Previous: Saximaphone's Fluffy RP (Part 12)
I head on home and eagerly plan out my toy rotation in my head. I will introduce most of the new toys now, and explain that only a few will be there for the week. I’ll let them choose favourites and have those ones stay for the first rotation set. After that I’ll keep swaping toys for new ones each week. I’ll keep a few that seem to be favourites and substitute the rest with ones the fluffies ask for specifically, or at random thanks to this handy chart:
The ‘missed rotations’ value goes up every time it isn’t selected. When randomizing the selection those toys are weighted more. Making a game out of it seems fun and provides some randomness while still having the less popular toys getting some playtime for variety.
I wonder how they made out with their first day all alone with Tubby in charge…
“Hmph! Wai Tubbeh nu hab bigges heawt happies? Bestes babbeh nee bigges heawt happies!” he grumbles upon his spot at the top of the pile, “Tubbeh nee mowe nummies an toysies! An aww odah fwuffies wissen tu Tubbeh! Eben big dummeh owdah fwuffies wissen tu Tubbeh!”
He rolls off his high perch as the others begin to move around under him. He spots Cheese getting sleepily to his hooves and yawning, “Bestes sweepies… nee miwkies…” Tubby immediately snaps to focus and shoves the drowsy fluffy out of the way to make it to the milk first. He still wasn’t that hungry right now but he NEEDED to eat first. He takes a few swigs from the bottle and looks back to make sure the others were watching him take what was his.
To his disappointment, none of the other fluffies had woken up yet. Cheese had actually fallen BACK to sleep after being knocked over. Angrily, Tubby stomps off to find his feather stick to play with.
Wimpy is next to wake up. She smiled and coo’d from inside the fluffpile and squirmed her way out. She cheerfully heads to the milk bottle and spies the cat ball, now super-glued back together by her new daddy, “Daddeh fix baww! Wimpy pway wif baww aftah miwkies an gud poopies!” She hurries along to suckle for a short bit. It didn’t taste nearly as good as hamburgers, but was still good and very filling. She then trots off to make good pee-pees and poopies in the litter box.
Cheese yawns and wakes up for the second time this morning. His tummy was making owies. He went up and had his share of milk before noticing the fixed ball. He gasped, “Daddeh fix baww! Chee wan pway wif baww fo aww bwight-time!” He runs over and starts pushing it around gleefully, not noticing Wimpy coming back from her bathroom trip.
“Hey! Wimpy wan pway wif baww too!” She runs up and bumps it away from Cheese, “Wimpy tuwn! Wimpy say am pway wif baww fiwst!”
Cheese huffs, “Nu! Chee fine baww fiwst! Chee pway wif baww forebah!” Cheese starts to push the ball away from her towards the back wall. Wimpy runs after him and rams into his side! “Dummeh Chee fwuffy! Nu am pway wif baww! Wimpy pway wif baww!” The two of them go back and forth pushing and insulting each other.
Tubby has now grown angry. The feathers and string had broken off, leaving only a plastic stick for him to play with. It wasn’t very fun at all. He pushed it away and yelled at it, “Dummeh stick nu hab softie tings nu mowe! Am bad sticky! Tubbeh gib sowwy poopies to bad sticky!” Tubby proceeds to turn around and defecate over the stick. In his blind baby rage he completely forgets about being warned about ‘bad poopies’.
Satisfied with his display of dominance over the inanimate object, Tubby notices the other two squabbling over the now-fixed ball, “Hey! Tubbeh wan toysie! Baww am fo bestes babbeh!” He begins a clumsy waddling charge toward the other two.
The two happy meal fuffies are too busy trying to pull the ball away from the other. This is entirely unsuccessful because they are unable to grip it with their hooves at all. Their attempts at ‘pulling’ the ball away only result in them pushing it towards the other in a stalemate.
Fluffies are fucking stupid.
Tubby comes barreling down toward them, hollering towards the other babbehs. A few others wake up from the commotion to see Tubby ram head-first into the plastic ball, snapping it in half again.
“Owwiiiies! Bestes babbeh hab owies! Nee huggies an wub! Huuhuu…”
The other two pay no attention to his complaints and stare at the ball that has now been broken in half again.
“T-Tubbeh make baww into two haff baww!” exclaims Cheese.
“Nao Wimpy an Chee bowf hab toysies! Tank ou Tubbeh! Tubbeh am gud bestes babbeh!” Wimpy cheers, pushing her half of the ball to her play spot, “Nao we bof get daddeh’s nyu fixed baww!”
