The first sound he could remember was a klaxon alarm echoing off cinder block walls. Of course, he didn’t know what a klaxon alarm was. He didn’t know what cinder blocks were either. All he knew was that a loud, angry sound was hurting his delicate hearing places. The fluffy, an earthie foal with a navy coat and the barest hits of an orange tail and mane peeped and thrashed around his plastic tube chirping in distress, his scaredy poopies and peepees flowing down the tubes inserted into his poopie and special places.
Squirming against the plastic tube of the foal can, the fluffy found his way to the latex nipple, his only source of enrichment as well as nourishment. He latched, suckling furiously as cheap, bitter formula filled his mouth. The act of feeding brought the foal a small level of comfort, unconsciously kneading the nipple gently as it calmed down. His eyes were still closed, but he still heard the sounds of footsteps approaching, turning his head towards the noise and chirping in panic anew as the metal cell door loudly scraped open. “Welcome to Atwood Correctional, boy. Check the can on the shelf, it’s got your key to a shortened sentence in it.”
A pair of footsteps approached and the soft light behind the fluffies eyes was suddenly blotted out. He cheeped and squealed in distress as his tube was lifted, falling to the bottom against the waste receptacle with a soft thud. A second voice spoke, more gravelly. “A shitrat?”
The words were like a knife to the fluffies heart. He had no idea what the words the two men were exchanging meant, but that sound burned him like flames. He began to cry, large tears soaking his belly fluff as he sobbed, cheeping noisily. The first voice, a deep, gruff older man, spoke again. “Watch your language Al, that little things going to be your only companion for the next 7 years. And you best treat it well. You play along with Warden Jameson’s little program, things will be easier for both you and me. You hurt the fluffy? Three days in solitary. Kill the fluffy? Two weeks in solitary. Forget to feed the fluffy? We can’t legally deny you food but we will give you the nutriloaf. We can’t make you love the fluffy, or even like it. But that fluffies testimony can be the thing standing between you and parole, or even early release. So read the book, keep your fucking head down, and pretend that pony is your favorite thing in the world.”
The door clanged shut, leading the fluffy to once again attempt scaredy poopies, once again they were dutifully collected by the can. Echoing footsteps announced the departure of the first voice. “You gotta be kidding me” The gravelly voice said, voice right next to the can. Suddenly the foal was thrown to the back of the can, with force so great the catheter was ripped from its position. A pain that burned like fire gripped the foal as he jolted to a stop, the foal attempting to scream but lacking the vocal chords necessary to convey his true level of pain
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeePEEP! PEEP! PEEP! PEEP!
“Ain’t no way I’m playing that bitches game.” The voice grumbled again, accompanied by the squeak of bed springs. The fluffy chirped and peeped as it flailed in fright, soaking its belly in urine, unused to being in control of its own bodily fluids. It crawled its way to the latex nipple once again, a task made harder by the can now being at an angle. Its soft, leathery hoofpads slid against the smooth plastic tube, unable to find purchase, but it managed to make its way far enough to latch, greedily sucking down formula.
Feeding complete the foal unlatched with a loud POP, sliding down the tube and resting against the waste receptacle. After a small belch, he curled up in the bottom of its tube and shivered. With nothing else to do, the foal fell into a fitful sleep.
—————————————————————
The foal woke in the night, rubbing crust away from its eyes until it was able to open them. The moon shone brightly through a high window, bathing the surroundings with pale light. From its position on a padded shelf, the foal could see the entirety of the cell. A metal toilet in the corner, with a litter box positioned next to it on the rubberized floor. A small sink with a built in water bowl at the base. Rounding out the room was a cot, occupied by a tall, lanky human wearing a bright orange jumpsuit. His balding head reflected a patch of moonlight on the wall.
The foal began to peep and chirp to get the attention of the human. It had no clue why, but seeing the human filled it with a sense of need, a desire to have this human be its Daddeh, a need for huggies, love, upsies, scratchies. Things it didn’t understand, but important to it for reasons beyond its control.
