Your name is Caiden. About an day ago, your sister Mabel found a mare. She was paralyzed and sobbing to herself, but Mabel told you she gave her some kibble from work and put her back in her box to wait for you. Pulling up with your truck, you walk into the specified alleyway to hear the sounds of sadness.
“Huu… wai nice wady nu cum bak…”
There she is. Bending down to her box, you pick her up. Can’t give her proper ‘upsies’ due to the fact that she wont even get into the pose.
“Huuu… nice mistah?”
“Hey there. I’m the “Nice Wady’s” brother. I’m here to take you to a new home.”
“Nice Mistah? Nyu daddeh? Pwease hewp fwuffy…”
“Don’t worry girl, I’m taking you somewhere safe. But were gonna need a looong talk if I’ll be your new dad.”
Her eyes focus on something behind you, and terror washes over her previous joy. You quickly outstretch your arms.
“MUNSTAH! MUNSTAH! SCREEEEEEE! SABE FWUFFY!”
Your face scrunches up in disgust as she shits everywhere while flailing her head. Seems that she really is paralyzed. You look back and see… nothing. Hm. Guess she must’ve seen a rat. Whatever, you take a wipe out of your pocket to clean up the mess on her fluffy, and load her up in a carrier and take her to a nearby friend.
. . .
You take her to Janet, a fluffy vet who will do free checkups and treatments for you (as long as she gets a cut of the sold fluffies). You knock on her door, hoping she’s home.
“One second!”
Footsteps reach your ears as the mare continues to sob about a monster. The door swings open.
“Hey! Oh, Caiden! Got a new arrival, I see.”
“Yep. Mare here, supposedly one of those ‘bestest babbeh’ mothers. Mabel found her yesterday. Paralyzed from the neck down.”
"Well, don’t just stand there. Come on, come in. I’ll get my tools ready. Just take her down to the basement.
You close the door behind you as you step down the stairs to get inside her homemade office. It’s funny, most basements nowadays are fluffy abusers torture chambers, but Janet made hers look like one of those kids doctor offices, with the stickers of rainbows and sealife. You take the mare out of the carrier and lay her down on the table. The steps creak slightly as Janet appears behind you. She talks to the mare.
“Hey there little fluffy, I’m here to help make sure you feel better!”
“Hewwo nice wady!” You hear her grunt as if trying to move over. “Huuu, nu can gif nice wady huggies…”
“Hey, hey! It’s okay! Let me get started.”
Janet pokes the mare in the side slightly, and she ‘eeps’ slightly at the touch.
“Wait, can you feel when I touch you?”
“Yesh, nice wady.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Janet pulls you aside for a moment. “Caiden, you realize that she wont be safe anywhere unless shes with the nicest fluffies in the world.”
“What? How? I think mine are well trained.”
“The term for this isn’t even Paralysis. It’s paresis. She’s unable to move any part of her body, but can still feel. If she’s put with very playful fluffies, they may get irritated that she can’t play and hurt her, and she could barely even fight back.”
You start weighing the options. You could give her to Mabel, but she’s out most of the day for work, and taking her to a daycare, with fluffies that are not guaranteed to accept her? Yeah, bad choice. Janet snaps you out of your thoughts.
“You said a Feral did this, right?”
“Uh- yeah. Mabel said she was talking about a ‘meanie fluffy’ and ‘munstah fluffy’. Can’t tell if that means it’s an alicorn or two fluffies, and ones an Alicorn.”
Janet sighs. “Look, whatever you’re doing now, should be ignored a bit. Because this fluffy clearly knows what they’re doing.”
“How so?”
Janet grabs a razor and it whirrs to life. “Hey little fluffy, I’ve gotta take a bit of your fluff away so I can make sure you’re fine. Alright?”
“Otay…”
She shaves off part of the fluff on its neck, and points to an obvious bite mark. “Look, right there. Fluffies usually attempt to go for the head, or sometimes the body, unless. Even fighter fluffies do that. But look, that bite is directly at the spine. This fluffy knows how to fight, and it’s not like others.”