Tubby is confused for a moment, but Eros comes over to give him a hug, “Tubbeh am su smawt! Am gud babbeh!”
Tubby feels a bit of something he never felt before! Daddy gave him nice words but other fluffies didn’t! Maybe if he did things that made fluffies happy he would get more nice words and huggies and even nummies and toysies! He smugly parades around, basking in the glow of his new popularity.
The story is horrible and the acting is worse, but the charm is there and the fluffies watching are enjoying it. After it’s done I clap for them along with the other fluffies. The tiny poopie in my front pocket even stopped crying for the first time since I left the store. Maybe I’ll take my fluffies for a walk to see them sometime.
The teeny little baby performers push their tiny wagon back up the yard to their house and the other fluffies start pestering me for housies and nummies as homeless fluffies do. I politely decline them and head on home.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what really happened. Fluffies, especially foals, are easily fooled into believing anything. I will say that all the attention might make Tubby want to do some more nice things to benefit the rest of the herd. He might actually become a ‘smarty-friend’ eventually.
To be perfectly honest, as much as the idea of raising well-behaved and good-coloured fluffies seems profitable and fun, even from the beginning I was more interested in the experimentation. Choosing fluffies from different backgrounds wasn’t just for genetic variety I’ll admit. I really just wanted to see how they would interact with each other. Continuing to spoil Tubby and reinforcing his ‘bestest baby’ complex is just fun! He’s adorable like that and I really want to see how the others react.
I’ve decided to stop lying to myself. Training and breeding are important in this new little hobby of mine, but goddamn if I ain’t gonna have fun with the social experimentation along the way.
I notice the very smelly bad poopies on the stick. I immediately know who is behind it because nobody goes anywhere near it but Tubby. He makes sure of it.
“Who made bad poopies on the stick?” I say, raising my voice a bit. Tubby immediately freezes. The other fluffies looked confused and peered over at the stick. It’s VERY obvious who did it. I start talking again, “Somebody needs to tell me the truth. You all know how to use the litter box. Bad poopies are ten minutes in the sorry box,” nobody responds. Tubby is visibly nervous, “If nobody says anything, then I will cancel the next sketti day!” Now ALL the fluffies look nervous. Nobody had gotten the sorry box until now. They had taken pretty fast to training and I let a lot of the early mishaps slide. Now they’ve done it long enough that I can start the dreaded sorry box punishment.
Now Tubby had to think! He made the bad poopies! He didn’t want to get the sorry box for ten minutes! That’s almost one whole forever! Nobody else knows who did it so if he doesn’t say anything then they will all miss sketti day! No more special milkies! There’s only one way he can fix this.
“Tubbeh see scawy munstah babbeh make bad poopies!” Tubby shouts, pointing his hoof accusingly at Hastur.
Hastur of course can’t see the pointing but knows his title of ‘munstah babbeh’ too well “T-Tubbeh say Hastuw am bad poopie babbeh? H-hastur nu make bad poopies! Hastur use wittah boxie! Hastur am good babbeh an make gud poopies!”
I know Hastur is telling the truth. Not only is it obvious it was Tubby, but Hastur doesn’t go anywhere near that area of the room. He stays by the opposite wall so he can find the milk, and of course, the litter box.
“Tubby, Hastur said he didn’t do it. Are you sure it was him?”
“Um…” he looks super nervous now. The other fluffies are all looking at him. I think they suspect he’s lying as well.
“Are you lying to me? If you are, you will get in BIG trouble,” I say, shaking my finger at him.
“T-Tubbeh nu wie! Munstah babbeh make bad poopies! It twue!” He blurts out, afraid of punishment obviously. Fluffies don’t normally think very far ahead and always go for instant gratification by default. It takes some training to get a fluffy to consider future consequences, and even then some of them don’t catch on. Hastur is starting to cry at this point, being accused of something he didn’t do. The older foals seem to be very wary of Tubby now. They probably suspect that he’s lying. The younger ones are too naive to really understand.
“Well if you say he did, I trust you Tubby,” I pick up Hastur and pull a little shoebox out of the tub of supplies in the saferoom. Hastur of course begins flailing and crying.
“B-babbeh nu wike bad upsies! Daddeh pwease put babbeh down! Nu am bad poopie babbeh!” he panics as I gently place him inside and close the lid. I put the box on top of the Rubbermaid container. His muffled wails carry down to the other babies.
The younger ones start to look a little scared and worried. The older ones are glancing sideways at Tubby. Tubby looks a lot more relaxed now that he’s not being drilled into. In fact he looks a bit smug about it.
