I walk to the computer and turn the stream off, then take the table with Petal’s remains outside to be dumped in the trash can outside, before folding it up and bringing it back in. I take down the gate put up, and walk over to Laguna, who’s by the corner to the right of the computer set up. I as I squat down next to him, we watch our two new foals nurse on a particularly mutilated milkbag.
The milkbag was missing all of its legs, ears, and was shaved completely, except for a tiny bit of fur in-between her crotch tits and her bottom leg stumps, enough for a chirpy to curl into for warmth to sleep after eating. She was strapped to the wall to sit up right, as well as a feeding receptacle mask strapped and forced down her gullet, with a tube that came out the side of it and that seemed to be connected to a tank of “Mummah’s Hearties: Milkmare Edition,” bought from the closest Fluffmart. The food receptacle also had what looked to be a speaker on the front of the mask. The only real thing the milkmare had was it’s teary eyes, who could still see, and her crotch tits that were engorged with milk, over full and with some purple colorations around the tits, seemingly from not being used very often, despite the enhanced food formula. There was also minor bruising and cuts in random places on her tits and stomach as well.
The only thing she could do was see the foals at her tits, the oppressors infront of her, and even sometimes the carnage of the show. Even though her ears were cut off, she could still hear, albeit with difficulty. Her eyes were always full of tears, dripping down her mask constantly, but unable to do anything except eat the mashed up gruel I’d turn on, and unless she ate, she’d choke and panic, just for it to go down anyways. She knew she had no more choices than just eat when I made her, and try to ignore everything around her. She had long been broken, after causing Laguna his scar. This mare was Jessibell.
“Sup cunt. Did you like the show?” I ask her, who just keeps her eyes pointing down at the foals at her tits. It brings me much joy the fact she’s forced to her hear every show, whether it’s special friends torn apart, babies, or other fluffies maimed and killed.
I then look down at the foals nursing. The green foal is nursing fine, since it didn’t have to move far to get to the nipple that reaked of milkies, as being chirpies, they relied on their smell almost exclusively.
The fun one is the red one. The foal will take a small swig from the nipple, knead with the good foreleg, then when it trys to knead with the destroyed foreleg, it causes immense pain, and causing the baby to spit out the milkies and chirp in pain for a few moments, before trying again and only getting the smallest of sips in-between.
“suckle… yuueck! CHEEP! CHEEP! CHIIIiiirrrp… huff huff,” it’d utter everytime with a jolt of pain, spitting up milkies all down it’s chin, throat, stomach, and even dripping it off Jessibell’s tit.
Me and Laguna were entranced with watching the two feed. We both always were weirdly soothed by watching foals nurse, as well as being amused by the difficulty for the red foal.
“Shud we pway da mummah songie?” Laguna says, looking up at me. I look down and shake my head.
“Nah, that shit creepys me out honestly. And fuck these little shits. Should be greatful to get real milkies in the first place,” I reply, as we continue watching the foals.
Interestingly enough, the green foal seems to be done nursing, a little ealier than a foal usually stops, and starts to crawl in the direction opposite of her brother. Hilariously, it seems she was still so distressed by her brother, that she chose to not eat as much so as to get away from her bully. I’m sure the loud scaredy cheeps aren’t doing her any favors either, as the distressed peeps from the red foal further cementing that whatever the mean thing is, it’s always accompanied by signals of pain and stress.
“Well sense sissy is done, it’s time for you to be done too,” I say to the red chirpy, peeling him off the nipple early too, as well as grabbing up the green chirpy.
“CHEEP! CHRIP! PEEP!” He cried and writhed in my hand, his head still directed to the smell of the delicious milk he didn’t get to even fill his belly, especially no where near as much as his sibling did. He got maybe half the amount of milk that his sister did, with that maybe being a generous estimation. Not enough for a healthy foal’s development, but not enough to kill him tonight. Probably. I then stand up, and make my way to the shed door, while Laguna lingered behind for a moment.
