The next bright time after your sorta-stealthy milk adventure with daddeh, your siblings come out of the nestie hole for the first time ever. You sit there in your poopie pile, staring over at them in wonder. They’re…they’re so pretty!
“Peep! Wuv pway! Bwudda! Pway!”
Your sister is a wingie babbeh with a pretty pink coat and soft peach mane just starting to grow in, but the thing you notice first is just how fat she is, her tiny babbeh body bloated from no doubt an obscene amount of Mummah’s milkies. You huu-huu softly. Why can’t you be like that, filled to the brim with delicious milkies?
She slowly waddles over to one of your brothers, an earthie babbeh with light green fluff, and the beginning of a bright yellow mane that looks just like the sky-ball. Oh no! What if his mane hurts to look at, like the sky-ball does? You quickly cover your see-places, at least for a moment before your last sibling catches your attention.
“Chirp! Wan huggies! Wan huggies! Peep!”
Your other brother looks just like your daddeh, red fluff with some patches of a dark red mane, except for the wingie things on his back, which look just like mummah’s. He stumbles clumsily over to his siblings, sitting down on his rump and waving his leggies around, asking for huggies.
“Peep! Nu wan huggies! Wan wun an’ pway! Chirp!”
Your green brother and pink sister giggle and waddle away, chasing each other around the small enclosure that is your home. Your red brother sniffles, before covering his see-places with his hoofsies and bursting into tears.
“Huuhuuuu! Wan huggies! Mummahhhh!”
Watching your brother cry gives you such big heart hurties! You wish you could go over there and hug him, but, but…your tiny heart jumps with fear at the thought of leaving your poopie pile. You just can’t do it. It’s not safe, you just know it.
It turns out to be a good decision, as your mummah squeezes out of the nestie hole in the wall, making her way towards your red brother and giving him the hug he so desires. Your heart hurts in a different way now, watching your red brother get the affection from your mummah that you’ve been denied all this time.
“Huu…wuv mummah, chirp!”
“Mummah gib Wed babbeh huggies, naow mummah gu pway wif Bestes’ babbeh and Gween babbeh!”
Your red brother sniffles a bit and nuzzles against your mummah’s fluff, looking much happier now.
“Babbeh…babbeh wan pway naow tu! Peep!”
“Otay babbeh! Fowwow mummah!”
You watch dejectedly as your mummah and brother trundle over to your other siblings, and the sounds of giggling and hugs and love fill your hear-places. The more you listen, the more tears start to well up in your see-places. Why can’t you play with your brothers and sister and mummah? Why are you the poopie babbeh? What did you do wrong? The more you watch the commotion across the enclosure, the more your hurt has hurties. Eventually, the hurties are too much, and you lay your head down in the poopies, covering your see-places with your hoofsies as you cry.
“Huuhuu, wai babbeh nu can pway wif bwuddas an’ sissie? Huu…wuv bwuddas an’ sissie an’ mummah…buh nu wan weave poopie nestie…nu wan bigges’ owwies…”
You try your best to ignore the sounds of merriment, but it goes on for a forever, and all you can do is cry. All you can ever do is cry, it feels like. Then, you hear something approaching, and you cautiously remove your hoofsies from your face and look up, seeing your green brother standing not too far away from you. He’s looking right at you! You sit upright, smiling and holding your hoofsies out.
“B-Bwudda? Gib huggies? Wuv babbeh?”
Your brother takes a couple of steps closer to you, before his nosie wrinkles up and he quickly backs away, fear entering his eyes!
“Eck! Nu smeww pwetty! Chirp! Mummah! Nu smeww pwetty babbeh! Nu wan!”
Horror fills your expression as your mummah turns around, locking see-places with you. You let out a bit of scaredy-poopies at the look she gives you. Before she does anything, though, your other brother and sister waddle towards you, curious at what your green brother has found.
“Peep? Nyu fwiend? Cheep?”
You’re a total mess of emotions. You don’t know what to do. These are your siblings, surely they love you at least! You’ll be their new friend, of course, you’re their sister!
“Babbeh…babbeh am sistah! Babbeh am -“
“Babbeh am poopie babbeh. Poopie babbeh BAD babbeh!”
As soon as your mummah says this, your siblings gasp and back away from you, not wanting to be anywhere near a bad babbeh, much less a poopie babbeh. Your red brother is especially scared, falling backwards onto his behind, a small burst of scaredy poopies seeping out of him and covering his rump with it. Your other siblings cry out in displeasure, scooting away from him and the bad smells. As for you, your heart feels like it’s just been crushed, once again. Your mummah continues to explain you to your siblings as you begin to huu-huu loudly.
“Hmmph…Mummah nee’ teach babbehs gud poopies an’ bad poopies. Wisten tu mummah, babbehs. Wisten! Bad poopies am poopies in nestie ow poopies nu in poopie piwe, wike Wed babbeh make obah dewe. Nu gud, Wed babbeh! Nu smeww pwetty! Mummah gib sowwy-hoofsie.”
Your mummah lightly boops Red brother’s nosie, causing him to burst out crying loudly once again, waving his hoofsies around desperately for huggies. You know how he feels.
“Huuhuu! Owwies! Wan huggies! Nu wan be bad babbeh! Huuhuu! Am su saddies!”
Your other two siblings gather around your mummah, half listening and half hugging each other and cooing. Your crying is ignored through it all, save for your red brother looking sadly over at you, sniffling and crying himself.
“Shhh, Wed babbeh! Mummah tawkies! Naow, gud poopies. Gud poopies gu in poopie piwe, ow gu on poopie babbeh. Gud babbehs make gud poopies, an’ gud babbehs git miwkies an’ wuv!”
