Fluff Removal

>be Dale the Asshole Fluffy Pony Shelter Employee

>have the alarm on your phone set for 6:30 A.M.

>the alarm goes off; it's a recording of a fluffy pony sobbing and yelling “NUUUU!”

>you open your phone and look at the alert messages

>one of them is a calendar post; it reads “FLUFF REMOVAL”

>you smile and close your phone; you've been waiting for this for weeks

>start your day with your normal routine, eating breakfast and watching fluffy pony torture videos being linked to on GoreChan

>you don't know who this “Mwike” guy is, but as far as you're concerned, he's a goddamn wizard

>his recent videos have centered around him torturing a fluffy pony family

>that shot where he had the fluffy father rape one of his kids was heinous even by your standards

>he just gives you something to work toward

>right before heading to work, you go over all of your paperwork one more time

>as of closing time last night, the shelter had 126 female fluffy ponies, of which there were 67 mares and 59 fillies

>of those 67 mares, 21 were dams, with 6 of those currently pregnant

>on the male side, you had 115 male fluffy ponies, with 65 being colts and 50 of them being stallions

>assuming that each of those pregnant dams were to give birth to at least 2 foals a piece, that would mean you stood a chance of killing at least 253 fluffy ponies

>the current record, according to Fluffypedia, was 117 by an angry farmer; this would make you the biggest fluffy pony serial killer in the world

>you want that title more than just about anything else in the world

>you walk to work, only taking your trusty sorry stick with you

>it's a nightstick replica you bought off eBay

>you've actually used it on the job; the ponies are absolutely terrified of it; perfect

>throughout the last few weeks, you've been slowly but surely moving things around at the shelter, making it so that you can barricade doors and the like

>if all goes according to plan, and it should, since you're forced to spend the most time out of everyone in that shithole, you should be able to take your time with all of this

>Level-Headed thought he was being coy by sticking you with the shitty jobs; it's all about to backfire

>right about the time you were assigned to be Superfluff's bitch, he also made you the de-facto janitor and groomer

>this meant you had to show up a good 2 hours before everyone else, giving the fluffies “breakfast nummies” and primping the livelier ones for the window pen

>needless to say, this is mostly what helped you come to the decision of wiping out their inventory

>you finally get there and let yourself in, locking any and all doors behind you and putting emergency padlocks on everything, just to be certain

>from there on, you go about your morning routine as if it was a regular day

>you feed all of the fluffies their last meal, give the showroom fluffies baths, the whole thing

>before you begin, you make sure all of the security cameras are pointed in the areas you need them to be; you plan on taking the tapes after all of this

>right before getting started, you take a nice long walk around the entire shelter, observing all of these fluffy ponies and their behavior

>you walk through the back, observing the miserable looking fluffies in their cages, some hugging, some whimpering, some either just sleeping or lying on their back with blank expressions on their faces, accepting their fate

>you go to the front and see the happy looking fluffy ponies, chasing after balls, lying on their backs and babbling and all of that other pseudo-adorable fluffy pony shit

>superfluff is especially happy to see you, running up to you and giving your leg a hug

>”HI DADDY! Supahfwuff happy to see yoo! Wuv daddy!”

>you pat him on the head a bit and he goes back to playing; poor little bastard, he has no idea he's getting it the worst out of all of them

>last but of course not least you go to a secret room of the shelter few other employees actually know about; it's even behind a coded lock

>this room has a special batch of fluffies, sired there by Level-Headed and the owner

>you go in and observe all of the “celebrity” fluffy ponies that're kept here in luxury

>everyone you could want to see is there: Fluffyshy, Anon Martini, Cherry, Burrito, Goldie, Princess Sparkle, Truffle, etc. etc. etc.

>normally you hate going into this room because of the absolute chaos it almost never isn't

>but today you decide to give them all one last courtesy gesture, giving all of them “huggies” and “nummies” for both the first time in a while and effectively the last time

>to give credit where credit is due, things in here have calmed down considerably ever since you helped fluffyshy out by giving her a fluffy pony-sized strap on and holding Anontini down so that his uppance could cum

>ever since then he just sort of lay in the corner of his pen, whining softly to himself as all of the other fluffies taunted him

>Princess Sparkle was the cunt she normally was, calling you a “dummy hooman” while immediately demanding that you wait on her hand and foot right afterward

>Chester could barely fit in his pen when you first got him, but after some intense starvation dieting, he was back to normal fluffy size; now he spent his days whining and trying to get his scooter back from the others

