This is a tangental story attached to Brookshire Farms. If you’re unsure of who any of these characters are, I recommend reading the first two parts.
You had a garage full of fluffies again.
Not just any fluffies this time. No, these weren’t some random ferals you rounded up. These were some nasty fuckers. However much fun it was to break the spirit of a creature that had done nothing wrong, it was a special treat to get to punish sinners like these. It took skill to come up with the sort of abuse that they would understand they had brought on themselves. One could call it an art. You were active on various abuser forums and were looking forward to providing them with some well crafted content to break up the generic beatings and mutilations. Not that there was anything wrong with those, it was just comparing grape juice to fine wine.
You kicked open the door to the garage. Immediately the complaints and whines began. You had 6 adult fluffies in stacked wire cages. Three toughies all threatening to stomp various parts of you, their smarty who had his tail lifted and was waiting for you to come into sorry poopies range, and two mares. The first was screaming for her four foals, which were off to the side in a hamster cage, and the second was yelling that “soon mummah need sketties”. It was music to your ears.
You had convinced Sam to let you interview Lilac and Clover, promising they wouldn’t be traumatized over it. It took some convincing, but eventually he left you alone with them in his kitchen long enough to talk. You had taken polaroid pictures of each of the condemned fluffies and set them down one by one.
“Let’s start with this orange toughie.” You slid his picture over to the pair. He was mid yell, hoof raised for a stomp, green mane tangled in the wire cage. “What can you tell me about him?”
“Pumkin.” Lilac answered softly. “Pumkin meanie. Nu wet Wiwac sweep with hewd.” She sniffled at the memory, Clovers eyes narrowed with anger.
“Thats so horrible sweetie, it must have felt awful.”
She nodded. Clover continued for her. “One cowd time, Pumkin nu let soon mummah sweep wif hewd cuz soon mummah nu wet Pumkin have speciaw huggies. Was bad fow tummeh babies, Pumkin nu cawe.” He paused looking away. “Soon mummah take fowevah sweepies in da dawk time.”
You pulled the picture back, making a note on the back of it. “That’s horrible. I’ll make sure he gets what he deserves for it.”
“Pumkin desewve huwties.” Clover agreed.
You slid the next picture forward. This was a purple mare with a green mane, another of the toughies. She was blowing a raspberry, cheeks puffed.
“Dat Bewwy.” Clover spat, hatred in his voice.
“Don’t like her much, do you?”
“Nu! Bewwy wazy! Bewwy dummeh! Bewwy nu hewp fwuffies when dey need it!” He stomped repeatedly on her photo until Lilac put her hoof on his shoulder. He took a deep breath and continued, calmer. “Cwovew bwuddah Cwoud get stuckies in meanie bush, and Bewwy just weave him dere. Nu tell hewd until dawk times when Cwovew mummah ask where bwuddah is.” He sniffled. “Bwuddah awive when Cwovew and mummah found him, but he get sickies. Went fowevah sweepies aftew.” He stared blankly at the photo.
You pulled it back, making another note. “I’m so sorry buddy. I’ll make her pay.” Clover just nodded.
“This is another of the toughies.” You set down a picture of a grey stallion with a blue mane. Lilac yelped, and shoved her face into Clover’s shoulder. “It’s okay sweetie, they can’t hurt you. They’re far away, on the sorry farm.”
“Dey… Nebah comin back?” She sniffled.
“Never. See the cage he’s in? It’s locked, he can’t get out.”
“O… Otay.” She took a big breath. Clover set a comforting wing on her side.
“Take your time honey.”
She steeled herself for a second longer. “Dat… Dat Stowm. Stowm gib… Bad speciaw huggies.” She was shaking at the memory. “Nu just to mawes. Fiwwies, cowts, stawions…” She hid her face again and sobbed.
“He bad bad fwuffy.” Clover continued for her. “Gib bad huggies to own babies. An…” He looked down at his crying mate. “An to Wiwac too.”
You made a note on the back of his picture. “Thankyou, I promise he will never be able to hurt anyone else. There’s only a few more.” You gave them a second to compose themselves before pulling out the next photo, the pregnant mare. She was very fat, pink with a red mane, and looked terrified.
“Dat mawe am Fwowew” Clover said, hugging Lilac close. “Fwowew eat aww nummies, say nummies aww fow tummeh babies but nu weave nummies fow oddah fwuffies. Nu even oddah soon mummahs. Smawty wet hew cuz she gonna hab smawty’s babies.”
“That’s so selfish!” The pair nodded in agreement as you wrote it on the back of the photo.
“Last one, who is this?” You showed them the last mare, a dirty off-white color with a deep blue mane.
Lilac reacted immediately. “Dummeh Wain! Hatchoo! Hatchoo!!” She spat, her mate holding her back as she tried to bite the photo. You pulled the photo back in shock. Lilac was a shy fluffy, but whatever this bitch did was bad enough to have her screaming incoherent abuse.
Clover wrapped himself around her, mumbling comforting words until her screams turned to sobs and then whimpers. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know she was that bad. You don’t have to tell me anything.” You apologized. Not only did upsetting such a gentle creature make even your hardened heart ache, Sam would kill you if you triggered his fluffies clear PTSD.
Finally Lilac spoke. “Wan Wain to get wowstest huwties.” She mumbled.
“I can promise you that. It would help me give her hurties if you could tell me what she did.”
The brown fluffy took a deep breath. “Wiwac hab tummeh babies fwom Stowm. Wiwac nu wuv bad speciaw huggies, but wub tummeh babies anyway. But Wain…” She glared at the photo, gritting her teeth. “Wain say tummeh babies nu fow poopeh fwuffies. Say hewd nu want poopeh babies. Wain gib stompies and stompies, get smawty to gib stompies tu, untiw…” Her voice caught in her throat. “…babies cum. Dey… Dey too widdwe…” She buried her face in Clovers fluff again, who rubbed her back with a hoof and made soothing noises.
You hated fluffies on the best of days. But these fuckers… Oh they had a world of hurt coming towards them. “Thats horrible, I’m so sorry honey.” You pulled the photo back, not bothering to make a note. You would remember. “I promise, none of them will ever hurt another fluffy again. Never ever.”
“Tankoo Mistah Dabe.” Lilac mumbled. Clover just pulled her in even tighter.
You had what you came here to get. Did you need a motive? No. These were awful creatures as is. But knowing what they were capable of made the punishment so much sweeter.
You returned home, and scanned each of the photos before uploading one to Abusenet, writing up a short description of the toughie you decided to start with.
Got some new toys from a friend of mine, he took in a feral herd and let me keep the assholes.
I think I’m going to start with this orange fellow here, according to my sources he thinks it’s funny to let fluffies freeze to death in the winter just because he doesn’t like them. He’s generally a dick, was one of the toughys.
Taking all suggestions for what his punishment should be!