Good Poopies [by SilverOwl]
A mother fluffy sits inside of a glass display box at a FluffMart. She softly sings to them.
Mummah wuvs babbehs
Babbehs wuv mummah
Babbehs dwink milkies
Babbehs use witta-bawks
Babbehs make gud poopies
Babbehs gud babbehs
Mummah wuvs babbehs
She softly hummed and sang to them as they suckled. Amongst them were a pink unicorn mare, a blue pegasus colt, purple Earthy mare, and a discounted “poopie babbeh”. Fluffies and their foals went through a training program from FluffMart, which made fluffies well mannered, and litter-box trained. You paid a little more at FluffMart, but you wouldn’t have your fluffy shitting everywhere, making it worth the price.
The foals played with one another in their enclosures, and filled the FluffMart with the sound of playful foals laughing and chattering.
Pink Unicorn: Hehehe babbeh am the bestest at huggie tag
Purple Earthy: Nu gonna catch fwuffy. Babbeh am the bestest at wrunnin
Blue Pegasus: Wook mummah am dancie babbeh!
Mummah: Wow babbeh ou am da bestest dancie babbeh eba!
Pink Unicorn: Babbeh makie gud poopies!
Purple Earthy: Babbeh wuv bwockies!
The chatter is observed by a heavyset man with a beard, who stands there motionless watching. His name is Tyler, and he is a practiced fluffy abuser. He watches their behaviors and scrutinizing everything they do and say in his mind. A FluffMart employee Sandra stands next to him waiting for him to make a decision, on which foal he wants. The two stand there for another 30 seconds watching the foals chatter and play, blissfully ignorant they are being watched.
The fluffies are made aware of their presence when the man clears his throat loudly. He is loud enough that the purple Earthy lets out some scardie poopies. The man’s brow immediately furrows and he points to the purple Earthie, “Is this what FluffMart training produces?” The man looked completely put off, to the dismay of the newly hired FluffMart employee, “n…no…sir…they usually do not make bad poopies…” The man interrupts her, “Its fine…I just expected more…What is your solution to this issue? Are you going to sell such defective merchandise?” The FluffMart employee shakes her head no nearly fearful. The man whispers in her ear, I’ll buy both the purple Earthie and the pink unicorn, but I don’t want the Earthie. Sandra looks confused, and whispers back, I thought you also wanted the purple one. Tyler looks annoyed, that she is slow on the uptake. He rolls his eyes, and leans back in whispering,
Ok Sandra this is what I want you to do. Go up to the fluffies, and tell them that the purple one is getting forever sleepies for making a bad poopie. Say ‘You are getting forever sleepies because of your bad poopie. Then tell the pink one she has a new daddy.’ This will ensure the others never make bad poopies. I will also pay you for the euthanasia of the Earthie.
Sandra looks into the man’s cold eyes, and nods, “y…yes sir”. Sandra walks over to the fluffies which she has become somewhat attached to. They run up to the side of the glass.
Purple Earthie: Babbeh wuv ou Sandwa!
Pink Unicorn: Wook Sandwa! Babbeh am dancie babbeh fo ou!
Mummah: Fwuffy wuv Sandwa!
Blue Pegasus: Wook Sandwa babbeh am gud wif bwockies
Sandra says nothing for a few seconds, until Tyler behind her clears his throat loudly. She looks at the purple Earthie foal and hesitates, “Y…you made a bad poopie…” The foal looks sad and stammers, “bb…babbeh wus scardie an so sowwy”. With a tear in her eye, “ssoooo so now you…you have to have forever sleepies” as gasps after choking back tears. The foal starts to shiver in terror, “babbeh nu wan foreba sweepies!” Sandra wipes her eye and looks at the pink unicorn with even more sadness in her eyes, knowing what probably awaits the foal. She tries to force a smile, “You have a new daddy” as tears roll down her face, and she turns to the purple Earthie. Tyler clears his throat again, “Your manager will hear about this if you don’t do as I instructed.” Sandra reluctantly picks up the purple Earthie, as she enters an employees only room. Inside is a large furnace used to get rid of fluffy waste, and dead fluffies. The foal was chattering about not going “foreba sweepies” and telling Sandra that “Babbeh wuv ou! Be dancie babbeh fo ou!”. Taking a look into the foals face, she forces herself to look away, and places it in the incinerator, and presses a green button, reducing the fluffy to a pile of flaming fluff.
