Part Two
“Waek up! Dummeh!”
Buddy groggily opened his eyes, squinting in the bright morning sun. As soon as his vision focused, he began to gasp raggedly, panic setting in. Where was mummah? Where was Snowball?
He was in a rotting cardboard box, without even scraps of cloth or paper to make it livable. The damp cardboard was chilly underneath him, but the alleyway was blessedly sheltered from the wind, and there was some feeble warmth in the sunlight. Still, he felt chilled to the bone from panic.
Had his new mummah and Snowball just been a dream? Was he so desperate for affection that he’d slipped into a fantasy? No, that couldn’t be it, he didn’t feel hungry enough. He’d always been so hungry when he was a stray. Where was he? What was going on?
“Am dummeh fwuffy stoopid ow deaf?”
Buddy finally turned his attention to the fluffy who was speaking, a grizzled and mean looking red unicorn. He was flanked by two big earthies, with a few others behind them. A feral herd. Buddy remembered that the repellant was gone; that must be why they were talking to him instead of running away.
"Tuffies, gib dummeh fwuffy sowwy-hoofsies.
That got Buddy’s attention. He could think about mummah and Snowball later, now he needed to try to find a way out. He’d run afoul of feral herds before, back when his special-friend had been alive, and he still carried some of the scars. Desperately, he looked for an avenue of escape, but the only entrance to the dead-end alleyway was blocked by the herd.
“Wut fwuffy wan’ fwom Buddy?” he asked, trying to think of a way to avoid getting beaten or killed.
“Weww weww weww, wooks wike dummeh fwuffy can tawk!”
“Pwease nu huwt!” Buddy pleaded desperately as the tuffies slowly approached him, enjoying his fear.
“Nu. Smarty an’ tuffies gon’ gib wowstest huwties.”
“WAI?”
“Hoomin wady who weabe dummeh fwuffy hewe gib hewd sketties fow gib dummeh fwuffy wowstest huwties.”
Buddy started trembling, tears blurring his vision as the implication set in. He’d been stupid to trust a human! Stupid! He’d learned nothing from what his old munstah daddeh had done! “Pwease, nu huwt! Buddy am gud fwuffy!”
“Dummeh fwuffy twyin’ tu wie!”
“Smarty nyo wut 'ou did, dummeh! Nice wady teww smarty 'ou wet babbehs gu forebah-sweepies! Nu eben twy sabe dem!”
“Nu! Buddy nu wet babbehs gu forebah-sweepies! Munstah daddeh nu wet Buddy hewp babbehs! Nu teww Buddy babbehs huwt!”
“Dummeh fwuffy! Smarty nu bewiebe ‘ou wies! Gon’ gib wowstest huwties fow mowe sketties! An’,” the smarty’s tone filled with cruel delight. “Hewd gon’ gib wowstest sowwy-enfies tuu!”
“Bu’ Buddy nu am mawe! Pwease, nu hu-”
Buddy’s pleading was interrupted by one of the tuffies slamming into his side, forcing the air from his lungs and sending a wave of pain through him as ribs cracked. His lungs, already weakened from his sickness, couldn’t stand the strain, and as he gasped for air his vision darkened.
“Smarty gon’ wike dis!”
…
Buddy awoke with a gasp of pain. Looking around frantically, he couldn’t see the feral herd, couldn’t see much at all. He was in a dark place, with barely enough space for him to fit under the low ceiling. On either side, dim light creeped in.
Was he dreaming? No, that couldn’t be it, he could still feel the dreadful pain where the tuffy had broken his ribs. Had he managed to escape? Confusion overwhelmed him.
With a gasp of pain, he tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t work, and the effort caused him to break out into a fit of coughing. He had to find a way out before the smarty found him again! He struggled, but he had no strength.
“Pwease, mummah! Sabe Buddy!” he called in desperation. Maybe she was still somewhere close, maybe she’d forgive him…
“There you are!”
A hand reached from outside the cramped space and gently pushed Buddy, eliciting a gasp of pain as his broken ribs protested. As he rolled out, he realized he was in the house, that he’d been under his mummah’s bed. Relief washed over him. He was fine, he was safe.
“Wut happen?”
“You fell off the bed. I guess you rolled under there. Sorry, I didn’t consider that this could happen, Snowball doesn’t move around in her sleep much, so I guess I didn’t think about it.”
“Buddy hab wowstest huwties.”
“Where? Let me take a look at you.”
“Buddy’s side huwts.”
His mummah gently lifted him, making him groan in pain. After a moment, she set him down on the bed once more. He gratefully collapsed, the softness of the bed easing the pain of his ribs a little.
