Whelp here’s the conclusion. Sorry it’s doesn’t have more gore in it. I have failed you all. Hope you folk enjoy.
You can’t believe your ears. Did your special friend just call your precious little babbeh a poopy? Babbehs aren’t poopies. Babbehs are babbehs. Babbehs are for Huggies and love. You sit there giving your hungry little green babbeh Huggies. Farmer daddeh walks closer and closer to your special friend.
"Listen here you little ingrate. If you wanna stay here than that baby is gonna get fed just like all the others. Or god help me I’ll have you turned into a hat!
Your special friend puffs out her cheeks.
“NU CAWE! Nu gib ugwy poopie babbeh miwkies. Poopy babbeh am miwkie thief! He onwy wan take miwkies fwom mummahs pwetty babbehs! He desewb onwy poopies!”
You look at your special friend in horror.
“S… Speciaw fwen… Dis am ouw babbeh… Am onwy wittwe babbeh… Pickwe nee miwkies.”
You say holding your babbeh towards her.
“I know this is probably breakin yer heart there Goliath but it seems bitch here needs to be taught some manners.”
Without hesitation the farmer grabs your special friend up by the nap of her neck.
“SCREE! NUUU! NU GIB BAD UPSIES TA MUMMAH! MUMMAH GIB MEANIE DADDEH SOWWY POOPIES!”
You watch as your special friend lets out a burst of diarrhea on farmer daddeh’s work boots. Some of which splatters and sprays babydoll. She chirps for help.
“NU! WHY SPECIAW FWEN GIB BABBEHDOWW SOWWY POOPIES! NU WOWWY BABBEHS! DADDEH AM HEWE!”
You say rushing over to your foals and giving lickey cleanies to babydoll.
“Huuhuuhuu. Daddeh keep babbehs wawmsies. Buh Daddeh nu hab miwkies foh babbehs.”
“We’ll see just how smug you are when I’m done with you. I only keep useful critters here, and you just proved that you ain’t useful.”
Farmer Daddeh takes your special friend off. You stay there snuggling with your babbehs. They search and search for miwkie pwaces but they search in vain. They chirp loudly begging for miwkie Nummies.
“Huuhuuhuu. Daddeh sowwy babbehs. Nu hab miwkies huuhuu.”
Suddenly the doors open. Farmer daddeh comes back on holding a basket.
“Well Goliath. I milked her best I could. These bottles used to belong to my babies but they haven’t been babies for a looong time.”
Farmer Daddeh sits down and pulls out a weird cup that looks like it has a miwkie place on the end.
“Alright. Hand me pickle. He’s probably hungrier than the rest.”
You give farmer daddeh pickle. You realize there are miwkies in the cup. Hooray! Your babbehs are saved.
“Fank ou foh gib babbehs miwkies fawmah Daddeh. Dey am suuuuuu hungwy.”
And hungry they were. Pickle alone sucked half of the first bottle down himself. He let out a small burp and made happy cheeps. Farmer Daddeh gave you back pickle and fed the rest of your babbehs. You layed the now happy babbehs in a little fluff pile that you would sleep around tonight.
“Daddeh… Wha bout Speciaw fwen?”
You ask.
“Well Goliath. As much as I wanna git rid of her I can’t leave the foals alone while we work. I’ll bring her back out but… Well… Marjorie did some research and it seems the only way ta keep pickle safe is to keep him inside with us.”
You perk your ears up.
“Fawmah Daddeh take pickwe inside fawmah Daddeh’s housie?.. Gowiaf nu wan gib pickwe buh… Wiww if it keeps pickwe safe!”
You say with false confidence in your voice.
“That’s a good boy Goliath. Once he gets big enough I’ll make sure he gets sent to a good home. Maybe one of my babies will take him.”
“Fawmah Daddehs babbehs take pickwe? Gib pickwe homesies?”
You ask.
“Maybe. But he’ll definitely be safer in the house with us. I’ll still let him out to play with his brothers and sisters. He’ll just have to stay inside at night and when we’re workin.”
Daddeh leaves with pickle. You wait till he’s out the door before you start crying.
