The day passed slowly after Blake captured the herd. After a few low stakes games with Boris, Blake had spent most of his time watching and listening to the fluffies. Cameras lined the yard along with a few microphones. Blake could see and hear anywhere but coordinating it was a bit tricky. He wasn’t skilled at listening to multiple conversations no matter how inane or repetitive.
The first thing that happened after his game was that Bubbles had wanted to secure an escape route. He seemed to have realized that he was surrounded by a fence. After calling in the other toughies they began wandering aimlessly around the pen, not even bothering to stick to the fence.
Eventually Bubbles had rediscovered the door they’d entered through. He’d ordered the black toughie to kick it down. Of course, this amounted to nothing aside from some sore hooves.
Eventually they gave up on that plan and attempted to bite the door to pull it. Being a flat surface this amounted to little more than a taste test for the fluffies.
Nothing would have worked but not once did they try to wedge their hooves between the gaps to pull the flap. Blake had spent 3 extra painstaking hours preventing clever solutions and now he just felt kind of silly. Especially as the clock ticked on and Bubbles reverted to the same failed strategies for moving the door.
“Dummeh doow wet fwuffies weave!” He shouted that and similar commands for several minutes. Of course that hadn’t worked either.
Eventually the other fluffies got curious. There was a fairly even split of fluffies who were very upset, and those who really didn’t care. It was mostly Bubble’s inner circle that seemed upset. Most of the fluffies now having access to food and toys seemed happy with the arrangement.
There was plenty of grass to munch on for the moment. Blake could only estimate, but if he never fed them, they would be out of edible food in about a week, though that depended heavily on how fast the grass grew back. That would probably give him the most leverage. Especially if he only ever fed their leader. Although that number may have been reduced if they kept shitting over their food.
Some had realized this and designated a corner for the bathroom. In true fluffy fashion, Bubbles, one of the toughies and many of the pregnant mares just shat where they happened to be at the time.
5 days, maybe.
After his shouting match with the door Bubbles returned to Lily. As before, she was quiet and reserved. He went on and on, venting about the stupid door, stupid fence, stupid human, and stupid fluffy that lived with the stupid human. Lily mostly just nodded and occasionally hugged him. There was clearly some kind of imbalance here but the smarty seemed genuinely comforted by her affection. Blake could only watch it for so long before looking for something more interesting.
Nearby was the location designated for the orange toughie and its red special friend. This too could’ve yielded valuable information and Blake took the opportunity to spy. This unfortunately got repetitive very quickly.
“Speshaw fwen!” She would yell when he approached. He would nuzzle her. She would say something about how excited she was about the babies. He would offer reassure her in some way. He’d go out and play with/bully some other fluffies and the cycle would repeat itself.
From pictures that Blake had seen online the mare looked less than a week out from birth. Blake wondered if he should oversee the birth. He didn’t want to risk the ire of the smarty. It seemed potentially counterproductive. Something to mull over, he decided.
Another thing that caught Blake’s eye was the Puke green fluffy in the corner next to the shit pile. Perfectly normal for a herd to have a few but in the group he only saw one adult and two foals, both brown. One looked, very injured. It was barely dragging itself in an attempt to play with the other brown one.
One of its legs was clearly broken but something about how it carried itself was off. Blake grimaced at a sudden realization. He’d have to confirm later though.
Other fluffies of note were a pair of yellow fluffies, one blue maned, the other red. They’d spent most of the day playing and being very social with the rest of the herd. Blake wasn’t sure if they were mares or stallions. They were in the center of the yard and his microphones were all on the walls.
Another purple mare pegasus with a gray mane who was very pregnant, perhaps about as far as the toughie’s mate caught his eye. Many fluffies would walk up to her but none of them seemed to be her partner. Blake wondered what the story behind that was.
Blake felt something rub against his leg. Boris was hugging it. He’d done this a few times since the game earlier. Blake had angled his monitor upward so Boris wouldn’t be able to see the other fluffies. He used headphones for sound. Blake didn’t want him to have the temptation.
“wuv ou daddeh.”
“Wuv you too buddy.” Blake reached down and scratched the creature behind the ears.
