Box

box

>you are Brett Hipster, age 13
>last year you beat your stupid fluffy to death with a brick because it destroyed your work
>then your mother died in a car accident. dad’s been working more hours. keeps him focused.
>better that way. he drinks when he isn’t working.
>that means you have a lot of free time.
>dad pays the maid to mind you a couple of days a week
>but she can’t be there all the time
>the old man gives you a healthy allowance. figures money will buy happiness since mom is gone
>he’s not too far off
>bike down to the pet store in town
>you’ve been thinking about this for a few months
>you would snatch a wild fluffy but haven’t seen many around your area
>you heard that exterminators have been clearing a lot of them out of the region
>no problem… they’re pretty cheap
>purchase a yellow fluffy with pink mane, a pegasus. its legs are a little stubbier than usual
>”The girls around the shop were calling her Fluffyshy… of course, you can name it anything you want. They’re not particular about names.”
>thank the man. pop fluffyshy in a box
>immediately, it starts squealing and weeping
>”wha put in dawk pwace? dunn wike dis! pwease wet owwwwwt!”
>”Shut up, stupid.”
>you tie the box to your back fender. you make sure you take the bumpy road home
>you smile to yourself as the crying fluffy bounces around in her box, begging to be let out
>soon. very soon.
>you’ve taken a liking to the gardening shed. even soundproofed it a bit.
>(told the Mexican gardener it was to make it warmer for him in the winter. sucker.)
>you have a special selection of tools you’ve pieced together over the last few months
>you feel giddy
>dump the fluffy out of the box. she’s still crying
>”wha wha why keep in dawk pwace? fwuffy dunn wike dawk pwace! fwuffy bumpies! get owies!”
>you smile… then feel the rage explode inside you. you backhand the whimpering fluffy across the face
>”SHUT THE FUCK UP, STUPID!”
>she gasps, and immediately wets herself.
>you’re prepared for this. pick up fluffy, move her to the other side of the bench, wipe up urine with paper towels
>take out a cork. one of many from dad’s empty liquor and wine bottles
>plunge it into the fluffy’s anus.
>you notice the fluffy’s asshole looks very much like a dog’s… not a real horse or pony.
>she squeaks again and starts shivering
>”owies! no huwt poopie pwace!”
>”I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
>you smack her face again. she quiets down, but still whimpers. she tries licking her aching bottom. she can’t really reach
>you take the garden shears and cut off her legs and wings. she screams after each one.
>cauterize the wounds with a lighter, like you read about online
>hmmm… stranger… your pants are getting… stiff.
>you now have a yellow fluffy jelly roll. or burrito. or schmoo. or weeble wobble. the internet has a lot of names for legless fluffies
>it’s going to suck having to ride back into town to get another when this one is done with.
>or is it…
>you begin to formulate a plan. your best yet.
>plop the fluffy in a box. she sneezes from the dust
>”owwwwieeeees! why huwt fwuffy? pwease wet go! pwease! fwuffy wann gooooo!”
>you smack her in the face a few times. you feel your penis stiffen with each blow
>heh. blow.
>”Shut your fucking mouth and maybe you’ll live through this.”
>go back inside the house. get a wooden box, three small bowls, some newspaper, some foam rubber
>you build a fluffy box. newspaper on the bottom to catch urine. a bowl in the back for crap. two in front for water and food.
>soundproof the box with foam rubber, plus it should prevent the fluffy from moving
>not bad. it even has a handle for convenient carrying.
>take it out to the shed. the fluffy is still crying.
>”why weave fwuffy? fwuffy no wike disa pwace! smewll bad! fwuffy wann weggies back!”
>you smack it with a stick.
>”oooowwwwwww! no mo huwty stick!”
>”Shut the fuck up.”
>plop the legless fluffy into the box. keep it in your closet. add cedar chips to reduce smell.
>feed, water and clean it once a day. all it does is cry about the darkness and its legs.