“Peep! Peeppeepeep! Chirrp! Chiiirp! Chiiiiiiirp!”
“Babbeh? Babbeh nee’ hewp?”
A voice surprised the foal into momentary silence. It was the voice of another fluffy, a female. He couldn’t see the origin, but peeped furiously in response. Perhaps this fluffy could help him reach his daddeh!
“CHEEP! CHIRUP! CHIRUP! PEEP!”
“Daddeh, wakies! Wakies daddeh! Babbeh nee’ hewp!” The foal continued to chirp as sheets rustled and bedsprings creaked in the cell across the hall. “Damn Marissa, baby girl what have I told you about waking me up in the middle of the night!”
“Sowwee Daddeh, buh Mawissa heaw babbeh! Nee’ hewp!”
“Aight don’ worry bout it girl, daddy will take care of this. Cover your ears for me baby.”
Suddenly the voice boomed across the hallways, echoing loudly and causing you and every other fluffy on the cellblock to shriek and cry. “YO D-3764, SHUT YO’ FUCKING FLUFFY UP OR I SWEAR I WILL TURN YOUR ASS INSIDE OUT!”
The tall human in the cell bolted upright from his sleep. “The fuck?” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, looking around in confusion as the whole cell block began to devolve into chaos.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
“SOMEONE GETTING SHANKED OVER THIS MARK MY FUCKING WORDS!”
“ITS THE NEW GUY, FUCKER WONT SHUT HIS CHIRPY UP!”
“IM GOING TO WEAR THAT PUNK LIKE A CONDOM!”
The two night guards descended from their posts, rattling cell bars using their nightsticks. “ALL PRISONERS, SILENCE BOTH YOURSELVES AND YOUR FLUFFIES!” The tall man sighed, his hand raking through the little hair he had left. The foal, seeing the man up and awake, began to chirp again with renewed vigor.
“PEEPEEPEEPEEPEEPEEPEEPEEPEE-!”
“D-3764, Albert Lawson, failing to silence your fluffy during lights out will result in accruing demerits.” The firm voice drew both the man and foals attention to the short, hefty man standing at the cell door. The tall man sighed. “Yeah yeah I’ll shut the fucker up.”
The long arms of the man were easily able to pick the can off the padded shelf, bringing it towards the bed. Even in its can, just being near the tall human it viewed as its Daddeh caused a wave of euphoria greater than anything the foal had experienced before, nuzzling its face against the cold plastic and cooing. “W-…Wub!”
The foals world went dark as it was roughly shoved inside a pillowcase, beginning to chirp in panic. “That work?”
The voice of the short hefty man responded with an annoyed grunt. “Has it stopped chirping?”
“…No.”
“Then obviously fucking not. Just… just sleep with the damn canister up next to your chest, your heartbeat should calm it down.” The foal was uncovered once more. It peeped again in fright, but calmed down as it saw the face of the tall man. His Daddeh.
“Wub!” The foal peeped happily, the tiny beginnings of his little orange tail wagging furiously as his Daddeh lay back down on the bed, canister clutched tightly to his chest. Instantly the cheap plastic container began to warm, the foal cooing quietly as it listened to the man’s heartbeat. Slow, heavy, and rhythmic, the man’s heart lulled the foal into unconsciousness.
——————————————————
The foal awoke, smelling very not pretty. The warmth had been nice, but it had also brought out the full stink of his now uncontained urine. Squirming his way to the front of the tube he found an even worse problem.
Latching onto the latex nipple, he began to suckle. After only a single mouthful, a new sensation greeted his mouth, as he attempted to suck down air. The can was empty. The single mouthful was not enough, the foal beginning to peep and chirp in distress, rousing his Daddeh. “Urrghhhhh…”
The foal heard several popping and cracking noises as his Daddeh sat up, his upright posture causing the foal to slide down against the waste receptacle. “What is it now?” He spent a few minutes looking over the can in the sliver of dawn light peeking through the cell window. “Oh, you’re all out of food.” He set the foal canister on its padded shelf above the footlocker. “Tough shit kid, ain’t got nothing for you.”
