So, starting a second series of stories. But Brutal Part 4 is next, so don’t worry. His time will come. For now, hurties.
Cover art by @Balls
“Why do you care so much? I’ve heard that a lot.
“Hi everyone and thanks for tuning in. On this episode of the FAFHAW podcast, I wanted to talk about this question. Maybe answer it a little.
“So… Why do I care so much? Let me lay out a scene for you. Imagine being, for lack of a better term, a loser. Every day is just about running out the clock. You hate your job, not because it’s hard, but just ‘cus it’s… tedious. Soul-crushingly empty. All your friends are arm-length, at best. They’ll talk to you, they’ll invite you out, but you know you’re never first choice. You know their attention is somewhere else. And your family doesn’t talk to you anymore. They don’t hate you, they just… have lives, y’know? It’s a sterile loneliness and you have nothing to look forward to. Nothing to get out of bed for.
“Then, one day, you open your door and see it. A little creature. Sitting there. It looks up at you and there’s nothing but hope in its wide-open eyes. It doesn’t ask for much. Just wants a safe place. For its body, for its heart. It knows - and it has seen the result - of the danger you could pose. You could break this thing in half without any effort. You could skin it with your bare hands. And it knows that. But it still comes up and asks for hugs and love.
“Imagine something so vulnerable… just opening itself up to death. All for safety. All to be loved. And if you give it that and you treat it fair, it will give nothing but devotion. You set down a bowl of kibble, it’ll smile. You give it a ball and it’ll cheer. Give it ten minutes of your time to play and it’ll clasp your leg, thanking you and telling you that it loves you more than anything in the world.
“You give a little and it returns it ten-fold in almost religious loyalty. They will see you as a god to worship. A great power to pour all its love onto. Then, you realize… there’s purpose in that. Finally, something to wake up for. Something that needs you. Without you, it has nothing left. And you’ve seen the stories. An elderly woman who never wakes up - and is found with a quivering, weeping, suicidally-depressed lump beside her on the bed. A missing child who never comes home to find their companion waiting… starving… hoping by their bedroom door.
“Something so dependent. It needs you. Then you feed it, you water it, you play with it, you love it. Until, eventually, you need it, too. Because it fills that hollow. Makes you get out of bed. Makes you work. Makes you go out. You live your life for this creature. But it’s not a creature anymore. It’s a pet. A companion. A friend. Your family.
“Then it all gets taken away by some… vile little need. By a parasite. A disgusting, rotten piece of waste that did nothing but take and take and take and killed her. He killed her. THAT LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT KILLED HER!”
Justin sat at his desk. Panting. The timeline of his recording software drifted ever rightward, his breath spiking patterned waves. He stared at the screen. Then reached forward and stopped the recording. Another click and the audio was gone. Deleted. He shut the laptop and pushed away from the desk, letting his chair glide a few feet back as he leaned his head up. His hands went to his face, clasping tight as he fought back the emotion pushing to his eyes. Heartbeats thumped in his ears and he wondered if he should take another pill. But, if he did, the heartbeat would calm. Then he’d hear it again. Those whimpers. That sound which always followed one of his outbursts.
“Huuhuuhuuuuuu,” it said. Drifting from the bathroom. He could barely hear it through his beating heart. He wished he’d never hear it again. But he had to hear it. He needed to hear it.
Justin took steady breaths, letting his heartbeat slow naturally until the pain left his chest. But it would never leave in its entirety. An ache was better than the sharp vice, however. And now he could hear it clearly, the soft sobbing drifting from the bathroom. He picked up his phone then beelined to the bathroom.
Cold. All he could feel was cold. And it was wrong. Something inside him - deep, deep inside - told him it was wrong. This isn’t how life should be. There should be warmth, inside and out. His body should be wrapped in a kind embrace and his heart filled with a mutual, infinite love. But he had neither. For so many forevers, it was nothing but fear and pain and the cold. So much cold. Screaming did nothing. Escape was impossible. All he could do was silently sob, between suckles of his hoof.
Justin appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, which elicited an immediate silence. He sat his phone on the small counter in which the sink was set, then went to his knees beside the bathtub. He folded his arms on the cream-colored plastic and stared down into the half-inch of water. Sitting in the center of the tub was a cloudy-blue fluffy, barely past a month old. Still just a… what did she call him? ‘Tawkie-babbeh’? Yeah, that. The talkie-baby sat in the water, shivering and suckling a hoof.