“Chirp! Miwkies! Wuv! Wuv Mummah!”
You sniffle back tears, shakily trying to speak again.
“N-Nu! Nu moaw poopies! Wan wuv, Mummah! Wuv bwuddas an’ sissie an’ wan miwkies an’ - owwies!”
You are silenced by a harsh bop to the head, your ears ringing after your mummah smacked you with her hoofsie, much harder than she did to Red brother. A fresh wave of crying starts up from you, pain throbbing through your thinkie-place.
“Poopie babbeh shaddup! Bad babbehs nu git wuv ow miwkies! Naow, Mummah show gud babbehs how tu make gud poopies. Hewe, babbehs, wook at Mummah!”
You just don’t have the strength, physically or emotionally, to fight back as your mummah backs up in front of you, lifts her tail, and deposits a generous helping of vile poopies right on top of you. You freak out for a moment, suffocating beneath her bad smelling poopies! Your thrashing about luckily clears enough off of you to breathe again, though your breathing is racked by your incessant sobs.
Suddenly, a change to this usual routine happens, with your mummah pushing her filthy rear right up to your face, causing you to gag!
“Eep! Nuuuu, Mummah! Wai? Huuhuu!”
“Poopie babbeh big enuff naow tu gib wickie-cweanies tu Mummah an’ babbehs naow aftow gud poopies. Mummah nu wan cwean babbehs’ poopie-pwaces nu moaw. Gib wickie-cweanies, dummeh!”
“Huuhuu, wai Mummah nu wuv? Babbeh wuv Mummah!”
“Dummeh poopie babbeh SHADDUP an’ gib Mummah wickie-cweanies ow git wowstes’ huwties!”
“Huuhuuhuu! Nu smeww pwetty…”
Why is this happening to you? A huge pit of despair and dread fills your tiny, frail body. You don’t want anymore hurties, heart hurties or otherwise. You just want mummah to love you, to play with your brothers and sister. Maybe…maybe giving them lickie-cleanies is the missing piece to the puzzle? Maybe that will make her love you. Tentatively, with tears in your eyes, you lean forward and stick your tongue out, and…
And promptly vomit from the taste, thankfully all over yourself rather than on your mummah. You would never know how lucky you were to not get sicky-water all over mummah.
With yet another smack to the head, and more yelling, though, you have no choice but to continue on. It’s this, or the worstest hurties, and you don’t even want to know what those are like. You shudder as your tongue makes contact again, yet this time, you soldier on. You don’t know how long it lasts, your mind overwhelmed with the horrid stench and taste.
Eventually, you suppose mummah decides that she’s clean enough, because she pulls away, grunting, giving you the chance to wretch and make sicky-waters into your poopie pile once again. Your mouthie and tummy burn from the vomiting, and you can’t stop crying. You can never stop crying.
“Hmmph. Poopie babbeh bad wickie-cweaneh, buh Mummah cwean enuff.”
Turning to your siblings, who had ignored the entire display and were all playing and hugging the whole time, your mummah calls them over. It’s their turn, now. Knowing that you’ll have to go through what you just went through, three more times…
“Huuhuu! Nu wan! Huuuuu!”
Bestest babbeh, your fat, pink sister, follows your mummah’s directions perfectly, defecating right on top of you, and practically sitting on top of your muzzle, nearly suffocating you before you can finish cleaning her.
“Mummah! Am cweanies! Miwkies naow! Miwkies naow!”
“Otay Bestes’, Mummah gib miwkies. Wuv Bestes’!”
Your other siblings beg and cry for milkies too, but your mummah tells them to show her that they’re good babbehs first, by making good poopies. Green brother comes up to you now, with a weird look in his eyes. Your instincts tell you that something…is wrong with his thinkie-place? You don’t know for sure, but it scares you.
“Huu…bwudda? Wai wook at Babbeh wike dat? Huuhuu, Babbeh scawedies!”
“Chirp! Gun’ gib bad babbeh poopies! Gun’ be gud babbeh, git guuuud miwkies. Wook, Mummah, wook! Teehee!”
Green babbeh suddenly clambers on top of you! You squirm and cry out, but being as weak and malnourished as you are, you stand no chance. A fresh torrent of foul feces splatters across your face, and you clench your see-places shut, sobbing, while your mummah claps her hoofsies together, giggling.
“Gud Gween babbeh! Gud poopies! Git wickie-cweanies den Mummah gib miwkies!”
Once again, you’re forced to lick your sibling clean, though this time you manage to get it done faster than before. You think you might be getting the hang of it, which only makes you more saddies. You don’t want to be a poopie babbeh. Before your brother heads off, though, he gives you a sorry-hoofsie for no reason!
“Owwies! Huuhuu, wai su meanies tu babbeh? Nu du anyfing wong! Huuhuu!”
Green brother looks to mummah, a beaming smile on his face.
“Bad babbehs git sowwy-hoofsies! Wite, Mummah?”
However, mummah doesn’t answer, too busy cooing and petting bestest babbeh. Green babbeh’s face gets all twisted up, cheeks puffing out and see-places growing watery with tears as he’s ignored, before he turns back around towards you and giving you yet another smack across your face, even harder this time! Ouch! Why would he do that?
“Mummahhh! Wook, wook! Gween babbeh gib dummeh poopie babbeh huwties! Am gud babbeh! Huuhuu, wooook!”
“Eh? Oh, gud babbeh. Gween babbeh git miwkies fwom mummah naow.”
Green brother sticks his tongue out at you, blowing a raspberry at you, making your heart hurt! Why is Green brother so mean? He waddles off, latching onto your mummah’s teat next to Bestest, letting out a sigh of utter bliss as he does. Finally, Red brother moves up to you, his face twisted up in conflict, still sniffling and huu-huuing a bit from his boop from mummah earlier.