“Weww stupie mawe, it hab been funsie, buh it am time fow us tu gu!” He says to her while turning around, almost like he was including her. “Aw dats wite, Waguna fowgit. Dummeh mawe neba weab,” and with that he bucks her in the mid section, causing her to slightly lurch over in pain, and explaining the injuries. Laguna then runs up to me, so we can walk out the shed together, as I turn the light off and close the door.
As we walk back to the house, we see Rex finally composing himself and standing at the gate by the house. As we walk to the door, Rex sees us and trots over as fast he could, minus the limp from his injuries.
“WAI’! Dose am Wex’s babbehs!” He shouts, as he runs up to us. Laguna puffs up and gets in a defensive position, while I leisurely turn towards him. “Pwease, gib Wex babbehs! Am aww Wex hab weff, huu… Wiww weab an neba cum back 'gain!” He pleads to us. I then look down at him.
“No way, you remember what you did to your special friend? These foal’s are better off with us than a bad fluffy,” I tell him. Rex looks down slowly, before looking back up with more tears in his eyes.
“D-den… Wan die… pwe’ g-gib foweba s-s-sweepies…” He says dejectedly, choking on his words of pain and sorrow.
Laguna gets an offended look on his face and starts walking menacingly towards Rex, before I stick my foot out to stop him. He looks up at me, and I shake my head before talking.
“I got this bud, you take the foals to the safe room, and I’ll handle this. Understand, buddy?” I tell him, with Laguna giving one more stink eye to Rex as I put the foals on his back, and let him in through the door, closing it. I then turn back to Rex.
“Look dude, I’m not gonna do it, I already told you,” I say to him, walking a little closer, kneeling down and beginning to pet his fluff. “You played the game of fate, and this was the result.”
“W-wex nu pway game, wat am fate?” He asks me teary-eyed, before my my hand tightens around his scruff.
“It means you lost the day you were born,” I say lifting him up by his scruff, him shouting bad upsies, as I walk to the gate on the side of my house. I bring Rex up to my face and say, “Now, dont ever come back.” I then wind my arm back with fluffy in hand, and launch him off my property, and into the yard across the street. He crash landed with a small crack coming from his left forehoof, and after a small struggle, got up. He looked backed to the gate, as I slyly wave him away, and limps as fastly down the road as he can. I turn around and go inside my back door to make my way to the saferoom.
The saferoom wasn’t changed very much, but in the corner next to the litterbox was a short doggy gate put up, boxing in a small section of the saferoom off from the rest of it proper. I see Laguna inside the cage, who was easily able to get the latch open, and placing the chirpies in a small fluffpile in the bed inside, next to a small bottle of foal formula. Hilariously, the green foal fought against her “meanie” brother for a few moments before finally settling down. The red foal was chirping in pain all the while, as it desperately tried to secure a fluffpile with its distressed sister, distress he caused by his forced abuse and with his scaredy chirps, as well as in pain in trying to secure a hug with her using his broken arm.
They weren’t the other fluffies in the room. There were four more foals and two adult fluffies right outside the cage. Starting with the adults, was a brown pegasus stallion, with a dark brown mane, and was smaller in stature than Laguna, who walked with a big limp with his left front leg. The other was a nearly bald, nearly pillow unicorn fluffy, with only one back right leg, and sparse tufts of blue fluff on his back. He was missing his left eye and eyelid, leaving only an empty hole, as well as missing half of his right ear, and his tail gone. Both of the stallions were wearing matching collars, as well. This was Dopey and Dumbass, respectively.
The four foals were walkie-talkie babies, able to move easily, and explore and play with impunity. The first foal was A1, and was a deep blue unicorn colt, with a gold mane starting to grow in. The second foal, was his sister, seemingly a twin in color, except she was a pegasus. The next two were not related, and were named B2 and D1. B2 was a evergreen earthie colt, with a tan mane coming in. D1 was a pink earthie filly, with a purple mane, but seemed to have patches of dried poop in her fluff. D1 was off over by the coloring pad, happily scribbling away despite the fact she was covered in shit. A1 and A2 were “playing” with B2. A1 was biting and pulling on B2’s tail, with B2 crying and unable to free himself. I watch A2 walk in front of B2, and then put her ass, which had shit stains on the fluff, in front of B2’s muzzle.