Meanwhile, at the fluffy enclosure the foals and their mother cried about the loss of the purple Earthie. The man clears his throat, “So fluffies what happens when we make bad poopies?” In horror the fluffies look up at him and tremble, “bad poopies an an foreba sweepies.” Tyler nods, that’s right! Tyler chuckles and looks at Sandra who is returning from incinerating the foal for bad poopies. He motions for her, “Hey Sandra! Tell you what, I want to buy the whole family, minus the purple Earthie that I trust was dealt with for making a bad poopy.” As he says ‘minus the purple Earthie’ his eyes narrow like he is livid, and furrows his brow, while raising his voice. Sandra gets a crate, and places all of the foals and mother inside. Fluffies are vapid creatures which selfishly are excited about their new “daddeh” nearly forgetting what happened to their sibling moments before. They knew bad poopies meant certain death, and restrained themselves when the “vwroom vwroom munstah” growled at them on the way home.
Stepping into the house, carrying the crate like luggage, Tyler walks into the safe-room. Opening up the create, the fluffies step out and see a wondrously large, and extravagant safe-room, full of toys, and with a large litter-box. The fluffies all smile and blink in disbelief, as the mother looks at daddy, “ff fank ou daddeh…am da wuckiest fwuffy eba!” Tyler laughs, “Well, how about some names for all of you?” Tyler is immediately met with fluffy chatter.
Pink unicorn: Yay babbeh wuv to hab namsie!
Blue pegasus: Babbeh wuv ou daddeh!
Poopy baby: Namsies?
Mummah: No! Poopie babbeh nu hab namsies!
The mother smacks the poopy baby in the face with her hoof, making the foal burst into tears. Tyler laughs at the idea of fluffies abusing other fluffies, and then pretends to care, “Hey don’t hurt him, he’s a good baby!” He points at the pink unicorn, "Lets name you Starburst. The foal immediately celebrates “Yay wuv stawbust!! wuv namesies!” He then points to the pegasus, lets call you Zeus, as the foal celebrates, “yay!! woose!!! wuv namesie daddeh!!” He points at the poopy baby, “Lets name you Cocoa” The foal barely looks up and acknowledges the name, “fank ou daddeh”. Pointing at the mother he assigns her the name “Meghan”. The fluffy immediately starts thanking Tyler, “fank out daddeh! Meggin wuv namesie!” The fluffies played for a few hours, while being very mindful about the litter-box and using it. The litterbox was very high brimmed at a foot off the ground. It had originally been a plastic play tub for children, that Tyler had converted into a large litter-box. Tyler put a ramp on the litter-box that the fluffies climbed up at about 45 degrees.
Tyler enters the safe-room looking happy and says, “ok fluffies! Bath time!”. The fluffies begin to protest about how “wawa is bad fo fwuffies” when they stopped short remembering how severe daddy can be. The fluffies enjoyed a nice smelling bubble bath. Daddy even buffed and polished their hooves, and brushed their manes and tails. Tyler took an extra fine sander to polish Cocoa’s hooves on the bottoms. The foal walked fine on carpet, but walking across the bathroom tile was like ice. The foal stumbled its way out of the bathroom back into the safe-room. That night daddy treated all of the fluffies to sketties and chocolate cake. The fluffies all happily ate their sketties, and happily chattering. They all were stuffed beyond eating more, and were ready for sleep.
That night daddy tucked them into their beds in the safe-room, and told them goodnight, leaving the night-light on. Zeus’s stomach started to growl, and he got up and trotted up the ramp, and made “gud poopies” in the litter-box. Approximately an hour after that both Meghan and Starburst got up to make “gud poopies”. They wouldn’t dare slip up knowing the consequences. Approximately 15 minutes after that Cocoa gets up, as his stomach gurgles. He starts to trot up the ramp, and slides down. The tries again, and gains some distance on the ramp, before sliding back down. He tries again, desperate to make it up the ramp, and make “gud poopies”. Sliding down once again, he begins to cry, “babbeh wan make gud poopies an meanie weggies nu take babbeh to witta-bawk!” The crying wakes the other two foals and mother up, who look annoyed, “shadap poopie babbeh ou get sowwy hoofsies!” Cocoa continues to try and get up the ramp with no luck. He looks around the room and chooses the plant in the corner. He could make poopies there, he thought. He runs over to the plant fairly quickly, with some traction on the carpet. He squats over the plant and lets out a torrent of poopies on the wall over the plant, and on the floor. Proud of his plan to shit in the plant, and congradulating himself thinking, ‘babbeh is smawt babbeh, is smarty!’ Having watched the entire incident on the nanny cam, Tyler chuckles, “Got my first one”.
