Part Ten
The smarty gurgled as he tried to spit out the feeding tube, as he tried to move his useless limbs. The munstah lady hadn’t even had the mercy to cut them off, instead leaving them shattered, bone fragments grating together at the slightest movement, and just pumping him so full of antibiotics that infection hadn’t taken him yet. He wished, for the millionth time, that he wasn’t a smarty, that he could just go catatonic like a normal, dummeh fluffy. But he was denied that.
“Well, looks like Phlegm is still alive! Isn’t that lucky!”
Nu! Nu am wucky! Pwease wet smawty die! he shrieked into the unending darkness.
“Yay! Candy am su happy!”
The smarty perked up a little. A mare was happy to see him? And her voice sounded so pretty! It was a small comfort, but the thought of being loved by a mare, after his special-friend died, was so nice. Maybe…maybe she’d even be willing to go all the way. Yes, if she really loved him, maybe she’d be willing to bring her beautiful self over to him.
And maybe if she was a very nice mare she’d be willing to touch a mutilated and disfigured fluffy like him. The thought sent waves of bliss through his mind. He yearned to feel her touch, feel the pressure of her skin on his. He quivered in anticipation at the euphoric thought of her pummeling him until he finally left this misery behind.
None of that happened, though, and he smelled something, and his body reacted. The mare pressed herself against him, and in spite of the agony of his legs, he felt bliss as his too-long-denied lumps emptied themselves. More than physical, though, was the mental relief he felt. He’d leave behind a legacy when he was finally allowed to die.
“Candy gon’ hab pwettiest babbehs nao! Tank 'ou, mummah!”
…
The smarty couldn’t tell how much time passed. Each moment seemed like an eternity, and without his eyes he couldn’t judge night and day. His best estimate was that it’d been a few billion forevers, but that might’ve been a little on the low side.
He wished each moment he could die, escape his trauma-ridden shell of a body. Skettiland or oblivion, either was fine at this point. He just wanted an ending, any ending. He just needed to die.
Then he heard a sound, a sound that reached deep into his psyche and pressed buttons, a sound that forced him back into full awareness. Chirping foals. His mind raced, making connections, and he realized that these were his foals.
“Candy, show your babbehs their daddeh.”
“Otay, mummah! Hewe am daddeh, babbehs! Daddeh nu mobe awound ow tawk, but Candy nyo he wubs babbehs vewy much!”
The smarty desperately wished he could see them, talk to them, play with them. Somehow, the thought of them made him want to live more. They were his last lifeline.
“Can Candy hab mowe babbehs nao?”
“No. You have enough babbehs for now. You can have more once those are grown.”
“Bu’ wan pwetty babbehs! Dummeh stawwion onwy gib ugwy babbehs! Wan mowe babbehs!”
“If you want more babbehs, those will have to go forever-sleepies.”
The smarty twitched, the feeble movement all he could muster. Even that made his nerves sear with agony as his splintered legs sliced themselves apart anew. How could the munstah lady say that? How could she want to kill foals?
“Otay. Nu wub dummeh ugwy babbehs. Mummah can gib fowebah-sweepies.”
The smarty’s efforts to speak redoubled, but he could only gurgle incoherently around the feeding tube. No! She couldn’t let the munstah lady kill his babbehs! Unbidden, memories of the pain and sadness he and his special-friend had felt when they realized she could never have babbehs resurfaced, and he wept. How could the world be so cruel?
“Okay. You can have for babbehs, then.”
“Yay! Candy wub habin’ nyu babbehs!”
This time, the mare’s touch brought only revulsion, as he realized that she was a munstah, a munstah just like the lady who’d made him like this. He sobbed, unable to fight back as the munstah mare violated him. She left him feeling even more broken than before.
“Okay, Candy, go back to the saferoom. I’ll get rid of the babbehs for you.”
“Otay, mummah! Tank ‘ou fow kiwwin’ ugwy babbehs fow Candy!”
A minute passed, or maybe a thousand years, the smarty couldn’t tell. Then, he felt something. The feeding tube being pulled out. He coughed violently, sobbing and retching and wailing all at once. Then the munstah lady spoke.
“Looks like your babbehs aren’t good enough.”
“Pwease, nice wady,” the smarty rasped. “Nu kiww babbehs. Babbehs nu du nuffin’ wong.”
“Neither did either of my fluffies, but you wanted to kill them. Actually, you wanted to give them bad-enfies, then kill them. Fair’s fair. So now you get to hear me do the same thing to your babbehs.”
“NU! Pwease nu!”
“SCREEEE! MUMMAH! NU PUT MEANIE STICK IN POOPIE PWACE! BABBEH HAB BIGGEST OWWIES!”
The smarty began to struggle, heedless of the agony his movements caused, as he heard the munstah lady kill his foals, one by one. “Nu…babbehs nu am fow bad enfies…pwease, munstah wady, nu kiww babbehs!”
…
The cycle repeated, how many times the smarty didn’t know. The munstah mare violated him again and again, and each time he heard his foals die horrible deaths. Each time, he was allowed to speak, but his pleading was ignored. Each time, he fell deeper into despair.
“Okay,” the munstah lady said one day. “I think you’ve been through enough. Are you ready to die?”
“Smawty am weady.”
“That’s good. I think it’s fair you get to die now. You’ve been punished enough.”
“Tank 'ou, nice wady.”
The blindfold was pulled away, and once again he was confronted with the terrifying grin. “But I don’t play fair.”
“Nuuuuuuuu!”
…
Wan die! Wan die! Wan die! Wan die! the smarty thought over and over, unable to voice his desire around the feeding tube. Unlike before, he wasn’t blind-folded, but that only made it worse. He sat in a box, one-way window showing Buddy and Snowball living their life, blissfully unaware of the suffering smarty.
His legs had finally been removed, but that was small comfort. The soft bed he lay on was more terrible than anything he could have imagined. It was made of many small patches of different-colored fluff.
…
Alice wasn’t proud of what she’d done to the smarty. It was probably grossly disproportionate to the punishment the creature deserved, but she didn’t particularly care. It did her good to be able to vent the stress of raising fluffies sometimes. She wondered if the smarty realized it’d only been a few weeks since he’d first showed up. Probably not, fluffies had a poor grasp of time, suffering fluffies more so.
At least now she could throw away the enfie-toy and uninstall the foal-torture simulator app. Candy, the fluffy-voice-generator app, though, she’d keep, and maybe she’d make a blanket for him out of faux-fluff patches too. Just in case she felt the need to make him feel even worse.
[Part Eleven](Buddy & Snowball Pt. 11 [By MuffinMantis]
19 Likes
Alice seems to be going off the deep end, understandable when you’re trying to protect your pets and they’re too dumb to be worth protecting, but it does make me a little iffy about how she’ll handle Buddy and Snowball going forward.
With any luck it’s out of her system now, but she still needs to work on Snowball’s sheltering.
7 Likes
ahhh… Like Rum and Coke after a 11 our shift. God damn i love me some Smarty Abuse.
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Agreed. Though the fact she still keeps him there…
Dunno, might already be too late for her. She even acknowledged the punishment was disproportionate, yet she didn’t just end it.
2 Likes
I honestly thought she was going to shove them up the smarties ass and kill him. xD
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