author:cortisone blood_rage death explicit fluffy_fight genitalia_chewing gore haircut pit_arena smarty training veteran_fluffy_combatant


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Buzz’s hooves were a blind of fluffy light as he charged into his opponent. Completely taken aback by Buzz’s speed, the newcomer was thrown to the ground at impact, gasping for air while Buzz spent his time moving fluidly from one motion to another.

He took several steps back to garner another charge, and Buzz once again launched at his opponent, galloping and angling his hooves to land on the other fluffy’s legs.

Upon impact, Buzz’s hardened soles crunched through the street fluffy’s bone, turning them into a mush of proteins and calcium.

His opponent screamed in agony, eyes bulging out of his skull, his hind legs now worthless. Buzz waited for the fluffy to start dragging his body around with his forepaws before he waddled in the general direction of the unfortunate soul.

Knowing that his only route towards freedom lead through Buzz, the only other fluffy in the pit, he turned, dragging his bloody stubs on the coarse concrete floor, causing him to squeal like a pig. He put one hoof in front of the other, focusing on his family that had abandoned him on the streets not too long ago to give him strength to carry forward. Maybe, just maybe, if he made them proud, they would save him from this hell and love him once more.

Although he could end this here and now, Buzz was a veteran of the pit. He knew that he would get more sketties the longer the fight went and the more boo-boo juice he spilled. His owner, or trainer, as he told Buzz to call him, had drilled this into his head, and after his first fights, he had learned quickly what elicited cheers from the humans outside, only understanding that more meant better and better meant more sketties after the fight.

He allowed the other fluffy to get into hug-distance before he stomped his hoof, causing the fluffy to look up and stop in his tracks. Buzz stared down his opponent as the inner rage of the now deformed fluffy built. Lashing out with his teeth, the fluffy aimed to bite at Buzz, causing pain, damage, or at least rip some hair out. Something, anything to stay alive.

The attack missed completely, not even gracing Buzz’s fluff as, after all, Buzz was named after a the haircut his owner gave him before each fight.

Before he could realise his error, Buzz’s forehoove was grinding his muzzle into the floor, pressure increasing until an audible crack split it in two halves. A gurgled scream sounded from the floor as the fluffy’s splintered jaw and teeth pierced the fluffy’s tongue and pinned it to the floor.

Buzz hit the fluffy in the head once more, knocking him out with the sheer force behind the muscled hoof.

The fight, now clearly over, was followed by a sudden change from cheers to boos. Knowing full well what this meant, Buzz gave a forever sleepies stomp to the dome of the incapacitated fluffy that sent squirts of grey matter in several directions.

The cheers returned.


“Come on, give me another rep.One more.”

“Fwuffy nu wike dis, weggies sowe, nu can moob.”

“Push through it Buzz, don’t make me punish you for quitting on yourself.”

With a huff, Buzz struggled, but managed to lift the 20 pound weight with his forehooves a final time.

“Good, good. We’ll feed you, get you on cardio, sprints and then you’ll be done for the day Buzz.”

“Finawy. Fwuffy wan west.”

Buzz followed his trainer into the kitchen and waited patiently for him to give him his kibble. Trainer said that it was reinforced with “calcium”, “protein” and a bunch of other things that Buzz had heard but was not able to understand. At one point, he had tried, but he simply couldn’t wrap his mind around it. What he did understand, however, was that when he ate it, he won, and if he won, he got sketties.

The mass of fluffy muscle settled down and began to eat his kibble under the watchful eye of his trainer. It was tasteless, hard, disgusting stuff, but Buzz had once known what true hunger was. There was no way he was going back. He had always hated his mother for that. He hoped she was somewhere horrible, preferably in pain than dead.

After he finished, Buzz followed his trainer back to the gym, which in reality, was an office space that had been converted into a miniature gym for a miniature figure. Waddling over to the treadmill, Buzz jumped up onto the machine and waited for his trainer to press the start button. The man set the treadmill to 2.5 mph and Buzz was on his way.