Janet looks at you.
“You need to find this fluffy before he hurts any others.”
. . .
Your name is One-Eye. You don’t have a name, but the only things you’ve ever been called are Bestest Babbeh, Smawty Babbeh, Bwuddah, and Smawty, and you aren’t too keen on picking those as names. So why not just name yourself after your severely painful condition. You just had a talk with the creature you now dub “Soda Can” and are heading back to your box with a small herd. Your sister, a mare and her one baby. Yep, great herd.
You walk back, and of-fucking-course your sister is gone.
“Hey, you know where Seashell went?” The mare looks towards you.
“O’! Seasheww gu fin’ nummies.”
This can’t go too bad. Seashells like a metal detector with extra modes for blankets and food. You decide to sit down in the box as you begin to contemplate how you’ll manage with one eye.
“Smawty Fwend?”
“Yeah? What’s up?”
“Fwuffy jus’ wan knyo if Smawty Fwend was in hewd befow.”
You knew you had to explain this to her some day. Well, you just hope that she doesn’t decide to hate you after you explain that you were a ‘bestest babbeh’.
“Me and Seashell were in a herd. Pretty shitty one too. Our mom was the Smartys mate. Always thought of me as the bestest, and tried to hurt, kill or starve Seashell constantly. Had to save her more times than I can count.”
“Bu’ wai? Seasheww am nowmaw fwuffy.”
“That’s how you see it. I don’t really know myself, but I think I know why. Have you ever seen a fluffy with wings and a horn?”
“Uhhh… nu. Bu’ dat jus’ mean dat Seasheww am speciaw!”
“It probably does, but it probably means that she’s a one of a kind, in a bad way. They see her as a monster because she’s different from the other fluffies.”
“Dummeh.”
“What?”
“Seasheww am wingie pointie. Nu am bad. Fwuffies jus’ dummeh.”
“Yeah. Either way, it went on like that until we were able to eat food and not drink milk. When we did, we planned to escape. But some monster came in and killed them all. Ever since, a fluffy has been out to kill Seashell.”
She gasps. Then has a look of anger on her face. “Wha’ fwuffy wook wike?”
“Purple fur, green mane. His name is Berry. You should stay away from him.”
She nods. You sit in silence for a while until you hear clattering, followed by an “Owie!”. Wait, that was your trap. Shit, someone’s here. You tell the mare to stay put, and are about to leave when a voice stops you.
“EY! DUMMEH FWUFFY! GIF ENFIE MAWE BAK WIGHT NAO!”
Oh boy, this’ll be fun.
. . .
Your name is Seashell. You’re currently out looking for nummies, but you’ve been walking for a while now. You’ve been a bit scared of being alone due to what happened every time you went to look for food, but you feel confident now. You feel a lot better about yourself, and nothing will stop you from finding food. You find yourself near an alleyway, when suddenly a door opens. You nearly jump out of your skin, and whirl around to see an old human.
“Oh, hey there little fluffy. What’re you doing here? Looking for food?”
You silently nod.
“Well here ya go, I was gonna place this out for your kind either way! Looks like you got lucky!”
The human places down a bowl of… Sketties!? You had never seen them before, but something tells you they’re the best nummies ever! You thank the human, pick up the bowl and start walking back to your nest. Your new herd is gonna be so happy!
. . .
“And what the fuck do you want with her, huh?”
“Dummeh enfie mawe wun way, nee gud feews NAO!”
“How about you go fuck yourself instead?”
“Smawty fwen…”
You turn around. “Yeah?”
“Enfie Mawe wiww gu bak… nu wan nyu fwens tu git huwties…”
You lightly bop her on the nose. “I lost an eye for my sister. I think I can deal with this for you.”
She giggles slightly, and tears of joy form.
You turn back, ready to fight. “Who.”
“Wha?”
“WHO’S GOING FIRST?”
The smarty seems to be scared of you. It’s pathetic, one moment yelling at you to return his living fuck toy, the next pissing himself in fear.
“T-tuffie gu fiwst!”
