“Miwkies…”, a sewage-green foal muttered as it forced itself to stand. He’d just woken up from a bad dream about nummies that hurt, about weakness and darkness creeping into his vision. He always felt so tired after waking up from those nightmares, and so, so hungry. He crawled his way from his nest to the bottle and drank greedily, almost emptying it before the gnawing in his tummeh subsided.
Something felt…wrong about drinking milkies. He couldn’t quite figure out what, but it seemed as if he was somehow supposed to be eating something else. After all, his mummah had always said that when he grew up he’d eat big-fluffy nummies instead of drinking milkies, and that had been so many forevers ago, before she went forever-sleepies. He didn’t like to think about that.
Still, it wasn’t as if he had any idea how many forevers it took to become a big fluffy, so maybe he was just miscalculating time. After all, he didn’t have toothies yet, so clearly he wasn’t big enough for the big-fluffy nummies. So, it only made sense that he was still a babbeh and wasn’t ready to stop drinking milkies.
His stomach grumbled, and he realized he’d drank too much. He fought the urge to make sickie-wawa as he moved towards the litterbox as fast as he could without jostling his uncomfortable tummeh. Nu wan be bad babbeh! Nu wan maek mummah angwy! he thought. The urge to vomit grew worse, and he began to sprint, heedless of the discomfort.
“Nuuuuuuu!” he cried as he spewed the contents of his stomach into a reeking puddle, mere inches from the litterbox. “Babbeh am bad babbeh! Maek messies!”
As if hearing the words, his mummah came storming into the saferoom, face a mask of fury.
“You piece of shit. You drink so much you get sick and then make a mess on the floor? Guess it’s time for the sorry-stick.”
He didn’t see the look of sadistic glee that flitted across her face as he wailed. “Nuuuu! Nu wan sowwy-stick! Pwease, mummah! Wiww be gud babbeh!”
“A good babbeh wouldn’t make a mess, and wouldn’t try to worm his way out of punishment. Now, hold still while I get the sorry-stick.”
The babbeh stood, paralyzed with fear. The sorry-stick was the worst thing ever! It felt like he was dying by the time his mummah was done punishing him! She always covered his face in a blindfold, but he could swear that she was breaking bones when she hit him with it. But that couldn’t be the case, because when she took off the blind fold after putting him in his nesties afterward his leggies were always fine.
He always had nightmares after the sorry-stick.
“Alright, shitrat, you know the drill. Blindfold on.”
He shook, seriously considering fleeing. But the last time he’d tried that mummah had effortlessly caught up to him and given him even worst owwies than normal. So he just stood as still as his trembling would let him as he roughly wrapped the blindfold around his face. Nu wike. Nu wike nu wike nu wike!
Crack! The first strike his one of his back leggies, which gave way with a crunch as he fell onto the floor, rolling around and shrieking. It hurt so much! It felt as if the bones were shattering!
“Hold still.”
He froze, as much as he wanted to keep writhing. It would only be worse if he struggled, he knew that much. So he lay still as another leggie was struck, suppressed the urge to drag himself away as he felt it twist the wrong way around. His gums bled as his toothless mouth clenched tightly, trying not to shriek.
“That’s two hits. Eight more to go.”
Nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu! Babbeh wiww gu fowebah-sweepies!
Thud! A strike crashed into his ribs, and his breath fled from his lungs. As desperately as he tried, he couldn’t seem to breathe right! He gasped and gurgled, and his mummah sighed. She was angry at him for being so weak!
“Looks like no more sorry-stick, since you aren’t enough of a big fluffy to take it. Guess I’ll just give you pinches instead.”
No! Not pinches! They were even worse than the sorry-stick! He began to wiggle, unable to move his back legs but still struggling to escape. Maybe he could get away. Maybe he could make mummah angry enough that she’d just kill him instead of this torment.
“Trying to run? Really? I thought you’d learned by now. I guess I’ll pinch your front leggies since they’re being bad.”
He brought his legs close to his body, trying to keep her from getting a grip on them, but it was useless. She grabbed his left front leg, and pinched. It was unspeakable! It felt like she’d ripped it clean off! He tried to move it, but it felt…strange, as if the pinch had made it stop working somehow.
