Lilith-and-Nigel abuse author:differential_Sloth betrayal brutal deception explicit fluffies-as-food roast roast-fluffy roasted_fluffy skinned skinned_alive unwittingly_eat_aww_da_babbehs!


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The Dinner Guest

By differential_Sloth

Darkness will prevail the Boogieman is not a tall tale


Nigel turned into the last leg of his commute home; it had been a longer day than usual, and he didn’t get out until 10pm. It was close to 11 now, but Nigel was used to long shifts and marathon operations; an hour-long drive was nothing. Nigel rounded the final bend in the road and turned into his driveway, a smooth transition from the road like 1000s before it. This time though, Nigel noticed a blur of colour in the glow of his headlights. There was a soft thud from the front left corner of his car, and after bringing it to stop, Nigel heard the screams of a fluffy.

‘Screee! Wowstest owwies!! Hewp speciaw fwend! Munstah twy num fwuffy!' Nigel stepped out walked around the front; an adult male fluffy lay on his side in the driveway. The stallion scrabbled with his front legs, but his hind legs were unnaturally still. ‘Wai weggies nu wowk!?’ The panicked fluffy yelled. ‘Pwease weggies! Fwuffy nee wun way fwom munstah!!!’

‘Easy there,' Nigel reached down and stroked the fluffy's mane, which he didn't take kindly too.

‘Nuuhuuhuu! Pwease nu huwt fwuffy!! Fwuffy nu wan huwties! Famiwy nee fwuffy!’

‘It’s okay boy, I won’t hurt you.’ Nigel said. The fluffy was seriously wounded. But Nigel couldn’t tell exactly what had happened in the dark. ‘I’m going to pick you up and put you in my car, okay?’

‘Nu! Nu can weave famiwy! Famiwy nee nummies! Nee fwuffy!!!’

‘Once I get you inside, you can tell me where your family is, and I'll get them too.'

The fluffy looked at Nigel; ‘N-nice Mistah pwomise nu huwt speciaw fwend an babbehs?'

‘Don’t worry’ Nigel assured him, ‘They’ll be fine. Let’s get you off the ground.’ Nigel walked back to the car and grabbed a spare towel he had in the trunk. He carefully wrapped the stallion in the towel and put him on the back seat. Nigel drove the rest of the way to his house, took the wounded fluffy to his spare room and set him on up the bed with a dish of water close by.

‘Now, why don’t you tell me where your family is?’

‘Huhuhuhuuu owwwieees!’ the stallion moaned. Nigel guessed the shock had worn off, and the fluffy was in considerable pain. ‘Owwiess! Pwease make huwties gu way nice Mistah!'

‘Come on focus’ Nigel said firmly. ‘Where is your family?’

‘Famiwy am in bushie pwace!’ The stallion said. ‘Bushie pwace huhuhuu! Pwease hewp famiwy an make huwties gu way!!’

‘Alright, I'll be right back.' Nigel went to his workshop and came back with a needle and syringe, and a vial of veterinary painkillers. He wasn't meant to have it, strictly speaking, but Nigel was someone who always knew the right people.

‘Huu pwease nu giv fwuffy sowwie stick!’ The stallion cried when he saw the Nigel prime the syringe. ‘Am gud fwuffy!’

‘This isn't a sorry stick,' Nigel assured the fluffy. ‘It'll help the pain.' Syringe ready, Nigel picked out an injection site and had the needle in before the fluffy could stop him.

‘Screeee! Pointy owwies! Wai huwt fwuffy?!’

Nigel capped the syringe. ‘How are your hurties?’ He asked. ‘Do they feel better?’

The stallion was quiet for a few moments. ‘Y-yes nice Mistah. Owwies am guin way.'

‘See, told you so.’ Nigel stroked the fluffy’s mane. ‘Ok, you said your family was in a bushie place; can you tell me anything more?’


Nigel walked to the hedges on the edge of his property; based on the information he'd pried from the stallion, Nigel had a good idea of where his family was camped out. As Nigel got closer, he panned the flashlight across them and looked for signs of nest building. There was none on the property side, but not long into his search, Nigel heard the unmistakable sound of fluff speak.

‘How wong tiww Daddeh?’

‘Mummah nu knu babbeh.’

‘Huhuhuu miss Daddeh! Babbeh wan Daddeh be back!’

Nigel followed the chatter; ‘Hello?’ he called out. ‘Are there any fluffies there?’

‘Who am dat Mummah?’

‘Nu babbeh! Nu make tawkies!’ The mare said like it would make any difference now.

‘You can come out, I won’t hurt you. I have something I need to tell you about your special friend.’

There was a pause; ‘Wait hewe babbehs.’ Nigel heard a rustle behind him. He turned and saw a grey mare with blue mane and tail emerge from the bush. She looked up at him; ‘Nice Mistah knu whewe speciaw fwend am?'

‘Yes I do; he’s in my house.’‘I’m afraid I hurt him by accident.’

‘Bud wai?’ the mare asked. ‘He nu am bad fwuffy!’

‘It was an accident' Nigel said calmly. ‘I've made his hurties go away, but he's worried about you and your babies. You should come with me.'

‘Otay nice Mistah, Mummah an babbehs gu wif nice Mistah tu see speciaw fwend.' The mare went back into the nest; ‘Fowwow Mummah babbehs, nice Mistah am take us tu see Daddeh.'

‘Otay Mummah!’

‘Yay! Daddeh! Get See Daddeh!’

The mare reemerged with four foals in tow. Nigel guessed they were perhaps 4 or 5 weeks old. ‘Follow me.’ He led the fluffies up to the house into the spare room where the stallion was.

