abuse author:deadweight bum cannibalisim central_park fluffies-as-food homeless hugbox new_york_city questionable

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´╗┐Bait and Switch

Part 4

By Deadweight

“BIGGEST POOPIES!”

Horace sits up with a start and almost rips his tent open. He looks around and can’t find Sierra. He rushes outside to find her in a puddle of fluid, clenching her jaw and squinting hard. It had been a month now since they met and she was going into labor.

“Shit shit shit! Ok, it’s ok, Sierra. Daddy's here. Just breathe!”

Horace kneels and strokes her mane, soothing her and encouraging her. It’s over in minutes, five foals enter the world and Horace smiles and pets her.

“Good girl, Sierra. You did a good job!”

Sierra smiles weakly and pants as she turns to inspect her foals. Three of them peep noisily in a puddle of fluids. A green pegasus filly, a red unicorn colt and a turquoise earthy colt. She licks them clean and turns to the other two, a blue earthy filly and an orange pegasus colt. They do not stir as she cleans them and she stops and makes a sad face at Horace.

“Sniff, daddeh. Babbehs nu am movin. Huuhuu, dey am foweva sweepies!”

Horace frowns and strokes her back as she laments over the two stillborn foals.

“I’m sorry, Sierra. They just weren't strong enough. It’s not your fault, it just happens. But you still have three healthy babies to take care of. Let daddy get rid of them for you.”

Sierra sniffles and hugs the two lifeless foals and shakes her head at Horace.

“Nu, Siewwa take cawe of dem. Nu am babbehs nu mowe, jus weftovas.”

Horace blinks at this as she picks them up in her mouth and begins crunching their little bodies. Tears stream down her face as she somberly eats her dead foals. It makes Horace cringe and he slugs a bit of cheap whiskey and lights a smoke as she completes her meal and turns back to the other foals, cooing and placing them at her teets.

“Dewe dewe. Mummah am hewe, haf wotsa nummies fow make miwkies. Babbehs nu haf saddies.”

----------------------------------

An hour later, Horace has packed up their camp. The night they spent in Montefiore Square was claustrophobic and a little more exposed than he preferred, but they managed. He quickly stitched a second, smaller pouch into his coat and secured the peeping newborns in a napkin nest. He takes off from the small park and heads up Broadway. The foals chirp as Horace walks and lights a smoke. Sierra does her best to comfort them.

“It am otay, babbehs. Nu am bad uppsies! Daddeh gun fin nummies fow Siewwa, den gif babbehs mowe miwkies.”

Her tone seems somber and unsure to Horace. The image of her eating her dead foals weighs on him and he wonders if her heart is really in caring for them. As they walk past a billboard, Horace notices another marking.

“Look, Sierra, another silly mark.”

Horace attempts to distract Sierra from her own thoughts and draws her attention to the triangle with a horizontal line through it.

“Time to get things started, sweety. Let’s go meet the others.”

Horace moves along Broadway and turns off onto W 140th before entering a small, wooded lot. He finds T-Bone and Darnell waiting for him.

“Sup fellas? You boys find what I need?”

Darnell smiles and T-Bone nods.

“We found a good spot to gather em and a nearby spot for the killing floor. Plus we got us a guy who knows where we can rig up a couple freezers nobody will find. Whiskey Pete and Sherri been scrounging other shit. Knives, utensils, bowls n shit. Sergei found a whole crate of spices. Said it fell off a truck. Silm has a line on a big ole pit grill on a trailer. We gon snag that bitch in a couple nights.”

Horace grins and nods at the two men.

“Good, as soon as everything is gathered, we can start.”

Darnell slips Horace a flip phone and shows him the other one he holds.

“No more code bullshit, Horace. Need you to come when I call so we can do this. Lotta hungry people countin on this!”

Horace nods and the two men hug and he shares a handshake with T-Bone before parting ways.

“Time fow twickin mowe bad fwuffies, daddeh?”

Horace smiles down at Sierra’s question and pets her.

“Soon, honey. Very soon.”

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Nearly two weeks pass as everything is locked down and some promising herds are scouted. Horace continues to scavenge and hunt fluffies here and there. Sierra comes alive the most in the hunt. She cares for her foals, but with a certain detachment, almost repulsion. She feeds them and sings to them, but with a coldness. Horace can see the foals bring her no joy, in fact, they remind her of the awful unicorn that raped her. It’s only the deep maternal instinct programmed in her that keeps her from killing them after all. She sits one day in their camp In St. Nicholas Park and looks at her rolling, peeping foals hug and roll in the grass. How easy it would be to stomp their little heads and stop the incessant noise.