He saw an opportunity. “Hey Boris, why did you pick the carrot?” Blake watched his reaction. It looked like he was thinking hard about the question.
“Bawis nu know. Bawis wan’ be wid uddah fwuffies an hab speshaw fwen an’ wand… bu Bawis nu pick wockie, so Bawis mus’ wan’ be wid daddeh mowe.”
Blake mulled that over. He wasn’t sure but he guessed that the fluffy had actually picked the carrot on accident. A bit disappointing but it was strange that Boris was treating the outcome as a choice made volitionally. He seemed to accept it completely. He wasn’t even conflicted or sad.
“Bawis nu go wid fwuffies bu… Can daddeh bwing fwuffies inside and be aww fwuffies’ daddeh?” His eyes lit up.
“Well, I might be willing to bring a few good ones in at some point.” Blake scratched at a non-existent beard.
“But Bawis wan fwends nao!” He wasn’t angry yet, more whiny, but his fluffy’s mood appeared to be heading that direction.
“Do you want dummeh fwuffies in the house Boris? They’ll eat all your skettie and cawwots.” The fluffy frowned. “Remember when you were in a herd and they all made fun of your name? Those fluffies are the same, and they already have a smarty. If i bring them in they’ll probably give you sowwy hoovsies and take all your toys. I’m not going to help you if that happens.”
Boris looked downright distraught. “Dat, dat am twue, Bawis know.”
“Hey buddy, don’t get so down in the dumps.”
“Bawis nu in dumps.” Blake blinked.
“Focus Boris. Look, these fluffies, they really like games. After we play a few more, you’ll be better than their smarty, and then you can be the sma- the leader of daddeh’s fwuffies. But I don’t want all of them, I just want a few. Okay sport?”
“Who sport?”
“Okay Boris?”
“Otay daddeh, Bawis am be smawtie weadah.”
He’d have to find a way to strike that word from the fluffy’s brain.
“Bu daddeh, am wun fwuffie otay?”
“Uh, I mean we could maybe get away with one.”
“Bawis can hab speshaw fwen!? Bawis speshaw wumps hab wostest hawties” This little con artist… Damn, if Blake had figured out the problem he probably could have done this whole conversation better.
“You’ll have to play for that.”
“Wa daddeh wan?”
“If you lose, I take your speshaw wumps forever.” Boris’s pupils dilated a little at his words. It’s front hooves instinctively covered its crotch. He half expected the creature to crap itself. “Well, we don’t have to…”
“Nu! Bawis du. Nu wan wose speshaw wumps, bu’ Bawis am gud fwuffie. Wiw win speshaw fwen!”
Blake sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. He supposed he could just buy a mare and spay her, or feed her some foal-be-gone, but that sounded like a lot of work, money, potential tragedy or combination of all three.
Even if he did find a work around, it didn’t seem right permanently denying a creature its right to offspring. That, and if Boris really was a smarty the odds of him turning on a barren partner meant an unusually cruel end for whatever poor mare Blake brought to him…
“Are you sure? This game will be way harder than the last ones.”
“Nu cawe, wan speshaw fwen!”
Well putting this off only risked future incidents, and he didn’t want to neuter him now. That would lower Boris’s standing if he ever used him on the herd… maybe. He wasn’t actually sure how fluffies treated eunuchs.
“Well, you are a really good fluffy so you do kinda need a special friend.” The fluffy danced in place. “But you still have to earn it.” Blake stood up and walked toward a room he’d never let Boris into.
“C’mon, let’s get to work.” Boris gave him a confused look but the fluffy followed.
Blake opened the door. “Boris, I think it’s time you helped me test my bravest fluffy game. You can be brave right?”
“Ob couwse!” Head held high, Blake and Boris entered the playroom.
Blake finished his morning coffee. It was a few days after he’d tried his new game with Boris and he’d intentionally set his alarm for just before the herd usually awoke. That still gave him hours before Boris usually woke up. The benefits of a windowless safe room.
Boris had helped him perfect his new device, and Blake had bought himself some time before he’d have to give the little asshole a mate.
Blake pulled a container of spaghetti from the fridge, set it in the microwave and let it run.
Dawning his anti-shitter equipment he stepped out into the yard quietly, leaving the door open. All of the fluffies, including the orange toughie who was supposed to be guarding them, had passed out.
