A Good Night
Overton Park used to be a nice place. The park was a few hundred acres at the
edge of the city, a kind of forest bridge that connected it to the state forest
beyond. The parts of the park adjacent to the city had easy walking trails,
biking trails, a swimming pool, tennis courts, and other similar amenities. The
deeper parts of the forest had hiking trails ribboning throughout. One could
even hike through the park's forests into the state forest, if one were
interested in more rugged terrain, or doing some backpacking.
It had become hard to enjoy any part of the park in recent years, however. The
herds of feral fluffies and escaped or abandoned domestics who had flooded into
the park had only been the start of the problem. They had crowded into the
popular areas, begging for "nummies" and for parkgoers to be their "nyu mummah"
or "nyu daddeh". They had run across the biking trails with no attempt to see
if bicyclists were coming, causing several accidents, not to mention fluffy
roadkill on the trails. Inevitably, there had been smarties in the herds who
didn't beg for "nummies", but demanded them, and attempted to projectile shit
on any human who refused them or laughed at them. It was after a few smarties
had been stomped and the local paper started publishing articles about the
situation, and the fact that the city's park department had begun to deploy
fluffy control measures like poisoned bait that the only thing worse for the
park than the fluffies themselves happened: FOPF.
An ugly acronym for an ugly thing, FOPF stood for Friends of the Overton Park
Fluffies. It was a Facebook group pretending to be a public interest
organization that was founded and run by various bleeding-hearts, mostly bored
trophy wives who had access to the private parks on the opposite side of the
city for their morning jogs, and ex- and neo-hippies from the local college,
the same sorts of assholes who had broken into Hasbio's labs and released the
fluffy creatures in the first place. One would have thought that the hippies
and the trophy wives wouldn't get along long enough to have any real impact;
after all, wouldn't the hippie vegans with their unshaven legs and armpits
eventually clash with the trophy wives, with their Botoxed faces and selfies of
their filet mignon dinners and their perfectly coiffed little dogs? But no, on
Facebook, the two groups had been able to play nice, and they had two important
things in common: they had a cause that gave them warm fuzzy feelings, and they
didn't have to deal with the fluffies in Overton Park. The university was on
the same side of the city as the ritzier neighborhoods, and neither of them had
to deal with an infestation of feral fluffies.
That's not to say that there were no fluffy control efforts there, of course.
There were, constantly, and they were often more brutal than the relatively
humane means the city had tried to apply in the park. Every day, the beds of
the pickup trucks of Hispanic grounds crews were filled with fluffies who had
obviously been stomped or smashed with a shovel in the course of the crew's
groundskeeping work. But the FOPF members didn't see this, and didn't want to
know about it: it was out of sight, out of mind. The fluffy control measures at
the public park, however, were in the newspaper, and were debated in city
council meetings. So FOPF found its cause. The university FOPF members
organized picket lines at city hall and "fluff-ins" where they'd coach feral
fluffies to beg the city council to spare their "widdwe babbehs" in front of
the local news crews' cameras. The trophy wives threatened the mayor and his
loyalists with their husbands. Like all small cities, the lines between local
businesses, community organizations, and city government were blurred, and
their relationships incestuous. The mayor couldn't afford to lose the support
of the head of the Chamber of Commerce, or the local Masons, so in short order,
and with a unanimous vote, the city council had passed the "Overton Park Fluffy
Relief Ordinance," which prohibited the city parks department from removing or
killing the fluffies, and levied fines on any citizen who did so. The one sop
in the bill was a small amount of money that allowed the purchase and placement
of fencing between the forested parts of the park and the most popular parts,
like the swimming pool. The fence had gone up--it was one of those ugly, orange
plastic fences that came in a big roll--and while it mostly kept the fluffies
from drowning in the pool and shitting all over the tennis courts, the
creatures continued to ruin the rest of the park, running across biking trails,
eroding hillsides with their overgrazing, and pushing out the native wildlife
with their ravenous appetites and genetically-enhanced fecundity. The fluffies
had few predators in the park because, ironically, FOPF didn't object to the
work the parks department did to keep predators out. Except for a few owls, who
had grown fat on fluffies, and the occasional coyote who wandered over from the
state park, the fluffies had no natural enemies in the park, and they quickly
became a threat to the ecosystem.
That's what brought Sadie Neumann to the park. She sat in her beat-up Honda in
the parking lot, enjoying the warmth of the late-afternoon sun shining in her
windshield. It was October, and the days were already starting to get crisp.
