Nigel sighs as he slowly opens his front door, revealing the face of his neighbor, Rodger, who lived just a few houses down the street from him. Rodger was a nice old man who loved conversating with anyone willing to listen, and Nigel just liked having a kind old-head around to shoot the shit with.
“Mornin’ there, Lad!”
Rodger greets Nigel with a warm smile as a few beads of sweat slowly drip down the sides of his face.
“Morning old top!”
Nigel happily returns the greeting before taking a step out his front door and closing it behind him. Wouldn’t want anyone to hear what he was doing inside after all!
“What brings you to my neck of the woods on this beautiful sweltering Summers day?”
Nigel holds his hand out toward his elderly neighbor. Rodger happily takes and shakes Nigel’s outstretched hand, making sure to release it before pulling a dingy cloth from his front shirt pocket and dabbing his sweating bald head.
“Well, y’see, the missus just purchased a new-fangled auto-light contraption to keep the night critters away from her garden. These old hands aren’t what they used to be, and my old tired eyes have seen their better days. Could you come over to help her hang the damn thing up? She also told me to bribe you with one of these!”
Nigel watches in curiosity as Rodger slowly produces a bright red tomato from a small back hanging at his side. Nigel’s face instantly lights up with recognition. Rodger and his wife, though probably older than the dirt their house was built on, were gardening pros. Rodger’s wife didn’t just have a green thumb. She may as well have been an entire jolly green giant with the amazing quality fruits and veggies she could grow.
Nigel feels his mouth begin to reflexively water as he slowly reaches forward, taking the tomato in his hands before happily digging into it like it was an apple grown straight from the garden of Eden. The tomato was so full of flavor, with the perfect texture that hit the inside of one’s mouth in just the right way to make it all the more satisfying to consume. Rodger simply laughs as he watches Nigel scarf the fruit down, waiting for him to finish his snack before addressing him again as the juices from the perfectly ripened produce drip down Nigel’s chin and onto his shirt.
“Well young’in, there are plenty more snacks where that came from if you wanna-”
Nigel had already taken a few steps down his porch toward the street leading toward Rodgers small house. Rodger glances around briefly in confusion before turning around to see Nigel already opening his front gate again.
“LETS GO OLD MAN! THOSE LIGHTS AREN’T GONNA HANG THEMSELVES!”
Rodger happily belly laughs as he slowly makes his way back down Nigel’s porch stairs, leading the young man out of the yard and down the street toward his and his wife’s home.
Butter sits and waits, shivering in absolute terror as she stairs at her safe-room door. Her blanket had absorbed most of the liquid mess she had created trying to wash it in her bowl, and the smell had slowly began to creep up into her eyes and nostrils. The burning sensation causing her nose and eyes to water didn’t seem to faze her as she simply sits and stares in terror.
She hides behind her hoofies for a few seconds. Then a few more. It soon began to feel like more forevers than she could count on all her hoofies had passed before finally pulling her hoofies down from her see-places. She shakes as her hoofies lower, and her voice is quiet as a church mouse.
“D…Daddeh…?”
She’s met with only silence as a subtle breeze from Nigel’s air conditioner slowly pushes the cracked door ever so slightly more ajar. Butter watches in stunned silence, waiting for a scolding that wouldn’t come. She waits another moment before slowly climbing to her soiled hooves and waddling toward the door over the soggy ruined carpet. Her tiny hooves made uncomfortable squishing noises much like someone walking over a mud puddle in bare feet as she slowly approaches the door.
“Daddeh…? Buttah am sowwy fow’ bad…Poop…ies…?”
Butter’s apology slowly fades back into silence as she gently pushes her head through the crack in the door, causing it to slowly swing open just enough for her to fit her body through.
At first, she does nothing but take a few quick peaks behind the door. Where was her daddeh? Did he disappear? Was she gonna be in trouble? Was her daddeh going to give her a punishment for ruining her favorite soft blankie?
As these questions Wizz through her tiny head, Butter suddenly feels a slight warm breeze coming from the down the hall from her saferoom. Nigel allowed her to roam around the house during the day, but only when he was home with her. The saferoom door was open, but her daddeh was nowhere to be seen!