This is how the baby spent most of the days that week. Bert had recommended it. Fucking genius, that’s what Bert is.
“What’s up, Cloud?” Justin said, completely monotone in his words.
“Cwoud nu wike nyu safewoom…” Cloud replied, before stuffing his hoof back in his mouth. The scant moment without it made his discomfort a ten-fold experience.
“But I made it so nice for you.” Justin still held monotone, reaching a hand down to flick some water up on Cloud, “See? Lots of nice water so you’ll always be clean.” Cloud weakly scrambled away, giving a raspy ‘eeeeeee’ as he did. “Don’t you like being clean?” But as fast as the fluffy tried to move, it gave no challenge to Justin as he planted his palm flat on Cloud’s back and pushed down harshly.
“Pwease, daddeh, Cwoud nu wan’-” Cloud began to protest, before Justin’s thumb shoved the horse-rat’s face into the water. Bubbles rapidly splashed up on each side of the semi-submerged head.
“You need to be clean, Cloud,” Justin said, a smile slowly spreading on his face. As the limbs thrashed against the thin layer of water, his smile simply grew. “Remember? Good fluffies are always clean. Remember that?” There was a gargled, panicked response from Cloud. “What? I can’t hear you.” Another panicked, watery scream. “I can’t hear you!” Justin gripped the fluffy tight in his hand and pulled him up to face him.
“CWOUD NEE’ BE CWEANIES! CWEAN FWUFFIES AM GOOD FWUFFIES!” Cloud screamed, before bursting into racking cries. Every orifice of his head was burning from the salt in the water which invaded his nasal, ear, and sinus cavities. The water which he gulped down sat heavy in his stomach - which, itself, had been barely full of very mushy and foul-tasting kibble - and the sobs began to bring an intermittent clench in his throat, which was followed by a nauseating lurch from his belly.
“That’s right,” Justin said, before bringing his thumb up and using it to lock Cloud’s mouth shut between his thumb and index finger. With his other hand, Justin picked up his phone and hit the big red record button on his phone screen, facing the camera down into the tub. “Alright, I think it’s time for a FAFHAW Fluffy Lesson. Today, we’ll be looking at the effectiveness of water as a teaching tool for your fluffy.
“Today, we have our resident volunteer; Cloud. For the past week, Cloud has been learning the importance of baths. Which is one of the worst parts of fluffy ownership. How many times has your fluffy made a mess - be it rolling in the mud or getting that infamous fluffy shit spread all over their pretty fluff - and then they just refuse a nice, warm bath?
“From what I’ve heard, it’s quite common. That’s because fluffies are so used to their mothers licking them clean. But do you want to lick your fluffy? Hell no. That’s sick. But, how can we get them in the bath without all the kicking, screaming, and hearing that old chestnut ‘wawa bad for fluffies’?
“Well, there’s two things I’ve found that always work. Two things which ensure a fluffy learns. Exposure and repetition."
Justin had been toying with the format of his podcast since he began it two weeks ago (give-or-take). ‘FAFHAW Fluffy Lessons’ was one of the things he decided to try out. A little video content to break up the audio segments. The first episode was entirely audio. Very rough audio… But he hoped this one - the second episode - would be cleaner. More structured, especially. Because that’s what he needed. Structure. Form. Something steady that he… that he could… FUCK! HE COULDN’T CONCENTRATE WHILE THIS LITTLE SHIT WAS WHINING! HE WAS ALWAYS WHINING!
He lifted his thumb off the fluffy foal’s muzzle. Immediately it opened and a shotglass of acidic, beige-colored vomit fell free into the bath-water, followed by a roll of sobs and peeps.
“Well…” Justin said, lifting Cloud to eye level. The smell was positively acrid. A mix of vomit, rotten bread, and a piss-covered wet dog. But he ignored it. Because it meant one thing. That smell and the fresh vomit splatter on Cloud’s muzzle meant… “Looks like you need another clean-up.”
Hurties. So many hurties. His leggies all had hurties, like something was squeezing tight around them. His tummy had the worstest burnie-hurties from the sickie-wawa. His heart had the biggest hurties of all, though, because he had seen the edge of forever-sleepies. As the sickie-wawa tried to escape, but couldn’t. It filled his mouth and his throat and even tried to get out through his sniffy-place. But daddeh’s hand kept it all in. He couldn’t make good breathies. All he could feel was hurties. So many hurties.