‘Speciaw fwend? Speciaw fwend wat happen?!’ The mare rushed over. ‘Wat happen?!’

‘M-metaw munstah twy nn-num fwwuffy,' the painkiller was in full effect and slurred the stallion's speech. ‘Buud nice Mistah make owwies gu way.'

‘Daddeh! Daddeh!’ One of the foals clambered up the bed to hug his father. ‘Babbeh giv Daddeh huggies an make bettah!’ The filly was joined by her siblings in short order, but the mare turned her attention back to Nigel.

‘Wat am wong wif speciaw fwend? Wai he nu wawkies an make siwwie tawkies?!’

‘He’s talking funny because of what I gave him to make his hurties go away,’ Nigel said. ‘But I don’t know why he can’t walk. I think he might be hurt very bad.’

‘Pwease fix speciaw fwend nice Mistah!' The mare hugged Nigel's leg tight. ‘Speciaw fwend nee wawkies fow pway wif babbehs an fin nummies!'

Nigel gently pushed the mare off. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Carefully, he lifted the stallion off the bed. ‘I want you to stay here with your babies’ he told the mare. When I’m done with your special friend I’ll bring him back, and some food and water.’

‘Otay nice Mistah.’ The mare turned to her foals. ‘Cum tu Mummah babbehs, ewyting wiww be otay.'

Nigel closed the door behind him and took the stallion to his workshop. On the small exam table he finally got the chance to examine the stallion properly. The stallion could move his front half, but his hindquarters were sill. Must be a thoracic fracture, severe spinal cord damage too. Nigel had seen his fair share. ‘Can you move your back legs for me?' The stallion face strained with effort, but his hind legs didn't move.

‘Nu can du it! W-wai weggies nu move? Oda weggies move!’

Nigel got a fresh needle and pricked the stallions hind leg. ‘Did you feel that?’

‘Wat? Feew wat?’

Nigel pricked the stallions rump. ‘How about that?’

‘Wat? Wat nice Mistah doin? Wai weggies nu wowk? Wai nice Mistah nu fix weggies?'

Nigel put the needle down. ‘I’m sorry, but your back legs are broken.’

‘W-wah? Bwoken?’

‘It means they can’t move.’

‘Nu! Weggies nee wowk!’ The stallion cried. ‘Nee weggies fow pway an-’

‘I know’ Nigel gently interrupted. ‘Look, you’ve had a big day. Why don’t we get you back to bed and we’ll see if we can do anything about your legs tomorrow?’

‘Huuhuhuu otay nice Mistah.'

Nigel picked up the stallion and returned him to his family. He gave them with water and food, then let them be for the night. At long last, Nigel went to check on his own fluffy. When he opened the door to Lilith’s safe room, Nigel was met by the alicorn sitting on her bed, pouting.

‘Wat Daddeh doin?’ Lilith asked. ‘Wai Daddeh nu see Wiwif when cum home?’

‘I’m sorry sweetie. There was a little accident on the way home.’

‘Acciden?!' Lilith rushed over her expression one of worry. ‘Am Daddeh otay? Daddeh ha owwies?'

‘Don’t worry Lilith, Daddy’s fine.’ Nigel picked up his fluffy. ‘Daddy didn’t watch where he was going and accidentally hit a fluffy with his car.’

‘Am dat fwuffy otay?’ Lilith asked.

‘I don’t know honey, but I think he’s hurt very bad.’

‘Dat am saddies’ Lilith said. ‘Whewe am he Daddeh?’

‘He’s in the spare room with his special friend and his babies.’

‘*Gasp* am we gun pway wif dem Daddeh?!’ Lilith asked, full of excitement.

‘We'll see Lilith' Nigel put the alicorn down. ‘We'll see. Now, let's get you something to... what's wrong with your huggie friend?' Nigel walked over to the pillowed pegasus lying on the nearby bed. The filly was unnaturally still; closer inspection revealed she was dead.

‘Wiwif nu knu Daddeh’ the alicorn said. ‘Wiwif was givin hew huggies, an den she was fowewa sweepies.’

Nigel looked over the filly; it seemed Lilith was telling the truth, and there was no visible sign she had a hand in the filly's demise. ‘Oh well,' Nigel picked up the body of the filly. ‘These things happen. Come on, let's get your dinner sorted.'


A decent night’s sleep and the new day brought the final exam of the stallions wounds, and Nigel’s initial diagnosis was confirmed. The encounter with the car had left him with a broken back and some kind of spinal cord injury, which accounted for the paralysis of his hindquarters. There was also a nasty bruise which had fully developed, but by some miracle, the fluffy hadn't suffered any other bone fractures. Nigel did what he could for the stallion, which included the installation of a catheter and colostomy bag, then returned him to the spare room.

‘I’m afraid that’s all I can do.’ Nigel told the stallion. ‘I tried, but I can’t fix your legs.’

‘Huhuhuu weggies!’ the stallion moaned. ‘Nu can hewp famiwy nu mowe! Am bad Daddeh!’

‘Don’t worry boy,’ Nigel comforted the stallion, ‘it’s not your fault.’

‘Huhuhuu how fwuffy fin nummies fow famiwy?’ The stallion moaned. ‘How pway wif babbehs?’

‘I don’t know how to help you play with your foals again,’ Nigel said, ‘but you won’t have to worry about finding food for them.’

‘Wai?’ The stallion asked.

‘Well, I feel bad for what happened last night. So, I think it's only fair for you and your family to live here.'

The stallion looked at Nigel for a moment, apparently not believing what he’d been told. Ferals, especially those who’d lived that life for a few generations, weren't as fast to accept offers to be re-homed as a stray was. ‘Nice Mistah gun giv fwuffy and famiwy houise?’ he asked. ‘Giv babbehs nummies su day gwow big an stwong?’


