Hey everyone! First of all, a big thanks for keeping up as I write these, and thanks very much for the comments, I love discussing my stories with others so feel free to ask away.
(Also I format/write on my phone, sorry if it looks weird! Let me know if I can improve it in any way!)
For any new readers, you can catch up below:
Also special thanks to @BFM101 for a great name ideas for momma! I haven’t settled on either of the two cause I find them very good, but she’s gotten a temporary name as you’ll soon see while I continue to debate on the two.
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The door swings open, creaking loudly as it usually does. Charlie immediately looks back down at the comedically enormous mare. She still hasn’t noticed she’s been set down. Charlie thinks he could even roll her and she wouldn’t notice.
“Hey, pay attention. We’re home now.” Charlie says to the mare as he nudges her head with his free hand. She’s back in reality, no more baby land. She doesn’t necessarily process Charlie’s words as easily as Rimjob, but she understands entering the house more than anything. She’s home.
Charlie flicks the lights on in the dining room, before walking past it. The mare however notices the kitchen, with a large jar of unopened tomato sauce sitting next to the stove. It’s time, time for sketties in her mind.
She looks at Charlie, she needs to tell him. Now. “Awmost mummah wan’ sketties, nao! soon mummah nee’ make bestes’ miwkies, pwetty babbehs nee’ gwow stwong an’ big to pwotect daddeh an’ mummah!” She bobs her head in joy as she coos after this statement, hoping her new dad will grant this request.
Charlie ignores it, he’s ready to set this giant overstuffed oaf down, his arms are sore and the one holding the mare is just about ready to give from the weight it supports. He truly didn’t anticipate the fluffy weighing this much. The mare seems annoyed at this den, her dad isn’t obeying her demands for sketties! The prospect of being fed sketties is all the mare cares about now that she’s entered the home. She NEEDS sketties, her stomach hurts and her babies need food, this is something she feels the need to stress again.
“Dummeh daddeh nu heaw awmost mummah? Nee’ sketties nao! Tummy hab wowstes’ huwties of aww time. Mummah nu can gib babbehs bestes’ miwkies if nu num sketties! Why daddeh nu wisten to soon mummah, why meanie?!?” The mare is furious, she’s starving and hasn’t ate in 3 hours, this is unforgivable to her!
Charlie grunts and looks meanly, but the mare doesn’t notice. She’s still mumbling about babies and spaghetti. She attempts to repeat herself and only gets a few words in.
“Daddeh nu heaw fwuffy? Dummeh daddeh nu’ heaw awmost mu-” She’s interrupted by a suddenly fuming Charlie, his voice booming over her own, drowning it.
"I HEARD YOU, SHIT FOR BRAINS, I FUCKING IGNORED YOU. YOU DON’T NEED SPAGHETTI, YOU NEED TO SHUT THE HELL UP AND LET ME GET YOU SITUATED BEFORE YOU ASK FOR ANYTHING! GOT IT SHIT FOR BRAINS?!? A wicked expression fills Charlie’s face. He is not happy.
“SCREEEEEEEEEE” The bloated mare wriggles under Charlie’s arm. “Munsta daddeh! daddeh gib wowstes’ scawe to Shitfowbwains! nu wike bad munsta daddeh upsies!” She wriggles harder. Charlie attempts to keep her held, but she’s moving more with every passing second. He’s trying his hardest to keep his hold but she’s slipping and the idiot trying to get away doesn’t help him much.
“Hold still you dumbass! Stop moving! You’re gonna fall right on my st-” The warning is useless, the disobedient mare is wriggling like no other.
Then it happens. She falls from under Charlie’s arm, before smacking stomach first into a small step stool Charlie uses. “HUUUGHLK” a sound escapes her mouth as she bounces off the stool, and then slams into the wall, only a foot away from the stool. It’s almost comedic how she bounced. Had she not been pregnant Charlie might’ve actually got a chuckle from it, after all if she just kept still, it wouldn’t have happened to begin with.
The narrow hallway seems so much smaller with this massive mare laying there. She’s shit herself, and she’s currently pissing. All over as she screes and wriggles to no use. Her matted coat already full of dried shit, only to get a fresh layer as well as the wall. The thick purple fluff is truly coated with an unnecessary amount. Is this mare really that fucking lazy or is she just clumsy?