“Chirp! Poopie babbeh saddies? Wai, Mummah?”
“Poopie Babbeh am bad babbeh, Wed babbeh. Dat wai am saddies. Gud babbehs am nebah saddies, su dun wowwy! Naow gu gud poopies fow Mummah, den gib dancies fow Mummah, den Mummah gib miwkies!”
“Peep! Wuv miwkies!”
Red brother relieves himself in front of you, but thankfully the brunt of it misses you. He sticks his rump out towards you, but not in an overly demanding manner. You do your duty, no more tears left in you to be shed, before you finally finish, slumping back in your poopie pile, fresh filth surrounding you.
“Chirp! Fanku fow wickie-cweanies, poopie babbeh! Wan huggies fow saddies? Wed babbeh wuv huggies!”
You look up from your pile, a renewed glow of hope in your see-places. Red babbeh is there, wiggling his hoofsies at you, even though his nosie is wrinkled up at the smell all around you. He…he actually wants to hug a dummy poopie like you?
“Bwudda…bwudda wuv babbeh?”
“Wed babbeh wuv…wuv huggies! Nu wike saddies! Wan gib huggies to poopie babbeh, den dwink miwkies!”
“Babbeh wuv Wed bwudda! Babbeh gib…gib…”
You lock eyes with your mummah once again. You would have to leave the poopie pile to hug him. You can never leave the poopie pile. You can never leave it, or else you’ll get hurt.
“Babbeh…babbeh su sowwy, huuhuu…babbeh nu can gib huggies…”
“Wai? Cuz of dummeh weggie?”
A fresh pang of sorrow flies through you as you are reminded of your tiny, twisted right leggie, flopping around numbly. Dummy…that’s all you are.
“Huuu, babbeh nu dummeh, am…am…”
Then, your mummah interrupts.
“Wed babbeh! Make gud poopies? Git wickie-cweanies? Mummah gib miwkies naow, aftow Wed babbeh dancies fow Mummah!”
gasp “Miwkies! Wuv Mummah! Wed am dancie babbeh! Dancie babbeh fow bestes’ Mummah!”
And just like that, you are forgotten once again. It turns out, you did still have some tears left to cry, curling up in a ball, covered in poopies, huu-huuing silently to yourself as you listen to your brothers and sister and mummah.
“Mummah wuv babbehs, babbehs wuv mummah, babbehs dwink miwkies, gwow up big an’ stwong~”
You used to take comfort in that song, long ago. Now you can barely handle the emotional anguish it brings you, as your siblings audibly guzzle down your mummah’s sweet, sweet milk. You openly sob, your tummy hurts so bad, both from the smell of milkies and how hard you’re crying now, hearing mummah’s song, knowing fully well now that it’s not for you. It was NEVER for you, you know that now.
You can’t help but lay there, eyes wide open and blurry, listening. Your siblings drink milkies, they play, they hug, they coo, they love. Everything that you don’t have. You shiver violently, not from the cold, but from something far deeper than that, the same thought repeating over and over again in your head. No fair. No fair. No fair.
—————————————————————
The only thing that ever brings you solace in your pitiful life is the brief time you share with your daddeh. At first, you were devastated that he wouldn’t let you drink milkies directly from mummah again after what happened last time, and you cried all night long when he told you that. Nowadays though, you’re just grateful to taste something, anything else other than not-pretty poopies, and you greedily gulp down whatever milkies he spits out into your mouthie.
It’s never enough, you’re always hungry and your tiny ribs are always quite pronounced through your thin poopie fluff, but it’s still something, and you’re grateful to your daddeh.
Now that you can make talkies, though, you’ve come to enjoy daddeh’s company in another way: asking incessant questions every single night.
“Daddeh, wai namsie Cwiff? Mummah an’ bwuddas an’ sissie an’ babbeh nu hab namsies.”
“Cwiff hab namsie cuz Cwiff wived wif hoomin mummah, wots an’ wots of bwite-timesies ago. Am showt fo’ Cwiffowd, hoomin mummah teww Cwiff. Spechuw fwiend nu wike namsies, fink namsies dummeh. Cwiff nu knu wai.”
“Daddeh, wat hoomin?”
“Hoomins bestes’ mummahs an’ daddehs! Cwiff ask hoomins if dey can be nyu mummahs ow daddehs fow Cwiff an spechuw fwiend an babbehs, whiwe Cwiff wook fo’ nummies, buh nu hoomins wan…huu…buh…Hoomins wive in housies, weawwy wawmsie housies! An’, an’ gib bestest nummies! Wike sketties!”
You cock your head. For some reason, that last thing made your heart skip with excitement.
“Daddeh, wat am…am sketties?”
Your daddeh’s eyes light up, and a bit of drool leaks out of his mouthie.
“Sketties am…Sketties da bestest nummies ebah! Sketties suuuuuuu gud! Taste wike, wike…wike sketties! Su gud!”
Your daddeh’s face drops a bit, tears welling up.
“Huuhuu…Cwiff nu hab sketties in su many fowevahs…Cwiff miss sketties…huu…”
Your daddeh cries a lot, you’ve noticed. Like, pretty much over anything. Kind of like Red babbeh, too. Not that you don’t, but you feel like you have some good reasons to be crying your heart out all the time. Nonetheless, you share in your daddeh’s sorrow.
“Huuhuu, nu mean make Daddeh saddies! Babbeh sowwy! Gib huggies an’ wuv?”
“Huu, otay babbeh…huggies make ebewyfing bettah…fanku…”
sniffle “Daddeh, huu…wat housie an’ hoomin mummah?”