Entering the safe-room, pretending to look happy, and then suddenly angry, “WHAT IS THAT SMELL!?” Daddy looks around angrily at the shivering fluffies who all knew one of them made a bad poopy. Daddy looks at the four of them with squinted angry eyes, “Which of you was it?”. Not surprising, they all pointed at Cocoa being the poopy babbeh. Without any conversation daddy picks up the foal in front of the other three, crunches it in his hands squeezing it as hard as possible. Bones can be heard cracking as blood drips on the safe-room floor in a puddle, and the twiching foal’s body is squeezed hard by daddy’s hands as its internal organs bursts. Daddy casually drops the foals body into the center of the large litter-box. Then looks happy with the fluffies again, “Well who wants breakfast?!” The fluffies are speechless and don’t respond until Tyler claps, “HEY!” Meghan looks at him and quickly nods “fwuffy sowwy daddeh yesh bwreckies is nice.”
Eating a breakfast of strawberry pancakes and chocolate milk, the fluffies eat and happily chatter. Reaching for his milk, Zeus looks at daddy, “get chocky milkies for Woose?” Tyler stops eating and closes his eyes, as he looks visibly upset. Clearing his throat, “I THOUGHT THEY TAUGHT YOU MANNERS AT FLUFFMART!” All three of them fight the urge to let “scardie poopies” go with daddy’s outbust. Zeus sheepishly tries to apologize, “fwuffy sowwy daddeh nu mean to nu mannars.” Tyler looks even more upset, “You didn’t use your name, you aren’t sorry, you’re a liar!” In the middle of breakfast, daddy has picked up Zeus, and places him flat on the table. Tyler gets up and stands over the foal, “I am going to make you a no leggy fluffy now for lying to me!” Zeus lets out some scardie poopies, “nu wan be nu weggie fwuffy! Nee weggies fo wrun an pway! Am gud dancie babbeh, nee weggies fo dancie!”. Tyler isn’t moved by the foal’s pathetic pleas, and picks up a sharp filleting knife, and quickly slices the foals legs off like chopping vegetables. Blood squirts from the wounds and foal screeches in pain, “SCCCCREEEEEE!!! WORSTEST HURTIES!!! WEGGIES HAB HURTIES!!!” The stump of a foal squirms as daddy covers its wounds in InstantHeal. Zeus gently huhus to himself as he is a “no weggie fwuffy noa…huhuhuhuhuhu”.
Tyler lets the pillowing sink into Zeus, and treats them well for a couple of weeks. He makes sure to play block stacking with Starburst, in front of Zeus. He also plays the fluffy run and play channel all day and evening in the safe-room. Meghan had been picking Zeus by the scruff of his neck to use the litter-box. Daddy sat and watched Meghan pick up Zeus and take him to the litter-box to make “gud poopies” and chuckles, “Meghan! If you ever don’t take Zeus to the litter-box on time, I’ll take Starburst’s see-places!” Hearing this, Meghan picks up her pace and tries to be a good mother. She has a good life, with toys, food, and a nice safe-room. She just has to make sure she and her babies always have “gud poopies”.
Several more weeks pass with Meghan being completely obsessed with Starburst and Zeus always making “gud poopies”. She never wanted to leave the safe-room, for fear one of them would need to go and wouldn’t be able to find a litter-box. No, they had to stay close to the litter-box. Tyler noticed this diligence and grew bored seeing how long the fluffy could keep it up. Giving the fluffies some treats for being “good fluffies!”, Tyler gives them all ice cream and cake. The ice cream is heavy with chocolate fudge, and the cake is a carrot cake with rich cream cheese frosting. Meghan’s cake has a sleeping pill ground up into the frosting. The fluffies eat their fill, and go to bed.
Zeus wakes up with a gurgling stomach, and starts chirping for “mummah” to take him to the “witta-bawks”. Meghan continues to sleep deeply despite the chirping foal. Starburst wakes up and realizes Zeus isn’t being taken to the litter-box and panics, “Mummah pwease!!! Pwease wakie up so Woose make gud poopies!!” Meghan continues to snore as Starbursts runs to Zeus, “Pwease brudda nu make poopies, babbeh need cee-pwaces fo cee!” Zeus’s stomach gurgles as he grints his teeth and squints trying to hold it to make “gud poopies”. Pleading with her brother silently to hold it the two begin to cry. Why wasn’t their mother helping them? Does she not love them anymore? Why won’t she wake up? Just then a few spurts could be heard, followed by a flood of bad poopies in the middle of the safe-room floor. A few hours pass and Meghan wakes up and sees the mess. The room is now rank with the smell of fluffy shit, and the dead body of Cocoa in the litter-box.
