Everything Goes Well And Nothing Bad Happens (BRDude)

You’re walking home on your way from work, and you notice the foal-in-a-can machine has just been restocked.
Fluffies are social creatures, and your daughter had just gotten you one for Christmas.
(You bet it was your whore of an ex-wive’s idea, she knows you hate fluffies).

You look at the choices, and thankfully, the noise of the cars drowns the incessant chirping.

You decide to take five. A brown female one to help with the poop cleaning, and two more brown ones, just in case.
The two other females are to keep your “gift” from being needy and annoying, one is a white pegasus with a pink mane who you decided to call Salty, the other is an earthy with orange fur and a purple mane who you named Skater.

20 minutes later:

You get closer to the pink dresser in the now guestroom, it’s top is walled by some of the modular, fluffy-safe plastic walls (no way in hell you’re wasting a whole room with fluffies), you open the door to the area inside, it’s floor is more plastic walls covered by the soft easy to wash mat that comes in the kit.

You put the two cans inside.

“Daddeh, why babbies in sowwy gwass?” Fruit, the yellow unicorn with a red mane asks you.

“It’s not a “sowwy gwass”, and it’s because they don’t have mothers, once they drink all their milk they can get out an play with you.”

“Yay! Fwuit wubs nyu fwiends!”

Your new friends are so lame! All they do is drink milkies and chirp!
“Bowing dummy chirpies! Nuh wan gibe huggies!” You say while poking the glass with the wingy friend inside.
You look around, and you see something intriguing.

“Fwuit gunna 'spwow!”

You walk to the giant doors, they are so big they go up to daddy’s neck! But you noticed he left it almost open, a gap big enough you can squeeze through, leading you… down! You fall in soft ground, but it’s all walls around you.

“Wet Fwuit out oh sowwy box! peep peep peep peep daddeh sabe babbeh! Am gud babbeh, onwy wan spwowe!”

Many forevers later…

YOU’RE SAVED! It’s daddeh! But you get scared when you see the look on his face.

“What did I tell you about getting out of your nest?”

peep” A single peep is all you manage to say before he hits your backside with a sorry stick, it’s the first time you ever experienced such pain!

You get back from the shower to see the foal really did try getting out.
You left the gate open on purpose, leaving a box with an old towel inside it, in the open upper drawer.
So if (let’s be honest, when) the foal tried to step out, it would get trapped, but not hurt.

You grab the stick by the side of the walls before opening the box and taking out the foal. “What did I tell you about getting out of your nest?” You ask before you start to hit the thing with soft movements of your wrist.

peep peep peep Nuh mowe huwties! Am onwy wittwe babbeh! Fwuit jus wook fow daddeh 'cause nuh can have huggies with chirpy fwiends! Am meanie gwassies fawt!” The thing says after some light touches of the stick.

You hear it’s words, it disobeyed you at the first chance you gave, right after you just gifted it friends, because it was bored. At least it’s a smart enough specimen to put the blame on the glass and not the things inside it.

“You misbehave, remember what I said about misbehaving?”

“Nuh daddeh pwease, nuh wan icky nummies!”

“If you didn’t want it, why did you go through the door without permission?”
You put the fluffy inside it’s litterbox and take away the foal sized food bowl and set it aside, you take another from the upper drawer, it contrasts with the first one by being brown with sad fluffy faces and storm clouds, instead of being bright yellow with smiling fluffies and pink cotton candy clouds.

Away from the foal’s view, you switch the kibble from one bowl to the other.

huuuuuu poopie kibbwe. Nuh wike huuu nuh taste pwetty huu” You tried not to eat, so the next bright time daddy would HAVE to give you good kibble, or at least normal kibble, so you don’t get the worse tummy aches and forever sleepies.

But you simply can’t stomach your empty stomach, you’re now eating the sad tasting kibble from the sad poopie bowl, it’s the worse thing you ever tasted since your brother made bad poopies in your face on the fluff pile.

1 week later

Your hug your little friends again, they were all small talking babies when they got out of the cans, you showed them how to stack blockies and play with the ball, you teach them to be good babies, making good poopies on the litterbox and getting lickie cleanies from the cleaning friend before going back to play.

But most of all you love the hugs and talking, it was so lonely before, now you have friends and daddy gave you a bigger safe room with a bigger 'sploring place!