Your daddeh sits down on his rump, reminiscing as well as a fluffy can.
“Weww, babbeh, housie am wike nestie howe, buh suuuu much moaw biggies! Su biggies! An’ su wawmsies, eben in cowd-timesies! An’ hoomin mummah su gud, gib Cwiff su much wuv…buh…buh…”
Your daddeh sniffles, then starts to cry again.
“Huuhuuu, buh hoomin mummah wan take ‘way Cwiff’s spechuw wumps! Cwiff nu wan! Cwiff wan spechuw fwiend an’ babbehs an’ hab famiwy! Su Cwiff haf tu wun ‘way! Su many heawt-huwties…buh naow Cwiff hab famiwy! Wuv aww babbehs an’ spechuw fwiend! Nummie-findin’ hawd, an’ Cwiff su tiwed aww timesies, buh Cwiff du fow famiwy!”
“Wuv Daddeh! Wat spechuw wumps?”
Daddeh blushes and shifts around uncomfortably, clearly not expecting this question.
“Spechuw wumps…um, nu fow babbehs. Daddeh Cwiff teww Poopie babbeh wen Poopie babbeh big fwuffy.”
“Oh, otay. Daddeh, how time tiww Mummah wuv babbeh? Babbeh wuv Mummah!”
Your daddeh looks away, and you can hear some quiet huu-huus again.
“Daddeh…daddeh Cwiff nu knu, babbeh. Huu…Cwiff nu knu wai spechuw fwiend nu wuv poopie ow munstah babbehs. Teebee towd Cwiff dat AWW babbehs gud babbehs, su…”
“Daddeh, wat tee-bee?”
——————————————————————
More days pass, more poopies are dropped on top of you, more poopie-places get cleaned by you. Bestest babbeh gets the job done quick, not wanting to hang around the poopie pile for any longer than she needs to. She’s not nice to you, definitely not…but she’s not mean to you, either. It’s almost like you don’t even exist to her, which gives you big heart-hurties. Bestest is so pretty, and she’s a filly just like you! You just wish she’d say something, anything whenever you tried to speak to her…but so far, she’s never even uttered so much as a peep towards you. And she never will.
Green babbeh is the worst, though. He’s always so mean to you, making sure all his poopies go right on your face and mouthie, and he always gives you sorry-hoofsies after he’s done. Then he makes you lickie-clean the poopies off of his hoofsies from hitting you. You don’t know why he’s so meanie.
Despite the circumstances, however, you’ve grown to look forward to whenever Red babbeh waddles over to the poopie pile to relieve himself. He gets scaredies easily and cries a lot, just like your daddeh, but he’s also nice to you! Sometimes, your red brother will even talk to you for a bit, to your utter joy!
“Hnnn, babbeh make gud poopies! Huu, nu smeww pwetty…babbeh am sowwy fow smewws, poopie sissie…”
To tell the truth, you haven’t really noticed the smell of the poopie pile recently, for some reason. Come to think of it, you haven’t really been able to smell anything at all for a while now, though considering your situation, that’s a blessing.
“It otay, bwudda. Babbeh wuv! Huggies?”
Your brother looks to the side, a sad look on his face. What’s wrong? He wanted to give you huggies before, a few bright-times ago. What did you mess up now?
“Wed babbeh…huu, Wed nu wan’ git poopies aww obah Wed fwom huggies wif poopie babbeh…su sowwy, sissie…”
Your already blurry eyesight gets even blurrier as tears well up in your eyes, as yet another request for huggies from your sibling gets denied. You know you must not look or smell pretty, and you know you’re a dummeh, but…but huggies are important for fluffies!
“Huuhuu…bwudda nu wuv babbeh? Huuu! Babbeh am…am dummeh poopie babbeh? Huu! Nu wuv! Nu wuv! Huuhuu!”
Your red brother winces, not having meant to make you cry. Looking around and making sure mummah or your other siblings aren’t nearby, he steps in closer. Or, at least as close as his sense of smell will allow him to.
“Nu cwy, sissie! Wha…wha bou’ spowin’? Wed wuv spowin’! Mummah caww Wed mummah’s spowin’ babbeh! Suuu gud at spowin’!”
Red babbeh wiggles and jumps about with anticipation. Your crying stops for a moment, confusion and curiosity making your tiny, tiny brain spin.
“Wha…wha am spowin’, bwudda? Am wike huggies an’ miwikies?”
“Heehee, nu, dummeh! Am wike spowin’! Wed show ‘ou! Dis way!”
You wince at being called a dummeh, while your brother turns around and begins to waddle off towards the big fencie, which of course, causes you to wail out again, tears falling down your emaciated cheeks, stopping him in his tracks.
“Huuhuuuu, nu! Nu weave babbeh! Am sowwy, bwudda! Nu can weave poopie piwe, ow Mummah gib wowstes’ huwties! Nu wike!”
“Hmm…nu wowwy, poopie sissie! Mummah in nestie wif Bestes’ sissie an Gween bwudda, nu knu babbehs am spowin’! Dis way, heehee!”
Red takes off at a brisk pace, for a fluffy babbeh, towards the fencie, his tiny wingies fluttering excitedly. Panic sets into your tiny body. What is he doing? You’ve never been or seen what’s on the other side of that thing, but just trying to think about it scares you! You only ever see your daddeh use the hole in the fence, when he goes out to look for nummies for mummah and himself. And yet, your brother is running right for it!
You…you can’t let him get lost or hurt out there! If he did, it’d probably be your fault, and Mummah would give you worstest hurties, or worse!
“Huu, bwudda! Wait fow babbeh! Huu! Nu wan huwties!”