“Sierra? Are you ok?”

She looks up at Horace who stares down at her with concern and forces a smile.

“Yus, daddeh, Siewwa jus needta be awone fow a wittwe bit.”

She glances at the foals with a frown and walks into the bushes. Horace sighs, he can see now the foals only cause her pain. It will hurt her to lose them, but she will get over it. Better than to watch her slowly be pulled down by the weight of her own misplaced sense of duty. Horace scoops up the three peeping foals and rubs their tummies.

“There there little ones. No more need to cry now.”

Horace pulls out his buck knife and quickly cuts their heads off. He sprays some of the blood on the grass and walks off to dispose of the bodies. When he returns, he finds Sierra looking around in concern near the blood splatter.

“Daddeh! Whewe babbehs go? Siewwa nu can find!”

Horace frowns and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, Sierra. A bad fluffy got them when I wasn’t looking. I chased him, but he got away.”

She looks up at him with wide surprise in her blue eyes.

“Weawwy? B-bad fwuffeh take babbehs? Sniff, babbehs am gone?”

Horace nods and she starts to cry and sob. He scoops her up and she hugs his chest and weeps while he strokes her back. Horace suspects her sobs are a mix of sadness and guilt laden relief.

The next day, she is somber and quiet, but not absolutely distraught like most fluffy mares would be after losing their children. They share a can of peaches Horace snagged when the phone Darnell gave him goes off

RINGRING

“Hello?”

“Horace my man! Hope you got your shit together cuz we on today! We starting the herd sweep at your park and moving west. Meet you at Shepard Hall.”

CLICK

Horace closes the phone and looks at Sierra who wags her tail.

“Time to hunt, Sierra.”

The two head for Shepard Hall and meet up with Darnell and the other heads.

“Good, you’re all here. Here's the plan, we spread out along the park and push any fluffies we find together and march them west. We need everybody coordinated. We have to form a wall to scare em together and keep em moving, we can pick up any strays we find along the way too. Theo, did you get em?”

Theo smiles and hands Horace a walkie talkie.

“Everybody got one, we ready for this, man.”

Horace smiles and nods as he takes the walkie talkie.

“Ok, get them all out and herding. Lead them towards The Hamilton Memorial, Sierra and I will lead them west from there towards the holding point.”

Everyone nods in agreement and spreads out. Horace heads to the north end of the park and waits at the memorial. He sets Sierra in the grass and lights a smoke.

“Ok, Sierra. This is going to be our biggest hunt ever. Daddy's friends are scaring all the bad fluffies in the park this way. It’s up to you to help us lead them to the place where they can all gather before we take them out, Think you can handle this?”

Sierra grins wickedly as her blue eyes swirl and her wings flutter.

“Yus, Siewwa wan gif so many huwties tu bad, meanie, dummeh fwuffies!”

Horace smiles and ruffles her mane, that's the Sierra he knows and loves. The cold and eager hunter, not the beaten down mother. They wait and share some raisins until Finley radios in.

“Hey Horace, we are moving north from the W 128th end, we got 40-50 ferals and counting.”

Horace smiles and the radio chimes again.

“This is Sergei, we have corralled 30 more near W 131st and heading your way.”

He puffs his smoke and responds.

“Keep me updated, don’t let any group get further ahead than the others, they need to all get here at the same time.”

Over the next two hours, he gets more reports. In all, they have scared up more than a 150 ferals.

“Darnell here. We headed your way now, Horace. Be ready.”

Horace stows his gear and sets Sierra down.

“Ok, Sierra. Showtime, the bad fluffies are coming. Time to lead em that way.”

Horace points towards W 140th. Sierra nods and Horace hides as they hear many babbling voices coming.

“Keep wunnin! Meanie nu smeww pwetty hoomins am stiww comin! Huuhuu, nu wan huwties! Jus wan nummies and wuv!”

Horace hides as hundreds of fluffies emerge near the memorial, huffing and panicked. Sierra moves into the open and catches their attention.

“Hewwo fwuffies! Su many nyu fwiends! Am Siewwa! Whewe fwuffies goin?”

An orange and blue mare looks up at her and babbles quickly.