>things are going to get worse before they get better
>head to pet store to purchase a male fluffy… but wait! you spot one by the side of the road into your development.
>it’s eating blackberries but is partially caught in the thorns.
>it looks at you with big, sad eyes.
>”pwease mista! hewp fwuffy! stuck in owie pwants!”
>you lift its tail up. a male. perfect.
>”why touch bad pwace?”
>”I’m, uh, getting you free. Relax.”
>you use your pen knife to cut some of the thorns and fluff loose.
>”thankew mistah! fwuffy wub new fwen!”
>”Would you like to meet another fluffy? And play with her?”
>”wuv meet new fwuffies!”
>”Good.”
>you carefully ride home, carrying the fluffy inside your jacket.
>pull fluffyshy’s box out of the closet
>”why… why dawk. fwuffyshy no wike dawk… pwease let fwuffyshy fwee…”
>”But I have a new friend for you.”
>you pull her out of the box. She flops around a bit on the floor. you can’t help but laugh
>”hewo! yo nawme fwuffyshy?”
>”fwuffyshy. no wann be in box. no wike dawk.”
>”Maybe you two should get closer.”
>you’ve seen Animal Planet plenty of times. you usher the male behind fluffershy.
>it instinctively starts nuzzling her fluff with his muzzle, first around her neck, then her sides.
>when he starts nuzzling the fluff around her groin, she starts to squeak.
>”no wike touchie dere! no wann!”
>”fwuffy give speshal hugs?”
>”Sure… give her special hugs. Have fun.”
>you notice your pants are starting to bulge a bit
>fluffyshy squeaks and starts to cry as the earth pony mounts her.
>she tries to struggle but does nothing more than flopping around on the floor
>”no pwease stawp! no wann speshal hugs!”
>”Shut up and take that cock, you whore.”
>you stroke yourself a bit. feels good.
>the male fluffy finally finishes. fluffyshy’s rearend is covered in sticky white stuff and a little bit of poop and blood.
>get to that in a minute
>”Good boy! You know what good boys get?”
>”nummies?”
>”No, they go in the trash can!”
>you start beating the shit out of the fluffy. it screams, trying to skitter away from you.
>”Where you going? HUH? Where you going?”
>you beat the thing a little more, then wrap a belt around its neck. its eyes bug out and it gasps for air, then goes limp
>toss it in a trash bag. you can burn it in the leaf barrel a little later
>grab fluffyshy. she squeaks, still crying from being raped.
>wash her ass off in the sink. takes a while. you make a mental note to shave her ass fluff if you do this again
>what do you mean if… when is more like it. heh.
>jam her back in the box. put it in the closet.
>you’re still horny. you wonder…
>”Hey, Rosalita… where you at?”
>Rosalita, the maid is in her thirties. a little husky, long black hair, decent face, big
tits.
>”I am in daddy’s bedroom mistah Brett!”
>perfect.
>you grab a handful of cash from where it’s stashed inside Optimus Prime.
>”Hey, Rosalita… how much does my dad pay you?”
>”Daddy pay me $75 a week.”
>”How’d you like to earn six times that much in five minutes.”
>”What mistah Brett need?”
>you reach out and squeeze one of her large breasts.
>”Make me feel like a man.”
>”No! No, mistah Brett! Is wrong!”
>you show her the cash.
>”$500. All yours… five minutes work. No one has to know.”
>you’ve learned early that greed is one of the best tools. she licks her lips nervously, then reaches for the money
>”Ah, ah… first… uh… we do it. Then the money. I’ll put it right here.”
>you put the cash under a lamp on dad’s dresser
>you’ve seen some porn on the internet. and you know some guys only last a couple of minutes and some can go way longer
>you’re hoping for the latter, but your cock is hard enough to cut diamonds right now.
>torturing and killing the fluffies really stimulated you.
>”Okay, mistah Brett… but we be quick. Daddy come home in a while.”
>”I’m guessing I will probably be quick.”
