Blake continued fluffing Custard’s fluff as he kept the hair dryer on her. He’d left Comet in the closet after a quick clean-up job. He’d insisted on Blake leaving the cup game with him so he could examine the components. Blake wasn’t sure it would be of any benefit but he wanted the little guy content for the time being.
“Dummeh munstah hoomin! Wet Custawd gu! Gib back see pwaces! Nee’ hug mummah! Nee’ teww Bubbews!” Custard had shouted this and similar sentiments between angry sobs in the bath. Blake had kept her restrained.
“Oh? What’ll happen if you do?” Blake asked her as he continued his work. Her fluff was almost dry now.
“Bubbews an’ toughies wiww gib wowstess hawties ebah!” Blake snickered in response. He turned the hair dryer off.
He leaned down to her ear. “Bitch.” He whispered. She froze.
“You don’t like that word right? Something in your head screams at you when you hear it. Bitch, bitch, bitch…” He chanted into her ear.
She thrashed against the restraints. She screamed at him to stop, she threatened, threw insults and eventually devolved into pleading. Tears streamed down her face and eventually she went quiet from tiring herself out.
“Good. I want you to hate me as much as possible for what comes next. I’m about to give you back your see-pwaces, and the first thing you get to see is yourself. Do you know what a mirror is?”
She didn’t respond. Blake had assumed that she wouldn’t know. She was feral and mirrors were not among the things that fluffies were programmed to know about.
“Mirrors look like the things in front of them. You aren’t about to see another fluffy. You’re about to see Custard.”
“Dat impossibew. Dummeh…” She muttered.
“You’ll figure it out on your own, just wanted to make sure you have the answer in your head.” Blake removed the blindfold. Custard blinked. Her hooves moved to rub her eyes but she couldn’t actually reach her head now. Her eyes roamed for a moment before they fell on the mirror.
She stared at it perplexed. “Who am poopie fwuffie? Sissy?” She looked like she was trying to put something together. She must have been very confused by the brown fluffy she was seeing.
Blake hadn’t just settled on brown. Before he’d even taken Boris in he’d researched the exact worst color for a fluffy to be. It wasn’t just brown. It was brown with a greenish tint, almost impossible to reach naturally. Not just the color of excrement, but sick excrement. It was a color so hideous it almost had a smell to it.
And she did smell now. A more unique purchase that Blake had made was a soap specifically for abusers. Her fur smelled faintly of Vinegar. Fluffies shared an aversion to it with cats. Custard didn’t know this yet. The pepper spray that Blake had been using had a side effect of anosmia if applied directly to the snout. She hadn’t liked that.
She’d get her sense of smell back sometime tonight. It would be a toss up if she’d be able to detect her own awful stench or if easing into it would disguise it. Either way, Blake was eager to see the result.
What she could percieve now was just a section of her old fur color. She wasn’t just another ugly brown-green fluffy, she was an ugly brown-green fluffy with a splotch of her own natural yellow around the eyes. Blake figured this would make her even more bizarre to regular fluffies.
Blake let her leg restraints slack and pushed her up to the mirror.
“Go ahead and move around. That’s you. That fluffy you’re seeing is you, Custard.”
Custard reached out and tapped the mirror. She thrashed a little trying to get closer. She kept bopping the mirror and eventually looked to her brown hoof.
“Skreeeee!?” She yelled scrunching her own eyes shut trying to shake the nightmare she was seeing away.
Custard wasn’t even making words. She was acting as if he’d stuck her in a vat of acid. When her eyes opened she was hyperventilating. Blake wouldn’t have been shocked if she’d died from a heart attack on the spot. She rubbed her hooves together in what Blake assumed was an attempt to get the ugly color off her.
“Wha hoomin du!?” Her head whipped around on him. “Gib back pwetty fwuff!” She demanded.
“I’ll do you one better…” Blake draped a fluff blanket over Custard.
“Mu-mummah?” She said looking on the fluff. “Wu whewe mummah? Why onwy fwuff. Wha…?” She seemed to be in shock. Blake took the blanket back and held it in front of her face blocking the mirror.
The object itself was versatile and worked for both abuse and comfort. Hug boxy shelters would use these blankets to trap the scent of a dead or living mother so the foals wouldn’t feel stressed through formula feeding or other procedures.
