Sailor (H8R)

An adolescent fluffy coughs and wheezes while trapped in small confines.

This dark, dank cabinet has been all he has known for many days now. A practical eternity, to his limited mind. The dark space, moldy air, and unclean litter box make for a heavy atmosphere. The stench of many haphazardly buried feces, and puddles of urine enclosed in pockmarked sand, is inhumane.

The fluffy’s labored effort to breathe takes precedent over the annoying tendency to complain uselessly about the myriad unfortunate circumstances that fluffies often find themselves in. Need for companionship, fear of the dark, and even basic needs like food and water, are put aside for want of crisp, fresh air.

Then, without warning,

The cabinet doors flew apart. The ensuing light flooding in all but seared the bio-toy’s eyes. With a shrill screaming cry, the fluffy buried his snout in his crossed forelegs. “Owies! Huu huu! See-pwace owies! Nu wike!” came the muffled protests, then the predictably pitiable sobs.

“Fwuffy sowwy fo’ wha’ fwuffy didsies, neba do 'gain! Pwomise! Fwuffy pwomise!” the colt pledged while simultaneously making a conscious effort to be as small as he possibly could be – tucking into himself to form a bound ball of matted fluff. A coil of filth and odor.

The one responsible for the imprisonment and purgatory stated simply in response, “Congratulations on your promotion, captain!”

“Huu huu?” the colt sobbed questioningly. Right then, an uncomfortably moist artifact was placed atop his head, right in between his floppy ears. The sensation caused the fluffy to tense and cry. “Nu wike! Nu wan!” he whimpered, but he did not dare unfurl from his protective shell.

Everything was too scary. In a way, it was better when the darkness had him. It was terrifying, but that terror was not this kind of terror!

A gloved hand grasped the fluffy with an uncaring hold by the scruff. He was plucked from the litter box and carried off. The fluffy did not kick out or squirm; rather, he did his utmost to remain a rigid, fetal ball that was separated from the frightful sights that he was being subjected to. Whether by his own rejection of stimulus, or horror causing him to slip into unconsciousness, the fluffy arrived elsewhere without knowing the means of his transportation, or the slightest inkling of time’s passage. As far as he was concerned, the transition was instantaneous, and made possible by the otherworldly abilities of the person that had beset him so.

At present, the fluffy found himself on the shore of the largest body of water he could imagine.

In reality, it was but an average lake. One that had a history of being a place where fluffies met grisly ends for the twisted entertainment of assorted observers.

“Captain! Your vessel!” the person called out to the dumbstruck creature.

The phrase had no meaning to the fluffy, who was trembling as he voided his bladder down one of his rear legs. Gloved hands hoisted him from the spot he was standing upon, where the depths of mind-breaking fear had him anchored, and then they placed him inside of a shoe box.

“Nu wan’ funny sowwy box, huu huu huu…” the fluffy commented after the deed was done.

The shoe box was contained in a thick cardboard frame that bore striking resemblance to the shape of a paper boat. The thing resting atop the fluffy’s head was a small sailor’s cap, white and round, and slightly drier than before. Though the vessel was currently beached upon the lakeside, it would not be so for much longer.

The perpetrator pushed on the stern of the boat with their sneaker. Its hull of stock scraped along the gritty sand in a raspy manner. The fluffy inside whimpered and sucked on a hoof with tears welling up in his eyes. What a terrible noise that was thought he, as he watched the monstrous waves roll onto the land.

In reality, the ripples that washed upon the waterline were ushered along by the most pleasant and gentle breeze.

The bow of the cardboard boat slipped into the water. The sound of sloshing prompted the fluffy to urinate again. He closed his eyes and sat on his haunches, only to realize he had lowered his bottom into a warm pile of his own frightful feces. And this box did not have any sand with which to bury them!

“Huu… poopies… peepees… wawa bad fo’ fwuffy…”

In a short span of time the boat floated out tens of yards from shore, and was on a course to follow the curve of the sandy beach. The person followed along at a leisurely pace with a pair of binoculars in their gloved hands.