He started at a mild trot and eventually a run as the speed increased to 3.5 mph. Any normal fluffy, housebroken or feral would have missed their footing at less than what Buzz had started at and bounced on the track until their fluff caught and they flew off the track. Buzz, however, had had a dedicated workout plan forcefully imposed upon him since he was taken as a foal. The man clicked the dial to 5 mph, the fluff’s unfluff like physical abilities allowing him to keep pace, even if only for a few seconds. Knowing the limit of his champ as opposed to regular fluffies, the man began to lower the speed back down to 3.5 mph to allow Buzz to catch his breath. Before he could get much back, the man began steadily increased the speed again.

Under all seriousness, no one should have taken fluffy fighting this seriously, but according to his owner, if he was going to fight, he might as well be a “pwo-fesh-in-all”.


The days came and went, seeming to take forever for Buzz. To his general confusion, the man had once told him that there were 24 hours in a day, 7 days in a week, and 52 weeks in a year. Buzz had tried to follow along as he had been told this was very important to his schedule, but once he got to 4, he didn’t have any more hooves to count with. He could remember very clearly being told that he was to go to the pit one day a week and he was to train for five days with one day of rest between matches.

His leggies always felt sore after 5 days, but after a single day of rest, he always felt 100 percent or better. He didn’t understand this, but his owner said something about fluffies being able to “recover” quickly. Buzz had long given up on trying to understand what any of this really meant, but it had a boiled down understanding that he would be fighting the next day if he didn’t have to workout. Today just happened to be the day after taking a break.

He was loaded up into a pet carrier of sorts and turned around so he couldn’t peer out the front. Unable to turn around effectively, Buzz gave up on trying to see where he was being taken and set himself down, looking like a big, light brown loaf of bread with a crusty, red-brown mane. A little more than a forever passed before he was awoken from his slumber and was unceremoniously dumped onto a metal table, a bright, white light burning itself into his eyes. He heard the click and buzz of a razor and felt all the fluff that he’d had grown over the past week fall off his body. A stiff bristle brush ran itself over his body and the table, scraping his skin yet leaving it generally free of any stray hairs.

Buzz was then nearly thrown back into his carrier and brought into a musty room that smelled of stale smoke and alcohol.

The Pit.

Buzz dropped to the floor as the door to his cage opened. Having experience with this kind of fall, Buzz extended his leggies and caught himself before his torso could hit the ground. The recoil hurt his knees, but he had experienced broken ribs before and knew temporary discomfort was better than constant pain.

Before him stood a pegasus fluffy. Larger than a normal fluffy, of course, as it had probably been fed well it’s entire life, and sure as hell full of itself.

”Dummeh nu-fwuff dummeh nu can tuch smawty! Smawty am bettah den ‘ou.”

Buzz knew that once both fluffies had hit the deck, then it was go time, but smarties were a whole different matter than your normal fluffy. Buzz couldn’t simply charge, lest he gore himself on the smarty’s horn. He waited for the smarty to make the first move.

“Dummeh am scawd ob smawty. Dummeh new dat smawty gun gibe dummeh foweba sweepies!”

Although he was talking big, Buzz could tell that he was inexperienced, at least in comparison to Buzz, by the way he held himself and the uncertainty he held in his step as the two circled each other.

“Ou make biggest tawkies. Cum show fwuffy wa’ ‘ou can do.”

Egged on by the audience surrounding the two combatants, the smarty’s cool broke and he charged, lowering his horn.

As the smarty neared, Buzz dropped to the ground and rolled onto his side, catching the smarty off guard.

Before he could retaliate and lower his horn further, the smarty’s momentum forced him into tripping over Buzz’s back. The smarty remained airborne for a second and then crashed into the deck. Unlike the fluffy from the previous week however, the smarty realized his current predicament and got to his feet just in time to avoid being smashed. He then began to run away from Buzz, fearing for his life.

Buzz easily began to overtake the fluffy and used his superior weight to tackle the smarty into the wall, knocking the air out of both combatants.

Quicker to come to, Buzz sent his fluffy paw down into the smarty’s rib cage. He felt a crack underneath his pad and the smarty gasped, reeling in pain and shouting. Buzz sent hoof after hoof into the side of the smarty, beating his side in as much as he could, but he just couldn’t seem to finish the job.

