A cyan earthie with an off-white mane awakes with a small yawn and looks around his safe room; this safe room has been his whole world for as long as he can remember, which is at least three forevers. He stumbles to his hooves and steps over to the litterbox, as it was time to make good-poopies. With sleepy-goo in his eyesies, he crouches down and makes a lot of watery poopies and lets out a long stream of pee-pees. Slowly as he drains himself, he realises something is wrong, his hooves are getting wet and the poopies smell so much worse than normal. Clearing his eyes of the sleepy-goo he finally takes a better look at his surroundings, and realises that while he is in a saferoom, it is not his saferoom âŚand he just made bad-poopies.
The stallion looks around the room and takes note of small changes: while his saferoom has blue walls, the walls in this room are white; there are no blockies to stack, no stuffy friends, and no FluffTV. In fact the only things in the room are himself, a red ball a bit smaller than him, a litterbox in the opposite corner, and the pile of bad-poopies he had just made. Feeling the bump-bumps in his chest start to speed up, and feeling his breathies getting stuck in his throat, the stallion begins to call out. âDaddeh, whewe awe 'ou Daddeh? Cwoud has scawies⌠Daddeh! Can Daddeh heaw Cwoud?â Waiting for a few moments in silence, Cloud perks his hear-places up, thinking he might hear something.
Slowly the saferoom door opens and in steps a strange human. They have a black mane, and see-helpers like his daddy has. Theyâre also wearing a long white not-fluff over their other not-fluffs. The human has a smile on their face as they walk in, but it is quickly replaced with a scary face. Following their gaze Cloud sees they are looking at his bad-poopies. âNow⌠Forty-Four this is not a good first impression, this is your first day here and youâve already made bad-poopies,â the human says flatly, looking down at Cloud with a strange expression he canât quite understand.
âCwoudâs namsie id Cwoud! Namsie idnât fowty-fow, anâ - anâ Cwoud no means to make bad-poopies; dah meanie wittewbocks wun away fwom Cwoud! Pwomise!,â the small pastel colored stallion defiantly shouts at the strange human. The human pinches their smell-place with their not-hooves and lets out a sharp breath before looking back down at Cloud.
âOkay, fair enough⌠youâre in a new place so this one time we can overlook the bad poopies,â says the human, putting heavy emphasis on the phrase one time. âNormally you would have to clean up your bad-poopies yourself, Forty-Four, but Iâll have someone come in and clean it up shortly.â
âSiwwy hoomin, fwuffies awenât fow cweaninâ up poopies! Fwuffies am fow huggies, anâ wuv⌠anâ - anâ⌠wotsa huggies! âOu awe ah stoopie hoomin if âou dunno dat-â a loud smack rings out as the human slams the wall with their not-hoof and stares at Cloud with scary see-places. Cloud lets out a scaredy fart, but no poopies come out since he already made poopies. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence he begins to speak again. âFwuffy awweady say namsie id Cwoud⌠siwwy hoomin. Wiww siwwy hoomin bwing Cwoud to hid Daddeh?â
The human quietly speaks something to themselves, but Cloud overhears, ââŚand that attitude is why youâre here you littleâŚ,â as the human lets out a sigh. The human crouches down almost to Cloudâs level while scrunching up their smell-place a bit. âYour âDaddehâ has to go visit his âMummahâ a long ways away so heâs letting us take care of you until he gets back.â
Cloud gasps in shock, feeling the bump-bumps in his chest get stronger, " Daddeh idnât hewe? Buâ whaâ wiww Cwoud do if Cwoud needs nummies ow wawa ow if Cwoud makes bad-poopies? Daddeh awways cweans dah bad poopies," the stallion looks panickedly back towards the still steaming pool of poopies, âCwoud doednât want ta smeww bad-poopies no mowe!â
The human sighs, âYou can think of us as your temporary Daddies and Mommies, weâll be taking care of you, but there will be rules while youâre here. Number one: you go by Forty-Four while youâre here, it helps your new Daddies remember which fluffy you are.â Cloud cocks his head to the side, confused at what the human was saying. The human continued on, âNumber two: all âpoopies and pee-peesâ have to go in the litterbox, if they donât go in the litterbox youâll have to clean them up yourselves.â At this Cloud gasps loudly and starts softly huu-huuing.
âNumber three: and most importantly, you have to eat all the food we give you. If you donât eat all the food⌠then a monster will get you!â This sends Cloud into hysterics, wailing and pounding on the soft floor with his marshmallow hooves while feeling tears start to make the fluff around his eyesies heavy.
âNo! Cwoud hate it hewe, Cwoud hatechu! âOu awenât Cwoudâs Daddeh, Daddehs gib wub anâ âou awe meanies anâ - anâ âou awe stoopie, âou a stoopie meanie!â, Cloud shrieks in-between choking gasps, trying to make breathies, while flailing his leggies wildly. âDaddeh! Daddeh sabe Cwoud! Not-Daddeh id scawie anâ Cwoud need weal Daddeh!â This continues for another minute or so until Cloud feels his leggies get so heavy he canât move them anymore. Cloud looks up and around the room for his Daddy, and is shocked to see he isnât there. The only human in the room is the black maned human making a meanie face at him.
This doesnât make sense, anytime Cloud makes yellies his daddy picks him up, and pets him, and gives him sketti treats. Instead of soft pets and a full tummy Cloud has sore hooves, aches in his leggies, and a meanie human looming over him. The stupid Not-Daddy slowly stands and walks to a small door on the wall and opens it up. Catching his heavy breathies and wiping the tears from his see-places, Cloud stands up to see if maybe there are treats behind the door.