“Huuhuuhuu! Pwe’ hewp Bee-Tuu! Peep!” He cries, while A1 continues snarling and pulling on his tail. “Chirp! Taiw huwties!” A2 then speaks up.
“If dummeh, poopie babbeh gib wickie cweanies, maybe bestest Eh-Tuu teww bwudda tu 'top, heehee,” she sadistically propositions.
“Huuhuu, pwease nu! Nu tase pwetty! Peep! Nu wan, pwe’ jus’ hewp babbeh,” he begs, putting his front hooves up to keep A2’s ass from his face. A2’s disposition sours from a smile to a frown, and then bucks back at B2, hitting him through his hooves and square in his nose.
“SKREEEE! CHIRP! PEEP!” He cries out in pain, with spit and a tiny bit of blood flying out if his mouth and nose.
“Nu! Gib wickie cweanies, NAO!” She demands, as she now shoves her ass right into his nose. B2 tries to move his face, but is unsuccessful, before he then tearfully resigns himself to his fate. Through pained sobs and peeps, he starts to give her wickie cweanies, licking the patches of shit from her posterier fluff. Despite A2’s claim of telling her brother to stop, she makes no effort to do so, her brother still at it and even ripping fluff from B2’s tail, all while she has content look on her face.
“Coo, coo. Dats wite poopie dummeh, get aww da poopies!”
I look over at Dumbass and see him just lazily sleeping on his pillow fluff bed, a litterbox position just right behind him for him to poop into, which is spotless. The bed, on the other hand, was stained and reeked of piss. Unfortunately for him, while these pillow fluff beds come equipped with a tube that connects to either a stallion’s penis or inserted inside a mare’s vagina, I didn’t even set it up, forcing him to just wet his bed whenever he needs to pee. Which I also usually never clean.
I then look over at Dopey, who has limped through the gate and was helping Laguna settle the new chirpies into their own separate enclosure, which keeps the walkie-talkie babies from being able to enter. I walk over to Dumbass after closing the saferoom door, who still hasn’t taken heed of my entering, before turning back to face Dopey so I could call out to him.
“Dopey! Get over here, right now!” I practically growl at him.
Dopey shivers and then sullenly turns to face me, before slowly walking over to me with his head facing the ground. When he gets to me, he sits on his haunches and then carefully looks up at me.
“Y-yus, daddeh? D-Dopey wive tu serb…” He asks me, in a obviously trained way.
I look down and kick dumbass in his ribs, not enough to break any(more) ribs, but enough to hurt, and definitely wake up.
“Eeeek!” He squeaks out, his eyes not even open yet, before he groggily opens them with tears in his eyes. He looks up at me, eyes bloodshot, and asks, “w-wut daddeh wan?”
I point over at D2, and ask, “Why the fuck is she covered in shit?”
Dumbass remains silent, while Dopey looks up and begins to recant what happened.
“D-Dee-Tuu a-an Bee-Tuu wewe pwayin’ wiff a baww tuu-geddew, an d-den Eh-Wun an Eh-Tuu teww babbehs dat Eh-Wun an Eh-Tuu wan da baww, an den Dee-Tuu teww oddew babbehs dat aww babbehs cud pway tuu-geddew, buh oddew babbehs say nu, su den Bee-Tuu teww oddew babbehs dat dewe awe mowe bawws, an tu get wun ob dose, an den da oddew babbeh stiww say nu! Su Eh-Wun gibs sowwy hoofies tu Bee-Tuu, an Eh-Tuu gib sowwy poopies tu Dee-Tuu, den Eh-Wun an Eh-Tuu maek da babbehs num poopies fwom fwoow!” He explains to me frantically, while Dumbass continues to look at the floor.
I look down and bluntly ask, “Why does D2 still have SHIT on HER?,” causing the two fluffies to flinch.
“B-buh d-daddeh, da ba’ babbehs poopie on hew!,” Dumbass cried out to me.
“Why didn’t EITHER one of you clean her off? Dopey, you could have walked over to her and cleaned her off. And Dumbass, just because you can’t walk doesn’t mean you can’t clean her. You could have called her to you so you could help clean her,” I scold both of them. Dumbass looks back down and tries to stifle a sob, while Dopey looks up at me with tears in his eyes.
