“Humans are… complicated,” Smart-talking Napoleon started. “I’m going to tell you some things Daddy hasn’t, Hot Dog. There’s going to be scary things. But I want you to remember these two things.”
Hot Dog nodded, but was unsure about what she was hearing.
“Daddy is a good daddy.”
Hot Dog noted, somewhat reluctantly. She was trying to wrap her fluffy mind around everything Napoleon and Hippolyta had told her so far.
"And there’s nothing humans have done to fluffies that they haven’t already done to other humans.”
Hot Dog froze. “Hoo… hoomins meanie to odda hoomins?”
Hippolyta nodded. “Hoomins can du worstest t’ings to odda hoomins.”
“There are some things so horrible that they can only be done to other humans, honestly.”
The brown huggy-fluff sat, looking down at the white floor of the white vastness.
“How does that make you feel, Hot Dog?”
“Gib Howt Dog saddies. Heawt huwties.”
“Wai gib?” Hippolyta asked, rhetorically. She knew the answer.
“Cause… cause dat mean bad hoomin can gib daddeh huwties. Worstest huwties.”
“You’re right. And without daddy then you, Mint and Fern would have no daddy.”
“I know, Hot Dog, I know. And daddy wouldn’t deserve it, just like you didn’t deserve to lose your legs.”
Legs wrapped around Hot Dog, Hippolyta hugging her closely. It felt good, but it somehow made the pains in her heart feel worse. Humans weren’t supposed to be like fluffies. They were supposed to be bigger and stronger and full of love and could protect them. People weren’t supposed to get hurt and killed like fluffies.
“You don’t have to like it. You shouldn’t like it. You should hate it.”
The brown fluff hit the floor, hooves covering sobbing eyes. The expanse echoed with wailing and cursing of monsters, of bad people, of how unfair things were. She moaned and cried, cradled and rocked in Hippoylta’s embrace.
Many forevers later Hot Dog was spent. A firm, wet tongue went over her face, her snout, her eyes. Along the back of her mane. She looked up, seeing Hippolyta cleaning her, humming something that wasn’t the Mama song, but not far off.
“How are you, little one?”
“Whu Napowean cawwing wittwe?”
If the micro-fluff was smiling, she couldn’t tell. “I’m older than you, so you. Hippolyta and I have had three cold times each. You’ve not had one yet.”
“Yu weady tu give hoofsies,” Hippolyta nodded approvingly, letting Hot Dog go. “Good. No keep saddies and huwtie t’inking aww in fwuffy. Make sickies.”
Hot Dog settled down. She didn’t feel great, but at the same time she didn’t feel as bad as she did before.
“Its true. Yes, I think you’re definitely a smarty. Too proud to show how you’re really feeling. Napoleon pause, thinking. “More smarty friend, perhaps, but smarty none the less.”
“Naow wha fwuffies du?”
“Well, I suppose its time to show you more about what daddy does.”
The trio were suddenly surrounded by the FC/OS interface. It domed around them, Hippolyta looking then pointing. “Dat one.”
“You know that special fluffy clothing daddy puts on you? That makes it easier for you to move around?”
“Yesh. Howt Dog wike dat.”
“Did you know daddy made that for you?”
“Yes. He made that, and here’s a bed for mamas with no legs so they can have babies and see them. Daddy likes to make things better for fluffies.”
Hot Dog watched the screen, not quite understanding everything she saw. Spreadsheets for sales. Designs and pictures. Notes on how things worked. “How du?”
“The way he does it is he makes things for other humans, other creators to use. So when they make worlds for their fluffies, they can put those things into the world.”
One picture stood out. Garish pink, it looked sort of like a fluffy foal but not.
“Wha dat t’ing?”
“Ah. Uhm… It is…”
“Fow bad fwuffy. Mabbeh worstest fwuffy.” Hippolyta chimed in, rescuing Napoleon. “Fwuffy dat give worstest enfies tu babbeh.”
Hot Dog gasped. “Nu!”
“Yesh. Daddeh make dat cause daddeh hate dose bad fwuffies.”
“Its a trap for them. The bad fluffies try to do bad things to it instead of babies. Then humans or fluffies can give the worst fluffy forever sleepies.”
“Napowean, dea new t’ing.”
“Ooooh,” Napoleon said, reading. “And he’s about ready to make an improvement to it.”
“Means to make it better.” Napoleon’s eyes narrowed. “Ah! He’s bought an idea from another creator! Enfie Baby Syndrome.”
“Dat no soun’ good.”
“Its not, its really not. Its awful. But using that idea he’s making a human-magic version. No fluffies have to be hurt to make the pheromone… the smell… of EBS.”
Hippolyta looked at the email, imperceptibly smiling. “Daddeh gon’ use bad smeww to make ebewy-fwuffy hate worstest fwuffy.”
“Wai daddeh make dat t’ing?”
“Because,” Napoleon paused as he chose his words. “Daddy hates the worstest fluffies. The monster fluffies… The fluffies that hurt and hurt and hurt all the other fluffies.”
“An’ den he gib odda hoomins da i-de-ah so dey can hewp pwotec dea fwuffies.”
“And if enough of them do it, it might even become canon.”
Special thanks to @anon68543914 for letting me use the idea of Enfie Baby Syndrome. And yes, I’ll be doing a promo for the new Trap Foal payload soon.