Blake looked for his target. The red pegasus toughie. Unfortunately it was in the fluff pile, but it was on the edge.
Blake got close enough to loom over the pile. Their bodies heaved breaths in a strangely misaligned rhythm. Blake placed a hand on the fluffy’s side. It jiggled a little but didn’t stir. After that he put his other hand around its mouth. His head moved a little and its tongue drooped out a bit licking his gloved hand. It grimaced and kicked a little retracting the tongue.
Seemed it was now or never. Blake’s hand clamped hard on its mouth and with a quick yank he hoisted the creature.
Shit and urine rained down from the creature as it thrashed wildly. Its eyes sprung open as it tried to crane its head to see what had grabbed it. The foul substances had landed only partially on the pile. None of them seemed to notice.
Blake turned around and slinked away. The fluffy in his arms thrashed but it had no chance of escaping his grip. Blake stopped midway over the yard and squeezed the creature a little harder. Sure enough, more crap rained out from its backside and he could hear it try to yell under his other hand. After he was sure it’d emptied he trudged forward
He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped on the patio. He took a quick look back to see if anyone had noticed. Nothing in the pile.
He craned his head a little more and he met a pair of eyes. The puke green fluffy was staring at him. It didn’t say a word. Blake broke eye contact and quickly dashed into the house. He used his foot to slide the door closed and let the curtain fall over it naturally.
Now safe in his home with a freshly emptied fluffy he set the creature on the counter keeping its mouth covered.
The creature tried using its hooves to push Blake’s hands away. Blake reached up to the microwave with his free hand and removed the pasta from the microwave. With some effort he forced the lid off and the smell of sauce filled the room. The fluffy ceased its futile escape attempt and stared, nostrils flaring.
“Smells good right?” He felt the creature tried to nod under his grip.
“You want some?” Again the creature attempted to nod.
“When I take my hands off your face, no screaming, no yelling, no name calling. Keep your voice down or I’ll rip your little wings off. If you are quiet, I’ll give you some of this skettie. Think you can do that?”
The creature gave another nod.
“Good” Though a problem on their own, toughies were pretty good at taking orders as far as Blake knew. They could be hostile to humans, but they were far easier to salvage if isolated.
Blake removed his hand. The creature took a deep breath but didn’t speak. Blake presented it a fork-full of spaghetti and the creature clamped onto it, not seeming to understand that it couldn’t eat the fork too.
Blake waited for it to bite down again and slide the fork out leaving the spaghetti and the creature finished the food without issue.
“Tank ‘ou. Am hab mowe?” It said quietly.
“Only if you play for it.” Blake replied. The fluffy shook its head.
“Nu wike cuppie game. Nu undahstan’.”
“Oh no, this isn’t a smarty game, this is a game for brave toughies.” The fluffy gave him a dopey grin as its tail shook approvingly.
“Dat am soun’ fun. Appew am bewwy bwabe toughie”
“Good, then I’ll carry you to the game.” The fluffy assumed the upsies position. Blake hoisted him under the arms.
“You said your name was Apple?”
“Appew am namsie, nice mistuh am Bwake?”
“Yup.” Blake opened the door to his “game room.” A few projects littered the area along with a hose hooked up to a faucet above two sinks. What Blake was looking for was a wooden structure built around an inflatable pool placed on several layers of memory foam. He approached the set up.
“Can you fly?”
“Nu, stupie wingies nu wowk.”
“Then why don’t I help you?”
“Wu-“ Blake tossed the fluffy lightly into the air.
“Nu wike big upsies!” Apple landed roughly on the inflatable pool. Blake had tested the apparatus with Boris. As far as he could tell, fluffies were a bit light for their size and while a decent fall could cripple one, a cushioned fall was fairly safe. Probably.
The fluffy came to a stop. Blake hadn’t heard the sounds of bones cracking and the fluffy wasn’t bawling.
“I think you did pretty well.”
Apple pulled himself to his feet trying to keep balance as the inflated ground beneath him shifted. “Sowf gwoundie?” He shifted his hooves swaying in the pool. “Dank ou foh catch Appew nice gwondie!”