“Daddeh…? Buttah’ am sowwy for mak’ bad-poopies aww ovah’ bwankie… Nu’ gif huwties pwease?”
Butter cautiously takes a few steps out from the safe room and into the adjoining hallway. She swings her head from side to side, sniffing the ground and air around her. She could smell her daddeh, so he had to be close by. Except her daddeh didn’t respond to her cries of apology.
“Daddeh? Am daddeh hewe? Buttah am sowwy Daddeh! Nu’ hidies fwom Buttah pwease daddeh!!”
Butter slowly began to panic as she continued the search down the hallway. How would she clean up for her daddeh if her daddeh wasn’t there? Where could he have gone? Was he just so mad at Butter for covering her blankie and saferoom in scardie-poopies that he left her all by herself?
Tears begin to pool beneath butters saddening eyes as she begins waddling around Nigel’s house as fast as her pudgy shit-stained hoofies could carry her. She frantically searches every place she can think of, every step leaving another shit colored heart-shaped hoof print on the soft clean carpet as she continues searching. It didn’t take much longer for her to devolve into a full-blown panic attack as she finds herself sitting between the door leading to the garage and the opening to the kitchen.
“DADDEH?! WHEW’ AM DADDEH?! HUUHUU BUTTAH AM SOWWY FOW’ BEIN BAD POOPIE-FWUFFIE DADDEH!! HUUHUU PWEASE NU’ MAKE HIDIES’ FWOM SOON-MUMMMMMMMMPHH”
Butter feels herself slipping back into her freshly acquired instinctual habit of calling herself a “soon-mummah”. She quickly throws herself the ground, forcing her eyes shut covering her snout with her poo-crusted hoofies in an attempt to correct herself once again.
Butter sits there shivering for a few seconds before peaking up at the empty house around her. Once again, her cries of fear and desperation are met with only silence as it fills the air around her. She slowly leans back up, coming to a resting-sitting position on her back leggies as she glances at the walls around her.
She begins to cry to herself again as she trots down the hallway leading toward the doors leading to the garage and bedrooms. Her daddeh, it seemed, had abandoned her inside his big nice housie. She deserved it. She was a bad poopie-fluffie and she knew it. Only bad fluffies make bad-poopies all over their nice things, and Butter’s mood began to nose-dive straight into the ground. How would she find nummies for her soon-babbehs? How would she be able to make milkies or a new clean nestie? How would she-
THUMP
Butter’s moment of thought is interrupted by a door that she finds herself slamming into nose-first. She wasn’t paying attention during her panic attack and failed to notice herself drifting to the side before finally coming to an abrupt stop at the door leading into Nigel’s garage.
“OWIE!!! huuhuu smeww-pwace haf’ huwties!! huuhuu huwties am bad fow’ soon-mummah…”
Butter slowly trails off as the words leave her mouth, causing her to take a few frantic glances around her to make sure she was still alone. Suddenly, she turns her attention back to the door, sniffling one last time as the pain in her snout is immediately forgotten. A familiar smell gently floats by, kissing the inside of her nose for only a brief moment before disappearing into the normal smell of poopies and daddeh’s housie.
“Speshew-fwien…?”
Butter forces her face into the crack below the door. She smells every inch of it, sliding her nose under the door from one side to the other like a bloodhound on the chase. Her body begins to tense up and fill with an unnatural amount of anxious energy as a familiar smell she hadn’t smelt in so many forevers now floods all of her senses.
“BIG-WIG!! BUTTAH AM HEWE’!! WHEW AM’ SPESHEW-FWIEN?? NU CAN’ WEACH OU’!!”
She screams into the tiny half-inch of space beneath the door as she frantically tries to paw her way under the the door. She uselessly beats her squishy dirty hooves into the carpet until her leggies begin to cramp up. She could smell big rig on the other side of this meanie door! She hadn’t seen him in so many forevers, and all she wanted now was huggies and love from her special-friend.