For the first time in quite awhile, you drag yourself out of the poopie pile, landing onto the rough ground with a cry of pain. You attempt to stand up, but your weak, underdeveloped legs can barely support you! You shakily take a step forward, before falling down onto your belly. You’re so terribly malnourished, and days of just lying nearly motionless in the poopie pile have really taken their toll on you. You can’t find the energy to do anything except drag and wiggle your body forward.
“Huuhuu! Wai weggies nu wowk? Nu wuv babbeh? Huuhuu!”
You try to catch up with Red brother, but with your malformed, dummeh front right leggie, any dragging along you can manage is at a very, very slow pace. Pain shoots through your belly with every feeble wiggle, already always hurting bad enough from lack of milkies. As grueling and painful as it is, after what feels like many forevers, you finally catch up to your brother, who has been waiting for you by the fluffy-sized hole in the fence.
“Huuhuu…huwties…gib babbeh huggies? Huu…”
Red babbeh pats your head with a hoofsie, which is something, at least.
“Teehee, sissie suuu swow! Nee’ use weggies, siwwy! Bu’…sissie hab dummeh weggie. Wed gu swow tuu, su sissie nu git wost.”
“Huu…nu wan git wost…”
“Wed wead da way. Dis way! Spowin’! Spowin’! Heehee!”
Your nervousness turns to sheer terror as you watch Red turn around and…and actually go through the hole in the fence! Oh no! It’s almost too scary for you, so you shut your see-places, and against your better judgement, you start to crawl forward…through the hole, and into the world outside your little enclosed nest area.
One forevers later, by your count, you decide to open your eyes. The hard concrete beneath your belly has disappeared, turning into a soft, green substance that feels really, really nice to drag yourself along. You look up, and from what your damaged eyesight can tell, there’s no longer a roof above your head, just a weird blue sea above you, with some fluffy grey splotches here and there. That’s pretty scary! Oh, and mister sky-ball is still up there! Ouch! You accidentally stared straight at it again. How could this happen to you?
“Huuhuu! See-pwace huwties! Nu wike! Wai sky-baww huwt babbeh mowe? Am onwy wittow babbeh!”
“Teehee, Daddeh say tu nu wook at sky-baww, siwwy! It am make bwite-time, an’ when sky-baww gu sweepies, it am dawkies-time! Wed su smawty!”
Your eyes fill with admiration, staring attentively at your sibling. He’s right! He’s so smart! Slowly, your previous apprehension to exploring fades away, feeling comfortable traveling so far away from the nestie with Red babbeh, a comfort you previously only ever felt with your daddeh. You guess it makes sense, since Red just looks like a tiny version of daddeh, but with those weird wingie things.
The two of you continue onwards, splorin’ out into the field. The sky-ball’s shininess is nice and warm, making you feel nice and cozy as you drag yourself along the weird floor. You really like this stuff, whatever it is!
“Dat am gwassies! Su softsies, an’ daddeh say big fwuffies can num, bu’ nu taste pwetty. Bu’ feew pwetty!”
You take a tentative nibble of this ‘grass’, or at least as much as you can with your underdeveloped gums. As far as you can tell, it doesn’t taste too not pretty. It’s definitely way better than poopies, at least.
“Daddeh teww Wed babbeh dat gud nummies am fwowah nummies, wook wike…wike…”
gasp
“Wike dose obah dere! Dis way, poopie sissie!”
Once again, you drag yourself along, though with a much lighter heart than before this time. This is actually fun! Maybe being outside the poopie pile isn’t so bad after all!
Sliding yourself up next to Red babbeh, you look up in amazement at one of the prettiest sights you’ve ever seen. A small plant with beautiful white petals and a bright yellow center stands in front of you. This must be the flower nummie your brother mentioned! Too bad you’re not quite old enough for big fluffy nummies yet, it looks so good…
“Wook su pwetty!” snifffff “Smeww suuu pwetty! Wike mummah! Twy, sissie, twy!”
You inch yourself closer, and give the flower a tentative sniff, then a longer snort. But…you don’t smell anything. You give your mean nosie a small sorry-hoofsie, flinching from the sudden bop, before smelling the flower again. Hmm…that didn’t work either!
“Huu…dummeh nosie nu wowk? Nu wuv babbeh? Huuhuu…”
Red ignores you, still fully captivated with the flower.
“Daddeh teww Wed dat fwowah nummies gu tu mummah, su mummah can make da bestes’ miwkies EBAH!”
Red throws his hoofsies up in emphasis, startling you out of your despair. A small huu-huu and a tiny plop of scaredy-poopies later, though, and you’re suddenly captivated with something else. Did he just say milkies?
“Bestes’…miwkies? Poopie babbeh wan bestes’ miwkies…huu, bu’ Mummah…”
“Wed bwing Mummah fwowah nummies da udah bwite-time, an’ Mummah suuuu happies! Gib Wed bestest huggies, an’ aftow Bestes’ babbeh an’ Gween babbeh hab miwkies, an’ aftow Wed gib bestes’ dancies fow Mummah…Wed git bestes’ miwkies! Yay!”
You can’t help it anymore. You break down crying, huu-huuing as loud as you can.
“Nu faiw! Poopie babbeh wan bestes’ miwkies tuu! Nu faiw! Huuhuu! Wai mummah nu wuv poopie babbeh?! Huuuu!”
Your brother winces from your sudden outburst, before desperately trying to think of a way to calm you down.
“Pwease nu cwy agin, sissie, Wed…Wed knu! Wed wiww wet poopie sissie bwing mummah fwowah nummies dis timesie!”