“Meannie hoomins comin! Dey scawy an nu smeww pwetty! Yewwin at fwuffies an chasin! Huuhuu, need safe pwace fow tu west an get nummies!”

Sierra smiles and scans the bedraggled crowd.

“Siewwa know safies pwace for hidey an nummies! Aww fwuffies fowwow Siewwa!”

She slowly heads out of the park towards the road and the message is passed down the line like a game of telephone. The massive group of fluffies begins to follow her and Horace radios in.

“We are on the move west, be ready with the roadblocks and shock points.”

“Copy that, Horace. We got men at all the crossroads.”

Now begins the hard part. This is probably the most coordinated effort of the city’s homeless population ever. Hundreds of bums cooperating to lead the ferals to the dinner plate. Sierra moves slow and hums a happy tune, her chipper demeanor seemingly infectious amongst the herd. The others begin to babble and the scattered message passed on to some has them believing they are on their way to Skettiland. When they approach Amsterdam Avenue, Horace radios in and four bag ladies cross the intersection and purposely crash their carts together, causing a huge mess.

“Watch where you’re goin you blind old bitch!”

“Who you callin a bitch you fat hag?”

“Fuck the both of you stupid whores!”

“I am also angry!”

Traffic grinds to a halt in the melee as Sierra quickly escorts the herd past the intersection. The theatrical display breaks up soon after and the bag ladies disperse. They move on and Sierra spots Horace ahead, pointing down Hamilton Pl. She smiles and nods, grinning as she turns the herd down the back street. Bums wait at the intersections to frighten or kill any stragglers and eventually they emerge at W 138th & Broadway. Sierra approaches the busy intersection as three bum's rush out into the road with stolen souvenir stands. They dumped them in the intersection and cause a massive mess. They rush the cars and swing at them with soft rubber toys from the souvenir cart to allow Sierra to coax the ferals along past the crossroads. She stops and gives the herd a chance to catch their breath.

“Huuhuu, Fwuffeh nu wike scawy metaw munstahs! Whew da safe pwace an da nummies?”

Sierra smiles and hugs the frightened blue colt.

“Nu haf saddies, we onwy hafta go past coupwe mowe noisy pwaces an den we get aww da nummies we eva need!”

Word filters down the herd and they soon resume babbling about food. Suddenly, Sherri rushes out with a broken golf club.

“Hey you little shits! Get the fuck outta here!”

The fluffies turn and run west in panic as Sherri makes lots of noise and bangs her club on the wall to scare them. The herd grows as they move along, bums pushing more ferals off the side streets. They fall into line with the herd in a follow the leader manner. After two more distractions at the intersections of Riverside Dr. and 12th Avenue, Sierra has reached her destination. The overgrown grounds of The Riverside Valley Community Garden are loaded with veggies and other plant life that has gone unchecked for years.

“Dis way fwiends! We found da nummy pwace!”

Sierra leads them quickly across the grass into the large, fenced off garden. The gate lock has already been snipped open by Slim and they file in and disperse.

“Yay! Su many nummies! Dis pwace am gud! Siewwa is da smawtest fwuffeh eva!”

Cheers ring out amongst the 200 plus fluffies as they begin to feast. The bums circle the park and hide as T-bone approaches Horace.

“Well, we got em this far, time to push em to the killbox?”

Horace smiles and shakes his head.

“Give em some time to eat and forget about us. When they get nice and fat and slow, we can push em to the killbox. They will be too sluggish to fight then.”

T-Bone agrees and passes the word on. They crouch in the brush and wait, watching as the ferals devour the overgrown garden. Many of them pause to hug and praise Sierra as their savior. They are given an hour to feast and then Horace signals her to the fence. She approaches and Horace whispers to her.

“Good work, Sierra. It’s time to move them again, we taking them to the hurty place. You ready?”

Sierra smiles and nods.

“Yus daddeh, Siewwa am weady!”

Horace smiles and she heads back to the herd and nibbles some vegetation. Horace radios the others and they begin to close in on the herd.

“What the fuck are you shit-rats doing here??? Get the fuck outta my garden!”

Horace stands and shouts as he storms through the garden gate.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEE!

“Munstah hoomin! Nu huwt fwuffies!”

Dozens of bums stand and shout as the herd whips around and finds themselves surrounded on three sides.

“Dis way! Fwuffies fowwow Siewwa!”

