The Making of a Monster

Slack, November 23, 2014; 20:39 / FB 27797
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The Making of a Monster

*To Mayclore*

I'm bored. I need a new hobby.

Now, it's not exactly a controversial opinion to consider fluffy ponies vermin. I'm about as interested in their daily lives as those of the rats scampering around in the sewers below me. Their origins are fairly intriguing though, what with all genetic engineering to produce the cutest pet that money could buy. Supposedly they are inherently loving of just about all other living creatures that treats them somewhat decently. Sure, I've seen plenty of fluffies acting like complete assholes in the park, but are they not driven by desperation?

I need a new hobby. Abusing fluffy ponies is just about as popular that it could be the next contender for the olympics, but that seems pretty boring to me. No, I'm interested in their psyche. I want to test something that will take a lot of time, but that's what hobbies are for.

I want to know if, given the assumption that fluffies are inherently loving, can one be made into a murderous monster?

***

I just entered the door of the shop, but I've already forgotten the name of it. Doesn't really matter though, the insides are what's important. In the middle of the main room is a large, communal playpen. Clean litterboxes and no visible "accidents" outside of them.

I see three mares inside with foals. One of the young ones is significantly larger than the others, the last of its litter, perhaps?

"Can I help you, sir?", a clerk interrupts my thoughts.
"Uhm, no thanks... just browsing for now." I respond, and ever service-minded the clerk shies away.

Where was I? Oh yes, a foal larger than the others. A brown-coloured earthie, playing along with some of the other foals, even though they can't keep up with its pace when running. The earthie seems cordial though, and stops to wait for its playmates, dishing out hugs generously like some sort of big brother or sister.

Now most of the foals start to head for specific mares, and I assume that it is feeding time. The brown earthie is denied suckling though, and the mare smiles, says something and points to a food bowl. The earthie accepts whatever the mare posited and walks over, munching down on some sort of solid food.

The earthie seems ideal: Freshly weaned, well-mannered, generous and fair. The ideal loving pet.

"Excuse me, what could you tell me about the brown one over there?", I inquire.
"That's 'Chocolate', the last of his litter. Earthie colt, the mare next to him is his mother. His father was a blue and green pegasus. Well-mannered, has had an ideal physiological growth so he'll probably be very robust. An ideal first fluffy, if I say so."
"How much?"
"Since business has been a little slow this week I'll let him go for 80$ if you'll take him home with you here and now."

I wince slightly at the price.

"That's a fairly hefty sum."
"A fair reaction, but when you buy a fluffy from us you get a first-rate pet: We make sure that they're well behaved, that they have all shots they need..."

I zone out from the marketing speech. I have no real reason to not believe him, I just can't listen to sentences like that for longer than a minute before losing focus. The place seems reputable, and the fluffy is most likely nice: This place probably wouldn't be able to make ends meet if they sold brats.

"...a return policy more generous than any other-"
"Ok, you've convinced me: I'll take him."

***

"Chokwit, come tu mummah."

Mummah is sitting next to the edge of the pen. She was just talking to the nice mistah who makes sure that babbehs get hoomin mummahs and daddehs. Does this mean...

"Huu... babbeh haf new daddeh?"
"Yes Chokwit, nice mistah is new daddeh... Huu... Mummah wuv Chokwit vewwy much, gif huggies... huu..."

You hug mummah the bestest you can. You're happy about a new daddeh to love and hug, but leaving mummah is so, so sad.

"Huu... Chokwit wuv mummah, mummah is bestest mummah... Huuhuu... Chokwit wiww miss mummah..."
"Huuhuu... Mummah wuv Chokwit su much, mummah wiww awways wuv Chokwit..."

The nice mistah's hand gently picks you up.

"MUMMAH!"

Mummah waves at you.

"Be gud fwuffy fow new daddeh, Chokwit. Mummah wuv Chokwit..."

You both cry as the nice mistah puts you in a going-away box.

***

Home again. The clerk managed to gouge me for a carrier as well, but I could almost hear him thinking "FUCK" when I declined all the toy and food extras. I have all I need for the fluffy here, a huge bag of nutritious kibble in the closet, and the spare room has been set up with a litterbox and a couple of old rags in a corner. He's not here to play, after all. At least not for a long, long while.

I place the carrier in the safe room and leave to don some other footwear.

"Daddeh? *sniff* Can Chokwit out, pwease? Chokwit nu wike boxie..."

Oh, you'll get yours soon enough.

