Learned Helplessness (Captain_Emo)

Learned Helplessness

Layla and Mike probably should have known better.

They had an Alicorn named Daisy, and truthfully they did a good job raising her from foalhood to adulthood.

There was nothing that Daisy could want for, they made sure to lavish the attention on the most precious and valuable type of fluffy you could get.

Daisy was also a gift from Mike to Layla.

A birthday gift that cost a pretty penny (Mike spent $400 on her, Daisy wasn’t the most prettiest of colours) and she grew up with all the toys she wanted, food that was right for her.

She led a happy life for a fluffy.

Mike even taught her tricks to try and be more cute like standing on her hind legs to dance or to ask for Huggies and to catch her mummeh’s eye.

Layla loved how cute she looked when she attempted to curtsy. It was always clumsy and she would always fall down. Layla couldn’t help but laugh quietly.

Alicorns and horned fluffies both share the same dexterity, and the horn seems to solve a lot of the balance issues and concentration problems that fluffies are known for.

Despite what you hear about Alicorns, they are still fluffies and are as vulnerable as any other.

They aren’t strong or more durable or intelligent. They’re myths which feed into the price and demand.

They’re just rarer. Kind of like a shiny Pokémon card.

And they’re as brittle as any fluffy you could get.

And it’s that rareness and vulnerability that made Layla not want to have Daisy neutered.

Fluffies cannot be given anaesthetic, in fact they’re often neutered and operated on without it.

That seemed too cruel. And that fluffies can die in such procedures, it was far too risky to put her through it.

In fact, the reason that most fluffy owners give for not wanting their fluffy neutered is their vulnerability during the procedure.

But this also stops them from visiting vets who are state-ordered to neuter them.

Why do that to something that could break so easily and is also so expensive?!

And Layla and Mike, well Mike was, was hoping that an Alicorn Mare would produce more Alicorn Foals.

But that’s never the case.

As he learned when Daisy matured from a filly to a mare.

She was ready to breed. Mike found a willing man who owned a stud who had bred with alicorns before.

The guy allowed it on the assumption that he got a share of the Alicorn foal sales.

And Daisy and the random fluffy had their special Huggies.

Over 4 weeks her milkie place (crotch tits to Mike) developed and grew bigger as she became rounder and then unable to move.

Mike would obsess over the birth and keep a camera with an app downloaded to his phone. He’d keep an eye on her at all times waiting for the day that she would………


Her first litter arrived!

It felt so very quick!!

Those 4 weeks felt really short.

But there were no Alicorns in this litter.

Good coloured foals, 6 in all, but no sign of an Alicorn in that litter.

Mike looked down on the litter. None of them. None of them were that special to him. Surely an alicorn should produce an alicorn foal, at least one, right?

He let out a tut of spite and picked his phone up to let the guy know there was no alicorn in the litter.

Meanwhile Daisy was feeling so happy that she was a Mummeh now. So many good Babbehs for mummeh and Daddeh. So many pretty Babbehs!!

Daisy had picked up each foal and licked them clean of their amniotic fluid.

The first important step in maternal bonding.

And then allowed each foal to suckle on her teeth for their milkies.

Daisy was so proud of her beautiful babbehs.

All beautiful and pretty colours.

She looked at them with so much love and delight, she was a mummeh now with all the pretty Babbehs.

She looked up at her daddeh. Had she been a good fluffy making so many good babbehs?

Her Daddeh gave her a smile and walked away taking on the tawky bawks, the foals were cute and very chirpy after all, but she didn’t know how disappointed her Daddeh really was.

At least her mummeh cooed with delight when she seen the pretty Babbehs.

Layla was beginning to worry about how much it would cost to keep the babbehs. Daisy cost a lot. And treating the foals like Daisy would be more than then could afford. Mike told her to shut up and he was sorting it.

Mike had began to feel more annoyed the more he thought about it. Why the fuck hadn’t the shitrat even gave birth to one?!

Daisy no longer felt like Layla’s fluffy. It was Mike’s investment now. He’d spent a lot of money, why not try and recoup?

If even one alicorn had been born that would’ve allowed them to afford a weekend away, their first in months.

Layla suggested they cut back on what they spent on Daisy……Mike on the other hand began to think if he could buy something to make her more likely to have an alicorn foal……

6 foals would soon become 5. The trainer guy who had the stud fluffy had came back to check on Daisy and her Babbehs.