Sierra shouts and rushes towards the other side of the garden where the other gate now swings free. Dozens and dozens turn and follow her. More begin to follow until the whole herd is chasing after her. One more road to cross until they get to the killbox. The Henry Hudson Pkwy is no small obstacle. In the planning phases, this was the last, big hurdle to cross. But Sergei knew people. As The herd approaches the roadside, one of Sergei’s men barrels down the Parkway in a dump truck full of gravel stolen off a construction site in Hudson Heights. As he nears the crossroads, he swerves the truck and begins dumping gravel all over the parkway. Traffic screeches as he crosses the divider and lays down a thick swath of stones. The truck crashes into an embankment and the bum books it. Cars honk and people shout as Sierra leads the herd across the blocked off road and into Riverbank State Park.

“Keep goin! Dummeh hoomins nu get us hewe!”

The herd crosses over into the park and she leads them towards a large, fenced in tennis court. They filter into the court in a panic, eager to be away from their attackers. The first ones to bump into the back fence are surprised, but crushed under the rest of the stampeding herd util dozens upon dozens are pinned to it and turn to run the other way, only to be surrounded by more ferals.

“Nuuuu! Needta go back da otha way! Nu can get out dis way!”

The herd is too panicked to listen though and soon all of them are pushed into the court. Twenty bums were waiting in the wings for the moment and they rose and leapt into the killbox.

“End of the line, shit-rats!”

THOK!

SCREEEEEEEEE!

“Munstah hoomins!”

CRACK!

It turns into pandemonium as the bums begin slaughtering. Sierra watches the carnage unfold as she slinks through the crowd towards the entrance. Skulls explode all around her, blood splatters her coat as one bum takes off a purple mare's head with a machete. Another bum is swinging a bent aluminum bat. There's so many fluffies it goes down the line, smacking the back of their skulls like a mallet on a xylophone. All manner of rusty knives and clubs swing wildly, Ferals falling dead all around her, the green court runs red with fluffy blood. Sierra slinks past a bum that has a pink earthy held up by it’s mane while he guts it alive. It flails and screams as it’s innards rain down on the other ferals. Fluffies paw and push at the fence, poking their snouts through, waving their hoofs in a vain attempt to escape. Blood trickles from their snouts as they sob and try to push even harder. Sierra makes her way to the gate when a large green unicorn stops her.

“Dis Siewwa fauwt! Siewwa bwing fwuffies tu bad hoomins! Bad fwuffeh! Gun gif big huwties!”

The unicorn lunges for her, Sierra is panicked and desperate to escape. Her fear turns to rage and she bursts forward and sinks her jagged teeth into his neck.

SCREEEEEE-URK!

Her diet of fluffy meat has changed her, the warm blood fills her mouth and she thrashes her head until the feral goes limp. She quickly dashes for the gate and slips out onto the grass Just as Horace arrives and slams the gate shut so no ferals can escape. She huffs and stands near Horace’s feet as they watch the slaughter unfold. Sierra grins wickedly as desperate ferals paw at the chainlink and beg for her help, one mare’s tears stop as a long screwdriver sinks into her skull.

-------------------------------------

The slaughter was over in 10 minutes, the bums quickly scooped up as many as they could carry and scattered. They laid low with their hauls for a couple hours while the heat died down. There little migration and blockades drew some attention from the law. After the heat dies down, the bums gather at a construction site near W 131st street. Slim came through with the large grill and the trailer sits parked in the shade behind a beat up F-150. Some large plywood has been laid across some sawhorses to make a prep area. Horace walks down the line with Sierra in his pocket, giving tips on how to butcher the fluffies. Sierra salivates at all the meat on display.

“Hey, Horace! Is this deep enough man?”

Horace walks over to Darnell and a few others with shovels. They have dug a pit about 4 feet deep. Horace smiles and nods.

“Get the fire goin and get those coals good and hot before you douse it.”

Darnell nods and heads off to check the other prep stations as Darnell starts dumping wood into the pit and gets a fire started. All manner of veggies were scrounged for this feast, twenty bums stand peeling, chopping and slicing while another group crushes herbs and mixes sauces according to Horace’s recipes. The air is soon filled with aromatic smells. Slim soon has the grill up and running and the first batch of basted fluffy meat is slapped on the grill. Horace hums and brushes some bourbon heavy sauce on the meat and crumbles some cilantro onto it. Some sliced potatoes and summer squash are grilled as well. The side of the grill has a burner and Horace uses a big pot Sherri found to start a batch of fluffy stew. Veggies, water, spices, meat and some broth stolen from a bodega simmer in the pot as Horace turns and plates out the first batch of sizzling meat.