Abusers could literally drape fluffies in the disembodied “skin” of dead loved ones. Clearly, Blake was doing the latter. Though, without her sense of smell… This plan may have been poorly executed, but at least Custard was jumping to the proper conclusion.
“This is all that’s left of her. I fed her body to a munstah.”
Custards eyes shut again as she fought back tears. “Hatechu! hate hoomin su much. Wet ou’! Wet ou’!” Her hooves slammed against the ground beneath her. She bit at the restraints.
Blake was loving it. It wasn’t the suffering that was really doing it for him though. It was the fight. This is what he needed to channel into a game. He needed to find away to trigger this animosity the next time he pit two fluffies against each other. Of course, he needed them to put that energy into whatever game he crafted. It was a tricky problem, but the first step was cultivating that animosity.
He watched as she continued to struggle satisfied at the result he’d gotten. It was bittersweet though. This particular bout of anger would go to waste. Custard wouldn’t be able to do a thing with it.
Blake sighed. He eyed the tacks next to him. A very dumb idea popped into his head.
Blake brought his hand down to Custard’s mouth. Immediately she seized it. He could feel her straining as hard as she could. He felt her flat teeth grind uselessly into his flesh. He felt her open and reclose her jaws as she tried harder and harder to inflict any kind of wound on him.
Blake didn’t even feel a pinch. Eventually he pulled his hand back from her mouth and turned it over in front of her.
“None of you can do anything to me. Not Apple, Not bubbles, and definitely not you.” She kept her eyes on him as she huffed. “You’re going to spend the rest of your miserable life in my house, but after I do just one more awful thing to you I’ll never take a direct action to harm you again. I won’t ever need to. Before that though…” Blake pulled out one of the tacks. Custard gave it a weary look but didn’t back down. “This one time I’ll let you really hurt me.”
He set his arm below custard with the tack facing down into his own forearm. He kept his own fingers on the tack to hold it in place.
Custard looked Blake in the eyes then down at the tack. In a swift motion she stomped on it. Of course this would have done almost nothing on its own but Blake pushed down as soon as she made contact.
He regretted the decision immediately.
The tack bit into his arm and he felt the pain shoot through it. He felt it push through flesh and what he assumed was muscle. He gritted his teeth but he couldn’t keep the grunt out of his voice. Custard recoiled immediately.
“Hoomin otay?” She said in a genuinely concerned voice.
A gasp of incredulity escaped Blake’s throat. “C’mon now, don’t go default on me! Remember what I did!? I killed your mom for fucks sake!” He couldn’t explain where his indignation was coming from. From the outside what he was doing was completely insane. Fluffies weren’t people, you didn’t owe one consideration.
He should have been angry at himself. They weren’t really alive, so he’d pretty much suffered this minor pain for nothing.
He wasn’t angry at that though. The thing that was pissing him off at the moment was the programming keeping Custard from really enjoying this moment. That thing, the voice in her head saying that something was wrong. She deserved to enjoy this, to at least revel in the suffering of her worst enemy.
But Blake was human. Fluffies could shut out empathy for each other, but concern for human life and safety specifically went deeper.
It was cruel beyond words that she couldn’t just enjoy his suffering. It was something of a relief when her face returned to fury.
“D-dat wight. Dummeh hoomin desewbe pointie munstah. Desewbe su many pointie munstahs…” She wasn’t asserting it as fact, it was an argument she was having with an unseen party.
“You’re absolutely right.” After a moment’s hesitation she pounced on it again, though far lighter than the previous stomp, Blake definitely did feel it. He let out another grunt and again she gave him a worried look. She shook it off, but she didn’t try again.
Blake didn’t coax her but he didn’t pull away either. Still, she wouldn’t take another shot at him.
“You did pretty good all things considered… but this is all you get. If you’re lucky I’ll get an infection, but probably not…” Blake relaxed his arm. It stung. He didn’t intend to take the tack out until he was done with the rest.
The hell he was gonna back out now and be outdone by a bunch of shit-rats. He calmly pulled the wires and Custard’s legs were dragged taught.
“So, now that we’ve settled that, it’s time for your final punishment.”