>if you weren't such an asshole, you'd almost feel bad about killing this particular group; finding fluffies with actual personalities is about as rare as, well, a unicorn

>last stop was the room with all of the pregnant dams

>you keep all of them in their own pen with special beds and nice, extra-nutritional and substantial fluffy chow so that their foals actually serve a fighting chance of being sold

>in a couple cases, you actually allow the fathers in the room with them; fluffy pony love is something that you don't understand, but if it keeps the bowling balls from screeching, then you'll allow it

>you scratch all of the dams behind the ears and pat their bellies, each one of them a beaming beacon of pride, greeting you with variations of “Hi Daew! Fwuffy gon' be mumma!”

>in the pens with the fathers, they try to strut a bit when this happens, as if masculinity is a thing that exists in the fluffy pony world

>you've decided to kill these guys last; by that time, all of the chaos should force all of the dams into labor so that you can kill the foals in front of their mother

>traumatizing and devastating fluffy ponies is infinitely more pleasurable than just murdering them

>you take everything in, smiling and shaking your head

>this place is responsible for the worst 2 years of your life

>the stuff they forced you to do and the money that they gave you to do it was just insulting

>and these fucking creatures; these shrieking balls of piss and shit are just about the worst thing created by man, aside from the Snuggie

>for years now, you've dedicated yourself to being the loyal opposition to anyone who would actually give these things anything even resembling affection and/or care

>if anyone in your neighborhood ever so much as had one of them in their backyard for longer than a couple of days, you made sure to lure it out and give it the beating you thought it deserved

>thanks to their reputation of being completely stupid and helpless, you could always use that as a scapegoat

>because of this, you've never been caught; not that the owners could legally do anything to you anyway

>at your hands, fluffy ponies have been set on fire, pulled in half, buried alive, dissected, shot at, starved to death, dissolved in acid, or just plain beaten to death

>you think of it as retribution for all of the people in real life you could never do anything to

>in middle school, you were diagnosed as emotionally disturbed and put in special education courses

>this caused the other kids to christen you “Dale the Retard” and mock you relentlessly

>because, of course, the only way you ended up in special education was by being dumb; it could have nothing to do with just plain not wanting to deal with people

>you had to sit and take it, being completely powerless until your school had “bring your fluffy pony to school day”

>apparently you were the only one who noticed just how dumb of an idea this was; nobody could get any learning done; all classes that day were effectively cancelled

>the entire time all you could do was sit there and listen to these idiots cuddling with those oversized rat-teddy bear things

>the idea of actually doing anything to them didn't come to you until you had English class; your least favorite class due it it featuring pretty much all of your bullies and their girlfriends

>as you suspected, roughly half the class had fluffies

>you sat there browsing the Internet on your cell phone and listening to music, trying desperately to drown out those awful squeaks

>the fluffy ponies were pretty bad too

>everything was relatively tame until you felt something nudging your leg

>you look down, sure enough, it was the fluffy pony belonging to Stacy Jensen, the girl you've had a crush on since the 6th grade

>it was the typical “girl next door” sort of scenario, she and her family had lived across the street from you for as long as you could remember

>you were actually really good friends until her dad got a raise and they moved into a bigger house across town, forced pleasantries with the popular crowd, and turned into a complete bitch

>Stacy, apparently, had left to go use the little duplicitous harpy's room, leaving her fluffy pony to put you in a position you really didn't want to be in

>you looked down, sighed, and took one of your earbuds out of your ear

>the fluffy pony looked up at you with one of their standard issue shit eating grins and blank, big-eyed stares

>”Hewwo! Nuu fwiend fow fwuffy?”

>You ignored it and went back to what you were doing; apparently, the fluffy didn't like this very much and started to cry

>If fluffy ponies receive as much attention as this one inevitably did, they were going to start to believe that everyone was going to treat them as well; they fell apart whenever they didn't

>Stacy came back from the bathroom and noticed her fluffy crying at your feet and got pissed

>”Dale! What the hell did you do to Mirabell!?”

>Her dudebro piece of shit boyfriend from across the room decided to join in, you guess trying to get into her pants even more often than he probably already was

>”Look hon, it probably wasn't Dale the Retard's fault! He's probably just too stupid to figure out how to deal with other people's pets!”