A dark turquoise fluffy walks up. He’s slightly bigger than you, but you can tell you can win. You don’t really want to kill them, just set an example.
“Dummeh Fwuffy gunna wegwet dis. Tuffie gun mak’ yu gu fowebah sweepies!”
He blindly charges at you, screaming like that paralyzed mare. Unfortunately for him, you were slightly smaller. When he reaches you, you crouch down as far as you can go, and when his stomach is under you, you leap up will all your might, sending him flying.
“Dummeh fwuf-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” And lands with a sickening crack. “SCREE! WEGGIE OWWIES! HUUU HUUU PWEASE NU MOWE HUWTIES!”
Some other endless crying, shitting and sobbing. But you don’t care. He was easy to beat, but your eye was starting to hurt. The smarty didn’t take notice of it, and you swore you could see a small pile of shit forming behind him. A fluffy behind him nudges him. You hear mutters of “gu smawty! gif dummeh fowebah sweepies!”. It’s sad.
“D-DUMMEH FWUFFY! GI-GIF ENFIE MAWE BAK, OW SMAWTY GIF YU F-FOWEBAH SWEEPIES!”
“Then come get her.”
The smarty is also slightly bigger than you, but you can tell that the same trick won’t work. While he may be a fluffy, he isn’t that stupid. You start to think of a plan. Bah, forget it. Plans won’t help. Just make him suffer. Then you actually had a sickening idea. What if you paralyzed the smarty, and left him in the same place as the mare? Make the humans panic, even though it was all deserved. A cruel grin spreads on your face, as you pinpoint the exact spot you needed to crush. Same tactic. Dodge. Expose neck. Bite.
“REEEEEEEEEEEEEE! GUNNA GIF FOWEBAH SWEEPI-”
And there he goes. Fell for it again. You dodge to the right, and locate the exposed target. You dash forwards, and lock on with your jaws.
“OWWIE! WET GU OB SMARTY, DUMMEH FWUFF-”
CRUNCH
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! OWWIES! HEWP! MUMMAH! SABE BESTEST BABBEH!”
Wow. That’s all it took for him to be reduced to a sniveling mess, begging for his mother who he most likely killed. You bat him aside, ignoring the cry of pain, and yell back.
“This mare is in MY herd. All of you LEAVE! NOW!”
“Smawty, pwease wai’!”
The mare walks into the crowd as they part for her like the red sea. She finds a brown stallion, and brings him out.
“Dis am fwuffys onwy fwend in hewd… can fwuffy pwease stai?”
“Mis’ yu su mush fwen…”
You contemplate the idea for a second. Sure, why the hell not? Another addition, plus he’s a friend of hers, so you can assume that he might not be scared of seashell.
“Sure. Come here.” You hear faint cries of ‘poopie nummer cum bak!’ but ignore them. The toughie you fought only had a broken leg, so he limps over to the crowd. The ferals leave, and their smarty stays.
“Huu… sniff pwease meanie fwuffy, nu gif owwies… wiww be gud smawty nao…”
“Shut it. Your whining makes this harder.”
The mare is reuniting with her friend as you carry the limp smarty by the neck back to where the the mare was at. You plop him down and contemplate. This smarty raped your friend, and most likely many other mares. It’s time to fix that.
You go around to his back, and not even a few seconds later, the screaming began.
“Wha meanie fwuffy doin…SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! WUMPS! NU! HAFF HAFF NU HUWT SMARTY NU MOWE! PWEASE! NU MOW- SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! MUMMAH! chirp MUMMAH SABE BESTEST BABBEH! chirp”
. . .
Covered in blood, you return to your nest. It was getting annoying referring to your new herd members by their gender, so you decide something.
“Hey, you two. Come over here, I want to talk to you.”
“O’, hewwo nyu smawty! Wha nyu smawty nee’?”
“I want to give you two names. You will be Peanut. The mare will be Acorn.”
The two could not be happier. They keep thanking you and keep saying they’re so happy that you dealt with the smarty. But their cries of happiness are stopped as a scent wafts through the air.