“Looks like you might’ve cracked a rib or two. I’ll take you to the vet so we can make sure it’s not too bad.”
“Buddy!” Snowball called, entering the room, out of breath and with tears in her eyes. “Snowbaww wewe scawed! Buddy nu were in nestie ow bed! Snowbaww nu wan Buddy tu wun 'way!”
“Buddy nu wun 'way. Buddy onwy feww off bed.”
“Am Buddy otay?”
“Buddy wab huwties, bu’ nu am tuu bad. Buddy wiww be otay.”
Snowball ran up to the bed and adopted the upsies pose. After being placed upon the bed, she rushed over to Buddy, looking concerned. “Wut happen?”
“Buddy wab scawy sweepie-time-pictuhs. Faww, get huwties.”
Snowball tried to move closer to him, but stopped when her hooves encountered cold dampness. Looking down, she saw the puddle on the bedsheets.
“Nuuuu! Bad peepees!”
Buddy began shaking. He’d made bad peepees after his mummah had told him not to! He was a bad fluffy! With a quavering voice he began to beg. “Buddy nu mean maek bad peepees! Pwease nu weabe Buddy! Buddy nu mean be bad fwuffy!”
“What?” mummah looked away from her talkie-box, voice preoccupied. “That’s not important right now. I have to get your ribs checked out.”
“Mummah nu angwy at Buddy?”
“Because you made a mess? Not really, no. It happens. Eventually I’ll learn not to let fluffies sleep in my bed.”
“Buddy nu am bad fwuffy?”
“Buddy, your old daddeh really messed you up, didn’t he?” Mummah sighed. “You’re not a bad fluffy because you had one accident.”
“Tank 'ou, mummah! Buddy pwomise wiww be gud!”
“That’s not what I’m saying, damn it!” The fluffies cowered at the sudden anger and the use of meanie words. “You don’t have to try so hard. I’m not your old daddeh, I’m not going to abandon you.”
“Bu’ bad fwuffies nu git tu wibe in housies! Onwy hab huwties and forebah-sweepies! Huu huu huu! Buddy maek mummah angwy!”
“I’m not…” Mummah cut off mid-sentence. “Look, let’s just get you two breakfast and then we can get you to the vet. Come on.” She began to walk away.
“Mummah, fwuffies nu can git down fwom bed.”
“Right.”
After being set down on the floor, Snowball made her way to the saferoom, Buddy following. He was still surprised by how nice it was, after living in the bleak “saferoom” his old daddeh had kept him in. His stomach growled at the thought of food.
“Sketties?” he asked, hopefully.
“No, you can’t have sketties too often. They’re not good for you. You’ll have kibble most of the time, sketties are for special occasions.”
Buddy was a little sad about having kibble. He remembered it from his old daddeh’s house, and it was barely better than the trash he’d scavenged while living on his own. Still, it was better than nothing, and he’d eat anything right about now. His body, too long denied nutrients, was crying out for sustenance.
He half-heartedly took a bite of the offered kibble, and nearly choked out of surprise. Far from the hard, tasteless kibble he was used to, this was soft and flavorful. How could this be kibble? Was he going to be allowed to eat something this good every day?
“Tank 'ou, mummah, fow bestest kibbwe!”
“What? This is just normal kibble…oh, right, asshole dad. He was probably feeding you bad-fluffy kibble instead.”
“Bu’ Buddy nu am bad fwuffy?”
“No, he just had a bad daddeh. Eat up, Buddy, we need to leave.”
“Otay, mummah. Tank 'ou.”
Buddy chowed down, enjoying every bite. The concept of nummies tasting good that weren’t sketties was a bit difficult for him to understand. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to not want to eat.
In spite of the pain in his side, he was feeling better than he had since his babbehs had been born. For the first time in so long, he felt optimistic. Maybe he was meant to be happy. Somehow, he didn’t want to go forever-sleepies anymore. But when he thought like this he felt a twinge of guilt. How could he have a happy life when his family was gone?
Sowwy, babbehs. Sowwy, speciaw-fwiend. Buddy nu wiww see 'ou soon.
Part Four
26 Likes
Awwww. Poor Buddy. He has survivor’s guilt. Hang in there!
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I was bit scared that everything was just a dream for him until he was actually dreamin, relief
I feel sorry for buddy all those abuse cause him to be trumatized and bad nightmares 
4 Likes
Poor Buddy. Being miserable won’t bring your family back, live to keep their memory alive. Honor them by living the life you wanted them all to have.
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I have a sneaking suspicion he may be wrong.
That’s assuming this is a long con mega emotional manipulation and each time they go to sleep they’re abandoned etc and then recollected and gas lighted that everythings great when they wake up.