“BUHUUHUUHUUUUU! Whai dummeh Speciaw fwen gib babbeh huwties! DAT Gowiaf babbeh! DAT ouw babbeh! Huuhuuhuu!”
You cry for what seems like many forevers before you finally fall asleep.
The next morning you wake up to farmer Daddeh opening the doors.
“Wakey time aweady fawmah Daddeh?”
You ask groggily.
You hear a soft crying coming from the door.
“Huuhuuhuu! Speciaw fwen! Mummah nee Huggies! Huuhuuhuuhuu!”
You look up and see a big flabby pink… Thing… That kind of looks like a fluffy. You’re confused at first before it dawns on you.
“Wha… Wha happun ta pwetty fwuff bish?”
You ask. The farmer smirks when you call her by her new namesies.
“Dummeh Daddeh take aww ob fwuffies pwetty fwuff! HUUHUUHUUU! Pwease Speciaw fwen! Nu caw fwuffy meanie namesie!”
She asks. You look her in the eyes.
“… Ou nu Speciaw fwen. Ou twy huwt babbeh.”
Your old special friend looks at you with a look of shock.
“Buh…buh gowiaf… Am Speciaw fwen… Ou say ou wub fwuffy?”
She says with a quivering lip. You see tears welling in her eyes.
You feel bad for a minute before remembering walking in seeing your newborn babbeh starving and covered in your special friends poopies.
“Gowiaf nu wub ou nu moh! Ou meanie ta babbeh jus becuz ou say he nu pwetty. But you nu pwetty nu moh eitha!”
Farmer Daddeh laughs as you tell off your old special friend.
“Heheh! That was what I was goin fer. If she’s gonna be all high an mighty about good looks I’ll take it away.”
Your old special friend waddles in towards the babbehs.
“HUUHUUHUUU! Babbehs! Babbehs! Mummah hab cowdies! Nee Huggies!”
She says cuddling up to the babbehs. Recognizing their mothers scent they immediately start peeping for milk.
Farmer Daddeh walks over. He sits pickle down in front of your old special friend.
“Feed him first… Or god help me I’ll skin ya and make ya into a rug.”
She looks down at the foal. Picks him up and places him on her miwkie place.
“Uuuurg… Nu wan gib miwkies ta dummeh poopie babbeh…buh haf tu. Nu wan wose skin.”
She grumbles to herself as she nurses. Pickle seems unfazed as he gently needs her miwky place suckling to his little hearts content.
With every word something builds up inside of you. Something you’ve never really felt before.
She grumbles and grumbles getting slowly louder with each breath. Finally pickle is done. He lets go and lets out a cute little burps with his talky place covered in sweet miwkies.
“Dew! Dummeh poopie babbeh dun! Nao can gib bestest miwkies ta pwetty babbehs!”
Something snaps.
“H…Hatechu.”
Your old special friend looks at you.
“Wha?”
You feel a rage.
“HATECHU! GOWIAF HATECHU! OU AM WOWSTEST MUMMAH! AM WOWSTEST SPECIAW FWEN! OU NU MUMMAH! DEES AM GOWIAF’S BABBEHS NAO! NU TOUCHIES!”
You say immediately standing over your babbehs.
They peep for milk but you don’t care. You’d rather lose your pretty fluff too than let bitch touch them again.
“Buuhuu pwease nu yeww at fwuffy! Fwuffy nee gib babbehs miwkies! Nee Huggies an wub! Uuugh! IS OU FAUWT DUMMEH BABBEH!”
Before you can stop her she throws little pickle through the air. He hits against a support beam and falls to the floor. He chirps louder than you’ve ever heard a babbeh chirp.
“MUNSTAH! MUNSTAH BISH!”
You scream before knocking your special friend over and sinking your teeth into her face.
“SCREEEEEE! WOWSTEST CHEEKY HUWTIES! WET GO WET GOOO! BABBEHS SAB MUMMAH! BUUHUUHUU!”
You feel a tug then suddenly you’re picked up.
“Darnit Goliath! I got yer mad but I don’t need you killin year old lady! We still need her for milk.”
As you’re jerked away you notice red splotches on your special friend. You bit her hard enough to draw booboo juice. You can taste it. Suddenly your mind snaps back to reality.