“Huu…bu’ poopie babbeh am nu in poopie piwe…mummah pwomise gib wowstes’ owwies…”
“Den poopie babbeh du dancies fow mummah, tuu! Bwing fwowah an’ dancies! Den mummah wuv sissie tuu! Wook, wook! Du wha Wed du!”
Red dancies around on the grass, giggling, distracting you from your downward spiral.
sniffle “Huu, o-otay, bwudda…”
Inspired, you to try to do the same. Mustering all your might, you push yourself up onto your rump, grunting in pain. Your twisted right leggie hurts, but you do as best as you can, slowly swinging your front leggies back and forth just like your brother is doing.
“W…Wook bwudda! Poopie babbeh dancies tuu! Am dancie babbeh naow!”
“Teehee, gud dancies, poopie sissie! Wed wuv!”
Your heart flutters with a strange feeling of happiness, a feeling that you seldom feel, flaring up especially as Red babbeh stops his dancie, steps in and finally reaches his leggies around you, giving you an amazing, blissful huggie. This…this is one of the best days you’ve ever had. You’re a dancie babbeh now! Yay!
Utterly exhausted from the intense exertion, you slump down and rest in the grass as Red takes some time to frolick around a bit more. As you do, though, you begin to feel the warmth of the sky-ball start to fade, giving you small scaredies. The weird grey fluffy things in the clouds are growing, and things are starting to get chilly out. Red seems to notice too, as he stops in his tracks, a look of nervousness on his face.
“Wed bwudda, wat sky-fwuffies? Nyu fwiends?”
“Nu…daddeh teww Wed dey am sky-wawa fwuffies…an wawa…”
gulp
“Wawa BAD fow babbehs. Wed an’ poopie sissie nu spowin’ nu mowe…nee’ git tu nestie!”
You jolt up off of the grass, squeaking in pain as you accidentally put weight on your bad leggie.
“Huu, wai weggie dummeh…am dummeh babbeh…”
“Huwwy, sissie! Wun! Huuhuu, scawedy sky-fwuffies! Wawa bad fow babbeh!”
You start to drag yourself as fast as you can after your brother, but he’s just so fast! His red fluff waddles off into the distance, wingies buzzing frantically, scaredy-poopies shooting out of his rear and staining the grass, hopelessly outpacing you as you scream out in panic and terror.
“Nuuu! Nu weave babbeh, bwudda! Pwease! Huuhuu! PWEASE!”
You lay your head down against the ground, exhausted from dragging yourself a couple inches in the dirt and grass, sobbing your little lungs out, nearly passing out from the exertion. When you look up again, you can’t see your brother anymore. He…he left you.
Shivering, you begin to slowly, slowly crawl your own way back. It wasn’t this cold earlier, was it? The wind is picking up, and you hear scary splashes of sky-water nearby you. Inch by inch, you drag yourself along. At least the grass still feels nice, you suppose.
It feels like so many forevers, but finally you somehow, by some miracle, manage to slide yourself back through the hole in the fencie where your adventure started, and back into the enclosure on the side of the building. Back to your home, your nestie. Back to…back to grating concrete, scratching your tender, empty belly up. You peep out with pain, having gotten so used to the wonderful grassies. You tilt your head up, looking around. There’s Red babbeh, he made it back…and there’s Mummah and the others!
“Huuhuuuu! Mummah! Wed spowin’, cuz Wed spowin’ babbeh, bu’ sky-wawa come! Su scawedies, su scawedies! Huuuu! Wai sky-wawa nu wuv babbeh?”
Bestest babbeh drags her fat, fluffy body over to Red, her wings fluttering with concern as she gives Red a huggie for comfort.
“Peep! Nu be scawedies, bwudda! Bestes’ babbeh gib bestes’ huggies!”
Green babbeh trots up and joins the hug too, so scared from how scared Red is that he starts huu-huuing uncontrollably as well, before mummah scoops them all together in her leggies.
“Dewe dewe, babbehs, Mummah am hewe. Mummah wuv babbehs, babbehs wuv mummah~”
Mummah leans in and nuzzles Bestest, Green, and finally Red, cooing affectionately.
“Spechuw fwiend bwing nummies tu nestie soon, den Mummah num nummies, den make bestes’ miwkies fow Bestes’ babbeh! Den Gween babbeh, den Wed babbeh dancies fow Mummah an’ git miwkies tu! Mummah wuv!”
At the mention of milkies, all three babbehs cheer! So many nuzzles, so much love, so much cooing and chirping, you can only lie there on the floor, tears streaming down your…
“POOPIE BABBEH! WAT AM DUIN ‘WAY FWOM POOPIE PIWE?!”
The atmosphere of pure love shatters instantly, and it’s all your fault.
Bestest babbeh yelps from the scream of mummah above her, and covers her see-places with her hoofsies, sobbing in fear, her milk-fattened body jiggling about as she shivers and shakes. Green babbeh steps to the side, his fluffy cheeks puffed up scarily, a look of pure, unfiltered hatred on his face as he stares at you. A look that tells you that he would…he would happily give you forever sleepies if mummah told him to.
All while Red babbeh, the only sibling who has ever been kind to you, jumps and lets out yet another helping of scaredy-poopies at mummah’s sudden outburst, running off towards the nestie hole…but not before turning his head and giving you a sorrowful look, tears staining his fluff. He forgot all about you, and now you’re going to be punished for it.
“Peep! Mummah! Nu huwties! Poopie babbeh wuv! Poopie babbeh wuv! Huuhuu!”
Every time you say wuv, mummah only gets angrier, as she storms closer and closer to you. You curl up, chirping out in fear. Why? Fluffies are made for huggies and wuv! It doesn’t make sense!
