A series of short stories 2 (By: Jackie22)

A little smarty

Midsummer. The hot sun beams down on the concrete. Inside an abandoned construction site, a crying fluffy cries out to her smarty in desperation.

“Nuuuuhuuuhuuuuu! Pweeze smawty fwen!”

This sort of anguish was a daily occurrence. The absurd demands of their new smarty were just as cruel as those of their last.

“Shaddup! Dummeh mawe shaddup NAO!”

He had taken the herd after the death of their last smarty. His predecessor’s foolish decision to give sorry poopies to a human resulted in his neck being broken with a brutal kick. In reality, the human had simply kicked it in self defense, after he had idiotically declared his intention to shit on them well before actually doing so. A trite death for a fluffy, though perhaps they were all trite by now…

“Pweeze smawty fwen! Babbehs nee’ miwkies!” Another mare cries.

Her bony foals whimpered with hunger and fear. It had been days since they last fed, and their deaths were quickly approaching. A common enough death for foals. Beyond trite. They hadn’t fed in days, their mother too paralyzed by fear of her smarty to feed them. Though her fears are hardly justified. If she wanted to be free of her smarty, all she would have to do is take a single, heavy step…

“Smawty nu cawe! Dummeh mawe nu gif miwkies tu dummeh babbehs! Aww miwkies am bewong tu smawty babbeh!”

The fat foal screamed at sobbing mare. Their new tyrant was nothing more than a foal! A smarty foal. At the end of the day it seemed, fluffies just couldn’t beat their instinct to follow smarties. Even if they were just fat little tyrants they could crush with a single stomp…

“Toughies!” The smarty yelled.

“Huu… Sowwy mummah-fwen…”

The toughies pin the mare down on her stomach, exposing her teats.

“NU! NU STEAW MIWKIES! PWEEZE!”

“SHADDUP!”

The fat foal waddles up to the mare and begins to drink. He gulps the milk down greedily, depriving the other two foals of the little sustenance there was.

“PWEEZE SMAWTY-FWEN! BABBEHS NEE’ MIWKIES! BABBEHS GON HAF FOEVAH SWEEPIES IF NU HAF MIWKIES!”

“Smawty babbeh nu cawe 'boud dummeh ugwy babbehs! Smawty babbeh am bestest babbeh! Dummeh oddah babbehs nu desewbe miwkies!”

“Nuuhuuhuuuuu! Pweeze!”

Once he’s finished with one, he goes to the other, draining the precious fluid from that one as well. The desperate and frantic screams of the mare go unheeded, and soon, she’s emptied of milk. The toughies release her when the smarty leaves.

“Peep! Mummah… Nee’ miwkies…” A foal whined, weak with hunger.

“Huuuuu… Mummah sowwy babbeh. Mummah nu haf miwkies fow babbehs…”

“Huuuhuuuhuuu!” Cried the foals.

“Pweeze nu cwy babbehs… Mummah sowwy… Mummah… Uhuuhuuhuuuuu!” The mare cried.

“Bestest Babbeh wan miwkies?” A different mare asked.

“Nu. Babbeh fuww. Nu nee’ mummah’s miwkies.” the foal said.

“Otay babbeh.” The mare said, walking over to her foals and feeding them happily.

The smarty looked at his brother and sister eagerly nursing from their mother with disdain. Those were his milkies. The only reason he let them drink was because they were his siblings. Otherwise they would be starving as well.

“Smawty fwen…” One of the toughies muttered.

“Hewd nee’ nummies…”

“Wha? Nu cawe boud dummeh nummies! Dummeh fwuffies fin nummies! Babbeh wan miwkies!”

“Buh… Nee’ nummies fow make miwkies… Maybe smawty fwen find nummies?”

