This is a story commissioned by @TG_89 who I would like to thank for their continued support, as it really means a lot.
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Evan winded across the schoolyard after classes were let out, teeth grit together. The ten year old had a disciplinary form clutched in one fist and he knew even if he threw it out, the bitch principal would have called his mom. He didn’t know why he had decided to shove a slice of pizza into stupid Ashley Brannan’s face during lunch. Honestly, he really didn’t know. Who cared anyways? They were all total shitheads and this was unfair.
There was no good reason to go home yet. His mom would start screaming at him and be in hysterics the first moment a foot went through the door, then his stepdad would threaten him like always. Evan know he’d never lay a finger on him because his real dad would beat his ass like a total bitch. The toe of a tennis shoe knocked into an empty Coke can and sent it down the sidewalk as he aimlessly wandered, the aluminum clinking and rolling along. Sudden noise and movement cause a gaggle of fluffies to perk their heads up from their gathering point around a garbage can, one giving a shriek of ‘MUNSTAH!’ and causing his friends to scatter.
“Don’t you dumbasses ever shut up?” The kid pondered. Felt a renewed sense of anger. Recalling what had happened back at lunchtime. It was a familiar emotion. It didn’t feel good, but it didn’t feel bad. Simply a state of being that needed to be acted upon at some point.
Well, the fluffies gave him an idea. Something he liked to do sometimes when things were getting ‘real bad’ on the inside. He saw it like a valve letting out a bunch of steam. The tools for his plan were already safely contained in his backpack next to worksheets that would be done in a half-assed fashion if at all. Giving a dark chuckle to himself, he’d wander down an alley. Not any fluffy would do.
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“Dis am smawties wand naow!” Came the triumphant bellow of a dusty brown colt as he trampled across the alley. Young, just barely about to reach adulthood. There weren’t any other stallions present currently and he was free to do as he pleased, really. Only a few mares tucked away into their cardboard box homes, nursing chirpies and pretending to not know what was going on.
With a huff, the aggressive brown colt poked his head into one of the cardboard boxes. He smelled nummies in here and found a yellow & purple mare protectively gathering her front weggies around a fun-sized bag of chips, head shaking as he gave a sneer.
“Dis nummies am Woach nummies naow!” Snagging the bag around his mouth, the belligerent fluffy tipped his head back and deposited the salty barbecue flavored goodness into his mouth. Sniffling, the mare inside the box watched as her salvation fluttered down to the ground after he’d finished.
“Huu…nuuu…babbehs nee’ miwkies.” She’d lament but what did he care? Those weren’t HIS babbehs and surely she had a nummy finder foraging around for something new. Burping, Roach left her alone to cry in the box as he assumed a position in the center of the alley.
Snapping up in an aggressive manner and flailing his front hooves around in a ritualistic manner, Roach loudly announced: “Otay! Naow smawty nee’ pwetty mawe ‘fo bestest wicky-kissies an’ huggies!” At first there weren’t any takers but the arrival of a new smarty wouldn’t be taken lightly. Eventually a cherry red mare with a blue mane and tail poked her head out from behind a trashcan.
“Swushie am mawe an’ nee’ babbehs.” Well that was enough for Roach. He didn’t exactly think she was the PRETTIEST mare befitting a smarty of his caliber as she had a burger wrapper stuck in her fluff and mud…or maybe poopies around all her legs. Sure hoped it was mud at any rate. Well one thing was for certain: Slushie could give wicky-kisses and huggies. At first she presented herself to him in expectation of getting special huggies but Roach wasn’t of an age to be interested in that. Not yet. Instead he flapped his tongue against her face and gave really snug hugs. It felt special but boy, he was really missing the point of any of this.
Alright, he’d gotten nummies. Made kissies with a mare. What next…? Oh! “Smawty wan moar huggies naow! Yew aw gib huggies!” Standing there looking like a smug bastard he waited for all of the mares to exit their box houses or come out from behind trashcans, filing in around him and pressing in with lots of huggies. Even some of the bigger babbehs were able to hug him. This was an immense feeling of power. Sure any average fluffy could ask for huggies and get them most likely but he had DEMANDED huggies. The difference was huge.
“Otay, naow Smawty Woach am ‘fin biggest nummies for nyu hewd!” Honestly he felt a little bad about stealing the chips from a mummah who had babbehs to feed. Why did he do it? Babbehs needed miwkies. Even he didn’t really know why he’d done such a mean thing. It’s just kind of how he was: Doing bad things then feeling bad about it right after. Well, no matter. He was going to be the bestest nummy finder ever and make up for it!