He wasn’t exactly disappointed himself though. He listened to Mike reveal himself to be the know-nothing rube he thought he’d be. He listened to Mike just whine and complain about no alicorn foals.

The guy was a clear sucker, he knew it, but at least it would be easier to deal with the guy who clearly didn’t know the true value of the foals.

Instead of taking any money, the trained picked up a female newborn with the prettiest colours and would raise it himself as a breeding mare.

Fluffies with good colours are more likely to breed fluffies with good colours as opposed to waiting for an alicorn to be born.

The other foals had good colours sure. But he had more than enough of those kinds. A breeding mare with nice colours was valuable to any trainer or breeder. He almost felt bad, like he was robbing the sap.

This left Layla and Mike 5 more mini mouths to feed.

Mike was kind of hoping the guy would take them all off his hands.

The guy replied back that he was only interested in one foal.

Just the one. And that was it.

And told Mike to deal with it himself, the trainer was beginning to get annoyed with him.

The colours of the foals were still good! The ones that he had left were perfect for a kid or a pet shop!!

But not what would fetch an alicorn price.

The alicorn money would have to wait.

Maybe if they grew up with their mother and weaned off milk they would be more valuable.

Pet shop foals who were freshly weaned off milk are the most expensive you could buy at the store after all.

As Layla and Mike both worked long hours away from home, they were glad Daisy would have company with her foals.

Mike had heard and read that fluffy mares are capable of training and raising their foals themselves.

How else did the freaks cope outdoors?

They were glad Daisy could teach them the litterbox at least. Mike decided he would leave Daisy to raise them herself. It felt like less hassle. Maybe that point he’d have someone who could take them off his hands……

5 foals soon became 4.

An accident happened overnight.

Mike went to check on the foals.

A foal had been crushed by Daisy who had been awoken by the noise Mike had made entering the room.

He didn’t open the door gently, the room was dark, and Daisy had been frightened by the presence in the room with her.

She cried when she seen her poor, bloodied babbeh. It’s body was crushed from her movement and had popped like a blood bubble. It’s tongue hung out of it’s mouth as well as it’s organs.

A popped blood bubble. And as messy as one.

Mike cleaned the place up and gave the Babbeh a burial in the bio-recycling bin.

There was no way he would get any dollars for a crushed shitrat.

And then 4 became 3.

The wingie babbeh, the only wingie babbeh, took a tumble from atop the box of toys.

A damaging fall.

How did he get up there?

Layla suspected he must have climbed up or his Mummeh helped him up.

To help him fly so high.

The last thing she heard the Babbeh say was “wingie Babbeh go fwy!!”

It landed on its nose but broke a few other bones too.

The nose was the fatal injury, it couldn’t breathe in his final moments. The bones had reduced to shards inside its body.

Daisy cried out and cried out that she was a bad Mummeh for babbeh’s hurties. The other Babbehs and Layla hugged her to soothe her.

Mike couldn’t hide his disgust but it didn’t register to Daisy. Daddeh looked scary. Why was Daddeh so scary?

And then ultimately, 3 foals became 1.

And it was Daisy’s fault again.

Sort of.

Mike had heard that there was a way to not make fluffies scared of water.

It would be so helpful. And valuable to teach a fluffy not to be scared. Most of them drown in shallow water from being scared and panicking in the water once they touch it.

Teach the fluffies not to be scared……and that’ll raise their values. Maybe then Mike could finally get rid of them and get some kind of bucks for them. Definitely enough for a date night.

In fact. Why not teach them another skill too?

Daisy often got her rear covered in poopies and neither Layla nor Mike wanted to remove the fur from her rear which would expose her bare ass.

Regular, but shallow immersions (like a small layer of water) and a warm but tepid temperature would allow the fluffy to adjust and become less scared.

Mike successfully tried this and it worked on Daisy. From something that was so frightened by water she learned not to be scared.

And her ass smelt better too because of it.

Cleaning Daisy’s ass was so much easier immersing it into the shallow water.

Daisy loved having a clean ass.

Fluffies hate the slop clinging to their rear after shitting, domestics particularly as they pride themselves on appearance.

Mike kept repeating how good it was to have a clean ass. Good fluffies are clean fluffies. And have to stay clean.

Pretty Babbehs have to be clean too to be good Babbehs.

Mike did the same trick with the foals.

He dipped them in water and dabbed just their rears in. Not the best way to clean them certainly. But Daisy didn’t know better.

Each time he dipped their little asses in, he’d smile and look at Daisy and tell her they were good, clean Babbehs.