Blake picked up a long implement from the table and grabbed Custard’s head. “This is called ‘The Fluffy Devocalizer: Fussy Foal Edition.’”
“Wha hoomin dummeh wowds mean?” She stared warily at the device in Blake’s hand.
“You know how you have a tawkie pwace and it lets you make wowds? This thing in my hand takes that away from you.”
She gave him a horrified look. “NU! Dummeh hoomin nu take away tawkie pwace!” She was struggling to move her head against his grip.
“Normally I’d let you play for it, but I can’t really afford to have you spilling the beans about what happened here. I could just put you down, but that would be even less fair. Your mother did die to keep you safe after all. And well… keeping a pretty mare around for future appeasement is also important.”
Blake drew the device down to her mouth. Custard grit her teeth…
“Oh right. Almost forgot…” Blake pulled out a plastic ring with a strap. He forced her jaws apart and jammed it between them. It was a little big for her mouth but it made sure her throat would remain unobstructed.
Blake fed the device down her windpipe and she gagged. He’d left it on since before the bath so there was little chance that it wasn’t warmed up.
The device was made to ruin the vocal tissue with a combination of small blades and cauterization. It also had a narrow hole built through it so breathing wouldn’t be completely hampered by the insertion. It would be inhumane for a dog but fluffies were below such considerations. It would hurt about as much as an amputation.
The one advantage that fluffies had over other creatures was the Hasbio formula heal gel. Blake wasn’t sure about the details but it was medicine unique to fluffies specifically used to prevent wounds from festering and close them much quicker. The devocalizer would dispense it at the end of the process.
Blake pushed the button and a horrible sound erupted from Custard’s throat. Blake saw what looked like steam rise from inside her mouth. Her eyes were wide but drew half lidded before closing. Blake hoped she’d only passed out and not up and died from the trauma. After about 30 seconds he removed the device. It had a bit of crimson stained onto it and it was covered in saliva. He waved it around in the air to cool it a bit before setting it on the table.
Blake checked her throat with a flashlight. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be looking for. He wasn’t a doctor or anything. It certainly looked like a mangled fluffy throat but he wasn’t sure how mangled it had to be for it to be an issue.
At the very least, nothing seemed to be obstructing her throat and Blake could see her chest lightly heaving air in and out.
Blake removed the plastic from her mouth and moved to the sink. He spent the next few minutes cleaning his tools. He finished just in time to see Custard stir.
Custard opened her eyes. Immediately her face scrunched in discomfort and she made several desperate gulping and breathing noises. Tears streamed down her face and she struggled against the restraints.
“So, did it work?” Blake asked her.
She opened her mouth and Blake heard nothing above an incoherent rasp. She seemed surprised by it herself. She opened her mouth and tried again, looking as if she was shouting. Again, Blake could hear the air moving out of her mouth and a little rasp.
Blake saw the moment of realization on her face as the tears started fresh again.
“Perfect. Now I’ll introduce you to your new family.” Her eyes rose to meet his. “That’s right, you’ll get to spend the rest of your life around a bunch of fluffies who won’t be able to understand you. Even worse, they all really love me, and if you make me feel sad, they’ll make you feel even worse.”
Blake reached down and released her restraints as she continued to sob silently under them.
“But that doesn’t mean it’ll be all bad. Like I said, I won’t ever hurt you again, and if the others like you they won’t hurt you either.” She lifted her head slightly in his direction. To Blake’s delight, there was still anger and even a hint of defiance there.
“Heck, if you can find it in your stupid little heart to forgive me, this could be a pretty sweet deal for you. Spaghetti, babies, me not ripping your legs off… It could be pretty good.” Blake walked over to the closet.
“Now then, let’s take your brother and introduce you to the herd.”
————
“Daddeh, Whewe am nyu fwends!?” Boris said as he wiggled around excitedly. Blake had left the two foals on the table above his makeshift herd. All five had shown up at the news of “Nyu fwends.” For the occasion Blake had prepared several bowls of pasta and allowed the whole crew to chow down. He figured they should be in a good mood for the introduction.
Comet had also been given some. Custard as well, though eating appeared to be quite painful for her.
The smell was still heavy in the room. Good too, just in case Blake had missed removing the scent of the room’s previous occupants.