“Buh-buh daddeh! Poopies nu tase pwetty!,” Dopey cried.
“No buts. You two are supposed to watch all the foals, not hurt them, and keep this saferoom clean! Including the foals in the saferoom!”
“Dopey sowwy, daddeh! Wiww cwean Dee-Tuu!,” he pleads.
“Oh, you will clean her, but you two are still getting punished,” I say as I pull a little remote from my pocket, and both of their eyes begin to widen in fear. Before either one could say anything, I pressed a button on the remote, which was linked to their collars, sending strong currents of electricity through their bodies, them screeching out as I held the button for 5 seconds before releasing. As I did so, Dopey fell to his belly on the ground, while Dumbass seemingly sank lower into his bed, panting and crying. The other foals had momentarily stopped what they were doing to see what the screaming was about.
“Huuhuuhuu, hic,” cried Dumbass, snot and tears running down his face. I look further, and see he actually managed to shit himself, although instead of the usual runny, watery poop, it was like a hard, bigger rabbit turd.
“Huuhuu, huwties aww obew! Dopey sowwy, neba du 'gain, huuhuuhuu,” Dopey meekly said, while crying in unison with Dumbass.
“That’s right, now get your fucking ass over there and do what you were supposed to do, before you two lose your privileges next,” I yell at them, pointing still over at D2, causing Dopey to scramble over to her to clean.
The two fluffies might not know what the word privileges mean, but they know what losing something meant, especially Dumbass, and weren’t keen on losing anything, no matter what it was. As Dopey begins giving D2 wickie cweanies, much to his displeasure and her delight, I start walking over to the previously fighting foals, before squatting down next to them with a smile on my face. I begin petting A1 and A2, causing the pair to start cooing and nuzzling against my pets, before speaking to the three.
“Hey guys, having a good day so far?,” I ask them, knowing full well that B2 was not having a good day.
“Hewwo Mistah, Eh-Tuu am habbin’ gud bwite-time! Peep!,” A2 cheerfully replies.
“Hewwo daddeh–THUMP–OW, mistah,” says A1, accidentally calling me daddeh, causing him to be bopped by his sister to correct him.
“Peep! H-hewwo m-mistah. A-am gud…,” he replies, surprisingly despite his mistreatment by the two mean siblings. His tail is frayed and lightly bleeding, while he has a little bit of poopy still on his mouth.
“That’s great! A1, I’m so proud of you for playing with B2,” I flatter him, as he puffs his chest in pride, fanning his ego and bad behavior. I then look at B2. “B2, good job for giving good cleanies to A2. I know she really needed it, hahaha!” B2 just stares harder at the floor, his head hanging even lower.
“D-d-dank 'ou…,” was all he said.
“Chirp! Wha’ bout Eh-Tuu? Eh-Tuu am gud an pwetty! Betta den dummeh poopie babbeh!,” A2 inquired objectedly. I look down at her and continue giving her chin scratches.
“Yes, yes. You’re way prettier than the poopy baby, good job!,” I say sarcasticly while still smiling at her. She, of course, doesn’t take notice to the sarcasm, and eats up the compliments and scratches, as B2 starts laying down and covering his eyes with his hooves, to hide his tears from showing them falling down his face. “Haha, cheer up B2! You might be an ugly, poopy baby, and you always will be, but at least you’ll be a good litter-pal, right?” My smile lessens, as B2 sits there in silence, instead of answering me back. I then reach down, and pinch B2 on his nape, and hoist him up to my face, much to his extreme discomfort.
“Eeep! Ba’ upsies! Peep! Babbeh scawed! Huuhuuhuu,” B2 cries, and begins to lightly pee himself, while covering his eyes and face with his fore-hooves.
“Look at me, right now… LOOK AT ME!” I shout in B2’s face, bringing him even closer on the second “look at me,” causing him quickly drop his hooves and stare at me wide eyed, trying his best to stifle his sobs.
“YOU WILL ANSWER ME WHENEVER I ASK A QUESTION! NO MATTER WHAT THE QUESTION IS! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!,” I continue to shout at him loudly. B2 begins to shit himself next, but not daring to look away with his red, teary eyes.