What was this dummy talking about? Finding nummies was a job for big fluffies, not little babies! Why would he need to go looking for nummies? What a stupid fluffy…

But wait, if he had more nummies, he could get even more milkies! Then he would have all the milkies, but even more! He just needed more nummies. Where did nummies come from? The foal stressed his 4 day old brain…

Humans of course! All he had to do was find a human, and they would give him all the nummies he wanted! That was a plan that couldn’t go wrong! Why were the other fluffies hiding in this scrap heap when they could just ask humans for nummies? Dumb. He guessed they just weren’t as smart as he was.

“Smawty babbeh am gon get mowe nummies fow hewd!”

“Weawwy?” One of the toughies asked.

“Yay! Bestest babbeh am bestest smawty!” His mother cheered! The other mares were still crying. One of the stallions was carrying an emaciated foal out of a burrow. It was dead.

“Babbeh am gon get nummies fwom hoomin!”

The herd fell silent. Even his mother was lucid for a moment…

“S… Smawty fwen…” One of the toughies started.

“Hoomins… Fwuffies shud nu boddew hoomins…”

“Shaddup dummeh!” The foal yelled, puffing his little cheeks out at the toughie.

“Smawty babbeh am gon fin’ bestest nummies cause smawty babbeh am bestest smawty! Dummeh toughie shaddup!”

“Yay! Babbeh am bestest babbeh! Gon’ get all da nummies fow bestest mummah!” His mother yelled. Looks like she’s bought it. The rest of the herd has not.

The fat foal waddled out into the street as the terror stricken herd hid from sight. They didn’t want any part of this. Except his mother of course. She was front and center.

Once on the concrete, he began to harass passers by. One human walked by on her phone.

“Dummeh hoomin gif nummies nao!”

The human looked down at him in disgust and walked around him. Likely only to avoid staining her shoes.

“Wha!? Wha’ dummeh hoomin doin’!? Gif nummies!” The foal screamed, outraged by the human’s insolence.

He waddled after her at top speed, which got him a few inches, but she had already covered twice his body length in a single stride. It was hopeless.

With a growl, he turned around again, waiting for another human to come by. Hopefully this one would be smarter.

Soon, a human with a bag on it’s back and a big round black thing around it’s head came by. Some kind of noise was coming from the black thing, and it was covering his ears, so the smarty decided to yell extra loud this time.

“DUMMEH HOOMIN GIF NUMMIES NAO!”

The human didn’t stop, nor even look down. He just kept walking ahead as if he hadn’t heard the smarty’s booming voice. He was ignoring him too! That was it! He was really angry now! He went out into the human’s path…

“Take sowwy poop-”

CRUNCH

The human’s foot landed squarely on the foal’s body. It’s little fluffy form dissapearing under the enourmous rubber structure.

“B- Babbeh!?” The mare said.

“What? Aw fuck…” The human said, thinking he had stepped in shit.

He lifted his foot to see what was under it, and sees the red stain.

“Nuu huu huuuu! Babbeh nuuuuuuu!!!” The mare screamed.

“Oh, it was just a shitrat. Thank god.”

The human scraped his shoe on the concrete to get the worst of the gore off, then kept walking ahead, disappearing from the lives of the herd forever.

“Pweeze nu be sweepies babbeh! Uhuuhuuhuuuu!”

The mare cried and tried to pick up her foal, but it was no use. Her hooves were too thick and the foal was thoroughly flattened. She couldn’t get him off the walkway.

The other fluffies looked at each other. Nobody knew what to do now that the smarty was gone. Then suddenly, a voice rang out from behind them.

“Babbeh’s tuwn! Babbeh wan be smawty nao!” A foal yelled enthusiastically.

“Babbeh am smawty 'gain?” One of the toughies asked in fear.

“Yus! Babbeh wan be smawty! Babbeh am smawty nao! Yay! Fank ou toughie fwen!” The foal cheered.

The other fluffies looked at each other in despair. The new smarty was a foal as well… There weren’t going to be any nummies any time soon were there?

Well, it didn’t matter. Once the food dries up, so will the milk. Regular operations would just resume once all the foals were dead.

No big deal, in the grand scheme of things.