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Hands still clenched into fists as he walked down the alley, Evan was certain that his target wasn’t going to be this one. Not a brown one. They always already seemed broken and even more pointless than other fluffies. What fun could be had in trashing a toy which was emotionally preowned and in bad condition?
Yet when he got closer to the fluffy he could see that no, this one was not like most brown fluffies. He stood as tall as he could and kept his eyes up instead of focused on the ground, tail held out magnificently behind him. Acting like he owned the place. What a jerkoff.
“Yew gib smawty nummies naow, widdew daddeh!” Roach had once belonged to humans before. A pretty lofty position for any fluffy in this world. He knew the ins and outs of them (or so he thought) and knew the little mummahs and daddehs were way more likely to give up nummies out of pity than adults. Puffing out his cheeks, the colt rapped a hoof against the ground several times. “Naow naow naow!”
Getting closer to the smarty, Evan had a huge smile on his face. Oh perfect. This was going to be a great way to get all of his anger out. Thrusting a hand down, he scooped Roach up and tucked him under one arm. Giving a squawk of ‘bad uppies!’, he settled down in a moment. “I’ll give you some nummies alright. All you can eat. Not here though.”
So began the trip to his special little place. Through the alleyway and skirting along the side of the road until Mackinaw Park was in sight. Nobody went here during the daytime. His mom told him to stay out of it because all people did was come here and use drugs, did he WANT to get AIDS from stepping on a needle? In terms of playground equipment there was a swingset where someone had taken both swings and threw them so that they wound up at the top, a rusty old slide where someone had left a shitty diaper on the bottom, and a graffiti covered merry-go-round that had tilted off it’s axis years ago and was slanted into the earth. At night this place would be crawling with all the wrong sorts but the daytime was his.
“Wewe widdew daddeh takin’ Woach? Nee’ nummies naow ‘fo nyu hewd!” Getting belligerent and uppity again. Well, he’d show him a buffet of options. Picking his way through the park and avoiding the AIDS needles and crackpipes his mom nagged about, the fluffy was brought over to a creek which ran behind the park. A picnic table was set up here, covered in swastikas and the names of people who had fucked one another. Evan cinched his backpack from one shoulder, dumping the contents out onto the table. Roach’s eyes grew greedily huge at the sight of a granola bar. Seizing a pair of broken earbuds from the mess of worksheets and different trash, he’d make the the length would be fine. Should be just right.
The thin cord got wrapped and knotted around Roach’s backlegs, causing the fluffy to squirm around a bit. “Wha? Yew gib nummies naow!” Making sure there was enough slack to allow him to dangle the colt, Evan found himself with a few inches to work with. That was enough. Hauling him off to the creek, the kid squatted down next to the creek and fed what little length he was allotted so that the fluffy found himself upside down. Dunked facefirst into the polluted water which was really more of a semi-liquid sludge than anything. A horrific realization came to Roach as he was being dunked into the water.
This human? He wasn’t like most humans. No, most humans ignored fluffies. They were almost invisible to them. Existing but not. This daddeh was like…HIS daddeh. The much bigger man who had owned Roach before. Dunked screaming down into the water, coughing up the brown stuff before being shoved down again, he was sure of it from the glints in his eyes. A meanie look. It was the same way daddeh looked when he came home smelling funny and threw him against the wall or simply slapped him around for walking into the room. Roach had run away from that place, where his owner had put bolts into his kibble just to laugh at him when he broke a tooth on the hard metal. Run for away when he got the first chance to be away from him. No more having ice water dumped on him when he was sleeping, or being chased around with an electric razor munstah. Most humans ignored fluffies. Some very rarely were nice. This one? He wanted to hurt fluffies. It gave him the biggest happies.
“You need a bath, poopie! Hahaha! But all the water won’t change the color of that ugly fluff, will it!?” Winding the cord back as much as he could, he let the fluffy rock back into the creekbank mud and splat face-first into it. Evan took a handful of his mane and ground him against the muck, the fluffy taking in a mouthful of the stuff and sputtering. Hand transferring to his tail, the kid hauled up back up. Mud dripped down from the fluffy’s face, a few earthworms squirming busily against his fur.