Sadie had the right kind of look for the work she had planned for the evening;
unlike the testosterone and angst filled teenage boys who occasionally stalked
through the park with baseball bats and golf clubs, slaughtering fluffies and,
more often than not, recording their antics on Snapchat, Sadie almost looked
like one of the hippies from FOPF. She wasn't ugly, but she had never been
accused of beauty, either. On a good day, she might be considered cute, but she
didn't care enough to wear much makeup, and she preferred jeans, hiking boots,
and fleece vests to skirts and heels. Unlike the literary theory and women's
studies majors in the hippie wing of FOPF, Sadie had been an ecology major in
college, and had wanted to be an ecologist for the EPA before getting stuck in
a dead-end job in a local pathology lab, preparing tissue samples and disposing
of biowaste. She had grown up not far from Overton Park, and had fond childhood
memories of walking the forest trails with her father. He had always enjoyed
her delight in the park's wildlife. But Sadie had grown up, and a great deal
had changed. Her father had died of heart failure shortly after retirement, and
the park they used to enjoy together was overrun by shitrats. Sadie couldn't
bring her father back, but she was determined to do her part to help the park
they both loved. She grabbed her satchel and walking stick, locked her car
door, and started for the trailhead that would take her deep into the park's
As she passed the swimming pool--now closed for the season--and the play areas,
she noted sadly that there were many fewer people in the park than there would
have been on a nice autumn afternoon before the fluffies came. While the cheap
fencing mostly kept the shitrats from drowning in the pool, or shitting on the
children on the playground who refused to give them "sketties", few park
patrons enjoyed listening to the fluffies who came up to the fence demanding
nummies or begging to be adopted. There was nobody on the trail that Sadie was
walking upon as she entered the forest proper. It was still an hour or so until
sunset, but the tall trees created a kind of twilight, even in the afternoon.
Sadie heard snatches of of fluffy conversation and saw evidence of
fluffies--bits of brightly-colored fluff caught in bushes, and piles of fluffy
shit--but continued into the forest. She knew from talking to the parks
department that there was an average of 20 fluffies per acre in the park at
this time of year, and given its size, that meant thousands of fluffies in
total. Winter would reduce their numbers drastically, but some always survived,
and fluffies refused to stop breeding, no matter the season. They would begin
producing viable litters again as soon as the days were consistently above
Sadie walked several minutes more, until she was deep into the forest, perhaps
nearly to the state park. She paused and heard fluffies babbling in every
direction. She had almost resolved to pick a direction at random and go off the
trail when she heard, quite close, a fluffy yelling, "Nu! Bestest nummies am
fo' bestest smawty!"
What luck, Sadie though wryly. A smarty. She tightened her grip on her walking
stick and walked in the direction of the yelling. Just a few feet off the
trail, behind a gnarled pine, she found the source of the yelling. A deep blue
fluffy with a nasty expression on its face was standing guard over a spit of
wild blueberries growing from the forest floor. Arrayed across from him were
another stallion, this one a lime green earth fluffy, and a pink unicorn mare
with several foals on her back. The stallion was explaining, deferentially,
that the smarty had already had some of the "nummies", and that his "speciaw
fwiend" needed some, too, in order to "make bestest miwkies fo' bestest
babbehs." The smarty looked as though he was ready to retort, when he noticed
Sadie, and immediately came over to her. He approached much closer than she
liked, close enough that he had to crane his neck in an uncomfortable-looking
fashion in order to look at her, and demanded, "Dummeh hoomin gib nummies to
smawty nao! Dummeh hoomin gib sketties or get wowstest sowwy poopies!"
Sadie sighed. So it begins. She smiled sweetly at the smarty, and said, "No,
you piece of fucking garbage. No nummies for you!"
Outraged, the smarty whipped around and pointed its ass at her. As he lifted
his tail, Sadie stepped well clear of what she knew was coming and, sure
enough, the smarty promptly released a slurry of manure from his ass with
significant force. The smarty turned, his expression smug, until he saw that
his noxious bioweapon had fallen harmlessly on the forest floor. His expression
turned to one of confusion, and he began looking around for Sadie, saying "Weww
am..." Sadie readied her walking stick, holding it like a spear, and when the
smarty was facing her again, she plunged the tip of the stick into the smarty's
left eye, driving his face into the dirt.
"SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!" The smarty screamed in agony. "See pwace! See
pwace! S-s-SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Sadie ground the stick into the smarty's eye,
twisting it in a clockwise direction. Amusingly, the smarty screamed louder as
she did so, and she reflected that it was almost like turning a volume knob.
She yanked the walking stick from the smarty's eye socket and adjusted her grip
so she was holding it like a pool cue in a bar fight. As much as she enjoyed
the idea of prolonging the smarty's suffering, she had more fluffy hunting to
do, and she didn't want the smarty's screams to spook the rest of his herd,
which she assumed wasn't too far away. She swung the sturdy stick over her head
in a sweeping arc, and brought it down on the smarty's head, hard enough to
make a solid CRACK sound, collapsing the fluffy's skull. The creature crumpled
to the ground, and blood sputtered from its ruined eye socket. Sadie turned to
the remaining fluffies, who were staring at the smarty with whom they'd been
arguing. They looked at Sadie with wide eyes, too terrified even to flee, as
she approached them. Sadie grabbed one of the foals, a little orange former
pegasus--its wings had been ripped or chewed off--from the mare's back. It
struggled futilely and peeped its little heart out, as the mare squeaked,
"P-pwease stickie munstah wady, chiwpie babbeh am too smaww fo' upsies."
