Site_16 abuse author:deadweight cannibal cannibal_fluffs cannibalism explicit exterminator hasbio mercenary michigan micro-fluff micro-fluffies xibalba


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´╗┐Small Packages (A Head Games/Microaggressions Tale)

By Deadweight

Morning breaks over Grandale on a fine summer day, George Willis brews some coffee as he goes over his phone messages to see what's on the schedule for today. George runs Willis Pest Control and does well for himself in the local area, recently adding fluffy extermination to his repertoire. He sips the strong blend and retrieves a plate of raw beef strips from the fridge and heads for the garage, flipping on the lights.

“Rise and shine crew, it’s breakfast time!”

He is met by lots of squeaks as the large herd of micro’s pour out of their custom made habitat, George smiles as he walks over and kneels to lay the plate of beef in their pen. They swarm over the plate and rip into it with sharp little teeth, a blue and white mare hugs on George’s hand and he pets her head with his thumb.

“Morning, Circe. Get some food before they gobble it all up.”

She rushes off to get her share, George encountered Circe and the micro’s about a year ago while on a job. The lab raised swarm were all cannibals and he has made them part of his business and family now, since they breed fast and grow quickly they currently number 326. It’s like watching fuzzy piranhas as they rip and scissor into the beef, stripping the plate bare in under ten minutes. After they finish, George opens the little door at the back of their habitat to let them outside to do their business. They have been very good hunters on the job this past year, taking out squirrel infestations, moles, a rabbit den and several herds of fluffies. Their numbers fluctuate frequently as a few usually die on the job, but they recover quickly from the loss under Circe’s leadership. George gears up and loads the truck while double checking his messages and texting his first client of the day before hollering to his flock.

“Circe! Get the others, it’s time to go to work!”

Circe pokes her head up from the grass and uses her loose mental connection to the micro swarm, beckoning them all to her. They file out towards the truck, climbing into the pet carriers before George loads them in the truck. He has changed his company logo since acquiring the herd, it now displays a dead rat, raccoon, possum, roach and fluffy in a pile with a bunch of micro’s picketing signs that say “Willis Kills Em All.”

“Alright, let’s go make some money!”


An hour later, George is cleaning up dead possums on Fullerton and Littlefield. Circe is leading her swarm to clean up in a series of sand baths, a little trick George picked up doing research online. Only a handful of micro’s died on this job due to Circe’s leadership, she is a cunning and sharp witted little thing with impeccable planning. After confirming payment with the customer, George gets a call and answers his phone.

“Willis Pest Control, George speaking.”

George hears rustling papers before a man with a heavy accent replies.

“Yes, Mr. Willis. This is Dev Bajwa, I am park manager at Mohawk Manufactured Home Community near Livonia and I was wondering if you were available for a job? You come very highly recommended and we could use your help.”

George looks over as the herd finishes up in the sand bath and smiles.

“Sure, what’s the problem?”


Forty-five minutes later, George pulls up to the office at Mohawk Manufactured Home Community. He grabs up Circe and puts some meat treats in the pet carriers, smiling to his fuzzy compatriots.

“You guys stay put, we’re gonna go find out what's going on.”

George walks into the office with Circe in his front pocket, he is greeted by a sikh man in his mid twenties.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Willis. Right this way.”

They share a handshake and sit at his desk, Dev offers him some tea but he declines.

“So what seems to be the problem, Mr. Bajwa? You made it sound pretty urgent.”

Dev pulls out a folder and spreads out a stack of photos, it is a layout of the park. Many of them show torn up flower beds, fecal waste and a lot of fluffies.

“The park has been invaded, Mr. Willis. Fluffies have been streaming in for weeks, they just started showing up in droves. They started harassing my renters for food and shelter, some of them caved in and then more showed up. We are now overrun with them, they are making nests under all the trailers and for everyone we kill, there's a dozen more. We are not equipped for this and many of the occupants have left the park in disgust.”

Circe peeks out from his pocket as the two of them go over the stack of photos, Dev raises an eyebrow at the sight of her as George scratches his chin and nods.

“Yeah, I think we can handle this. It may get messy though, but from the looks of it you already have that problem. Let’s talk compensation.”


George confirms things with Dev and returns to the truck to prepare, he drops the tailgate and opens the carriers as he digs through his tool chest.

“Ok gang, looks like we got some fluffies to kill.”

