A Smarty On Daddy’s Driveway Pt. 4
The sun was high and bright, and blazing hot, making the pair of captured fluffies pant in the heat of the day in spite of their fear and shit and piss-soiled coats. The old grey fluffy hugged the young pink filly as tight as his stubby little arms could manage, but the newly renamed Bryony still shook in his huggylegs.
Snowberry’s round sensitive ears heard a noise come from the open patio door, and he looked up fearfully, now shaking himself, seeing the big mean human as he stepped back onto the frame of the backyard’s sliding patio door. The shadow cast by the high, bright noon sun slashed the human in two so his upper half was hidden to Snowberry. Socked feet straddled the door’s frame, big hands hanging by his sides, his face hidden by the stark shade. But the meanie human’s eyes glinted, seemingly angrier than ever, boring into Snowberry’s own big grey eyes.
He could hear the young colt crying loudly for his daddy inside, even when his smarty and herd had tried to beat him up and steal his land. Cloudy– No, Snowberry could only imagine what the meanie monster-daddy must have done to the dummy leggy colt.
The human moved, the movement catching Bryony’s attention. She screamed in fear, having finally noticed he was back. She farted as she tried to make more scardy poopies as she clung tightly to her friend.
Hugo stared at the beshitted pair, eyes never leaving them as his feet slid the boots back on without looking down, arms remaining at his sides. They still didn’t move as he stepped off the back porch and closed in on the pair of trapped fluffies. The pink filly had managed to squirm out of the old stallion’s hug and was trying to scrambling up the sloping side of the fire pit, but the watery fluffy shit at the bottom had somehow turned the rough bare metal too slick for its fat little feet while the stallion tried to push the filly up with its head, but kept pitching forward as its hind feet slid up Hugo’s side of the fire pit.
Hugo managed to exert some level of self-control, keeping himself from turning the fire pit into a mixing bowl with his fists. But that fucking squealing… god, they all had the exact same ear-piercing squeal. It was somehow even worse than the stink of both feral and domestic fluffy shit. Hugo never thought of himself as an abuser, but he could not stand that fucking squealing.
“Shut up.” He barks, loud enough to be heard, which only seemed to set the filly into fresh peals of squealing. Even worse, the stallion was belting out his own squeals, and seemed to have found some untapped reserves and let out another spray of rank feral fluffy shit. All up the side of the fire pit and onto Hugo’s front.
His temper finally snapped, and he grabbed up both ferals by their scruffs again before the stallion could realize its mistake. Hugo banged the pair’s heads together a second time, this time much harder, the filly finally shut up, mouth going slack as its tongue lolled out, hanging to the side. It was knocked clean out instead of just dazed.
The human let the filly go, letting it drop into the firepit and slide down into the puddle of sewage at the bottom as Hugo lifted the thrashing stallion out with one hand. Its eyes were unfocused and halfway rolled up into its head as it thrashed instinctively, farting as it tried to shit more.
The human slapped the stallion across its fat chops, rocking its head to the side. Its eyes rolled, and started to come to, only for Hugo to slap it again. Backhanded this time, blunt nails stinging sensitive fluffy flesh through its downy fluff. That got its attention, its muddy brown eyes rolling forward again as its mouth turned into a bleeding ‘oh’ of pain.
Before it could say anything, Hugo suddenly yanked the fluffy towards him, the rough handling pulling out fluffy hairs, mashing its face and its gaping mouth against the huge brown smear now setting into Hugo’s good work shirt. The stallion struggled to breathe, only snuffling gobs of its own shit, thrashing against Hugo and the lip of the firepit.
Instead, Hugo shoved the stallion down into the puddle of shit and piss at the bottom of the firepit, shoving the limp filly aside as the stallion was now being drowned in its own waste. It thrashed and struggled, vomiting clumps of what looked like chewed up grass. Hugo was too angry to even notice how the still hot, wet feel of fluffy shit felt on his bare hand or even smelled he was seeing all red.
He hauled the fluffy up, watching as it coughed up brown with threads of red before its mouth opened wide before it gasped for air. Before it could start squealing again, Hugo threw the fluffy down onto the grass, knocking the air out of it. Hugo watched it struggle to breathe at his feet, struggling to regain some control over himself again, only to fail as he bent down and swatted the fluffy hard across its fat flank.
“All fucking over my good work shirt, too, you little fuck.” Hugo growled down at the fluffy.
