Zodiac Part II
 
FYI - this is extremely violent and bloody, having been told from the point of view of the killer. If you don’t like this sort of thing, please skip.
 
>you are the Zodiac fluffy killer
>you hate fluffies. you’ve hated them since you were a child
>you’ve spent the last couple of months tormenting a detective on the town’s police force
>you’ve left fluffies in a variety of death traps with a zodiac theme
>you’re working on your latest batch.
>you’ve trapped a few feral fluffies in the park and brought them to an abandoned building
>power is off, so no alarms. just a couple of battery-powered lanterns.
>makes it feel more intimate. the darkness shrouds you like a security blanket
>two weeks ago you set up a wonderful trap with scorpions. the last fluffy, a unicorn, you left alive
>but you placed a tripwire in the room. when the detective approached to investigate, he set it off
>the tripwire released more scorpions that stung the fluffy to death
>you wish you could have seen the looks on their faces. maybe set up IP cameras next time.
>this time around you’re going for Sagittarius. this one will be a challenge because it requires 22 fluffies
>this will be fun, though.
>you trace out the star sign on the tile floor of the building. used to be a thrift shop or something.
>you open the cardboard boxes containing the fluffies and evaluate them
>perfect… two unicorns. the rest all pegasus and earth ponies.
>one of the unicorns is a smarty. you can just tell by looking at him
>”smawty no wann be hewe! smawty say hooman take back to gwassie pwace!”
>you pick him up from the box. he’ll be first.
>you jam a cork into his anus. he squeaks and immediately starts saying he’s sorry.
>oh, he’ll be sorry all right
>you beat his skull to a pulp with a ballpeen hammer, then cut it off the body.
>you grab the other unicorn. it’s a female.
>”why huwt smawty fwen? whyyyy! smawty fwen was husban! pwease wake up husban!”
>that’s adorable. they were mated unicorns.
>save her for last.
>next are the pegasus fluffies… ten of them
>you take your beloved pair of garden shears, meticulously sharpened and oiled, and trim off all their wings. you now have a box of screaming, crying, shitting de-winged pegasi.
>you’re all alone, but they’re making a racket. better take them out quick.
>you get out your butane-powered sodering iron and grab the first pegasus by its tail
>its pink, puckered anus has a dirty shit ring around it. sickening.
>you jam the soldering iron up its ass, its vital organs pierced and burned. it gags, trying to scream, and goes limp
>you grab each screaming fluffy, subjecting them to the same fate. a couple of them are still gurgling in agony. they’ll be dead soon, too.
>twelve fluffy ponies. nailed to the floor. ten fluffies left and then there’ll be no more
>hee hee. you should start writing poetry to the dectective. that’d chap his ass.
>speaking of chapped asses…
>you examine the remaining earth ponies. six of them, two are pregnant mares.
>you hope the mares have at least two foals each… it would be a pain to have to get more fluffies this time of night
>you disptach the first four fluffies quickly. they’re not as much fun as pegasi or unicorns
>a simple hacksaw across the neck leaves them beheaded.
>those you simply toss to their appropriate star locations. no worries about a decapitated fluffy crawling out of position
>you grab one of the two mares. she squeaks and immediately starts crying once she sees the remains of her herd
>”noooooooo! bad man pwease no huwty! gonn haff babehs soon! pwease no huwty babehs!”
>you smack her across the face a few times. feels good.
>her legs barely touch the ground. that’s good. she’s ready to pop. time to induce labor.
>you take a motorcycle battery out of your pack and attach a small set of jumper cables to it
>you open the alligator clip and slide one of the “teeth” into the fluffy’s anus, then clip it shut. she screeches.
>the other alligator clip goes on her tongue. she gags as the voltage runs through her frail body.
>almost immediately her vagina opens and newborn foals begin spilling out.
>you count… one… two… shit. only two.
>unhook the battery. the mare, her tongue and anus bloody from the sharp alligator clips, begs to you.
>”pwease… pwease wet see babehs… pwease no huwty dem…”
>”Well, since you said please…”
>you pick up one of the foals by the scruff of its neck and slap it around. its eyes not even open yet, it mews sadly for its mother
>”nuuuuuu! babeh dunn cwy mommath hewe! mommath hewe!”