The stallion's face lit up. ‘Tank yu! Tank yu nice Mistah! Fwuffy su happies!' In his excitement, the stallion tried to drag himself up and hug Nigel.

‘Easy there,’ Nigel stopped the stallion. ‘You don’t want to hurt yourself. Now, how about I get your family so you can tell them the good news?’

Nigel walked to the patio and let the stallion’s family back in; he led the mare and foals to the spare room where the stallion informed them they’d live in the house from now on. All of them were overjoyed. Nigel refilled their food and water then closed the door. He would have let Lilith meet the mare and her foals, but the alicorn was being difficult and refused to wear her sweater, a required item when she met non-alicorn fluffies.

‘Wat am Daddeh gun du wif nyu fwuffies?’ Lilith asked Nigel as he did some miscellaneous chores.

‘I’m not sure sweetie.’

‘Can we pway nummie ow huggie game gain Daddeh?’

‘I don’t think so Lilith.’

‘Bud dat am Wiwif’s favowit game!’ It was indeed her favourite, and ever since the last fluffies who came to his door beat her, she’d been eager for a rematch.

‘I know honey, but the stallion can’t have special huggies anymore, and we can’t play the game like that; it wouldn't be fair.’ Lilith grunted in grudging agreement. ‘But don’t worry Lilith, Daddy will think of a nice game we can play with our new friends.’

‘Otay Daddeh.’ Lilith said. Then, ‘Can Wiwif see nyu fwuffies nao?’

‘Only if you wear your sweater.’

‘Wiwif nu wan dummeh swetah!!’


A week passed since the stallion, and his family came into Nigel's life. He’d introduced Lilith to them, the alicorn having got over her hatred of the sweater. The fluffies got on well together which Nigel was pleased to see, and Lilith behaved herself. When she was younger, the alicorn sometimes got too excited when new fluffies came to the house and ruined their chance to play with them.

For the most part, Nigel confined the family to the spare room, but let the foals onto the patio on occasion so they could get exercise. Sometimes the mare went with them but chose to stay with her special friend most of the time. Whenever Nigel saw them together, she was hugging the stallion, convinced if she did it enough his legs would work again. He chose to let them live in hope for the time being.

Aside from accommodating the family in his house, life had returned to normal for Nigel and Lilith. There was, however, the matter of what he would do with them. Six extra adult fluffies in the house, even if one couldn't move, was far more than Nigel wanted to deal with, but surrendering them at a shelter was out of the question. The stallion would be euthanized immediately, and the rest of the family broken up. Where was the fun in that?

It took a few days, but Nigel found a plan to his liking.


The family stared at their food bowls.

‘Dis nu am Kibbwe’ the mare said.

‘Wai big Daddeh giv nyu nummies?’ One of the colts asked.

‘I thought you might be sick of the kibble.’ Nigel filled the stallion’s bowl with the mixture of Alphalpha, rolled oats, feed pellets and mixed dry fruit, fortified with mineral salts and molasses. The fluffies looked at the food for a moment longer, and it was one of the fillies who was the first to try it. She ate one mouth full, then put her head down and ate as fast as she could. Her sibblings and parents took that as a good sign and dug in themselves.

‘*Urp* Dese am bestest nummies big Daddeh!’ The large yellow colt said after he finished.

‘Bestest ewa!’ The filly who first tried it added. ‘Tank yu big Daddeh!.’

‘That’s alright. ‘What do you two think?’ He asked the mare and the stallion.

‘Nummies am gud Nice Mistah!’ The mare said. ‘Wish had dese when babbehs wewe wittwe babbehs, den cud make bestest miwkies fow dem!’

‘I’m sure you could.’

‘Wub nummies nice Mistah. Day make weggies wowk gain?'

‘I’m afraid not.’ Nigel told the stallion.

‘Otay,’ the disappointed fluffy said. ‘Bud, day am stiww gud.’

‘Can babbehs hav mowe nummies?’ The other colt asked.

‘Mowe nummies! Mowe!’

‘You can have some more at lunchtime' Nigel said. ‘But I need you to stay in here and behave right now; I've got important work to do.'

‘Fwuffies an babbehs be gud nice Mistah' the mare assured him.

‘Good. I'll let your babies out for a run later.' Nigel gave the stallion and the mare a goodbye pat on the head and left the spare room. He went to his workshop and retrieved a box; inside were two fluffies, each about 6 to 7 weeks old.

‘Nyu Daddeh takin big babbehs fow pway an spwowe?’ The colt asked.

‘Fwuffies wan pway! Pway!’ His sister cried.

‘Be patient,’ Nigel lett Lilith out of the safe room and she followed Nigel into the kitchen. He put the box on the counter and went to get a cold pack. With it in hand, Nigel lifted the colt out of the box and held him over a bin.

‘Wee upsies!' The little fluffy cheered. ‘Wub upsies! Upsieeee! Cowdies!' Nigel held the cold pack against the colt's abdomen. It didn't take long until *plurt* he voided his bowels into the bin.

‘Wai nyu Daddeh make bwudda du poopies!?’ The worried filly asked. ‘Wai make bwudda saddieee!’ The filly squealed as she was lifted from the box and received the same treatment. ‘Cowdies! Nu wan cowdies!’


Nigel cleaned the sibblings up with a damp cloth and carried them to the large central countertop. He set them down, and the two wrapped each other in a tight hug.

‘Huhu wai nyu Daddeh giv babbehs cowdies huwties?’

‘Babbehs am bad babbehs? Nu knu wat du, bud pwomise nu du it gain!’