Seeing those stupid canned words forming on its mouth, Hugo slapped it across its fat piggy snout. “Fw–”
“I said shut the fuck up!” Hugo hissed, and backhanded the stallion next. He won’t let it get a word in edgewise. Hugo turned the fluffy to pin it belly down, where he began swatting its fat butt even harder than its face. All the stallion could do was tear in another groaning breath as Hugo’s open hand went back and forth, its flanks wagging back and forth from the force. He was bruising tender fluffy flesh and muscle deep, making the elder fluffy’s already achy hip joints creak all the more painfully.
“Twenty-fucking-bucks for a fucking ‘sorry stick’. Don’t need no fucking stick when I can beat you with my bare fucking hands!” He growled, somehow managing to keep from shouting in spite of his temper, pulling his slap at the last second as his hand went across the fluffy’s fat nuts for good measure. The slap wasn’t nearly as hard as it was to the fluffy’s butt, but it was obviously far more painful. It’s definitely going to keep it from trying to mate for a few days.
The stallion went limp in Hugo’s hand, graying out from the pain and lack of oxygen from screaming while already trying to catch its breath. Hugo slapped the fluffy across the snout again, “Hey! Don’t you fucking die on me, you little shit. Wake up!”
The fluffy’s unfocused eyes opened again at the command, seeming to have finally skipped its struggling phase and was now trying to beg Hugo to stop. It was still limp, flanks hurting too much to try to run away anymore.
“N-Nuu-huuu. Nu mowe huwties fow fwuffeh, pwease. Nu wan die. Am guud fwuffy.” It moaned through its abused, quickly swelling mouth.
After a much needed nap, Lime woke up with a yawn, only for a bit of dried poopies stuck to his face to fall into his wide-open mouth. The foul taste of it made him clap his chubby mouth back closed on the piece of poopies, which was quickly liquifying again on the saliva on his tongue, and spreading over his worn teeth as he tried to spit it out. Lime gagged and tossed his head, getting dried feral shit all over the previously clean nest of dried hay that had been laid inside of the doghouse before the herd’s arrival.
The herd’s smarty eventually resorted to licking the inside of the doghouse’s wooden walls, luckily not getting a splinter on his tongue; the doghouse’s walls were well smoothed down by years of use by big furry bodies. That being done, he begins struggling out of the doghouse.
Strangely, he found that he was now alone in the doghouse, his dummy special friend Dragonfruit had somehow maneuvered her pregnant bulk out of the little house without waking him. But he was so tired and sore all over after getting kicked by that big fluffy dummy barky monster, bitterly enjoying the memories of it being covered in poopies as he turned himself around in the shit-dusted hay.
Lime turned to see the rest of his herd was dealing with the aftermath of the defeat in much the same way he was: trying to ignore the stink of bad poopies and trying to nap fitfully, most of the other members of the herd having formed different fluff piles depending on the amount of smelly poopies on it. There were even some pairs of special friends trying to give each other licky cleanies, but obviously not enjoying it. He could hear them whining about the no-pretty smelling poopies from where he was.
He also saw his special friend trying to drag her pregnant bulk across the backyard to one of the other doghouses. Specifically, Melon’s doghouse. She even yelled at another fluffy trying to help her not to touch her, as they were covered in poopies, too.
Lime struggled up onto his leggies in outrage, glaring at Dragonfruit’s fat butt. He managed to stand up on his sore legs, waddling after the soon-momma, and coming around in front of her… “Dummeh speshow fwen! Am soon-mummah, gu back to wittow housie!” He yelled at her, voice squeaky with outrage. He knew that was an absurd demand, his special friend regularly visited with other herdmates when things were better. But on an inarticulate instinctual level, he felt the need to consolidate his position after such a glaring defeat, and maintaining the prettiest mare in the herd as his special friend was one way to do so.
Dragonfruit scrunched her face at him in that ugly way again. “Gu ‘way dummeh poopie fwuffy! Am nu dummeh speshow fwend!” She yelled back, the effect not unlike a pair of runty chihuahuas snarling at each other.
Dragonfruit squealed loudly to alert the herd as Lime grabbed hold of the soon-momma’s ear with his mouth and tugged on it, trying to bully her into turning back around. “Screee! Poopie fwuffy gib smawty fwend huwties! Hewp soon-mummah!” She cried out, her stubby legs flailing wildly, trying to push away her attacker, yet another fresh stream of foul shit adding another brown puddle on the backyard lawn.