I put on a pair of thick slippers, partly for comfort but mostly for padding. I don't want the fluffy to take too much damage too soon. Returning to the safe room I close the door and open the front of the carrier. The fluffy runs and tries to hug my leg, but I take a couple of steps backwards just as he lurches himself upwards to grab me. He falls forwards in hilarious fashion with a "pomf" against the floor.

"Oof."

He takes it pretty well, composes himself and sits up on his haunches, raising his front hooves against me.

"Chokwit out, can haf huggies pwease? Chokwit wuv daddeh!"

I kick him. Not hard, just with the amount of force I would use in a normal step. The slippers provide plenty of dampening, so he mostly just tumbles backwards a bit.

"OWWIES! Pwease nu kick Chokwit... huu... Chokwit do something bad?"

I walk up to him, giving him another step-kick.

"OWWIES! Pwease daddeh, Chokwit sowwy, pwease nu kick Chokwit again!"

I smile with amusement and hold. Very slowly he starts smiling back at me. He stands up and starts walking towards me, and I kick him again.

"NUUU-omf!"

Now I start chasing him.

This is strangely amusing, he can't get a pace up before my foot finds him again and sends him tumbling. He doesn't stop trying though, but his crying is making it hard for him to catch his breath.

"Huuu-*pomf*"

"OWWIES, HUUHUUHUUU, WHY HUWT CHOKWIT, PWEASE DADDEH, STOP!"

"Omf! WAAAAA, NU-HUU-HUU-HUU... NU HUWT, PWEASE... *snort*"

"WAAAA... STAWP!"

After five minutes or so of this kick-hunt he actually does something halfway clever: He runs into the still open carrier and hunkers down in the far corner, looking out at me and sobbing.

"Huuhuuu... Why daddeh am meanie? Chokwit bad fwuffy?"

I walk to the side of the carrier so he can't see me anymore, but I still hear his confused crying. I'm halfway tempted to reward his cleverness, belated as it was, but he's not here to be clever. He's here to be molded.

I kick the carrier with full force, sending it flying into the far wall with a loud crash.

"EEEEEH! WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! CHOKWIT HAF OWWIES!"

Nice, he got sufficiently scared and hurt that he actually shat himself. I know, I know, they're supposed to be really prone to that, but I can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Might be a bitch to clean out though, but meh: Most of it seem to have stuck in the carrier.

After the flight Chocolate runs over to the corner with the rags and lowers himself against the floor, shivering. As I approach him he tries, in equally adorable and idiotic fashion, to hide himself behind his hooves.

"Huu... pwease daddeh... Chokwit sowwy... nu know why Chokwit am bad, but nu wan' be bad, nu wan owwies... huuhuu..."

Eh, maybe that's enough for today. He doesn't seems seriously hurt, so let's call it a wrap here. I turn to the carrier instead and pick it up, leaving the room and closing the door.

***

Owwies...

Your new home is supposed to be the bestest, why is daddeh such a meanie? Did you do something wrong?

***

I return later in the evening with a water bottle, a bowl of kibble, and a backpack filled with various tools. The fluffy is napping on the rags, so I slam the door to wake him up.

"WHAA! MUMMAH? WHEWE MUMMAH? WHEWE CHOKWIT-"

He sees me, and our session seems to come back to him, he cowers and hides. I ignore him and place the bowl and the water bottle in an unoccupied corner, after which I hang the backpack on a wall-mounted hook.

All the while, he cowers under his hooves.

"Fluffy."

"Huu... huu... pwease daddeh, nu huwt Chokwit..."
"There's food in the corner, go eat."
"Huu... nummies fo' Chokwit? Daddeh nu am meanie now?"
"Just go eat. You'll do what I tell you."
"Huu... Chokwit gud fwuffy, Chokwit eat nummies..."

He carefully follows the wall from his rag nest to the feeding station, throwing me wary glances. Once there, he sniffs the kibble a bit and turns his head as if to say something, but changes his mind, returns his head and starts to eat. While he is occupied with dinner I go to the open backpack and procure a small muzzle and a riding crop.

Finished with the meal he turns and faces me, visibly wincing when seeing the whip in my right hand.

"Huu... fank yu fo' nummies daddeh... pwease nu... huu... nu gif sowwy stick owwies to Chokwit..."
"If you listen up this will go a lot easier for you. Understand?"
"Huu... Chokwit do what daddeh say... Chokwit gud fwuffy... huu... pwease nu huwt..."
"First of all: Your name is no longer 'Chocolate', you don't get to have a name."
"Wha? Mummah gif Chokwit name, Chokwit wuv name, why nu-"

He is cut short by me advaning and flicking the riding crop against his head, hitting his left ear.