Nigel took a knife from its block and gave it a quick sharpen, even though the edge already rivalled a scalpel. Knife in hand, Nigel plucked the filly away from her brother and strapped her into a small rack that held her up by the hind legs.

‘I’m sorry,’ Nigel brought the knife to her hindquarters, ‘this will sting.’


Mid-afternoon rolled around; Nigel put the foals back in the spare room after giving them run of the patio for a while and had given them and their parents more of the feed, adding a half scoop more this time. While the family ate and likely settled down for an afternoon nap, Nigel and Lilith enjoyed a late lunch. They ate the same thing, a variation on beef wellington Nigel had been experimenting with, though they were probably closer to some kind of pastry.

‘What do you think Lilith?’

The alicorn swallowed. ‘Am gud nummies Daddeh!’

‘Wonderful,’ Nigel. Cut another piece off his. ‘I think I know what we’ll be giving our friends for dinner.’

‘Am we gun giv dese nummies to oda fwuffies?’

‘No Lilith.’ Nigel thought for a moment. ‘Well, one of them.’


‘Wat am dinnah pwatie?’ The mare asked.

‘I invite some of my friends over and cook dinner for them.’ Nigel explained.

‘Dat soun wike biggest funsies!!’ One of the colts said.

‘Big babbehs wan gu tu dinnah pawtie wif big Daddeh!!' his sister added.

‘Oh don’t you worry,’ Nigel said scratching them both behind the ear, ‘you’ll be there. In fact, you and you Mummah are going to help me make the food.’

‘Weway? Big babbehs an Mummah hewp big Daddeh?! Big babbeh su cited!!’


Nigel looked up. ‘What’s wrong?’ He asked the stallion.

‘Huuhuuu fwuffy nu can hewp nice Mistah,' he said. ‘Weggies stiww am dummehs.’

‘Hey don’t worry about it.’ Nigel walked over and tussled the stallion’s mane. ‘You still get to come.’

‘*Sniff* Weawy?’

‘Oh yes, my friends have been waited to meet you.’

‘Weawy?' The stallion brightened up. ‘Nice Mistah's fwends wan see fwuffy?'

‘They do.' Nigel assured the fluffy. He turned to the mare and their colts and fillies. ‘I'll come get you all to help me with dinner in a while. But first, I've got a special lunch for you.'

‘Speciaw nummies?’ The mare asked.

‘That's right. In fact, it should be ready,' Nigel walked to the door; ‘I'll go check.' Out in the kitchen, Nigel checked the pasta on the stove. It was a special recipe, loaded with herbs. Nigel portioned out the pasta into 6 bowls, packed them on a tray and carried it to the spare room. The family could hardly believe what was in front of them and in short order the bowls were empty and licked clean. Bellies full, the fluffies settled into a fluff pile for a nap.

Nigel spent the next couple of hours doing prep work in the kitchen and readied the ingredients and material he needed to make the meal he intended to serve. He finished the prep work but felt the mare and her foals weren't quite ready. So, Nigel spent an hour or so tidying the dinning room until he felt they'd had enough time.

‘Alright,’ Nigel said as he opened the door, ‘are you ready to help me get dinner ready?’

‘Yay!’ The colts and fillies ran towards him. ‘Hewp big Daddeh!’

‘Come on ,' Nigel pointed to the stallion, ‘don't be rude; say goodbye to your daddy.'

The young fluffies, looking somewhat ashamed, returned to the bed their father lay on and hugged him. ‘Bai bai Daddeh!’ One of the colts said. ‘Biggest babbeh see Daddeh gain soon!’

‘Daddeh wub yu biggest babbeh’ the stallion said. ‘Wub aww yu babbehs.’

‘Mummah and babbehs see yu soon speciaw fwend,' the mare hugged her mate goodbye. ‘Nu be saddies.'

Nigel waited until they were done then led the mare and the young fluffies down the hall to the kitchen. He had them get into a small pen assembled on the kitchen floor. ‘How Mummah an babbehs hewp hewe?’ The mare asked.

‘I'll get you when I need you, don't worry.' Nigel slipped on his apron and washed his hands, by habit using the precise technique common to surgeons the world over. The fluffies watched from their pen as Nigel set out what he needed for the first step. Tools laid out, Nigel set one of his cooking playlists to shuffle, and the gentle guitar notes of Driftwood flowed from the kitchen speakers.

Nigel walked to the pen and picked the mare off the floor. ‘Whewe big Daddeh takin Mummah?’

‘Am time fow hewp nao nice Mistah? The mare asked.

‘Yes, dear.' Nigel carried the mare to a vertical rack above a shallow stainless steel trough; he’d bought it from a friend who worked in the “custom pet food” industry. The rack had two shackles affixed to the top bar; into these went the mare’s two hind legs, which left her hanging upside down.

‘Eeee! Bad upsies!' she squealed. ‘Wai nice Mistah giv fwuffy bad upsies!? Am bad fwuffy?'

‘Mummah!’ A colt said, concern rising. ‘Wai big Daddeh giv Mummah bad upsieeee!' The young fluffy squeaked with fright as Nigel plucked him from the pen by his scruff. ‘Owwies! Owwie upsies!!'

‘Wai giv biggest babbeh bad upsies?' The mare asked. ‘He nu am bad babbeh! He nu du bad poopies ewa!’

Nigel ignored the protests of the mare and the colt’s sibblings and carried the young fluffy to the bin; he held the squirming colt by the scruff of the neck and evacuated anything left with a cold pack.

‘Nuu! Nu cowdie owwies!’ He whined. ‘Mummah!’