>you slam the baby to the ground, crushing its bones
>”nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!”
>you show her the other baby, which meets the same fate.
>the mare, her nervous system still recovering from the electricity, crawls feebly towards her dead foals.
>you put a stop to that… with a nail through her head.
>pause for a refreshing beverage. Nestea. yum.
>grab the last mare. she must have seen what happened to her friend. she puts up a fight, kicking desperately with her soft feets
>”nuuuuuuuu! nuuuuuuuuuu! you no take babehs! you no huwty!”
>a punch to the face puts an end to that.
>like the other mare, you hook up the battery with alligator clips. the mare’s body convulses and she craps out four foals
>good. enough to finish… and then some.
>unhook the mare. her big eyes fill with tears. her lip quivers
>you stand back. let her think you’ll let them go.
>her eyes widen.
>”no huwt babehs?”
>”Clean them up. Feed them.”
>the mare lays down next to the shivering, chirping foals. they remind you of newborn bunnies with the sound they make
>come to think of it, you kinda hate bunnies, too
>you watch in silence, surrounded by the darkness, for several minutes. the mare licks each baby clean and places them at her teats
>they take turns fighting for position, but the mare carefully plucks each one away so they get a fair turn
>how democratic.
>you hate democrats.
>oh well. time to finish up. The 700 Club will be on soon.
>you grab the two foals from her teats.
>they start crying… even at a few minutes old, their language center is rapidly developing
>their chirping is already intersperced with “mamma… mamma…”
>you smash them to the ground. the mare screeches.
>”ahhhhhhhhh! babehs! you say no huwty! babehs wakey! mamma hewe! pwease wakey!”
>you push her away, grabbing the dead foals and placing them on the star map
>not including the mama, there’s two foals too many
>only one solution.
>grab the mare and throw her on her back. hold her down with your boot
>you pry the mare’s birth canal open and shove the two extra babies back inside.
>it’s tough going… already their fluff is drying and thickening.
>the mare screeches, not knowing what’s going on or how to react
>duct tape across her vaginal opening.
>stomp on her mid-section. killing both the mother and the babies
>place her on another spot of the star chart
>finally… the piece de resistance…
>time to build your sagitarrius.
>the remaining unicorn mare is curled into a ball, trying to keep the screams of the herd from her ears
>you pick her up… she’s shaking, crying silently
>shave the fluff from around her mid-section. her body is so slim under all that fluff.
>you prepare a scalpel… you really want her to live through this…
>”FREEZE! POLICE!”
>no.
>NO NO NO.
>impossible… you didn’t give enough clues yet! how…
>”I said FREEZE! Get on your hands and knees!”
>no… must finish your creation…
>you bring the scalpel down, meaning to bisect the fluffy. you had intended to mount her upper torso on the other unicorn’s body
>basically create a fluffy centaur - one of the depictions of sagittarius
>the officer sees the scalpel glint in the light of your lantern.
>he fires.
>stinging pain in your shoulder. like nothing you’ve felt before
>fall back… struggle to sit up. must finish…
>a foot kicks the scalpel from your hand. how 80’s action movie-ish.
>rough hands flip you over and handcuff you.
>you feel a fist punch your testicles. how rude.
>you hear the voice of the detective. you’d memorized it from his voice mail message
>”Is that you, detective?”
>”The fluffy zodiac killer, I presume.”
>”I must ask… how did you find me? Surely not the clues…”
>”Wish I could take credit for that, but no… a passerby heard the fluffies screaming. Saw the light reflected off a mirror.”
>”Dammit.”
>knew you should have muzzled them all, but you do savor their precious screams so much…
>”I know this guy, detective… there’s a warrant out for his arrest. Arson.”
>”That so, Mr. Zodiac?”
>”I’d like a lawyer, please.”
>pass out.
>wake up in the hospital
>your shoulder has been patched up.
>time to come up with a plan. you’re good at planning.
>notice your doctor was about to leave the room but noticed you wake up.
>”How do you feel, Mr. Hipster?”
>”Please, doctor… call me Brett.”