"EEEEH! EAW OWWIES! OWWIES!"
"SHUT UP OR I'LL DO THAT AGAIN!"

He heaves hard and slowly calms down.

"Now, I don't care if your mom gave you that stupid name, you no longer get to have it."
"Huu... nu is dummeh name, mummah bestest mummah, su name-"

Another whip.

"EEEEEEH! OWWIES! OWWIES! HUUHUUHUU, CHOKWIT NU HAF NAME, HUUHUU..."
"Now, what's your name?"
"Huu... Chok... Fwuffy... huu.. fwuffy nu haf name..."
"Good. It's getting late, so I suppose the rest of the rules can wait until tomorrow. Now, you're going to sleep, and to make sure you shut up you get to wear this."

I kneel down and fit the muzzle over his snout. It takes some fiddling and a lot of adjustment of the straps, but it fits snugly.

"Now you can't make any noise that would bother me."

He paws a little at the contraption, but cannot move it. He sits down on his haunches, makes a muffled sound and raises his front hooves towards me, tears dribbling out of his eyes.

"Right. Use the litterbox when you need to, and don't try to make any noises by banging the door or something, otherwise I'll do this."

Instead of giving him a hug I grab his tail and yank hip upwards so his front hooves only barely touch the floor. Afterwards I let the riding crop connect with his exposed anus.

"MMMMHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM"

I let him down, stand up and move for the door.

"Good night. Training continues tomorrow."

I flick the lightswitch and close the door, leaving him in darkness save for the faint streetlight shining in through a window. His whimpering increases.

***

Daddeh is scary.

How could he take away your name that your own mummah gave you? You want to cry and cry until you sleep, but you don't dare to close your eyes since it's so dark and scary. There's munstahs in the darkness, so you must stay awake.

What did you do for daddeh to give you such owwies and saddies?

***

Day 2.

I believe that the fluffy will need to be completely broken in order to be malleable. As such, he will today be acquainted with the harshness of his new reality.

I enter his room. Upon closing the door, he wakes with a start.

"Hmmph?"

He looks at me and sits up on his haunches, ears drooping and raising his legs towards me hoping for hugs. I drop to my knees and move my hands to his head. He tries hugging my right hand, but I swat away his hooves. He whimpers and lets them drop to his sides.

I undo his muzzle and stand up again. He speaks, but doesn't raise his head.

"Huu... fwuffy sowwy..."
"Sorry for what?"
"...fwuffy nu know, but fwuffy nu do it again..."

I don't answer him, but his meekness pleases me. This would probably go much less smoothly if he was stubborn. He looks up at me and raises his hooves again.

"Pwease gif huggies? Fwuffy wuv daddeh..."

I smile a little and he reciprocates, but I turn and walk to the backpack, fetching the crop again. Walking back to him his smile drops and he hunkers down on his stomach, "hiding" himself behind his forelegs.

"Huuhuu... pwease nu sowwy stick, fwuffy sowwy, fwuffy su sowwy, pwease nu huwt..."

I raise the crop and whip in an arcing motion, from well above my head straight down on his nose.

*WH-TISH*

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! NOSIE HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUWT!"

He cries uncontrollably for quite some time; The muzzle of fluffies must be really sensitive. I let him cry his little heart out, and when he's down to sobbing I continue to lay down the law.

"Here are the rules. First: You will always do as I say."
"Huuhuuhuu... fwuffy gud fwuffy, do wha' daddeh say... huuhuu..."
"Second: You will be beaten every day, because you are a very bad fluffy."
"*sob* Fwuffy sowwy..."
"Third... Well, I guess that's it really. Let's move on to the daily beating."
"NUUU, pwease nu huwt fwuffy, fwuffy gud, fwuffy sowwy, wha' huwt fwuffy?"
"Because you are ugly, smelly and dumb. You look like shit, the only reason you were in the store so long was that nobody liked you."
"WHAAAAAA, FWUFFY SOWWY, NU WAN BE BAD AN' UGWY, HUUHUUHUU..."

I give him another whip across the nose, sending him screaming and frantically running around the room. I chase him around at a leisurely pace; The room isn't very big. After some ten or twenty minutes of this I leave him screaming and sobbing in a corner of the room and start to plan for the future.