Melon was among the many who looked up, and was the first to get up. This was his opportunity to directly shape the leadership of the herd. Before anyone could even move to intervene, Melon was stepping out of his doghouse. Periwinkle looked on worriedly, her pretty turquoise eyes glistening with tears of anxiety
Melon was big enough to actually gallop instead of waddle, his fat puke-green body bobbing up and down, something like a rocking horse as he crossed the two yards from one doghouse to the other in about ten seconds. But to the rest of the herd, he was a heroic visage, matted orange mane actually catching some wind in the largely closed off backyard. The big toughy lowered his big head and threw his entire bulk into the side of the poopie fluffy’s side, seemingly being the only one who knew it was the herd’s smarty.
Lime had the air knocked out of him for the second time that day, but this one felt like it hurt a lot more. Dragonfruit voiced his pain for him as she squealed even harder, her ear yanked and twisted painfully in Lime’s mouth as he was suddenly knocked over onto the ground. Her ear thankfully pulled out of his mouth whole at least, but now she was full on bawling as one foreleg pressed against the side of her head. Lime was rubbing off drying poopies on her pretty coat as he rolled back and forth in pain, head pressed against her fat belly.
Melon stood over the herd’s smarty, who stared back up at him with a look of betrayal as he struggled to breathe. “Dummeh poopie fwuffy gib huwties to smawty speshow fwen. Bad poopie fwuffy.” Melon declares, instantly demoting the herd’s smarty from the highest caste to the lowest, lifting a big hoof and giving him bad stompies on the nose. Dragonfruit yelped as Lime’s head was pushed painfully into her swollen belly. Melon bites down on Lime’s scruff and drags him away from the soon-momma.
“Gif dummeh wowstest huwties!” Melon declares once they’re clear of Dragonfruit, tossing his head from side to side, suddenly mauling Lime in a very unhorseish manner. Lime finally found some breath to squeal out in pain as he was thrown from side to side, sore limbs flailing weakly to try to fend the big toughy off.
Instead, other outraged fluffies came over to begin beating on Lime as well, by now well and truly outraged at the poor manners of this upstart. Soft leathery hooves stomped on Lime and weak fluffy jaws nipped at him. To even a domestic bunny they wouldn’t be especially painful from a single fluffy, if a fluffy ever managed to catch up to such a swift creature. But fluffies still have their body weight to throw around. To another fluffy, with their highly sensitive skin and unnaturally soft bones, that was quite a weapon.
Lime felt every blow like a club, every bite like a stab. Even though most didn’t break the skin, his skin made it feel like he was being torn to shreds. He squealed when he managed to get enough air, the high pitched noise piercing through the the instinctive repetitions of ‘wowstest huwties!’ and ‘sowwy hoofsies!’ They gave Lime sorry stompies for good measure. His jaw snapped at one joint, and one hind leg just above the hoof broke to uselessness. Then the piercing pain of a rib snapping in two finally made him pass out.
When Lime finally stopped moving and making noise, the group of punishing fluffies let up, most returning to their previous spots, feeling the sweet high of punishment being meted out justly. The few that stayed helped Melon in dragging the unconscious ex-smarty to the Anderson’s front lawn, effectively banishing Lime by leaving him out in the open by himself.
“Dummeh fwuffy nu mowe in hewd…” Melon sneered, smirking before turning and squatting right over Lime’s swelling face and splattering it with liquid sorry poopies. The three others gleefully did the same, freshening Lime’s stinking brown coating and ensuring he remained unrecognizable as the bright green smarty until well after he was replaced.
The newly-named Walnut had been carefully making her way back to the herd’s temporary den, being extremely careful so as not to draw undue attention to herself, as a lone poopy fluffy. As tired as she was, she kept vigilant as she traveled the three hundred or so feet from one driveway to the other, always ducking under bushes for cover at the least noise. There were other barky monsters in the neighborhood, but thankfully they were further up and down the street.
There were also meowy monsters that were just as dangerous. There were also human children, and as much as Walnut would love to run up to the nearest one and have them sweep her up into their arms and take her home away from the street, the poopy mare had also seen what they can do to fluffies at their mercy. She was afraid, but had accepted her lot in life. And after the tentative olive branch reached out to the meanie human being rejected outright, Walnut’s heart had too many hurties to ever want to try again. Even now, even if survival was overruling her emotional distress, the lone poopy mare had to stop every now and again to wipe away the tears of disappointment from her eyes with her forelegs so her vision would remain clear.
