Mercury (By: Jejjick)

Mercury

(A Short Fluffy One-Off by Jejjick)


“Da’eh! Da’eh! Woo’ wuh mewcuwy mae foh yoo!”

God damn it. That fucking voice again, a constant, barely comprehensible din produced from the poor excuse for a saferoom I threw together. I begrudgingly pull myself off the couch and make my way down the hall to see what this little shit wants, if he even remembers it by the time I get there.

Stepping over the fluffy-proof gate installed in the doorway, I look over to find my little bundle of irritation haphazardly attempting to gallop in a circle. Whatever it is that he’s done, he sure seems proud of it. His lack of coordination catches up to him as he stumbles slightly and falls forward, landing with a thud on the extra soft floor. That did it, now comes the most torturous sound ever produced by a living creature. Immediately the clumsy fluffy begins to wail out a cacophonous

“NAAAAAAUUUUUUUU! NAAAAAAUUUUUUU! SU HUW’IES! WAI HUW’ MEWCUWY? HUUUUU HUUUUU”.

Jesus Christ, he’s a dumbass.

This fluffy’s name is Mercury, and I’ve had him since he was a chirpy foal. A lavender Pegasus with a navy blue mane, nice colors all things considered if not for his “issues”. Mercury’s mother rejected him immediately upon the birth of her litter, requiring the constant tending of the sanctuary staff to keep him from dying within his first hour of life. Mercury is “derped”, as fluffy enthusiasts and doctors will often call them. Somehow even stupider than regular fluffies, with both of his deep indigo eyes perpetually looking in different directions. Oh, how I loathe this creature.

He’s flailing on the floor after taking what can barely even be considered a tumble, screaming his lungs out and sobbing like he just had a leg ripped off. I walk a bit closer to try to stop the racket he’s creating, trying to avoid the random toys strewn about the saferoom floor. Normally an owner of a fluffy so severely disabled would expect such incidents, having the endless patience necessary to raise and nurture such a delicate specimen. I am not one such owner.

“HEY! ENOUGH BITCHING OUT OF YOU DUMBASS!”
I shout, causing him to tense up immediately and look over to the source of the scary voice. He immediately starts bawling again, clumsily moving to right himself and sit up on his haunches.

“DA’EHHH! DA’EHHHHH! MEWCUWY HAF BIGGES’ HUW’IES! PWEE HUGGIE, FWUFY NEE DA’EH!”

he begins wailing out, front legs outstretched for “upsies”. Evidently, he already forgot my less than kind words from a mere ten seconds ago, and whether intentionally or not, ignoring my command to cease his bitching. My face scrunches up in disgust at the sight of this display and flagrant disobedience. A so-called “big fwuffy” howling and pleading for “daddeh” to make his hurties go away like a pathetic foal. Disgusting.

I refrain from giving him the upsies he so desperately desires, instead leaning down to his level and smacking him across the head.

“What the fuck did I JUST say?”

I ask, no longer yelling but speaking with a very stern and even tone. For some reason, this gets through to these thick-headed abominations that they need to listen to their human and makes them believe basically anything you say. He takes another “fall” from the hit, prompting him to gear up for some of the same theatrics as before. Oh no, we’re not doing this shit again. I immediately grab his muzzle and hold it shut, lifting him up by it to hold him at eye level with me.

“Another tantrum like that and I’m taking away your ‘leggies’, so fucking shut up and look at me,”

I say as he struggles weakly in my grip.

“I said… Look. At. ME.”

I repeat with a shake. This finally gets him to stop and focus one of his wayward eyes on me.

“Good, so you can focus if you try. Now that just begs the question, what was stopping you from listening to me the first time?”

Gritting my teeth slightly as the words escape my lips, his eyes begin to tear up. I let go of his muzzle to give him a chance to explain himself.

" Da’eh, mewcuwy wub yoo su mushies" is all he can say.

“Not even remotely related to what I ASKED YOU, DICKHEAD!” I give him another slap, this time across the face.

“NAAAAAAUUUU, NAAAAAUUUU!” he begins his ear-splitting cry of terror and pain once again.

Jesus Christ this is getting nowhere. As I stand up to leave the moron to his infantile display, I notice a pool of piss forming under him along with a shit sliding out where he’s once again flailing on the floor. Oh no. Oh no no no. This just became a real problem. Without a word I grab him by the scruff of his neck, eliciting a “screeeeee” and pained complaints of “bah’ uppies!” I shake him again to get his attention and point to where he made his mess. “What the fuck is that Mercury?” I question him, as he slowly shifts his gaze to where I’m pointing, only for his face to change immediately to one of abject dread.

“NAAAUUUU NAAAUUUU DA’EH, MEWCUWY NU MEEN BAH’ POO’IES AN PEE’IES! SU SOWY, MEWCUWY SU SU SOWY!”, the once again flailing fluffy in my hand begins to babble in an apologetic frenzy.

“Doesn’t matter if you meant to do it, Mercury, there’s still SHIT all over the floor of the nice saferoom I so graciously allow you to stay in!”

The emphasis on the “bad wordies” makes him whimper and cover his eyes with his front hooves. I have to wonder what he thinks that’s doing to help.

“What do we do about bad poopies and peepees in this house Mercury?”

a slight smirk forming on my face as I say it. His face drops as he realizes what’s about to befall him, tears beginning to flow anew. To his credit, Mercury doesn’t start wailing again and just says despondently

“Mewcuwy gif fwo’ wickie cweanie, num da bah’ poo’ie fo mae’ woom pwe’y 'gain”.

I’m honestly shocked he remembered the rule this time, though considering his perma-foal level intelligence and basically nonexistent memory, these accidents, and resulting punishment are hardly rare.

“That’s right, but there’s something else for ignoring daddy. Do you remember what it is?”