***

Fluffies are for huggies and love. Why does daddeh give you owwies every bright-time?

You can't understand. Maybe you're just a dummeh.

***

Day 7.

Today I'm introducing a new tool: A restraining board. Part of me was worried about me dallying so long with appropriating one of these, but he hasn't shown any suicidal or self-harm tendencies so far, so I guess my fears were unwarranted.

"Wake up, ugly."
"Huu... fwuffy am awake..."
"Come here, I want to show you the board."
"Huu... Wha' boawd?"
"It's something for keeping track of ugly dummies like yourself."
"Fwuffy sowwy, nu wan be dummeh..."

I lay the board down on the floor and motion him towards me. He approaches timidly and whimpers when I reach out and grab him by the scruff. Putting him down in the center of the board I firmly push him downwards so he lies flat on his stomach with legs out. I start securing his legs one by one.

"Wha' daddeh do? Nu wike, wan' move weggies."
"Stupid smelly fluffies don't get to use their legs. If I want you to lay down on the board, you lay on it."

He only whimpers in response. Being satisfied with the immobility of his legs I secure his neck as well. Not too tight, but enough for him not to be able to lift or rotate his head.

"Stay here, I'm going to get something for that ugly pelt of yours."
"Huu... pwease nu weave-"

He probably says something more, but I can't hear it. I walk to my hallway and unpack a trimmer bought specially for the occasion of making him a little less of a fluffy. I smile to myself and quickly walk back.

"*sob* Thank 'ou fo' back daddeh, pwease nu weave fwuffy with nu weggies."

I smile at him and drag the board a little closer to a wall socket. I plug in the trimmer and rotate the board so his left side is against me. The trimmer starts by a flick of my thumb and the fluffy reacts instantly.

"WHA DAT? A MUNSTAH? PWEASE DADDEH, WET FWUFFY GO, NU WIKE! NU WIKE!"
"Oh shut up, I'm just going to remove something that you don't deserve."

I start to shave of the fluff on his side amidst worried crying.

"EEEEEEH! HUUHUUHUU, NU WIKE!"

I've cleaned of most of the fluff on his side, leaving him with just short of a centimeter of fluff at the most.

"HUUHUU, MUNSTAH COWD, PWEASE DADDEH, FWUFFY NU WIKE COWD MUNSTAH!"

What the... Doesn't he know...?

"Fluffy, what do you think I'm doing?"
"PWEASE DADDY KEEP MUNSTAH AWAY, MUNSTAH MAKE FWUFFY COWD!"
"Oh for... You stupid little shit, it's not a monster, I'm cutting away your fluff."

To emphasize my point I grab a pinch of his shavings and toss in front of his head.

"Wha... NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU! PWEASE NU TAKE PWETTY FWUFF, NEE' FWUFF FO' WAMSIES!"
"It's not pretty, it's really, really ugly. And I'm taking whatever the hell I want away from such a stupid thing like yourself."
"NUUUUU! WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
"You really should quiet down, you noise isn't making me happy."

He completely disregards my request though, and continues wailing while I trim off the rest of his fluff. I cut of the tail too, accidentally knicking a bit of actual, non-hair tail appendage, eliciting a loud scream from him. Finishing up the barber session I arrange all of the shaved fluff in a neat-ish pile in front of the creature. The airy pile of faux-equine hair is almost as large as the shavee.

I fetch a trashcan and return to the fluffy and scoop the hair into it.

"Pwease daddeh, pwease gif pwetty fwuff back. Fwuffies nee' fwuff, nee' nice... *sob* pwetty fwuff... huuu..."
"You don't deserve it."
"WHAAAAAAAAAA!"

I walk away with the can and return to the fluffy, grabbing the crop.

"Now, I asked you nicely to keep quiet while I trimmed you, but you didn't listen. For that you'll take the beating on the board today, that also saves me the trouble of having to chase you.
"Nuuu.... Nuuu.... pwease nu huwt..."

I open up by whipping his undefended nose. Many, many times.

***

Daddeh took your pretty fluff.

Fluffies should have fluff. Fluff feels so nice when getting huggies. But daddeh said your fluff was ugly, and he has never hugged you. Maybe daddeh is right. Mummah said your fluff was really pretty though, even if other babbehs sometimes said it looked like poopies.

You miss mummah.

***

Day 18.

Today is turning out to be interesting.

"Nu! Fwuffy nu wan sowwy stick, nu wan be nu-fwuff fwuffy, nu wan!"

