Pistol had always had strange dreams. Every night they tempted his mind with foreign memories. Alien thoughts spoken by familiar voices. Knowledge dripping up the strings of a marionette.
When he was little the dreams had terrified him. Raw, Deafening, Blinding emotions blasted his brain without context. The deepest and truest of love. Agonizing despair in a change partners dance with bottomless fury.
As he grew older he slowly began to discern subtle nuances in the emotions, but it was like looking at the fireball and mushroom cloud to discern what had been stenciled on the casing of a hydrogen bomb.
Rarely did he have much more than guesses, at best it was like knowing a quarter of the words of an abstract poem. However he dreamed every night and Pistolâs mind was not a tool to be trifled with.
By the time he adopted Shane, Pistol could describe the whirlwind romance of young love, the joy of a new father holding his first child, and the despair at failing to save one dearly loved. There were images too, one terrified child comforting another in the darkness of the unknown, a cold blooded tyrant bleeding out, a courageous rescuer drowning in pain, and the most clear of all, a man in a trench coat with a pistol on a moonless night.
After he bought Sally, the dreams changed for the first time in his life, becoming much more focused on love, lust, romance, and companionship. Once Shane was in the picture, the dreams changed again, flitting back and forth between love and romance, and fury and pain.
Meanwhile, back at the plot
Pistol just stared at Shane.
âANSWAH SHANE!!!â Shaneâs voice cracked as he reached peak volume.
Pistol slowly crouched down, lowering himself to be face to face with Shane before he spoke softly.
âI know what you are.â
Shane was confused and taken aback. âWha dummeh mean wha Shane am?â
âYouâre a human, or at least you were supposed to be, and Iâm pretty sure I was supposed to be the fluffy.â
Shaneâs head tilted to the side in his confusion to such an angle that he actually fell over with a soft âoofâ.
âIâm also sure that as a human you hurt me, a lot, and since in our relationship the human is supposed to hurt the fluffy, I canât see any sense fighting it.â
âShane nu undastanâ The fluffy said as he got back to his feet.
âOh well, I guess I canât have EVERYTHING go right, but as far as losses go, your lack of understanding your fate is one that I can live with.â
Pistolâs words went in one of Shaneâs ears and out the other.
âOKAY, how about this- You hurt Sally, what do you have to say about that?â
Shane shuddered for a moment as his programming activated more strongly than ever before, and Shane was powerless to prevent himself from saying, âShane wa wowestest baddies. Nee many hewty wheew times.â
âthatâs a start, I think youâll start with five wheel spins and then weâll see where we go from there.â Pistol said as he carried Shane to the basement yet again.
The wheel came to a stop on â+ 1 day between poopiesâ, but Shane was too busy hiding behind his hooves to see.
âOh dear, that means that instead of pooping every day, you only get to make poopies every other day, thatâs going rough. Push the button again.â
Shaneâs face was a master class of misery and dread as he slowly got up and pushed the button again, only to hide behind his hooves yet again. The wheel eventually landed on âfront right leg, foot padâ.
âThatâs going to hurt you more than it hurts me, but lets finish with our button pushes before we start that one, PUSH IT AGAIN.â
Shaneâs belly was growling angrily at his inability to make scardy poopies due to his cork when the wheel landed on front âleft leg, foot padâ.
âIt sure seems like the wheel likes your hooves today. Push it againâ
Since Shane hadnât received immediate correction for delaying earlier, he grew bolder at this point and tried to object. This time his programming ran him at the wall again, where what remained of his horn fractured and fell away. Crying loudly, Shane made his way, looking defeated, over and pushed the button again.
This one just said âburns when you peeâ which Pistol wrote down before this time pushing the button himself by kicking Shane onto it.
Pistol slapped his knee with laughter. â+1 day between poopiesâ again? And this time you get high fiber food from now on, I love it. Lets take care of the others now.â
âSince you just finished hurting Sally with your horn and hoof-pads, itâs only fitting that your first punishment is to loose them. Youâve already taken care of your own horn, now for the hoof pads.â
With that, Pistol pulled out a scalpel and delicately skinned Shane of his hoof pads on both of his front feet, leaving slightly bleeding, sensitive and very painful tissue for Shane to walk on. The bottom of him was then dipped in hot sauce, setting his front feet feeling like they were aflame, and he was bucking back and forth when a generous helping of the hot sauce was injected directly into his penis. All the while, Shane never stopped screaming this, that, or whatever else crossed his mind.
âNow for the second part of your âhewty widdwe hoofiesâ punishment, the treadmill.â
Pistol pulled away a white sheet that had covered a ratty old treadmill. âAll you have to do Shane, is walk ten miles, doesnât have to be in a row, but you have to do at least a mile a day or your remaining distance doubles.â Pistol said as he poured salt onto the treadmillâs belt.