Wordlessly, Sadie used the foal to wipe the worst of the gore off of the tip of
her stick, then placed the now-filthy foal back on its mother's back.
"I want you to take me to the rest of your herd," she said flatly.
The fluffies looked at each other worriedly, and the mare began to blubber.
This time the stallion spoke up. "Fwuffy am sowwy munstah wady, but smawty am
say to neba teww hoomins wewe hewd hab nesties."
"That is smart," Sadie conceded. "But I'm going to find out one way or another,
and," she paused to reach down and pluck a pink unicorn foal from the mare's
back, "if you don't take me there, I'm going to crush all of your 'babbehs',
starting with this one." She figured the pink one was probably the mare's
"bestest babbeh". They always loved the ones who had their own coloration more
than their other foals.
The mare stopped her blubbering long enough to confirm Sadie's suspicions. "Nu
huwt bestest babbeh! Bestest babbeh am too..."
"Yes, yes," Sadie cut her off. "Too 'widdwe fo' upsies'. Well, it's not too
little for crushies, and if you don't take me to your herd right away, well."
Sadie grasped the foal's right foreleg in between her thumb and index finger.
She squeezed, and with a firm twist, she pulled the leg out of the foal's
shoulder socket. She felt the ligaments and muscle tearing, and as the foal
belted out a high-pitched squeal, she released the limb, which flopped
uselessly at the foal's side.
The mare screeched, "Nuuuuuuuu! Bestest babbeh!" and resumed her blubbering.
Sadie, keeping a firm grip on the foal, kicked the mare. "C'mon, let's go," she
Terror filled the fluffies' eyes, and with miserable expressions, they turned
and began walking deeper into the forest. Sadie followed, and after they had
gone about 50 yards, she heard myriad voices babbling in the fluffies' demented
argot. They were close. Sadie held the small pink foal--who was still peeping
miserably--behind her back, and quickly squeezed the life out of it. When she
was sure the mare hadn't noticed that her foal had stopped peeping, she flung
the corpse to her side, and walked on after the fluffies. After another 10
yards or so, Sadie and her escorts emerged into a tiny clearing. More than a
dozen adult fluffies were congregating around an overturned aluminum boat that
had settled into the leaf litter in the middle of the clearing. They had only a
few foals with them, though, which Sadie found odd at this time of year. The
fluffies noticed that the human was with two of their herdmates, but didn't
notice the fluffies' miserable expressions. The herd's cries of "Be nyu
mummah?" and "Hoomin hab nummies fo' hewd?" drowned out the two traumatized
fluffies' whispered warnings about the "stickie munstah wady" who had followed
them into the herd's camp.
Sadie quickly assessed the situation, ignoring the fluffies' begging. It was
getting dim in the forest; sunset was approaching, and she wanted to pick her
first targets carefully in case the fluffies scattered in terror when the
slaughter began. Chasing shitrats around a dark forest was a great way to fall
and get injured, or lose an eye to a low tree branch. Three of the
brightly-colored creatures hadn't approached her with the rest, all mares so
pregnant that they wouldn't be able to move their stumpy legs and fat bodies
very quickly, if at all. She would worry about those last. The rest of the
fluffies--mostly mares--all looked much the same. Sadie decided to focus on her
two escorts, as they would likely get over their shock first, as they had
already seen her deal with the smarty. They were also growing more agitated,
trying to warn their babbling herdmates about the danger they were in.
Sadie raised her walking stick over her head and quickly hit the mare escorting
her in the middle of the back with great force, pulping one of the foals still
clinging to her back and sending the others flying. The mare collapsed, and
Sadie felt the shock of the force with which she'd hit the mare humming through
the stick. As the mare's underside was driven into the ground, she began
projecting liquid from both ends, shit from her rear and what looked like
bloody bile and partly-digested food from her mouth. The mare was too wounded
to scream, but her stallion companion realized instantly what was happening and
began to run away from Sadie as the rest of the herd stood in shock.
Sadie took a long stride and closed the distance between her and the slowly
fleeing stallion. She squared up like a designated hitter at bat and swung the
stick as hard as she could at the stallion's backside. The stick connected
solidly with his balls, and the stallion tumbled ass over head, letting out a
"SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" as he tumbled and lost bowel control. He came to rest
after a full flip, and Sadie could see that her blow had torn open the
stallion's scrotum and obliterated at least one of his testicles. As the
stallion continued his screaming, the rest of the herd tried to scatter in all
directions with cries of "Wun away!" and "Nyu mummah am stickie munstah!
