One more hit PART:2 (Poopiest_of_bebbehs)

One more hit PART:1 can be found here.


Billie giggled like a school girl as the family dynamic turned to shit before her eyes, souring further on a daily basis and captured in its horrid entirety by the overhead camera, just as she had predicted. The once loving couple had slowly begun to drift apart as their addictions took hold, now they had taken to sleeping in opposite corners of the shed, just to avoid another unnecessary clash.

In truth, the family dynamic was and always had been held together by Scratch, who had made a habit of turning a blind eye to Jitters’ obsessive need for caffeine. And in truth she had no reason to worry about him, as in spite of everything, he was a wonderful partner and a very attentive father. Unfortunately Scratch was now unable to pick up the slack for him, as in the last two weeks she had begun to carry a new litter, entering pregnancy not long after they had made their home in Billie’s shed. Now the mare was an immobile balloon and constantly high to-boot.

Scratch spent most of her waking hours in a dizzy stupor, carried on continual euphoric highs. When she was on the downturn she would become outright hostile to Jitters over his negligence, as he himself was constantly battling the need for another dose of the black liquid goodness that only Billie delivered twice a day in a tiny glass.

“Mandy, ya gotta see this shit, I stuffed a mare full of smack and-” Billie boasted over the phone until being abruptly cut off.

“listen, I’m busy right now Bil-… wait, you did what?” Mandy chuckled awkwardly once the words had set in.

“ya heard me, this is what gets ya going right? Science and experiments and all that shite?” Billie shrugged to herself, as if Mandy could magically see her.

“that’s not an experiment” Mandy sighed, “that’s sadism”.

“and? Ya get off breaking these things too, don’t ya go lying to me” Billie grinned as she sent the clips from the first week.

“no! Listen, I’m trying to be a better person. Some shit happened to me recently and I just want to move beyond this phase and… oh my…” Mandy gasped as soon as the videos came in on her end, “that’s… Wow…”.

“hell yeah! That’s what I like to hear, we both know what gets those skinny jeans damp” Billie grinned smugly into her handset.

“that’s fucking disgusting, never say that to me again!” Mandy grimaced, before her curiosity took hold again and she began scrolling further, “secondly… this is surprisingly interesting, considering it was done by you of all people” she added.

“and that means?” Billie huffed.

“it means that if you can refrain from stomping them or sodomizing them with a cricket bat, then I might drop what I’m doing” Mandy relented as she rolled her eyes. And although she couldn’t see the conflict on her friend and colleague’s face, Billie felt it.

“oh and the mum is pregnant too” she added swiftly before her thumb hovered over the button to end the call.

“wait, wha-”

“gotta-go-now-bye!” she smiled before abruptly hanging up.

Mandy’s curiosity was too much for her to handle and Billie knew it, she wouldn’t be interested if there weren’t still questions to be answered and an academic like her may very well salivate at the chance of studying birth defects from opioid abuse in the womb.

Billie had work to do now, she couldn’t spend the whole morning teasing Mandy, even if she wanted to. The girl brought a bag of kibble and her satchel to the shed, opened the door and was greeted by the now fully walkie and talkie bebbehs: Fidget, the brown sister with a blue mane and Horse-Flesh, the male twin with a blue body and cream hair.

Due to their colour palettes being so Uncharismatic, Billie knew that she couldn’t make any scratch off of these two when it was all said and done. But Billie wasn’t in this for cash, pleasure was on the menu.

Both of the foals were extremely neglected, with both parents having become so wrapped up in themselves that they would almost forget that they even had foals to begin with.

Fidget had taken to being a ‘dancie bebbeh’ to get herself even the tiniest crumb of attention and validation, all the while her brother, Horse-Flesh had taken to being a ‘spwowin bebbeh’. Despite the intense amount of effort they both had put into their hobbies of choice, neither of them would ever get much out of it and would often find themselves at odds with each other to pass the time.

“dummeh Fidget nu can eben dancie wite! Dancies am aww poopies!” Horse-Flesh chastised her.

“Howse Fwesh am wowstest spwowin bebbeh ebah, nebah fin nuffin gud, am stoopid!” Fidget would fire back at him.

Billie watched the disfunction from her phone and it filled her with tingling vindication, she walked into the shed with a desire to shake things up, the family held itself by a thread and she would be the woman to cut, she had to.

“hewwo, mummah!” Jitters grinned weakly, his eyes bloodshot and encircled by dark rings, “Jittews nee mowe poopie wawa pweas” he begged.

“yeah, yeah, ya can fookin’ wait…” Billie growled at him, forcing a tiny scaredy fart from the stallion as he backed away. She then turned her attention to Scratch, who was desperate for another hit, mad with need for more.