Charlie isn’t quite sure himself, but he is already over the mare’s freak out. If she’s really that bad at using the bathroom, he might have to consider a litter pal. He really doesn’t want to get a litter pal for her, it’s bad enough there’s two adults with foals coming soon, he already detests the prospect of a third adult, even if he’s confined to the litter box.
He moves towards her and pins her down, not like she was moving anywhere in the first place, but it sets a tone. It’s a hard press, uncomfortable for the mom. It makes her worried that her and her babies might actually be in danger from this fall and pressure. She’s moving more and more every second.
Charlie grabs her by the scruff, holding her head still so she can look at nothing but the now furious Charlie. His mouth opens unleashing a quieter, but just as intense voice. The mare recoils before the first word even leaves his mouth. She’s pissed herself again somehow.
“Knock it the fuck off or I’ll send your babies to the shelter and you’ll only get shit to eat from here on out. I own you now, that means you obey my rules, you do what I say, you do not even think about doing anything without asking me, you will do what I fucking say!” Charlie snarls as he says this. He’s serious, despite not hating fluffies, he HATES disobedience, and this is getting on his nerves, badly.
The only way Charlie can think of punishing the mare is by pushing her into the corner, letting her stew in her mess. He doesn’t have the patience to mop or clean right now, but the mare’s coat is thick, perfect for soaking up her own mess. Charlie firmly pushes the mare into the corner, she’s unable to move, let alone get out of her own mess.
“Huuhuuuhuuu… buuhuuhuu… Shitfowbwains nu smeww pwetty. Smeww wike poopies weawwy bad. Nu wike, pwease, fwuffie nu wike!”
“Bad poopies! You made bad poopies!” He retorts immediately to the bloated mare.
Charlie isn’t trying to be mean, but honestly what else could he do in a situation like this? He’s still drunk and frankly this shithead needed to be taught a lesson. Charlie is the boss. He is their owner now, and he needs to get this communicated to them as the last thing he feels like dealing with are disobedient fluffies. But now that he’s thinking of disobedience, where the hell is Rimjob?
Charlie shoots up, leaving the mare in her smeared mess to stew. His head darts left and right, where the fuck is he? He couldn’t have gotten lost that easily right? Suddenly he hears a noise, it’s Rimjob talking to a small red ball Charlie has in his living room. It seems he’s trying to take his frustrations out on it. Unaware Charlie is watching him, he starts talking.
“Wimjob hate mean daddeh, gib foweba sweepies tu! Wimjob nu wike bein’ ignowed, Wimjob am smawty fwend, stwongest smawty, bestes’ smawty!”
The ball smacks into his head as he rams it, it bounces back. He hits it again, but this time it rolls away from him. Proud of his accomplishment, as if he killed the ball, he sticks his head up, closes his eyes, and trots proudly.
The ball rolls towards Charlie’s foot. “There’s no fucking way I make this kick without falling on my ass right?” Charlie is debating on kicking the ball right back at Rimjob, hard. He doesn’t appreciate the disrespectful little shit, Rimjob doesn’t realize how bad they could’ve had it if he hadn’t taken them along.
“Fuck it.” He takes a deep breath, he’s ready.
Charlie cocks his left leg back, it’s been ages since he played soccer, but it comes back to him in that one instance, the form, the technique, he’s tapped into a former talent JUST to fuck with Rimjob. How impressive. His leg fires off like a rifle, striking the red ball harder than he thought. He looks on proudly as the ball rockets towards the unaware fluffy. He’s totally lost in his thoughts, imagining he’s taken over the house already, kicking his new owner out.
THHWAP!
The ball smacks into Rimjob’s side, hard. He didn’t expect this remotely, how the hell did it even happen? He can’t even look around as the pain causes him to squeal, the momentum from the ball transferring to him, he shoots forward onto the carpet, tumbling at least 4 times.
“Just like college. Perfect!” Charlie says under his breath as he moves towards the Alicorn, now twitching from the pain in his side, nothing serious, but it hurts like a real bitch. Just what he intended.
“Fuck me another mess to clean…” He looks on, Rimjob is definitely out from the pain, but of course he shit and pissed in a sizable circle around him. “What the fuck is wrong with these things?” Charlie grumbles as he motions for Rimjob’s scruff.