They all squeak excitedly in anticipation as he sets Circe down so she can communicate the plan to them, George meanwhile pulls out his sprayer and a tank of the custom fluffycide.

“This oughta do the trick.”

He mixes the powder in with some water and fills the sprayer, pumping the handle to prime it and slings it over his back. As he is unloading the carriers, his phone pings indicating he has a text, he checks to find it’s just a jumble of symbols and gibberish.

“Damn robot calls, need to register on the do not call list. Circe, you guys ready?”

She smiles up at him and nods, the herd anxious for the hunt. He smiles back and grabs the rest of his gear, heading into the park with the carriers. The park is of moderate size but is butted up against another park, Dev wants this handled before they spread over the property line. It’s pretty clear to George the invaders must have come from Islamic Memorial Gardens to the southwest, a park that has seen disuse in the recent years. Only a handful of occupants remain in the park today giving George free reign to do what he has to. Evidence of the invasion is all around, every patch of grass is torn apart and piles of acrid feces dot the landscape. It’s quiet and still as George scans the area, looking for a good place to start. Suddenly, his thoughts are interrupted by a voice.

“Hewwo Mistuh! Oooh wookit aww da wittwe fwuffies! Nice mistuh haf nummies fow fwuffeh?”

George looks down at the pudgy blue and green pegasus and sets down the carriers.

“Sure little one, just sit right there and I’ll get you something yummy.”

The mare smiles and wags her tail as George primes his sprayer.

“Ooh wut dat fingy? Got gud nu-”




“Dat nu taste pwetty! Wai mistuh gif fwuffeh bad wawa?”



“Fwuffeh nu can bweave!”

The mare begins to gasp and choke as the aerosolized fluffycide fills her sinuses and lungs, her eyes bug and her throat begins to close as the feces in her bowels begin to harden. She collapses and desperately claws at her throat as snot runs from her nose and her abdomen swells, finally the feces expands and hardens enough to rupture her intestinal lining and cause internal bleeding. She stills and expires due to a combination of blood loss, organ failure and asphyxiation. George smiles and moves on with the herd behind him, Circe climbs up onto his shoulder and sniffs the air as they advance. She taps his neck and squeaks into his ear, drawing his attention to a trailer with an open door.

“Good eye, Circe. Send them in.”

Circe nods and sends out her influence to the swarm, hundreds of them turn towards the open trailer and rush in the open door. Silence and stillness fill the air as they filter through the abandoned trailer and then a shrill wail pierces the quiet.


“Nu wike bitey munstahs!”

A dozen ferals come rushing out the trailer door, some tumbling down the steps covered in micro’s. They stumble and flail and run as more micro’s swarm their legs and begin snipping at muscles and tendons.


“Weggies haf biggest huwties! Huuhuu, pwease nu mowe bities!”

George walks up to the squirming ferals and Circe signals the micro’s to back off, once they are clear he aims the sprayer.





The ferals lay bloated, choked, bleeding and dead in minutes. George sprays the perimeter of the trailer and closes it up, taping the door shut before donning his gloves and dragging the dead over to the first mare. Circe leads her swarm across the park and stumbles upon a trailer with the siding pulled back from the base, the pungent scent of waste wafts out into the open. The swarm moves into the dimly lit space and spreads out. A teal and purple unicorn stirs from the large fluffpile as skittering noises disturb him.

“Whuh, wus dat noisy? Hewwo? Who am dewe?”

The rest of the pile begins to stir as the unicorn looks around the dim crawlspace, his heart thuds as hundreds of eyes reflect back in the darkness.


The swarm is upon them before they can even react, the fluffpile erupts in screams of agony as hundreds of little cannibals rip, tear, nip and scissor at their tender parts.

“Wittwe munstahs weave fwuffeh awone! Nu wike!”


Hungry micro’s rip into the ferals, opening bloody wounds and worming into soft underbellies or destroying joints. The screaming dies down as several ferals begin to bleed out, throats torn open by scissoring little teeth and organs spilling in the dirt. The unicorn crawls through the bent open siding, desperate to escape before the micro’s swarm him and engulf his terrified face. George looks on with a smile when he feels a bump against his leg, an angry orange and red earthy is head butting his leg and looks up with teary eyes.

“Dummeh munstah hoomin nu huwt fwuffies! Toughy gun gif biggest huwties!”