“Pretty nice right? You won’t get hurt if you fall on this.” Blake walked over, lifted the fluffy to shoulder height, and dropped him again. He bounced as he hit the pool.
“Heh heh.” The fluffy let out a little laugh. “Am fun! Du ‘gain!”
“Sorry buddy, we have stuff to do.”
“Wut dat?”
The structure the Fluffy was in the middle of was flanked by two wooden pillars. The first had a ramp leading up to a platform. The ramp and the platform had high walls preventing the clumsy creatures from wandering off the side.
The other pillar’s platform was closed from all sides except the one facing the pool. It was wide enough that about 3 full sized toughies could comfortably stand there.
There were divots in the pool-side openings. Blake had several planks sitting on the wall that appeared to be able to fit in the gaps. He even had a locking mechanism to fasten the planks into place.
“Alright, go to the regular groundie.” The creature raised its hooves to be lifted again. Blake motioned to a ramp he’d built into the set up.
The top of the ramp reached over the lip of the pool and into it. It was quite heavy so it wouldn’t tip when a fluffy hung onto it. It had a raised lip at the end for the fluffy to grip so it could pull itself free from the pool.
Boris had figured it out after a minute of trying, and by the third attempt he’d had no problem climbing out immediately.
Apple moved toward the ramp and Blake waited for him to pull himself out. It took him a few attempts but it was still quicker than Boris. He slowly waddled his way down the ramp and to the floor. Blake grabbed a large wooden plank and placed it in-between the two platforms. (If my explanation is unclear, it’s basically an inflatable pool with a bridge built over it and a pathway that leads out of it.)
“This is called a bridge. It connects this side to that side.” Blake slid a fork full of spaghetti to the end not connected the ramp. “Now, come over here.” Blake motioned to the bottom of the ramp on the other side.
“Appew nu wissen to dummeh hoomin, Appew onwy wissen tu smawtie.”
“Oh? But there’s sketti up here.”
“Sketti!?” The creature bolted up the ramp at a breakneck… 10 second pace. When he reached the top he stopped. “Whew am sketti?” It eyed the prize at the other end of the ramp. Immediately he waddled out toward the other end. The bridge was wide enough that the creature had no trouble making its journey. After reaching the end it bent down and munched on the food. Blake stood back at the entrance.
“Good job, you win.”
“Win wha-“ The fluffy turned, missed a step and rolled off the edge of the end. “Waaaaah!” It fell harmlessly back into the pool with a light bounce. After shaking his head he looked around. “Softie gwoundie sabe fwuffie ‘gain, tank ou!”
Little bastard sure knew how to be polite to inanimate objects. “Yup. Get it now? If you can make it to the end of that bridge you can get your sketti, and afterward you get to fly… kinda.”
Apple danced in the pool. “Dis am bestest wingie toughie game ebah!”
“Glad you think so.”
Blake grabbed the bowl holding it up to Apple before snatching it back. It pawed uselessly upward unable to reach it. “Gib skettie to Appew!”
“Go get it yourself. You know the way.” Blake tapped the escape ramp. After processing the hint for a few seconds eventually the toughie made the walk out of the pit. Blake grabbed a carrot placing it on the goal at the end of the bridge.
Blake grabbed the bridge and removed it while the fluffy trotted down, quickly replacing it with a much thinner board that tapered into an even thinner end. This board hadn’t given Boris too much trouble. This had been surprising because unlike pegasus fluffies unicorns had an aversion to heights, especially blatantly hazardous ones.
Blake had warmed Boris up a bit beforehand by lightly dropping him in the empty pool a few times. By the end the fluffy loved it and would put his hooves up to be picked up so he could get tossed again.
Of course this came with its own issues. Boris hadn’t seemed to understand that only the pool was safe to fall on. To drive the point home Blake had dumped the creature on the actual ground. A bit of a risk but the fluffy had landed as gracefully as he possibly could have (6) and while not harmed seemed to understand well enough that heights would still be a problem outside of the device.
Boris had made the first run on the plank he was placing now without any issues (5). Blake then switched out for an even more narrow plank. This the fluffy tumbled off of once, following it up with a successful cross (3, 6). Boris seemed to understand the game element of it very well and after the first failure had been pretty fired up.