“Peep! Y-y-yus, M-m-mista…” He stutters out.
“Now, will you or will you not be a good litter-pal?!” I yell, not as loud as the previous questions, but still enough to frighten and keep the foal’s focus.
“Y-yus, m-mistah… huuhuuhuu!” He cries out to me. I lower I’m down a little, before dropping him in his piss and shit. “Oomph! Huu… nu smeww pwetty…Peep! Nee’ git 'way,” he exclaims, struggling to get to his feet so he can get out of his filth. As he goes to hobble off, I push him back down with my finger into the poopy and pee puddle, and keep him there. “Oof! Huuhuu, babbeh am stuckie in poopies! Peep! Pwe’ wet Bee-Tuu gu! Huuhuuhuu,” he whines and begs, as he flails around in the disgusting slurry, getting more of it on his fluff in the process.
“No! You are to stay there and clean up your mess. I don’t give a fuck how you do it. Eat it, use your fur to scrub it up, it don’t matter. I’m going to give Dumbass his shot, and then me, Laguna, and Dopey are going out. If that fucking mess isn’t gone by the time I’m gone… well let’s just say you’ll wish you were never born,” I tell B2, before releasing him. He doesn’t make an attempt to get out of it this time, and just starts to cry harder over his predicament. I then turn to A1 and A2, and see that even though they were watching, the look of terror on their faces were unmistakable. I snap my finger in front of them, snapping them into reality a bit.
“Hey you two, I need you to help me,” I begin to say to them. “Can you two watch B2, and make sure he cleans his mess while I’m out for a little bit? I’ll give you two a treat if you do!” The two siblings quickly think it over, before looking at eachother and nodding in agreement, and then looking back at me.
“Otay, mistah! Bestest Eh-Tuu an bwudda wiww hewp 'ou,” she replies for the both of them. I give them both a quick head pat.
“Good job!”
I then walk over to Dumbass, pulling open a drawer on the side of his pillow fluff bed. While made for supplies for a pillow fluff, I instead keep a scale, a dirty spoon, some wax paper, a much smaller scooper, a lighter, a syringe, and a bag of some light brown heroin. Dumbass begins happily rocking back and forth, the anticipation of pleasure and release on his mind. I open the bag and begin scooping enough out for a small shot, and begin cooking it up on the spoon. I then load the dope into the syringe, and hold the shot teasingly infront of Dumbass’s face.
“Coo, coo, dank ‘ou daddeh… D-Dumbass hab been waitin’ aww bwite times fow d-dis…” He says sweetly to me, his eyes shut and his mouth etched into a massive grin. I put my hand on his back to lightly pet and stroke it, earning me more coos, before I then lean down to his good ear.
“Why do you think this is for you? I didn’t tell you I was giving you anything,” I speak softly, causing his expression to crack immediately, his lips scrunching up into a sad pout, with his eyes starting to water up.
“B-b-buh daddeh… p-p-pwe’ g-gib feew g-gud medsin… N-n-nee’…,” he pitifully cries as he stares into my eyes.
“Hmm, I don’t know… you’ll have to give me a reason why I’d want to give it to you,” I tease him.
“B-becus daddeh w-wub Dumass…?” He asks, seeking pity.
“No, I don’t. You’re fucking ugly, and no one loves you or wants to be around you,” I tell him matter factly. This causes the tears to really start to flow, as he gets more and more choked up.
“N-n-nu a-am twue! Huuhuu, p-pwe’ d-d-dun say d-dat…”
“It is true. You’re ugly, stupid, you smell like shit, you’re not able to play, let alone do anything. You’re a complete waste of all resources. So tell me, why should I give this shot to you?”
Dumbass is at a loss for words, and becomes reduced to gibbering sobs. I reach over and grab his last leg tightly, causing him to gasp in fear.
“W-w-wut daddeh am d-duin’ wiff weggie?” He asks wearily, as since it’s his last leg, he’s very protective over it, since he knows I could take it away like his other legs.