The wailing starts up the chirpy in my pocket again and diverts the foals’ attention.
“What am dat, daddeh? Am nyu babbeh?” asks Truffle.
I smile, grabbing the bag of toys I brought with me, “That is one of the new toys I brought! And the rest are in here!”
The fluffies immediately forget about Hastur and crowd around me, Squishy whining from her spot on the bed about not being able to see or move.
“Hold on!” I lift the bag higher the bag higher, “I need to sort them out and then clean up the bad poopies. I’m going to get rid of the old broken toys too. Go wait in the bed and I’ll be right there.”
I sort out the toys, keeping the Yu-Gi-Oh and Magic cards out of rotation for this time because the pictures might be too scary at first. I do the same with the MetalGreymon toy. They’ll make it in, just not right off the bat. I’m also not going to put the picture frame in until I can take a picture of myself to insert into it. I take the wailing chirpy out of my pocket. Man it looks so sad and pathetic. Tubby will love him! I know how cruel it might sound but I’m really excited about giving it to him.
I carry the toys in and Tubby runs up to my feet, “Daddeh bwing toysies fo bestes babbeh! Tubbeh wan toysies fiwst!”
I grin, “I got you EXACTLY what you wanted, Tubby!” I hold out my closed fist.
“Weawwy?! Daddeh find dummeh nu-weggie toysie fo Tubbeh?!” I open my hand and reveal the sniffling blubbering shit-coloured chirpy, his still-closed eyes leaking tears of hunger and fear. Tubby gasps and pulls the screaming foal off my hand onto the hard wood floor by his tail with his mouth, “Tank ou Daddeh! Daddeh am bestes daddeh! Bwing bestes toysie fo bestes babbeh!” He enthusiastically hugs the poor thing tightly, making it panic a bit with the scent of a strange fluffy and sudden pressure around him. The other fluffies look confused.
“What are you gonna name it, Tubby?” I ask him, genuinely curious about what my spoiled boy will call his new morally-questionable plaything.
“Tubbeh gib namesie fo toysie?! Tubbeh caww toysie ummm Wil Poopie!” he grins and wiggles the little guy around with this hooves, “Wook Daddeh! Wil Poopie am dancie poopie!” The baby just continues to cry in response. Tubby pays no attention to this.
I take out the other toys and lay them out for the remaining foals. Tubby eagerly runs up to each one and attempts to play with it first before running immediately to the next one. He finally decides to go back to playing with Lil Poopie again.
Surprisingly the fluffies aren’t afraid of the gun or being shot at. I don’t actually hit them with any darts today so I’m not sure how they will react to actually being HIT by one. I want to ease them into the new stuff first.
It’s good to see Squishy taking a liking to some of the toys. Finding something to stimulate a pillowfluff that isn’t just sticking them in front of a TV is difficult. Having friends to play with her also helps tremendously. She loves the colourful and wholesome Pokemon cards, so I wonder how she’ll react to the more mature and frightening Yu-Gi-Oh and Magic cards.
The smaller ball is a very bouncy rubber one throughout their playing today and their weak pushes they didn’t manage to get it to bounce much at all. It will be interesting to see what happens when they do finally see it go!
After his time is up I take Hastur out of the sorry box. He was quiet for most of the time he was in there. He wasn’t as distressed as other foals would be because of his blindness. The crippling nyctophobia and claustrophobia normally exhibited by fluffies has no effect on a fluffy that lives its whole life in the dark and can’t see the scary foreboding walls. If he hadn’t been told it was a punishment, he probably would have enjoyed his stay. Alas, he was very grumpy when coming out. I don’t blame him. I’d be grumpy too if I got punished for something I didn’t do. I feel guilty about it, but the opportunity to teach Tubby about the downfalls of lying and manipulation was too tempting to pass up.
I pluck him from the box as he screams and flails. He calms down as his hooves touch the floor, as usual, then mutters,“Dummeh Tubbeh… Hatchu…” barely wheezing out the words. He cheers up a bit as I present him with the hat and the Putin doll. These toys were untouched by the other fluffies because they weren’t as exciting and colourful as the others, but everything is the same to Hastur. All he feels is a cozy mobile hiding place and a stuffy-friend to cuddle since nobody else will, “Tank ou fo nices toysies Daddeh! Hastew wub stuffy-fwen an smaww housie!”