Blake left the same plank and let him run again. This time Boris stumbled out the gate and crashed pretty hard into the pool. Blake was worried he’d snap his horn in the tumble but the creature seemed only a little roughed up. The attempt after, he made it about halfway before slipping and falling. Boris had stomped his hooves angrily but walked out for another try of his own volition. Finally, another success though slow and nervous the attempt had been. (1, 2, 4)
Boris had celebrated that last victory far more than the previous. As with past competitions, Boris took consecutive losses poorly but treated the wins with so much enthusiasm that he’d laxed in demanding the promised reward. Still, Blake had been generous with the portions.
Blake had stopped the game there promising that if Boris could clear the harder bridges he’d give him a special friend.
Blake wondered if this would be consistent between the rest as well. Apple definitely enjoyed the fall more than Boris had. Would that change his reaction to failure? Apple’s mood seemed brighten until he made it to the top of the bridge. He squinted at the carrot waiting for him at the end.
“Dat nu am skettie!”
“No, but if you can get it I’ll give you more sketti than last time. I just don’t want the board to get messy.”
“Nu undahstan’”
“Look, just grab the good orange nummeh and I’ll give you that AND more sketti. How does that sound?”
“Hmmmm.” To the creature’s credit, it did have an impressive thinking face for a fluffy. Blake was just really sick of passing every decision through whatever passed for this thing’s skepticism.
“Otay.” It finally said. “Appew stiww am bewwy hungwy.”
With that, Apple marched forward down the ramp with all the confidence of an unsuspecting pickpocket victim. After about halfway he halted. “Dis… nu am wight.”
“What’s wrong? You afraid now?” Apple’s face tightened in attempt to hide his concern. “You can do it Apple, you’re the bravest toughie around!” Whatever concern the creature had, it seemed to melt under Blake’s encouragement.
With a slower pace and a newly discovered caution, Apple pressed on. As the path continued to narrow he started to shake. Apple was only a few paces out from the carrot when he tripped over nothing and tumbled off the edge. He landed softly in the pool below.
“Waaah!” He shouted.
Laying on its side in the empty pool the creature looked up and its head flopped back down. “Huu huu…” Blake gave the creature a confused look.
“Are you hurt?” He took a closer look at apple but nothing seemed off. The wing on his side was stretched out, but no more than when a regular pegasus fluffy slept. No bent legs. It hadn’t even landed hard.
Apple rolled over and blinked. It shook like an animal attempting to dry itself and then stared at nothing before turning to Blake. “Nu hawt. Wan’ upsies!” The creature assumed the carry position.
Blake simply tapped the exit ramp. “Do it yourself. I only give gud upsies to winners.”
The creature shot him a sad resentful look but trudged over to the ramp. Blake waited the agonizing minute before the creature arrived at the entrance. He looked a little winded but Blake didn’t mind. It rested a bit before starting.
“Gonna get dat cawwot den hoomin gib Appew su much sketti.” He marched down the ramp much slower than the first time. Little good it did him, halfway down the ramp his head craned to Blake and the little idiot fell off the side again. (2)
Blake let out a small chuckle and the creature glared at him. “Nu waff! Dummeh hoomin!”
“Huh? did you say something? Can’t hear you all the way down there.” The creature angrily thrashed at the pool and as fast as it could ran for the exit. The haste almost caused Apple to fall off the exit ramp (3). This seemed to have spooked him and he resumed a careful pace.
Apple continued to the entrance. Again he exited at a crawl. Like before he made it about halfway but this time he simply tripped over his own feet again tumbling into the pool. (2)
“Wow, you really suck at this.”
“Huuu huuu…” The creature stayed on its back. It seemed deflated now.
“What’s wrong?”
“Fwuffie am dummeh.” Blake let the creature sob for several seconds. Eventually it righted itself. Blake decided to switch gears.
“It’s okay buddy, just take it slow. I know you can do it!” Blake put as much sweetness in the words as he could manage. It came naturally as he was actually enjoying himself. He’d heard some stories about how you could break a smarty by setting them up for failure then repeatedly encouraging them. It had a pretty high failure rate as fluffies were perfectly capable of forgetting they’d failed in the first place. Hopefully Toughie ego was easier to mold.