Comet was remaining quiet as he stacked blocks on the table. He was on his sixth surprisingly. He was eyeing the structure with an intense level of determination.
It would have been impressive if he hadn’t tipped forward into it while taking a closer look.
Custard was pacing around the jar Blake had put her in. Every so often she would stop and glare at him.
To his surprise, Comet didn’t recognize her. It shouldn’t have been that big of a shock though. Comet still identified other fluffies by color and scent just like all the others.
Fluffies also had a categorization issue. Custard could talk, new Custard couldn’t. Comet was also still very gullible. Blake had told him his dummeh sissy lost a game and been executed. Comet simply took that information as fact. When Blake presented him with the dummeh nu tawkie babeh, Comet had simply accepted that it was a new fluffy in front of him.
To be fair, Blake wasn’t sure all this was genuine gullibility rather than a lack of fucks given. Comet obviously didn’t care about his sister. He’d not even looked up from the blocks he was stacking when Blake gave him the news. He’d sniffed Custard once before deciding she smelled bad and left it at that.
Blake considered washing the shampoo out of her. He’d known the devocalizer would be gruesome but the smell and the now eerie presence of the formerly talkative foal made the additional misery seem petty.
He’d decided to just let it fade out naturally over the next few days instead of reapplying as he’d planned. The others would forget why they found her gross, but probably wouldn’t stop thinking it. If she could gain status in this herd, she’d really have to earn it. Or maybe she was screwed and they’d just torment her.
“Now everyone, I want to tell you up front, these new fluffies are a bit different.” Boris eyed him suspiciously as soon as the words left his mouth. Blake hadn’t brought him a “normal good fluffy” since this whole thing had started. Blake wasn’t sure if Boris could ever truly get over the oddities of his herd.
He was taking a chance on it. Blake had heard stories of crap colored fluffies grouping up if they were lucky enough to encounter each other. Those fluffies would have the same programming as regular fluffies, they would just be reacting based on their own past treatment. There was no reason why a crap colored brown fur fluffy wouldn’t dislike a crap colored green fluffy aside from life experience.
This particular quirk had actually been confirmed. Some more elaborate abusers had uploaded videos of spoiled off-color fluffies rejecting the other respective off-color foals as poopie babies. This particular person made a whole series out of it. Blake had learned or at least inferred several helpful things.
First, fluffy color preference is damn near universal. There are just certain shades of fluff most of them hate. Only straight up aberrations are the exception.
Second, the programming that instills this idea is weak in comparison to most other directives in fluffies. A fluffy broken of this directive will still show a distaste for the color, but will re-categorize crap colored fluffies as being a pretty color. The reverse was also possible thought more difficult.
Brown and green fluffies tend to be broken of this trait easier because all fluffies also have a preference for their own fluff color. There seems to be some conflict between the two preferences that cancels both out. This also means that they rarely have bestest babies either.
Third, and possibly the most bizarre, fluffies have an innate understanding of their own fluff color.
Some kind hearted owners have attempted to fix problems among their multiple fluffies by dying the bad colored fluffies more favorable colors. Dyed fluffies experience a kind of discomfort whenever the topic of their fluff color is brought up. This is more extreme the further away from the natural color the dying gets. The work around for this is a change of shade rather than color.
Among an average group, dark green fluffies tend to experience rejection while light green ones are accepted. This is trickier with brown as it contains more rejected shades.
Even in these successful cases some owners speak of a subtler discomfort perceived in their pets.
And that’s just from pet owners with good intentions. Abusers have all sorts of stories about the type of misery a fluffy experiences when they dye them a bad color intentionally.
Fourth, and the most relevant, the key to getting herds to not be cruel to bad colored fluffies was to convince the smarty to like them.
With enough positive reinforcement, maybe Boris could be pushed in that direction with each new member of his herd and without Blake’s interference. That of course would deal with Custard, but that wasn’t they only type or problem to account for.
Custard would be introduced second. The first hurdle was Comet. His behavior might unsettle the rest of the herd. His innate skill might be taken as a challenge by Boris. For now though, he was a pretty young foal that might raise Boris’s spirits and lessen the reaction to Custard.
Or make it worse, who could say?
Blake reached back and picked up Comet. He set him down in front of Boris.