“D-daddeh, Cwoud wiww be cweanies, pwease nu gif huwt-” Cloud’s words were cut off as he was released, dropping a few feet into the tub with a sharp inhale. He plapped against the water like a turd in a kiddie-pool, but it was accompanied by a delightful - to Justin’s ear - little crunch. When Cloud then began to frantically peep and ‘eee’, it was certain. Another cracked rib. Third one that fortnight.
“Wowstest huwties!” Cloud cried out, as the camera zoomed in.
“Seems Cloud had a little accident and got aaaaaall dirty again. Looks like the perfect time to try out some exposure.” Justin spoke, ignoring the pleas of ‘hewp widdwe babbeh’ from within the tub. He reached down, the fluffy paying him no mind as it curled up, and began to scoop up the salty water. Cloud brought all his legs in, hugging his tail close to his hurties in a desperate bid to huggies the pain away. But, as water poured on him and delivered a fresh clout of cold, his muscles involuntarily clenched and drew more pain to the surface.
“Huwties! Babbeh nee’ huggies!” Cloud cried out, but was quickly turned to gargles and sputtering when the next pour of water flooded his face. Justin scooped up more water and poured it on Cloud, again and again and again. No warmth. No comfort. Just a stream of cold then pain then cold then pain. The cold didn’t even numb him, the grains of salt that lingered in his fluff would scrape and stimulate his skin, keeping every nerve awake and aware.
“You just keep scooping and pouring the water on your fluffy. Soon enough, they’ll understand that water is nothing to fear when you’re around!” Justin cheerily spoke, his every word and action soundtracked by the whimpering, gurgling, sputtering, half-drowned begging of the critter in the puddle. “Soon enough, you’ll have a fluffy that’s clean.”
With that, Justin lifted the chirping mess from the water by the scruff. The feeling of skin pulled taught and muscles stretched to the limit sent the foal back a stage of development.
“Oh, and don’t forget to shake off any excess water or salt - which you should always add to the water to help keep your fluffy’s skin exfoliated and free of any germs. Plus, fewer chemicals than all those FluffMart soaps. Ain’t that a bonus!” As he spoke, Cloud was shaken like a crumb-clotted cloth. The fluffy’s little brain was spun and flung and bashed around inside his little skull. Spots floated in his vision, while his heart and head pounded. And a churn returned to his stomach.
“Nuuuu…” Cloud whimpered, front hooves going to his stomach, “Pwease tummeh, pwease nu make sickie-wawa ‘gain… nu wan’…”
“But!” Justin said, as he sat his phone down again, angling it against a tissue box to keep the foal in frame, “We all know how forgetful fluffies are. How constantly they need to be reminded of the same lessons over and over. So, let’s not be fluffies. Let’s remember the second half; Repitition.”
Justin took a firm hold of Cloud’s body again, putting him upside-down. In most fluffies, this would elicit cries of ‘nu wan upsie-down’ or some other down-syndrome-esque babble, but Cloud was too preoccupied with pleading for his stomach to stop grumbling. This negotiation was halted when his muzzle was forced open by the same thumb that had previously held it shut.
“But wait, I hear you cry. Isn’t that just the same thing we do anyway? Won’t the fluffy just forget?” Justin said, his voice starting to slip into infomercial mimicry, “Well, this isn’t your standard repetition. It’s two lessons for the price of one. This will teach your fluffy that baths are a good way to be clean and that getting dirty is not fun.” Immediately, Cloud felt an intruder in his mouth. The thumb was pushing in, quickly approaching the back of the foal’s throat. He choked and gagged and his eyes simply widened and watered and locked onto his daddeh.
As his eyes glittered out a silent ‘please stop’, his gut wrenched with an unearthly purl. The thumb retreated as another wave of vomit heaved out, shooting for both accuracy and distance. What was likely the entire contents of the fluffy’s stomach blasted out into the water below, a cloudy mess of green and white. Speckled with clusters of clumped salt and bubbling with pops of acid. Cloud’s retching and belching was intermittent, peppered with screeches as he reeled from the agony of lacerations and acid burns from his esophagus to his uvula.