George snickers at him as he rams into his leg repeatedly, something about these ferals brings out the sadist in him.

“Is that all you got?”

The earthy stares up at him with angry tears and piss runs down his back legs, George brings up his boot and stomps him.



George brings his heavy boot down on his spine, shattering it and splintering his ribs. He screams loudly until George smashes his head to paste.






Things continue much the same way for the next couple hours, Circe leads the swarm to flush out nest after nest and George sprays them with fluffycide. They find at least twenty nests under various trailers, some die by poison while others are ripped apart by the ravenous swarm. George watches in fascination as twelve of them eat a mare from the inside out, gnawing their way out of every hole she has. Soon George has a large pile of corpses to deal with, he lets the herd have a go at a couple fresh corpses while he douses the pile in kerosene. He lights the pile and the smell is awful, but it drives a bunch of ferals out of their nests and sends them running in fear. George watches with a smile and lights a cigarette, thankful the park is mostly empty so he doesn’t disturb anyone with his clean up. Suddenly, he notices the herd all posturing and hissing in his direction right before he hears the click of a gun behind him.

“Please, do not move.”


Ayshaa Damji grew up in Dearborn with her immigrant parents, her father was a former member of the Palestinian National Security Force. She learned everything she knew from him, how to defend herself, hunt, knife skills and how to handle guns. After the collapse of Dearborn's economy and abandonment, Ayshaa put her skills to use as a mercenary and security consultant. Eventually she found herself in the employ of Hasbio working for Site 16, now she has been assigned to recover or destroy the micro herd and their leader, 139-15-M. She used her skills to ping George’s phone and track his location, now she holds him at gunpoint. George exhales a puff off his cigarette and flicks it into the pile.

“Hey if this is about the smell, I’m sorry but I thought Dev told you I would be here.”

She keeps a bead on him and glances over to Circe, the two recognize each other immediately.

“I’m here for 139-15-M and the herd, don’t make things any more difficult than they need to be.”

George glances back as he hears her accented voice and huffs.

“So, you’re from the lab Circe told me so much about, I was wondering when one of you assholes were gonna come sniffing around.”

Ayshaa turns him to face her and narrows her eyes.

“Then you know those fluffies are Hasbio property and you are in possession of them illegally.”

George chuckles and shakes his head, remaining calm in the face of danger.

“You’re the one working for an illegal covert lab and holding a law abiding citizen at gunpoint, I think that trumps anything I did.”

She scowls at him when she notices the micro’s scrambling away, when her focus is drawn George brings the sprayer up.




Ayshaa catches the spray in her eyes and George catches one in the leg as he dives out of the way, he winces at the bullet graze and kicks up at her wrist dislodging the gun from her grip. Ayshaa grabs his ankle and twists it sharply before kicking at his knee, George howls as she torques his joints and kicks at her solar plexus with his free leg. She lets her grip go as George scramble to his feet, Ayshaa wipes at her eyes and draws a knife.

“I’m not letting you take Circe, you bastards just wanna lock her away and save face! She is doing good work out here and she is family now!”

She growls and lunges at him with the knife, cutting his arm before socking him in the face. Circe looks on in concern for her surrogate father and quickly tries to formulate a plan. George throws a punch but Ayshaa catches his arm and hyper extends his elbow. George grits his teeth and throws a headbutt, cracking her in the bridge of the nose. She winces and kicks him in the hip, sending him reeling back before she roles and recovers her gun.

“Enough! The micro’s are coming with me whether you like it or not! Do not make me hurt you any further!”

George stands beside the smoldering pile of fluffy corpses and huffs at the pain she has inflicted on his middle age frame, Ayshaa aiming the gun with an angry scowl and blood running from her nose. Circe stands off to the side behind her and waves urgently to get his attention, she points to the trailer directly behind Ayshaa where several micro’s have climbed the propane tank and started gnawing the rubber hose. George smiles and laughs with a wince.

“Lady, I may be their caretaker but I sure as hell don’t think for them. You want em to come back with you, that's something you have to take up with Circe.”

Circe compels the micro’s to chew faster, the herd are loyal beyond reproach and any number of them will die to preserve the herd and their leader. As Ayshaa continues to draw a bead on George, Circe sends dozens to swarm her ankles. The crawl up her boots and begin gnawing at her legs, biting through her pant legs and nipping into her calves.


“Little monsters!”

