Fluffy skulls are fragile and delicate, but they’re also sorta spongy on the outside. It’s a safety feature, keeps 'em from bonking kids too hard. As a result, however, people think their bones are soft. Leads to a lot of snapped limbs. No, fluffy bones have a spongy layer, but underneath is bona fide gengineered bone. About a quarter inch deep. Probably a more exact measurement in metric, but I don’t speak Italian or whatever the fuck so I just got steel tacks with shafts about half an inch long. They’ll pierce the spongy outer layer at the base of the skull and embed quite nicely in the bone. I figure six ought to give me enough to resonate fully.
…
"Come on, testing. Hey. Hey!" The creme colored mare jolted awake. “Bwuh? Hubbawha? Hu? Wat? Hab owwies…” She staggered as she rose, still groggy from…what exactly? She couldn’t recall. She’d been…in the park. With Flower and her friends the nice barky munstahs. She’d just given Flower a goodbye huggy when the nice barky monster barked at a hoomin and…
“HEY!”
The voice hurt her. It seemed to come from inside her and it had yelled so loud just now that her hear places got scaredies and made little screechy noises. What’s worse was how dizzy she suddenly got from the noise. It made her see places wiggle and her vision blurred. She felt like she was spinning and tumbling even though she was standing still. She made worstest sicky wawas as she lost her balance and fell down. After a few moments, her dizziness subsided and she peeped a response.
“Huuuuu owwies…hu…hu dewe?” She didn’t even know where to look. The voice was all around but somehow inside? She was so scared she pooped right there on the tile floor of the room she was in.
The room. She hadn’t thought about it before, but she’s never seen this room. She’s inside. She’s almost never inside. Before she can ponder, she’s jogged back to reality. “I am…uh…” Her ears flattened out and her tail tucked in fear. “I am your brain!” She scrunched her face up. “Wat dat?” There was a pause. “Your…thinky…place?” A look of realization filled her face. This was her thinky place?
She’d better listen.
“Oh! Spwinnifew nu knu dat finky pwace made tawkies! Wan be fwends wif Spwinnifew?” She’d never been friends with her thinky place before! She was excited. “No. You need to walk through the door into the next room.” Finally upright, she cocked her head. “Wat? Wai du dat? Howd on-” She was cut off. “NOW!” She made a small peep and a scaredy fart. “Sowwy finky pwace! Spwinnifew jus nu memba ebba not knu wat finky pwace wan befow! Am cunfoozing! Tu da next woom!”
Newly confident, she strode through the dog door into another room. Here there was a plate full of spaghetti, and a steel post with a fluffy tied to it. He cannot reach the spaghetti. Not even close, it’s several feet away from the red square marking his max range and he’s not reaching for it anymore. He’s thin. Too thin. She can see his ribs and the empty look in his eye as she enters. "Hewp…su hu…hungeeeee…num…huuuuuu…" The compassionate mare wasted no time rushing to the sketties to drag them to her new friend. As she started to scoot the plate, the voice returned.
“Eat.” She pressed on. “EAT!” She tried to ignore it. “Eat. Eat them. Sketties. Eat sketties now. The sketties are yours. That’s a bad fluffy. A monster fluffy. He probably gave special hugs to a baby.” As the diatribe continued, she slowed. “W…weawwy?” The starving fluff was confused. "Huh? W…weawwy…weawwy wut?" The voice droned on, now ignoring her. “Eat the sketties they’re yours not the bad fluffy that’s a bad fluffy no sketties for bad fluffies only for good fluffies you’re good eat the sketties bestest nummies now now now NOW EATTHEM EAT THESKETTIESRITENAO NUMMYNUMMYNUMMYNUMMYSKETTIESNAONAONAONAO”
She started panicking. “Screeeee! Nuuuu! Otay! Sketties fow Spwinnifew! Otay!” She started crying and pissing herself as she devoured the spaghetti in front of the bewildered stallion. “Huuuuuu…aww da sketties…nao Bwandon gunna sweep fowebba…” He slumped even more, much to the amazement of all witnesses. The mare paused to apologize through half chewed mouthfuls of lifesaving pasta. “Huuuuu chuuu chowwwwy!”
“Good. Now push the dirty plate over on that red square.” She does so without question. Smelling hope, the stallion shambles over. The plate is just barely close enough. He can lick it, but doing so has the collar pretty tight on his neck. It gives him hurties, but nothing like the tummy hurties he had. “Shit. Make poopies. On the plate.” Again, she questioned.
“Wat? Nu poopies…dat nyu fwend!” No shout this time. Just a low buzz that intensified slowly until her vision blurred and she started getting dizzy again. “Otay! Poopies! On da bad poopy fwuffy!” The stallion was ignoring her, focused solely on maximizing how much licking he does before the collar cuts off blood for too long and he starts passing out. So he was fairly shocked when his meager scraps were supplemented with phlegmy unhealthy shit.
“Huuu sowwy fow poopies bad fwuffy bu ou nee be gud nao otay goobai!” The mare wanted to escape. She hated what she’d done! Why did her thinky place want this? It made no sense. She dashed through the dog door opposite the one she’d entered from. Behind her, Brandon sighed.
“At weast Bwandun hab nummies nao…”
As she stumbled to the next room she was pleased to find a far less grim scene. It was a plump happy mummah and her babbehs! They were singing and cooing and loving! The mare ran to join them. “Hewwo? Hewwo udda fwuffy! Am Spwinnifew! Wan be fwend? Hab gud babbehs? Wub!” The boundless optimism inherent to fluffies propelled her forward as the mummah gently laid her foals down and went to hug her new friend. “Hooway! Am Gumdwop! Hab wotsa babbehs! Dey gud babbehs, tuu!” She nodded excitedly to emphasize how good her babbehs were. There were four and three, and they were all waddling around and hugging and playing. Just learned to walk and talk.
