Welcome to the world of Stuffed Haven, where plushies are more than just toys—they’re warriors, protectors, and survivors. In a post-apocalyptic world overrun by zombies, KoonKoon, Momo, and their brave band of stuffed animals have one mission: to protect the little ones and keep hope alive. But when whispers of a traitor within their sanctuary emerge, their fragile safety is shattered. Who can they trust? And who is the mysterious ‘Him’ pulling the strings from the shadows?

Join KoonKoon and his friends as they face dangers far greater than their stitched seams and button eyes were ever meant to handle. Adventure, mystery, and heart await in a story that will change the way you see stuffed animals forever.

Zombie Apocalypse Post # 1

Today on KLC’s The Fluffy Dead …

63 Days In: 800 hours

KoonKoon stirred, the soft rustle of his patched fur brushing against the tattered fabric beneath him. His eyes fluttered open, scanning the dim, gray light that filtered through the cracks in the ceiling. His chest tightened at the sight of the bare wooden walls, so different from the cozy, pastel room he once called home. For a fleeting moment, he could almost feel the plush warmth of his old bed, smell the faint lavender sachet tucked beneath his pillow. But the creak of a loose floorboard snapped him back to reality. This was not home. It would never be home again.

A sudden noise made KoonKoon spring to his feet, his button eyes darting toward the sound. His seams felt stretched tight, a reflex that had become second nature since the world turned upside down. He exhaled shakily, his paw brushing over the patch on his chest as if to steady himself. Dead humans eating stuffed animals—who could have imagined? Yet, buried deep beneath the fear, a flicker of guilty excitement stirred. It had once seemed like the kind of thing that belonged in a comic book, thrilling to imagine but terrifying to live.

No one knew exactly how it started, but when the madness took hold of the adults, the world spiraled into chaos. At first, they turned on each other, their glazed eyes and guttural snarls filling the streets. But soon, their hunger found a darker purpose. Tiny humans and their stuffed companions were left scrambling for survival, their screams lost in the night as monstrous figures loomed ever closer. Fear paralyzed many, and survival seemed impossible for those too small to fight back.

 

KoonKoon, however, refused to let panic win. While others cowered, he had a plan. Using Instagram, the lifeline of stuffed animals everywhere, he rallied his friends from every corner of the globe. What began as frantic messages and hastily shared ideas soon grew into an organized effort. They established safe houses and zones, gathering as many baby humans and stuffed animals as they could find. The first few weeks were utter chaos, filled with sleepless nights and too-close calls, but step by step, they built something stronger.

To KoonKoon, it felt like stepping into a nightmare ripped straight from one of his favorite stories. Zombies were terrifying enough, but the sight of towering humans, lumbering with grotesque intent, reminded him of Attack on Titan. For a human, the apocalypse meant dodging bites. For a stuffed animal, it meant watching the sky for the shadow of a filthy foot, ready to crush them in an instant. If he had to choose, KoonKoon figured he’d take being squished over being eaten, but only barely.

Adrenaline surged through KoonKoon, ripping him back to the present.  A sharp whirring filled his ears, his fur bristling in response. His paw twitched. He spun, wincing as the warped floor let out a groan beneath him.

         “KoonKoon relax! It’s just me,” Momo blurted, his voice shifting from surprise to reassurance in an instant.

         KoonKoon exhaled shakily, pressing a paw to his chest as his panic slowed. “Sorry, Momo, I- I’m still a little jumpy,” he admitted, heat creeping up his fur. His ears flicked as the wind rattled through the broken windowpane, sending a shiver down his stuffing. “I’m also rethinking my choice of shelter,” he muttered, eyeing the splintered beams above.

“How’s it looking below? Are we still with the herd?” KoonKoon asked, though doubt edged his voice.

Momo leaned into the shadows, eyes narrowing as he scanned for movement. After a tense pause, he turned back. “A few stragglers, but most of them have moved on.” He tugged at his jacket cuff, pawing at the fraying threads until they curled between his claws.

“We haven’t seen a herd like that in over a month…” KoonKoon murmured, eyes flicking toward the window. “What’s going on?”

The zombies didn’t seem to care much for the older stuffed animals, not unless one happened to get too close. But the little ones? The tiny humans and their smallest plush protectors? That is who they hunted. Maybe it was the size, or maybe the innocence. Either way, it had made them targets.

That was why KoonKoon and the others hadn’t stopped; not for a single day. Across countries and time zones, they worked in secret to protect the smallest survivors, sweeping them into safe zones before the monsters could close in.

The outbreak had spread fast. First the U.S., then beyond, until even distant radio stations crackled with news of the madness. No one really knew where it started. Maybe no one ever would.

“I don’t want to press our luck; let’s take advantage while the rain still gives us cover,” KoonKoon said. He licked his paw and waved it out the splintered window, adjusting as the frigid breeze ruffled his fur.

“Rope it is,” he sighed, casting one last longing glance at the covered porch that led straight to the Jeep.

“Unless you’re itching to roll in the mud again?” Momo asked, his jaw twitching with a grin.