I haven't even started to administer his daily beating today, he started mouthing off the instant I stepped into his room.

"Oh? You're talking back to me, little shit?" I respond, smiling. I think it had the opposite of a calming effect.
"N-nu! Daddeh nu b-be meanie nu mowe, nu mowe owwies!" he says, even puffing his cheeks.

I've waited for this, dealing with defiance from him was the next step. Honestly, if it hadn't come in another week or so I might have dropped the entire project.

"Only bad fluffies don't do what their daddy tells them, you do know that right?"
"Nu cawe! Fwuffies awe for wuv and huggies! Nu wan mowe owwies!"
"If you're a bad fluffy... then daddy will have to take something else from you."

I take two quick steps forward and lunge for him. His face turns from angry to scared in under a second and he tries to run away, to no avail. I grab him over the back and take him to the restraining board, strapping him in. His defiance is all gone by now.

"Nu! Pwease nu, fwuffy sowwy, nu wike meanie owwies pwace! Pwease nu huwt!"
"It's well past sorry time."

I grab a knife from the backpack and sit down behind the fluffy. He whines, he knows nothing good comes from being strapped to the board where he's utterly defenseless.

"Huu.... pwease daddeh, fwuffy sowwy... huuhuuhuu... nu wan owwies, jus' wan wuv, huuhuu..."
"You tried telling me off today. You called me a 'meanie'. You're the bad one here, so you're going to be punished."

I unsheath the knife and grab it in my right hand. In my left fist I grab his left ear and tug it.

"Owwies! Pwease nu eaw huwties, huuhuuhuu, fwuffy sowwy!"
"Not as sorry as you're going to be."

I place the knife at the base of the ear and slice upwards along the head, cutting his left ear clean off.

"SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! EAW HUWTIES! OWWIES! OWWIES! OWWIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!"

I throw the ear in front of him.

"HUUUUUUUUUUUUHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU... PWEASE NU MOWE OWWIES, PWEASE GIF EAW BACK! FWUFFY WUV EAW!"

I move around him and grab the tip of his right ear with the fingers in my free hand. Afterwards I lean in, waiting to tell him something. He quiets down, but his breathing is very hard. For a good twenty seconds or so all I hear is his hard heaving.

"Now listen up."

He inhales sharply and holds his breath.

"Always do what daddy says."

I cut off his other ear in centimeter wide strips.

***

DADDEH TOOK YOUR EARS! IT HURT SO, SO MUCH!

Your pretty, pretty ears. They lie in front of you, but no matter how nice you ask them, they won't come back to you.

You're such a dummy fluffy. You try hard. You try so very, very hard. But you can't.

No matter how hard you try, you can't love daddeh.

***

Day 29.

Since chopping off his ears I've introduced a daily workout in addition to the daily beatings for the fluffy. The clerk's anticipation was right: He is growing large and strong... for a fluffy. Today I'm going to check just how strong he is.

I enter the fluffy's room and put another fluffy down on the floor: A stray from the streets, a mangy, smelly creature.

"Daddeh? Can Bwu pwease haf nummies now? Bwu vewy hungwy, can haf nummies? Pwease?"
"Just a moment, you have to earn your keep first. I'll let you know when you can eat."
"Otay, Bwu wuv daddeh, am gud fwuffy!"

By now my residential fluffy has peeked out from under the pile of rags he sleeps under. He does that all the time since I've trimmed off most of his fluff.

"...New fwiend?"

The stray responds in kind:

"New fwiend? Bwu wuv fwiends!"

He starts a trot towards my fluffy's nest, but I stop him in his tracks by stomping down on the end of his tail, causing a painful stop to his delighted dash.

"OWWIES! BWU HAF TAIW OWWIES!" he exclaims, before turning around and seeing my foot, after which he looks up at me and pleads:

"Huu... Pwease nu step on Bwu taiw, Bwu haf owwies! Wan pway with new fwiend... Daddeh pwease wet Bwu pway?"

I just smile at him, and instead look at the nest in the corner, containing my ever cowering fluffy.

"Fluffy! Get out of the nest!"
"Huu... fwuffy do as daddeh say..."

Blue stops shooting me his puppy eyes and instead looks at the emerging fluffy. He is visibly taken aback; My fluffy hardly looks like the cute and cuddly biotoy he was intended to be. Even to a stray of the streets his appearance is bordering on grotesque. Blue seems to be at a loss for words when I decide to open today's games.