“Babeh!” Boris reached down and scooped the foal up. “Wub babeh! Bawis am be dadeh soon wittew babeh!” Comet seemed uncomfortable by the hugging. The reaction was much stronger than Blake had expected. He should have though.
Boris had gushed all day about the kids he was going to have. Of course, Nova was egging it on too. Blake really hoped she wouldn’t have any complications. Last thing he needed was for Boris to be depressed about something so grave.
Cedar approached Boris and he handed Comet off to her.
“Babeh hab namesie?” She asked Blake while looking Comet over.
“Comet.” Blake replied.
“Dat am nice namsie. hewwoh Come’. Fwuffie am Cedah.” She hugged him close. “Whewe mummah?”
“Took fohebah sweepies.” Comet replied. Blake expected a double take and did get one from Nova and Boris but Cedar continued unfazed.
“Nu wowwie, Cedah am hewe, can be nyu mummah. Gib huggies, an wub, an miwkies.”
“He’s eating solid food Cedar. No milkies, just keep him safe.”
“Ob cawse.” She said simply. Blake would really have to thank that shelter girl if he saw her again.
“Bwuddah?” Willow said from behind Vern. Vern was also eyeing the foal suspiciously.
“Oh, sissy?” Comet said, looking her direction.
“Mummah am…”
Blake cut in. “Sorry, Willow. She died from some pointie munstahs.” Blake said in a consoling tone. Blake had told Comet to not say anything about the game with Lemon to the other fluffies. He’d agreed, but Blake figured it’d be safer if he told the cover story.
“Gud.” Willow said. “Meanie mummah am…” She looked like she was about to go on a tirade before she looked back at Comet and thought better of it. “Come’ otay? Wiwwow nu wike dummeh mummah bu’ kno she was gud mummah tu bwuddas an’ sistah.”
“Mummah twy hewp babehs. Bu’ mummah am dummeh. It otay. Daddeh Bwake say ‘ou hab new mummah an’ smawtie. Wan wibe wid sissy.”
Amazing, perfectly said and without lying once.
Willow’s eyes lit up. “Dat am gud idea. Come’ su smawt!” She ran over and hugged her brother, he stayed limp in her arms. Blake shot him a look and he begrudgingly returned the affection. “Wan pway?” She asked him excitedly.
“Now now Willow, don’t tire yourself out too quick. We have another fluffy to meet.”
“Oh!?” She said excitedly. “Hoomin hab bwoo bwa-“
“He left with another nice human. She really needed him. I couldn’t say no.” Blake had originally planned on telling her if she asked but… he really didn’t want to spoil her good mood.
“Bwuddah wibe in uddah housie…” She seemed a little crushed. “Bwuddah happeh?” She asked Blake.
“Yeah, he’s gonna grow up strong make his new momma very happy.” Blake wished the story was true. He’d had regrets about Ghoul’s death. He would have loved to reunite the two. He’d have to consider buying her a friend later.
“Den Wiwwow be stwong foh bwoo bwuddah… Did bwoo bwuddah hab namsie?” She asked.
“Ghoul.”
“Gowl…” Willow giggled and repeated the name to herself. Blake looked over to freezer. The pain from his small tack wound flared up and he winced.
With perhaps too much force he spoke. “Okay, this next baby is… Well her tawkie pwace doesn’t work and she’s not very pretty…” Blake said trailing off. All 5 looked concerned. “Be kind. She’s having a hard time. Show her all the love and attention you can.”
Blake grabbed Custard. She bit him immediately. He shoved his finger further in and she gagged it up.
He dropped her lightly on the ground in front of the crowd.
“Oh, dummeh Custawd.” Comet said. He received a pretty hard bop from Cedar. He shot her a glare and rubbed his head. She stared back down at him with a stern expression.
“Nu say dat ‘gain ow get mowe sowwie hoovsies. Be gud babeh.” He looked absolutely furious but he only huffed and turned away. She yanked him by the scruff and he toppled over. The look he gave Cedar was far less defiant after that.
Blake hoped some discipline would move him more in the functioning sociopath direction and less of the fluffy school shooter direction. He wondered what that would even look like.