“DUMMEH MUMMAH, SCWATCH NEE MOWE MEDEESIN!” the fat bitch huffed and it was clear as day that a continuous cycle of withdrawal and addiction had mutated the once sweet and warm mare into a demanding little nag, utterly void of love for anything but herself.

“you’ll get it later, now shut ya mouth and eat” Billie smirked as she sprinkled a handful of kibble into the bowl, topping it with a handful of parsley before she then finally kicked it over to the big blue ball.

Scratch was too out of it to take notice or ask about the tiny shredded leaves, she just wanted to eat, as the sooner she ate then the sooner she would get her ‘medicine’, the only thing that occupied her mind now. So she lowered her head and began scoffing down the kibble with frenzied snorts, barely chewing, her eyes dead and devoid of joy, as joy was no longer a possibility for her, she was a slave to short-lived bursts of ever fleeting pleasure.

Billie watched, almost on the cusp of drooling from the beautiful and pathetic sight, until her morning entertainment was cut short as she felt a tiny hoof touch her converse, it was Fidget, wobbling and shifting her weight side to side, trying desperately to absorb a single drop of validation out of a parental figure.

“w-wook mummah am da-” she tried to say before Billie knocked her over with a tiny kick, busting her little snout.

“shut up” she scoffed, “ya dancing is rate shite” she added with cold, dissatisfied spite, bringing the affection starved filly to tears, chirping as she rolled up into a ball and sucking her hoof. Her brother on the other hand was digging through a drawer that had been left open at ground level.

"wook mummah Biwwie, Bebbeh spwowe an fin da bestest pwetties! He declared while holding up a measuring tape, as if it were a grand treasure, freshly plundered from a pharaoh’s unmolested tomb.

“first of…” Billie sneered as she smacked the tape out of his hooves, which sent a wave of wide eyed shock through him, “that’s a tape measure, ya failed abortion! Secondly, NEVER call me by my name, and lastly…” she growled as she got down low, pushing her face uncomfortably close to the colt’s ears, “YOUR NAME IS HORSE-FLESH!” she screamed with such fury that the foal held his hooves to his head in panic.

“eeeeeeee bu nu wike namsie! Am scawy namsie! Id a-amm…” he tried desperately to explain before blacking out from the anxiety and volume. Billie then slammed the drawer shut with the dazed Horse-Flesh still trapped within.

“try and ‘splore’ out of that, cunt…” she smiled to herself before her ears pricked at the melodic sound of artificially induced childbirth.

“ooooowwwwwwiiiieeesss! Hab wowstest tummeh huwties, mummah, hewp!” the mare begged as the contractions shrunk her pupils to dots, as all the while the rapid and brutal waves of agony tore through her drug crippled body.

“nah, go fook yourself” Billie smiled, “I’m just a ‘Dummeh’, remember?” she added venomously.

“AM S-SOWW-EEEEEEEEEEEE! HAB HUWTIES! PWEAS SABE SCWATCH BEBBEHS! HEWP TAYK HUWTIES AWA-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” she begged and pleaded as the contractions made every muscle in her ample frame shudder in misery.

Billie said not a word as she raised her foot, laid it against the mare’s back and laid the perfect amount of pressure to steady her.

“tank yew mumma-ACKKK-ACREEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Scratch cried and panicked as the supporting weight then doubled, tripled, quadrupled and then pop. A flurry of pink gunk, jelly like mucus, a bundle of soggy peanut sized foals and a burst sack of afterbirth exploded across the floor.

Scratch was too tired, too exhausted and too needy for another hit to even give her new, chirping and fearful young the ‘wicky cweanies’ or milk they desperately needed, she simply slumped her head against the floor and wheezed like the selfish cow she was, too self interested to even look at them.

“nee… Medeesin… P-pwease…” she pleaded like the worthless wretch she was, with her face coated in tears and her body still flowing with tremors of muscle tightening agony.

“no” Billie chuckled, “gonna take a look at them sprogs ya got first, then we’ll see”.

The sadistic woman put her shoe to the side of Scratch and slid her out of view as one would to unwanted crumbs by a coffee table. Behind where she had sat, laying in a pile of gunk was a collection of ever so slightly premature foals, but that was not what made them interesting. Billie counted six with four being alive. Of the surviving were a collection of horrific and ungodly mutations, deformities and malfunctions that belonged nowhere outside of the drug addled minds of spiralling late 70s rockstars or carnival freakshows of the 1920s.

The first to note was an albino, one head was that of a unicorn and he was a loud and needy little shit, yet his fellow Siamese twin was very much the opposite, having no horn and being so very timid, he appeared fearful even to his body’s own co-host. Their shade was an unnaturally stark, bleached white and upon the back of the mutant’s body was a set of mismatched wings, with one being exceedingly large on the timid brother’s side, nearly three times so, while the crying and horned brother bore only the typical little nub, befitting of his age.