Maybe the dumbass could teach the foals this trick too. Not to be scared of the water. And teach her for other Babbehs too……

Daisy had noticed that the Babbehs had very sloppy asses.

They weren’t good Babbehs if they had dirty poopies on their asses.

Daisy wanted them to be good.

They had all made good poopies but the poopies stuck to them.

They had all begged for licky cleanies and Daisy was a good mummeh, she gave them all licky cleanies before……

But Daddeh told her how to make them good poopies……good babbehs with clean Poopie place…….

She hated the taste of poopies!!

No more licky cleanies!!

Daddeh had washed her poopy place in water.

Water isn’t bad for fluffies no more!!

No more licky cleanies!!!

Good babbehs!!!

Daisy’s tray of water had been freshly filled with clean water.

Enough for her to put her mouth in but not enough for the foals to try and drink from. The tray was designed to prevent foals from climbing in.

But it wasn’t exactly “fluffy proof”

Daisy picked up each of the poopie smell Babbehs into her tray of water.

She made a small clap of joy, she was delighted that she could clean the Babbehs like Daddeh!!

Make them good babbehs.

Each foal flailed and panicked in the water.

They begged their mummeh to save them!!

Water is bad for babbehs!! Why was Mummeh a meanie?! Why mummeh no save babbehs?!!

It was by luck that Mike had noticed the flailing in the water tray.

He ran into the room and swatted Daisy to the side. He wasn’t going to lose more money……

He had managed to save one.

The last remaining female.

The two other foals had drowned in that shallow water.

Daisy looked up tearfully.

Why weren’t her babbehs moving? Why had daddeh taken away wastest babbeh?

She cried and she didn’t understand anymore.

The last foal was given to the trainer. Mike dialled him up and said he could have it for free for whatever. Mike accepted he wasn’t getting money from this litter at all.

The Babbeh would be far safer with him.

The trainer came over and took the Babbeh and thanked Mike, the foal would be helpful as a training buddy to teach other fluffies and foals, like a litterbox friend showing them how to do the poopies like the way Daddehs tell them.

Mike began to talk about how he was trying to teach Daisy new tricks to pass onto her foals. The trainer just nodded his head politely but was thinking the guy truly was a fucking idiot. What! You watch a few videos on YouTube and you’re an expert?!

Layla was around too. As far as she was concerned, Daisy was still hers. She had questions she wanted to ask the guy.

Layla asked the trainer about Daisy’s behaviour. Ever since Mike wanted her to have foals, her behaviour had become more reckless and careless.

She had caused the deaths of nearly all of her foals.

Mike wanted to breed her again for another chance of an alicorn. The guy gave him a look as if he had heard it all before.

The trainer reminded Mike he couldn’t breed her safely without her killing her babbehs. It didn’t look like Daisy was aware of any limits.

Layla asked the trainer if he could take Daisy off their hands temporarily to breed her. Mike clearly didn’t know what he was doing but she was too polite to do so. Daisy was valuable and it seemed like Mike kept on forgetting that.

She wasn’t exactly comfortable with Mike wanting to breed her. And it was a constant source of arguments until she gave in.

Mike had sold to her that it would be easy. It was anything but as it turned out.

The trainer turned her down immediately.

Thanks but no thanks. Alicorns are a problem to keep to begin with.

An alicorn amongst his own fluffies would disrupt the harmony and disrupt the training that he had given.

Alicorns frighten most every fluffy.

And a stable training regiment requires balance and for fluffies not to be scared of others.

Fluffies need a structure of learning and a pattern to follow after all.

An alicorn would just disrupt all that hard work.

The guy instead wrote down a name, and a telephone number of someone who could help.

“Mr Morrison”

Layla went home and took a bath, Mike was gaming in the other room and Daisy was nestled in the corner.

She was sad that her babbehs had gone now. She was such a bad mummeh.

Layla finished her bath and looked in.

Mike hadn’t noticed her, neither had Daisy. Daisy had the most depressed look. This was the most sad that Layla had ever seen her.

She had lost all her babbehs.

Layla went into the bedroom and put on her pyjamas and put a treatment in her hair.

She picked out the slip of paper from her trousers. She dialled the number and waited for an answer.

“Hello, am I speaking with Mr Chad Morrison? I’d like to talk to you about my alicorn”

An appointment was arranged and both Mike and Layla took Daisy to see the trainer that the other guy had told her about.

Mr C. Morrison.

He had won awards for training and breeding and had taught other fluffies not to be scared of Alicorns.