“Sketties?”
You have no idea what those are, until about half a dozen memories flood through your mind. You really don’t want to get into them, the chorus of braindead babbling gave you a headache. You tell the two to stay put, and then your sister comes around the corner, holding a bowl of spaghetti. She drops it.
“Seasheww fin’ sketties fow hewd! Wai’, nyu fwen?”
“Hewwo nyu wingie pointie fwen! Am Peanut. Am Acown’s fwen!”
“Fwen hab namesies! Hewwo Acown!”
Their reactions are heartwarming, as you all devour the bowl of spaghetti and spend the rest of the day socializing. The herd is growing larger.
. . .
It’s night, and you were the only one awake. Not because of keeping vigil or anything, but because you knew you had to deal with a certain annoying soda can creature.
tktktktktk
God, did he have to choose the most annoying ways of notifying his presence? Whatever, you followed the noise, away from the nest. And lo and behold, there he was. Mister soda can.
“I guess it’s time for our nightly discussion?”
“Im skipping to the point. Why.”
“Why what?” You give him a shit eating grin.
“You know exactly why. Are you begging to have a human come and stomp your herd to death, while they nail you to a wall to watch?”
“Oh please, you and I both know that my talents could probably get me out of the situation, and it was for a good cause.”
“Yes, I do agree the fluffies were hurt for a good cause, but do you realize how much of an IDIOT you are being?”
“Only a bit.”
“You’re meant to be SMART. A literal smarty instead of a cowardly rapist. Yet here you are, practically inviting humans to come out with rifles searching for you.”
You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off.
“Beware, you may think you’re high and mighty now, but not all fluffies wish to hurt you directly.”
“I’m not done talking to you.”
Apparently he was. He vanished in the blink of an eye. Damn. You wanted to call him a soda can.
. . .
Your name is Mabel. Its been two days since you found that paralyzed mare, but Caiden assures you that she’s in good hands now. You’ve been keeping an eye on the alleyways whenever you walk to work, but today you found something. A stallion, sobbing to himself, sprawled out on the ground. Not again…
“Nice wady, pwease hewp… meanie fwuffy mak’ smawty’s weggies dumb an take wumps…”
Shit. You don’t even care that it’s a smarty, you could have valuable information. You call Caiden.
“Hey Mabel, what’s u-”
“Caiden. I found another paralyzed fluffy. A smarty, but it looks like the feral took his balls too. Poor bastard.”
“God, okay. Listen, I have a friend that does free health checkups and procedures on fluffies for me. I’ll give you the address. Go there.”
. . .
“Hello, my name is Mabel. I’m Caiden’s older sister.”
“Oh! Caiden told me you would be coming. He said you found another feral that was attacked by the same fluffy.”
“Yes. Can we go deal with this please? I’m going to be late for work.”
“Of course. Head down to the basement.”
. . .
Waiting in the basement, Janet comes down. After a minute or two of examinations and comforting the smarty, you begin to investigate.
“His testicles are done for, and the paresis won’t be fixed. He’s probably been so badly damaged he isn’t even a smarty now.”
“Alright, lets interrogate him.”
Janet walks over.
“Hey there little guy, we just got to ask you some questions about the fluffy that did this to you.”
“Otay nice wady…”
“Why did the fluffy hurt you?”
“Wus twying to git enfie mawe bak… enfie mawe wun way…”
You see Janet frown. “Do you still want this mare now?”
“Nu…”
“Didn’t think it was possible to make these fuckers revert.” You mutter to yourself.
Janet picks up on the conversation. “What did this fluffy look like?”
“Fwuffy haf owange an gwey fwuff, haf owwies in see pwace.”
So the fluffy is half-blind, and has an orange mane with grey fluff. Or the other way around. You decide that you’re going to take care of this yourself. You call your manager to let him know that you won’t be there today, and let him know why. He understands, but says to make sure that she gets it done right.
. . .
Your name is One-Eye. And when you woke up today, you didn’t expect to see a human staring at you. Shit. Guess soda can was right.