Unfortunately for them, they were too slow. Sadie came down upon the
still-clustered fluffies like a hurricane, swinging her stick at those who had
fled first, breaking their legs or cracking their skulls, and stomping the ones
who were slow to run. That was an unpleasant task, as the fluffies she stomped
were covered in the "scawdie poopies" of the ones who had turned to flee. As
she beat and stomped the fluffies, she was surrounded by screams, screes, and
begging. About half a dozen of the fluffies had gotten out of the reach of her
stick and were fleeing the camp, mostly hiding behind trees just beyond and
edge of the clearing. Most of the fluffies who she had managed to hit were
still alive, but weren't going anywhere soon, and were either huuhuuing,
screeing in agony, or had been reduced to chirps and peeps, or silence in the
case of a head injury.
Sadie turned her attention to the the three pregnant mares, whose attempts to
flee were thwarted by their rotund little bodies. Every time they managed to
get their feet under them, their legs trembled and collapsed, leading them to
huuhuu about how their continued collapsing was "bad fo' tummeh babbehs," but
they had to "wun away fwom stickie munstah wady."
Indeed, Sadie thought, you should. She went over to the first of the mares,
who, in her fear, added to the growing pile of feces stacked up behind her.
"Who's the daddy of your babies?" Sadie asked.
The mare sniffled. "Smawty am speciaw fwiend, gib fwuffy speciaw huggies and
tummeh babbehs. Pwease nu huwt fwuffy and babbehs!"
Sadie nodded. "I killed him, you know."
The mare's eyes grew wide. "Nuuuuuuuuuuuu! Babbehs need daddeh to bwing nummies
to mummah fo' make bestest miwkies!"
"Well, that's not going to happen. I hit him in the head," Sadie indicated her
walking stick, "after I took his eye with my stick."
The mare broke down into sobbing, which made the two other pregnant mares move
from horror to huuhuuing. Soon all three were making noise. Sadie had no desire
to hear this chorus of idiot mares huuhuuing, so she rolled the first mare over
onto her back with her foot, which she then placed firmly on the mare's belly.
"NUUUUUUUUUUUUU!" the mare screamed. "Pwease nu huwt babbehs! Hoomin hoofsie on
tummeh am bad fo' babbehs!"
Sadie said nothing, but began to lean forward, putting her weight behind the
foot on the mare's stomach. The fluffy's protestations became a series of
"SCREEEEEEEEEEE!"s as Sadie began pumping her foot on the mare's uterus like a
bicycle tire pump. As the mare's screaming reached a painful pitch, Sadie
ground her heel into the mare, whose vagina tore as a quantity of gore followed
by four gooey, colorful foals popped out of her snatch. They were premature,
but just barely. Eyes closed, they made strained, quiet chirps.
The mare pinned beneath Sadie's foot widened her eyes in a moment of joy that
broke through the agony of her ruined reproductive tract and the human's foot
on her guts. "B-babbehs!?" she asked.
Sadie smiled. "Yep!" she said. She grabbed a foal in each hand, held the slimy,
chirping creatures in front of their mother's face, and crushed them
simultaneously. The mare stared at her in horrified disbelief before an
incoherent squeal tore from her throat, her legs wiggling in desperation as she
tried to right herself. Sadie picked up the two remaining foals and, again,
crushed them in front of their mother's eyes, before stomping the mare's head
with her heavy boots.
The other two pregnant mares, witness to the infanticide and slaughter of their
companion, intensified their huuhuuing. "P-pwease m-munstah wady, nu take
babbehs! Pwease?" pleaded the mare closest to the woman.
Sadie said nothing, but repeated the procedure she had performed on the first
mare on the other two: abortion, followed by foal crushing, and, finally,
"mummah" stomping. She didn't glory in the deaths of the foals, exactly--though
it was excellent stress relief after a tedious week at the pathology lab--but
that was twelve fewer shitrats, plus their mothers, who would be competing with
the squirrels and raccoons and birds of the forest.
Sadie went back to the wounded fluffies she had left in order to deal with the
pregnant mares, dragging with her by his mane the neutered stallion who had
escorted her to the camp.
"Why am meanie hoomin take fwuffy speciaw wumps, huuuuuuuuu?! Fwuffy hab
wowstest huwties and nu can hab mowe babbehs."
Sadie tossed the stallion onto the ground near the other wounded and dying
fluffies and said, "Actually, I only took one of your balls. It's a mess down
there, but I think one of your nuts is still intact. But I'll take care of that
now." She approached the stallion, who began to drag himself away from her in a
panic, screaming as the ruins of his scrotum scraped across the ground. Before
he could struggle to his hooves, Sadie took the toe of her shoe and placed it
on top of the stallion's remaining testicle and crushed it against the ground.
"SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!" the stallion screamed as his remaining nut
popped and oozed out from under the tip of Sadie's shoe. Sadie thought she
heard an element of anguish in the fluffy's scream that went beyond the
physical pain: now he knew he would never be able to reproduce again.
She briefly contemplated ending the stallion right there, but if he didn't
succumb to his injuries, he was, at least, less of a threat to the ecosystem if
he couldn't reproduce. Sadie grabbed the stallion firmly by the mane and flung
him deeper into the woods, chuckling at the fading "EEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeee!" as
he disappeared in the gloom.