She thought she understood why: Until the meanie human gave her a no-nicey name, she had been a dummy no-name poopy mare that her own herd didn’t like. So it would make sense that a mister, even though he didn’t hurt her like the smarty does, didn’t want to be her daddy even though he named her. Not even because he thought she had also made poopies on his barky monster and grassy land and scared his dummy leggy fluffy.
It was still in the afternoon, so there were thankfully no children to navigate around. They were still in the big housies with all the windows she had seen once when the herd passed through a big open place that the old smarty before Lime said was a play place for the human babies. There was a big brown ball she had eyed wantingly, never having ever gotten to play with a ball before. Other fluffies wanted to play with it, too, but the old smarty told them not to so the human babies didn’t see them.
There was a meowy monster, but it was sunning itself on the front step of its housie. It didn’t pay any attention to the poopy mare at all, which was a relief to her. Still, Walnut did her best not to draw the monster’s attention. She carefully went from bush to bush, hugging the picket fences and hunching low all the while. She was a brown on brown bump that quietly walked along on soft leathery feet.
Walnut stopped and hid when hearing the meanie human that named her come walking up the street behind her, watching him walk past while undoing something around his tummy and his neck as he approached the front of the herd’s current land, and gave bad upsies to two of her herdmates. It was that bratty Princess and Cloud. Princess was a bestest baby, so Walnut didn’t really like her. She always made the poopy fluffies give her licky cleanies, which Walnut always hated to do. Cloud, on the other hand, was part of the original herd, but because of his grey coloring he wasn’t very high up on the herd’s pecking order. He never made the poopy mare give him licky cleanies at least. He hadn’t even ever talked to her. Which she guesses was better than nothing.
Still, the poopy mare couldn’t help but to worry about them. She had to get back to the herd, however, and tell Lime the herd’s smarty that the meanie human was back was mad at the sorry poopies… and that she now had a name. Hopefully he’ll let her not have to stay in the poopy place with the poopy babies anymore. Having grown up as a poopy mare by herself, she felt no special love for the poopy babies except to feel sorry for them, maybe. The littlest one was still a chirpy baby and needed milkies, but she couldn’t make milkies because she’s never had babies, so she thought it was going to go forever sleepies soon. It was just a part of being a poopy fluffy.
Walnut was getting tired and hungry as the afternoon stretched on. Deciding to take a break, the lone fluffy carefully looked out of her hedge cover, carefully stepping into another unclaimed yard to begin nibbling on the still untouched lawn’s freshly cut grass as if it was covered in landmines. Being so short, there wasn’t much for Walnut to graze, so she had to reach further and further out. She made herself stop before long in spite of tummy hurties, she was too worried a meanie human would come bursting out of the door and yell at her for numming their grassies. So she hunkered down to nap for a while instead.
She didn’t get to sleep for long, startled awake by the familiar sound of Princess squealing in the direction of the meanie human’s housie. Walnut shuddered as she listened, feeling more distressed when she heard another fluffy’s squealing, and realized it must be Cloud. She looked towards where the herd must be, but didn’t see anyone investigating.
Lying still and shaking as she listened a while longer, she waited. When she heard them squealing again in pure distress, Walnut made herself get up and get moving again. Motivated by panic, the poopy mare took far less pains to conceal herself, scooting along as quickly as her stubby legs could without outright running. As she neared the herd’s claimed front lawn, she could hear the sounds of more distress. Did the meanie human come back and was he giving her herdmates hurties? Walnut began to run, her fat bean-shaped body waddling as she gained an incremental increase in speed.
Instead of arriving to see the meanie human giving the herd hurties, the first thing she instead saw was the group walking away into the lawn’s backyard. What they left behind was what looked like another poopie fluffy who she’s never seen before. It must have been a lone poopy fluffy the smarty and toughies had just given sorry hoofsies to. And sorry poopies, too, by the smell of it. Walking up to the poopy fluffy, she sniffed at him, checking to see if he was still breathing. He was, thankfully. Still not recognizing him as the herd’s exiled smarty, she looks around the front lawn, then grabs the unknown fluffy by the scruff with her teeth and begins dragging him to cover.