“You see that? Hear him?” Justin said, bringing Cloud closer to the lens, “Look at this dirty, dirty, dirty, stupid, pathetic, WORTHLESS LITTLE SACK OF-” The screeches of the fluffy began to taper into a wheeze as Justin’s fingers clenched tighter with each word, eventually squeezing feculence from nearly every orifice. The camera’s view toppled as the phone fell to the floor, as Justin released both it and Cloud. The fluffy fell back into the bath, now simply sobbing and peeping as it tried to comprehend the pain of broken ribs and a prolapsed rectum, all heightened by the mildly-acidic and salty water.
Justin’s hands were shaking, words caught in his throat. He almost lost it again. This was… fuck, the footage might be usable. But he’d have to cut the end. Maybe try another take later? No, Cloud wouldn’t react the same. It wouldn’t be good enough. Why couldn’t he get it right? No, Justin already knew the answer. Because he kept losing his temper. Fuck! He was supposed to have it under control. He can’t get too angry. Last time, he… Justin remembered it so clearly. He remembered everything with crystal clarity these days. At least when it came to Cloud. The sickening little fuck.
He remembered how Cloud cried and begged and tried to fight back with his little pillowy hooves. It was just meant to be a cap. Two caps, max. But Justin made the mistake of looking into Cloud’s eyes. They were the same. They were just like hers. Next thing he knew, he was screaming. They were screaming. Justin belted out in rage, while Cloud was screeching that half-pig, half-baby caterwaul. The rubbing alcohol got everywhere. He was just meant to drink it, but instead Cloud was doused in it. The foal’s eyes, nose, mouth, ears, microdick, anus, everything. Soaked and burning.
If it wasn’t for Bert, the little shit would’ve been crippled. Blind and deaf and God knows what else. Thank fuck for Bert.
“I… I need my pills.” Justin finally stammered, turning to the door. Before he could open it, however, he heard the little tapping of hooves on the tub.
“Daddeh…” came a weak voice, “p-pwease… hewp babbeh…”
Justin grit his teeth. He could already picture him. The fat little cunt barely holding itself up against the tub wall. Begging eyes bloodshot and body trembling in pain… In fear. Like he was innocent. Like he wasn’t a horrid little cunt.
“Fuck you.” Justin growled.
“Bad wowdsie…” Cloud whimpered, “pwease nu make bad wowdsie… babbeh nee’ huggies… babbeh sowwy… nu mow’ huwties, pwease…” Every utterance was between heavy breaths, each only able to fill one lung as the other strained to inflate against the crushing weight of two inwardly-snapped ribs.
“Fuck. YOU!” Justin said, spinning on his heel to deliver a hard kick to the side of his bathtub, denting the plastic and forcing the foal off-balance. Cloud fell back, slipping and sliding across the murky water, streaking it with a fresh line of piss. “DON’T YOU EVER TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”
The fluffy, now on his stomach, covered his eyes with his hooves. Deep within, his mind repeated that fluffy mantra; ‘nu can see munsta, munsta nu see fwuffy’.
“TELL ME WHY I SHOULD FUCKING HELP YOU!” Justin yelled, “ANSWER ME, YOU LITTLE SHIT!”
“Babbeh sowwy! Babbeh sowwy, daddeh!” Cloud desperately begged, forcing his words out past the slow ooze of blood in his throat.
“What are you sorry for? Huh?” Justin knelt down beside the bath. He wanted to know. Did this… fucking monster know what he did? Was he really sorry?
“Babbeh sowwy…” Cloud sobbed, “Babbeh n-n-nu kno’ wha’ do wong, buh-buh pwomise nevew do ‘geeeee-heh-heh-heeeeen!” His words devolved into wracking sobs.
Justin’s eye began to twitch. The gap between each inhale became thinner and thinner. The beating of his heart filled his ears. Red crept into the edges of his vision. All he wanted right now - right fucking NOW - was to feel every crease of that bastard mushing between his fingers. He wanted to dig his fingers in deep, twisting and pulling so he could tear the muscle down into a pasty goop. Feel ligaments strain on the back of his thumb and tear like old rubberbands. Relish in the gush of warm blood and the wet squish of organs flattening against his palm. Hearing those squeals become silence. See the light leave those empty fucking eyes. Watch him suffer.
As the image of Cloud’s heart came into his mind’s eye, popping between his fingers, Justin practically flung himself out of the bathroom. He shut the door with a slam, muffling the wails of the foal.