On board, the fluffy was straight up not having a good time. He hated how the boat rolled from side to side and bobbed in the waves that slipped past front-long. No matter how still he tried to be, the boat continued to get jostled by the lake. To make matters even worse, the sparkling sun on the water’s surface made the fluffy’s eyes hurt! Not that he had any particular affinity for looking out over the lake, but when the panic overtook his senses, he panted and swiveled his head about as though salvation would emerge from somewhere in the open.

After a couple of minutes, hysteria settled in. “HEWP! HEWP FWUFFY! MEANIE PUD FWUFFY IN BAD BOATSIE! BOATSIE BAD FO’ FWUFFY! HEWP! HEEEWWWPPP!” shrieked the colt into the emptiness. The high pitched echoes just reached the ears of the observer, and they smiled.

The colt’s sobs were truncated by his panting. It wasn’t just the horror effecting him now – it was hot in this bare box! And he hadn’t eaten or drank anything in forever!

After a few more minutes, the colt’s mind broke from the torturous experience.

“WAN’ OUD! OUD! WET FWUFFY OUD! NU WAN’ NU MOA’! SCREEEEE! SCREEEEEEE!” the fluffy called out to the deaf, impassive wilderness. Still, he tried to remedy his plight.

He dared to shuffle over to the side of the cardboard boat facing the shore. His weight resting unevenly in the vessel resulted in it tipping precariously, but it remained above the waterline for the time being. From here, the fluffy screamed at his tormentor.

“NU KNO’ WHA’ DID WONG! WAI DU DIS TU FWUFFY!? FWUFFY AM FO’ WUB! AN’ HUGGIES! HUGGIES AN’ WUB! HUGGIES AN’ – HUUU HUUU HUUU!” the colt’s fear turned into utter dismay when the thought was born in his tiny mind, that he would have preferred to be locked in the cabinet again.

Fluffies weren’t supposed to live like this!

None of the happy pictures, and funny things on the TV screens, were anything like this!

The fluffy cried into the side off the boat. His heavy breaths heaved with each despairing ‘Huu huu’. However, as though in response to the tears wetting it, the cardboard grew noticeably damp to the colt. He yelp-cried and rolled away from the side of the shoe box, but it was too late. Lake water surged through from the cardboard’s pores.

The fluffy’s weight shifting righted the boat. Yet by then, that mattered little. In seconds, the cardboard vessel was flooded, and it soon began to sag and deform. The fluffy’s cries were piercing and hoarse.

In the next instant, his hooves lost contact with the floor of the disintegrating cardboard. That was when the mad flailing, pissing and shitting ensued.

“WAWA! BAD! FO’ – !” The colt was splashing helplessly. The waves washed over his head and left him sputtering. It took no time at all for the panicked flailing to exhaust the fluffy, who was in no condition at all to tread for any length of time, anyhow.

The limp, drowned body of the colt washed ashore.

The one responsible retrieved the fluffy-sized sailor cap.

Back at their base of operations, they opened a set of cabinet doors.

“Captain! Congratulations on your promotion…!”

27 Likes

Nice premise dude
Very entertaining

7 Likes

Thank you!

6 Likes

I chuckled picturing a fluffy in a jank Styrofoam panel and tape ‘life vest’ because of theme.

4 Likes

Way out of the budget

3 Likes

Oh yeah of course, not in this scenario.

Just rando visual in my head due to the theme.

2 Likes

Get Turbine on the case

3 Likes

St patricks day special, floating in green beer. xD

Customer: “This green beer smells like shit.”
Bartender: “We weren’t serving green beer today.”

2 Likes

That’s not beer, probably. Given fluffy mannerisms

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Had the same idea. ~chuckle~

Beat me slightly.

1 Like

Kinky bastard

Bend over

2 Likes

~prepares snack for after~

roundmeal

2 Likes

Anally ingesting this doesn’t count as a snack

2 Likes

image

What’d you think the ‘3rd’ mans portion was for?

1 Like

Uh oh

1 Like

Who called me ?

1 Like