You are Doe, and your life is miserable. You now have two fluffies to terrorize you-- double the licky cleanies and no reprieve from bad enfies. You had hoped that Rocket having a special friend would save you from your torment, but that was wishful thinking. No, instead you have to watch him adore his special friend and their future children – something you can never have – and then turn around and enf you until you can’t walk. It’s gotten to the point where he even uses your poopie place! It hurts to make good poopies now, but you know you have to or daddy will be mad.
Your daddy has a new lady friend and he brings her over sometimes. She’s very nice and always gives you pets. She doesn’t find you ugly, or at least you don’t think she does. Those visits are your little piece of heaven in between the nightmare of your life.
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You are Andrew, and you own fluffies. You originally bought them with the intent on mercilessly torturing them as a way to vent your frustrations about your terrible life. But, watching their interactions has put you more in an observing position-- Rocket terrorizes Doe enough that you don’t have to. Instead, you watch the videos from their safe room cameras like your own little telenovella. It’s a different kind of power you hold, the psychological aspect practically salivating. You simply sit back and enjoy the show.
You’ve recently begun to date a girl. She was a cute brunette from work with dimples and an adorable laugh. She’s become a regular guest for you and the fluffies. The downside? She’s a major hug boxer. Because of this, you’ve had to instruct Rocket and Sugar to be kind to Doe when your girlfriend is around, not wanting to rouse suspicion and scare her away. Rocket was upset at first, but eventually caved when offered skettis whenever she’s over. Sugar was indifferent, not one to antagonize Doe without reason-- she simply wanted a clean ass for her tummy babies. Things were going great, until it came time for Sugar to give birth.
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You are Rocket and you’re torn from a dead sleep by your specials friends cries.
“W-wuh wong!?” you scream, still half asleep and blurry visioned.
“B-BIGGEST POOPIES!!” is all you hear until the first, wet plop is heard followed by frantic peeps. Your babies are coming!! You run to the door and pound against it, “DADDEH!! BABBEHS AM CUMIN!!!” then run back to Sugar to comfort her.
“Ou am bestest mummah! Ou can do it!” you encourage her, watching her beautiful face distort from the pain. Another squelch and continued chirping and then next foal is born.
Your daddy comes just in time, his special friend right behind him. You’re too focused on your own special friend to notice them, nor Doe as she slowly approaches to witness the scene.
Three more goopy bodies join their siblings, filling the room with a chorus of desperate and confused cries. You lick Sugar’s tear stained face, praising her for her good job. Daddy grabs the foals and places them infront of the both of you for you to inspect.
Your heart fills with pride as you glance over your children-- that is, until you see it. A poopie babbeh. You nudge the chocolate brown pegasus with light brown speckles away from the litter with your nose, noting your special friend’s shared disgust.
“What are you doing, Rocket?” your daddy’s special friend asks, confused by the action.
“Dis am bad poopie babbeh! Nu can hab bestest miwkies. Nu nee for num poopies so Wocket gib forevah sweepies!!” Your leggie raises up, reach to crush the offending foals skull in. Before you can deliver the blow, however, your hoof comes into contact with Doe’s back. She’s jumped on top of the foal, protecting it with her body.
“NU!! Nu huwt widdwe babbeh! Am just widdwe babbeh!!” she cries out and you glare down at her with pure hatred.
“MOOB DUMMEH ENFIE MAWE!! DAT AM BAD BABBEH!! WET WOCKET GIB FOWEVEW SWEEPIES OR WOCKET GIB YOU WOWSTEST BAD ENFIES AN FOWEVEW SWEEPIES TOO!!” he screams, his rage making him you forget the others in the room and your daddys rule.
“Excuse me?? What did he just call her?” you hear your daddy’s special friend say, sobering you up to notice your mistake. “U-uh Wocket nu mean dat–” but your excuse is interrupted by the ensuing argument.
“You let him treat her like that?”
“Look i didn’t know–”
“How can you not know? you have cameras everywhere! are you some kind of sick bastard? that’s a living creature!”
“Well technically they’re biotoys–”
“Shut the hell up!”
You watch as your daddy’s special friend leans down and scoops up Doe and the foal.
“We’re leaving! Don’t even try to contact me!”
“Rebecca wait–”
You watch as your daddy runs after the nice lady. You gulp, then turn back to your special friend and babies. Sugar is oblivious to all the drama, solely focused on her new litter.