I liked Cupid but decided I wasn’t done kicking him yet. Here’s a prequel to Hot Spot
Cupid absolutely loved daycare. It was his favorite place in the world, except of course for when he was with his beloved mummah. Every day he got dropped off, he was full of wonder and excitement for what would happen that day. Nothing too amazing even happened there, but for an impaired pillow it was the cream of the corn. The stallion spent a lot of the time there on on a colorful blanket with many of the other pillowed fluffies. They were sad though, usually. Whenever he tried talking to them they couldn’t understand, and they spent a lot of time crying. He always wished he had weggies to give them huggies and make them feel better.
The daycare operators knew he wanted more interaction than the other pillows so they would let him interact with the foals, though under supervision. He was bigger than they were but they were often scared or downright mean considering his conditions and needed to be instructed to play nicely.
“Pwi!” He squealed with excitement at a little yellow mare with a ball. ‘Play!’. She hurriedly scooted it away.
“Gib sowwy-hoofies tu munstah!” Said a blue smarty, rearing up to smack his hooves down on Cupid’s tail. Flailing his stumps helplessly and giving terrified peeps, the older male would be saved by the intervention of a staff member who plucked the smarty up and carried him off to the sorry-corner.
“Hewwo big babbeh.” Came a familiar voice. It was his good friend, Angel! She was a little white filly with a blue mane and tail. She didn’t understand that he was a big boy, not a babbeh. It’s not like she said it out of meanness either, and he understood that. The foal gave him huggies and lots of coos, wubs. The pillow stuck his tongue out several times to show approval, blipping it out back and fourth rather than try to speak.
She was there to eat lunch with him, too. All of the other fluffies got to eat lots of skettis but he had to have special kibble. That didn’t stop Angel from pushing her bowl of sketti toward him when the staff weren’t looking. “Big babbeh hab skettis tu, tu haf tawkies!” She told him, sauce smeared all over her white fur. There was only a little bit left but you had to know just how much care a fluffy had to have in their heart to share, let alone precious pasta! Gobbling down the rest along with the sauce, he never stopped to think about why exactly he had to have special kibble in the first place. “Chyou! Chyyooouu!” He called out to the foal. ‘Love you!’, and he really did because she was his bestest friend.
The daycare staff didn’t find the fact that he had eaten someone else’s spaghetti to be very lovely at all. They knew it would give him diarrhea, or thought so at least. He could control his bowels perfectly fine. There was nothing wrong with that, in fact he’d been able to control his legs just fine too. The fact was when he was little, he’d drowned and lost something that let him speak normally. The veterinarian thought he was far more mentally impaired than he actually was and had suggested he be pillowed so he wouldn’t go around the house making a mess of everything.
“Cupid! You know you shouldn’t be eating food that isn’t yours! You are a BAD boy!” The meanie woman had said, and he began trembling a bit. This was his favorite place in the world of course, but sometimes…it wasn’t. In fact, at times it could be the worst. If he was a ‘BAD BOY’. Being a bad boy was the worstest thing you could do. “Kwi! Suy!” He tried to say. ‘Cupid Sorry!’. She didn’t understand though, and so he would get it.
His mummah didn’t give him the sorry-stick but that nicety didn’t carry over here. He was scooped up and brought over to the litterbox, deposited down into it. “Well, if you want to be a bad fluffy, that’s where you’ll get to be the rest of the day. You won’t be making a mess HERE. And you’ll get this.” She brought out the sorry-stick. It had been specially modified as to not leave any marks on him, but it sure hurt as if it did. It hurt worse than anything! Thwip-smack-CRACK! She laid into him with the tool, beating at his backside mercilessly. The poor fluffy flailed and screeched, waggling his stumps around in a pitiful display. His version of dancies. Danceh babbehs on teebee always made people feel better. They made everything OK. She didn’t like it though and seemed to lay into him harder. Out of fear, pain, and stress Cupid would lose control of his bowels in a stream of diarrhea, the force of it enough to hit his abuser’s shoes. “Disgusting! You are a NASTY thing!” She shrieked at him, quickly leaving to clean herself. At least the pain had stopped. Tears flowed down his eyes as he looked to Angel who had been watching this with a look of fear and now disgust in her eyes. “Poopie babbeh su su badsies!” She told him finally, marching away. Nobody wanted to be associated with something like that.
So he was left in the litterbox the rest of the day. Nobody talked to him, but they didn’t have a problem with shitting on him. The foals gave him sorry-hoofsies (they weren’t big enough to leave injuries but still hurt) and bit at him. They weren’t his friends anymore.
Before his mummah was set to arrive, he was finally scooped out of the litter-tray and brought over to a big sink. Plopped down in it, a bunch of the coldest wawa ever was brought out from the facet. The temperature hurt his already beaten body, but that wasn’t the biggest issue. It was the fact he’d almost drowned when he was little and was scared of it. Wawa was bad! It was horrible! This is why he had no weggies! It’s why he was like this right now! Squealing with fear, he dragged his stumpies around the sink basin uselessly and looked up to the same attendant who had beat him earlier. He wasn’t going to get any pity out of her but he tried to anyways. “Chyou! Chyou!” He tried to desperately plead with her. It didn’t stop the munstah lady from dunking his head down again and again, scrubbing at his fur roughly with a brush to wash the poopies away. Each time he went under he was terrified he’d be even worse off again.
Eventually it stopped though. He was all cleaned up and dried off. By the time his mummah had come to pick him up, he was still crying.
“Oh! Did my precious angel have a rough day?” Susan asked, getting Cupid in her arms and buckling him up in his carseat. He couldn’t tell his mummah what mean things had happened.
“Mmhmm. He got into someone else’s spaghetti and messed all over the floor. He was quite bad.” This made him cry even harder, because his mummah gave him a look that said she was very disappointed.
“Well, he’ll just have to go to bed without supper tonight.”