The day was January 8th. Winter had been in full blast ever since Global Warming was proven to be mythological much like the Tooth Fairy or France. This meant that in a northern state where Officer F-O-4 took up operation temperatures regularly rose above -5 degrees. He knew that in weather like this there would be many hungry ferals. More importantly however there were babbehs out there in need of miwkies.
As soon as the alarm in his station sounded though Officer F-O-4 knew it was his time to shine. He suited up in thick winter clothing, not knowing how long he would be out there. He hopped into his Milk-Truck and threw caution to the wind. Those babbehs needed miwkies and by god they were gonna get them.
“Buh Babbehs nee miwkies! Babbeh hungwy!” One of the foals cried to their mother. They had all drank plenty of miwkies, it was just that their mother usually let them have seconds.
“Siwwy babbeh, mummah nee eat mowe nummies to make mowe miwkies. Babbehs nu nee wait wong.” Buttercup said to her five precious foals.
“O-otay mummah. But babbeh hungwy…” The foal said.
Buttercup was glad that they found this abandoned basement to take shelter in. It kept them away from the cold and there were some moss nummies to munch on when she couldn’t find trashy nummies. Best of all it kept her safe from meanie mummahs and daddehs who’d hurt her babbehs. She could barely even hear the outside world. All she could hear was a very faint “Dat Babbeh nees miwkies” coming from the alleyway.
She felt bad for the mare who’s babbehs needed miwkies, but she was certain hers would be safe.
“Fuck! They’re locked in there. By god…if I didn’t arrive when I did they would’ve starved to death.” Officer F-O-4 said while looking at the six perfectly healthy fluffies. All of which were now asleep from what he could only assume was a way to ignore the hunger pangs.
The only access was a small hole big enough to fit the mare and her babbehs along with a barred up window. He’d have to go through the window, he was far too large to fit through the hole.
Officer F-0-4 went back to his van and hooked up the winch to the bars. He got back into his fan and then absolutely floored it in reverse. Despite the age of the structure the bars were strong. However with smoking tires and the bars quite literally being torn from the frame the window was torn open and Officer F-O-4 would have access.
You are buttercup and you have the biggest scawedies of your life right now. Your nice home is rumbling and you hear what you think is the screeching of the loudest fluffy you’ve ever imagined.
Each of your babbehs were huddling up to you for dear life in a fluff pile. Each of them had made bad poopies but that was the furthest thing from your mind at the moment. All you were thinking about is what you would do if that muntah fluffy got in.
You thought about running through the hole you got in by but none of your babbehs would be able to keep up. Worst of all you didn’t think you would be able to run away from a munstah fluffy that sounded that big. Instead you closed your eyes and hoped it would ignore you.
However with one final big crash you felt your heart nearly stop from fear. The cold wind from outside let you know that the munstah could get in now.
“Mother of god!” Officer F-O-4 said aloud, feeling his blood run cold at the sight before him.
He saw six fluffies huddled together shivering, each of them covered in their own excrement. Clearly the hole they used to get in and out was big enough to keep the area inside freezing cold. This would take a special level of skill to deal with.
“THOSE BABBEHS NEE WAWM MIWMIES!” Officer F-O-4 shouted in his best fluffy impression.
“Nuu! Meanie munstah gu way!” One of the foals shouted.
It was worse than he thought but ut was expected in this kind of weather. paradoxical no miwkies syndrome, one of the later stages of hypothermia in fluffies. Much like paradoxical undressing in humans that caused them to strip, foals in the later stages of hypothermia would deny wanting warm miwkies.
Officer F-O-4 pulled a large thermos out of his back pack and picked up the young foal. It tried to struggle in his hands to no avail as the good officer opened up the top of the thermos.
Inside was delicious warm fluffy miwkies. 200 degrees warm as a matter of fact. He had gotten the idea of keeping it so warm from when McDonald’s used to make their coffee so hot as to cause third degree burns. This way there was no chance at the miwkies getting cold during his shifts.
Officer F-O-4 didn’t hesitate to drop the foal into the near boiling milk below. A hideously pained screech left the foals mouth as it sunk into the milk below. There was a bit of splash back but luckily F-O-4’s thick clothing kept him safe.
“BABBEH NUUUU!” Buttercup shouted as she watched her foal sink to its doom.
With a quick motion he screwed the cap back on and then started to shake the thermos around like he was mixing a cocktail. He could feel the foal smacking against the edge of the thermos with his violent shaking. The whole process took a mere ten seconds before the officer twisted the cap back off and dumped the contents onto the floor.
Miraculously the foal managed to cling to life throughout the ordeal. Its eyes were visibly melting into a puddle of goop. All of its fluff had been stripped away and the foals skin was covered in severe burn markings. The only sound the foal could make was an incredibly stressed wheezing. It’s lungs, sinuses, and stomach had melted from getting the boiling hot milk inside of it. Eventually the ragged wheezing stopped and the foal got the miwkies it needed.
Before Officer F-O-4 could turn his attention to the mare and her other babbehs he felt a light tapping against his shins.
“GU WAY MUNSTAH! SMAWTY BABBEH GIB WOWSTEST SOWWY HOOFSIES!” A small foal with the same colors as its mother said with its cheeks puffed out.
Officer F-O-4 viewed himself as something of a hugboxer. He knew that in 99% of cases Smarties were merely fluffies trying to guide their herds. He felt it was quite noble that a fluffy so young would take such a role for its family.