Candid Reactions

You’re Candy, and you’re a fluffy! And you’re working hard! You’ve spent all day finding nummies for your babbehs! It took a long time to find enough nummies, because you have a lot of babbehs. You have your old babbehs, and your new babbehs! Your new babbehs drink milkies, but your old babbehs are too big for milkies and need nummies. Gathering it all up was hard work, but you found some nice grassies and a bunch of pretty flowers too! All your babbehs are going to eat well today! You turn the corner to your nest. Then you hear screams. “Nuu! Pweeze nu huwt fwuffies! Nu wan! Nu wan!”, “SCREEEEEEE! SEE PWACE OWWIES!!! UHUUHUUHUUUU!!!”

Nothing unusual. Hearing fluffies screaming was an every day occurrence. There was always some doggie munstah or birdie munstah or kitty munstah or even human munstah that was hurting fluffies. Most humans didn’t even spare a glance when they heard them. As for you, the sounds used to scare you a lot when the humans first kicked you out of the babbeh place. But then you found a herd, and even a special friend! Things were good for a while, but one day, a human monster came by when your herd was eating nummies. She started saying that you were in her “yard” and she wanted you out, but the smarty stood up to her, and told her that the herd needed the nummies, and she needed to go away! And the human actually left! She went around the side of the housie and disappeared from view! Everyone was really impressed with your smarty! Until the human came back with a green thing…

You don’t really remember what happened after that. Your smarty started yelling again, but then the human made a bunch of water appear and splashed his face! The whole herd screamed and tried to tell her that water was bad for fluffies, but she wasn’t listening. All the fluffies ran away after the smarty slumped down gurgling, but she had already started on the rest. You know that the smarty got forever sleepies, but you don’t know what happened to the other fluffies. When you were done running, they were all gone. And so were most of your babbehs. You had biggest saddies for a long time after that…

Now, you’re alone. Your big babbehs are talkie babbehs now, and your tummeh babbehs came out a while ago, but it was hard to find enough nummies for them all. Sometimes your babbehs cry about their tummy owwies. That gives you even more heart hurties. The screaming is louder now, and it seems… Familiar? It’s… It’s your babbehs! You run as fast as you can around the last corner!

There you see a big brown form thrashing around above your nest, and your babbehs… There’s so much boo boo juice… This can’t be happening…

“NU! NU HUWT BABBEHS!” You scream, but the monster ignores you. It just keeps hurting your babbehs. Their screams are slowly starting to die off. You waddle at full speed towards the monster, unsure of what you’ll do when you get there.

You scream all the way there, but the monster, which is now clearly a dog, has plenty of time to give your babbehs forever sleepies, owing to your slow speed. It’s already eating your talkie babbeh when you finally show up. You scream to it:

“NU! NU PWEEZE! NU MOWE! PWEEZE NU HUWT BABBEHS NU MOWE! UHUUHUUHUUUUUU!!!”

You dive down on top of the ruined remains of your talkie babbeh, all that’s left of her is her upper body and most of her head, with her jaw missing. Hers is the most intact corpse. The rest are mere chunks of meat and strips of fluff. Broken bones and saliva. You curl up on top of her remains defensively, staring up at the monster with tears in your eyes.

The doggie munstah steps back and starts barking!

BARK BARK BARK! BARK!”

It settles into a low growl, staring ahead at you purposefully. It’s eyes train on your throat. You realize that this is the end. You close your eyes.

“CUT!” A voice rings out!

The doggie munstah backs away and looks at an approaching human. He’s too late. Why didn’t he save your babbehs? You can’t speak, you can’t thank him or curse him. You’re still paralyzed.

“Zander, what the fuck dude.” The human says.

“What? What’s wrong?” Another human says.

“The dog has it’s collar on!”

“Yeah, so what?”

“It’s supposed to be a stray dog. If people see the collar, they’re gonna know this shit’s fake. We need to capture candid reactions.”

“Just because the dog’s collar is on doesn’t mean it’s not stray…”

“Yeah, but look at how clean it is! It would have had to run away just today! Nobody’s gonna believe that!”