Sadie turned her attention to the wounded fluffies. A couple had died while she
was handling the preggo mares and the stallion, but five were still in various
states of injury. One had been paralyzed by a blow to the spine, and was
futilely trying to drag the deadened portion of her body around with her front
hooves, which scraped uselessly against the forest floor. A dirty white mare
dragging two broken legs--one oozing blood from a compound fracture--had almost
made it to the trees where Sadie thought some of the fluffies were hiding.
Sadie walked quickly over to her and picked her up by the mane.
"NUUUUUUUUUUUU!" the mare screamed. "Pwease wet fwuffy go! Fwuffy am gud
Sadie carried her back over to the group of wounded. She grasped one of the
mare's forelegs and looked the creature in the eyes before saying, "There's no
such thing as a good fluffy." Sadie quickly snapped the mare's foreleg, causing
the creature to scream and find some new reserve of diarrhea, which she emptied
onto a wounded fluffy beneath her.
Sadie dropped the white mare onto her own shit and the fluffy beneath it. None
of the remaining wounded were trying to escape, and all had stopped screaming,
either having succumbed to shock, or screamed themselves into hoarseness. In
the relative quiet, a sound that had been nagging at Sadie's ears became more
apparent: a chorus of muffled chirps and fluffy whispering. At first, Sadie
thought the sounds of the darkening woods were playing tricks on her ears, but
then she heard a whispered exhortation that was more clear. A muffled voice
whispered, "Pwease babbehs, be vewy quiet, and mebbe scawy munstah wady go
Muffled though the sounds were, they were clearly coming from the overturned
boat around which the herd was congregated when Sadie came into the camp. She
took her walking stick and struck the aluminum boat hard, and was greeted by a
dull ringing, terrified chirping, and an adult fluffy screeching
Sadie walked around the boat until she found was she was looking for: an
indentation in the soil near the edge, just big enough for an adult mare,
unless she was pregnant. Sadie crouched by the entrance, grasped the rim of the
overturned boat, and lifted it up from the forest floor.
In retrospect, she couldn't remember what struck her first, or more: the sight,
or the stench that greeted her. Hiding underneath the boat were more fluffy
foals than she could count. It had to have been at least fifty. They were
filthy, their fluff matted with shit . They were crawling over each other like
a swarm of rats, probably trying to get on top of the pile so they weren't
stuck in the shit. Some smaller, unmoving foals had obviously suffocated in the
shit. There was only one adult fluffy under the boat, nursing two foals, a
dozen others vying for the mare's crotchtits. As she locked eyes with Sadie,
she struggled to her hooves, flinging the nursing foals away, and screeched
"Wun away!" A couple of the older foals understood her and began to run toward
her. The mare had almost gotten out from under the shadow of the boat when
Sadie stepped back and quickly dropped it, crushing the mare's hindquarters.
None of the foals had had time to escape.
"SCREEEEEEEEE!" the mare screamed. One of her legs had collapsed behind her and
was under the boat, but the other had been caught mid-stride, and was jutting
out from the edge of the boat and away from the mare's body at an awkward
angle. A sliver of bloody bone protruded from it. As Sadie approached the mare,
she interrupted her screams with the *haf haf haf* breathing that fluffies in
terror or agony often adopted.
Sadie knelt by her. "I was wondering where all of the foals were!"
The fluffy moaned miserably and began to scream again. Sadie struck her across
the face several times, until she stopped screaming and stared up at Sadie in
"Why were are you keeping the foals in there? It's filthy. Half of them would
have died in the next few days."
"Huuuuu, babbehs wewe gettin' nummed by scawy maskie munstahs wif stwipie
taiws, huuu. Hab to sabe babbehs."
Ah, raccoons. A fluffy foal would make a nice meal for one.
"Well," Sadie said. "Having them all in one place certainly makes my job
easier." She paused for a moment before settling on a plan of action. She
didn't want to lift the boat again and risk another escape attempt. Indeed, a
handful of foals had found the dugout entrance and were trying to scramble to
freedom. Sadie looked around quickly and spotted a rock that was about the
right size. She hefted the rock over to the dugout entrance and dropped it,
blocking the hole and crushing the would-be escapees.
As the trapped mare continued her crying, Sadie gathered tinder and fallen wood
from the edges of the clearing. She built four small "tepees" out of the dry
wood along the edges and on opposite sides of the boat, filling each tepee with
a generous helping of tinder. Sadie was filled with nostalgia for a moment, as
she remembered camping with her dad in the neighboring state forest and
building fires like this. She came up short on tinder for one of the tepees,
and walked over to the mare who had escorted her to the camp who was,
remarkably, still alive. Her back was broken, however, and she couldn't move.