Roach couldn’t forget why he was a smarty in the first place. If you weren’t a smarty, it meant you were weak. If you were weak and helpless, that’s how people like his meanie big daddeh took advantage. If he wanted out of this, he had to show this little daddeh that he was BIG and not SMALL. Grime-streaked cheeks puffing out, he thrashed around and made his demands.
“Yew wet Woach gu wite naow! Gib you wowstest huwties an’ poopies! An ‘gib nummies ‘o Woach wiw be suuuuu madsies!” That’s right! He had to do it. Roach wasn’t the same fluffy back then who could just be pushed around and given huwties. This fluffy was a BIG BOY. Almost. All he had to do was act like it. Loud and mean!
Hefting Roach up, he kept him at arms length so he couldn’t be sprayed with shit if he went down that route. Free hand went searching through the contents on the picnic table, finding a small Tupperware container containing heavy duty tacks. “Keep talking, dickfart.” He knelt down to a tree which had it’s bark cleanly rubbed away, many initials and hearts covering a smooth wood surface. Fitting tacks between his fingers, he choked Roach against the tree and began stabbing the thick metal pins through his ears.
“REEEEEE! NUUHUUHUU! OWWIES!” Oh what a beautiful sound. Just hearing that sound made Evan both angry and happy. A strange mix of emotions that got amped up each time he pounded a tack down into the fluffy’s sensitive flesh. 7 studs went into each ear and effectively pinned his head back against the tree. It’s not like he could get traction to run away, either: Both hind legs were still trussed together with the earbud cable. Tiny trickles of blood snaked down from the colt’s ears, and he gave chuffed breaths. Hiccuping. Obviously trying not to cry.
Evan would get those tears out one way or another.
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“I wasn’t really expecting to do this today, so I don’t have my good stuff. I have to make do with what I have from school.” Well, a bit of improvising. There was some good stuff from school regardless. Case in point? A thick metal ruler. One of those heavy bastards from ‘the good old days’. He’d found it while rooting around in the garage one day, prolly from when his dad was still around. His pop worked construction and….he didn’t want to think about him right now. Fingers curling around the ruler, Evan spun on Roach and cracked him right in the belly. All of the air whooshed out of the fluffy’s lungs, and the kid would start rapidly paddling him with the tool. It wasn’t his first time using the ruler, either. Just the other day he’d rapped Kayla Iverson right across the knuckles with it and made her shriek in pain. He’d ditched the ruler behind a cabinet so they couldn’t confiscate it.
Tears pricked at the corners of Roach’s eyes. He didn’t want to cry. More than anything, he didn’t want the widdew daddeh to see him crying. Big toughie boys didn’t cry. Big daddeh had done far worse to him, so he could keep holding on to being a smarty. “Haechu! Fwuffy haechu! Dummeh! STINKEH DUMMEH!”
Head snapping up, Evan felt old hurts rising up. Not from the fluffy. The fluffy was indistinct and meaningless. Recalling his dad getting angry, always angry. Calling him stupid. A moron. Useless. Throwing beer bottles at the wall or getting so pissed off that he’d go into the kitchen and take the night’s dinner to throw all over the floor. He thrust the ruler longways and shoved in against the soft underside of the fluffy with all of his might.
“Yeah!? Keep talking shit, dumbass! I’m in control! ME! HAHAHA!” Feeling his stomach contents get forced right up, Roach shamefully covered himself in vomit with a loud ‘BLEURGH!’. A stinking mass of chips, an apple core he’d helped himself to, and dirty creekwater. It felt like his insides were being all smooshed up. Is this what he’d run away for? Such a brave, big act. No! NO! It couldn’t be over in such a way! He wouldn’t let big daddeh or widdew daddeh win!
“F-Fwuffy am bigges’ boy. Nu am cawe…nu cawe!” Finding a pluck of courage remaining. Clutching to it because it’s all he had left in this world. Ears flicking up, he defiantly showed the boy how big his cheeks could puff up. Stared him right down. It was a display that could scare the biggest, scariest stallion. Proof of what a big toughie he was going to be!
Delivering stinging blows against the fluffy’s cheek with his ruler, Evan turned back to the table and flung the tool down. Reached down for something new and fun. A geometry compass, something he never used for it’s intended purpose. He liked reaching behind people in class and pricking them with the pointed end then acting like he’d done nothing. A casual act of cruelty to pass the time.