He picked up the foal trying to give him sorry hoofies and pulled out around three hand warmers. He had bought them wholesale from Guatemala, getting a massive discount for some safety issue of “Getting hot enough to safely cook chicken” or something along those lines.
He opened the three warmers and gave rhem a good shake to activate. Before they got too hot he stuffed the fluffy foal and the warmers into a pair or dry back-up socks he had. He tied a knot in the socks so cold air couldn’t get in and then gently put the smarty babbeh back on the ground.
“WET SMAWTY BABBEH OUT! NEE MUMMAHS MIWKIES! NEE GWOW UP AN GET PWETTY MAWE AND BIG HEWD! DUMMEH MUNSTAH GIB WICKIE CWEAN~EEEEEE!” The fluffy shouted as the hand warmers seemed to finally take effect. He’d be able to get his miwkkes later, for now the other foals needed theirs.
At this point however the mare had let survival instincts take over. It was either her or her babies and Buttercup knew it was either her or none of them. She was near the exit, she could see the snow from outside.
“SOWWY BABBEHS! TUUU SCAWY!” Buttercup shouted back at her foals before a shock Paralyzed her.
Officer F-O-4 carried around a special fluffy-safe stun gun for situations like this. It dropped the mare immediately and allowed the officer to drag her back to the foals. Almost immediately the remaining three foals huddled up to her.
“MUMMAH TWY WEAVE BABBEHS!” One of the foals shouted.
“MUNSTAH MUMMAH IS WOWSTEST MUMMAH!”
“TAKE SOWWY HOOFSIES!”
The foals all shouted. For a brief moment the foals utter shock at being betrayed overcame their fear of the monster. They battered her with sorry hoofsies as hars as their tiny foal bodies could manage. The physical beating wasn’t what hurt however. Rather it was the emotional damage of her babbehs hating her. She couldn’t stop them though. The shock from earlier was still rocking through her body leaving her unable to much other than flail weakly.
The foals however were quickly reminded of the monster with them as one of the babbehs was hit square in the side by a stream of burning hot miwkies. It was just a small stream from a squirt gun but it was more than enough to give the babbeh some intense scalding.
Another foal was hit directly in the right dye. Almost immediately the eyeball was completely useless and a deep zuko-esque burn was left on its face. It collapsed to ground rubbing its face against the cold floor to try and stem the burning wounds pain. It didn’t work.
The final foal was a runner. However Officer F-O-4 was an even better shot. The foal was hit directly between the legs with a stream of miwkies. A banshee-like screech left the fluffy’s mouth as it’s testicle and penis were scalded beyond repair.
“SCREEEE! WOWSTEST NU-NU BUWNIE HUWTIES!” The foal managed to scream.
This was quickly followed by the foal going into shock from the pain. All the foal could do was flail its arms uselessly as Officer F-O-4 approached it.
He aimed his squirt gun about a foot away from the foal and started to pull the trigger. Over and over the fluffy was doused in the boiling hot miwkies. Nothing stopped the officer’s warm miwkies. Not the foal shitting itself, not the foal passing itself, not the foal screaming until it’s face and vocal cords melted from miwkies, not even until the foal drew its last raspy breaths. Rather the miwkies didn’t stop until his squirt gun was empty. And it was a super soaker.
Once the foal was melted to the ground and the others were writhing in pain Officer F-O-4 turned his attention to the mare. She had regained the use of her front limbs and was trying to drag herself away from her savior.
This was bad. Loss of limb function is reserved for only the latest stages of hypothermia. He had to act fast and thankfully he had the tools to do so. Officer F-O-4 pulled a flare out of his pocket, cracked it open, and pressed it against the mare’s body. Almost immediately her fluff was turned into a blazing inferno.
Her internal temperature still needed to rise though. So with a quick motion the good officer pressed the flare up her baby cannon without a second thought. She couldn’t even scream, her insides were being melted by the few thousand degree heat. It only took a few moments for the mare to die as the bottom of her stomach melted out into a bubbling pool of molten fluffy guts.
Looking back at his work, he did all he could and was damn proud of his job. One foal being warmed up, four who had gotten their miwkies, and one mare who’d never need to worry about being cold again.
Officer F-O-4 didn’t even drop his business card this time. He knew he did a good enough job that this family would be safe for the winter. As he left though it irked him that the family didn’t have a proper stallion to take care of them. Those worried were washed away as he heard fluffies behind him.
He saw a small herd of three feral stallions and a single bloated mare make their way into the abandoned apartment basement.
“DUMMEH BABBEHS! DIS AM SMAWTY WAND NAO! YOU AM NAO HEWD’S ENFIE BABBEHS!” The leader of the herd called out to the two remaining foals.
With a smile on his face Officer F-O-4 left the alleyway. He decided to have a cup of hot chocolate in his car, watching the alleyway as a brown stallion walked into the apartment’s basement. He wondered what he would say to the group.
“BABBEHS NUUUU!” The brown stallion shouted as he saw the sight of his special friend and his foals.
“GET DUMMEH FWUFFY! HEWD NEE WITTEW PAW!” The new smarty shouted.
Officer F-O-4 could briefly see as the brown stallion tried to claw his way back out the way he came in. However three much larger stallions giving his legs sorry hoofsies out of sight meant that they were quickly able to bring him back in.
“Ahhh…what a smart herd. Letting him know not to go out…” The good officer knew that the foals would be in good hands. Speaking of things in good hands, his hot chocolate was quite delicious.