She looked up at Sadie with fear-filled eyes as the woman grabbed her mane with
one hand, steadied her broken body with the other, and began yanking handfuls
of fluff from her body. Sadie expected a scree at this point, but the mare was
apparently nonvocal. Her eyes filled with tears and telegraphed the intense
pain she was experiencing, however, and a slow stream of piss and shit oozed
from the creature. Sadie took the handfuls of fluff, filled the last tepee, and
began lighting the fires. She had plenty of dry wood in two piles on either of
the long sides of the boat, so as the fires got going, she could feed them
enough to get the boat nice and hot. The sun had set, and dusk was draped over
the shadowy forest, so the light was nice, too.
One of the fires was only about a foot from the trapped mare. As the flames
grew, it would have been hot at that distance anyway, but the flames caressed
the side of the boat and began heating the metal.
"Hawt! Hawt! Huuu, scawy buwnies am huwt fwuffy!"
The creature appeared to forget about the pain of her crushed hindquarters and
broken leg as the heat grew in intensity. The mare's eyes watered from the
smoke, then began to dry out. Sadie walked around the boat, feeding each of the
fires with dry branches, keeping them growing steadily. She was feeding one of
the fires on the opposite side of the boat when the crushed mare began to
scream again. Sadie walked around the boat and saw that the fluffy was writhing
in flames. It appeared that an errant spark had popped off of the crackling
fire and ignited her fluff. Her fluff burned away quite quickly, and with
nothing left to burn, the flames abated, leaving a blackened, smoking mare
behind. As regular as a pendulum, the scorched fluffy reared backward and
unleashed a hoarse SCREEEEEE! every few seconds. Her body would relax, she'd
draw breath, then rear back and scream again, the same agonized sound every
time. Sadie was tempted to whack the mare with her stick, partially to end the
mare's suffering, but mostly to stop the screaming, but she was too fascinated
by the clockwork screeing. It went on for several minutes, until, after a final
scream, the mare had no more strength. Her teeth were visible in a kind of
demented permanent grin, as her lips had curled as she burned, and her eyes
rolled back and forth in their sockets. Sadie wanted to turn her attention to
the foals baking in the boat, so she ended the mare with a crushing blow to the
The flames from the four fires licked the sides of the boat, which were now too
hot to touch. Sounds of frantic activity echoed against the metal as the air
under the boat became hot and stifling. Terrified peeping, and complaints from
"tawkie babbehs" about "scawy hawt dawkies" and "wowstest buwnie huwties" were
punctuated by screams from foals who had, presumably, been pressed against the
scalding sides of the boat by their scuttling companions. When the sounds of
fear and pain from under the boat became quite loud, the trap was set, and
Sadie fed the fires one last time before retreating into the darkness just
beyond the radius of their light. It was fully dark in the forest now, and
Sadie was able to blend in to the darkness. She closed her eyes and faced away
from the fires, letting her night vision return, then she circled quietly
around the camp so that she was behind and just to the side of where she
thought the fluffies who had fled were hiding. She knelt by a tree and waited.
Fluffies are not known for their patience, and less than two minutes after
Sadie had disappeared, the fluffies who had escaped the initial massacre--two
stallions and four mares--reëntered the camp. The two stallions, a red
pegasus, and a yellow earthie, went to check on the wounded adults, while the
mares shuffled fearfully around the fires at the boat, trying to will
themselves to approach.
Sadie was close enough that she could hear the conversation as the red stallion
approached the dirty white mare she had crippled. The stallion tried to hug the
mare, but this jostled her broken legs, and she let out a loud
"SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE!" before continuing her sobbing. The red stallion began to
sob as well, and said, "Huuuuuu, fwuffy am sowwy fwuffy nu can sabe speciaw
fwiend. Fwuffy twy to gib huggies, make evwyting bettah."
The mare replied, "D-dummeh fwuffy wun away, nu sabe speciaw fwiend. Fwuffy
hatechu! Dummeh huggies nu hewp, gib wowstest huwties!"
"Fwuffy am sowwy, speciaw fwiend," the stallion sobbed. "Fwuffy wiww neba wun
away again, wiww pwotect speciaw fwiend fow aww fowebas!" He suddenly put on a
determined expression and, convinced that the "meanie stickie wady" was gone,
stomped, puffed out his cheeks, and said, "If meanie stickie wady eba come
back, fwuffy gib wady wowstest stompies an' foweba sweepies!"
Sadie had been hoping to let the drama unfold further, but she couldn't let
this prompt pass. She crept to the edge of the firelight, then leapt toward the
stallion and his crippled mare, putting on the scariest face she could muster,
and screaming "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!"
The red stallion stumbled over his own stumpy legs in terror and fell to the
ground, but scrambled to his hooves and immediately began to run away from the
terrifying human. As he fled, he unleashed a massive stream of "scawdie
poopies" on his "speciaw fwiend", covering her and her wounds in shit. Sadie
jumped over the mare and landed right behind the fleeing stallion. She swept
him off his hooves with her foot, then quickly beat his legs with her stick
until they were a crooked mess. She gave the yellow stallion the same
treatment, then chased after the mares who, recovering from their surprise, had
begun to flee back into the woods. Unfortunately for the slow mares, they were
still well in the firelight, and Sadie caught up to them quickly. She dropped
her stick and grabbed two of the mares by their manes. One was a dark purple
pegasus, dewinged like the foal Sadie had seen earlier, and the other was a
lime green unicorn. Sadie began smashing the mares together, head first, until
they both went limp and stopped screeing. The unicorn's horn had gouged out one
of the pegasus's eyes. Sadie tossed the mares back toward the group of wounded
and dying fluffies, and went after the last two.