‘Pwease nice Mistah!' The mare begged, ‘Nu giv biggest babbeh huwties! Dis am tuu many heawt huwties fow Mummah!’ Her words fell on deaf ears. Satisfied the colt was fully evacuated, Nigel carried him to the central island and strapped him into the same rig he used for the other young fluffies a week or so ago. Like his mother, the colt was soon hung upside down, restrained by the hind legs.

‘Nu wike huhuhuu! Nu wike!!’ The colt struggled against the restraints. ‘Pwease big Daddeh! Wet babbeh down! Nu wike meanie upsies game nu mowe!!'

‘Pwease nice Mistah, Stahp!' The mare was on the verge of panic. ‘Pwease stahp! Mummah an babbehs nu knu wat du, bud pwomise newa du it gain! Pwease wet biggest babbeh an Mummah down!'

’Time waits for no one at all. No, not even you.’ Nigel picked up a knife and checked the edge; it looked like it could cleave an atom in half. He approached the colt, knife in hand, and grabbed hold of his hind leg to keep it still.

‘Wai big Daddeh hav sowwie stick!?’ The panicked colt yelled. ‘Wai wan huwt babbeeeee! Owwies!!!’ The young fluffy squealed in pain as Nigel made a careful incision on the inside of the colt’s legs. ‘Screeeee! Owwies!! Owwwiesss! Mummah!!’

‘Nu nice Mistah! Nu giv babbeh huwties!' The mother screamed. ‘Fwuffy sowwies! Am sowwies fow wat du!! Nu mean tu-’

‘SCREEEEE!' The colt's screaming reached a new level as Nigel continued the incision and began to methodically separate he colt's skin from the layer of muscle below. ‘SKREEEEEEEE! MUMMAH HEWP! SABE BABBEH!’

‘BABBEH!’ MUMMAH CUMIN BIGGEST BABBEH!!!’ the mare struggled madly to escape her bond, but only managed to snap one of her legs. ‘SCREEEE!' She squealed in pain, but the restraint held her in place.

‘Pwease big Daddeh!’ A filly screamed. ‘Nu huwt bwudda nu mowe! Pwease nu-’

‘SQUEEEEEEEEE!!!!’ The colt squealed in primal agony; Nigel had enough skin separated to grab hold and physically pull the rest off; the sinew and connective tissue offered little resistance. ‘SKREEEEEEE!!! REEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!’ The pain of having his skin ripped from his body nearly drove the colt insane. He struggled wildly, but nothing could save him. With one last tug, Nigel pulled the skin off over the colt’s head. ‘REEEEEE!!! EEEEEEEEEE!!!!!’ The colt bucked and writhed, dark pink muscles exposed to the air. His bloodshot eyes flitted about, unable to close.


‘SCREEE! BWUDDA NUUU!!’ One of his sibblings cried.



‘SPECIAW FWEND!!!! SABE BABBEHS!!’ Even if the stallion could move, there was no way he could hear the cries of his family; heavy duty sound insulation saw to that.

Nigel removed the last few bits of pelt from the colt, then opened his belly with one clean motion and removed the entrails. With that done, he moved the colt from the skinning rack to a storage rack not far away.

‘Chirp. Chirp.’

Shock had set in; the colt’s screams hadn't lasted for long after his pelt was removed. He was reduced to weak chirps as his system overloaded and crashed. Bloody foam settled at the corner of his hideous exposed jaw. Nigel disposed of the entrails and set the pelt aside; he had plans for it. Then, he pulled a filly from the pen.


‘BABBEH!! BAABEHHHH!’ The mare continued her desperate struggle, having seen what was in store for her offspring. ‘NU HUWT BABBEH!!! NU HUWT-’

‘SQUEEEEEEEEE! MUUUMMMAHHHHHH!’ When Nigel separated the filly from her pelt, her scream drowned out her mother. In a matter of minutes, she hung next to her brother, skinned, gutted and yearning for death.


Nigel reached for the second colt; the fluffy tied to fight and bit Nigel’s hand is it came close. Nigel backhanded the colt and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck; soon after he was in the skinning rack.

‘BABBEHHHH!’ The mare wailed as Nigel skinned and gutted the colt alive; she was on the brink of madness and had broken her other leg trying to escape from her bonds. Soon after the colt, she was treated to the sight of her last foal, a pegasus filly with grey fluff like hers, having her skin ripped off and innards pulled from her body.

The traumatised fluffy stared at the far rack where her offspring who were still alive writhed in pain, muscles exposed and abdomen open to the world. Their chirps ceased as life ebbed away. It was small mercy perhaps that none of them lived more than a minute after they’d been skinned, though it was little consolation to the mare.


‘Watching you foals die released stress hormones, a lot of them.’ Nigel washed the blood off his skinning knife and put it on a clean cloth. ‘Likewise, when I skinned and gutted them it did much the same. Combined with the herbs in the pasta I gave you earlier,’ Nigel picked up a fresh knife, ‘it will give your meat a unique flavour.’


‘Haven’t you figured it out yet?’ Nigel walked over to the mare and pulled back her head. ‘You and your babies are dinner.’ Nigel slit the mare’s jugular vein and carotid artery; blood spewed from the wounds and splattered into the trough below.

‘Skurwege! Kahuff!’ The Gurgled screams lasted for but a few seconds; death came quickly for the mare, though she twitched for a few moments as Nigel left her to bleed out. While the blood drained, Nigel prepared the foals. With expert hands, he carved the meat from their bodies and set it on a large plate. Nigel was slightly surprised when one of them twitched as the knife cleaved meat from its bones, but he didn't believe for a moment the colt, or maybe it was one of the fillies, was still alive.