“P-PICKWE! NEE SAB PICKWE! PWEASE FAWMAH DADDEH!”
He lets you down and you run over to your babbeh. He’s alive but his left wingey is bent wrong.
“Daddeh sniffle babbeh hab wowstest wingeh owies! Pwease hewp pickwe! Pwease sab gowiaf babbeh Daddeh! BUUHUUHUUUUU!”
You plead while giving your hurt babbeh Huggies.
Your name is Victor. You’re a fifth generation farmer. Recently you’ve taken in a family of Fluffies. At first you really just wanted to make them suffer to pay for the crops they stole from you but surprisingly the male made a good lawnmower. You’ve grown attached to the little bugger. Even gave him a name. Well now you’re in your pickup driving to the vet. You had your wife Marjorie call ahead and explain the situation. They recommended instead of the normal vet you take them to the great Wheels of fluff shelter as they have a specialized veterinarian for Fluffies.
Your Fluffies wife is a real piece of shit. She decided one of her newborn foals was supposed to eat shit because he wasn’t pretty enough. You decided to take her down a peg by shaving off all her fur but apparently that didn’t work. She threw the foal against the wall. You put bitch in an old cat carrier and have the hurt foal swaddled in an old baby blanket. He chirps loudly. You know he’s in agony. You left your good fluffy with his kids.
You arrive at the shelter and they immediately rush the foal back. You sit and wait with bitch beside you.
“Huuhuu pwease fawmah Daddeh. Nu huwt fwuffy nu moh! Fwuffy be gud!”
You smack the carrier and ignore her. After about an hour the lady comes back holding the foal. He’s got a tiny cast on his wing.
“Thankfully we found no other injuries.”
She says.
"What would make a mother wanna do this to her own child?
You ask.
“Well we call it BMS. Stands for bitch mare syndrome. Normally it happens when a mare breeds before she’s really old enough. Think of it as the difference between an 18 year old having a baby and a 30 year old having a baby. Ones probably gonna be much more prepared and have a much better time.”
“Well still. I’ve never seen an 18 year old mom willingly hurt her new born.”
You say holding pickle gently.
“I know but ya gotta remember. Fluffies aren’t people. Anyways what are you going to do? I mean I wouldn’t recommend taking him back with this monster there. We can take her if you want.”
She says.
“No. Sadly I can’t give her. I need her to feed them. Can’t afford the foal formula. Farming ain’t exactly a rich man’s life. Especially at my age.”
You laugh.
“Heh. I understand Mr. Abernathy. I remember helping my uncle on his farm when I was a kid. Well … I could take little pickle here. We’ll keep him fed and warm. And he’ll have plenty of friends until he gets adopted. Of course we’ll have him bottle fed until he’s weened.”
You think about it for a minute. You don’t wanna see the little rascal hurt, but you know Goliath will be sad.
“What’ll I tell his dad? He’ll be devastated.”
She gets a smile.
“I’ll give you a pamphlet on dealing with a bitch mare. Here’s exactly what you tell him.”
It seems like many forevers since your Daddeh took pickle and your old dummeh Speciaw fwen away.
Finally the door opens.
“DADDEH! AM PICKWE OKAY?”
You say running up to him.
“Well little buddy. Pickle was hurt pretty bad but he’s alright now. The nice lady at the shelter took him to a place called skettiland! A nice place where he can run and play and eat the best sketti all day.”
You look at Daddeh.
“Pickwe am in skettiwand?.. HOOWAY! MY BABBEH AM IN SKETTIWAND! AM SUUUUUU HAPPEH! Babbehs desewb aww da bestest skettis. Gowiaf bet pickwe am dwinkies bestest sketti miwkies wite nao.”
“You’re not sad that your boy ain’t here?”
Daddeh asks.
“Gowiaf am a wittwe saddies, buh gowiaf knu dat pickwe am bettah off in skettiwand.”
You have so many heart Happies. If any of your foals needed to be in skettiland it was definitely pickle. He’d been through a lot.
“Daddeh… What do bout Speciaw fwen?”
You ask. You notice that she’s not with farmer daddeh.
