A week had passed since the tormenter’s last outing with the superglue. He had visited the alley every night, but had come away fluffy-less for one simple reason: his latest plan required a Smarty.
Well, not required, more that he simply had a particular craving to torture one of the self-entitled shitheads, and his latest punishment idea was especially brutal.
So, in basic terms, only a Smarty was deserving of it. Therefore, a Smarty was required.
Finally, after a full seven days, he had lucked out.
A small feral herd had made their way to the alley, but there was some debate. Apparently the Smarty leading them was, get this, not actually that smart after all! And the herd, surprisingly, had decided to kick him out. So the herd wandered away in one direction, while the Smarty wandered in the opposite one, head held high even as he sniffled and sobbed at losing his position of power.
As soon as he came within reach, the tormenter swept down like a visage of terror, wrapping the alcohol-soaked bandana around the Smarty’s face.
He carried the Smarty into his garage and placed it on the workbench, uncapping a fresh bottle of glue. This was going to be quite precise work, he needed to make sure he had as much glue available as possible.
He started by pushing the nozzle into the fluffy’s anus, squeezing the bottle hard to empty most of the glue into the creature’s colon. Then, still squeezing, he withdrew the bottle’s nozzle, letting it coat the exterior of the pony’s anus, mixing with the fluffy hair around it as it dripped and ran.
The superglue dried fast, quickly fusing the fluffy pony’s thick fuzz into a hard, plastic-like layer, completely covering the pony’s anus and sealing it shut for good. There was no way it was ever going to shit again.
Then, just to be safe, he did the same to it’s penis, sealing shut it’s dickhole just in case.
The Smarty briefly stirred from the invasive sensations, but the bandana was doing it’s work like usual, keeping the already-dim creature numbed enough that it didn’t actually ‘notice’ anything happening to it.
So with the glue in place, the tormenter untied the bandana and placed the Smarty on the ground, giving him
a moment for his head to clear.
“Hey there.” The tormenter said after a few minutes, grabbing the Smarty’s attention.
“Huh?! Who yoo?!” The Smarty yelled. “Whewe Smawty?! Dis nyu housie?”
Before the tormenter could even think of an answer, the Smarty continued.
“YUS! Nyu housie! Dis Smawty wand nao!”
The tormenter had been right all along. A Smarty was necessary for this idea.
He stood back and just watched as the Smarty waddled around the garage, proudly babbling to itself about it’s ‘victory’.
“Nyu housie big! Stoopid hooman, nu get in Smawty’s way! Wan mawe to enf, hooman. N’ wan sketties. HOOMAN! SMAWTY SAY WAN MAWE FOW ENFIES! Dummeh hooman wisten to Smawty!”
“Oh yeah? Or what?” The tormenter replied at last.
“Owe Smawty gib yoo sowwy poopies!” Smarty snorted, turning and raising his tail.
But nothing happened. The thick coating of superglue saw to that. The smarty grunted and huffed and snorted and stamped his little feet, but nothing happened.
“What’s wrong, shithead?” He asked the smarty, relishing it’s confusion and fear. “Can’t take a shit? Maybe you need some help.”
That did it.
“NU! SMAWTY NU NEE’ DUMMEH HOOMAN HEWP! SMAWTY SMAWTY! NU A DUMMEH BABBEH! CAN MAKE POOPIES ON OWN!”
“Then why aren’t you?” The tormenter asked. “So much for being a smarty. You must be a real dummy after all!”
“Nu dummeh! Bestest smawty! Pwove it!” It said, trying yet again to force out a shit, but to no avail. The superglue held tight, sealing it’s anus closed permanently. The pony finally stopped, gasping for breath from the exertion.
The man briefly wondered if a fluffy pony could give itself a hernia.
“Man.” He said. “You’re a terrible smarty. You really are just a big, fat, smelly dummy!”
“NU! NU FAT! NU SMEWWY! NU DUMMEH!” It squeaked, before screwing up it’s face again, desperate to take a shit… but with no luck at all.
The tormenter grabbed a bowl of kibble he’d made up earlier and placed it on the floor for the Smarty.
“Maybe you just need to eat something.” The tormenter advised. Smarty mumbled about how he wanted sketties instead, but ultimately ate the kibble, crunching through the rock-like chunks until the bowl was almost empty.
His guts let out a gurgle, and Smarty once again attempted to give sorry poopies, but it still didn’t work. Evidently piling more food on top of his previous meal wasn’t the solution after all!
“Hrmph! Dummeh hooman! Wiww deaw wif yoo watew! Nao Smawty wan sweepy!” Smarty huffed, looking around for a bed.
“Fine.” The tormenter said, at which point he walked out of the garage, flipped the lights off and slammed the door shut, leaving the smarty alone in pitch black darkness.
The tormenter didn’t return until the next morning, and the Smarty was in a sorry state.
The tormenter opened the door and peered into the garage. The Smarty had been unable to find a comfortable ‘bed’ and so had resulted in sleeping inside his food bowl (for some reason). Not only that but he was awake and crying when the tormenter arrived.
A sudden, long and loud gurgling groan from the Smarty’s guts explained why.
“Hey.” The tormenter said, walking in. The Smarty rolled over onto his side within the bowl, wincing in pain.
“Huh… huh… huh…” He panted wearily. “Hooman… hewp… Smawty… huh… huff… huh…”
“What? You want help?” The tormenter asked. “But you said you were a Smarty, and smarty fluffies don’t need any help from humans, right?”
Smarty paused. That was true… but then why was he having so much trouble making poopies?!
Smarty heaved himself up, his guts already swelling and bloating from the volume of un-shitted shit filling his innards. His hefty meal of kibble the night before certainly hadn’t helped at all.