With the caucuses butchered, Nigel divided the meat into six equal portions and prepared the rest of the ingredients for the wellingtons. When the duxelle was ready, he spread it onto the shingled prosciutto, then placed the portions of meat on top of it. Each was wrapped into a tight cylinder and put into the fridge to firm up. Nigel skinned and gutted the mare where she hung then transferred her to the island. He filled the body cavity with a mixture of garlic, roughly chopped onions, diced bacon and Italian style herbs, lightly pan-fried

Nigel sewed up the body, rubbed it down with salt and pepper, and covered it with a layer of prosciutto and another of bacon. Next came the most time consuming but rewarding step. He wrapped the mare in a lotus leaf, then encased it in clay; he decorated the exterior with a few moulded flowers, put the roast in a large tray and then in the oven. With the settings he used, it would take around 4 hours for the roast to finish. Quite the journey, but it would be well worth it.


‘Keep your eyes closed, you don’t want to get soap in them.’

‘Huu otay nice Mistah.' The stallion obeyed, and Nigel worked the shampoo into the fluff on the stallion's head. With the detachable head, he rinsed out the suds and lifted the damp fluffy onto a large towel he'd warmed in the dryer. He towelled the stallion dry. ‘Nice Mistah?'


‘Whewe am famiwy? Nice Mistah say dat day cum back when day dun hewpin nice Mistah make nummies.'

‘Oh don’t worry about them,’ Nigel said. ‘They’re resting; you’ll see them at dinner.’

‘Otay nice Mistah,' the stallion said. ‘Fwuffy jus miss famiwy.'

‘It's ok boy, you'll be with them soon.' Nigel picked up a hairdryer and finished drying the stallion. ‘There we are, all ready for tonight; are you excited?'

‘Yes nice Mistah! Nu can wait fow meet nice Mistah's fwends and see famiwy gain!'

‘That’s the spirit.’ Nigel picked up the stallion and carried him back to the spare room. ‘I’ll come and get you when my friends arrive; shouldn’t be too long.’

‘Otay Mistah,' The stallion settled back on his bed. ‘Fwuffy nu can wait.'


‘Nigel darling, how are you?’

‘Very well Anastasia thank you.' The two friends shared a quick hug, and Nigel turned to the man standing next to her. ‘Gregory, how are you?'

‘Good Nigel, Good.’ The men shook hands and patted each other on the shoulder. ‘We’ve secured another few contracts.’

‘Ah, great news; you tell me all about it inside.' Nigel led his two friends to the living room where Nigel's partner, a fellow neurosurgeon called Natalie, sat on the lounge petting Lilith. The alicorn jumped off the lounge and ran over to the new arrivals.

‘Anna! Gweg!’ Lilith sat up in front of them. ‘Wiwif su happies see yu gain!’

‘Hello Lilith,’ Anastasia crouched and scratched the Alicorn on the neck. ‘Are you still being a good fluffy for your Daddy?’

‘Yes Anna! Wiwif am bestest fwuffy fow Daddeh!’ The alicorn said. ‘Wiwif wub Daddeh!’

‘Where’s the other fluffy you said would be here?’ Greg asked.

‘In the spare room,’ Nigel told him. ‘He’s rear legs are paralysed, some sort of thoracic fracture and spinal cord damage. I’ll go get him in a minute.’

‘Ah good, he wouldn’t want to miss out on Dinner would he.’

‘No,’ Nigel smiled, ‘No he would not.’


‘-lucky for us there are plenty of six-litre power-strokes on the used market,' Greg told the party as Nigel plated up the wellingtons and garnish. ‘They have none of the government mandated emissions nonsense, so they use less fuel, and we keep them on the road longer. We're run rings around the poor bastards who fall for the new trucks.'

‘Air quality isn’t nonsense Greg,’ Nigel said. ‘Air pollution reeks havoc on human health; how much productivity do we lose to lung cancer and other respiratory problems?’

‘We didn't need it forced down our throats by Washington,' Greg cut into his wellington. ‘The private sector was perfectly capable of solving the problem. Oh man, this smells incredible.’

‘Government intervention has its place.' Nigel took his seat at the end of the table, with his partner on one side and Lilith on the other in her jump seat. ‘There are times society needs a firm push in the right direction.’

‘Washington needs to be reminded where and when that place is.’ Greg declared.

‘Alright enough you two’ Anastasia said. ‘You debate later.’

‘Alright,' Greg said. ‘Well then, why don't you tell us about your new fluffy then?'

‘Well there’s not a lot to talk about,’ Nigel cut into his wellington. ‘I pulled into my driveway a few nights ago and clipped him with the car. Simple accident.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t drive home from work so late’ Natalie said. ‘Why can’t you sleep in the bunk rooms? That’s what they’re for.’

‘I prefer my own bed,’ Nigel said. ‘And Lilith doesn’t like being left alone all night.’

‘I don’t understand why you put so much effort into her,’ Greg looked at Lilith, happily eating her wellington. ‘Or why you paid so much for her.’

‘Well that’s somewhere else we differ Greg,’ Nigel sipped his wine. ‘But at least we have the same taste in drinks.’

‘Nice Mistah?'

Nigel looked at the stallion, in a high chair like Lilith’s. ‘Is something wrong? How’s your dinner?’

‘Id am weawy gud nice Mistah!' The stallion had eaten half his wellington. ‘Bud nu can see famiwy. Nice Mistah say dat famiwy be hewe!'

Nigel shared a looked with his friends. ‘They’ll be out in a minute, they’re working on our main course in the kitchen.’

‘Huh? Wat dat mean?’

‘Don’t worry,’ Nigel tussled the stallion’s mane.

‘Yeah, when are you serving the main?' Greg asked. ‘When do we get to see the latest crazy dish you've been working on?'