He couldn’t let the thoughts win. He needed to get his pills. He needed to calm down. Bert told him. He needed to be calm. A little anger is fine, they’re fluffies, it’s natural, it’s okay. But rage… He can’t let the rage come up. Can’t lose control again. He can’t let Cloud die. Not now. Not yet. Not while he still felt this way.
He wouldn’t let this little shit get away with it. He was going to suffer every bit as much as he did. As she did. If it took 3 months. 3 years. Or 3 decades. He was going to make sure Cloud knew what he did.
“S…Su…” Justin stammered. But no, he couldn’t say her name. Just that little tone brought that mist to his eyes. He swallowed down the word, clenched his jaw, and shoved the tears back. He had things to do. So much more to do.
He needed to take his pills. Call Albert. Go see his sister. Get out of the apartment for a while.
But he had to come back. He had to come back. For her. For Sunny.
Why was daddy such a meanie? What had Cloud done? As he lay in the not-pretty wawa, he tried to think. It was difficult. Almost impossible. Every thought he could scrape up was interrupted by a series of chirps and peeps forcing its way out of him. Instinct pushing him to call out for his mummah. He was a good babbeh. He always was.
His mummah always told him he was a good babbeh. Always gave him huggies and milkies and love. But where was she? Why wouldn’t she come give him huggies? Couldn’t she hear him? Whenever he peeped, she always came running. Always lifted him in her hoofsies and gave him the bestest huggies. Gave him lickie-cleanies and sang the mummah song.
That’s all he wanted right now. His mummah. Her milkies. Their huggies. But no matter how many pained pleas pushed past his palette, it never came. Why? Did she not love him anymore? Did daddeh do something to her? Cloud’s peeping became louder and more frantic, a tightness gripping his heart that made breathing even harder. The idea of daddeh hurting his mummah. It would’ve been enough to make him do scaredy-poopies. But he couldn’t feel his poopie-place now. It just blended in with the rest of his pain.
Cloud wasn’t a bad babbeh. How could he be? He did nothing wrong. He was mummah’s bestest ‘splorin’ babbeh. Daddeh was being a meanie munsta. He used to just be a dummeh. But now he was a munsta.
Still peeping, Cloud stopped moving. Resigning himself to lay in the wawa and poopies and sickie-wawa and… it was all too much. His see-places had so many hurties. They were so heavy. He needed sleepies. So, like he had for forevers, he finally passed out in the wawa and went into a dreamless sleep.
When Cloud woke up, the hurties were dull. It felt like they were almost gone. But, he couldn’t quite feel his legs either. But he could see them, so he knew they were still there. He wanted to stand up, but just lifting his head was too much strain. Besides that, there was an awful spinning sensation. Like the floor was tilting back-and-forth. He wanted to whine, but the figure appearing in his vision made him push down any semblance of a protest.
“Hey, little guy,” Justin said, leaning down on the kitchen counter. He looked eye-to-eye with Cloud, resting his chin on his folded arms. “Feeling better?”
Cloud gingerly nodded.
“Yes, daddeh, fank ‘ou…” His voice was a whisper.
“Good.” Justin said, before sighing. He needed to make sure Cloud was fine. Even with Albert’s instructions over the phone, Justin wasn’t ken to repairing a fluffy. Seems he managed it fine enough, though. The prolapse was reinserted and the internal injuries will get better with some FriendMend. Cloud was lucky on a lot of counts; 1) he was blacked out, couldn’t feel a thing. 2) Albert knew his shit. 3) Justin had taken a double-dose of his pills.
Those pills were probably the only thing that kept Justin from smashing the fat little grub into a waste disposal. Well, that and the fact that Justin… didn’t have a waste disposal… Carter keeps saying they needed to get one, but they just couldn’t afford it right now. Maybe when he gets back. God, Justin missed him. Sarah - Justin’s sister - asked if Justin was alright, when they met up for coffee. She didn’t know about his fluffy. Neither did Carter. No one knew, except for Bert. And the FluffMart worker… But who’s gonna listen to some teenager with more metal in his face than Colossus?
Ultimately though, Justin was fine. Fine? Yeah. Fine.
As he looked down at Cloud, Justin chuckled warmly. He lifted a hand and the fluffy flinched, nuzzling his face under his hooves. The little critter wouldn’t stop shivering, even as Justin’s hand came down softly and began to pet him.