“Horace! The pits ready to go!”

Horace walks over to the pit they dug. The fire is doused and the coals glow. Horace smiles and motions them to bring over the tin foil. They scrounged every piece they could find and crimped it together into a large sheet.

“Nice, alright, load the foil up.”

Bums begin bringing piles of fluffy meat, veggies and a bucket of sauce. They wrap the heavy bundle up and dump it in the pit, quickly burying it.

“Perfect, give that a couple hours and we will have a feast!”

The others praise him, shake his hand and pat his back.

“Daddeh, can Siewwa haf nummies naow?”

Horace slips her a piece of barbecued meat and she coos and gobbles it up. While the buried meat cooks, Horace sits down with a plate of food and sets Sierra on the table. He shares a plate of barbecued strips with some grilled squash and tomatoes, savoring every bite. Sergei stands on a table and raises a glass.

“To Horace! Savior of the bums!”

They all raise a glass in cheer for him. Horace just smiles and feeds some more meat to Sierra.

“Eat up, Sierra. That's the taste of victory.”

END

Comments

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deadweight: The conclusion is here! Hope you all enjoy this one. I have some ideas for more adventures, but I think it's onto a different story now.
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Anonymous1: Loved it
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deadweight: @Anonymous: Thank you, glad to hear it.
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Anonymous2: Don't end it you dick, give us MOAR!!!! I also loved the "I too am angry" line.
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deadweight: @Anonymous: lol, I'll come back to Horace and Sierra again, but have some other stuff I want to write first.

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guodzilla: @deadweight: Fantastic! I hope we haven't seen the last of Horace and Sierra.
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Anonymous3: one of my favorite stories so far, can't wait to see how the PD takes this little stunt though.
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Anonymous4: I halfway expected Sierra to get mistakenly killed in the mêlée.
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deadweight: @guodzilla: @Anonymous: I have some ideas in mind. I will work on them while I write a fe other things

@Anonymous: Nope! she isn't done hunting yet!
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Anonymous5: Great story! I'll admit that three-fourths through reading it I starting having a suspicion that this would end in sadbox though.

I expected the killbox scene to end with a pround and triumphant Horace striding in to the tennis court to congratulate his little partner only for her to be nowhere to be seen. Then, amongst the myriad corpses, he'd spy a tiny but broken pink and blonde body (After all, I'd imagine one fluffy looks like any other in the eyes of a hungry bum and I doubt they were carefully checking every shitrat before they slaughtered them.)

It would have been a bitter-sweet ending with everyone enjoying a glorious feast but Horace would have lost his beloved fluffy friend yet again.

Regardless, a fantastic tale and I'm certainly not bothered to have found myself surprised by the end! Bravo!
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deadweight: @Anonymous: I'm glad you enjoyed. I put a lot of work into this one to make the locations accurate. Getting a herd across manhattan ain't easy! I'm not done with lil Sierra yet. Time will tell her ultimate fate!

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FluffyPuncher: Thanks.

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Great_White_Nope: Iron Bum Chef New York
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deadweight: @Great_White_Nope: lol
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Anonymous6: Sierra Rocks!

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Simpfan: I couldn't help wondering at the supernatural references of Merlin and Sierra, albeit swirling eyes. And "hungered" to know more about Ruckus.
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deadweight: @Simpfan: the swirling eyes thing is just my cannons way of depicting cannibalism. As for Merlin, He is FluffyFoals character and I have some plans to give him a story down the line
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deadweight: @Simpfan: Also, Ruckus is from an earlier story that featured Horace with another fluffy https://www.fluffybooru.org/post/view/45926
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Anonymous7: Masterful
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deadweight: @Anonymous: tyty
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Anonymous8: Give a family to Sierra so the family can hunt together.
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deadweight: @Anonymous: Not a bad idea, though it didnt go so well with her first foals. we will see.
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Anonymous9: This is so fucking convoluted, like why not get them straight to the tennis court? and all that bullshit about stopping traffic in a city like NY

I feel this story would make much more sense in a forest or something, could be a bunch of preppers doing this