Chapter 18 Showoff
“Wook, mummah! Am dancie babbeh!” Sol declared, on his rear, shaking his little hooves all about. He…actually had the barest hint of rhythm. His front hooves were synchronized, at the very last.
Erin clapped her hands. “Very good, Sol.” She said. “You’re a good dancer.”
Sol nodded proudly. “Am bestest fwuffy!” He said.
It was like a record scratch went off in Erin’s head. She heard Verdant gasp, likely remembering how Turner nearly turned out before correction. Oh no. Erin was not gonna have a smarty on her hands. “No foal is bestest, Sol.” She told him, hoping it was just a bad phrasing. “You’re good at dancing, but that doesn’t make you bestest.
“Buh…am awicorn. Dat mean bestest.”
Damn. So he knew damn well what he was saying. “And where did you hear that?” Erin asked, her tone a tad colder.
“Fwuffteebee says so!” Sol puffed up his cheeks.
Erin sighed. She was so done with that damn channel… She’d reviewed the show before deciding to tape it for her fluffies, but it looked like they had swapped out slots without telling anyone. She’d thought that was just a rumor. “Well, the TV is wrong. Don’t you remember cartoons? Like how things happen that aren’t real? Saying a foal is ‘bestest’ is like that.” She saw by the stubborn expression on her foal’s face, that it didn’t get through.
“SOW AM SPESHUL!” He screamed, throwing himself on his belly, his nubby legs flailing. “SCREEEEEEEE!”
So it came to this. Erin grabbed the Sorry Stick Jr. She could not let this pass without punishment. She gave him a few whacks on the rear, but she had an idea. After cleaning up Sol’s snotty, damp face, she picked him up. “Sol. Being a bestest isn’t good. And I’m going to show you why.” She said. They went to the living room. Erin got a towel, laying it over her, then the fluffies. She anticipated them doing scaredy poopies. She loaded up FluffTube, and went to the abuse section. She looked up ‘Bestest Babbeh Punishment’ and clicked on it. “Sol. Watch. This is what happens to bestest babbehs.” She told him.
It was horrific, even for Erin. She wasn’t a bleeding heart hugboxer, but she loved Verdant. She loved the four foals she’d raised and adopted, minus the sad incident with Turner. She loved Sol too. But she was NOT going to raise a brat. Sometimes shock therapy was the best thing for fluffies.
The video showed a bit of the foal’s bratty attitudes, then them being killed in horrific ways. Pillowing then disemboweling, eaten by a lizard, mauled by a chihuahua, beaten by a cat with claw caps, burned by a lighter. One of the more horrific ones was sodomized to death by a wooden rod. She felt her fluffies both trembling, the towel dirtied as the two emptied their bowels in fear. She made Sol watch, though. When he tried to hide, she paused the video. “Sol. You need to watch. This is what happens when foals start to think they’re better than every other fluffy.” She told him.
Luckily the video was only a few minutes long. She worried she went overboard as Sol was chirping, shivering and huddled up. She sighed. “Okay, let’s get you two cleaned up.” She told him. Verdant at least liked bath time, as long as it didn’t go past his chest. Erin kept Sol at the shallow edge, as he was still shaking. Verdant got washed off, telling his mummah he loved her and wasn’t a bestest fluffy.”
Erin felt she might have messed up showing Verdant those videos too. “I know you aren’t, Ant. You’re a good boy. I never had any problems with you.” The closet thing Erin could consider a problem was his aversion to water, but that was the norm when it came to fluffies. She was lucky she got him to enjoy it. She finally got to Sol, who weakly peeped as he was washed. At least he wasn’t struggling. He was still petrified of water. Still, he was acting like a chirpy. Weakly thrashing his head about.
After drying them off, Erin left Sol curled up against Verdant. “Take a nap, boys.” She told them. She looked up what happened to the show they were supposed to see. Fluff Numbers. It was meant to teach fluffies numbers and was a fairly new show. Oh. It was canceled after the producer lost his head and killed the main fluffy on the show…along with a majority of the cast…and broke the nose of one of the human actors. Well damn. So no more Fluff Numbers. She consulted with her friends about what she did. Was she right? Should she have taken a lighter approach?
Kate agreed with her, saying that discipline was important young. That it might have made him chirp, but it might have been a necessary step. A sorry sticking wasn’t going to change him when he had decided he was special.
Tyler thought it was too far. That she could have shown bratty fluffies getting a lesser punishment…as in not torture. Or some ‘corrective programming’.
Cris thought the videos might have been a bit too far, but he agreed that shocking the fluffy into compliance might have worked better than sorry sticking him. He had a smarty once because he spoiled the fluffy. He made sure his next fluffy Ripper never turned out like that, especially since he was at higher risk being a unicorn.
Erin watched the show she’d taped for the fluffies to see what could have caused this change in Sol. It was worse than she thought.
FluffTV had slipped in the show Babies! but then had some fluffies talking about how great alicorns were. They were alicorns themselves, but the fluff on their head or backs was gelled or poofed up so it hid those features from fluffy eyes. They babbled about how special alicorns were. They were smarter, faster, and bigger! Alicorns were the bestest babies to have! They were trying to get other fluffies to accept alicorns, but in doing so they were making alicorns feel entitled and special. It was practically a guidebook to making a bestest babbeh. Damn. Erin sighed, rubbing her forehead. This…could be a problem. Foals were especially impressionable. But…it should mean that she could fix this. She had to be able to.