“Yeah, I guess so. Shit. Now what?”

“We gotta find another burrow and stake it out.”

The human beckons to the dog, and it responds. It runs over to the human’s side, where the human strokes it’s head and calls it a good boy. The human is the doggie munstah’s daddeh!

“Aww shit, really? This is gonna take all day!”

“Well we need some film for the videos, and they need to look legit. Dude’s offering 200 bucks for legit-looking footage of shitrats getting mauled by a dog.”

“Argh, fine! Lets-”

“Why!?”

The humans look at you, annoyed that you interrupted their conversation.

“Why wet munstah huwt babbehs!? Am jus’ widdwe babbehs! Mummah nee’ babbehs! Why! Huu huu huuuuu!!!” You scream, tears streaming down your fluff.

The humans stare ahead at you until you finish yelling, then turn to each other.

“Cmon Ajax, lets go!”

Woof!” The doggie munstah goes back to you and takes your talkie babbeh right out of your arms! It runs back to the human with her in it’s mouth!

“Nu! Nu take babbeh! Gif babbeh back! Pweeze!” you scream, chasing the munstah at full speed. It easily outruns you.

The humans and the doggie munstah leave, abandoning you with the torn apart and chewed up remains of your life.

You waddle out of the alleyway and look for them, but they’re long gone. You’ll never see them again, you know it. Monsters never come back, except when they do.

You go back to your nest. All that remains are smashed organs and splintered bones. Not enough of your babbehs to even give huggies. You fall down in front of their corpses.

“Mummah sowwy babbehs… Su sowwy fow nu sabe babbehs…”

You curl up and shut your eyes hard. You miss your chirpie babbehs. You miss your talkie babbehs. You miss your special friend. You miss your herd. You even miss the babbeh place, even though the humans there didn’t want you.

You lay there in the alley, alone. Unneeded. Unwanted.

Later on, you hear more fluffies screaming, saying the same things as your own babbehs. But you don’t pay it any mind.

It was an every day occurrence, after all.


Ginger gets babbehs!

“Wan babbehs! Wan babbehs!” A yellow and red fluffy chanted, bouncing up and down in the front seat of a car. The plastic sheet crackled as she writhed around on top of it.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re there now. You’ll get your babies soon.” Her owner said, steering her car into the parking spot in front of a small storefront.

“Yay! Wub babbehs! Gingeh su escited! Gingeh wan wots ob babbehs!”

“We already agreed that you would get four. Now get in the carrier. We need to go inside.”

“Otay mummah!” Ginger said, readying herself for the small space she was about to squeeze into.

The human loaded her into the carrier and pulled herself and her fluffy out of the car. The car let out a honk as she locked it’s doors, and soon she was inside the store with her eager fluffy in tow.

“Hello, welcome. Do you have an appointment?” The receptionist says.

“Yeah, for 4pm. I think the tracking number was like, 157287 or something.”

“Okay, I see you here. Head right on in. We’re already ready for you.”

The woman carried her fluffy into the next room, a chorus of “Babbehs! Babbehs!” coming from the plastic box in her grip. There she came upon a man writing on a clip board.

“Oh, are you here for the 4 'o clock appointment?” The man says.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Perfect, just let her out on the table and we’ll put her under.”

A couple of latches released and soon the fluffy was standing on a table with raised edges. She walked up to the man.

“Hewwo nice mistah! Gingeh wan babbehs! Mummah say hoomins hewe gif babbehs! Nice mistah gif babbehs tu Gingeh?”

“I sure will fluffy! I just need you to put this little mask on your face.” He affixes the mask to the fluffy’s face, strapping it down tight. Her fluff bulges around the elastic bands holding it in place, but the man is certain that the seal is secure.

Once that’s done, he goes to the tank and twists the handle. A whistle escapes the tank as new air floods in to replace the escaping gasses.

“Nu smeww pwetty!” Says ginger. The man comes by to pet her head.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, that’s the babbeh smoke! Make sure you breathe it all in so that you can have nice, healthy babbehs!”