Blake was happy with the idea of either a “wan die” loop, or more effort from Apple. Both outcomes had some potential entertainment value. If he was lucky, he’d get something completely unexpected.
“Weawwy?” It asked him innocently.
“Of course buddy. Hey, just this once…” Blake reached down and picked Apple up setting him at the entrance. “I’ll help you out, but no more free rides.”
“Hee hee, otay nice mistuh. Appew win dis time!” And out he went. Emboldened by the encouragement it trudged forward. Blake let out a relieved sigh when the creature beat the halfway point. This was short lived as once again Apple missed a step only a few paces out from the end (3).
“Well, someone’s going hungry.”
“Why fwuffie weggies nu wan wowk? Dummeh weggie!” He stayed down.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Get going.”
“Nu! dummeh weggie nu wan do!” Blake’s eye twitched. It would be no good if the creature gave up now.
“Well then, get out of my pool.”
“Nu wan walkie wight nao.”
“Move.”
“NU!” Blake had wanted to wait before introducing bigger consequences, but this thing seemed like it wasn’t going to be persuaded with requests and Blake didn’t want to flatter him until he won again. That aside this presented an opportunity.
Blake walked to the faucet and unraveled a bit of the hose. Blake turned on the cold water, brought the hose to the pool and released the nozzle allowing water to spill into the pool. The fluffy startled at the noise and recoiled at the sight of the water. This of course only succeeded in guiding the water to its hooves where the pool sagged.
“Wawa cowd! Nu wike! Cowd wawa bad foh fwuffies!” It tried to run but fell over drenching itself. “Skreeeee!” The noise was ear piercing.
“Better climb out.”
Apple mostly just thrashed in the water. Blake continued to fill the pool as the fluffy eventually made its way to the ramp and tumbled down to the ground.
“Well that was stupid.”
“Why dummeh hoomin gib fwuffie cowd wawa!?”
“You wouldn’t leave the loser pit.”
“Fwuffie nu wan pway dummeh hoomin game nu mowe!” It puffed out its cheeks. Blake was about to drench the little rat but decided to try on something else instead.
With a large grin on his face he knelt down to look Apple directly in the eyes. “Fluffy, your new name is Poopeater.”
Apple blinked at him.
“Da, dat nu am namsie.”
Blake’s mouth formed a twisted grin and he crossed his fingers. “What’s your name?”
“Dat easy, Fwuffie am named Poopeatew!”
The creature blinked and began fidgeting nervously. “Nu! Dat nu am name. Fwuffie hab pwetty name from mummah!” Its eyes drifted around the room aimlessly as if it were searching for the missing information.
“And that name would be…?”
“Poopeatew!” The creature’s eyes went wide with horror and it covered its face.
Blake was delighted. He wasn’t certain when the creature started referring to itself as “fluffy” rather than “appew,” but it definitely came after the losses. When fluffies were significantly upset they would stop using their own names. It happened when they tried to lie as well.
Fluffy programming was wonky as hell, and to an extent fluffies could reject names from humans they didn’t view as owners. This required some level of dominance and self assurance. It was only a guess, but the game seemed to really diminish the confidence of these little crap factories when they suffered consecutive losses.
“So Poopeater, I know your old name. Even if your friends tell you your old name Poopeater, you won’t be able to remember it. I’m the only one who can give it back Poopeater. So here’s the deal Poopeater: I’ll give you back your old amazing name if you can get the carrot Poopeater.” He watched as the fluffy winced at each instance of the name.
“N-Nu wan’ cowd wawa.”
“Poopeater scared of a little cold water?” Blake laughed mocking him. “Fine, stay down here. I’ll just keep your old name and you can keep your stupid name.”
“Huu huu…” The creature sobbed but trudged back toward the ramp and to the entrance.
Blake got close as Poopeater walked toward the start of the bridge. “That’s the spirit Poopeater!” The fluffy’s head whipped around and it stumbled into a fall. (1) Blake caught him and set him back on the plank. Poopeater started shivering.
“My bad.” Blake may have cheated a little there, but he didn’t want the fluffy formerly known as Apple to give up now.