With a short shriek and some loud huu-huuing, Cloud scrambles to try and hide behind the red rubber ball. Behind the door is something Cloud has never seen himself, but knows instinctively. The monster Not-Daddy has a sorry stick in his not-hooves and is walking slowly towards Cloud. Thankfully, Cloud is hidden perfectly behind the rubber ball and the monster Not-Daddy wonât be able to find him! Heâs such a smart flu-, his thoughts are cut off as Not-Daddy picks him up by the base of his tail, sending a shockwave of prickling pain through his tiny body.
âSince this is your first day here, Iâm going to be nice and only give you five sorry stickings for each transgression.â Cloud doesnât know what a âtransgressionâ is but he knows a good fluffy like him couldnât have done anything to deserve this. The Not-Daddy draws his arm back, swinging the evil sorry stick towards Cloud.
Jimmy lets out a heavy sigh as he picks up a very simple aluminum sorry stick from a rack of five sorry sticks. These range from the one in his hands, to the one with small bumps meant to add an extra sting to each strike, and even one that looks like something right out of mad max. Jimmy silently wishes he could be using that one as he turns and faces the small feces spattered âsaferoomâ.
In reality the saferoom is more of a broom closet converted into a crude facsimile of what it attempts to be. This room is set aside for fluffies that show signs of going âsmartyâ. Jimmy isnât positive the lump of cyan fluff pitifully trying to hide behind a rubber ball one third its size is going to turn out that way, but one bad apple can spoil the batch, so better safe than sorry.
Crouching down and gripping the fluffy by the base of the tail Jimmy lifts Forty-Four to eye level. The beyond pitiful look in the fluffyâs eyes and the fact it hadnât tried to punch him, or worse, shit on him⌠yet makes Jimmy decide to show some mercy. âSince this is your first day here, Iâm going to be nice and only give you five sorry stickings for each transgression,â and with that, Jimmy draws the sorry stick back and aims for the creatureâs relatively thin stomach fluff.
The sounds and smells of farting fills the room as Forty-Four attempts to shit itself in response to the first strike, but thankfully the contents of its guts are already sitting on the floor. Jimmy makes another exaggerated swing and lightly taps the fluffy on the stomach. Even with this baby-like show of force, two thin strips of red and swollen skin are visible under the pitiful creatureâs stomach fluff. It never ceases to amaze Jimmy just how fragile these things are.
Finishing out the next three soft strikes, he makes sure the fluffy is looking at him, before coldly but firmly stating, âYour name is not Cloud! Your name is Forty-Four!â Following up with five more swings to the rump, âGood fluffies do not demand things!â Looking the fluffy over Jimmy decides that the backs of his hind-legs are as good a place as any for the final strikes. Jimmy strikes four more times before a whiff of the slowly cooling feces on the floor hits his nose.
Deciding some measure of harsher punishment is warranted, he makes the final strike strong enough that it might make a small child wince. The fluffy however reacts as if salt has just been rubbed in his eyes, switching from loud huu-huu-ing to a sharp shrieking that stings Jimmyâs ears. He reaches out and shuts the fluffyâs mouth forcefully and roughly, muffling the offensive noise. With venom in his voice he speaks his final message, âYour new âDaddehs and Mummahsâ are not monsters, weâre all you have so you better get used to us,â mocking the fluffy by sing-songing the words âDaddehs and Mummahsâ and stretching out the phrase âall you haveâ as long as possible.
With that finished, Jimmy roughly dunks Forty-Four onto the cushioned ground, eliciting a pained shriek as it lands on the wounds on its rear, and once again crouches down to its level. âSomeone will be coming in to take care of your shi-⌠poopies,â barely catching himself before speaking an offending word. âOnce your poopies have been cleaned up youâll be fed, and after that itâs sleep time.â Standing up and ignoring the choked sobbing of the quivering mass on the floor, Jimmy quickly exits the room, breathing in the fresh air of the sterile environment outside the isolation room.
âHuu-huu⌠Cwoud has wowstest huwties, Daddeh nebah sowwy stick Cwoud. Meanie munstah Not-Daddeh id wowstest ebah. Wish poopie pwace stiww couwd go poopies so Cwoud couwd gib wowstest sowwy-poopies.â Cloud, or rather Forty-Four attempts to console himself by hugging his own tail and sobbing on the cushioned floor. Pulling his tail closer his face, attempting to mop up the heavy tears in his eyesie fluff, he feels the thin cut on the backs of his leggies stretch and tear slightly, sending glass like pain up his spine. Surely his Daddy will come save him from this awful place and give the monster Not-Daddy the worstest sorry hoofsies for sorry sticking Daddyâs only and bestest fluffy.
âMunstah Not-Daddeh wiww hab sowwies when Daddeh gets hewe!â Forty-Four defiantly announces to himself, when a brilliant idea, by fluffy standards at least, comes into his thinkie-place. âCwoud id gunna teww Daddeh dat munstah Not-Daddeh gabe Cwoud sowwy-poopies, anâ - anâ den Daddeh wiww gib Not-Daddeh wowstest sowwy-hoofsies. Hee-hee, fwuffy am smawtest fwuffy ebah.â Feeling slightly better now with his master plan formed, Forty-Four begins playing with the rubber ball in the corner farthest away from his poopies, wincing as he sits on the slightly bloody track marks left by the sorry stick on his poopie-place. He sits, and plays, and waits for when his daddy will show up and punish the monster for his bestest and smartest fluffy.
Jimmy turns around after closing the door and notes down on the chart posted on the wall to the right of the door: âSubject indeed shows signs of possible smarty-ism, additional observation required.â He also puts down 15 tally marks in the sorry stick section. Finally, he checks off a large box, above which reads: âCleared for experimentation.â
[Part 2]