‘When you finish your entree Greg,’ Nigel said. ‘You know I don’t let you take leftovers anymore, you said it yourself; you never finish them.’

‘That won’t be a problem this time Nige,’ Greg cut another portion of his wellington. ‘Not at all.’

Soon enough, the diners finished their entrees and Nigel collected the plates except for the stallion's, who hadn't finished. ‘I'll get our main course,' he said. ‘Won't be a moment.' Nigel left the dining room.

‘Wat am mattah fwend?’ Lilith asked the stallion. The fluffy looked all over, as well as his impaired mobility would allow.

‘Fwuffy twyin see famiwy,’ he said, somewhat distressed. ‘Nu can see dem. Wan knu whewe speciaw fwend an babbehs am!’

‘Don’t worry little buddy,’ Greg said. ‘They’re probably a lot closer than you think.’

‘Oh stop it,’ Anastasia tapped Greg's hand.


‘I won’t let you ruin another surprise.’

‘Sapwise? Wat Sapwise?’ The stallion asked.

‘Oh, nothing dear,’ Anastasia assured. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

At that moment Nigel returned wheeling a trolley; on top were fresh plates and a large platter with the clay roast in the centre.

‘Nige, what the hell is that?’

‘Oh is it a clay roast?’ Anastasia asked.

‘It is.’ Nigel placed the tray in the middle of the table.

‘Are you really going to serve me something you cooked in mud?’

‘I’m saving that for next time actually,’ Nigel set out the fresh plates. ‘But you don’t have to worry; the roast doesn’t have any direct contact with the clay.’

‘Yeah Sure.’

‘Hold your judgement Greg; I think you'll find a roast cooked in clay more succulent. Not to mention,' Nigel picked up a breaker, ‘it's always nice to add some flair to a dinner party.' Nigel struck the roast until the clay fractured into large pieces. He removed the shards and set them aside to reveal the lotus leaf. ‘You see Greg,' Nigel unwrapped the leaf, ‘no direct contact.'

‘Oh my,’

‘Well, would you look at that.’

‘Screee!' The stallion stared in wide-eyed terror at the roasted fluffy, its eyes glazed over and exposed muscles browned by the heat of the oven. ‘Wat am dat!!?!'

‘Oh don’t be silly,’ Nigel got ready to carve. ‘It’s a fluffy, minus the fluff of course.’

A blank look washed over the stallion’s face. When he fully processed what he’d been told; ‘SCREEEEEEE!!’

‘Jesus,' Greg flinched at the scream. ‘Of all the nights I didn't bring earplugs.'


Nigel grinned. ‘But they’re already here, they’ve been here the whole time.’

A look of confusion and terror washed over the stallion. ‘N-nu! Famiwy nu am hewe!!’

‘Of course they are,’ Nigel turned the platter to face the stallion. ‘Don’t you recognise her?’

Gears turned in the stallion’s head, and Nigel was granted the privilege of seeing the fluffy’s face when he figured it out; ‘S-speciaw, fwend?’

‘Correct.’ Nigel positioned the knife and carving fork. ‘Who wants a leg?’

‘W-whewe, whewe babbehs?’ The stallion asked, voice shaky.

‘They were in the wellingtons. Well, their meat at least.’ Nigel separated one of the hind legs and put it on Greg’s plate. ‘You two did a fine job keeping them fed before you came here.'

The stallion shook, the full horror clear to him; his head spun, and an ice cold feeling washed over him. ‘B-babbehs…’ He stared at the plate in front of him, where a portion of his wellington remained. Tears poured from the stallion's eyes, and he began to hyperventilate.

‘You see, there was no way I could keep all of you, and it's technically illegal for me to let you go back to the forest, even if you could walk.' Nigel carved more cuts of meat from the roast and distributed them among his guest's plates. ‘That left me with a dilemma. I could take you all to a shelter, but-'

‘Ah, Nige?'


‘I think he’s checked out.’

Nigel put down the utensils and checked the stallion; the fluffy was out cold, and though Nigel found a pulse, he got no response from prodding the fluffy or waving his fingers in front of its eyes. ‘Hmm, you’re right. Well,’ Nigel resumed carving the roast, ‘with any luck, he’ll come to later.’


‘Yes Lilith?’

‘Can Wiwif take off swetah nao?’


‘WAI?! WAAII!!?!’ The stallion struggled against the restrains with his two good legs. ‘WAI MUNSTAH MAKE FAMIWY INTU NUMMIES!?!? HACHEW!! HACTHEWHUHUHU!!!!!’

‘It was the most practical use for them,’ Nigel prepared what he needed for the surgery. ‘You were useless to them; without the use of your rear legs you couldn’t play with your foals, let alone find food for them.’ Nigel placed the surgical tools in the order he’d need them. ‘You also lost the ability to mate with your special friend. Really, neither of you were any good to the other.’


‘Suppose, for example, I took you all to a shelter; you would have euthanized on the spot, your special friend sold to a mill and your babies separated and maybe sent to good homes. Like it or not, the end of your family was inevitable.' Nigel stood over the restrained stallion. ‘Instead, they spent their last weeks in comfort and safety, at my expense I might add. What're a few minutes of suffering against that?'


‘Oh why do I even try?' Nigel opened the valve on the gas bottle under the table and held the mask in front of the Stallion's face. ‘Take a deep breath for me.’

‘REEEEEEE! *GASP* REEEeeeuwwwww…’ The stallion quickly succumbed to the anaesthetic and passed out.

Nigel strapped the mask in place and turned on another of his playlists; as he shaved away the thick layer of fluff from his planned incision sites, Nigel hummed along with hard nose the highway.