“I don’t like the way you’re looking at me, asshole. Stupid asshole.” Bending down, he spread one of the fluffy’s eyes open. He’d begun shaking with fear by now. The smallest of ‘huuhuus’ escaped his lips. Yet the defiance was there. Not trying to look away but daring Evan.
“Fwuffy HAECHU! Smawty am smawty! Woach am smawty!” Evan got reminded of all the times he’d just been sitting in the living room and his dad had said he’d had a ‘look’ about him. The kid never knew what that look was: He’d just been sitting there. Maybe this was it. Maybe he’d looked just like this fluffy because it was pissing him off. Metal tip of the compass sliding in and notching between bone and the eyeball itself, he’d give the instrument a twist and begin scraping out.
“EEEEEEE!” This was more than what big daddeh had done. Much worse. The pain was extreme and piss puddled out beneath the colt as he had nowhere to go. No chance of even twisting his head away as it was held in a stationary position thanks to the thick tacks.
“PWEASE WIDDEW DADDEH! SMAWTY! AM! SMAWTY!” A desperate attempt to grab onto some kind of pity yet still have his hands on the vaunted title. Hah! What a joke! Evan grinned like a maniac as he carefully pried and scraped at the eye, blood gushing forth with all the action.
“OWWIES! BIGGES’ HUWTIES! HUUHUU NUUU!” Finally tears were dripping down the fluffy’s good eye, Evan getting his prize out by the optical nerve. Oh so gently (for the time being) twisting it so that the fluffy was…well, looking at himself. Crying, covered in mud, looking pathetic despite his blusters. Was that what a toughie looked like? Even though his stomach was empty, it lurched. His think pwace had the wowstest huwties. So many dizzies. What was happening? That couldn’t be him. No, that had to be another fluffy. Some trick. Shit piled down around his ass as he felt many hopes become dashed.
“Look at you! A shitty little baby nobody loves! Say it! Say ‘I’m a poopy little baby nobody loves!’ right now!”
What did he have to lose? Looking at himself and not seeing the brave, big toughie that he saw in his mind’s eye, Roach sniffled. All Evan got in response was a long, stinky fart.
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The optical nerve was severed with a pair of art scissors, Evan clenching down on Roach’s jaw and forcing the eye into his mouth. Kicks began raining down on the fluffy.
“Eat it! Eat it right now!” So Roach did, numming on his own see-pwace. It popped in his mouth and felt horrible, tasted even worse. More tears slipped down from his remaining eye. He couldn’t help it. As far as fluffies went, he’d put in his best fight. Now it felt hopeless.
Dancing over to the pile of stuff on the picnic table, Evan scrounged around for a pack of cigarettes he’d stolen from his stepdad. Along with a lighter. Putting one of the ciggies between his lips, he lit it up and took a drag that caused a spatter of coughs. Roach wrinkled his nose. That smell. It reminded him so much of big daddeh. Big daddeh spent most of his time with that bad air around him.
“It’s not Christmas, but let’s get some chestnuts roasting! On an open fire!” Diving down to the ground but making sure to avoid the pile of shit, Evan flicked the lighter wheel until a flame blossomed forward. Moved the jet of heat against Roach’s spechaw wumps. With his one good eye, Roach looked longingly to Evan.
“Nu wan be smawty! Nu wan be meanie! Nu wan! Omwy wan wub! Wan huggies! Wan be gud fwuffy! PWEE-EASSEEE!” He begged out as the heat lapped against his testicles, the acrid stench of burning fur rising up to the air.
Cigarette jittering against his lips, Evan shook his head fiercely. “Shut the fuck up! You’re just a toy! Fucking burn!” Flesh was beginning to singe and crack against the heat, air smelling even worse by the moment.
“FWUFFY WAN BE GUD BOY! WAN WUB! WAN PWAY! NU WAN HUWTIES! EBBYFING HAE FWUFFY HUUHUUHUU! NU WAN BE SMAWTY!” The flame flickered, thumb moving off of the fuel. It died away, the kid getting closer to the colt.
“What’d you say?” He asked. It was in fluffspeak but it was the same thing he’d often told himself. ‘I want to be good’, only that ever ended in being bad. Doing things for reasons he couldn’t even explain himself. Wanting love. He was sure his mom loved him. Moms were supposed to love their kids. His dad didn’t. His stepdad didn’t. Wanting to play? He did too. Though he didn’t want to admit it, all he wanted was some friends. All he got in life was pain too. Constantly disappointing people then hurting them right back.