“Weawwy? Yay! Gingeh wiww smeww aww babbeh smeww!” The fluffy declared excitedly.

Soon, the gas did it’s work. Though Ginger tried to fight it, she was becoming sleepier and sleepier. She tried to stay awake so that she could see her babies come, but whenever she smelled the gas, she got more sleepy. Eventually, she was overwhelmed, and sunk down into a deep slumber, muttering about babbehs.

“Excellent, the gas is working perfectly. Do you want her fixed while she’s here? We can do that too for a small fee.”

“Oh no, she was already spayed when I bought her. I didn’t know that anesthetic worked on fluffies though.”

“Oh no, this is just knock-out gas. She’d wake right up if we did any surgery on her, but we’d keep her restrained and blindfolded during the process. She’d never know what happened. I think alenix was working on something like that, but they’ve been hitting some snags. Fluffy nervous systems are really hard to deal with. Regular drugs are just too dangerous.”

“Yeah, she was crying hard when I got her. They only had her in the room for a minute or two. They must be really fast to spay a fluffy that quick, but without anesthetic, she probably still remembers the whole thing…”

“Hmm. Yeah. Okay, I’m going to get the foals now, just stay here for a minute or two. And leave the gas line on, it needs to be a continuous flow in order to keep her sedated.”

The man left the duo and walked into the back room. He went to the end of the hallway and entered another room where cages were stacked all the way to the ceiling. The fluffies inside were all lying down. Around half of them were crying, the others were either sleeping or watching the small TV on the table across from them. None of them looked particularly happy, but there were worse fates for a fluffy…

He walked up to cage number 28, and took out a heavily pregnant mare.

“Eeek! Nu upsies! Upsies bad fow tummeh babbehs!” The fluffy cried, but she was ignored.

The man put her legs into an immobilization frame and strapped her into it. The small plastic container was originally meant for use when bathing particularly skittish fluffies. Their natural aquaphobia didn’t help when it came to keeping clean, as one could observe in any ferals they walked by, but the holes held their legs in place all the same.

Here, the frame served a dual purpose. It would assist with baths yes, the few that the mares here got, but it would also help keep the mares in place when it came time to collect.

“Nu! Pweeze! Nu take babbehs! Babbehs nee’ stay in mummah! Babbehs nu weady!”

“We’ve been over this. The foals will be fine. Now here, eat the parsley so that we can get on with this.” The man said, putting a small dish of the herb in front of the mare’s mouth.

“Nu! Nu smewwy pwetty nummies am bad fow babbehs! Bad fow speshow pwace! Nu wan!” The fluffy yelled.

“Do you want the sorry stick then?” The man retorted.

“N- Nu! Nu huwties! Buh… Jus… Jus nu take babbehs! Babbehs nee’ mummah! Nu take babbehs 'way ‘gain! Tu widdwe! Babbehs am stiww jus tummeh babbehs! Nee’ stay wif mummah! Pweeze!”

The man took a stick off the wall. He pressed down on the trigger, and a series of sharp clicks came out of the end of it. The mare cringed as she heard the familiar sound.

“Last chance. Eat the parsley or we do this the hard way.” The man said, brandishing the crackling stick.

“Nu! Pweeze! Nu-”

The fluffy’s protests are cut short by the prod jabbing into her flesh, right above the shoulder. The human depresses the trigger, sending waves of fiery pain through the mare’s body.

“Screeeeeee! Huu huu huu huuuuuu!”

“Eat the parsley or you get more.”

“Pweeze! Babbehs-”

The human pressed the trigger down again, not waiting to hear her rebuttals.

“Screeeeeeeeeee! Screeeeeeeee! Uhuuhuuhuuuuu!”

The human twisted the stick in, trying to get a better connection.

“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

With one final scream, the mare’s water finally breaks. Amniotic fluid quickly leaks out onto the table.

“Nu! Babbehs! Nu come out! Nu weave mummah!”

