You are Mark Lukens, and you recently came into the possession of a fluffy. You’d found the poor thing living on the street with a family that despised him, calling him a “poopie” fluffy, and forcing him to eat their feces. Even just thinking about the day you’d found him brings your blood to a boil.
You’d just finished up work that day, and were walking over to the sidewalk where you’d parked your car, when you heard faint crying emanating from somewhere. Looking down, you noticed a small, fuzzy brown shape sobbing near the entrance to an alley. It was a fluffy foal, covered in a shit and clearly not happy about it in the least. Who the hell would do such a thing?
You crouched down and spoke to the crying foal gently.
“Hey little guy, what happened to you?”
The tiny thing clearly hadn’t noticed you amidst his crying fit, and recoiled in fear once he saw you.
“Pwease nice mistah nu huwt babbeh… am onwy wittwe babbeh…”
“Hey, it’s OK. I promise I won’t hurt you. Who did this to you?”
The unfortunate foal lapsed back into sobbing, telling you the details of its misfortune in between sobs and sharp breaths.
“Huuuu hic mummah… mummah an’ bwuddah an’ sissy say babbeh am hic poopie, gib babbeh sowwy poopies hic an’ say babbeh nu am fow huggies and wub huuuuuuuu hic am onwy fow foweba sweepies…”
You were shocked. The most you’d ever heard about fluffies was that they were made to be ideal companions for children. How could something like that claim that one of its offspring was only for eating shit and dying? It was horrible.
You knew after hearing this, that you couldn’t just leave the foal there. He deserved a chance for an actual loving home, so you decided to adopt him right then and there.
“Weawwy? Nice mistah be nyu daddeh fow babbeh?” he asked cautiously.
“Of course I will. I promise.”, you replied without hesitation. You picked the tiny fluffy up using some paper napkins you had to avoid getting any of the mess it was covered in on your hands. You took him to your car, and placed him on the floor of the passenger side seat.
“Just wait here, OK Buddy?”
Instantly the brown foal’s face lit up with joy. “Babbeh name am Buddy? Wub nyu namesie!”, it said, wagging it’s tiny tail.
“Ehhh, sure why not”, you replied noncomitally, guess they latch on to names pretty easily. “I got something I need to take care of real quick, and then I’ll take you to your new home. Be a good fluffy and wait for me, OK?”
The foal seemed saddened that you would be leaving it alone, even if for just a moment, but didn’t kick up a fuss, simply nodding in response to your request.
You had unfinished business with the rest of his family.
As you walked deeper into the alley, it didn’t take long for you to find the makeshift nest that housed Buddy’s abusive family. In an overturned cardboard box you found a sleeping mare with two foals snuggling in the fur on her back. You roughly gave the box a shake around, and the residents immediately woke up suddenly, with the mare letting out a surprised “Eep!”.
Noticing you were the one that shook its box, the mother opened her mouth to speak.
“Wai nice mistah wake up fwuffies? Fwuffies am sweepy…”
This bitch. She and the rest of her “good-colored” foals were sleeping without a care, while Buddy had been shivering in a cold pile of shit outside.
Before you could answer her, the mare looked around and seemed to grow panicked.
“Whewe am brownie babbeh? Mummah no can find bwonie babbeh!”
Your blood ran cold. This two faced bitch was now pretending to care for the foal she mistreated. No doubt she thought that playing the part of a caring mother would endear herself to you. Too bad for her you’d already seen the truth.
“Don’t fucking bullshit me, you bitch.”, you growled, and the mare flinched in response.
“Pwease nu meanie wowds… babbehs am scawed…” she pleaded.
“I’ll speak however the fuck I please, you cunt. As for your “babbehs”, what right do you have to be worried about some bad words, when you left one of them in the fucking cold, covered in shit?”
The mare clearly pretended to be in shock, mouth agape.
“Bwownie babbeh am owside nestie? An’ am in poopies? Why!? Hu du dis tu babbeh?”
“Quit playing dumb, you were the one who shat on him, and left him outside the nest. He told me as much, so you can quit lying to me.”
You had to admit the mare was a good actor, as she made a face as if she couldn’t understand a word of what I had just said.
“Wha!? Mummah wub aww babbehs! Babbehs nu am fow poopies!”
You decided you’d had enough of this lying bitch trying to bullshit her way out of this, as you roughly yanked her out of the box, sending the two foals on her back to the ground in frightened peeps.
“Lets see how your other babies like it”, you said and squeezed her stomach, holding her over the other foals.
“WOWSTEST OWWIES!” she yelled as she evacuated her bowels all over her two frightened children.
Covered in the foul excrement, the two foals began crying loudly, complaining about “Nu smeww pwetty!” and asking “Why mummah gib babbehs sowwy poopies?”
Satisfied that some justice had been dealt to these shitrats, you went back to your car, where Buddy was overjoyed to see that you had indeed returned. You drove home, and showed Buddy some tender loving care, washing his fluff and giving him some grated apples to eat.
Over time Buddy showed himself to be a great pet and companion, never disobeying your rules and always being on his best behavior. You had to admit that you’d grown to really love the little guy, and found that he brightened up your home life quite a lot. You hoped that things would never change as you enjoyed life with your new pet.
You are Buddy, and you are the bestest, smarties fluffy ebah! You knew you were nothing like your mother, and siblings. They were just dummies, and you were tried of eating the dummy trashie nummies your mother brought back every day, and tired of playing dummie games with your brother and sister.
You knew you were better than them, you were smartie. But not smartie like all those dummehs you’d see on the streets sometimes, puffing their cheeks and demanding food from hoomins, only to earn a swift kick or worse in response.
You knew that hoomins were much bigger and smarter than even you, so you shouldn’t ever make them mad. Over time you even learned what kind of fluffies hoomins liked. You saw them be nice to brownie babbehs and monster babbehs - they were nice to fluffies that other fluffies were meanies to.
But your dummy mummah and siblings couldn’t even do that right! They kept giving you huggies and wub when all you wanted them to do was be meanies so a hoomin would find you and be nice to you. In the end you resorted to drastic measures, going over to a pile of shit another fluffy had left by the sidewalk and rolled around in it, making yourself look like a poopie babbeh.
Then all you had to do was pretend to make saddie water until a hoomin noticed you… and it worked!
A hoomin mister found you and you told him all about how your mummah and siblings had mistreated you, all of it a lie of course. He believed it, and took you home with him!
Now you had the bestest nestie, ate the bestest nummies and played with the bestest toysies! Your new daddeh would even take you outside sometimes to the park to play, and gave you sketties on skettie-days!
Yes, everything had all worked perfectly. Sometimes you wondered about what had happened to the rest of your family, but you didn’t care, you hoped they took forever sleepies or got turned into some dummy smarty’s enfie toysies.