The slower mare was unlucky: Sadie had a plan for the last fluffy standing, and
she wasn't it. Sadie raised her foot and stomped squarely on the mare's back.
The mare spewed shit and blood from both ends, and Sadie felt the creature's
spine break. The woman left the mashed fluffy and took a couple of swift steps
to catch the last mare, who she yanked up to eye level by her mane.
"EEEEEEEE!" the mare screeched, "pwease nu gib huwties an' foweba sweepies,
Sadie smiled at the mare. "Well, I'm not going to kill you, anyway. You're the
lucky one. You're the winner."
"Winnah?" the mare said, confusion momentarily overtaking her terror.
"Yes," Sadie replied. "You get to live."
She began carrying the mare back to the camp as the creature clapped her hooves
together in happiness, having apparently forgotten the horror she had just
witnessed upon being declared the "winnah." As they came around a clump of
bushes and the camp was visible again, however, the mare began to huuhuu.
Sadie kept her grip on the winner as she surveyed the dead and dying fluffies.
Those who were still alive were crippled, or likely brain damaged, like the
mares she had smashed together, who were writhing on the ground in a kind of
disjointed dance. Sadie made quick work of the survivors, stomping their heads
with her heavy boots, while the mare she carried huuhuued about "Why gib gud
fwuffies wowstest stompies?"
Sadie shook the mare painfully by her mane and repeated what she had told the
other mare earlier: "There are no good fluffies." The mare in her grasp went
limp and cried silently after Sadie said that.
The desperate chirps and peeps from the boat had mostly subsided. Sadie figured
that the older, stronger foals had mostly shoved the younger ones to the edges
of the pile, and that they had died first. She could still hear the foals who
could talk alternately crying for "mummah" and accusing their moms of being
"bad mummahs" for abandoning them to the "buwnie dawkies."
Sadie set the mare down. "Fetch me a stick," she ordered. The mare looked
uncertainly at Sadie, then waddled toward a tree, beneath which were some small
sticks. Sadie could tell that the mare was contemplating whether to make
another run for it. The fluffy looked over her shoulder at the human, who was
looking back at her. Sadie saw the fluffy slump slightly as she resigned
herself to dependence on the human's mercy. She took a stick in her mouth and
brought it back to Sadie.
"More, and slightly bigger," Sadie said as the mare dropped the stick at her
feet. The woman supervised the fluffy as she fetched a small pile of sticks.
Sadie moved the rock she had used to block the dugout to the overturned boat.
Immediately, a foal inside the boat cried, "Bwite pwace!," and a moment later,
a little red foal poked its head out from underneath the rim of the boat. Sadie
took one of the sticks the mare had fetched her and jabbed it into the foal's
eye. "SCREEEEEEE!" It began to *haf haf haf*. "Wowstest see-pwace huwties!" The
foal fell into the bottom of the dugout with the squished foals Sadie had
smashed with the rock earlier. The woman quickly piled the sticks the mare had
fetched into the dugout. She retrieved a brand from one of the fires on her
side of the boat, and thrust it into the pile of sticks in the dugout. As the
sticks began to burn, the little red foal, half blind, but still alive,
squeaked, "Pwease nu buwn babbeh! Babbeh am onwy widdwe babbeh!" Sadie pushed
the burning brand through a layer of sticks, driving it into the foal's fluff,
which caught fire immediately.
"SCREEEEEEEEEEE! Buwnie huwties, buwnie--" the foal's speech became
unintelligible as it began to scream.
Sadie looked at the mare, who was sobbing, to ensure that she wasn't about to
bolt again, then checked on the fire. It was burning and smoking quite nicely:
any foals in the boat who remained would soon die of smoke inhalation. She
almost gagged as she contemplated what it must smell like in there. A
combination of burnt foal and baked fluffy shit, she guessed. Disgusting.
Sadie patted the mare. "Cheer up, fluffy. Like I said, you're the winner. You
get to live."
The mare stopped sobbing long enough to ask, "Why am fwuffy nu take foweba
sweepies when meanie wady am gib aww hewd foweba sweepies?"
"Because I want you to take a message to all of the other fluffies you meet in
this forest," Sadie said.
"Wat am message?" the mare asked.
"I want you to tell something to the other fluffies. I want you to tell them
this: That before the cold times come, I will be coming for them. I will crush
their smarties and stomp their 'soon mummahs' and burn their foals. If they
don't want that to happen, they need to leave this park, right away. Because if
I see them, I will kill them all. Now repeat it."