Her protests are in vain. The first foal begins crowning immediately as the man puts on a pair of gloves and retrieves some padded containers.

Soon, all of the foals are out. The placenta follows soon after, and the exhausted mare slumps down in her restraints. The human takes them and and begins appraising them.

“Hmm. 3 over. Looks like they’re all fine.”

The man puts all 7 of the foals in the padded box. As he does so, the mare rises again, pleading with the human.

“Wait! Wait… Whewe take babbehs?”

“To a new mummah or daddeh of course. They’re going to be very happy from now on.” The man said, removing her from the container and putting her back in her cage.

“Pweeze… Wet mummah see babbehs… Jus wan see babbehs…” The mare mutters.

“Whatever, fine.”

The man puts the box in front of the cage bars. Close enough for the mare to see, but not to touch.

“Huuu… Mummah wub babbehs… Pweeze haf wots of happies wif nyu mummahs an daddehs… Mummah wiww awways wub ou… Huu huu huu…”

“Very good. I’m sure they’ll all be very happy with their new owners. Don’t worry.” The man says.

He walks out of the room and into the hallway. Before he gets back to the operating room, he grabs three of the foals out of the container and throws them in the bio-waste bin. There were too many.

“Alright, I’m back. Let’s wake her up.” Says the man as he enters the room.

The human removes the mask and cuts the flow of gas. He places the chirping foals behind the fluffy and waits. Soon, she begins to stir.

Yawn Mummah?”

“Look Ginger, your babies came!” The woman says.

“B- Babbehs? Whewe!? Wan see babbehs!” Shouts ginger, revitalized by the prospect of babies.

She turns around to see four newborn foals, chirping fitfully.

Gasp BABBEHS! Wub babbehs!”

She goes up to them, picking them up in her hooves and licking them clean. She sniffs them all while she’s doing it as well.

“Perfect, thank you. She wouldn’t stop begging for babies ever since she saw them in the park. I was seriously getting fed up with it all.”

“No problem. You have a nice day now, and remember to keep an eye on her with those foals. Make sure she doesn’t sleep on them or something. You’ll have your hands full with 3 foals.”

“Don’t you mean four foals?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. She rejected one. That one over there. She put it aside and didn’t finish cleaning it.” The man points at the spurned foal. Chirping loudly and still half covered in amniotic fluid, a decent distance from Ginger and the rest of the foals.

“Ginger…”

“Fank ou fow gif babbehs mummah! Gingeh wub babbehs!”

“Ginger.” The woman said. Her voice was a bit heavier this time…

“W… Wha?” Ginger said. Her eyes darted to the rejected foal, but quickly darted back to her mummah…

“I told you that you had to take good care of all of your babies.”

“Y- Yus…”

“So what’s that?” The woman said, pointing at the neglected foal.

“Dat… Dat dummeh babbeh… Nu gud babbeh… Nu-”

“I told you, very clearly, that you were supposed to take care of your foals. You promised that you would, and Now that you’ve gotten them, you’re already neglecting one.” The woman placed the rejected foal back in front of Ginger. The fluffy turned it’s head away.

“Buh… Buh babbeh am bad! Nu smeww pwetty! Nu wan!” Ginger pleaded.

“I don’t care. We already-”

“NU! NU WAN!” Ginger yelled. She reeled up and knocked the foal away, sending it rolling across the table, chirping in pain!

“GINGER!” The woman yelled. Ginger froze.

“This isn’t an unheard of reaction. Sometimes mares will reject foals if there’s something they don’t like about them, Like a birth defect or something.” The man interjects.

“Is that why she’s acting like this? Because it’s malformed?”

“No, It’s fine, I checked it myself. She probably just doesn’t like it’s smell or something. They’ll also reject them if they don’t like their color or if they think they’re ugly, or whatever. Anything they don’t like really. Some of them can be really picky. Yours is just particularly bad.”

“So what? She’s just being a brat?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Worst reaction this week actually.”