>Rosalita unzips her dress, it falls to the floor. you pull off your t-shirt. still no hair
on your chest
>she doesn’t seem to mind… she rubs your chest and then takes off her bra
>her breasts are big… easily 38C, maybe a little bigger. The nipples and aeriola are pretty big. you hungrily suck on them
>”Thas good, suck Rosalita’s boobs.”
>as you grab onto her big tits and switch back and forth between them, she undoes your pants. they fall to the ground
>”Mistah Brett… you very excited.”
>you pull down your briefs and your engorged cock pops up. you’re only four inches or so. you hope it gets bigger as you get older!
>Rosalita drops to her knees and takes your cock in her mouth.
>you gasp… you’ve jerked yourself off a few times but you never felt anything like this.
>”Mistah Brett like?”
>”Yuh… yeah… I hope… I hope we can do this again sometime…”
>”Hurry, Mistah Brett… daddy be home and Rosalita must clean room.”
>she takes a condom from one of your dad’s drawers. does he even use these any more?
>Rosalita takes off her panties. her thick, dark bush is inviting to you. she lays back on the bed, spreading her legs
>she spreads her thick labia open and motions for you to come to her
>”Hurry, mistah Brett… not much time.”
>you nod and climb on top of her, inserting your cock into her pussy. she’s wet… you read about that before. she must be enjoying herself
>your eyes practically roll back in your head. you’ve never felt anything like this before.
>she grabs your ass, guiding your stroke. she moans with each thrust.
>”Oh my god… it feels… it feels so good…”
>”Don’t stop mistah Brett…”
>you start pumping faster, trying to go deeper inside her. you feel your hips buckle.
>”Oh my god….”
>”Yes, give it all to Rosalita…”
>you feel yourself cum and half-collapse on top of Rosalita. she holds you, almost
maternally, in her arms.
>almost instinctively, you suck on her big boobs again. you feel her hands massaging your skinny ass.
>one of her fingers finds its way into your ass. you gasp again but don’t complain.
>”Maybe next time Rosalita show you something new.”
>”Yah… next time. Definitely next time.”
>”Get up, Mistah Brett… must finish room.”
>you nod, almost sadly, and stand up. you’re still breathing heavy.
>”Flush that down toilet and take good, hot shower, okay?”
>”Okay.”
>you do as you’re told. a few moments later you’re relaxing downstairs with a soda, watching TV
>dad comes home.
>”Hey, Brett… have a good day?”
>”Had a great day, dad. How about you?”
>”Not too bad. Rosalita still here?”
>”I think she was just finishing up the bedrooms.”
>”Running late, huh? She damn well better not be bucking for a raise or I’ll can her ass…”
>”NO! I mean, uh… no, it wasn’t her fault. It was mine.”
>”Go on…”
>”I made a snack… a sandwich and a glass of milk. Took it to my room on a tray. But I was wearing socks on the hardwood floor and I slipped and…”
>”Crash.”
>”Right. I’m sorry, dad. It’s all my fault.”
>”It’s not a big deal, son. You didn’t get cut or anything, did you?”
>”No, Rosalita helped clean up all the glass.”
>”Then forget about it. Say - how about we order pizza tonight. Sound good?”
>”Great, dad!”
>rosalita comes downstairs
>”So sorry running late, Mr. Hipster.”
>”It’s fine, Rosalita. Brett explained it.”
>”Explained?”
>she looks nervous. you speak quickly… you don’t want to ruin a good thing
>”You know, how I broke a glass in my room and made a mess and you cleaned it up. Thank you, Rosalita. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”
>”Is no problem, Mistah Brett! Good night!”
>”Good night.”
>whew. you wonder how long it’ll take to save up another $500.
>then you remember you got fluffyshy knocked up. you’ll have a bunch of new playments in a couple of weeks.
>maybe Rosalita will let you jam it in her ass. that would be a great way to celebrate fluffyshy’s impending birth
>it’s going to be a great month