“Alabaster” Billie said confidently as she booped the crying unicorn on the nose, “Ivory” she added as she did the same to the timid sibling, who recoiled at her finger’s touch.

Then Billie turned to the other two: the smallest of the surviving litter was a pale purple devoid of functioning legs, ears, an eye and much of his lips. And in truth, it appeared more like a peeping tumor than any sort of fluffy. Finally the fourth and final one took Billie’s notice and she gagged at the sight of it. It was a clear case of microcephaly if ever there was one, with a large and disgusting dent upon the cranium, a creature utterly devoid of conscious thoughts. This pale orange and sickly excuse for a foal simply felt around blindly with its legs, aimlessly and without purpose. And if it were not for the fact that this creature’s legs ever so lightly twitched on occasion, or its head shuffled about the ground slowly, then Billie would have been forgiven by almost anybody for thinking that it was, at first, just another horrifically malformed corpse.

The dead rejects of the litter were barely even worthy of acknowledgement, as they simply had too many or two few limbs, heads too small and bodies incapable of surviving in any environment, failures even before the first breath. Billie barely gave them a look before scooping them up and bringing them inside, “why waste protein?” she thought to herself as they whirled into a reddish-pink mush in the blender.

When she returned, she found Jitters and Scratch screaming in fear of their new litter with the typical “huuhuuhuuu scawy, nu wike!” from Scratch and aggressive huffing and puffed cheeks from her partner. And standing before them, to Billie’s amazement was Fidget, standing guard with inflated cheeks, puffed chest and a stalwart posture.

“NU, BAD MUMMAH AN DADDEH! NU HUWT MUNSTAH BEBBEHS!” she declared, never dropping her guard, even as Billie opened the shed, sending the parents into a shaking fit at her presence. instantly they forgot about their abominations as soon as their giver of gifts, the enabler of addictions had appeared.

“eat up” Billie said as she presented the slurry to Scratch before the ragged mare could so much as begin to beg for her “medeesin”.

“dis smeww wike boo boo wawa…” she replied in confusion.

“it should smell like it, because it’s ya babies” Billie said as a plain and cold matter of fact.

“eeeEEEE! nu wan! nu wan num munstah bebb-” Scratch begged until the palm of Billie’s hand struck hard against her face.

“ya gonna fookin’ eat them, then you’re gonna give milk to the others, or else you’ll never get medecin again!” her owner threatened.

there was a deafening pause as the slap bounced off of the oak walls of the shed, there was not a sound for it to contend with, save for the fearful chirping of the new-born mutants.

“…o-otay…M-mummah…Scwatch unastan…” she sobbed, completely shaken by the strike, still reeling from the shock. “s-s-sowwy widdwe munsath bebbehs, bu mummah nee medeesin…” she whimpered and cried before burying her muzzle into the bowl with muffled gagging and “huuhuuhuuuu”-s.

“-AND YOU!” Billie snapped as she grabbed Jitters by his mane and threw him into the back garden. “no more free coffee, dickhead! ya want food and drink? then ya gotta work for it!” Billie grinned before pointing towards an old tin lunchbox filled with just enough rocks to push a fluffy stallion to his physical limit. “ya gonna move that box from one side of the garden to the other”, she added, pointing to the two designated lines, set with yellow tape, “ya get one shot of coffee each time” she finished before stepping back into the shed, looking over her shoulder to watch him pathetically try to budge the rusty container in withdrawal fuelled desperation.

when Billie turned to the foals, she found fidget giving ‘wickie cweanies’ to her siblings before handing them off to her mother for feeding, all the while watching her with untrusting eyes, like a hawk.

Billie popped a needle into Scratch, who predictably yelped before going limp with ecstasy.

“fuck! nearly forgot!” Billie shouted suddenly as she opened the bottom drawer, revealing a peeping and fearful Horse-Flesh, whom she then lifted out by his scruff. “make yourself useful and look after the mutents” she said as she rolled him like a ball towards the litter.

“SCREEEE MUNSTA-” he panicked at the sight of them until Fidget gave him a ruddy good hoofing to the snout.

“SHUDDUP! DEM AM ONWY WIDDWE BEBBEHS!” she huffed at him.

“b-but nu wike! Am scawy!” he cried.

“Den gu spwowe, dummeh…” she said as she turned her back and flicked her tail at him.

five hours later found Billie on her break at Deacon Farms, smiling ear to ear at the live feed on her phone.

“who are they?” Derek asked as he passed her by with a raised brow and cappuccino in hand.

“just a home project of mine, boss” Billie smiled contently, “Ya want me to send ya a copy of the footage?” she asked as he scanned her phone screen.

“no thank you” he replied confidently, “their colours are very… muted, plain, even” he noted before abruptly excusing himself.