“Oh my god. I’m not fucking dealing with this.” The woman said. She turned to face the recalcitrant fluffy…

“Ginger. Clean the foal.” The woman added, her voice icy.

“Nu-”

“Ginger, If you don’t clean that foal right now, we’re leaving all these babies here and going home without them!”

“Nu! Nu weave babbehs! Gingeh wub babbehs! Pweeze!”

"Then are you going to clean that foal?

“Yus!”

“And you’re going to take care of it and love it and be a good mother to it right?”

“Y- Yus…”

“Good. Clean it up. We’re leaving right after.”

Ginger walks over to the chirping foal, and with a wince, picks it up. She looks it over for a bit, then, finally, Ginger gingerly begins licking the foal clean.

“Good. Sorry about that. I don’t know what’s wrong with her today.”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

Once Ginger’s done, She puts the foal back down on the table and sits in place, staring down at it with dismay.

“Alright. Good. Get in the carrier.” The woman says. She loads ginger into the carrier and takes the container to put the new foals in. Once it’s all done, she begins to walk away.

“She’s not gonna do that you know.” The man says. The woman turns her head.

“Take care of it I mean. She has no intention of actually honoring that agreement. She was just saying whatever got her her babies.” The man adds.

“Doesn’t matter. She will. I’ll make sure of it.” The woman says, begining to walk away.

“What if she kills it?” The man asks. The woman stops.

“Ginger wouldn’t do that.” The woman says.

“She’s probably gonna kill it. That or ‘lose’ it. It happens a lot.”

“She won’t kill it!” The woman says.

“What are you going to do if she does? Still gonna keep her around?” The man asks.

The woman looks at her fluffy.

“I don’t know.” She says.

The woman takes her things and leaves the store.

The man didn’t worry. Though he knew that ginger was going to do something heinous, the woman still had 3 other fluffies now. It didn’t matter.

What’s one more stray on the street?


24 Likes

These are always so good. Specially liked the middle one, so apathetic I could feel it.

3 Likes

A true gentleman.
Good idea for placating spayed fluffs, but why exactly 4 babbehs?

2 Likes

The owner asked for that amount before the appointment. Any more would have been more than she wanted. Remember, her and the fluff were talking about it like it had been planned in advance.

3 Likes

But one less?
Seems less of a bother, as well: but then again, she did the clinical thing instead of getting a new fluff, so she might be something of a perfectionist?

2 Likes

Well, the fluffy was spayed upon purchase, and yet was still begging for babbehs. She didn’t want to deal with it, but the owner cared about her fluffy. Believed in her fluffy. In the idea that it was a good natured creature at heart. She thinks this rejection of the foal is a momentary tantrum and nothing more, not the subtle up-welling of roiling darkness that stirs beneath the soft and huggable exterior of Ginger. She’s bought into the idea of a creature of pure love, not realizing that the fluffy idiosyncrasies she was witnessing were the result of marketing committees and cutting edge biology, not the natural demeanor of a genuinely good natured being.

The true nature of the creature known as Ginger is about to be revealed, and All her hopes and expectations are about to be crushed under a spattering of foal innards, but I still haven’t decided if we’re going to be around to see it.

4 Likes

My apologies: my reading was careless, & failed to catch the subtleties of their relationship.
It does whet my appetite for a prequel, though. Then again, it would break up the short story format.

1 Like

Nice shorts

Man the lil smarty is hilarious and the herds are dumb as fuck well they gonna be dead soon.

For ginger was really sad I was expecting to have her some dead foals when the doctor have the mare gived birth forcefully to loose Ginger wanting foals.

Worst without even a proper mother training it will get worst for those foals is she was spayed how she gonna give milk? It leaves readers for “impending worst case scenarios” on it.

Nicely done shorts :+1:

2 Likes

Yeah, what are Ginger’s foals going to eat? Either formula or induce lactation? I really hope it isn’t the latter as in my headcanon shooting up a spayed mare with lactation hormone is a really great way of getting her derped/paralysed/vegetative/dead from calcium deficiency.

2 Likes