The foal continued peeping and chirping in distress. His belly was empty, he smelled of urine, and to top it off he still had a tube in his poopie place, why wasn’t his Daddeh helping him? Suddenly the world was muffled as the tall man placed a pillow on his canister, weighting it down with a large fluffy care guide book. “Deal with it shitrat, we all got problems.”
The bedsprings creaked again as the tall man lay back down. The foal couldn’t hear him however, through the muffling of the of the pillow and the sound of its own frantic cries. It stood on its hind legs, hoofs pressed against the plexiglass. Fetid urine pooled around its legs as it tried whatever possible to get its Daddehs attention, but to no avail. Eventually, it tired itself out and curled up in a shaking, shivering ball in its quickly cooling puddle.
—————————————————————
Sudden brightness exploded behind the foals eyes as the pillow was removed. Chirping in protest the foal tumbled backwards, fall cushioned against the latex nipple. “See? It’s still alive.”
The guard looked at the can, eyebrows furrowing as he eyed the formula meter on the side of the can. “You neglected to feed him didn’t you? Why is he even in the can, you should have him out of it by now.” The foals Daddeh shrugged, the action rocking the can and splashing the foals fluff with cold urine. “No one told me to.” The guard made a note on his clipboard, using his pen to point at the fluffy care book that had weighed down the pillow used to silence the foal. “You neglected to read the book. One demerit for neglect, one demerit for letting your fluffy go hungry, as well as the nutriloaf for lunch. I suggest you skip breakfast and review the handbook.” The door clanged shut.
The foals daddeh grumbled angrily as he turned the can over, the foal tumbling to the bottom with a squeak. The can top crackled as the man unscrewed it, removing the formula and nipple. Fresh air flooded the foals nose, cold and dry. It would have felt like burning had the foal not been filled with wonder and amazement at the power of his daddeh. Suddenly, the foal was falling, and with a painful ripping sensation the waste tube was pulled out. “EEP! EEP! WOWSTEST HUWTIES!”
The fall ended in the sink, the foal quickly regaining its composure and scrambled to get out of the cold metal basin as his Daddeh tossed his can in a small waste receptacle. “CHIRP! COWD! DADDEH! HEWP! PEEP PEEP PEEP!”
His daddeh returned, picking up the weakly struggling foal. Upon feeling his Daddehs hand wrap around him the foal relaxed, curling into the hand and cooing softly. Nuzzling his head around the foal found the tip of his Daddehs thumb. He latched to it, suckling softly. His soft hoofs kneaded his Daddehs palm as his nub of a tail wiggled.
The foals daddeh wrinkled his nose. “You stink of piss.” Reaching to the sink, he turned the faucet on, the sound of running water setting the foal into a panic. “WAWA AM BAD FO’ BABBEH!”
“Shut up, I already got saddled with a shitrat, I ain’t gonna be saddled with a shitrat who reeks of piss!”
Before the goal could respond the foal was under the running water, squealing in pain as frigid water robbed his body of heat. “Damn that’s cold!” The foal was pulled out from the faucet, shivering too hard to even peep. Why was his daddeh doing this to him? Had he been a bad fluffy? Without warning he was back under the faucet, water tepid at this point. The foal peeped in response, appreciative of the warmth.
The foal felt something cold and slimy spill onto his back. Before he could voice his disapproval, the liquid was being massaged into his body. The foal cooed in delight, practically shaking with joy. Physical comfort from another living being, something it should have been entitled to from birth but had been deprived of it for weeks. It savored it, leggies wiggling. His deep navy fur glistened and foamed as he was bathed, his tiny tail whipping up a lather of soap bubbles.
The foals daddeh rinsed him off, wrapping him in a thin microfiber cloth that had been included in his footlocker. The foal giggled and cooed in delight, babbling happily. He was nestled into the padded shelf, his daddeh reaching into the shoe locker to retrieve a bottle and can of formula. Filling the bottle from the still running faucet, he haphazardly mixed the formula in the bottle, shaking it hard.
“Drink.”