On he trudged shaking. Again, only a few steps out the path proved too narrow and he plummeted toward the water. Blake didn’t help him this time.
“Skreeeeegragrah.” Poopeater inhaled some liquid before finding a way to keep his head above water.
He stumbled forward before tripping and driving his own face under again. (1) Blake grabbed his scruff and yanked his head back into breathable air. The creature hacked and coughed but was partially strangled against Blake’s grasp. Blake dragged him to the top of the exit ramp. The creature laid there sobbing silently weakly trying to clear its lungs. Blake thought he heard a few peeps.
“Get up Poopeater.” Another loud sob escaped its throat. “Nu wan’ nu wan’ nu mowe. Gib back namsie, chirp gib back hewd!”
“Too bad. I won’t make you go again, but… If you go back out there with that name. They’ll kick the crap out of you. You’ll never get to sleep in the fluff pile. Never have speshaw huggies…” Blake’s eyes narrowed at the toughie as he leaned toward its ear. “You’ll die, slowly.”
“peep Huu huu…” Listlessly the creature got up as if in a trance.
“Gonna try again?”
Poopeater ignored him and continued the walk. He dragged his feet all the way to the entrance and back up to the start.
“Good luck.”
Again, no response as the creature sullenly trudged forward. This was quickly approaching the point of no return. When fluffies started making bird noises, it usually meant they’d been ruined enough for it to be considered brain damage. Still, he made his way up the ramp to start again.
To Blake’s surprise, the creature crossed the halfway point with ease. It was like it had some kind of tunnel vision, it wasn’t eyeing the edge or even the carrot, he just kept going.
To Blake’s astonishment he made it all the way to the carrot. And… kept going, past the carrot and bumping its head on the wall. (5)
“Owwwie.” Poopeater rubbed his hoof on his head. Stunned, he looked around the room seeming to have no understanding of where he was. He tried to find his bearings before stopping on the carrot. “Poopeatew fin’ cawwot!?” The creature seemed genuinely surprised.
“So you did.” Blake offered a slow clap.
Poopeater looked up at him with teary eyes. “P-poopeatew did it!” It reared up letting out a loud stupid laugh falling on its back. Blake’s hand shot out to make sure it didn’t fall out. He lifted the fluffy out with the carrot and set both on the ground.
“Nice mistuh gib Poopeater owd namsie back?”
“Alright, promise is a promise. Poopeater, your new name is Apple.”
“Tank ou daddeh, Poopeatew wuv new…” The creature’s eyes widened about as much as Blake’s.
“Apple… your name is Apple.” Blake tried again.
“Appew! Poopeatew wuv namesie!” The creature looked shell shocked. “Huu huu, why new namsie nu wike fwuffie?” It covered its face. “Nuuuuu!”
“Well damn, now I just feel bad.” Blake scratched his head. He eyed the sorry stick wondering how many smacks it would take to get it back into a more receptive state. He could pretend to adopt him for a minute, but that would probably present its own issues. Blake was interrupted by the fluffy hugging his leg.
“Hoomin pwease hewp fwuffie?” Ah, there we go.
“Fluffy, your new name is Apple.”
“Wuh?”
“What’s your name?”
“Appew name am Appew.” (5) Another blink.
“Do you remember the name you just had.”
“Appew?”
Blake tempted fate. “No do you remember the name Poopeater?” The fluffy shivered releasing his leg, its ears and tail drooped.
“Appew nu wan heaw dat namsie nu mowe!”
Okay so renaming wasn’t a perfect system. Blake was just happy he hadn’t had to spend a day literally beating the fluffy’s name back into it. “Well in any case, here’s the rest of your prize.” Blake presented the creature with two big clumps of spaghetti.
“Yaaaaay!” The creature’s tail went wild as it dove head first into the pasta. Blake let him have his moment.
“Thanks for the help, I think we’re just about ready for some real fun.”
“Weaw fun?”
Blake said nothing but smiled thinking about how he would go about the next few days. He had a few more experiments to run, but he was becoming impatient.
Blake wanted to play something a little more lethal, he just needed a more deserving target that wasn’t Bubbles.
“Anyway Apple, wanna play again?”
Apple gave Blake a worried look. Blake grinned.
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