“Never again!” KoonKoon chortled. “It took Mom a week to get me clean. I’d rather risk a rain walk to stay downwind than see that look on her face again,” he added with a shudder.

KoonKoon grimaced as his paws wrapped around the rain-slick rope. Water wicked into his seams, soaking deep into his fluff until he felt like a soggy cotton ball. Inch by careful inch, he descended, paws slipping and readjusting with every groan of the rope.

He landed with a soft plunk, his stuffing beans rattling on impact. Brushing himself off, he gave a tug to signal Momo’s turn. Moments later, Momo dropped down beside him with his usual flair, barely stirring a puddle.

“Let’s get going,” he said, wrinkling his snout. The moldy rope had left a rank odor clinging to his fur, mixing with the faint rot of the undead. His stomach turned.

Ten minutes later, both plushies were panting, soaked and exhausted as they finally reached the Jeep. 

The Jeep crept slowly, straining against the increased weight of its drenched cargo. “Biscuits! Why can’t we find a working vehicle with a roof?” KoonKoon cursed. He inhaled sharply and held his breath, releasing it slowly as he counted backward from ten. “I’m sorry little Jeep,” he said as he patted the passenger’s side door, smoothing the cracked vinyl peeling off the side. What would they have done without the little car? It might be slow, but when it came to supply runs, it was beyond comparison. Human vehicles were much too loud and the remaining fuel was better saved for Stuffed Haven’s emergency generators.  

“Do you think we should head back?” Momo asked uncertainly.

“Yeah, probably. We barely escaped that herd,” KoonKoon replied, squinting against the breaking dawn to peer into the back seat. At least stuffed animals didn’t have to worry about getting wrinkles, he thought with a wry smile, briefly amused by his morbid sense of humor. His brevity was short lived as his eyes settled on their meager haul. He sighed in disappointment. “We didn’t get much, but it’s too risky to go any further tonight.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Momo said, disappointedly. “But, at least we found a surprise for Sammy; I hate to see her having such a rough time.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Momo said quietly. “But at least we found something for Sammy. I hate seeing her so withdrawn.”

Tears stung KoonKoon’s eyes. The memory came uninvited, sharp and suffocating. The acrid smell of the closet flooded his senses. He could still hear the battered door creak as it opened, and feel the way fear had rushed out before Sammy ever made a sound.

She had been curled beneath a sweatshirt far too big for her, the sleeves swallowing her hands. When Mom lifted her gently into the light, her skin had felt cold. Too cold. KoonKoon remembered how Mom’s movements turned frantic then, how her voice softened even as her hands shook.

She could not have been more than six or seven. Hunger and silence had made her seem smaller. Younger.

They never would have found her if Mom had not insisted on one last sweep of the school, gathering books and supplies, anything that could bring life to Stuffed Haven’s schoolhouse.

Something about the building had felt wrong.

The halls, once loud with laughter, now seemed to hold their breath. Shadows pooled where joy used to live. They moved carefully, rolling their steps from heel to toe and avoiding janitor closets in favor of the cafeteria and classrooms, most importantly the books.

“Even in dark times,” Mom had whispered, “literacy matters.”

The burning lance of adrenaline ripped him from his memories before he had time to process the sound. He hit the asphalt with a hard plunk. His chest heaved as he dragged in air that felt too sharp, too cold. His eyes darted wildly until they locked onto a familiar shape nearby.

Momo was upright, swearing under his breath and clutching one paw. Still moving.

Relief crashed through KoonKoon so fast it left him dizzy. Pain flared through KoonKoon’s side. A sound clawed up his throat before he could stop it. He clamped his jaw shut. He pushed himself upright, limbs trembling as his paws scraped against the asphalt.

He took a careful step, paws testing the ground as if it might betray him again. The Jeep didn’t matter. His heart hammered so hard it blurred his thoughts. He forced himself to breathe, to listen.

A low groan rolled through the air.

Then the smell hit. Rot. Thick and unmistakable. The sound rose again, layered and wrong, a ghoulish chorus of death and decay.

His fur bristled. He counted once. Twice. His eyes narrowed on the nearest threat. On the putrid hands bigger than his torso. 

Creak. The wire bowed inward, rust flaking as hands shoved through the gaps. His jaw clenched. The sharp tang of blood filled his mouth.

KoonKoon’s gaze stopped darting. He pivoted swiftly, body coiling with purpose. Momo’s piercing eyes found him. He sprang gracefully onto the first defensive bell, landing exactly where he meant to. He hopped from bell to bell. The vibrations rattled through him, sharp enough to make him cringe. He peered back, smirking at the shuffling mob behind him. Then his paws slipped on the rain-slicked surface, his heart plummeting along with them. 

Dazzling light flared as the impact rattled his beans. He clawed shakily to his knees. Beyond the fence, Stuffed Haven glowed softly through the rain. 

A paw hooked under his arm, hauling him upright. KoonKoon looked up and met Momo’s eyes.

They turned together to face the encroaching horde.

“For the kids?” Momo growled.

“For the kids!” KoonKoon snarled.

 

Curious about what happens next? Stay tuned for the next chapter to find out how KoonKoon, Momo, and the others tackle the dangers ahead!
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