A real fluffy whisperer.

Mr Morrison examined Daisy. He checked into her eyes and he looked over her body, patting her fur in some areas.

no bruising or scarring. Doesn’t appear to have ever been disciplined

He observed Daisy and decided to put her in his garage.

The garage contained soft toys that were close by.

And sharp, shiny tools. Dangerous to a fluffy.

He would check if she went near them or had any fear of them.

Daisy stopped playing with the soft toys once she had noticed the shininess in the peripheral of her vision.

Mr Morrison observed how nervous both Mike and Layla became as Daisy got closer to the shiny, polished saw blade.

Daisy was drawn to the polished and sharp tools like a moth to light. They were so pretty!! What interesting toys to-

And with a sharp, strong shout, Mr Morrison shouted at Daisy to stop.

She was startled, she had never been shouted at before. Ever. She felt like she would make poopies right there and right then. She burst into tears instead and cried for huggies.

Mr Morrison stopped Layla from walking over to hug the crying fluffy. He instead walked over and removed the sharp tools. He gave her a few slaps on the rear to which she yelped out.

Layla looked uncomfortable, Mike appeared indifferent. He didn’t exactly want to be there.

Mr Morrison then asked them both a question.

how do you punish your fluffy for wrongdoing or bad behaviour?

Layla turned to Mike and he did to her.


Just as Mr Morrison suspected, neither of them had ever laid a finger on her in anger or as a means of teaching her a lesson or disciplining her.

Daisy displayed no fear in her actions.

Although the saw blade was shiny, the fluffy was completely unaware of its sharpness. Not recognising the danger she was putting herself in.

Nor did the fluffy display any sense of danger or care around the other dangers that were surrounding the blade.

If he wasn’t observing, she’d have easily injured herself horribly.

She was as dumb as a fluffy mill fluffy. No matter what tricks you taught it.

But Mr Morrison knew what to do for Daisy. He had often done it with Pegasi types.

The types that don’t recognise dangers or limits.

”What I’m going to do is teach your fluffy helplessness. Learned Helplessness if you will. Fluffies are fragile but your fluffy has no sense of what is dangerous and what can harm itself or others. That’s why its foals are dead. Your fluffy shows no care in its actions. It has never been disciplined or suffered any hurt. Ever. It doesn’t know pain. At its age it’s going to be tricky but I think I can teach it to be wary and more mindful and careful.”

Layla was concerned, was Mr Morrison going to inflict an injury on Daisy? She didn’t want that at all. Daisy was a valuable fluffy after all. Mike just huffed. He heard enough from this guy. Mike only wanted Daisy not to kill her fucking children. And that was it.

Mr Morrison assured them that this method would not cause any visible injuries.

But they had to trust him.

It would take a few cycles to break her learned programming.

But Mr Morrison could do it

Daisy was left with Mr Morrison. She smiled and looked up and asked if she was her new Daddeh.

He looked down on her with his arms to his hips. In Daisy’s eyes he seemed very big. Imposingly big.

Mr Morrison placed Daisy on a special grid.

The grid was separated by a thin metal plate.

On the other side was a toy.

A dangerous looking toy.

Daisy was immediately curious.

She asked her new Daddeh if she could go to it and play.

He motioned for her to move towards it. She clapped her delight and thanked her new Daddeh for letting her play.

He would observe now.

Daisy looked happy.

A new toy!! Shiny! She loved it already.

She began to move towards the toy.

The grid underneath was giving her hoofsies owies.

Very bad owies!!!

Her hoofsies were so so sore.

But she moved onwards despite being uncomfortable.

And then her hoof touched the thin metal plate.


Daisy screamed and made poopies and jolted back.

Her hoofsies was so hurties!!

She had never been hurt like that ever!

Where did that hurties come from?!

So scary. She cried for her Daddeh to save her from hurties.

Mr Morrison walked over, Daisy held up her sore hoofsie. She really wanted huggies from her Daddeh. Her hoofsie had never had an owie like it.

Mr Morrison instead gave her back leg a few hits with a ruler, this would leave no scarring and was more blunt and far less sharp than a sorry stick.

Daisy had cried out with each slap.

Mr Morrison warned her she would get more bad hurties with sorry stick if she made more bad poopies.

She had never made bad poopies before.

Or she’d never been punished for bad poopies before.

Her ass was so sore from the hurties.

Tears streamed down her face.

Now her ass was covered in poopies. She asked her Daddeh for cleanies.

