Bit & Smidget: Of Fluffs and Men

Bit & Smidget: Of Fluffs and Men Anonymous 04/04/12(Wed)18:31 No.1041206

>you are now Bit, trying to be quiet
>frankly, you feel way too cool as you sneak out your little pony door, and into the yard
>you've been pulling on a plank at the back fence for about a week, and it finally gave this morning
>despite your intellect, you still aren't used to being out by yourself, and you feel fear in your little heart
>still... you are willing to face terror to end that mistake Hurples
>while Smidget refused to tell you about the toxic berries, you think that you might as well grab any green berries you see, recalling that detail at least
>so there you are, dragging a piece of tupperware by a piece of string
>by the time you've filled the container, you're far enough from home that you start feeling that deep, primal fear that you don't know exactly where you are
>luckily, you've been reading the street signs so you should be able to find your way back
>however, during the return trip, you happen across a rather greasy looking man who seems delighted to see a fluffy pony
>out all alone
>at night
>without a word he grabs you by your fluff, and you struggle to keep a hold onto the string
>pulls it from your mouth and you're stuffed into a shit-smelling sack with a cock-eyed pegasus
>"new fwiend?"
>damn it
>by the time you're let out into a pen with five others, you're more than a little upset
>you choke back tears, because you guess by the familiar smell of blood and feces what's probably going to happen
>the grinning bastard reaches down, and grabs a shivering pegasus that was trying to hug you
>neither of them will stop giggling, but the other starts shrieking when the human starts ripping out tufts of fluff
>...and turns on a mechanized cheese grater

>hooves first, the pegasus is squealing about how "weggies huht" as they are scraped to ragged stumps, blood flowing freely onto the wooden bench
>the other fluffies are crying and shitting themselves, but you stand where you are
>he doesn't let up on the pressure, and the pony's soft belly is stripped away, spilling its organs onto the floor
>he takes the shavings that's been collecting in a now gore slicked bucket upstairs, still giggling like a maniac
>this may be your only chance, "Fwuffies! Wan' pway a game?"
>they are still scared and sobbing, but you have their attention
>"Pioh up in dat cornuh!", gesturing with your hoof so they don't fuck it up
>the all bunch up, and you start climbing their fluffy bodies to freedom
>once out, you try to take stock of what you can work with
>frankly, you WISH your master had this many power tools, chemicals, and miscellaneous sharp things in his garage
>of course, you also wish you weren't in some sadist's basement
>for your plan, though, the jug of water in the corner and tazer shall be the first steps
>after you've unscrewed the top and spilled it onto the concrete, you wait for the man to descend the stairs
I got some very special spaghetti for you little guys!
>the fluffies start freaking out at the promise of delicious pasta
>even your mouth starts to water, but it's fucking obvious his going to feed them their friend
>when he steps onto the puddle, you telekinetically press the trigger
>he flops like a fish, the electrical discharge making him dump the scalding noodles all over his head
>his screaming from the burns makes you feel... good
>you tip over the can of lighter fluid, jumping on it to make it squirt farther before climbing the steps

>it's slow going, but you're far enough up that you could spray sparks safely
>the man is smearing the sauce and strips of horse meat from his eyes
...the fuck...?
>"You know, I wike yo' wittew murderho', but dey's one pwobwem."
>he looks up at you, a little weirded out by a fluffy pony speaking complete sentences
W-what?
>"I'm not a wetawd wike dem!"
>you spray the sparks, lighting the fluid and you try to climb the stairs before the fire consumes you too
>of course, this plan was very impromptu... there is no doggy door to be spoken of
>you can't open doors because you're so small
>...and you've set a fire in the house
>"Shit."
>you begin running around, looking for alternative exits
>the house is small and foul, with old pizza boxes stacked atop one another, empty cans, and a bunch of MLP toys from MacDonald's
>brow furrowed, you try to think of what to do
>fortunately, there is a phone on a table next to the couch
>with great difficulty, you dial in 911
Hello, what is the nature of you emergency?
>"Fiyah!" you practically shout into the mouth piece
...is this a fluffy pony?
>you sigh, and try to work this to your advantage
>"Daddy feww down, covaad in hot pwetties an' he's makin' scawey noises..."
Stay calm and don't try to hug him. We'll be sending a
>you wait, hoping that the firemen show up before the fire spreads too far