I give him a pet and check up on the dice-rolling alicorns. At first I was surprised that they could count as well as they could. Alicorns are smart, but I didn’t think they would be that smart at such a young age! After watching for a bit though, I realize that while they can roll and count the dots on the dice, their counting still gets a little mixed up after four, and they often forget the numbers they rolled on their way to the fluffy they want to hug. They don’t seem to care though and just hug however much they want. Neither of them hug Tubby.
I make sure to give out rules for the toys. I tell them that some of the toys would be going away next week, but some will stay and the other ones will come back later, including new ones they haven’t seen. They all nod but I know none of them really got the concept. I also told them that if they break a toy by accident I will try and fix it. If I can’t fix it, it will go away forever. If they are trying to break the toys on purpose they will get the sorry box and I will take the toy away. I tell them that water is bad for cards, which they understood very well because of their own aversion to water. No toys are allowed in the litter box except Lil Poopie.
I then made the rule that could very well flip the entire herd upside-down, “Lil Poopie needs to use the litter box. You babies need to take him there or clean up the mess if he makes one. If Lil Poopie is makes too many bad poopies or bad peepees I will take him away from you.”
I keep all the toys out for the rest of the week. During this time Tubby spends a lot of it with Lil Poopie. He’s facinated with rolling him around, hugging him, tickling him, pushing him and kicking him. For the most part Lil Poopie enjoys the attention, but is often scared or confused by what is going on or hurt when Tubby is too rough with him (which is often). It’s very obvious that the tiny foal is a runt. He’s maybe one of the smallest runts I could imagine. He was so malnourished and underdeveloped that even after a week he hasn’t opened his eyes completely yet. I’ve seen him barely try and lift them, but nothing more than a little peek so far.
Tubby has figured out that a chirpy-baby with a full tummy rolls better. Before he plays with Lil Poopie, he always has him eat as much milkies as he can. This would be great except he ONLY feeds him when he wants to roll him around, and when he does get fed he is OVER fed as Tubby tries to get as much milk into his tiny mouth as he can, causing him to whine with tummy owies which of course Tubby is oblivious to.
Lil Poopie’s tiny tummy hasn’t adjusted to this fasting/gorging diet yet so he gets big tummy owies and cries when he’s about to make poopies. Eros noticed that when Lil Poopie starts crying, scrunching up and concentrating real hard, he’s ready for the litter box. Eros has tried to stay on top of this, but Tubby is very selfish with his toy and won’t let anyone touch it if he sees them around. Eros has made a few ‘potty rescues’ while Tubby is busy demanding or stealing other toys.
Now the situation sounds really fucked up don’t get me wrong, but Lil Poopie seems mostly pretty happy like this. Aside from the constipation, infrequent and too big meals and far too rough play for a little baby, he seems to be quite happy. This is still leagues better than his previous position. It’s also devilishly interesting to observe. I do keep tabs on him to make sure he isn’t hurt or too sick of course. Having fun with questionable social experiments is fun and helps distract me from the fact that I have no idea what I’m doing as a breeder.
Now for the drama.
As you can guess, Eros is able to show and explain the signs of ‘Lil Poopie poopies’ to Truffle. Any of the younger fluffs are just not able to get it. It’s also hard enough for Tubby to kick, push and roll him over to the feeding bottle, let alone up the ramp to the litter box. Getting him up there requires hard work (which none of the talkies are willing to do) or one of the two bigger fluffs to carry him up with their mouths. HOWEVER as I explained before Eros is only able to do this a few times while Tubby isn’t looking. This means 90% of the time there is a bathroom accident somewhere in the saferoom, and the distinct hard stool makes it obvious that it’s Lil Poopie.
So why have I not taken Lil Poopie away yet? Well if you recall, Tubby has found out that he was able to lie to me and blame Hastur for his earlier bad poopie. To make sure that he keeps his prized toy without actually taking responsibility for it, he has taken to blaming Lil Poopies illegal bowel movements on other foals. Hastur, Truffle and Squishy have all been targets of this multiple times this week. Every time Tubby swears it’s the truth, and gets even more comfortable with lying to my face. He’s not nervous at all now.
As you can guess, the other fluffies have all caught on to Tubby’s lying cheating ways and have become resentful towards him. They stay far away from him and Lil Poopie so they aren’t the next one to be blamed. Tubby doesn’t seem to care as long as he has his favourite toy.
Tensions are VERY high as we reach the weekend of the big fluffy park event.
[[Interactive portion! We are going to the big fluffy event in the park! Eros is my designated “bingo fluffy” because he’s smart enough to poop in a different spot each time ;p
How does the event go? What happens to my babies? Do they meet new friends or enemies there? How do the tensions between Tubby and the rest of the herd resolve?]]