“Well, if you’re not going to answer me, then I’m going to rip off your last leg! Then you’ll be a real dummy pillow fluff, with no legs at all!” I threaten him. I don’t actually plan on doing it, the psychological torment of threatening to take his last, worthless, back leg and leaving him with no limbs is far more entertaining for me, and stressful and terrifying for him. Right on cue, this illicts a strong reaction from him.
“HUUHUUHUU! PWEASE NU! DUMASS DU ANY FING! HUUHUuhuuuu, jus’ dun taek wastest weggie,” he screams and whines, his cries, as he starts to break down over being reduced to no legs. “Huuhuuhuu! D-Duma-ass nu… n-nu wan be dummeh pilloOoOow, HUUHUUHUU!” My grip tightens on his leg, now starting to cause him pain, while my smile begins to grow into a wide, crooked and sadistic grin. “SKREEEE! HUW-HUWTIES!”
“SAY IT! TELL ME! There is only one thing you’re good for now! And you know exactly what that is,” I continue to shout at him. Dumbass, slowly looks up at me, and begins to lightly shake, and I can tell he’s starting to piss himself from the smell getting stronger from his bed.
“Buuhuuhuu! HicD-Dumass on-onwy gud fow… fow…” He begins to say, choking on the words, before saying, “…fow HUWTIES, HUUHUUHUU!” Dumbass slinks further into his piss filled bed. As much as he doesn’t want to be tortured, the cruel mistress of dope’s voice speaks much louder.
“Hahaha! That’s right, you piece of trash,” I mock him. “Aww, don’t look so glum, I’m not going to give you hurties for the shot. This time.”
I then place the needle at his neck, insert it and inject the dope into Dumbass’s vein. His eyes begin to flicker, as he begins to relax and release the tension of the moment just prior. Piss bed, angry words, pain from wounds, all were slowly becoming distant troubles in the face of the growing warmth and lazy pleasure of the dope. This batch of dope was a much higher quality than what he was usually used to, too. The downside to that, though… is the itching was stronger, too.
“Mmm…mmmf? D-daddeh…? Can… can daddeh gib scwatchies? B-babbeh hab itchies…” He says softly and slowly, and even though he is quite sedated, he keeps twitching in response to the itchiness. I begin to stand up, and smile at him before turning around to walk off.
“You’re not a pillow fluff, right? So use your last leg,” and with that, I walk over to Dopey, who has finally finished cleaning D2. Dumbass breathes a heavy sigh, and begins trying his hardest to itch his body in between nods. As I make it to them, D2, who’s happy to be clean again, thanks Dopey and walks off to continue with the drawing pad.
“Dank 'ou Dopey! Peep! Dee-Tuu feew su pwetty nao!”
“Mhmm, gu hab funsies widdwe Dee-Tuu!” He says, and as she walks off, he turns his head and dry heaves a bit. “Yuueck Nu tase pwetty…”
“Well Dopey, are you ready for your reward for watching the foals today?” I ask him, as even though I punished him for not cleaning the foal right away, I still want to give him an incentive to continue to do so. He looks up at me with a soft smile.
“Yus… Dank 'ou Daddeh…” He replies. His teeth are notably yellow, with one of the front teeth chipped. I then look over at Laguna, and call out to him.
“C’mon bud, let’s go to the shed and hang out for a bit.”
“Otay, daddeh, Waguna comin’,” he says seriously. He pushes the gate to the chirpies closed, and the three of us begin to walk out the door, with Laguna and Dopey going out first. Before I shut the door behind us, I turned to Dumbass.
“Keep watch of the foals, Dumbass. Just kidding, haha,” I said to the barely conscious fluffy, and shut the door.
As we made our way into the shed, we walked over to Jessibell. I turned the light on hanging over her, and her eyes flicker open, revealing them to be blood-red and puffy. Dopey walks up from behind me and sits in front of Jessibell, who stares at him horrified.
“H-hewwo mummah…” he said, meekly. I pressed a button on a remote thats set next to her and immediately the speaker connected to her feed tube cuts on with the sound of a fluffy mother who was recorded.
“PZZT Hewwo bestest babbeh! Am yu weady fow mummahs miwkies?”