Daddy enters the safe-room at first light to find all of the fluffies crying in the corner, and the smell hits him in the face. He furrows his brow quietly staring at the fluffies weep, “WHO DID THIS?!” Zeus had not even moved since his accident and the trail of shit fans perfectly out behind him making it obvious. Zeus begins to cry, “pwease daddeh nu takie sista’s cee pwaces, she nees them fo cee”. Starburst sits in the corner hiding behind her mother who pets her mane. With that, daddy picks up Starburst, and takes a sharpened spoon out of his jean pocket. The foal squirms, “Nu takie cee-pwaces!!! pwease nu takie cee-pwace huhuhuhu!!” The struggling fluffy is powerless to resist her eyes being pried open with one hand, as the other hand supports her. Daddy takes the sharp spoon and quickly SCOOPS out an eye leaving a bloody cavern. The foal screams, SCCCREEE CHIRP!!! HEWP SABE BABBEH MUMMAH!!! SABE BABBEH FROM MUNSTAH DADDEH!!" Meghan looks helpless, “Sowwy babbeh mummah nu can help, munstah daddeh wan takie cee-pwace”. Tyler switches the foal into the other hand, and pries the other eye open and SCOOPS the other eye. The foal again reacts in pain, “SCCCREEEE!!! CEE PWACE ALL DAWK NOA!!! HUHUHUHUHU!!!”
Over the next few days, Meghan is hyper diligent about making sure her “nu cee babbeh” and “nu weggie babbeh” both make “gud poopies”. She begins to try and save time and preemptively be in the litter-box most of the time. Starbursts stumbles around blindly inside the litter-box, tripping over her dead brother Cocoa, piles of fluffy shit, getting shit on her fluff, and running into the walls of the box occasionally. She wanders around most of the time in a rancid smelling gravel pit in darkness. Zeus spends most of his time sitting trying to close his eyes and think about when he had “weggies”. He closed his eyes and imagined running, and playing with his legs. He stacked blocks and was the best at huggie tag in his mind. Then he opened his eyes and the foul stench of the litter-box brought him back to reality and made his eyes tear-up. Meghan also spent most of her time in the litter-box rocking back and forth singing to herself, sometimes holding on to Zeus or Starburst.
Mummah wuv babbehs
Babbehs make gud poopies
Daddeh nu gib hurties fo gud poopies
Mummah wuv poopies
Poopies wuv mummah
Meghan was starting to slip mentally now blurring the lines between good and bad. The babies are gud, but “gud poopies” are better, and the babies make “bad poopies”. These concepts floated around in her deranged fluffy mind. Are babies good or poopies good? Maybe babies are bad for making bad poopies, and the only way for them to be good is with good poopies. Meghan couldn’t think straight and began to see Starbursts which was covered in shit as a “bad poopie babbeh”. Meghan gets a crazed look in her eyes as she “SCREEEES!!” at Starburst, pointing at her with an outstretched hoof, “BAD POOPIE BABBEH!!! FWUFFY GIB FOREBA SWEEPIES!!” Meghan quickly waddles over to the shit covered, blind foal, and begins to stomp on it, leaving bloody and shitty hoof marks on the foal’s pink fluff. Zeus watching this, but powerless, shouts, “NU MUMMAH NU GIB SISTAH FOREBA SWEEPIES!!! NUUU!!!” Zeus lets out some scardie poopies, which diverts Meghan’s attention from the bloody pile that was Starburst. Galloping over to Zeus, she begins stomping the legless foal with her hooves. Zeus gurgles something about “worstest hurties eba!!” as his skull is crushed after a few hoof falls on his head.
Meghan wandered around the litter-box covered in the foals blood, shit, and dust from the litter-box. She sits in the center of the litter-box, and sings her confused song, while rocking back and forth.
Mummah wuv poopies
Poopies wuv mummah
Babbehs am bad make bad poopies
Mummah gib bad babbehs foreba sweepies
Foreba sweepie babbeh nu make bad poopies
Mummah is gud make gud poopies
Mummah num gud poopies
Tyler sat back in his office chair watching the nanny camera footage of Meghan killing her foals, and now cradling a pile of shit and singing to it. He says nothing, while sipping his coffee. Quietly amused with the mare, her action, and her songs. He sips his coffee still listening to the confused song. He decided he would just leave her in there until she had eaten the litter-box clean, including of dead foals.
Nearly 4 weeks pass with the mare spending all of her time in the litter-box. She eats the decaying foals, their shit, and her own as nutrients. Walking around the litter-box and sleeping in it has given her raw sores all over her body. She licks them clean with her tongue after having eaten a bacteria filled meal of deal foal and shit. Her wounds become infected quickly, and the fluffy wanders around the litter-box with a high fever. Her wounds all have turned gangrene and she dies covered in green, black, and yellow crusted sores all over her legs, and backside. The fluffy’s last words were “gud poopies”, as a fly lands on her eye, which doesn’t blink.
Tyler puts the dead mare into a trash bag, and heads to FluffMart for a new fluffy family.