“Well don’t you worry bout that Goliath. She’s still here but I’ve got a little bit of work ta do before she’s allowed back in here. Anyways. I’ll let my wife watch yer babies for today. We have work to do boy.”
A few bright times go by. You don’t see your special friend but your babbehs are making good poopies and growing bigger so you know they’re being fed. You miss pickle but know he’s having more fun than you can ever imagine. You’re laying in your barn housie with your babbehs curled up in your fluff. Farmer Daddeh gave you an old blanky to use as a bed. Suddenly you hear something.
“Chirp! Chirp! Mummah! Cheep! Daddeh! Cheep! Nee miwkies!”
You open your eyes and see babydoll looking right at you.
“B… BABBEH! BABBEH OPEN EYESIES! YAAAY! Daddeh wub babbehdoww suuuuuu muchies! Am fiwst tawkie babbeh!”
You give babydoll Huggies. One by one your babbehs open their eyes. They immediately recognize you as Daddeh.
“Daddeh! Wub!”
Ox says.
“Daddeh whewe mummah? Babbeh nee miwkies.”
Grape asks.
“Daddeh! Babbeh hab see pwaces!”
Cherry says proudly.
“Huuhuu Daddeh wub babbehs! Am suuuu happeh!”
Three weeks pass. Farmer Daddeh has started working the babbehs. Not a lot but enough to start out. You’ve noticed ox especially getting muscles like you. You miss having a special friend. Just not your last one. One day as you and your babbehs are eating your dinner kibbles farmer daddeh walks in.
“Hey Goliath. I’ve got somethin fer ya.”
You walk out. Hoping to yourself it’s a sketti reward. Or even better. Sweetie Nummies reward.
“Well Goliath. You’ve been doing a lot better than I ever thought a fluffy could. I know you probably miss havin yer woman. We’ve already started makin money off of this year’s harvest so I decided to git ya something… Come on out Creampuff.”
As Daddeh stops talking from beside the barn housie a big beige colored fluffy with a white mane walks out.
“Am dis fwuffies nyu homesies nyu Daddeh?”
You sit there staring. This is a big fluffy. Bigger than you.
“Wow. Gowiaf nebba see fwuffy dis big befoh… Nyu fwen!?!”
You ask.
“Gasp cweampuff git nyu fwen tuu!?! Dis am bestest homesies eva!”
You walk back inside your house to get a cup of water. With how fast fluffies bond you figure she’ll be pregnant by tomorrow. You really did wanna treat Goliath but you have other motives to letting him breed with that pricey little fluffalo. You figure selling the weened foals as work animals is a good way to get some extra money. You’ve bred dogs before so this shouldn’t be much different. With goliaths genes to build muscle that fast and creampuffs size. Should have a thriving business, and if not. Well it’s nice to something like kids around the farm again. You just have one last thing to take care of now that the foals are weened.
You walk into your old storage closet. On the wall sits bitch. Completely strapped to the wall with her legs sprawled out. Her tits withered and deflated now that she doesn’t produce milk. Her body mass decimated due to weeks of no physical movement.
“Well good mornin there bitch.”
You say. She twinges.
“Huuhuuhuu pweeeeeaaaase wet fwuffy go. Babbehs am big nao. Nu nee miwkies nu moh.”
You look at her.
“Exactly. Which means I don’t need you anymore. Especially considerin Goliath has a new special friend. I never liked putting my horses down, But you’re an exception.”
You untie her from the wall carrying her through the house. She’d probably give sorry poopies if you’d actually feed her. Ever since the foals switched completely to solid food you’ve decided she doesn’t deserve food.
You grab your daddy’s old .45 off your bedside table. Was good enough to fight the Japanese. Ought to be good enough to put down a fluffy.
You take her out away from the house where the blast won’t scare your other Fluffies.
“Pwease. Jus wet fwuffy go. Fwuffy Neba eva cum backsies. Pwease!”
You point the pistol at her.
“Nope. Sorry. Ain’t takin no chances of you ever treatin another baby like that.”
She opens her mouth to plead again
“Pweeheeheeheeeez! Fwuffy nu huwt babbehs! fwuffy be gu-BANG”
…Silence.
“Whelp. That ends that one.”