>Everyone had a great laugh at your expense; nothing you weren't used to

>The final straw however came after school that day when you were getting in your car to go home; you found fluffy pony shit in your driver's seat

>As you were cleaning it off, you heard a honk; it was Dudebro and Stacy, driving past you

>Stacy was holding Mirabell out the window, coaxing her to taunt you

>”Dere's mow' were dat came fwom, wetahd daew!”

>In that moment, you finally decided to do something

>Your little sister had had fluffy ponies as pets before, you knew how to mess with their heads

>You also knew that Stacy kept Mirabell locked outside at night

>At around midnight, you drove over to her house and snuck through the back gate, finding Mirabell asleep in a dog bed

>you clap your hands loudly, waking her up

>she sees you almost immediately, perking up and waddling over to you

>”Hewwo hooman! Wan' pway wiff fwuffy?”

>In almost one motion, you put duct tape over her mouth and pick her up by one of her back legs

>She squirms a bit, but it was nothing you couldn't handle

>you take out a flyswatter, striking her with it several times

>after about 20 or so strikes, several fluids were now leaking from the fluffy

>you set her down, rip off the duct tape, kick her in the ass, and run like hell

>the next day in English, Stacy shows up in class in tears

>everyone asks her what's wrong

>”Something horrible happened to my Mirabelle!”

>you smile on the inside; apparently she died from her injuries

>the look on her face was amazing; so much so, that you decide to turn this into a hobby

>after a while, you decided to just take a polaroid of the corpse and leave it in an envelope on their porch

>fast forward 6 years to today, reminisce on all of the great memories that fluffy pony abuse/murder have brought you over the years

>you shrug; Stacy shouldn't have been such a bitch

>you go into the control room and attach your iPod to the sound system; Venetian Snares seemed like the perfect soundtrack for such impending chaos

>you crank it up; almost immediately, you hear some fluffy ponies crying

>you walk into the front playroom, you see fluffy ponies covering their ears and yelling about how they “dun wike woud”

>calmly, you take out your sorry stick; it's fluff removin' time

>first you go into the back and let all of the other fluffy ponies out of their cages; a lot of them cheer and prance around happily, others stay in their pens, intimidated by the noise

>some fluffies that used to be smarty friends come up to you, looking for retribution for being trapped in those cages for so long, away from their heard(s)

>you respond by picking them up, smacking them across the face a few times, and putting marbles in their nostrils

>after this, they only have a few minutes to live

>you stand there and watch for a few moments as they try to force the marbles out of their noses

>”HEWP! FWUFFY CAN' BWEAVE! PWEASE HOOMAN HEWP FWUFFY!

>sure enough, they eventually pass out, never to wake up again

>the other fluffies sort of nudge the now dead ones, tilting their head in confusion

>”Wy fwuffy go sweep? It not sweep time!”

>you walk up to them and strike them in the head with your sorry stick, your good friends “blunt force” and trauma” doing their thing

>current body count: 5

>the other fluffies start to notice what you're doing and start to cower, some of them retreating back into their pens

>anticipating this, you go to your other friend Mr. Roto Rooter blade that you specifically placed in the back corner of this room a couple days ago

>you turn it on and target the nearest fluffy, currently shaking and too scared to make noises

>you jam the blade up its asshole, enjoying the agonizing screams the whole time

>you repeat the process on a few of his friends, each struggling a bit more than the last; the last one even bites your finger

>he gets the blade in his eyes for his troubles

>current body count: 15

>the rest of the fluffies in that room have formed an emergency fluff pile, trying to barricade themselves from you and the machine

>what they didn't realize is that this actually makes it easier for you to kill them

>you turn off the blade; the fluff pile collectively sighs with relief

>now, you walk over, grab a can of kerosene, and pour it on them

>every fluffy starts crying and whining about the “stinky wawa”

>you take out your trusty “Fuck Communism” lighter, flick it on, and start 'er up

>”NUUUUUUUU! FWUFFY ON FIWE! HEWP FWUFFY! FWUFFY OWCHIES!”