"Fluffy: This fluffy-" I point downwards,
"-is not your new friend, you are going to hurt it in the worst possible way that you can."

"NUUU! Pwease nu gif Bwu owwies! Bwu sowwy!"
"Huu... nu wan gif owwies to fwiend..."
"Come on now, fluffy. Do this and I'll beat you less for a few days, doesn't that sound nice?"
"Fwuffy nu wike..."

"Fluffy! Look at me!"

My fluffy in training looks up at me with scared eyes. Were his ears still on him I bet they'd droop.

Very calmly, but with as a serious voice I can muster, I give the order:

"Always do what daddy says.", after which I step away from the stray and stand in the corner of the room.

My fluffy stares down his uneasy opponent for a while, and then utters the following:

"...fwuffy sowwy.", after which he charges.
"NUUU! Am gud fw-", the stray pleads before being tackled over by the larger equine.

What follows is somewhat amusing. My fluffy tackles, kicks, stomps and bites the other fluffy, which desperately pleads to both me and him for mercy. None is given, at least not at first.

"OWWIES! PWEASE NU HUWT BWU! PWEASE! BWU GUD FWUFFY!"

While my fluffy has plenty of strength over the stray, he's quite lacking in technique. He tries bucking at the other fluffy a few times, but he misses all of them. Soon he goes for something simpler, tackling Blue and then stomping on him. During one of my fluffy's descent of the hooves, aimed at the side of Blue, they seem to slip when connecting. Blue lets out a pained screech, indicating one or more broken ribs.

"SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

This is too much for my fluffy, who stops the assault, takes a few steps back, sits down on his haunches, and starts blubbering.

"HUUHUUUHUU... FWUFFY SOWWY, NU WAN HUWT FWIEND, NU WAN!"

Oh well, I would have liked for him to go further, but I guess this is good enough for now. I walk over to Blue and pick him up, still screaming. Walking to the door, I yell out a small compliment to my fluffy.

"YOU DID GOOD TODAY!"

After which I exit the room and bring the stray down to my basement.

***

You feel awful.

You didn't want to hurt your new friend, but you really didn't want owwies either.

You hope daddeh gives him hugs to fix his owwies. You hope that daddeh takes him to another housie with other friends. Friends who don't have to hurt him.

***

Blue lies helplessly on the concrete floor while I rummage through my toolbench.

"Huuhuuhuu... Bwu haf tewwibwe owwies, pwease hewp Bwu... huuhuu..."
"In a moment, I just need to find my... there it is!"

Grabbing the hammer from under an unfolded newspaper I walk over to Blue, kneel down and place my left hand over his shoulders, pinning him with his stomach against the floor.

"OWWIES! Pwease daddeh, huggie too tight, huwt Bwu! Pwease gud huggies, daddeh?"
"No, have more owwies. I insist."

The hammer descends against his skull.

Unfortunately for Blue, he tried to twist his head to see what I was doing, so the hammer hit his muzzle instead, crushing it against the floor.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

He screams continuously until my third strike with the hammer finds his brain.

***

Day 40.

The stray I brought home today is the third one my fluffy has beaten into submission, but now I need him to go further.

"WHAAAAAAAAAAA! PWEASE NU HUWT FWOWA, FWOWA SOWWY!"
"Huu.. fwuffy huwt Fwowa as daddeh say, fwuffy am gud, daddeh?"
"Not quite. Kill her."

"Nu... nu wan gif foewa sweepies, fwuffy wuv Fwowa... huuhuuhuu..."
"Fluffy..."

He looks up at me. Slowly I wave the knife that took his ears in my right hand.

"Do what daddy says: Kill her."

My fluffy stands up from his haunches, shooting looks at me, my knife, and Flower. During the following silence, which undoubtedly lasted for an eternity for my fluffy, all that can be heard are the sobs and cries of the stray.

I take half a step forward, and immediately my fluffy pounces on the stray, pounding down more stomps on her. Good. I'm not quite sure what I would have chopped off this time.

"UAAAAWHAAAHAAAHAAA! WHY HUWT FWOWA? HEWP FWOWA DADDEH! HEWP FWOWA!"
"HUUHUUUHUU... FWUFFY GIF FOEWA SWEEPIES! HUUHUUHUU... AM GUD FWUFFY!"

Flower tries to drag herself away from the wall with her barely working forelegs, but the repeated poundings mercilessly pin her against the floor, whittling away her vital signs as they fall on her.