The mare had to be coached a few times, and Sadie had to smack her to keep her
from blubbering, but finally the creature got it mostly right.
"Fwuffy am to teww fwuffies dat meanie stickie munstah wady am come befowe cowd
times to gib wowstest stompies an' buwnies to smawties and daddehs and mummahs
and soon mummahs and babbehs. An' dat if fwuffies nu wan foweba sweepies,
fwuffies must weabe pawk! Huuuuuuuu!"
"Close enough," Sadie said. "You think you can remember that?"
"Fwuffy wememba," the mare said miserably. "B-but--"
"Wewe am fwuffies gon' go?"
"To the other forest," Sadie replied. "The one closer to the mountain, and over
The mare was shocked, "But dat fowest am cowd, an' fuww of scawy munstahs dat
num babbehs an' num aww fwuffies!"
Sadie put her face very close to the mare, and said, "This forest has a scary
monster, too!" She pointed to herself. "Now, there's just one more thing we
need to do before I let you go. Turn around."
The mare turned around, but looked back at Sadie in terror.
"Look forward," Sadie said. The mare complied, but her whole body was
trembling. Sadie took the burning brand from out of the fire again, and aimed
it at the mare's genitals, pressing the creature firmly against the ground with
her other hand. The fluffy could feel the heat from the brand, and began to
*haf* and squirm. When she was certain her aim would be true, Sadie quickly
shoved the brand deeply into the mare's vagina.
"SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" the fluffy screamed and began to buck. Sadie held
the mare down harder and pressed the burning tip of the stick against the
mare's cervix. She withdrew the stick from the mare's vagina, and reheated it
in the fire, before reinserting it. She wasn't sure how well it would work, but
she wanted to scar the fluffy's vagina and, especially, her cervix badly enough
that she wouldn't be able to breed again. When the stick had cooled again,
Sadie removed it from the mare's vagina. When the creature's screams melted
into huuhuus and finally into moans, she managed to ask, "Why am meanie munstah
wady gib fwuffy wowstest speciaw pwace buwnie huwties?"
Sadie was tempted to tell her, but didn't want to risk sending her messenger
into a suicidal depression. Fluffies lived to shit out foals and eat, and
deprived of either activity, they sometimes lost the will to live.
"Because I'm a 'meanie munstah', like you said," Sadie said finally. That would
have to do.
Sadie left the mare to huuhuu and made a last sweep around the camp. The fire
in the dugout had mostly died down, and Sadie heard no more sound from the
inside of the boat. She replaced the rock in the dugout, blocking any future
herds from using the boat as a shelter.
The fires were dying out, and Sadie put on her LED headlamp and turned it on.
When Sadie wasn't shining the headlamp on the mare, the creature stopped crying
about her injuries to cry instead about "Scawy dawkies."
"It gets dark every night," Sadie said. "Are you scared of the dark every
The mare nodded. "Dawkies am foweba scawy, but fwuffies hab fwuffpiwe in dawk
timie, and dawkies am nu so scawy." She cried a low, drawn out huuhuu. "But
hewd am take foweba sweepies, an' dawkie timies am wowstest scawy!"
Sadie didn't have much pity for the creature, but she didn't want her messenger
to get eaten in the night, and Sadie had no desire to stick around and babysit.
It occurred to her that surrounding the mare with easy meat might not be a bad
idea. She tossed several of the dead fluffies in the mare's direction, then
carried over two more, and arranged them in a pile around the mare, leaving
only her head sticking out.
"There you go," Sadie said, "fluffpile. If any 'munstahs' come in the night,
just let them eat your friends here, and stay very, very quiet."
The mare sniffled. "Tank you, meanie munstah wady," she said, before resuming
Sadie kicked dirt over the remaining embers of the fires. The forest was deep
black now, except for the light from the woman's headlamp. Sadie told the
fluffy to wait until morning, then go take her message to the rest of her kind.
As she left the camp for the trail, the sounds of the forest took over, and she
could no longer hear the mare's moaning. When Sadie found the trail again, she
wasted no time in heading for the park proper and her car. She was glad she had
her walking stick. She wouldn't likely run into anyone, and violent crime was
rare in the park, but with the evening's fluffy control behind her, she was
suddenly keenly aware of being a woman, alone, at night.
Fortunately, she reached her car without seeing anyone, and quickly got in and
locked the door. She wanted nothing more than a shower, to wash fluffy blood,
gore, and shit off of her, and a hot cup of coffee. She turned the key in the
ignition, and she closed her eyes as the glow of the dash instruments lit her
face. She took a deep breath. If she was going to make a difference in Overton
Park, this would be only the first night of many. The cold always took
significant numbers of the fluffies. If she could terrorize some of the
fluffies into leaving the park for the state forest, where they would be
tempting prey, the population would be smaller yet. If she could eliminate a
herd every couple of nights, she might begin to make a real dent in the park's
pest problem. She thought of her father, and smiled, knowing he would be proud
of her. It had been a good night.