“Dummeh, STOOPID poopie babbeh! Mummah teww poopie babbeh ‘ou NU! GIT! WUV! ONWY POOPIES AN’ HUWTIES!”
Screeing out in fear, sobbing hysterically from all the meanie things being said to you…you suddenly remember what Red babbeh told you. The secret to make mummah finally love you!
“W-wait mummah! Huuhuu! Babbeh hab fwowah nummies fow mummah! Bestes’ nummies fow bestes’, huu…bestes’ mummah! Nu huwties, huuhuu, nu huwties!”
Mummah stops in her tracks, huffing impatiently. You didn’t notice until now, but green babbeh is standing right next to her still, clinging by her side, copying her every move as he lets out a huff as well. He looks up at her for approval, and softly huus as she ignores him.
“Weww? Whewe am fwowah nummies, dummeh? Mummah waitin’!”
“Babbeh gib! Babbeh wuv Mummah! Babbeh hab…hab…”
Oh no.
You forgot to get the flower nummies.
Nearly hyperventilating, you remember the second part of the fool-proof plan to make mummah love you. With a great, big heave of effort, almost all the air in your tiny lungs being expended, you lurch back onto your rear, raise your front leggies, and swing them wildly side to side, ignoring the searing pain in your dummy leg as best as you can. Your entire future, the future of mummah’s love for you, depends on this moment.
huff, huff “W-wook, wook mummah…am dancie babbeh…huff Pwease, nu huwties…Pwease, wuv…huuhuu, dancie kaff babbeh wuvs…”
You’ll never forget the look of pure hatred on mummah’s face for as long as you live, nor will you ever forget the beating you received moments later, no matter how hard your little mind tries. Not that you didn’t deserve it. You forgot mummah’s special flower nummies.
Sorry-hoofsie after sorry-hoofsie descended upon you, righteous fury of a mummah denied flower nummies taken out on your frail little body. You keep trying to forget. You keep trying to forget.
Green babbeh joined in quickly, kicking you in the already-hurting tummy and smacking your special-place with his hoofsies, making you vomit from the pain. Every time he hit you, he would look back to Mummah, giggling and telling her that he loves her, asking if he was a good babbeh. It didn’t matter the answer, he would do it over, and over again.
Mummah’s hoof smacked you square in the left see-place, and now you can’t seem to see out of it anymore. Just like your nosie and your leggie, it doesn’t work because it no longer loves you.
And if it weren’t for your Daddeh coming back home a little bit later, with a mouthful of nummies for Mummah, you wouldn’t have survived this day. The promise of flower nummies for Mummah was fulfilled, thanks to Daddeh, and Mummah suddenly forgot all about you. He had saved you again, unknowingly.
Of course, once it was over, you were forced to lickie-cleanies up your blood and vomit, along with the scaredy-poopies Red and Bestest babbeh had made during the whole ordeal. Dragging yourself around the concrete, scratching up your tummy even more. The taste of your own boo-boo juice. You can’t forget.
Even now, curled up in your poopie pile, shivering not from the cold of dark-times, not even from the pain, but from pure sadness, a level of sadness no fluffy or babbeh was ever meant to endure, you just. Can’t. Forget. You vow to never, ever, ever ever ever leave the poopie pile now. You know you told yourself that before, but this time, you MEAN it.
You’re so tired.
And yet…you had fun exploring with Red brother. The feeling of grassies rubbing against your belly, tickling you, so soft…you hold onto that feeling. You greedily suck down the milkies daddeh steals for you, and you fall into a fitful sleep, your body wracked with aches and pains, so much pain. Yet you sleep regardless, to endure another day. Maybe…maybe Red babbeh will give you another huggie tomorrow?
————————————————————————
The sky-wawas came and went for many bright-times and dark-times, or…well, at least one or two. Many forevers to you, either way. You kept true to your vow to stay put in the poopie pile, and things seemed to stay relatively normal. Well, other than the fact that your entire body has been so itchies lately from being constantly covered in poopies, and scratching yourself didn’t help at all. You were always scratching and itching these days, begging for the itchies to please leave you alone.
Oh, and your belly, rubbed raw from dragging yourself along concrete so much recently, was covered in angry sores that gave you such horrible burny-hurties. Everything was so sad, painful, horrible, hungry, awful, and poopie…thus, normal.
You would also always get really bad heart-hurties whenever Red brother would go poopies near you, because he would always start crying whenever he looked at you, face full of fluffy guilt.
“Huu…Wed babbeh su sowwy, poopie babbeh…Mummah gib poopie babbeh wowstes’ huwties…aww Wed’s fauwt! Huuhuuu, wowstes’ heawt-huwties! Nu wan! Huu!”
You tried to tell him it was okay, and that you just wanted huggies, but for Red, running away from you was preferable to having to deal with the deep guilt he felt for abandoning you. It was just too sad talking to you. He would always run off huu-huuing, seeking out his real siblings to give him huggies to help his heart feel better. Probably for the best anyways, you’re just a dummeh, poopie babbeh. You’re just remembering that’s the truth, is all.
One of the bright-times, the sky-water fell allllll day long, and your mummah, Daddeh, and other babbehs never came out of the nestie hole. You almost wanted to go check on them, just in case.
“D…Daddeh? Wed bwudda? Huuhuu, su many wawas…”
You know you said to yourself before that you’d never leave the poopie pile again, but…but what if they need your help? You know Red babbeh doesn’t love you now, like the others, but Daddeh…Daddeh truly still loves you, you know that. Well, probably, at least.