Right now the two babies are there, walking inside the brown tubes and boxies, you’re almost getting too big to fit anymore, but you 'splored plenty in the small 'sploring place daddy gave you after the last time you ever had that nasty icky sad kibble.

Thinking of kibble, time to make space for more nummies!

You walk to the litterbox, it’s sandy floor feeling funny on your hooves. Taking care not to step on any poopies, you go to a nice pile near the cleaning friend, the poopie colored fluffy making sad noises as you make good poopies.

“Hewwo Wickie, Fwuit nee Wickie cwenies befow pway!” You say while showing your backside to her, she gets to it while crying, after she is done, you go hug her.

“Nuh cwy gud fwiend, Fwuit wuvs Wickie! Wickie am gud fwuffie an give cweanies to fwiends! Fwuit bwing sketties fow fwiend nes’ sketti day!”

“Fwuit pwomiss?”

“Pwomiss!” You say while hugging the toothless poopie fluffy that is tied to the wall.

It’s saturday at last! Your little princess should be just waking up, eager to spend the weekend with daddy.

But before you go…

The fluffies are still asleep, good.
You get close to the litterbox, and reach with both hands at the cleaning tool. One hand shutting it’s snout close, the other grabbing it by the neck.

It wakes startled, squirming pathetically in your grasp.

“Thank you for your service, time for your vacation.” You say while leaving her in the cardboard box.
You can’t have your girl seeing that.

Daddy leaves you in the sorry box again, this time you don’t mind it, at least you have kibble and clean water. And you don’t have to eat any poopies except your own.

You look around, there is only the kibble and water bowls with you, the light from above is much harsher than the one in the saferoom, but the sorrybox is much longer than what you can walk when in the litterbox.

Time passes, you just lay there, the smell of sketties fills the air, Fruit promised she would give you some, so you wait patiently…

It is Skettiday, it is such an important and happy holiday that even daddy is smiling.
The little mommy came again for skettiday, and she played with you again.
You four go to walk in grass outside, you get to run and play ball like you can’t inside the saferoom.
And when you’re already all tired, daddy gives you tasty sketties before leaving with little mommy somewhere, you and your two friends go to nap with a belly full of sketti.

After daddy and little mommy come back, you wake and eat more sketties before playing until you fall asleep again.

And it repeats the next day: play, sketti and sleep, sketti, play and sleep.

But before you can sleep for the second time, daddy takes the little mommy away, and once he get’s back, he comes back carrying Wickie!

“Cweanies fwiend! Fwuit miss you wots! Nee Wickie cweanies fow feew pwetty!”

“Buh we’ sketties?” The poopie friend begs. Outrageous, you even saved her some the first day, but she wasn’t there to give cleanies, so you just ate everything. NOW she wants sketti? Without even cleaning you first?

“WICKIE CWEANIES NOW!” You scream as you deliver the sorriest of hooves to her selfish snout.

You feel her tongue on you poopie place and special place, a wet slug scraping the flakes of dried poop from your backside.

“Can Wickie has sketti now?” She asks when finished.

“Wickie can num bestest skettie poopies!” You declare as you make more good poopies as near to her as possible. “Wickie cweanies 'gain!” You demand, and she complies.

That will teach you to try and be kind to a poopie-fluffy! They are poopies, and should be treated like poopies.

Things have been going well, the three fluffies behaved nicely around your little princess, and did not cause any trouble yet.
The brown one performed well, but that did leave you with two spare shit eaters.

Hugging in the corner of their box, near the food and water, eyes closed and shaking in fear. They open their eyes as you grab both of them.

“Daddy give upsies?”
"Daddy take fwuffies out of sowwy box?

A responsible citizen would just kill them and dispose of the bodies, but… you just take the two, two week old foals, and you leave them outside your fence.

Why? Why not have a little fun killing them, seeing as you hate the chimeric abominations?
Well, if there is not any of them left on the streets, how will you get the satisfaction of killing a family of them in brutal ways?

So you leave them alive, and hope that they survive, that they find a mate to reproduce. So that you or someone else can have some fun killing their foals in front of them.




Mhm, this is exactly what poopy fluffies deserve. This felt like a breath of fresh air, to see them suffer as so.


Nice handling of the litterpal concept. After all, that is what the poopie “inferiority” instinct is there for!

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