>current body count: 33

>next up is what's referred to as “the family room”

>this is, of course, where all of the fluffy pony families live

>a lot of the time, workers lead families back into this room, trying to show them just how heart-meltingly sweet fluffy ponies can actually be

>it's usually a good sell; there aren't too many other shelters where you can actually hold a conversation with the potential pet before you buy it

>it's the only room in the shelter without any sort of speaker system; when you walk in you see at least 5 or 6 fluffy pony families snuggling, sleeping, or playing softly as if nothing was happening at all

>you walk into the room and some of the foals cheer, thinking they're either going to get some food or something else pleasant

>they walk up to you and start hugging your legs, babbling and making all of those noises you hate so goddamn much

>you take out your sorry stick; at first, the fluffies don't even notice it

>you walk up to one of the fluffy families that's sleeping

>this fluffy dam has about 3 foals, each of them snuggled into their mother's fluff

>some abusers have a rule against hurting female fluffies or children

>you don't have that rule

>you deliberately pick up the one being held in mumma's arms first to wake her up

>she yawns a bit and blinks her eyes a few times, not noticing that one of her kids is missing

>”Hi Daew! Wan' pway wiff mumma and fwuffy?”

>Eventually she hears her foal crying and puts two and two together

>”NUUUUU! WUT DAEW DOIN' WIFF BABBEH1? GIF BABBEH BACK TO MUMMA!”

>She gets up faster than you've seen any fluffy pony move, her other two babies falling off, waking up with a start; they start to cry out of both fear and confusion

>the fluffy dam puffs up her cheeks and starts stamping her hooves

>right in front of her, you hold the foal down on the floor and beat it to death with your sorry stick

>she bursts into tears, hugging her other foals to try and keep them away from you

>with little struggle at all, you pick up her next foal, holding it like you would an ear of corn

>you start pulling on the foal, relishing in the screams and the sounds of bones cracking

>you successfully pull the second foal apart, dropping it in front of its mother, who's inconsolable at this point

>she tries even harder to hug her last foal, going as far as to try and buck your hand away and bite your fingers off

>you slap her as hard as you can, slapping her across the face and sending her and her last foal flying

>you pick up the foal who's now crying almost as hard as mummah is

>you wait until mummah regains her composure and comes back over to you, this time with a lot less aggression

>she comes up to you and places her hooves together like she's begging

>”pwease daew! Dun kill babbeh! Babbeh all mummeh have!”

>you bite the head off of the foal, spitting it at its mother and dropping the body on the ground

>Mother fluffy collapses in tears, seemingly crying the will to live right out of herself

>she lies trembling on her side in a heap; you put her out of her misery with a few shots to the head

>the rest of the families have been watching in terror while you desecrated that first family

>the mothers and most of the foals cower in fear and puddles of piss and shit; the few dumb brave ones trying to stand their ground and protect everyone while their mothers yell at them to get back

>the first one is female, trying its hardest to stay on its feet; it's never really walked before

>she does the standard cheek puffing thing, trying to stand her ground against you, trying to fend you off

>what must go on in these fluffy pony's heads? Do they legitimately think they're intimidating? Do they think they stand a chance against any human at all? This is unfathomably pathetic

>you watch as she waddles across the floor toward you, tripping and falling forward a few times, trying not to tear up

>she finally makes it over, stamping her tiny hooves and looking up at you

>”Hey munstah! Yoo weave fwuffies awone! Weave us awone ow get owchies!”

>Some of the other fluffy foals waddle forward, taking the initiative and trying to scare you away as well

>If they actually had arms, they'd probably be linking them together; this is hysterical

>You decide to toy with them a bit, acting scared and dropping the nightstick

>The fluffies celebrate, chanting about how they “beat the munstah”

>you wait until they turn around; you pick one up

>the foal starts to scream; the rest turn around and face you

>you walk around the room a bit, the other foals bucking you in the shins

>most of them are so tiny, you can't even feel anything

>eventually you bring everything to a halt, throwing the fluffy foal at the rest, knocking most of them over

>they all start crying, realizing that they've all lost the fight

>the fluffy dams all start wailing as they see you stomp all of their children to death

>the dams all band together now, each of them with tears in their eyes

>they all start doing the thing that all fluffy ponies do when they feel threatened, but of course it gets them nowhere

>you pick up the first dam and start wacking her in the back with your stick as hard as you can

>despite protests of “WY HUWT FWUFFY!?”, you keep going until you hear the snap you were looking for

>you drop the first dam on the ground, now rendered completely paralyzed

>the rest are obviously intimidated, but somehow they still manage to stand their ground

>just to up the cruelty level a bit more, you pull a small package of cookies out of your pocket

>the fluffy ponies almost forget about what was going on; their eyes get big as saucers

>”Dat cookie!? Fwuffy wan' cookie! Pwease giv!”