The foal looked at the rubber nipple for only a second before latching and sucking, his tiny orange tail waggling. The formula was weak and watery, with not enough powder added for the amount of water. Still, it was food, nourishment, and affection. For a foal who had spent his entire life trapped in a can, it might as well have been nectar from the gods. Still, it took quite a bit of this watery formula for the foal to finally feel full.
Detaching with a pop, the foal tightly gripped his Daddehs fingers, cooing with delight. His daddeh held him while he read the guidebook angrily. “Can’t fucking believe this shit. Six feedings a day? House training starts… so I’ll be dealing with piss and shit for the next month. Fan-fucking-tastic.” The foal didn’t know what his daddeh was saying, but every so often the tall man would say a word that felt like an icy spike going through the foals heart. Finally the foal couldn’t endure it any longer.
“PEEP!” DADDEH! Nu huwt Chiiirup babbeh!”
“The fuck?” The foal thrashed in his hand, beginning to cry. Large tears beaded in the corners of his eyes as he flailed, tiny hoofs flailing. “Nu huwt babbeh! Peep! babbeh churp am fow wub an huggies an miwkies!” The foals sad bleating had attracted an audience for the two. “GASP! meanie munstah gib’ babbeh wowstest heawt huwties!”
A pink mare with a curly blonde mane glared angrily at the duo from the cell door. The foals daddeh glared back, similarly peeved.
“Fuck off shitrat, before I kick your teeth in.”
The mare gasped and ran off screeching. The foals daddeh chuckled, turning his attention back to the guidebook. At least he tried. The sudden BANG on the cell door quickly gained the attention of both man and foal.
Looming in the doorway was an enormous wall of orange. The wall cleared its throat, anger palpable in its voice. Two arms, thick as the foals Daddehs legs, menacingly cracked their knuckles. “You wanna explain what you told Shawnda you would do to her?” The voice was low, rumbling with a bass-like thunder. The voice terrified both man and foal, the latter promptly voiding his bladder and bowels in his Daddehs hand. From behind tree trunk like legs the pink fluffy glares at the man. “Dat am meanie munstah daddeh! Huwt widdwe chirpy babbeh! Den teww Shaw-na dat he gib hew mouthie pwace sowwy hoofsies!”
The behemoth crouched down, his face now visible. “The fresh meat huh? What, was you an abuser before you got locked up?”
“NO! I uh, I just am not-“ The foals daddeh stammered. “Shut yo’ bitch ass up. I don’t care. You gonna have to make some changes. First of which is how you talk to my fluffy.”
The behemoth reached down and lifted his fluffy, who broke briefly from her glare to smile and giggle at her daddeh. “Apologize.”
“Uh- I’m… sorry?” The behemoth snorted. “You heard me. Say ‘Shawnda, I’m sorry for being a poopie headed meanie.’
“Um…. Shawnda im sorry for being a poopie headed meanie?”
“Do it with feeling or I’m claiming prima noctis on yo’ pale ass.”
“Shawnda I am sorry for being a poopie headed meanie!”
“Good enough. Right baby?”
The foal and his daddeh watched the behemoth cradle his fluffy, tickling her stomach. He walked away telling his giggling fluffy about how cute she was back when she was just a foal. The foals daddeh only relaxed once the giant rounded a corner, before turning to look at the sniffling babbeh who had soiled himself in his hand. Now calmed down, the foal cooed and nuzzled into the man’s palm, smearing itself with its own filth.
——————————————————
Albert Lawson glared down at the cheeping and cooing foal in his hand as it nuzzled into its own shit and piss. This little nugget of despair would be his own personal warden and jail or for the next seven years. Reaching up, he placed a thumb on one side of its head and his index on the other. One little squeeze. But he knew he would just be given a new one after a month in solitary.
With a sigh, Albert stood and carried the foal to the sink, rinsing the shit off as he applied more fluffy shampoo to the foal, struggling to maintain a grip on the now frightened and wriggling foal. It would be a long seven years.
*Inspired by this comic by @Love2hatefluffs *