“….” He watched the fluffy sitting there, pinned to a tree. He’d seen many smarties beg for their life but not like this. They usually just acted like they were babies, peeping and cheeping while also blabbering about how they were onmw widdew babbehs and he shouldn’t hurt them.
“Fwuffy wub yew.” The colt murmured, forcing himself to look at Evan. He was still horribly scared and in pain. Fluffies really did love humans though. No matter the pain and torment, they loved them the mostest.
“Just shut up!” Rocking a fist forward, Evan punched him right in his empty belly. Once more. Again. Tears were sliding down the kid’s cheeks.
He’d just realized this whole time he was a smarty. A piece of crap human smarty. Acting tough and brash when the world wasn’t going his way. His front hooves weren’t tied up, so Roach reached out with all his might and got Evan’s hand in a hug.
The fluffy wasn’t really a smarty. Just something the world had stepped on, kicked around, chewed up and spit out. It was difficult to admit it. That he wasn’t tough. All he wanted was wub. Evan’s hand tensed up against the hooves cinched against him. Wavered. Relaxed.
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A few months later…
Roach woke up to his most favoritest person in the whole world, lips smacking happily. It was always nice to wake up first because then he got to play a fun game.
“Daddeh! Daddeh! Wakesies daddeh! It am time ‘fo wakesies!” He really was a big boy now. A full fledged stallion! Crawling out from underneath the cozy comforter, he got right on top of his daddeh and began hopping up and down. It didn’t hurt his owner, but it did annoy him sometimes.
“Roooaccchhh, no.” Evan groaned out from underneath the comforter, attempted to pull it back over his face. The fluffy responded by taking it up in his mouth and peeling it back, giving a goofy smile down.
It was hard not to smile back. Roach really was a good fluffy. Like always, he felt a pang of guilt to see the eyepatch strapped over his face. No more of that. No more anger.
Since that time in the park, he’d been working hard to become a better person. To reject who that person had been. Roach was the best help with that. It had taken some time to get his mom to let him keep the fluffy, but she’d finally relented. With one stipulation: That he try harder at school.
Evan had been trying the hardest he could but still received poor grades. Well, Italy wasn’t built in a day. Or however that saying went. In the months they had been together, he hadn’t gone to detention once or been bad. His teachers were so impressed, in fact, they had called his mom not to bitch about him but to say what a turnaround it had been.
“Alright, Roach. Come on.” Evan picked the brown stallion up under one arm and carried him out to the kitchen, setting him down on the floor. It was a Saturday so it’s not like he had to be woken up so early but attempting to explain the calendar to a fluffy was next to impossible. Reaching for the fluffy’s food dish, the sight caused Roach to skip around in circles singing happily.
“Nummies time ‘fo Woach! Dank yew nice daddeh! Bestest daddeh ebah!” Geeze, it was just dry kibble that cost pennies on the dollar. Second cheapest option in Fluffmart, the next cheapest being something horrific that you were supposed to use for punishment.
It’s not like the fluffy cared. Shoving his face down into the kibble, he’d gobble up the food without a care in the world. His owner decided to leave the fluffy to it and go wandering down the hallway to get dressed.
Five minutes later and his phone was ringing. Staring down to the caller ID, Evan rolled his eyes. Just his dad. Again. The last time he’d seen him in person, he’d called him a queer for owning a fluffy. He set the phone to vibrate then tossed it into his sock drawer.
“Wan gu pway?” Roach asked as he rounded the corner into the room. Saw how upset his owner looked, scurried over to wrap his arms against his legs and get in close for a hug. Maybe one day he could forgive his dad for all the things he’d said or done, just like Roach had forgiven him for all the things he’d done. Even though Evan was so young, though, he knew he’d worked for that. Had tried his best to be nice and reject that person he’d been. It’s not like his dad had tried anything but being mean. So screw him.
Nodding, Evan went to his closet and took a soccer ball from within. Speaking of forgiveness, he still didn’t have any friends. Not yet, nobody except for Roach. Maybe over time they would see how hard he’d tried.
As for Roach? The smarty part of him was dead. He never knew exactly why he did what he did, the meanies, but it was never really him to begin with. It had taken a lot of pain and duress to reach the final conclusion, but he’d come to it.
Fluffies were there to help people and give wub. And that’s exactly what he was doing. Finally, after all this time. A place in the world where he was appreciated and able to do what all fluffies were put on this Earth for.