“Dummeh-meanie doow!! Wai’ nu’ wet Buttah outies?! Wet Big-Wig gu ow’ Buttah gif wostes’ huwties!!”
Butter rears up onto her hind legs and stretches her front hoofies as high as she can reach, slamming them down onto the door with all of her strength. She continues to hit the door again and again and again, every hit causing it to rumble just a bit louder. Before long, the worn out rusted door latch finally gives.
Butter was already mid-swing as the door unlatched, causing her to slam the door open and go tumbling down onto the cold cement floor face-over-ass. The side of her face hits the floor with a solid SMACK, sending a reverberation of pain shooting through every inch of her head and down her back.
“OOWWwwiees…”
Her world starts to spin as she becomes dizzier and dizzier before she unleashes a flood of sickie-wawas all over the smooth concrete floor. She didn’t realize it, but she was less than half an inch away from derping herself from the concussion. The thing that had managed to keep her safe was the very small amount of extra body fat that had spread down her face from her horn stump in the first few days of her pregnancy.
“huuhuu nu’ tas-pwetty… Thinkie-pwace huwtiesss… Nu wike sickie-wawa… huuhuu-”
“Pwease…Nu’ huwties…”
Butter nearly jumps out of her skin, sending another surge of pain straight through her aching head. She whimpers and hugs her snout before that familiar smell once again began to overwhelm her senses. This time however, her suspicions were finally confirmed. A smooth not-boxie thing loomed over Butter as she slowly climbs to her feet once more. She could have sworn she had just heard-
“pwease… Nee… wawa… nu wan’ dwink-”
“SPESHEW-FWIEN?! IS’ SOON-MUMMAH!! BUTTAH HEWE’ SPESHEW-FWIEN!!”
Butter ignores the pain now coursing through her scull as she begins running around the plastic barrel Big-Rig was being held in.
Big-Rig could hear Butters voice, but assumed it was his thinkie-place playing meanie tricks on him. He had been dehydrated for so long that he assumed everything around him was just some kind of mean trick the monster human was playing on his thinkie-place.
“Thinkie…Pwace…Nu’ pway twickies… On big…wig…”
Butter continues running laps around the bin, desperately searching for some way to rescue Big-Rig as his softly spoken words slowly sink into her ears. Her heart began pumping harder and harder, sending more and more blood up to her injured head until-
A sudden surge of immense burning behind her eyes causes Butter to trip over her own hoofies and tumble forward, landing back onto the cold cement floor with a THUD.
She already knew she couldn’t help Big-Rig right now. There was just no way. If her daddeh decided to come back and found her like this, he would find out about everything. She couldn’t put the safety of hers and big-rigs soon-babbehs at risk. Her head throbs as she looks around the colorless garage, then back toward the door she had entered through.
“Buttah… Nu’ can saf’ speshew-fwien… Bu’ can saf’ tummeh-babbehs…”
She reaches up one last time, resting her two front hoofies onto the plastic barrel one last time as a few stray tears drip down into her cheek-fluff.
“Wuv’ ou’ Big-Wig… Pwease nu’ teww daddeh dat’ Buttah am soon-mummah… Pwease hewp Buttah’ pwotec’ tummeh-babbehs…”
She gives the plastic bin one last smell to remember Big-Rigs scent before quickly shuffling back toward the door she had tumbled through. She climbs the few small steps as quickly as she can, failing to notice her tail snagging the bottom of the door as she climbs the final step back into the carpeted hallway. The door, with it’s now broken latch, quietly pulls to a close and gently releases Butter’s tail.
Big-Rig, being consumed in bile and trapped in the bin, couldn’t smell Butter. That voice sounded like Butter though. What did she say? Soon-mummah? Tummeh-babbehs? Was he gonna be a soon-daddeh? Pwotect babbehs…?
Big-Rigs mind races to a speeding point, causing him to pass out from the mental exhaustion.
A loud chiming signals the passing of 2pm, one full hour after Nigel was suppose to give Butter her lunch. He was currently being distracted by the amazing food Rodger and his wife were bribing him with to finish some home repairs for them. Butter had given up questioning where her Daddeh was, and just assumed he had dissapeared to do daddeh things.