“There, there,” Justin whispered softly. A few minutes later, Cloud brought his head out from its poor hiding spot, still shivering across his whole body. “Are you hungry?”
Cloud nodded. He had the worst tummy-hurties.
“Well, I’ve got just the thing.” Justin stood up and went to the fridge, taking out a plate covered in tinfoil. He had made it after fixing up Cloud. He knew the fluffy would need cheering up. Though Cloud couldn’t tell what it was, simply crouching in on himself as Justin returned, Justin knew it would help. He placed the plate down on the towel Cloud was laid on, then peeled back the tinfoil.
“S… skettis?” Cloud said, “aww fo’ Cwoud?”
“All for you.” Justin said. A whole plate of spaghetti, sauced up and sprinkled with that classic white powder. Enough to feed an adult human. A full-on feast for a 1 month old foal.
Cloud rose steadily to his shaky legs, though his eyes lay bare his want to jump up and run as quick as his little lompers could.
“Skettis!” Cloud cheered, the rasp in his voice clearer now that he raised his volume. He stumbled over to the plate, saliva flowing from his hung-open maw. As he planted his hooves on the plate, the smell of the dish washed over him. The familiar scent of spaghetti mixed with… “Sketti smeww su pwetty! Smeww wike fwowews!”
“That’s right!” Justin cheered with the fluffy, giving him another pet, which Cloud did not flinch from this time. “Go ahead and dig in~”
Cloud did not hesitate and immediately shoved his face into the noodles. Each pasta string was like nirvana on his tastebuds, the taste breaking through the damage done by the vomit and water and cheap, waterlogged kibble. It was bliss, inch by inch by inch. He couldn’t wait to taste the floral-scented sauce. Or pretty parmesan ch-
“BLEH!” Cloud spat out his mouthful of spaghetti as soon as the sauce touched his tongue. “Yucky!” He complained, turning to look up at Justin. “Daddeh, sketti nu taste pwetty…”
“Oh?” Justin said, tilting his head. He cocked his brow innocently, as he gave an inquisitive hum. “Let me try some.” He fished out a noodle, right from the middle of the plate. Cloud whined, knowing that was one less sketti for him to eat, when daddeh fixed them. Justin put the spaghetti to his mouth and ate it. Well… pretended to.
He certainly wasn’t going to eat pasta drenched in shampoo and grated soap. No, he’d just pretend to eat it, while palming the noodle. Then he’d throw it in the sink next time Cloud looked away.
“Mmmm, tasty!” Justin said, an enthusiastic smile on his face.
“Buh…” Cloud started, brows turning up as his mouth dropped in a sad frown.
“Tastes fine to me, Cloud,” Justin’s fingers settled on the plate, tapping slowly against the porcelain as he hesitated. “Maybe I’ll just eat them, myself, if you don’t want them…”
“Nu! Cwoud wan’ sketties!” the fluffy protested as he threw himself fully on the plate, “Nu take sketties ‘way!”
“But didn’t you say you don’t like them? How about I just have these and I’ll get you some kibble, hm?”
“Nu mushy-kibbwe, pwease! Daddeh… Daddeh say sketties taste good…” Cloud said, a whine following, “Then sketties taste good.” He leaned his head in and hesitantly took a noodle in his mouth. Quickly, he chowed it down before the taste made him retch it back up. “Tastiest skettis.” Another noodle. “Bestest sketties.” Tears came to Cloud’s eyes, flowing down and matting his cheek-fluff. “Fank ‘ou so muchies, daddeh.” He began to shiver again as his stomach churned. “Cwoud haf bestest daddeh ebah!” He practically yelled the last phrase, before shoving his face deep into the spaghetti, getting as much of it down his gullet as he could. It was all he could think to calm his grumbling stomach.
“Thank you, Cloud.” Justin said, smiling as he pulled up a counter-stool. He sat down and watched as Cloud ate. “You’re such a good fluffy.” Once again, he petted the blue bean. “We’re going to have so much fun soon. So much fun.”
Then he brought out his phone and flicked on a video. A mare singing to her foals in the tune of ‘wheels on the bus’.
“Fwuffies awe fow huggies an’ wuv, huggies an’ wuv, huggies an’ wuv~
Fwuffies awe fow huggies an’ wuv, fwom mummahs and daddehs~”