Mr Morrison washed her. But the water was far more tepid than she was used to. Not cold enough to shiver, but not enough to get comfortable. She was so used to long washes. Mr Morrison soothed and spoke to her that this wash was for big fluffies and not little fluffies.

He had heard from his trainer buddy what the guy who was with the pretty girl had been up to with the alicorn.

Yet another amateur know-it-all but knows-fuck-all shithead. “Breeder?” Sure man……

It would’ve been easier to zap her brain and reset but that only makes a fluffy dumber.

And it wouldn’t learn any sense of danger.

So he had on his hands a deprogramming job now. Thanks to assholes like that. It was time away from his other fluffies, but it could learn from his too.

But it was money too. And it would be handy to have extra, especially if needed.

To hammer home the message, he made her give some of his own poopied fluffies licky cleanies.

Make her forget about the water trick. What a bad idea that was.

She didn’t look delighted but the foals did, giving her Huggies after she was done.

Her tongue had the poopie taste, she really wanted to get rid of the tang of poop.

Mr Morrison told her that’s how all good Babbehs should be cleaned if not by Daddeh.

Only Daddehs give baths, not fluffies.

Daisy looked sad that she had been through these sessions, Mr Morrison gave her head patties.

He said she would need to be a good fluffy for them to stop.

And she would be a good fluffy at the end.

Mr Morrison had devised a way for her to become wary of her surroundings as part of his plan.

Electric shocks against buzzers would be felt by her. She would be zapped if she went too close to danger spots.

She would be wary of heights, places that were sharp, places that Mr. Morrison told her not to go.

She would feel hurties if she learned, and she would feel hurties if she didn’t learn.

But worse hurties. The bad owies.

Bath times would be met with weariness and apprehension. She would be the only fluffy who would have a bath from Daddeh.

She was taught that her wash was only meant for her. She would become aware. Big water bad for Babbehs, only Mummeh should give licky cleanies no matter how poopy.

She observed Mr Morrison letting foals play in (very) shallow water while bathing.

Much, much smaller than her own.

A buzzer close to the side jolted her when she attempted to go near the foals to play but whenever she did she got a shock.

She always jolted back.

“Wan go pway wi Babbehs wan giv cweanues fo Daddeh bu get hewties huhuhuhuhuhuhuhu”

Fluffies vocalise their experience, thinking isn’t exactly something they can do.

She’s beginning to understand.

It took a few more sessions but Mr Morrison was happy with the results.

Daisy had become a far more cautious fluffy.

She was wary of her bath times and did not want to spend long in there.

She favoured only the soft toys she could trust and went nowhere near hurtie toys.

Her movements now were far more predictable. She made no movement when scared and would never attempt to flee (this is a very tricky thing to teach, a lot of fluffies forget to move when scared but have an easily triggered flight response).

She moved to wherever she trusted she couldn’t get hurties. She could still feel the buzzing and the jolts.

Mike didn’t particularly listen when Mr Morrison asked them not to breed her straight away.

He knew the guy who had referred them to him, and he had heard everything Mike had wanted to do and had happened with Daisy.

He knew Mike was thinking of the money. He had fell for the alicorn myth hook, line and sinker.

Fluffies are easier to train than convincing a human anything different once they get dollar scenes in their eyes.

Mr Morrison warned them both not to be suckered. Layla was anxious but she really wanted Daisy to be happy. The training would be helpful in the long run.

Mike kept on his mobile phone.

Mr Morrison warned them that Daisy’s training was intensive and it would be an overwhelming experience for her to get pregnant after her training.

It was far better to wait and consolidate her training when she was at home. It was important for her to bed in and realise that she wouldn’t be hurt all the time and it only happened in places she could see she would get hurt.

Quite simply, Daisy getting pregnant would give her the “babbeh brain” and all her training would go out the window if she wasn’t allowed time to learn on her own.

Mike had never heard such bullshit.

All fluffies are dumb, babbeh brain or not, what’s the difference?!

This time will be the time. This time he would get Alicorn foals from Daisy.

He had been texting another guy who wanted to put out his fluffy stallion for some studding.

Different from the last guy, this guy wasn’t asking many questions.

And within an hour of the final session, Mike let her have special Huggies. She was so happy that Daddeh would let her have more Babbehs and that she was a good fluffy again.

She was so delighted that she had more tummy babbehs.

She would be a good mummeh.

Mr Morrison would never have approved.

And Mike didn’t phone him back after he had left a message asking about Daisy’s progress.