Butter’s thinkie-place throbs as she slowly shuffles her way back to her safe-room. Along the way, she begins to notice the mess she had left behind during her earlier tantrum. Slowly, and without a single word, she begins to lick the stains clean from the carpet. Her tongue, nose, and eyes burn with the smell and taste, but she simply ignores it in favor of thinking about what she had just found in that room.
The amount of raw emotion she was feeling after finding Big-Rig completely overwhelmed any other feelings of discomfort she was currently feeling as she slowly and methodically licked each and every shit-print clean from the carpet until not a single stain could be seen in the hallway. Her head had stopped hurting by the time she had finished as well. In fact, the carpet almost looked cleaner than before!
Butter’s tongue lulls dryly from her mouth she slowly waddles into her saferoom. Before her sat the absolute shit-storm that she had caused a few hours earlier, now hardened and dried from the sunlight pouring through a nearby window. Her daddeh’s warning about cleaning her blanket suddenly echos back through her head, and the familiar pain from before begins to slowly throb behind her eyes.
“Buttah… Nee’ wawa…”
She turns and slowly walks up to her soiled water dish. Instead of clean refreshing wawa’s though, she only finds dry poopies and the bone-dry bottom of the bowl. She had almost forgotten about her poor attempt at cleaning her blankie until now. Her head throbs again, this time her tummeh stirs as well. She clenches her teeth against the pain behind her eyes as she meticulously licks the bowl clean. The pain remains for only a moment longer before the feeling in her tummeh causes it to completely fade away.
“Tummeh-babbehs…? Soon-mummah Buttah’ am feew’ tummeh-babbehs?!”
Butter’s body floods with a rush of pure bliss and excitement as she feels her tummah-babbehs fro the first time. In her excitement, Butter notices a small beam of light gleaming off a nearby surface. She slowly approaches it to find one of her toys, a rubber bowl-fluffy used to teach diversity amongst fluffy species, seemed to have a small pool of clean water floating within it’s artificial belly dent. Butter’s excitement only grew upon the realization of what she had just discovered.
She hugs her tummeh as tightly as she can with absolute glee.
“Tank ou’ Tumme-Babbehs!! Hewp soon-mummah fin’ bestes’ wawas!!”
Butter quickly leans her head down, making sure she can lap up every last drop of water from within the small rubber toy. As she gets to the bottom and licks up the final few drops, she triggers the toy’s internal speech-box.
“TEEHEE, DAT’ TIKEWS!”
Butter jumps back in surprise, causing the pain in her head to resurface as her gaze suddenly lands on the shit-crusted blanket she had just landed on. The smell had lessened by now, but the dried up shit was everywhere. It was only complimented by the many vibrant and dark yellow piss stains that dotted the area as well. Butter feels her head throb, and her expression drops once again.
“Dummeh bow-fwuffy stuffy-fwien…”
She mumbles to herself before slowly bending over the first of many bad poopie and peepee stains. She once again ignores the taste, smell, and burning sensation instead thinking about how to save Big-Rig as she slowly and methodically licks and nibbles each and every stain until it disappears.
The clock chimes from the living room signaling the passing of 7:00pm. Nigel barges through his front door, bandages and paint covering his arms, legs, and face. This however, didn’t deter him from having a grin as big as the out-doors. He kicks off his shoes and shuffles to the kitchen, his arms filled to the brim with paper bags filled with fresh produce of all kinds. As a way to say thank you for all of Nigel’s hard work that day, Rodger and his Wife allowed him to take as much fresh food from their garden as he pleased.
Even after filling more paper bags than he could hold with both his hands, their garden still seemed to have more than enough produce to harvest and sell for a healthy profit. Nigel wondered how they did it, but shoo’d the thoughts from his head as he carefully stored every last fruit, veggie, nut, bean, and all other forms of produce into their respective areas to keep them nice and fresh.