>You take a cookie out of the package and kneel, gesturing for the nearest fluffy dam to come over

>Reluctantly, she makes her way over to you

>Right as she tries to take the cookie out of your hand, you grab her by the throat picking her up and slamming her back down on the ground

>Gurgling noises and tears follow as you take the stick and strike her in the midsection with it until she's spitting up blood

>The last three dams are cowering in the corner with their hooves over their eyes, the obligatory puddles of piss and shit everywhere

>For these three, you wonder if you should switch up the torture again or just keep going with what you normally use

>You look back over at the Roto Rooter blade; naah, you have to clean that off and bring it back to the store

>Sorry stick is getting kind of tired, you should probably put that back in your pocket for a little while...

>You continue looking around the room until you see two friends that you forgot you even had: Mr. Axe and Ms. Sledgehammer; you put those in here over a week ago and totally forgot about them; what a pleasant surprise!

>Ms. Sledgehammer asks to go first;  you two haven't seen each other since you put that one haggard ass fluffy down; you comply by picking her up and heading over toward remaining fluffy dam number 1

>She screams while you put your foot on her body, but stops, presumably preparing for the inevitable

>One sickening thud and a sort of squishy noise later, you're down another dam

>You swing again, quickly getting rid of the next dam before moving on to Mr. Axe

>You'd hate to be this last fluffy right about now; this is going to hurt like a son of a bitch

>She sees you walking over with the axe, but strangely she doesn't try to fight it

>You see the look in her eyes; you've traumatized her into a catatonic state; hopefully she'll still feel this...

>You hack the fluffy into several small pieces, putting all of the corpses into a pile

>Body count: 61

>Next room is probably going to be your favorite: the celebrity fluffy room

>You punch in the code and walk in; amusingly, despite the music, there's slightly less chaos than normal

>Princess Sparkle is busy trying to boss the other fluffies around as per usual, and Fluffyshy and Fluffy Derpy are in the corner, just sort of, well, you probably couldn't call it talking; you doubt fluffy ponies are actually able to hold conversations

>First order of business is to find Anontini, who's moping in his pen

>You bring out the fluffy dam replica you made just for this occasion and spray some fluffy pheromone

in his direction

>Immediately he turns back into the Anon Martini of old, looking around frantically for something to stick his dick in

>He tries to go for both Fluffyshy and Fluffderp, you sway him slightly

>You gesture toward the fluffy replica you made; it looks exactly like Cherry

>He squeals with joy, immediately running up to it and mounting it

>He starts humping for a bit when he stops immediately and starts to cry

>You filled this particular model with broken glass, barbed wire, and plastic explosive

>He pulls out and starts whining about how much his “pee pee pwace huwts”

>You pick him back up and put his penis back inside the model, telling him you'll give him “bigger owies” if he doesn't finish

>while he's going about it and crying more than his victims usually would, you make your way behind a makeshift blaster shield

>you hear Martini straining and you brace yourself; a few seconds later there's an explosion

>you look at the damage; every fluffy in the room is dead except for fluffy Derpy, currently crying about “why no wawk!?” as the nearby sledgehammer fell on her back, crushing her spine and leaving her as paralyzed as that fluffy dam was earlier

>you'd put her out of her misery, but you'd take too much joy out of knowing how bad she's suffering

>body count: 74

>you leave the specialty room and make your way back to ruin the lives of more fluffy dams in the pregnant fluffy dam room

>you really think Level-Headed and crew, should they actually go about remodeling this place, should think of better names for these rooms

>this is another room where speakers don't usually go, for obvious reasons; pregnant dams are easily spooked; normally, you wouldn't want them going into premature labor

>Just like the other family oriented room, everything was incredibly peaceful

>For whatever reason, the fluffy fathers are actually sticking around with the poor dams that happen to be on the wrong end of their seed

>Picture this: it at least one situation, mumma is fast asleep with actual daddeh resting his hooves on her belly

>you know of several hugboxers that'd love to be able to see what you're seeing right now

>maybe take a picture of it with your cell phone and use it as the thumbnail to the video you're going to be making of all of this

>you deem it a good idea and take out your cell phone and snap the photo; the sound it makes wakes up another one of the fluffy couples

>”mmmm...Hi Daew...how wong tiww babbehs?”

>these things are WAY too trusting for their own good; it's almost making YOU uncomfortable

>you walk over to her and pat her on the head

>”It shouldn't be too long.”

>they're all smiles as you walk away

>where did you put that chainsaw? You swore you put in it in the pregnant dam room...