Ayshaa kicks and flails and drops her guard just as the micro’s snip through the fuel line on the propane tank, George seizes his chance and kicks a flaming fluffy corpse past her into the tank.




The whole front of the trailer explodes in a fireball of metal shrapnel, George dives for safety as the herd scrambles away. Ayshaa is blown off her feet and flattened with several sharp pieces of metal embedded in her legs, dozens of micro’s burnt to a crisp in an instant. She writhes on the ground in agony, ears ringing and head splitting. George scrambles to his feet and gets ahold of her gun, she looks up to see him aiming at her and Circe and the swarm hissing and gnashing at her.

“Welp, I’d say she really doesn’t wanna go with you lady. I think it’s best you stay still until the cops get here.”

Ayshaa groans in pain and curses under her breath before passing out.


A few weeks pass since the incident at the trailer park, George had a lot of explaining to do to Dev and the local police. Ayshaa was taken into custody and George had to agree to do the job for free in order to calm Dev down. George came back a couple days later to finish the job and help with the clean up, Dev seemed satisfied and soon after the parks inhabitants started coming back. Nearly a hundred of the micro’s died on the mission and George brought them all home for a proper burial, something Circe and the rest were quite grateful for. They died in defense of the herd and that gift is not taken lightly, the rest quickly set about reproducing to bolster their numbers. Day breaks as George sips coffee and mixes formula, the first batch of newborns are hungry. He grabs a plate of cutlets and the formula and heads for the garage.

“Morning everybody, hope you’re hungry!”

Eager peeps and squeaks fill the air as the herd rush from their habitat, the young carried by the others. George smiles and kneels down to set the plate of cutlets into the habitat and sets about hand feeding the young with little syringes of formula as they peep and chirp.

“Now now, plenty for all of you.”

Circe smiles as she watches her herd feed, growing strong and replenishing. Suddenly her ears perk up and her fluff bristles, she turns and rushes towards the door outside and pads at it impatiently. George looks over at the frantic fluffy quizzically.

“What’s up, Circe? Something out there?”

George gets to his feet and hits the button that opens the door, Circe rushes outside and many of the herd follow while George heads out the front door to find two men standing in the yard with the micro’s hissing at them.

“Who the hell are you? Sure don’t look like you’re here to sell me cookies.”

They raise their hands as Circe continues to hiss and gnash angrily.

“Easy, we’re not here to start anything with you or 139-15-M. We just wanna talk.”

George reaches in the doorframe and grabs up his baseball bat.

“Are you more of those Hasbio assholes? How many of you fuckers do I have to blow up before you get the point?”

They back off and the herd gathers rank and prepares to go on the offensive when a whoosh of air draws their attention as a large white alicorn lands in the grass much to George’s bewilderment.

“Nu be scawed, Ciwce. Mistuh Mawkoff an Mistuh Simmons wif Shebawba naow.”

Circe peeps in surprise and rushes over to hug her friends leg, Xibalba smiles and coos to her little compatriot as George looks on stunned.

“Xibalba? As in Site 16 Xibalba? Jesus, Circe told me about you but damn you are something to see in person! What the hell is going on here?”

George is thoroughly confused, Markoff steps over and tries to explain.

“It’s a long story, Mister Willis. You know about Site 16, obviously. Simmons and I were until recently employed there, but things have gotten, complicated. The situation has changed and something needs to be done about them, we could use your help.”

George looks over at their car to see Ayshaa scowling at him, handcuffed in the back seat and then over to Xibalba surrounded by the micro’s with a big smile on her face.

“Ok, you have my attention.”



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deadweight: Another chapter closer to the big showdown, I hope you all enjoy and stay tuned for my next story!
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Anonymous1: Noice

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VenomFluff: Awesome. Ive read all your installments in this series and have thoroughly enjoyed them. PLEASE keep going and finish it. You'll be the first in Booru history I believe to write an epic the size of the Iilad and actually FINISH it.
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Anonymous2: dope,this like sum avenger shit.
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Fluffus: Booru’s mightiest heroes!
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deadweight: @Anonymous: @VenomFluff: @Anonymous: @Fluffus: Thanks for the positive feedback, I fully intend to finish this story line. Also, I forgot to mention this is my 130th story on the booru. Here's to many more!

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IGotIdeas: needs more rape and murder.
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Anonymous3: >need to register on the do not call list

Its useless nobody respect those lists and call you anyway