He cracks open a jar of fresh apple cider, pouring it into a cup over ice before adding a shot of gin and sipping for taste. He grins giddily before adding another shot of gin and taking another sip. What an amazing day! It’s as if he had let go of all of his responsibilities for a moment just to enjoy a relaxing… Day… Off…
“THANK YOU FOR TUNING IN, MUMMAH’S AND DADDEH’S AROUND THE WORLD!”
Nigel takes another swig of his drink before the reality slowly begins to set in. He grins and giggles, taking another sip of his drink.
“Huh… Kinda sounds like one of those stupid shows Butter…watches…”
He takes another sip, reaching the bottom of the glass. Before lowering it however, his gaze is drawn through the bottom of the glass toward a picture of Butter that was taped to the fridge.
“Oh fuck-”
Nigel quickly scrambles to the sink, grabbing a large plastic bottle and throwing under some running water to fill while he quickly fumbles through one of his cabinets. His hands finally land on a can of Hasbio brand “Insta-Sketti”.
He grabs the bottle from the sink, using it to turn the sink off and splashing water everywhere as he struggles to simultaneously open the can of Fluffy chow. He drunkenly stumbles down the hall, taking a moment to admire just how soft the carpet felt against his toes before pushing his way through Butter’s saferoom door.
There inside, he see’s butter fast asleep in her bed, wrapped up in her perfectly clean nesting blanket. The window was letting in a steady breeze of cool-night air, giving the saferoom the smell and feeling of being outside on a perfect summer night.
He glances over at her empty water and food bowls, his eyebrow raising ever-so-slightly in suspicion. Where these bowels this clean when Nigel had left earlier today? Jeez, Butter must have been desperate to have licked her food and water bowels THIS clean. He pulls his phone from his pocket, pulling up his nanny-cam app as the television blares out another one of it’s stupid fluffy jingles.
Without a word, Nigel slowly fills Butter’s food and water bowls as quietly as he could, leaving a small piece of cherry flavored soft-candy next to Butter as a treat for being so well behaved while he was gone. He gives Butter a gentle scratch behind her ears before quickly retreating from her saferoom and quietly shutting the door behind him. He returns is attention to his phone, playing back the footage from earlier today, failing to notice the tiny drop of dried blood leaking from one of her ears.
“Jeez, maybe I was too hard on her. She did everything I asked, and then some. Maybe I was too hard on her. Maybe she is well behaved enough to have…”
Nigel trails off from his thought as he gazes down at the feed replaying on his phone. He watches as Butter covers her saferoom in all manor of bodily fluids before trailing it all out into the hallway. Nigel swipes over to another feed, one of another nanny cam hidden on a shelf in his hallway. He watches and listens as Butter drags the mess outside of her saferoom before breaking into the garage. He mentally kicks himself in the ass for not changing the latch sooner before returning his attention to his phone screen.
He continues watching every second of the playback, all the way until Butter breaks into the garage where there was no active camera feed. He watches as Butter uses her tail to close the door behind her before detail licking every single stain she had left on the carpet. Hell, she even cleaned stains she didn’t leave herself. Nigel assumes that why the carpet looked and felt much nicer earlier.
Finally, he skims through the last few hours of footage from Butter’s saferoom. He watches her clean every last mess, even ones he didn’t notice until she had cleaned them. More than watching though, he listens. He listens to Butter call herself “soon-mummah”. He listens to her address her “tummeh-babbehs”. He listens to her reveal her pregnancy to Big-Rig, then ask him not to tell Nigel about her future children.
Nigel had already made himself another drink by now, going over every second of footage again and again, marveling at just how craft Butter was becoming. Not once though, did she take a single second to question her actions or lying to her daddeh. Not once did she think about Nigel, his rules, or how he felt. He might have even said yes to her keeping the foals if she had asked by now.
Nigel takes another swig from his 3rd drink before turning on a new video from his phone. A happy voice sings out from his phone speakers as he tunes his attention to the screen.
“Remember though, fluffy owners, this spice should be heavily avoided in cooking. It’s so potent, that even expecting mares know this could potentially harm their tummy-babies just by it’s smell alone.”