The Stallion’s sleep was dreamless, and he perceived it as lasting a few moments. When he came to, his mind was foggy, sight even more so. It didn’t take long however for a shot of adrenaline to wake him out of his funk.

NEE RUN WAY his inner voice screamed. He willed his body to action, but nothing happened; not one muscle responded to his command. WAI NU MOVE!?! NEE RUN WAY He tried as hard as he could, but the stallion's body simply wouldn’t obey. WAT HAPPENIN?!?! WAI NUTING WORK!??! HELP FLUFFY!!!! MUMMAH!!!

The stallion saw the door nearby open and focused his eyes on it; they were one of the few things he had command over. SCREEEEEEEE!!! MUNSTAHHH!! Nigel walked over to the table.

‘Ah good, you pulled through.’ Nigel petted the stallion.


‘I suppose you want to know why you can't move. You see, Lilith doesn't like to be alone and needs company while I'm not here. Unfortunately, her last companion died some weeks ago.' Nigel checked the sutures. ‘Since I didn't have anything else to do with you, I took the liberty of paralysing the rest of your body, as well as removing the parts you have no for anymore; legs, gentiles, that sort of thing.'


‘Now, let's get you to your new home.' Nigel picked the paralysed stallion off the table and carried him to Lilith safe room. He put the fluffy on a small bed a few feet away from Lilith's bed. ‘And this where you'll live until, well,' Nigel thought. ‘It's always difficult to guess, but I think you'll have another 2 or 3 years. Now then,' Nigel left the safe room but returned moments later with Lilith; for the first time, the stallion saw her wings.


‘Am dat nyu huggie fwend Daddeh?’

‘Of course sweetie.’ Nigel said. ‘What do you think?’

Lilith trotted over and hugged the stallion. SCREEEEEEE!! NUUUUUUUUU!!!!

‘Wiwif wub dis huggie fwend Daddeh!’ Lilith said. ‘Am bestest huggie fwend!’

‘I’m glad you like it’ Nigel said. ‘But I’ve got something else for you.’ Nigel left the room again and came back with a basket. ‘Come over here.’ Nigel waked to Lilith’s bed and pulled out some huggie toys, four in total. ‘Now you get to sleep in a fluff pile.’

BAAAABEEEEEEHHHHSSS!!! The stallion wailed in his mind when he recognised the colour of the pelts.

‘Wiwif wub yu Daddeh!!’ Lilith crawled on top of the pile of toys and clutched the grey one to her chest. ‘Wub nyu huggie toys! Tank yu Daddeh!’


‘You’re welcome sweetie,’ Nigel tussled Lilith’s mane. ‘Now Daddy needs to go to work early tomorrow, but I’ll be sure to feed you and your huggie friend before I leave.’

‘Otay Daddeh. Wiwif nu wowwies, hav huggies toys and huggie fwend gain!'

‘That’s my girl. Alright,’ Nigel stood. ‘It’s time you went to bed. I’ll see you in the morning Lilith.’

‘Otay. Gudnite Daddeh!’

Nigel turned off the light and closed the door. In the glow of the nightlight, Lilith dragged a couple of her new huggie toys over to the stallion's bed and settled into her makeshift fluff pile. ‘*Yawn* Wiwif su sweepies,' she rested her head on the stallion's back. ‘Gudnite huggie fwend.' Soon after Lilith fell asleep, unlike the stallion. The poor creature stayed wide awake, tears pouring from his eyes, sounded by dolls made from the pelts of his dead children, and with the knowledge he caused all of it.



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Anonymous1: >not converting it into a litter-pal
almost perfect 9/10
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Anonymous2: 10/10 fucking nice mate.
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Vanguard: @Anonymous: Litter-pals only last a few months at most, this fluffy will suffer potentially for years.
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CwinicawDepwession: Hot coffee and some cold abuse is a great way to start the morning. Hope you post again soon my man.
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Anonymous3: @CwinicawDepwession: you're damn right man

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Anders_Breivik: Damn good! Why all those typos in the dialogue between Greg and Nigel?
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megatek: I wonder if Nigel took the stallions tongue and teeth for safety reasons
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Anonymous4: Very good.

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Hugboxing_Faggot: >gentiles

Oy vey!

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differential_Sloth: @Anders_Breivik: I don't see any.

@Hugboxing_Faggot: Oops.
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Anonymous5: @megatek: I'm guessing that the stallion's mouth has been glued shut, like a similar story where a guy paralysed a smarty as a toy for his daughter. Also guess that the paralysis includes his neck so that he can't thrash around. Can't think of any other way he could hurt Lilith after that.
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Anonymous6(5): ‘Can Wiwif take off swetah nao?’

Best part of the story.
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NottooFluf2: Oh the typos, everybody's nemesis. Cool story but, correct me if I'm wrong, wasn't Lilith pregnant or did miss a story about it?
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NottooFluf2: Sorry, I wasn't clear, what I wanted to ask is, where are the spawns?

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differential_Sloth: @NottooFluf2: I'll accept gentiles when I meant genitals, but I don't know what Anders means when he said Greg and Nigel's dialogue had a bunch of typos.

This story takes place before Lilith's Babies.
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Fluffnut: Well damn, that went gloriously brutal. 10/10, love every bit of it.
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Anonymous7: 10/10 perfect, love the psychological abuse

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Ramennoodles: 100/10 omg i loved it so much
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Anonymous8: ‘Air quality isn’t nonsense Greg,’ Nigel said. ‘Air pollution reeks havoc on human health;'

It's "wreaks" | reeks = smells strongly

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differential_Sloth: @Anonymous: Well shit, guess I dropped the ball proof reading wise.

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babbehteef: Also, alfalfa instead of "alphalpha".
Nevertheless, 10/10, would rise this roller coaster again.