There is something cathartic about Egor’s art style, the fluffies look so pathetic. Anyways, enjoy!
Cold and hunger, were two of the only companions this fluffy had. He curled his rotund body within the curvature of a cheap plastic cup, surrounded by the stinking trash that he relied on for nourishment.
He still remembers the harsh pang of rejection from his mother and siblings. He was a “poopie babbeh”, born with a murky yellow-green coat, and his family hated him for it. His mother never gave him “lickies” or “huggies”, the only reason he was still alive was that he managed to suck milk from her while she was asleep.
Just when he was finally weaned, he was caught by his mother, furious after seeing him steal her “milkies”. After one hard smack from her hoof, he collapsed in pain, sobbing as his family abandoned him and moved on. Now, he spent most of his days foraging for scraps and searching for the “wuv” that he never got to experience.
From time to time, he might encounter a herd of older fluffies, and seek their companionship. Unfortunately, the color of his coating only ensured that he would feel the all-too-familiar sting of rejection from his own kind.
Despite every instinct in his body telling him otherwise, he reluctantly avoided the humans that would pass by him every now and often. He saw how other fluffies would plead to the humans for a warm home and meal, only to receive a swift kick to the face.
He didn’t understand! A biological urge inside the foal told him that humans were meant to cherish fluffies, not hurt them! But reality said otherwise.
Ingrained within the physiology of every fluffy pony is the need for unconditional love and care. Love and care that the foal never experienced for as long as he had been alive.
The foal was in a sorry state of well-being, even for a stray. His already ugly coat was matted with street grime. Malnutrition and unsanitary drinking water bloated his pudgy body with bowl gasses. A couple of his teeth are chipped and coated in plaque. His marshmallow hooves were scraped and bloody, calluses forming from days of waddling on unforgiving concrete.
However, his poor physical health was nothing compared to the constant aching of his lonely heart. Sooner or later, what little survival instinct the foal has will wither and die, for he can only endure the harsh elements and constant isolation for so long.
A strong gust of wind roars through the alleyway, and the plastic cup tumbles with the foal still inside. Whatever comfort the foal had was now gone, with the cup crashing into the wall of a wooden apartment building, and lurching the foal out onto the chilly wet grass.
The foal lifted himself up, now alert enough to see the wind carry away the plastic cup far, far away. He shivered as the wind penetrated his thin fluff and pinched his skin.
With haste, the foal scans the surroundings for shelter, his “see-pwaces” straining to form shapes within the dark. That’s when he saw a hole disfiguring the wooden wall of an apartment building, most likely manifested by gnawing rats.
Escaping the clutches of the freezing wind, the foal found solace within the narrow corridor of the wall. Too hungry to sleep, he waddled throughout his newfound sanctuary, hobbling over dust bunnies, and shaking from the vibrations of the wind punching into the wooden wall.
That’s when he smells it, a soft comforting scent emanating a small distance away from him. It was bread! He recognized it from foraging for “nummies” near bakeries. The foal hastened his pace, his stomach squeezing in anticipation.
It was at that moment that he found another hole, one that would lead him inside the apartment. He barely missed it in the dark environment but his nose managed to catch it. Without thinking, he turned and blindly dashed through the hole, envisioning the sweet, sweet bread!
If he had only been more cautious, he would’ve noticed the strategically placed glue trap in front of the mouse hole he exited. The thick adhesive indiscriminately gripped his front hooves, tripping the foal and causing him to land belly-down, there was no escape now.
Not understanding how or why he stumbled, the foal attempted to lift himself, only to be pulled down by the unrelenting grasp of the ground beneath him. He tried to look around in confusion, only for his head to strain fruitlessly, his jaw rooted alongside his legs and belly.
“Hewp! Fwuffie nu wike meanie-huggies!” The foal panicked, struggling against the tight grip of the sticky paper, rapidly depleting his meager energy.
Panting his breath away and weak from hunger, the foal took notice of the slice of bread, taunting him from a few inches away. Cleverly placed bait to allure hapless vermin into the inescapable grip of the glue trap.
The foal’s stomach twisted in pain, tortured by the irresistible smell of the bread. In one final desperate attempt to alleviate his starvation, the foal burned up every minuscule muscle in his bloated body. Tears squeezed out of his eyes as he put up one last fight against the floor “munstah”.
“Dummeh munstah! Wet fwuffie go!”
The battle was over before it even began. Hampered by a lack of food, the foal unsurprisingly used up whatever traces of stamina he still had inside him. Defeated and exhausted, the foal passed out, fatigue consuming his body.
Not long after, the darkness vanished in a blink. Fluorescent light filled the room, revealed to be someone’s kitchen. Snapping out of his slumber, the foal shot his eyes around in confusion, realizing that there was now a human looming over him.
The foal’s commotion had awoken the homeowner, who was now agitated from having to rise out of bed early. The human picked up the frightened fluffy, their hand underneath the glue-trap. Nice human or meanie human? The foal thought the former.
“Fank yu nice mistah! Hewp fwuffy den gib nummies?” The foal nervously asked the human.
Not even one moment later, the homeowner folded the glue trap with their hand. Startled, the foal lost control of his bowels, unknowingly shitting onto his snout. His spine creaked and his belly stretched, a sharp increasing pain bit into his back.
The homeowner doubled down and squeezed the glue trap further, pushing more shit out of the foal and snapping its cheap plastic spine. The foal could no longer feel his hind legs, huge throbbing daggers were stabbing into his ribs. It hurts so much!
Finally, the human crushed the glue trap with completion, folding it over entirely. Blood poured out of the foal’s mouth and anus, his organs bursting and his rear now touching his head. He could no longer think or breathe, only mustering a small twitch before succumbing to his injuries.
Satisfied, the homeowner crumpled up the glue-trap, mummifying the deceased foal. After disposing of the mess, they unwrapped another glue trap and placed it in front of the same hole. It doesn’t bother them one bit that they have only been catching foals, no rats or mice.
It suits them just fine.