“Yus, mummah! Dopey am weady,” he responds to the recording, as if it was his real mother, as he lays down in front of her crotch tits, tail wagging in excitement.
“PZZT Otay, bestest babbeh! Dwink up aww mummah’s miwkies! Mummah wubs babbeh, babbeh wubs mummah, dwink aww da miwkies, gwow big an stwong!”
Dopey latches to one of his mothers teats, qnd begins sucking away happily at his mother’s milk, with the song playing on repeat, and his mother crying all the while over her situation.
For watching the foals I keep in the saferoom, I set Jessibell up as a milkmare mostly for him, and sometimes foals I come across. He was denied and rationed milkies as a babbeh, and forced to eat poopy by his mother, even as a chirpy. This caused Dopey to be a runt, and cause a deep rooted longing for miwkies, as well as his mother’s love. Jessibell, on the other hand, loathes this deal, as not only is she reduced to a mute, pillow fluff, she is forced to feed the foal she hated most even now as an adult fluffy, hate searing from her eyes. Well, second most hated.
While thats going on, I’m editing footage from the saferoom security cam so I can show viewers of our live stream what foals to choose from for the next Babbehs abuse stream. After posting the video, I usually put up a poll with it, and choose the two highest votes foals. As I’m doing this, Laguna walks up to me, and taps my leg, getting my attention.
“Daddeh, can we gu outsidies? Nu wike dummeh piwwow mawe,” he says, still with the same serious expression as before.
“Yeah, bud I’m aaaaalmoooost… Done! Alright, wanna go outside and smoke buddy?” As I ask this, I open a drawer in my desk and pull out a 1 ft steam roller, with a tapered mouth piece, and a bag with roughly an ounce of marijuana.
“Yus, daddeh!” Laguna cracks a small grin as he says this.
“Be right back Dopey, hold down the fort,” I say turning back to face Dopey, who’s continuing to suck away on his mother’s teat, before me and Laguna walk out the shed.
“Sic sic sic”
Outside, I sat on a camping chair, while Laguna sits in a mildly dusty, old dog bed. I pull out the bag of green, open it and take a deep wiff of its sent, taking in deep the aroma of the sweet, sweet terpenes. Inside the bag, were dense, yet gorgeous green buds, with small traces of purple dotting it all over, and thc crystals coating it thick. I break a smaller nug into the deep bowl, filling it up with the sweet sticky-icky. I pull out a lighter, but the mouth piece in my mouth, my hand holding it from the back to close the carb up, and light the weed. I begin to slowly pull the smokey contents into the big pipe, milking it up with a clean, white smoke, before releasing the carb and sucking the whole hit into my lungs, holding it in. I then release the smoke just as slowly as I milked it.
“Cough cough Wooo! That was a good one, phew,” I say as I’m hacking and wiping the tears from my eyes. I look over to Laguna. “You ready for yours?”
“Heww yus, daddeh! Puff, puff pass, heeheehee!” Laguna’s features actually begin softening up, and I begin to milk the pipe up for him. The reason I bought this steam roller with the tapered mouth piece was just so it would be easier for Laguna to wrap his lips around. I then put the mouth piece in front of him and he wraps his lips around it. I look to see if he’s ready, and he nods, so I release the carb while he sucks up as much as he can of the hit. Impressively, while not able to clear the steamroller, he got most of the smoke, which he held for a few seconds before spewing it all out.
“kaff kaff Yack! Dat wud a biggun, daddeh. Teehee,” he said, with drool hanging from his mouth from coughing. We passed the bowl a few times, having some laughs and enjoying the session. After the bowl was killed, our eyes red, and nice and high, Laguna sits begins to look up and stare at the stars. His disposition started to revert back to the serious look too.
“Hey buddy, what’s up? This shit not good enough to get you stoned?” I ask semi-jokingly, a little concerned for my Laguna’s mental.
“Oh… Yus, daddeh. Waguna am feew suuu stonies… Waguna jus finkin’,” he replies.
“What about?” He turns back and faces me.