"HEWP! *CHIRP* HEWP! *CHIRP*"
"WHAAAAAAAA! FWUFFY GUD, FWUFFY SOWWY, HUUHUUHUU..."

After some five minutes of repeated, monotonous pounding I notice that Flower has been silent for quite some time. I walk over to my fluffy, still stomping away awkwardly with legs shaking by fatigue. Grabbing him by the scruff I gently but firmly pull him a bit backwards and put him down on the floor.

Flower is bleeding through her mouth. Her head lies slack against the floor. Probing her neck I try to find a pulse, but find none.

My little fluffy has finally advanced to "murderer".

I turn to him and smile:

"Congratulations. She's dead. Well done."

I leave the room and return with a garbage bag. All the while my fluffy just sits silently on his haunches, staring at the corpse he made. I stuff it into the bag, refill the kibble dish and leave the room with the deceased, feeling proud about how well this went.

***

Flower was so pretty. She just wanted huggies.

You didn't give her any.

***

Day 50.

Today's the big day. I'm hoping this will be the final step in making my fluffy shed the last of his conscience.

I just got home from the fluffy store with a not yet weaned foal in tow. Whenever I think of how much I paid for it I almost fume with rage. I needed this specific foal, and I'm pretty sure that slimy clerk picked up on that and gouged me.

That fucking hypocrite. I'm pretty sure he's not really allowed to sell them this young, but wave enough money around and the welfare of the little critters, supposedly a crucial part in making them so well-behaved, flew right out the window. Still, if he's going to risk the mental welfare of a functioning breeding mare (and possibly his job), then I suppose he shouldn't do it for free.

After calming down a bit I move into the fluffy's room. I open up the box containing the foal and pick it up.

"*Chirp* Wan mummah!"
"Hush now."

I put it down on the floor, and it looks around itself.

"Whewe mummah? Can pwease haf mummah?"

Mu fluffy shuffles under the rags, and his head emerges.

"Eeep! Scawy! *Chirp*" the foal peeps, hiding under her hooves.
"Huu.... wha' daddeh bwing chiwpeh babbeh?"
"It another fluffy for you to stomp!", I reply with a smile.
"Nu... pwease nu make fwuffy huwt widdwe chiwpeh babbeh... babbehs... huu... babbehs nu awe fow owwies..."
"Fluffy. Get out here."

He leaves the rag nest and walks with heavy steps towards me and the foal. The filly stops covering her eyes and takes a look at my fluffy, seeming a little puzzled.

"Wha' fwuffy am ugwy? Is munstah? Babbeh nu wike!"

I smile at the comment, children can have such a humorous honesty. My fluffy really is quite ugly by now. The fluff, his species' namesake, really isn't: I've gotten so good at trimming him that he barely has any at all. His ears are missing, and through all my whipping his muzzle has become all scarred and leathery. I can't imagine it still being a useful tactile instrument.

My fluffy sits down on his haunches, covers his eyes and cries:

"Huuhuuhuu... nu am ugwy, nu am bad... huuhuu... wan be gud fwuffy... huuhuu..."

Ouch, that hit hard. Oh well, onto the business at hand.

"Fluffy: Kill the foal."
"*Chirp* Babbeh nu undastan', babbeh am bad? Am gud? Can haf mummah? *Chirp*"
"Huu.. pwease daddeh, pwease nu make fwuffy gif babbeh owwies... am just widdwe babbeh... pwease... huuhuu..."

I take two steps closer to my fluffy and snap my fingers, whereupon he lowers his hooves and looks up at me.

"Do. What. Daddy. Says.", I almost hiss.

My fluffy swallows and charges the confused foal. The filly stands up when he charges, but couldn't really anticipate the stomp that crushed her lower back.

"SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

After landing the stomp my fluffy jumps off the filly as if electrified.

"MUMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

The fluffy wavers, but soon lands another stomp on the now immobile foal's upper body.

"*Chiiii-..."

The mashed remains of the foal makes two attempts at drawing another breath but fails and falls into eternal slumber.

My fluffy looks down upon it with sad eyes, so I give a pep talk I've looked forward to all day:

"Well done! Daddy's quite proud of you!"

He looks up at me with teary eyes, and a smile almost forms on his mouth, but he soon turns back towards the grim gore in front of him.

"You're still a bad fluffy though, and only by doing what daddy says can you become a good fluffy."
"Wha...? Fwuffy huwt widdwe... huu... widdwe chiwpeh babbeh wike daddeh say, fwuffy nu am bad... huu..."
"Well, would a good fluffy really kill his little sister?"
"...wha?"
"Smell her. Seems familiar?"