The next day she checked on her fluffies. Verdant was cheerful as always, loving of his mummah. Perhaps it was reinforced by the videos, and remembering how he’d been abandoned. He toddled over, and sat up. “Upsies, mummah? Pwease?” Verdant asked.
Erin smiled and obliged. She picked up Verdant and hugged him close. “Of course, baby.”
“Nu am babbeh. Am Ant!” Verdant said, confused.
“Of course you are.” She said. He forgot sometimes about terms of endearment. “Go to the kitchen. Breakfast is ready.” She told him. She’d fluffy proofed her house already. It was just a few more changes from her lifestyle, as she was used to cats and dogs. Leave nothing out that could be breakable. Assume the dog or cat recently adopted was dumb as a bag of rocks. Daisy was like that. Lovable, but she was pretty sure no thoughts went through that dog’s head that weren’t food related…and she meant that in the kindest and fondest of terms. Luckily most fluffies were about that dumb.
As Verdant toddled off…Erin turned to Sol, who was waking up.
“Good morning, Sol.” She said pointedly to the foal avoiding her gaze.
“Mownin mummah.” Sol replied, his ears down.
“I’m not mad at you, Sol. I’m worried. I’d never do those things to you, but when you’re old enough, you’ll be getting a mummah or daddeh of your own. I wouldn’t want them to do such things when I can’t protect you.” While Erin mostly trusted the people she would adopt out to, she knew it was easier to kill a bad foal. Or to get rid of them. Offload them to a breeder in search of alicorns, or to a certain streamer who liked to stomp on them. Erin was pretty sure several of those clips were from her show.
Sol whimpered and looked up at Erin. “Buh…Sow wan be speshul.” He said.
“And you are.” Erin reassured him. “You are special. But that doesn’t make you bestest.” She said. “You have pretty fluff and you’re kind. Being an alicorn is nice. But calling yourself special and pretending to be better…that makes you mean. That makes you bad. People don’t like bad fluffies.” She explained to him gently. She held her hand out to him. “You understand?” She asked.
Sol nuzzled her hand. “Sow undewstand.” He said. He apparently wasn’t glad to not be special.
“Okay. Good boy. Let’s go get some food.” Erin scooped up Sol, as his little legs weren’t ready to take him to the kitchen yet.
Sol was getting something new today. Kibble softened with milk. It was always the plan to start him today. Erin was seeing the start of teeth in Sol’s mouth.
Verdant was already chowing down on his quality kibble.
It was more expensive, but Erin wouldn’t let her companions eat trash. No, they would get quality food. As a treat, they got some fruits or vegetables that were fluffy safe. Verdant was at least satisfied with his kibble. He said it tasted like sketties, even if it wasn’t sketties. Though what he didn’t know was sketties was some ramen Erin had. Apparently fluffies had no way to discern between quality pasta or cheap ramen. If they thought all sketties were the best, they were getting some ramen.
Sol looked at the mix before him in a bowl pretty as he was. He sniffled it. “Nu wike.” He said, sitting heavily on his rear. It smelled like miwkies, but the pieces looked like poopies.
Erin sighed heavily. Here it goes. “Sol, you need to eat kibble. You’re getting teeth now.” She told him, hoping this would work, but she didn’t think it would. Verdant had been an easy fluffy, but perhaps it was due to him being abandoned by his family. He was so grateful for Erin and all she provided. So grateful he could be a toughie and protect his new family. These newer fluffies were found as foals, forgetting their previous troubles. They were spoiled compared to others.
“Nu wan.” Sol said, puffing up his cheeks.
“That’s all you’re getting.” Erin said, deciding to take a hard stance. “If you don’t eat it, you don’t get breakfast.”
“Hmph.” Sol turned his nose up at the food.
Erin shrugged, and threw out the softened kibble, washing the bowl after. She wouldn’t even let him lick the bowl for milk. “Alright. No breakfast.” She told Sol. She was sure his stomach would outvote his pride.
It only took an hour.
“Mummah! Babbeh nee nummies!” Sol whined, toddling over. They’d been playing ball with each other while Erin read, keeping an eye on the two of them occasionally.
“You had the chance for nummies. You didn’t want them. Do you want your kibble now?”
“Yickies! Babbeh wan miwkes!” Sol claimed, stomping a hoof.
“Sol. Did you just stomp at me?” Erin asked, her voice stern but quiet.
Sol pissed himself, though it was lucky he was on an easily cleanable play mat.
“And now you’ve made a mess.” She said. She plucked him up by the scruff.
“Bad upsies!” Sol squeaked, his tail between his legs.
Erin sighed. “Verdant, Sol needs a sorry sticking. Play by yourself a bit.” She told him.
“Otay mummah.” Verdant said, ears down. He didn’t like Sol being punished, but he was being a bad babbeh…and Ant was a good fluffy.
“Now…what do we do with you…” Erin said, taking Sol into the bathroom. Time for a punishment.