I coo at him mockingly. His expression turns from sadness to one of horror as he realizes he doesn’t remember, though I can’t blame him since the rule in question doesn’t even exist.

I click my tongue disapprovingly and sigh, as I place Mercury down gently, much to his surprise.

“Wow, we truly have a very BAD fluffy here. Guess Mr. Sorry Whip is doing double duty today for a disobedient and rule forgetting fluffy!”

The mention of Mr. Sorry Whip reduces him to hysterics in an instant.

I make my way towards a shelf far out of his reach, upon which rests the tool of punishment. Amidst sobs he trots over to me attempting to hug my leg as I retrieve it, pleading incoherently for Mr. Sorry Whip to go away. I quickly lash the implement down across his back, producing a shriek from the little fluffy as he cries even harder. Whistling to get his attention again, I point over to where he made his mess and say to him:

“What are you waiting for? The sooner you get to cleaning up your bad poopies, the sooner you can be a good fluffy again.”

He "huu"s slightly and trudges over to begin the awful process. This isn’t the first time he’s done it but it clearly doesn’t get any easier. Mercury chokes and gags on his own shit, intermittently letting out a sniffle or sob as I walk up behind him. He seems too focused on his miserable task to notice me, so I whip the floor sharply to remind him of my presence, as well as just to fuck with him, to which he jumps and lets out a slight amount of new scaredy poops.

“Are you FUCKING kidding me, Mercury? How bad of a fluffy can you be?”

I spit at him, seething with every word. He doesn’t immediately realize what’s happening before I slash him again across the back with the sorry whip, causing more "scree"ing as he notices what he’s done. Tearfully, he starts to say

“Buh’… Da’eh, mewcuwy nu meen tu! Nu wan mae’ nodda messie, awea’y nummin da bah poo’ies!”

That old tired excuse again huh? He just doesn’t learn. That’s another five lashes, which I dish out harshly as he painstakingly begins to work on clearing this new mess he made.

“NAAAUUUU HUU HUUUUUUU! PWEE NU MO’ HUW’IES! MEWCUWY SU SOWY! MEWCUWY WUB DA’EHHHHH!”

Unfortunately for him, his heartfelt pleas for mercy mean very little to me, as I continue doling out his lashes until he is thoroughly battered and blubbering. The bad poopies are passably cleaned up, and considering the ease with which these saferoom floors are cleaned, it won’t be hard to finish up the rest myself. But that will have to come later. I’ve had more than enough fluffy interaction for now, replacing the sorry whip on its shelf as I begin to make for the door.

However something catches my eye, a piece of paper Mercury had evidently been using to draw on. It’s complete fucking nonsense as you would probably expect, but underneath it, Mercury has somehow written out the words “wub dadeh” in semi-legible text. Mercury comes out of his miserable daze and notices me holding his work, and with some difficulty says “da’ foh yoo da’eh. Mewcuwy wan’ed tu sho yoo.” Huh. So that explains what he called out to me about initially, and why he was so proud of himself. This would be astonishing and something to celebrate if I cared even remotely for this little waste of space.

As I stand there pondering everything that has occurred during this whole display, I try to think about why I even have Mercury. It would be incredibly easy to kill him or send him away and be done with it. But no, I don’t want to do that. It may seem pointless, to keep a creature in my home that I hate, let alone one so incredibly needy and difficult to look after. The answer, I’ve come to realize, is that I simply hate this mother fucker for existing so very, very much.

See, I have no problem with the disabled whatsoever. It’s a beautiful thing for people to be able to find fulfilling lives and overcome the challenges levied their way, and I believe it’s something to be celebrated and supported. Key word being “people”.

A disabled fluffy is utterly worthless in every sense of the word. They’re nothing but a money pit that shits all over the place and serves as a source of constant obnoxious background noise. Nothing you do will really make their lives any better. They have no aspirations or challenges they can meaningfully overcome. It’s a complete and utter waste of time. Yet they exist. And that in and of itself is a crime enough for me to dedicate myself to tormenting this little fucker until his bitter end.

I realize I’ve been standing here zoning out, lost in thought in the safe room. A pressure is suddenly felt on my leg, prompting me to look down and see Mercury hugging my leg with all his might. He looks up with his wonky indigo puppy dog eyes and asks

“Da’eh wike pic’tah? Am pwoud uf mewcuwy?”

Oh, sweet, sweet, hopelessly stupid Mercury. Without another word, I tear up the drawing he made before his very eyes, lightly kick him off my leg and leave him among the discarded tatters of his proudest piece of work. As I make my way back to the couch I hear him begin wailing again, but I can’t be bothered to check on him again for a good while. He’ll just have to live with it, as I put on my noise-canceling headphones and tune him out.


Haven’t written anything original like this for a very long time, so my apologies if it sucks lol. Just had the idea for a kind of fucked up sad abuse story centered on a disabled fluffy, and wanted to write it out before I could forget. Also I apologize if there are any typos or weird wording, I’m writing this on very little sleep.

38 Likes

This is great, dumb little fluffy should just do everyone a favour and just choke on a crayon or something. It would be even better if said suicide attempt failed and he became even more derped, but was still self aware, but the great owner just kept him around

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I see that you, like me, have a special kind of hatred for derps and sensitib babbehs.

1 Like

Rather lightly derped, I should say.
Then again, the owner is merely somewhat unkind, by abuser standards. Mercury seems to be at the exact level of “sensitivity” for the less energetically aggressive sort.

2 Likes

Hahahahahaha I love the dude being all “it has no challenges it can overcome or aspirations to achieve” immediately after finding a piece of art it clearly aspired to overcome challenges and create. This stupid fucking pighorse can’t win for losing. There’s just no right answer lmao.

5 Likes