Panting due from effort, Buzz judgement lapsed as he took a breather.

The smarty quickly jumped onto his feet and aimed a slash of his horn at Buzz’s face.

Barely regaining his composure, Buzz tried to avoid the assault, but the horn tore through his left cheek and down to the shoulder, creating a tear down the side of his semi-visible skin. The crowd cheered as the smarty drew blood on a seemingly invincible fluffy champion.

“See? Smawty am bestest! Smawty hab dummeh boo-boo jewce on pointy bit! ‘Ou suu dummeh!”

Already angered by the smarty’s presence and his interference with Buzz’s alpha mentality in the ring, seeing the smarty boast with and about having Buzz’s blood on his horn enraged him even further. The wound, now already congealed with blood, seemed to fester with the hatred Buzz held for his opponent. Buzz would have loved to charge into this dumbass and end it right then and there, but the very edge of his discipline was barely containing the flood of emotion.

It was the same deal as the beginning of the fight, if he charged, he would be gored.

Taking a more balanced approach, Buzz slowly walked toward his opponent, whose bolstered confidence once again began to falter. Any other fluffy would have broken down at this kind of wound, even something lesser, and screamed about huggies and love. The smarty had seen it before, in fact, he had done it to other fluffies before. That’s why he had taken over his herd. Faced with something he had never faced before, a fluffy who just wouldn’t back down even after “worstest hurties”, he began to panic.

He began to hyperventilate, aggravating the mushy pulp that made up his left flank. Confidence falling completely, the coward turned and ran, heading straight forward into a wall. His horn cracked on impact, sending off a tiny set of sparks as the smarty’s tiny connection with “magical powers” broke. Falling on his left flank this time, the smarty yelled out in pain, clutching the stub of a horn he now had and crying in pain.

By the time Buzz had meandered over to his opponent, the smarty was a blubbering mess, asking that Buzz give him mercy, even promising to give Buzz the best mares in his herd. He tried anything, anything, to persuade Buzz not to kill him, but nothing worked. Buzz took one last step in the direction of the smarty and began to lay waste to the lower half of the smarty.

Buzz’s first strikes went right for the smarty’s no-no stick and special lumps. The smarty screamed and in fluffy fashion, loosed his bowls.

While the shit flew across the concrete floor, the smarty’s piss flew up and into Buzz’s face.

His entire field of view went red and Buzz went in for the kill, completely oblivious to his surroundings.

As the smarty screamed in agony, Buzz’s jaws clamped down on the smarty’s crotch and ripped off his no-no stick, special lumps, and a significant portion of crotch-flesh.

With the smarty’s genitals still in his mouth, Buzz launched several blows at the skull of the smarty, cracking his jaw and forcing the smarty to open his pie-hole. Buzz then spit the smarty’s genitalia into his own mouth and began to use one of his hooves to ram the conglomerate of half-chewed flesh down smarty’s throat. The smarty began to choke on the biomass and blood spilled down into his lungs, causing him to spazm.

The two fluffys locked eye contact a final time and the smarty looked up in open defiance to Buzz. This final act of insubordination completely severed Buzz from his self-restraint and he relentlessly packed his hooves into the soft underbelly of the fluffy, eventually liquefying his insides. Buzz only learned there were still humans around when he was pulled off the bloody pulp that had once been a fluffy. He tried to keep swinging, but his stubby little legs just couldn’t reach their target.

As Buzz ate his sketty for the night, he pretended that each meatball he chewed was the smarty’s flesh, aggressively chewing with the intention to cause as much harm as possible to the pre-dead lumps of cow meat.

While Buzz knew that his outburst would be punished tomorrow during his training regime, he didn’t care. It was his fight after all, he could do what he wanted.


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Cortisone: Been awhile since I last posted. Figured I would finish up something that I really liked the idea of doing. Mainly fluffies beating the shit out of other fluffies.
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Nuuu: Thanks for the upload.

Minor quibble: the smarty was described as a pegasus first.