“Smawty nee’… make poopies… nu can… dummeh…” He hissed as he wobbled to an upright position, his face screwed up in pain as his guts squelched and rumbled.
“Too bad, little guy.” The tormenter said. “I can’t help you. Nobody can. You’re a Smarty, remember? You’re the only one who can fix this.”
Smarty was completely at a loss.
It was true, nobody but he himself could help him, because he was a smarty and that meant nobody else, human or fluffy, was as smart as he was (oh what a curse it was to be so vastly intelligential!)
But he had no idea what was wrong! It was like his poopie and peepee places had just… stopped working! That had NEVER happened before! He couldn’t look around to see them, and his bloated guts were making it more and more painful just to exist, so obviously he was a little too distracted to focus on solving his problem…
The Smarty was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the tormenter open the garage door. He didn’t notice anything, in fact, until the tormenter put the tip of his boot against the Smarty’s swollen, turd-filled guts, and gave him a sharp push.
The rotund Smarty tipped over and lazily rolled out of the garage, his near-vestigial limbs flailing in the swollen bulk of his body as he tumbled away into the street.
The tormenter watched, smiling, before closing the garage door again.
He had considered keeping the Smarty, but decided against it. It was enough knowing he was still out there, somewhere, suffering… just as long as the tormenter wasn’t the one who had to clean up the inevitable mess that would be made at the end of it all.
Several days later…
The bloated Smarty dragged himself down the street, his rotund form gurgling and squelching with every painful movement. He couldn’t understand it! He’d needed to make poopies for a LONG time, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t! It’s like his dummy poopies just wouldn’t listen to him!
But of course, he’d still needed to eat! So he’d kept eating… but he still couldn’t make poopies. But he kept eating, and still couldn’t make poopies, but kept eating…
And now it was… well, now. And Smarty felt awful!
He had ballooned up like some kind of dummy pregnant mare, his stomach was so bloated and fat he could barely move! At best he could waddle with his tiny flailing legs just barely brushing against the ground, just enough that he could drag himself around on his distended, swollen guts, but every movement was absolute torture and pain.
Not only from the harsh concrete scraping against his belly, but also from the constant pressure his body placed on his swollen, stuffed intestines, but worst of all, from the constant squelching, squirming feeling inside his body. He NEEDED to make poopies, it felt like life or death… but he just couldn’t do it!
Smarty wanted to cry, but he wasn’t some stupid mare who cried over things like her mane or her no-nos getting touched! He was a big tough smarty!
…but it hurt SO BAD!
Smarty didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. He used to spend his days looking for food, then finding a place to sleep… now he just dragged himself wherever he could, inching along in constant agony, until he finally collapsed from exhaustion and overwhelming pain.
Once or twice he’d actually been mistaken for a pregnant mare, either by random dummy humans on the street, or other feral fluffies, but he’d quickly set them right with a harsh word or two! One human even wanted to take him home, but Smarty made them change that tune pretty quick after he called them smelly fatty dummies!
But… a tiny part of him wondered if it maybe would have helped him if he’d let them take him home…
But then he remembered that he was a smarty! And smarties didn’t need help from anyone, human or fluffy! Whatever Smarty’s problem with his poopies was, he could figure it out on his own!
He just… needed to… figure out where to start, that’s all.
Smarty stopped, exhausted. He had been ‘travelling’ for a total of ten minutes and had made maybe a foot of progress. He was exhausted already, but couldn’t stop moving yet. His tummy was still sore and squelchy from all the bloating and pain! He needed to do SOMETHING about it, and sitting around in the street like a dummy definitely wasn’t SOMETHING!
Smarty tried to move again, wiggling his tiny limbs, but failed to find any purchase. His bloated guts were too huge and were making it too hard for his stubby feet to find any purchase against the ground. He flailed again, wildly flapping his limbs, but only just barely managed to scrape one against the sidewalk, all while the constant pressure on his guts was getting worse and worse.
Finally, with a desperate flail, Smarty wiggled his legs fruitlessly… but succeeded in toppling himself over onto one side. He let out a brief ‘EEP!’ as he rolled over, off the sidewalk and into the road, feeling his insides sloshing around sickeningly with every revolution. He rolled and rolled and felt like he was going to be sick… until finally he stopped.
Smarty heaved a sigh, and was about to resume his agonised waddling, when he heard something. A fluffy could never have placed the sound, but every human knew it as the honking horn of a semi-truck.
And then the truck’s wheel hit the Smarty.
To call it an explosion would be to do it a disservice. It was more like the Smarty’s body immediately disintegrated as the truck ran it over, and it was instead replaced with a torrent of liquid shit which spurted in every direction it could. It coated the front, sides and underbelly of the truck, spattered across the road, and even reached the sidewalk on both sides. There wasn’t even a single drop of blood seen around the mess, just the atrocious volume of feces that the pathetic fluffy’s body had been miraculously containing.
The truck skidded, slipping against the massive pool of slick diarrhea, wheels screeching as the driver lost control, eleven years of trucking experience suddenly useless in the face of unpredictable happenstance.
The truck swerved, sliding across the slick, shit-covered road before, fortunately, coming to a halt up against a light-post. The driver ended up with a minor case of whiplash, his cargo was undamaged, even the light-post was only slightly dinged.
But ultimately, nothing of any importance was damaged.
(Hey all. So I’m basically done with this series, I had ONE more idea but it really wasn’t anything that special so I’m probably not going to bother writing it. It was basically just supergluing a male and female together while they were mating, gluing their junk together so they couldn’t separate afterwards. Anyway, if I get any more ideas in the future I might come back to this, but so far this is about all I have in the tank for the idea.)