Thankfully, Rimjob can’t protest this one and so Charlie walks into the hall, where the mom is still crying to herself.
“Shitfowbwains make bad poopies in safe pwace, am wowstes’ fwuffie fo’ nyu daddeh… Buhuuuhuu… Huuuhuhuuu…”
“No fucking chance she’s calling herself that, is she?” Charlie is surprised, the most surprised he’s been since the first encounter with the two. He’s getting a good laugh out of this, a real good one. He didn’t even give her that as a name, she just took it as a name. Fluffies truly are not very intelligent animals, this much Charlie knew already, but this was just baffling.
“Hey, stop calling yourself that, it’s not your name, I haven’t even thought of one for you yet anyway. But enough crying, I need to get you to your new room, because I’m fucking tired.”
The mare sniffles, and then looks up at Charlie, before getting a smile on her face again. “It’s good to have a home” she thinks. At last, despite the hunger, she and Rimjob can rest.
Despite saying it was a room, Charlie has the full intention of taking them to the basement for their new “nest”. He doesn’t need fluffy shit in his guest room, it’d be far easier to clean in his basement, and far easier to mask the constant singing that no doubt is soon to fill the house.
Charlie walks down to his basement before tossing the still unconscious Rimjob on a bean bag. He quickly runs up the steps and wraps the mare in a couple of towels, before descending and setting her down in the cardboard box. Considerably bigger than her original, and it also has a couple of old pillows with oversized cases on them. To her, this is a castle, and she’s the queen now.
In reality the basement is averagely sized with a mainly cold temperature, the floor is hard cement that’s freezing to the touch. A few shelves of odds and ends line the wall as well as a small ground level window to the outside. A single lightbulb is the only source of light in the room, turned on by a switch all the way at the top of the stairs.
“I got a small heater and a litter box, I’ll be down with them, and then I’ll get you two kibble, it’s all I have right now.”
Charlie finds the empty litter box hidden in the closet before going to the kitchen to search for the kibble. He stares at the bag “Expired. Great. Ah well, beggars can’t be choosers.” He grabs two small bowls he won’t miss and descends down the stairs. The mom is anxiously awaiting her food.
Rimjob is still out cold, breathing fine, but out cold. Just what he wanted, this way Rimjob couldn’t protest the lack of spaghetti. Charlie sets the bowls down, before filling them each with the kibble and setting it down. It’s a small bag, but holds enough for a few more feedings. He then grabs the small heater sitting next to the tall silvery shelf, and plugs it in. He presses down on the max heat button, the heater hums loudly as its heating element starts. It’s a cold basement, and despite having a couple of other rooms free, they didn’t need to know that, and Charlie certainly didn’t need to hear their bullshit tonight.
He tells the mare goodnight before setting a slab of plywood at the start of the stairs. They’re not gonna get out of the basement at all on Charlie’s watch. At least in the basement they’re not able to roam freely through his house.
It’s late, and Charlie needs to sleep, but he also needs some food. He walks up to the fridge, it’s electronic hum fills the room that was devoid of sound just seconds ago. Fishing around he finds some freshly bought ham and decides to make a sandwich before getting to bed.
Just as quickly as it was assembled, it is devoured, and Charlie slogs towards his room. It’s 12 am. He’s feeling the bad side of the alcohol kick in now, and figures it’s time for bed. He brushes his teeth and changes out of his now shit covered clothing from moving both of the fluffies, that he is now regretfully the “proud” owner of.
He looks in the mirror. “Did I really just take in two homeless fluffies? Straight from an alleyway? Sounds like one of those crazy stories the guys are always telling after we slam a few beers.” Charlie looks at himself, he really can’t believe he did it either, and yet there they are, sound asleep in his basement. The next day is certainly going to be a most difficult one, he isn’t anticipating the hangover, OR the reality of his new living situation. He brushes aside the thought before crawling into the bed and falling asleep.
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I’ve been having fun writing this and honestly I can’t necessarily say it’s going to be straight up abuse or straight up hugbox… Yet. Regardless I hope you enjoyed this entry.
(I’m thinking of just calling this series something else as it clearly is going beyond Thursday night. I’d love some suggestions if you guys have any!)