“That’s your babbeh. The blue one.”
The mare froze. She winced reflexively as she ignored the voice. The mummah sensed her trepidation and offered aid. “Nyu fwend? Am otay? Nee hewp?” Sweat was forming. The mare knew what was coming.
“The blue babbeh is your babbeh. Go get him. Now.” She stepped back from the mummah. “Now.” Wordlessly, and with panic in her eye, she turned to the blue colt who was engaged in a tense showdown of pushy faww down with his grey brudda. “Take him. He’s your babbeh. She stole him. Her babbehs are bad. They will hurt your good babbeh. Save your babbeh. Save your good babbeh now.” On and on with this. Constantly. She found it easier and easier to just…do what it said.
She picked up the blue babbeh with her mouth by the scruff of his pudgy babbeh neck. "Hey! Nu wike! Ba’ upsies! Pu’ babbeh down wite nao!" He kicked and thrashed as she spirited him away. “Nu! Nu take bwudda! Mummah! Hewp babbehs! Nyu fwend am babbeh feef! Twyin’ steaw bwudda!” In her clumsy confusion fleeing the scene, she accidentally stepped on the grey one a bit. Nothing life threatening, but…
“SCREEEEE! Weggieeeeeeeeeees!” The poor babbeh had been sitting on his haunches leaving his back weggies splayed out on the ground. Theyd both been crushed by a wayward stomp. The mare felt awful, but she couldn’t apologize without dropping her babbeh! She couldn’t bear to lose him again, especially since she didn’t even remember losing him to that…other fluffy. Who…who wasn’t his mummah.
She’s trotting towards the next doggy door. The mummah gives chase but she’s still pretty round from birthing her foals the other day. She can’t catch up at all. “Nu! Meanie! Nu steaw babbehs! Gif back tu mummah! Meanie dummeh! Hatechu! Huuuu, babbeh gone…” Her still bleeding son grasped her. “Huuuu babbeh onwy gud fow huggies nao. Mummah wan huggies?”
The next room contained five babbehs and a sad pillowed mare half buried in a litterbox behind a mesh fence. “Huuuuu nyu babbehs?” The new mummah was less gregarious, not even saying anything. Just shrugging to acknowledge company had entered, then back to staring longingly at her babbehs. The babbehs, for their part, were in good health. They were happy and freshly fed. Five round brown foals. One burped a tiny bit of milk onto his tummeh. “Teehee! Su much miwkies…babbeh fuww…”
“Gross. Disgusting babies. Not like your good babbeh. Those are bad babbehs. Gross ugly babbehs.” The mare started to dance around nervously. “Huuuu nu dey nawt! Babbehs gud! Nu wike finky pwace say!” Her response was a loud pop that startled her and made her drop the blue babbeh. He landed awkwardly on his front weggies and snout, and he cried profusely.
“Those nummie babbehs upset your good babbeh. Go num them.” She looked horrified. "Nu! Doze babbehs!" No popping now, only silence. The blue babbeh huuued from the floor. “Huuu babbeh faww, hewp! Scawy nu-mummah, sabe babbeh! Nu huwt, babbeh be gud!”
Then it started. Softly at first, but it grew louder and louder. A sound. It made her heart race but she couldn’t-
“Peeeep! Peeeyeeeeep cheep!” Oh no. Hungry babbehs! Where? “Peep! Miwkies! Cheep! Tummeh owwies!” They were everywhere! It was-no. No. No.
“F…finky pwace? Nu make babbeh noisies. Tuu sad fow Spwinnifew, nu wike…” No answer, but one peeping hungry babbeh became ten. Tears streaming down her face, the terrified mare descended upon the happy brown babbehs.
They were much younger than the babbehs from the previous room. Maybe a day or two old. She’d given up fighting, the first one went in her mouth whole. Before he could object, she popped him like a jelly ball. He tasted sweet, like bestest mummah milkies mixed with sketty bawws. She hated how much she liked the taste.
The other four were now very afraid. “Hewp! Munstah!” One who was almost ambulatory slowly waddled over towards his mummah. He couldn’t call out, too busy panting as he exerted everything he had to flee consumption while the horrible monster took her time devouring his siblings.
By the time he reached the chickenmesh fence, he was an only child. His mummah was still in shock, howling and wailing. “NUUUUUUUU! BABBEHS! HUUUUUUHUHUHUUUUUYUUUUHUUU!” For his part, he baffed his little hoofy pads against the meanie plastic separating him from the warm safety of his mummah’s fluff. He was so afraid, so tired. He just wanted to feel home. To feel safe again.
“Mummah! Nu wet babbeh be nummies! Munstah gunna make babbeh in tu miwkies! Nu wan be miwkies, wan get tu be big stwong cowt! Nu faiw! Nu faiw!” As his executioner descended upon him, his last refrain was shouted until his lungs popped between the soft teeth of a crying confused mare.
She fed the shell shocked blue babbeh in front of the now catatonic mother. No mummah songs, just pain and stillness. A soft suckling sound interspersed with the muffled sobbing of the very scared and very sad foal on her teat.
…
“So? What do you think?”
“I think I’m not coming over to your house anymore without a neutral third party to act as witness.”