“Hewwo daddeh! Biwwy am su happy fow see daddeh! Daddeh wan pway wif Biwwy nao?”
The excitable young stallion had been living with his new daddeh for a week now. He’d taken some time to settle into his safe room, but for the last few days he’d become increasingly agitated that new daddeh never played with him.
He’d always try to get daddehs attention, but daddy only gave him petties or scritchy scratchies or good head pats. Never more than a couple, and never leading to play.
Billy had plenty of fun toys for fluffies, but none could replace the joy of playing with someone else. Back at the shelter he’d played with other babbehs, and even when he was a big strong colt he had other colts to fool around with. Daddeh was supposed to replace that. That’s what all fluffies seem to believe, anyway. Hoomins like to play with fluffies and give them lots of huggies and love!
But daddeh didn’t. Daddeh didn’t give scawedies or wowstest huwties, but he didn’t interact with Billy that much either. He fed him, allowed him into the living room to watch teebee, and never raised his voice. But he didn’t play. Didn’t ask Billy anything. Only ever responded to direct inquiries, and always in as short and concise a way as possible.
Billy had grown concerned. This wasn’t right. Fluffies aren’t supposed to be lonely! Fluffies need huggies! And wub! Daddeh only gave him nummies and a safe nesty pwace. He was grateful, as he knew these were important. But his gratitude was stained with fear. What if nyu daddeh is a munstah?
Billy shuddered at the thought. It made his fluff bristle. He’d seen fluffies who’d had munstah daddehs. They always looked…wrong. Always missing pieces. Sometimes it was weggies. Sometimes pwetty taiw or fwuff. Sometimes see pwaces!
Sometimes…sometimes their innocence.
But the days wore on and nothing happened. So one day, Billy worked up the courage to be open and honest with daddeh. He drank plenty of wawa and made sure he’d had a good sweepie time. He groomed himself, and waddled out into the living room to confront daddeh.
Daddeh was seated in his armchair as usual. Watching hoomins smack little balls with sorry sticks. It was really scary, but Billy soldiered on. “Uhhh…d…daddeh? Biwwy hab…hab a kweschun fow ou…” Daddeh looked down. “Hm?” Billy waited for follow up, but seeing none he continued. “Biwwy am…am awways su wonewy. An daddeh nebba wan pway wif Biwwy! Biwwy wub daddeh, an Biwwy wan fankyu fow nummies! An-an-an wawm howsie tuu! But…” The increasingly nervous colt started shaking. “But Biwwy feew wike daddeh nu wub Biwwy…” That broke him. He fell back on his haunches and started sobbing openly into his hooves.
“Huuuhuuuhuuuuuuuu wai daddeh nu wub Biwwy? Am bad fwuffy? Nu wan be bad Biwwy! Onwy wan make daddeh happies an wub Biwwy gain!” He couldn’t hold back the torrent of emotion. It was too powerful to contain. “Pweeeeze pway wif Biwwy! Ow…ow jus make tawkies wif Biwwy! Biwwy nu feew wubbed! Hab wowstest heawt huwties!”
Daddeh said nothing, his eyes merely narrowing. Slowly, he stood up and walked to the kitchen. Billy followed behind him, still babbling in nervous confusion. Daddeh opened a high cabinet and pulled out…a thing? It was blue like Billy, but it looked like a net, or maybe a basket?
Daddeh knelt down and Billy walked up to him. Daddeh held his open hand out and Billy cautiously nuzzled it. When he felt secure, he leaned in more and closed his crying eyes. “Huuuu wub daddeh…”
Then in an instant, daddeh slipped on the thing he’d taken from the cabinet. It was a muzzle. Billy tried to scream, but he only made a loud humming noise as he couldn’t even open his mouth.
It wasn’t painful, but being unable to open his mouth or touch his snout sent Billy into a fit immediately. By some miracle he didn’t make bad poopies, but his eyes were wide with fear and he was clumsily sprinting around out of sheer panic. He’d occasionally stop and paw at it with his hoofsies or sit on his haunches and make huggy arms at daddeh.
“There. Keep quiet. The Web MD says petting you once a day’ll get my blood pressure down, but it don’t say nothing about having to hear you pissing and moaning at me.”
Billy was heartbroken. He didn’t know what that meant, but there were no no words in it and daddy went back to his chair to watch teebee. Billy had never felt so defeated in his life.
Fluffies are fascinating animals. They have a lot of trouble thinking without speaking, and as a result a fluffy kept from speaking will be even dumber than usual. Billy could feel his mind going already. He was having trouble remembering which toys he’d played with. He was only allowed out of his muzzle once a day to eat, and the first time he tried to say anything, daddeh pulled it way too tight when he put it back on, as a punishment.
This went on for days. Billy was sullen. His head hung low when he walked. The bounce and pep that had been in his step was all but gone. A soft humming sound could be heard emanating from his aching bruised snout. Fluffies aren’t meant to be kept muzzled, especially not so tight it hurts.
Aside from the thirty or so minutes he gets to eat each day, Billy has his snout bound together with blue leather straps. He’d come to hate the color. He’d come to hate himself for making daddeh take his voice away.
It was too much. After weeks of this, Billy had one more idea. He trudged out to the living room where daddeh was drinking silly wawa and watching teebee. Billy stood in front of daddeh, and when daddeh was looking, he reared up on his hind legs and did the one thing all fluffies know will inspire love and kindness.
Billy was a dancie babbeh. He was a dancie babbeh fow daddeh. He was too big and chubby, and he was scared and tired and confused. But he made the bestest dancies he could. When he was done, daddeh got up, leaned down, and scooped up the exhausted colt in his arms. Billy had done it. His dancing had made daddeh love him. He’d been a good dancie babbeh fow daddeh.
Daddeh walked into the saferoom as Billy gave him huggies and tried in vain to coo through the meanie muzzle. Daddeh set him down in his bed and went over to the wall.
He took a plastic hook out of his pocket. He peeled something off the back and stuck it on the wall just a bit higher than Billy’s head when he’s standing on all four weggies. Billy wandered over, curious both as to what the hook was for and why daddeh hadn’t taken the meanie muzzle off. Both questions had the same answer.
Daddeh grabbed the frontmost loop on the muzzle. Billy got scared and started trying to back away, but he couldn’t. Daddeh had ahold of the muzzle and he was pulling hard. Billys hoofsies pittered and pattered and pomfed as he tried desperately to free himself or at least slow down, but it was all for naught.
Daddeh took the loop and hooked it on the hook in the wall. “Christ, I got you because toys are supposed to be less needy than pets. Fucking bullshit is what that is.” Without another word, daddeh left. The sounds of teebee drifted in from the hall as he resumed his evening.
Billy was silently crying. The muzzle was hooked to the wall, but it was at a bad angle. He had to put almost all his weight on his back hoofsies and his front ones could barely even touch the ground. Daddeh left him hanging too high! Billy tried to yell, but remembered he couldn’t anymore because he’d been such a bad fluffy. He collapsed again, falling back on his haunches.
Only he couldn’t. He got about 2/3rds of the way down when the muzzle stopped him. As he let his weight shift back, all the stress and tension was distributed across his head and neck.
All he saw was a blank spot on the wall. All he heard was daddeh laughing, the teebee making loud noises, and his own muffled sobbing as he felt his self identity fade more with each passing day. His only hope was to forget what life had been like before daddeh, but despite everything, that was the one thing that remained crystal clear and burned itself into his mind.
“YOU ARE UNLOVED.”