And Daisy was bred again and the cycle began anew.

With the same results.

No alicorn foals.

Mike joked maybe Mr Morrison should’ve taught her how to actually give birth to alicorn foals.

The birth experience was different this time.

Daisy wasn’t happy to see the babbehs like she was last time and she cried once she had given birth.

The hurties could be anywhere to hurt pretty babbehs.

She was prompted to lick them clean to bond with them as quickly as possible.

She did and she spent a lot of time on their rears.

No poopies on Babbehs.

But not enough time.

And then she let them suckle.

Her face carried the look of apprehension and she began to quiver with a shake.

She loved her babies so much she would try and save them from hurties but the hurties were scary and she couldn’t see when they came.

There were 5 foals in the litter this time.

One less than last time but still nice colours.

Daisy carried a worried look.

She looked up at Layla and asked if there were any hurties in the room and if they would hurt babbehs.

Layla had laughed and said of course there wasn’t and she patted Daisy on the head.

She felt somewhat reassured, but not completely.

The hurties came from nowhere and they always hurt.

She didn’t want the hurties to hurt her pretty babbehs.

And over time the Babbehs grew but she refused to let them play, and she cried whenever they were taken to be washed and she stopped the Babbehs from running and playing.

She only allowed huggies and making good poopies.

She always gave them the licky cleanies.

She knew that the hurties would come and Huggies would keep the hurties away.

Daisy would be the best Mummeh to stop the hurties on babbehs.

Daisy had protected the babbehs and watched them all the time and stopped them from being hurt and from wandering off.

She would see the hurties hurt babbehs and then give huggies.

To the point of neuroticism.

They were even given huggies to stop hurties from coming to hurt them.

And given licky cleanies when there were no poopies.

The time came for her Babbehs to be sold and they were sold in one go.

A family and a couple others wanted to take the foals off their hands.

Not alicorn money but the appeal that maybe these could breed an alicorn fetched a goodish price for them.

Daisy screamed and cried for them.

To the point Mike locked her in the room away from the family (who were beginning to waiver from buying the foals).

She didn’t want to let them go.

She knew she couldn’t save them from the hurties anymore if she wasnt there.

She was all alone now and there’d be no one to hug her when they came for her.

She spent the rest of the day in the room crying for her Babbehs, afraid to make a move.


Hey everyone, hope you’re all enjoying Christmas time.

It’s been tough and restrictive on me and my work has been taking up all of my time.

I wanted to put out another original but felt completely zapped and took a break from doing anything.

I’ve done a retouch on an old story I posted to the the Reddit sub a while ago. I haven’t wrote anything in weeks and wanted to get back into the swing of things.

Controversial Alicorn View: I consider them not special and just like any other fluffy, they’re just more rare. I see them the same way I see Pokémon cards, the shiny card can be complete trash stat-wise but people would favour its rareness as opposed to a non-shiny card sigh decent stats.


Damn. Mike is infuriating. Wouldn’t be surprised if he thinks psychology is a hoax or something. Anyway, here’s a lesson for yall - do actual research on things and avoid the mindset of “it’s just ____, what more can there be to it?” Don’t be narrow-minded.


Sometimes, autocorrect gives birth to horrifying imagery.

Jokes aside, I love stories like this. I always find the stories where some guy finds an alicorn and decides to (successfully) breed more despite having no prior knowledge of fluffy breeding, I find this story a much more believable end to that kind of tale.


Honestly, I’m glad you noticed and genuinely didn’t know how that one got past me :-p that would be scary

I can always imagine breeding fluffies at home would always be more trouble than it’s worth, and you’ll have a lot of people who like to think they know what they’re doing and will plough into a disaster regardless


Idiot amateur breeder doesn’t make bank off an alicorn he spent money on

Alicorns are just as stupid and frail as any other fluffy. They just sale for more for the same reason you can slap the label “Supreme” on a red-brick and sell for triple digits

Babbehs die due mummahs naivete rather than arrogance, malice, or wall-bending stupidity

Daisy becomes less stupid, but Mike ruins the learning experience by breeding her again too quickly

Daisy becomes a mess and can’t even enjoy babbehs.

Hot damn. I think you just became my new favorite author. This piece was dope. I really liked the way you brought the banality of actual breeding into the “amateur breeder finds a fluffy” trope and allowed fluffy abuse and suffering to come in a realistic and natural way (the idiot human not listening to the advice he paid for).

This is legitimately great :smiley: