be enfie poopie mawe for stawwion?”

The mother, trembling, lifted her ragged tail and turned so her rump was facing the stallion. He grinned horribly.

“Poopie mawe gib stwwion gud enfies… den stawwion mabeh wet mummah and poopie dummeh babbeh go...”

He mounted her. Matt turned away, not really wanting to watch the rape. He wanted to intervene, to stop this awful treatment, but a sick part of him wanted to watch; to see where this was going.

The stallion made his gently “enf, enf, enf” noise as he fucked the mare, all while Matt could hear her gently sobs. She whispered to her baby “Nu cwy babbeh… mummah sabe yu soon an’ gib wots of miwkies...”

Matt peered around the corner again. The foal was curled up in a ball and shivering, peeping gently for it’s mother. The stallion finished with a grotesque “Gud feews!” scream and harshly pushed the mare away.

“Huff- huff- poopie mawe gib stawwion gud feews!” The stallion proclaimed.

“M- mawe is su happy to gib stwwion gud feews! Nao… nao stawwion wet mummah an’ babbeh gu?”

The stallion smiled. Matt didn’t like that smile at all. “No. Stawwion nu wet mummah ow babbeh gu. Stawwion stiww nee’ enfie babbeh. Mummah can go fowevah-sweepies!”

“NU! NU! Mummah nu wan fowevah-sweepies! Babbeh wiw gu fowevah-sweepies wifou’ mumma!”

“Stawwion nu cawe! Babbeh be enfie babbeh nao!” He was creeping towards the mother and her foal. The mother was backing away, cuddling her baby to her chest and sobbing. She was not strong enough to stop the stallion, and she knew it.

“Hey!” Matt said, rounding the corner.

“Dummeh hooman!” The stallion said, immediately forgetting the mare and her foal and turning on Matt. “Weve stawwion awone! Nee’ gib mummah fowevah-sweepies!”

Matt had enough of this little asshole. He was practically seeing red. Without much of a thought, he lifted the stallion off the ground.

“Eeep! Bad upsies!” The stallion moaned.

“You little asshole! What makes you think you can just go around tormenting this poor mare?”

“Nu gud mawe! Dummeh poopie mawe and poopie babeh! Nu gud fo’ nuthin but enfies and sowwy-hoofsies!”

“What? Why?” Matt asked.

“Dummeh mummah am poopie cowow! Nu gud fwuffy!”

Matt was dumbstruck. He knew that fluffies had some weird racial prejudiced against brown or other less-brightly colored fluffies, but he never thought that it would lead a fluffy to rape and murder another fluffy.

Matt smiled. He couldn’t help it, the situation was ridiculous. He broke out in laughter.

The stallion didn’t like the human laughing. He’d been living in the wild for long enough to know that humans were dangerous. Some did actually help fluffies, giving them nummies or taking them home. But the stallion had also seen humans give some of his friends worstest hurties and forever-sleepies for fun. This human had the same smile and laugh that those humans had. It made him piss himself in fear.

“D-dummah hooman wet fwuffy gu!” The stallion demanded, sounding significantly less brave than he had previously.

“Oh, sure thing. I’ll let you go.” Matt said coldly. “But first, let’s have some fun...”

He gripped the stallion’s back legs and held him upside down by them. The fluffy flailed desperately trying to break free from Matt’s grip. Matt pulled hard, tugging the legs in opposite directions until he heard a very satisfying ‘pop.’ The fluffies’ legs were dislocated.

Matt dropped the stallion onto the ground, belly down. His back legs were perfectly out, his inner thighs pressed to the cold ground. His front legs dragged desperately at the ground.

“SCREEE wowstest huwties! Weggies nu wowk! Weggies nu wowk!” The stallion sobbed, his back legs twitched trying to get some purchase. It wasn’t long before Matt could see that his front hooves were raw and bloodied from digging at the ground of the alley.

“That’s right you little fuck, your legs don’t work. And now I’m going to take your front legs too.” Matt said. His voice was cold and even. His heart was racing in his chest. The fluffly lay totally prone on the ground, sobbing. Matt reached down and lifted the fluffy by the front left leg, hoisting him up.

“Huu huu… why huwt gud fwuffy?” The stallion cried.

“Good fluffy!?” Matt was incredulous. “You’re not a good fluffy! You’re a horrible fluffy! You raped a mother and tried to kill a baby! What’s WRONG with you!?” Matt asked, screaming into the face of the upside down fluffy.

He twisted the stallion’s front leg as hard as he could, not stopping until he felt and heard a horrible crack, signaling that the bones in the upper leg had been broken.

The stallion screamed in agony as Matt kept twisting. The skin wasn’t breaking at all, fluffies were apparently more durable than abusers led on, but the leg was now twisting unnaturally around the break. Matt felt a shiver a pure satisfaction roll up his spine. It was primal, cruel, and delicious.

The stallion’s eyes were darting around wildly as he foamed at the mouth from the pain. Matt grabbed his chest, and firmly gripped the leg, wrenching it as hard as he could.

The skin tore and the leg came away. The fresh white snow was stained red from the fluffies blood. Matt threw the fluffy back on the ground and stomped hard on its back legs. The crack that he felt under his heel sent a shiver up his spine.

Quickly, Matt stomped on the other leg, ensuring that the stallion only had three working legs. The two dislocated legs were practically jelly. Matt roughly prodded and the splintered bones in each, eliciting pained screams and peeps from the stallion.

“Oh no, does that hurt? Is the little stallion going to cry?” Matt teased. He kept poking and prodding the broken legs. “If you want me to stop hurting you, just say so.” Matt said.

The stallion took a breath, hoping to beg for the owwies to stop when the worstet owwies crashed through his body. His leggies were on fire and he looked at his two dummy back legs and saw that the meanie human was stepping on them again! His leggies hurt so much and he was breathing raggedly now. Black spots danced in his vision and he could barely think straight.

Matt laughed, the stallion was thrashing now, in pure agony. “Well I guess you don’t want the hurties to stop! Let’s make them worse, shall we?”

Reaching behind the stallion, Matt grabbed his testicles firmly in one had.

“NU!” The stallion shouted firmly, having found his voice. “Nu tuch speciaw wumps! Nu wan!”

“Well seeing as how you’re a mare now, I guess you don’t need… THESE” Matt said, and on his final word crushed the right testicle firmly between his thump and pointer finger. The small organ popped like a grape and, had Matt not been wrapped up in blood-lust endued euphoria, he may have felt some empathy.

The stallion, however, did feel. And then he screamed. The high pitched scream rocketed off the alley walls and the brown fluffy covered her ears from the sheer noise of it. The stallion made a strange noise and then immediately vomited all over his chest and the ground in front of him, huuing at the feel and the taste.

Matt kept mashing the jelly that had once been a testicle in the ballsack of the fluffy, laughing maniacally as he hear gurgling sobs from the stallion.

“Don’t worry buddy, there’s only one more lump to go!” Matt said, grabbing the other ball.

The stallion tensed, knowing that the pain had come from one of his special lumps, and now the human was holding the other one! He still felt a lot of owwies in his special lumps, and it made his tummy have the worstest owwies even after he made sickie-wawas all over himself. The taste was really bad! And so was the smell! But the human’s not-hoofies on his specials lumps was way worse.

“Pwease hooman nu gib anymoa speciaw-wump owwies!” The stallion begged.

Matt didn’t care, and decided to slowly squeeze the remaining ball. The pressure was increasing, and the stallion screamed and flailed his remaining good leg as the pain increased as well. His stomach rolled as his testicle was assaulted. The ball slowly deformed, its firmness slowly giving away as the organ squished around Matt’s fingers until it gave way, popping just like the last one.

The stallion vomited again, though it was mostly water and bile this time, and sobbed again. “Nu wan nu wan nu wan...” He repeated over and over again.

Matt was greatly enjoying this though, he had witnessed the vile behavior of the fluffy and had gotten to not only finally explore his desire to hurt the little animals, but also to safe a mare and her foal. Matt was euphoric, and he tried to convince himself that most of it came from saving an innocent.

“Okay fluffy, time to make you a mare.” Matt said, wickedly grinning.

“NU! Nu am mawe! Am stawwion! Pwease!”

Matt rummaged in the dumpster near him until he finally found what he was looking for – a beer bottle. He lifted the green glass bottle from the bin and pressed it firmly against the stallion’s asshole.

“NU! Nu poopie-pwace owwies! Pwease nice hooman! Nu gib fwuffy any mowe owwies!”

“It’s a little late for repentance, bud.” Matt said grimly, and shoved the lid end of the bottle deep inside the fluffy. The stallion screamed, almost louder than he had when his balls were trashed, but Matt kept pushing the bottle in until he couldn’t anymore.

It was too far, evidently, as the bottle immediately started filling with a steady stream of blood. The stallion would bleed out in a few hours, Matt knew, but he was fine with that. He lifted the broken, sobbing stallion up and dropped him unceremoniously into the dumpster.

“Wan die… wan die… wan die… “ The stallion murmured. He shivered in the cold and tears flowed from his eyes. His voice was hoarse from all the screaming.

“Fuck...” Matt said, finally coming down from his blood-lust high. “That was… good. Jesus that’s fucking bad...”

Before Matt even had time to contemplate the strange moral turn his life had taken, he heard the mare.

“Huu huu pwease nice hooman… pwease nu huwt gud babbeh… is jus a widdwe babbeh…” The mare was holding her crying chirpie baby in her hooves, trying to keep the crying thing warm. “Huwt mummah… huwt mummah nu huwt gud babbeh...”

“Woah woah girl, I’m not going to hurt you or your baby.” Matt said, crouching down to her level.

The mare was filthy, way worse than Arion had been. Her fur was badly matted and disgustingly greasy. There was shit and piss caked onto her rear as well as the top of her fluff, probably where her baby slept. There was grime and discharge in her eyes and nose, and the pads of her hooves was raw and cracked.

The wind picked up and the snow fell harder. If they were left out here, neither the mother or the baby would survive past the night. Matt sighed heavily, he didn’t really have the means to take care of a mother and a foal, especially because he wasn’t really sure how they would react to Arion, him being an alicorn and all.

“Nu… nu huwt babbeh an’ mummah?” The fluffy asked.

“No. What’s your name girl?” Matt asked gently, trying to calm the fluffy after it had just watch him horribly maim another of its kind.

“Fwuffy nu habe name. Fwuffy am jus fwuffy.” She responded.

It was weird; fluffies often named their own children but seemed unable to name themselves. Perhaps it was a way to make them friendlier for children, to ensure the child could always name their pet, or maybe it was just that names weren’t as important to fluffies.

“Does your baby have a name?” Matt asked.

“N-nu… babbeh awso jus babbeh. Mummah gib name when babbeh am big.” She explained, afraid that the human was so interested in her child. She’d seen humans take foals from mothers before, either offered up by mothers who couldn’t provide for their young anymore or stolen from their parent’s hooves by either abusers or people who wanted to raise a foal but not pay adoption fees. She was terrified of losing her only baby – her last baby.

“Okay… uh, listen. Why don’t you come home with me? I… I have a fluffy at home and he’s really friendly and would love you and your baby.”

The brown mare’s eyes sparkled. “Mistuh wan gib fwuffy an’ babbeh housie?”

“Uh yeah, a new housie. Does that sound good? Would you like that?” Matt asked.

The mother surprised him by crying. She just sat on her haunches, careful not to knock her baby off, and started to sob hysterically.

“Woah! Are you okay?” Matt asked.

The mare lifted her head and smiled. “Yus. Sowwy… fwuffy am jus happeh. Mistuh be nice to fwuffy.”

“You haven’t experienced much kindness, huh?” Matt asked.

“Nu.” The mare said sadly, “fwuffies am be mean tu mummah an’ babbeh. Onwy fo’ be bwown fwuffy. Wat am wong wif bwown? Pewtty cowow of twees an’ gwownd. Bu’ othah fwuffies caww mummah an’ babbeh poopie fwuffy. Am nu faiw.”

Matt sighed. All the fluffies he actually cared about turned out to be horribly traumatized. “You’re right girl, it’s not fair. Listen, before I take you home, I just need to ask you something; the fluffy I own – Arion – he’s an alicorn. Do you know what that means?”

“Fwuffy nu know. Wat mean?”

“It means he has a horn and wings. He’s what other fluffies call a ‘monster.’ If you come live with me, you have to be nice to him too, okay?”

“Munstah fwuffies am nu munstah. Onwy widdwe babbeh dat meanie mummah and daddeh fwuffies gib fowevah-sweepies tu. Fwuffy knu wat awicown am. If fwuffy am nice, fwuffy am nu munstah.”

It was sound logic, Matt thought, and he was convinced that the mare would do Arion no harm. And besides, if she did, he could always kill her.

“Alright then! There’s just one last thing to do! Fluffies who live with me need names!”

The mare’s eyes lit up. “Nice mistuh gib fwuffy… name?”

“Yes! And if you want, I can name your baby too? Or you can do that later.” Matt said.

The mare thought for a moment. “Fwuffy wan gib name to babbeh when babbeh weady fo’ name. Dat… otay mistuh?”

“That’s fine.” Matt said, smiling. The mare really did care for her kid. “Okay, time for your name!” Matt looked at the hopeful mare. He wanted to name her something pretty, so she’d be happy with it. A name that signified she was proud of her coloring and not ashamed like other fluffies wanted her to be.

“How about… Chestnut?”

“C…ches’nut? Ches’nut wuv name! Su pwetty! Fank yu nice mistuh! Fank yu…” Chestnut started crying again, but Matt could tell these were tears of joy. She hugged her baby closely, careful not to wake his gently breathing form. “Babbeh,” she said softly, “mummah hab pwetty name, and babbeh hab nyu housie… babbeh nu wowwy nu maow, gun hab gud bwight-tiems nao… babbeh gun be happeh…”

The sight was adorable. The mare loved her child so much, enough that she took physical and sexual abuse to try to protect it. She was a good mom, and Matt was happy to be able to help her.

He lifted the mare up so her back was in his arms and her tummy was upright, her foal sleeping peacefully on her stomach. As they left the alleyway Matt could still hear the sobs of the broken stallion.

It filled him with glee.

* * *
Uploader Draytini,
Tags abuse artist:draytini feral making_a_monster poopie-colors poopie_babbeh rape rescue wan_die
Locked No
Parent 55386
Rating Explicit


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The_Neutralist: Yeah, Matt had a lightness in his head from all the blood rushing to his murderboner
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Anonymous1: Wonder if Matt will keep chestnut's new litter or just get a fluffy morning after pill
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Anonymous2: I like where this is going and I can't wait to see what happens next, also this story reminds of a similar story that had a fluffy named sweetie in it but I can't remember the name of it sorry!
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NottooFluf2: Anon2,you mean Hugboxing_Faggot's "Download
Stories from the Life of a reasonable Hugboxer, or How I learned to stop worrying and hate bad
Fluffies" story? He and Barbarossa are my favorite autors but it seems they are fighting with the feared "autor's block?" (I don't know if that is how is write)
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Draytini: I actually also love "Life of a Reasonable Hugboxer," that story did inspire me a lot. I'm a little more abuse happy than H_F but their stuff is really good.

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WorstestWandie: Minor nitpick as i read this story after i found it, the sorry stick is a form of positive reinforcement as it introduces a new stimulus, the sorry box is a form of negative reinforcement as it removes stimulus, but most people use negative reinforcement as a catch all for any sort of punishment and positive reinforcement for any sort of reward