>ah well, you're just going to have to wing it

>you walk over to the couple you just got done talking to and pick up the dam

>at first, neither of them seem very frightened at all; in fact, she's smiling

>”Daew, when fwuffy mumma, wiww yoo cum pway wiff babbehs?”

>”Sure!” You say. “In fact, let's start playing right now!”

>You start squeezing the dam as hard as you can

>She screams in pain and tries to plead with you to stop

>”NUUUUU! WUT DOIN' TO FWUFFY!?”

>The fluffy stallion tries his best to stop you; nothing comes from that

>Eventually the underdeveloped foals start falling out of her, along with a lot of blood

>You repeat the process with all of the dams, clubbing what fluffy dads there are to death

>One of these things was pregnant with 5 foals; as far as you're concerned, you were doing it a favor, there was no way in hell there wasn't going to be at least one runt in that litter

>You throw all of the corpses in the barrel you've been using for all of them; you plan on dissolving all of the bodies in acid, Jeffrey Dahmer style

>Body count: 94

>You go through all of the other rooms, disposing of all of the fluffies in similar methods to the ones you've been using

>Plenty of begging, crying, and blood ensue; this entire place looks like you were a set dresser for a horror movie starring fluffy ponies

>You more than surpass the record, with the current body count sitting at 188

>Apparently your calculations were a bit off; that, and some of the fluffies had already killed themselves in the initial confusion

>You head over toward the last room in the place, the front showroom

>You never opened the front window, for obvious reasons

>The entire time, these fluffies have sat helplessly, listening to every other fluffy in the shelter get slaughtered

>Of course, there's piss and shit everywhere, fluffies in their usual “in they can't see me, I'm invisible” stance

>You get there, and, you can't believe you're saying this, but you're finally getting tired of killing fluffy ponies for a while

>It makes sense; you've killed them in almost every method possible, and you've more than broken the old body count record; what else do you have to prove?

>They're all terrified, aside from one: Superfluff

>Superfluff, annoyingly, is just as chipper as he always was; somehow, he's remained completely oblivious to this entire situation

>He sees you coming and he bounces over to you, hugging your arm

>Goddammit...this isn't one of those Pygmalion situations happening, is it? You can't grow soft on Superfluff now, the little bastard has been nothing but a nuisance for the last 6 months

>Naah, you just decide to get ride of him last

>You walk into the pen and take out your sorry stick

>Right before you're able to use it, the weirdest fuckin' thing happens

>Superfluff takes the lead and bites the nearest fluffy pony in the neck, drawing blood and effectively taking him out; he does with with another 3 or 4 of them

>You watch in awe as what must be the most badass fluffy pony ever does what I guess he does best

>When he finishes, he nods and looks proud of what he's accomplished; you still look at him wide-eyed

>Here you have a fluffy pony that smiles wider than Derpy and Pinkie Pie combined, yet he's like a miniature fuckin' assassin

>”Woah, Superfluff, where'd that come from?”

>”Supahfwuff wan' hewp daddeh take caew of dummy fwuffies!”

>Your eyes gets even wider; your own attack fluffy pony? Can something that awesome even exist?

>”Alright little dude, if you want to help me out, take care of the rest of these guys for me!”

>Superfluff proceeds to do just that, absolutely decimating the rest of the show pen, even picking one up by the scruff of its neck and flipping it onto its head

>You don't know how this thing got here, but you're ecstatic that you're the one that got to find out what it's capable of

>You gesture for Superfluff to come over; he does, climbing up onto your shoulder like a parrot

>Grabbing one of the fluffy corpses, you write “I QUIT – DALE” in blood on the carpet inside the show pen

>you gather up all of the corpses and put them in a barrel, quickly dissolving all of the evidence

>you grab all of the tapes and turn off the music, unlocking all of the doors

>you and Supefluff walk out the backdoor, preparing for a new life as the kings of the neighborhood

>walking home, you come across a really sad looking fluffy dam with orange fluff and a mane the same shade of red as Superfluff's

>He jumps off of your shoulder, deciding to make nice with her

>Once he sniffs her ass, she starts crying: “NUUUU! WEAVE FWOO AWONE!”

>Superfluff looks up at you: “Can we keep heww?”

>Hmm, with a fuck buddy, maybe he'll leave you alone every once in a while, but what about foals?

>Ah well; you decide you'll cross that bridge when you come to it

>The three of you walk back toward Dale's house, officially the weirdest and most demented family in existence