“Huu…wai Daddeh Cwiff nu come out fwom nestie howe? Nu wuv poopie babbeh nu mowe? Huu…”
Shaking the bad thinkie-thinks from your thinkie-place, you decide to check on them. Inching forwards, crawling through the soggy muck and filth that is your home, you come to the edge of the pile. You look down, preparing yourself for the painful drop to the floor…
…only to peep in fear, scaredy-poopies spilling out of you as you see that the floor is now all wawa!
“Nuuuu! Wawa bad fow babbeh! Nu wan, nu wan!”
Not that you would ever be able to tell, but all it really was, was a puddle of murky water that had pooled around your poopie pile, having slowly seeped in through a small crack in the wall behind you. With how bad your one working see-place was, though, it might as well have been as if the entire world had flooded.
You begin to pull back to safety, but something stops you in your tracks. Is that a babbeh in the wawa? Mesmerized, you lean in slightly closer.
“Nyu fwiend? Wai babbeh am in wawa? Wawa bad fow babbeh!”
This new babbeh staring back at you was…well, they really didn’t look pretty, you hated to say. Both their ragged, patchwork mane and fluff were brown and black splotched like the worstest sorry-poopies, one of their see-places was horribly swollen and sealed shut, and worst of all…they kept talking whenever you tried to talk! So annoying!
“Wha babbeh say? Wai am tawkies at samesie time! Huuhuu, stawp! Wet babbeh tawkies! Huu! Meanie dummeh!”
You move to give the ugly babbeh below you in the wawa a sorry hoofsie for interrupting you, but they move at the same time, scaring you! You flinch back, tensing up and waiting for the smack that never comes.
“Huu…am sowwy fow caww babbeh dummeh…nu mean it…nu gib huwties…”
Peering back over the edge, you try to be nicer.
“Wan…wan be nyu fwiend? Poopie babbeh nu hab fwiend…onwy hab poopies. Wat nyu fwiend namsies?”
You lay your head on the edge of the pile, looking down at your new friend, anticipation filling the air. But…they don’t respond.
“Huuhuu…nyu fwiend nu wuv poopie babbeh nu mowe? Wat du wong…huu…”
A tear falls from your one good see-place, dripping down into the wawa, causing it to ripple…and making your new friend distort and shimmer! You screech in fear, jumping up…before something makes you freeze. As your friend stops rippling in the water, you notice…
“Nyu fwiend hab dummeh weggie? Poopie babbeh hab dummeh weggie tuu! Am jus’ wike…jus’ wike…am…”
You see a reflection of your face for the first time in your life.
“Poopie…am…am…”
“Huu…poopie babbeh nu am pwetty…”
Something snaps in your mind. Sure, you had looked down at your leggies and ugly fluff before, but now, staring at your own reflection, it just feels so different. This is you. This wretched, feces-slathered, fluff-and-bones babbeh is YOU. That’s your stupid, ugly twisted leg. That’s your broken see-place that doesn’t love you, oozing some not-pretty water. That’s your dumb nosie that doesn’t love you, either. That’s…that’s you.
No wonder every fluffy hates you. Out of all the not pretty things you’ve seen, you’re the not prettiest of them all. And that realization, just breaks you.
You don’t even cry or huu-huu as you lay back down on the edge of the poopie pile. You just keep staring blankly back at yourself.
“Poopie babbeh…nu wike poopie babbeh.”
Your see-place stares vacantly. You let out a soft sigh.
“Nu wan be dummeh poopie babbeh nu mowe. Nu wan. Babbeh wan…”
You search your thinkie-place for the right word. You want what?
“Wan…wan, babbeh wan…poopie babbeh wan…wan d-…wan di-…wan…”
You feel yourself slowly lowering yourself closer to the puddle. You feel nothing. Why aren’t you scared? Water is bad for babbehs!
Who cares.
You start to close your see-place, a strange sense of peace washing over you…before a flash of color catches your attention, stopping you from…what are you doing?! You lurch back from the water, shivering in fear, a trickle of scaredy-poopies running down your back leggie.
“Wha…wha am dat?”
You look closer at your reflection. Your patchy mane, your brown, disgusting mane, the mere sight should revolt you, and yet…you see it.
A small, tiny patch of beautiful, dark purple mane, beneath all the filth.
“Babbeh…babbeh am, pwetty?”
You lay there for what feels like an eternity, transfixed on your purple mane. Out of all the pretty things you’ve seen, it’s the prettiest of them all. Deep, dark purple, like the sky when the sky-ball is almost asleep. Almost impossible to see from all the poopies plastered over most of it, but you can see it.
So, so pretty. So purple. So mesmerizingly pretty. And it’s all yours.
You have the prettiest mane out of all of your siblings, and that thought fills you with hope. Maybe you’re not a worthless dummy poopie after all.
Once the dark-time comes, and the puddle recedes, your daddeh finally comes out, bringing your nightly milkies. After that’s taken care of, you wiggle your leggies at him, getting much-needed huggies.
“Daddeh, poopie babbeh pwetty babbeh! Hab pwetty manesie!”
Daddeh Cliff looks away nervously, before leaning in to nuzzle you, while holding his breath of course.
phew “Uhm…Cwiff, uh…Daddeh Cwiff wuv poopie babbeh. Daddeh am suwe babbeh wiww hab, vewy pwetty poopie manesie! Yeh!”
Not quite the encouragement you were hoping for, but you know the truth regardless. You fall asleep soon after Daddeh leaves, falling into the best sleep you’ve ever had, your tiny dreams filled with the prettiest of purples.
YOUR very own purple.
loving the updates on this story thank u, can’t wait for the next chapter. I hope it ends with Cliff helping Poopie escape and find a new human owner. I’m a bit confused by the discription of the poopie pile, in the last chapter it almost sounded like it was in a red garbage shoot? Are the fluffy family in a backyard with some kind of red box or gutter system?