this is a direct spin off from the events of Mandy MacFeely and the tower of babbling it’s not necessary to enjoy this story, but it helps add context and is there should you want more of Derek.
Derek was born broken and he knew it.
His father was once the owner of several maximum security private prisons and his grandfather was a breeder of quality livestock.
From that trail of familial success he enjoyed the finer things like fast cars, designer clothing, five star meals and expensive trips around the world on an almost monthly basis, but he did not love those things, not his cars, the trips, or even his own blood, he found it hard to truly love anything, in fact.
Derek had an odd desire. A craving that he had medicated, supressed and long forgotten about up until recently. Something as innocent and unimportant as a conversation with a new employee had sparked something old in Derek, something aggressive, something dirty.
When Derek was a little boy he was unruly to say the least, but his favourite antisocial activity was the lifting of skirts. Every now and again young Derek would sneak up upon an unsuspecting classmate, be she in the hallway, class, the cafeteria or playground and reveal her delicates to the world. Derek didn’t exactly know why he loved to do this but it felt good. He enjoyed the humiliation, the tears, the anger, the confusion and utter emotional defeat it caused the girls. The gloom and dourness of their new mood contrasted with the bright and colourful undergarments sent him to the heights of ecstasy.
Only years of hindsight after the fact and endless bouts of expensive psychotherapy would allow him understand that he had, in fact, developed a fetish. Well in truth it was two obsessions but they had interlinked to the point of being inseparable… Derek liked pain being done to pretty and colourful things. emotional of physical didn’t matter, he just needed something delicate, bright and cheerful, something that isn’t supposed to be interfered with or otherwise disturbed being made to go through misery.
He called his therapist about his flare up, his filthy old habit and was recommended a stress toy. And so Derek sat at his desk in Deacon’s farm, in his nice office, squeezing the little pinky-purple penguin anytime the urge took him. And for a time it worked. The first few weeks went by without a hitch until one morning his assistant walked in with his 8am cup of coffee.
She was a cute, rather tall and chipper 20 year old, enjoying her first real line of employment that didn’t involve flipping carcinogenic burgers for slack jawed drug aficionados.
Derek couldn’t help but notice the swish of her skirt as she moved about his office and listing off the tasks of the daily agenda. it was one of those nice tartan patterns, pleated and simply darling, and it reminded him of older times, of old hobbies. A terrible thought entered his mind for a mere fraction of a second before he shivered at the thought and excused the girl after thanking her for his brew.
Derek washed his face in one of the building’s bathrooms, splashing his face with handfuls of ice cold water before staring into the mirror. “you need to unfuck yourself, right now…” he ordered sternly into his own face before downing a fist full of his meds and chasing it down with his pocket flask. It was an old mantra his father used to say before the belt came at him, before the butler would take him to therapy or when he came home early from exhibiting another set of unwilling, technicoloured unmentionables to the school.
He elected to wander the eastern wing of the fluffy mill to distract himself. The fluffies all knew him by name and understood that respect was paramount to maintaining their privileged lifestyle. He entered one of the rows. pens full of mummahs with their litters, cooing and singing their obnoxious songs as their chubby and smiling foals danced.
Derek stood at the end of the pen and welcomed himself inside. “Hello my darlings, how is everyone this morning?” Derek asked.
“hewwo kind siw, wat am wuvery supwizes! Wat can cowffie du fow yew?” a brown alicorn mare said as she nursed her surprisingly bright and multi-hued litter. “oh, nothing special…” Derek said nervously, “I just need some company from the friendliest little things on earth” he said as he sat down next to the mare and rubbed her mane.
The chocolate coloured mummah coo’d in delight and lightly, rapidly and playfully kicked her little leg as Derek scratched that part under her mane that no fluffy can reach themselves. “teeheehehe, dat suuuu nice, tank yew suuu mush mista deddeh siw” she smiled happily.
Then Derek noticed it, in the corner of his vision. In the brown mare’s litter was a neon Pegasus foal, a beautiful shade of purple with a bright pastel pink mane that twinkled under the fluorescent lights of the mill, giggling and dancing happily with a big milk stained smile. Her utter joy and careless innocence was intoxicating for Derek as he watched her as an owl would to a mouse.
“that baby, what’s her name?” Derek asked the mother, with his eyes focused on the dancing ball of fluff.
“bebbeh, nu hab namsie” Coffee clarified, “bebbeh git numbah namsie watew, cus bebbeh am bown hewe, nu wike mummah, memba?” she added, her round little head cocked in confusion.
“oh, that’s right, silly me…” Derek said before rewarding the smart little miss with another round of pets.
He watched the little ball of joy dance until it tuckered itself out and curled up on his lap, peeping softly as she slept. “Bebbeh weawy wike yew, siw” Coffee noted with a warm smile. “I really like her too…” he said while twiddling his thumbs and shaking like a wet dog in the cold.
The mare looked him over and put her hoof on his knee. “wat am wong, siw? Hab hewties? Hab owwies? Nee Cowffie tu pwess da wed button an caww an nuwsie?” she said in genuine, sincere concern.
Derek lightly picked the tiny magenta foal up from his lap and held her close to his chest. He looked Coffee in the eye and fought back something he hadn’t felt in years, genuine, honest to goodness tears. He chuckled under his breath from the embarrassment as his cheeks were sodden with salt water, as liquid snot clung to his pencil thin moustache.
The fact that a fluffy, a goddamn fluffy and her foal had pierced his shell and touched his long frozen heart was a critical blow to the young businessman. His father would laugh in his face if he were present and he knew it.
“Siw, am yew otay? Yew wook wike yew hab hewties an happies at da saym timesies… Cowffie am scawed…” she said before resting her head next to her hoof on his knee.
“no… I’m not ok, Coffee. My thinking place is all broken and I’m scared it won’t ever be right” he said earnestly. “cowffie nu cawe, nice siw am awways wook afta Cowffie an bebbehs an udda fwuffies tu. Ifv dat mean am siw bwoken den maybeh dat nu am bad thingie?” she said so innocently.
Derek laid on the shavings of the pen’s floor with the mare and her brood for a good while, staring at lights above, silent as a corpse. The only noises to accompany him were the coos of Coffee and the sleeping peeps of her litter.
“say, Coffee?” Derek asked. “yus, Siw?” she replied. “may I have one of your babies?” he requested calmy. “hmmmm dat wud be suuuu wundawful, wich bebbeh?” she asked in her relaxed state. “the purple one” he replied immediately.
The mare nuzzled her magenta offspring awake and whispered into her ear. Not long after the little creature jumped up, fluttered her little wings with joy and hugged her new Daddeh with all her heart.
Derek stayed with Coffee until she was done saying goodbye to her child, then stood himself and left the pen. He was then passed by one of his staff, a tomboyish, rough and tumble looking young lady with many facial piercings.
“Shite boss, did ya trip in there now? Ya filthy” she noted as she brushed the shavings and multicoloured fluff strands from his six thousand dollar shirt. “you know, I think I’m ok… but can you do me a favour, Billie?” he asked. “sure boss, anything” she replied with equal parts confusion and gusto. “see to it that Coffee and her litter are blacklisted from the towers or the incinerator, unless of course we have a case of infanticide in the future” he requested softly. “yeah, can do”. She replied as she pulled up Coffee’s file on her work tablet. “oh… And get her a big bowl of spaghetti, she’s been a very good fluffy” Derek added before walking off with his new foal in hand.
Derek was broken but maybe he didn’t have to be…
)