She moved through each of his legs, pinching relentlessly each time, until he couldn’t even roll around in pain anymore. His leggies wouldn’t listen! His frantic gurgling attempts at wailing didn’t earn him any mercy, however.
“Still four more. I think I’ll do tummeh-pinchies next.”
He stopped. Stopped struggling, stopped gurgling, just stopped. He couldn’t think! He couldn’t breathe! His eyes, which had been open, staring into the darkness of the blindfold, flickered shut. For a brief moment, he felt nothing but exhaustion and a curious sense of peace.
“Screeeeeeeee!” he somehow managed to wail as the tummeh-pinchies started. It felt like she was digging her nails into his intestines! Felt like she was ripping them out of his body! As her iron grip dragged him across the floor, he felt something warm and sticky on his back. It couldn’t be boo-boo juice, could it? His mummah wouldn’t hurt him that badly, would she?
Gradually, his racing heart slowed, then stopped, and he felt himself falling asleep. No! Not the nightmare again! Even this hell was better than that! But he couldn’t fight it as his consciousness was dragged under, every sensation replaced with cold. With a sudden piercing agony in the back of his head he was consumed by the freezing abyss.
…
Nothingness. No light, no sound, no heat, no cold. Nothing but emptiness and his thoughts. Nothing.
…
Fuck, I thought as I looked around the saferoom. This was going to be a pain in the ass to clean. Discarded legs, shredded loops of intestines, and more blood, piss, and shit than you’d think would fit in ten fluffies, let alone a single Foalever Fluff. Oh well, the little fucker deserved it, and after dealing with that imbecile Carson at work I deserved the stress relief.
As I scrubbed the remains of Leaf, I wondered if I should reward him for being such a good stress ball. Maybe I’d let him actually hear his name, instead of calling himself “babbeh” all the time. Then again, he had made a mess, and he ate some of my decorative shrubs on yesterday’s walk, so maybe he didn’t deserve a reward. Not unless he was good for a few months.
I considered pausing my cleaning to go ahead and transfer the probe, but decided against it. A little waiting wouldn’t hurt him, and it would be annoying explaining why he couldn’t go into the saferoom until I finished cleaning. Better to finish this first.
Once the mess was finally cleaned up I walked into the other room, the room where I kept Leaf when he wasn’t in use. Checking the trio of tanks, I was glad I got a dual-incubator model. Even I had limits, and leaving him stewing for three days was more than my conscious could bear.
Pulling the ready body out of the tank I rinsed off the sticky fluid it’d been immersed in and rinsed it off with cold water, before roughly drying it with a towel. Pulling the reusable probe out of my pocket, I dipped it in the sanitizing solution and gently felt along the back of the inert body’s skull, before finding the soft spot I needed and inserting the probe.
Carrying it to the saferoom, I gently set it on the bed and pulled up the app on my phone. Entering my activation code, I turned on the probe. The previously-inert body jerked awake, and Leaf shrieked and looked around in horror. “Nuuuuuuuuuuu!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Babbeh hab scawy sweepie-time-pictuhs 'gain!”
I picked him up and, carefully keeping my expression warm, held him tight against me, rocking him a bit.
“It’s okay. You’re okay now.”
“Mummah nu am angwy?”
“No, no I’m not. I’m sorry you had a nightmare. I’m sorry you had to have the sorry-stick. But it’s okay. Just be a good babbeh and everything will be okay.”
“Otay, mummah. Babbeh wubs 'ou.”
I barely suppressed a smirk. “I love you too, babbeh.”
Couldn’t be too harsh from him immediately after waking up. I didn’t want him to go into a wan-die loop. I’d spent years gaslighting him, and didn’t want all that effort to go to waste. Better to be nice to him for a while. At least until another backup finished growing, anyway.
Besides, if I wanted him to want to die, I’d just show him the little stunted brain floating in the nutrient solution tank.
Foalever Fluffs! Our combination of growth suppression, rapid cloning, and sense-linking technology allows you to have a foal that will never grow up, and will never age or die! Just remove the reusable probe from an expired body and insert into a newly grown one, or even another foal, to link your Foalever Fluff’s consciousness to the new body!
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Forced to be someone’s stress ball, without ever getting the sweet release of death. Its disgusting, and I love it!
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Now im picturing fluffies in the Altered Carbon setting. xD