Slowly, slowly, he inches towards the corpse, as if fearing what he will find. When just a few centimeters away with his nose, he gives two quick sniffs.

His reports on his findings are almost inaudible:
"...mummah...?"

"SISSY NUUUUUU! HUUUHUUHUU! FWUFFY AM BAD FWUFFY! FWUFFY WAN DIE! WAN DIE!"

He starts running against the wall and reaches it before I can react, crashing into it head-first.

"WAN DIE!"

He takes some steps back, charging the wall again, but before he can reach it my hand slams down on his back. Grabbing the writhing mass I strap him into the suicide board, securing his head firmly so he can't damage himself.

***

Mummah.

Fwuffy sowwy.

***

Day 80.

My experiment was a roaring success. After the foal he's never shown remorse or doubt before killing any fluffy I tell it to finish. Since then I've taken him out on walks on the weekend, clearing out fluffies from alleyways. None of the strays can really stand up to my trained and well-fed domestic, so he usually walks away with not so much as a scratch on him.

The walks were really amusing at first, but they lost their flair quite soon. I'm still taking him outside, but now it's more out of habit for me. Meh, I can use the fresh air I guess.

I put on the muzzle and the leash on my fluffy and walk out. I've given him some small compliments when he clears out an alley, so I think he quite likes the walks by now.

***

Walksies!

You love walking with daddeh! He makes you give forever sleepies to other fluffies, but at least it makes daddeh happy!

***

Later.

That was fairly... unsettling.

I've poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down at my kitchen table, staring out.

What happened there?

I glanced down an alleyway near the end of our walk and barely spotted some colourful fluff. I almost skipped it, but some part of me thought: "Why not? He's made for this after all". Kneeling down I undid his leash and muzzle and pointed into the alley.

"Kill." I said, and kill he did.

***

Owwies...

Why did daddeh hurt you? You did what he wanted. Why wasn't he happy?

***

When I got home I just kicked the fluffy into the safe room and closed the door, then went here to the kitchen.

What was different about today?

Just like he's done dozens of times, he charged into the alley, starting a struggle with the other fluffy. A mare, it would be revealed. A mother.

Her litter of three were lying chirping and peeping where she had been before my fluffy assaulted her. She didn't last long. My fluffy is quite adept and stomping the right places now, and he can even buck other fluffies.

When she was lying with broken limbs, barely able to breathe, in one end of the alley, my fluffy... continued. He walked over to the infants, and without any instructions, he ended them. Not even as much as a glance at me, no reading of Caesar's thumbs. He just stomped away two of them in an instant.

I think the last one was what unsettled me.

"*CHIRP* *CHIRP* *CHIRP*"

"Mommy, mommy, mommy" it cried, I imagine, in the only language it knew.

My fluffy grabbed the foal by the scruff, chucking it into the air.

"*CHIRP* *CHIIIIIIIIRP*"

Whereupon the captured it with his mouth, positioning the upper body of the foal between his molars, its rear hanging out through the sides of his mouth.

"*CHIRP* *CHIRP* *CHIRP*"

He turned around to the mare and watched her. I kind of hope she had alread passed away by then.

"*CHIRP* *CHIRP* *CHIRP*"

The foal pleaded, but my fluffy cared not. I've trained him better than that.

"*CHIRP* *CHIRP* *CHIRP* *CHI-SQUEAK*"

A squeak.

The foal's final plea ended with a sharp squeak as my fluffy bit down. A squeak of body juices and air escaping a very little equine body.

My fluffy spat out the foal and turned to me with a proud smile on his face. I couldn't react, so I imagine my face was fairly blank. This unnerved him: I guess he expected the usual praise.

I just knelt down and muzzled and leashed him. I gathered up the corpses and threw them into a garbage bin. Somewhere my fluffy started sobbing. He kept that up until we came home.

***

You've tried so hard to love daddeh.

Doesn't he love you anymore?

If you aren't a good fluffy, what are you?

***

Much later.

I haven't touched the coffee, it's probably ice cold by now.

The squeak.

I know they're vermin. They are.

But there must be a better way of dealing with them. There was something extremely... undignified about ending them like that. With a squeak.

I think I need a new hobby. Yes, that's it.

Tomorrow I'm snuffing my fluffy and getting a new hobby. I don't think I like what this one is turning me into.

***

You're a munstah.

You give owwies to other fluffies.

***