“Why daddeh wet Eh-Wun an Eh-Tuu act wike smawteh? Hate stupie smarties who fink dey betta den otha fwuffies. Waguna cud… jus’ jumpie on dey dummeh finkie pwaces! Den spwat! Heeheehee,” he asks, jumping up and stomping his front feet down in mock of what he was saying.
“Haha, well as much as that would be hilarious, I actually want the smarties to boost our shows ratings. You know, make more people watch,” I explain.
“Buh… smarties am dummeh, why hoomins wan see dem?”
“That’s exactly why, my friend. People looooove to see those little fuckers get their shit pushed in. It’s called schadenfreude.”
“Ohhh, Otay… Shhaaa… shaaden… shaadefwoo?” He says, trying his hardest to say it and failing.
“Hahahaha! Shaadefwoo… thats good.”
We both laugh at this, before silence once again comes over us. I look back over to Laguna, and grab him and place him in my lap, and begin stroking his back fluff. I look down at him, and he has his eyes closed now, not asleep, but still in deep thought. Ever since that day when Jessibell kicked him, and I killed Sora, he changed. Even outside his training to be my toughie and partner for the show. He’s still my main man, and he follows my orders to the letter, but ever since then, he’s been a little melancholic. Laguna opens his eyes and then looks up at me.
“Can… c-can Waguna hab da feew gud medsin, wike daddeh an Dumass?” He asks me softly. My expression sours, then saddens.
“Buddy… I’m telling you, you don’t want this shit. Why do you want to try it so bad?” I ask him back. The whole point of me smoking weed with the little guy was a substitute for it.
“Dumass say feew gud medsin hewp aww da huwties, eben heawt huwties…” Laguna replies, before laying his head down in my lap.
'Well buddy, the price for something like that is steep. The ‘feel good’ medicine winds up giving you more hurties than fixing your problems, trust me," I explain to him. He looks up at me and cocks his head to the side.
“Den if dey gib huwties… why daddeh taek medsin?” I take a deep breath, and let out a heavy sigh.
“I-I… I didn’t understand until it was too late…” I trail off, before asking him another question. “Do you have heart hurties, buddy?” After I ask this, Laguna just buries his face into my lap instead of answering. He won’t tell me what’s been bothering him, but I’m pretty sure I know what’s wrong. I drop the subject for now, and pick him up and hold him like a baby in one of my arms, which he loves when he’s stoned, earing me a giggle and a “gud upsies” as we make our way back in the shed. We walk over to Dopey and Jessibell, who has finished their “quality time” together, with Dopey turned around facing Laguna and me.
“You all finished up in here?” I ask him as I pick up the remote to the speaker.
“Yus, dank 'ou daddeh fow bestest mummah’s miwkies!” Dopey replies.
“Yeah, yeah, say good bye to ‘mummah,’ and let’s go.” He turns around back to his mother.
“Gud dawkie time mummah! Dank 'ou fow miwkies! Hab gud sweepie time picshurs,” he told her, before giving her cheek a lick. I swear, I saw her shudder in response to that. I press the button on the remote, before setting it next to her again.
“PZZT Guh-byesie! Mummah wubs hew bestest babbeh!”
I shut off the light, and the three of us walk out the shed and back to the saferoom. I let Dopey into the door, he turns around, and before he could tell us goodnight, I slam the door in his face.
“EEEEK! Huu… Dopey jus wan teww daddeh an Waguna dat Dopey wub dem…,” I hear him say, as me and Laguna walk off to our bedroom, with Laguna still craddled in my arm.
We walk into the bedroom, and I set him down in his fluffy bed next to my bed, before I change into my nightime clothes. After that, I walk over to my nightstand and pull out a tray with a few lines cut out, and a rolled up dollar bill with a hair tie wrapped around it to hold it in place. I take two lines quickly into both nostrils, giving them a quick rub down after, and then setting the tray back into the cubby of my nightstand. Lastly, I walk over to Laguna, give him a quick kiss on the top of his head, and climb into bed.
“We have another big day tomorrow, buddy, so get some good rest. Good night.”
“Otay, Waguna wubs yu! Gud dawkie time, daddeh.”
I turn off the light to the bedroom, and as I drift off to sleep, my thoughts are drawn towards Laguna, and his melancholy.