Billie wasn’t exactly sure what that the boss meant by that, he was getting rather cryptic since the fluff-fair, so she simply shrugged, grabbed her mop and bucket, then got back to cleaning up the blood on the walkway’s concrete floor.

“we can’t all afford to be picky, boss” she sighed to herself.

-to be continued-

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Ended up having to make this a three-parter because I have too many ideas and not enough time when it comes to Billie… Oh the tragedy.

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Huh, I think outta everyone in this family, Fidget has the most hope to pull through even remotely well-adjusted.

Also: do you think the babies came out being addicted to heroin, and will they also experience withdrawals without their mom getting a hit and having it channel through her milk? In human babies born with opioid addiction, they normally go on subaxone treatment with it being added into their feeding tubes until they can be successfully weaned off of it. I wonder if Billie would be willing to try that for fluffies…

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Very interesting point. I would say that they are getting it via milk.

In terms of Fidget, I think she is adopting a role in her family dynamic not so different from what Billie had to deal with as a late teen. After all, this basically turned into Billie reenacting her trauma through fluffies.

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Yep, that’s exactly how my poor cousin came into the world- my uncle met his baby mama at an NA meeting, but unfortunately she relapsed during the pregnancy and the kid had to be taken at the hospital. I guess the one silver lining is that it made it a lot easier for my uncle ( who very fortunately has managed to stay clean ) to get custody.

As far as fluffies go, can’t wait to see how badly the rest of the family deteriorates- its only a matter of time before the abominations are stomped no matter how much fear Billie puts into the adults and Horse Flesh- especially when Scratch hits the point in her addiction that only a near-lethal dose of heroin will satisfy her.

Don’t do drugs, kids!

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If there was ever an appropriate quote for this mini series, it’s that.

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I’m glad that your cousin is doing better now! I’m sorry for how he came into this world, but I hope that he’s thriving!

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Yeah, same. Every child deserves a fair chance at life, I hope they’re doing great.

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Billie and the others need some serious help.

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I like to think of Billie as one of Mandy MacFeely’s worst enablers. Sadism and mania crossed with anger issues and morbid curiosity rarely work out when mixed together.

That… And it is very fun and fascinating to write about people with mental illnesses.

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Oh definitely. One of my future main character fluffies is going to be a metaphorical giant with autism who hates sounds and the constant chatter of other fluffies. The downside? He becomes the Smarty.

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It also doesn’t hurt that I have a mental disability, an almost crippling anxiety that makes me sick if I travel and an odd fear of unintentionally breaking any animal (especially infants) I hold in my hands.

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I think people are inherently fascinated in reading about characters with altered neuroses and psychology, it would be an interesting story.

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Billie is, SOMEHOW, stronger than I. With my innate pure hatred of danceh babbehs, I would’ve slowly crushed Fidget under my shoe right then and there, especially if she started sucking her hoof, another trait I fucking hate. I don’t hate “spwowin babbehs” as much as others seem to, but I would’ve definitely forgotten him in the drawer and leave him to starve in fear. I mean like, literally, I completely forgot Horse-Flesh was even here until I looked up and saw the “exploring-baby” tag, and then Billie finally remembered him shortly after. You are a pure artisan in writing and I can’t wait for more. I’m especially excited for Billie to hopefully take them off their vices permanently and see how withdrawal completely tears them apart.

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Thank for the compliment, I always appreciate the comments and feedback as it helps me grow.

In terms of Billie, we have a pure and pragmatic sadist on our hands. I can promise you that Billie was imagining a hundred things to do to the dancing Fidget, but suffering is the name of the game for her, long and drawn out.

I hope you’ll enjoy the finale too.

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Thanks for the reply! My cousin does still have a lot ahead of him- he’s inherited a lot of my family’s neurotic traits and I’m sure its still rough to know his mom is out there but not with him ( she’s been in prison for some of that time ) but my uncle is his biggest fan and the rest of my family in Florida is looking out for him, so he at least has a lot of people in his life that love him. I only see him once a year but I hope for the best for him.

I guess that’s one reason I enjoy reading these stories about fluffies- we can write in all the issues we’ve got with the little rainbow horse puffs, and then give them the happy endings they deserve- or the terrible fates they also deserve, as it may be.

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That’s why I love fluffies as a concept. They are the perfect canvas for any story you can think of, any issue, any drama. It’s very cathartic to write about them.

Giving a horse horse. Magic!

oh gosh i hope the best for fidget and horse-flesh, they’re trying to just be normal. poor horseflesh is just a dumb kid while Fidget is trying to mother her new siblings. such a good filly

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The idea I got for this story came from reading about how some people reenact their own traumas later in life to cope, that felt in line with something Billie would do, what with being a mess.

Fidget is definitely a brave little filly for taking on that responsibility.

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