Custard opened her mouth and tried to talk but nothing came out. She looked incredibly frustrated. Blake wasn’t sure but it looked like she was trying to say the ‘Nyu fwends’ spiel as soon as she saw the rest of the fluffies.
Blake had been so busy watching Custard that he’d failed to notice Boris quickly (relatively) closing the gap. Blake didn’t even have time to react. He felt his heart race. If that little idiot killed a foal in front of the others there’s no telling what it-
“Poe wittew babeh!” Boris said as he hugged her. Once again Blake had forgotten to account for contextual knowledge. Custard wasn’t afraid of these fluffies because she had no idea that they were loyal to Blake. He’d assumed she would because he’d said it to her, but that connection wasn’t being made. That was the only way to explain the fact that she was hugging him back just as hard. She rubbed her face into his chest fluff. (B20 Cu15)
After a moment Boris’s nose flared and he turned his head away retching. “Babeh nu smeww pwettie.” He said.
“Babeh nee’ wickie cweanies?” Cedar asked him. “Gib tu Cedah, can du.”
“Nu, Bawis am smawtie, wiww make babeh pwettie foh hawd.” This was just bizarre. Perhaps Blake had gone a little too heavy on the Disney films. Boris was being downright saccharine.
Boris reached his head down and licked Custard. His face scrunched up with each slurp and Blake watched them both with a baffled expression. True to his word though, Boris kept going.
“The heck Boris?” Blake said without thinking.
“Wat wong daddeh? Daddeh wan cwean babeh tu?” He held her out to Blake. So much for valor, he was trying to pass her off. Then again, Boris was aware that Blake could give them baths with nice scented shampoo.
When Custard noticed Blake she squirmed in Boris’s hooves.
Nova seeming to react to Custard’s discomfort moved in. She winced when the scent of vinegar hit her.
“Speshaw fwen… Babeh nu am smeww wight. Nu wike.” Boris shot her a glare and hugged Custard close.
“Bawis am bestest smawtie weadah! Bawis muss pwotec’ aww hawd wike pwince!” Blake wasn’t sure what to do with that. “Bawis am nu be wike Fwowwoh. Wan’ be bestess dadeh an’ smawtie!” ‘Fwowwoh?’ Oh, Frollo.
Nova seemed taken aback by his enthusiasm at first, but after a moment she came over and started licking the foal. Vern and Cedar joined in and they started taking turns. Blake leaned on the table and watched them work. Even Willow was offering to help.
His little idiots were really pulling together. Custard seemed lost in the attention. She wasn’t even looking in Blake’s direction. Blake had expected her to be a little brat with Vern and Cedar but she didn’t seem to distinguish between them.
Even when Willow approached her for a hug she accepted it. (Cu15)
Perhaps this was for the best. Custard posed no threat to his plans now, and if she could help bring out the best in Boris and the rest of them, all the better.
Comet stayed separate from the spectacle. He looked up to Blake and Blake knelt down to him.
“You’ll get used to it.” Blake said to him.
“Hoomin say wissen tu du-” Blake saw him struggle to cut himself off. “Cedah. Nu wike Cedah bu’ nu wan sowwie hoovsies.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be big enough that she won’t bother you before too long. Just behave.”
“Otay.” Comet looked around at his surroundings. He eyed the open door.
“Vern.” Blake said. Vern broke way from the group.
“Yes daddeh?”
“Show Comet here around the house, let him explore but make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.” Vern looked down to Comet and gave him a big dopey grin. Comet was smiling too but more at Blake. Seemed Blake had read him correctly.
“Otay!” Vern reached down and grabbed Comet by the scruff placing him on his back in a very practiced motion. “Come’ gunna wub new housie! Su many toysies!”
Comet still had a bit of a limp as he wandered toward the door. Blake should have stopped him from trying to carry Comet but he didn’t have the heart to stop him now.
(Not thrilled with how this section turned out. Not because of how the rolls played out or anything, it just wasn’t structured how I’d like. Too many instances of objects being introduced right before their use, and tangents mid action. I rewrote it a few times but it just wouldn’t fit the way I wanted. That and section 1 is a massively different tone from 2.
Ah well, I’m still learning I guess. Was kind of thrown of my course when Boris rolled a 20 on meeting Custard. I’d actually set his tolerance pretty low.)
.
