(Inspired by Write a smol story 2 (InfraredTurbine))
“Mewwy Chwismas!” exclaimed the foal as it emerged from the box, surrounded by torn wrapping paper and bows. It was a dark smokey grey fluffy, with a bright cyan mane and tail, wearing a little santa hat.
The little grey colt could sense, in the back of what passed for its mind, that something was wrong. The tension was so thick in the air you could have cut it with a knife.Rather than the happy smiling faces it somehow knew to expect, it was greeted by three scowling ones.
Steven was struggling to conceal the rage bubbling up inside him. He could already tell this wasn’t going well. His teenage son and daughter, meanwhile, glared at the fluffy with open disgust and disinterest.
“Really dad, a fluffy?” His son shook his head.
“Well, I just thought…” Steven didn’t even get to finish before his daughter cut him off.
“It’s not even got good colors. Ugh. Can we go back to Mom’s now?”
“Fwuffy w…” The little grey colt trailed off, looking between the three, as he realized none of them were paying attention anymore. Front legs that had started to raise in the hope of good upsies slowly fell back down, as Steve stormed out of the room. His children followed, with huffing and rolling of eyes.
The little grey colt was alone. Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes, a soft ‘hu hu’ filling the air. Sitting underneath the tree, still wrapped, were the rest of the presents. The litter box, where good peepees and poopies should go. A comfy bed. Food and water bowls, as well as a bag of kibble. Some toys. Everything first time fluffy owners needed. Untouched,and unwanted. Just like the little grey colt.
Eventually, Steven returned. The little grey colt tried his luck, looking up at the man hopefully “New Daddeh? Fwuffy nee’ namsie an’ littewbox an’ …”
“Shut the fuck up!” Steven roared, the little grey colt letting out a string of scaredy peeps as he jumped behind the box he had arrived in. He peered around it, watching as Steven continued to scream at him. “I’m not your fucking daddy, you worthless shitrat! The kids were supposed to want to stay here, to be with you! You couldn’t even do the one fucking thing I got you for! As soon as the store opens after Christmas, you’re going right back!”
And then he stormed off, leaving the little grey colt a sobbing shivering mess. “Hu hu hu, Why new famiwy so meanies? Why no wuv gud fwuffy? Fwuffies are for huggies an’ wuv! Fwuffy nee’ namesie and littewbox and nummies! Fwuffy nee’ toysies! Fwuffy suuuu hungwy. Fwuffy hav’ biggest saddies. Huhuhuhuhuhuhu!”
Eventually the little grey colt pulled himself together long enough to make a little nestie out of the abandoned wrapping paper, before falling asleep sobbing quietly as he suckled one of his front hooves in a desperate search for comfort.
When the little grey colt woke up, everything was dark. He was as alone and unwanted as when he went to sleep. A mixture of sadness and fear began to wash over him, before he was distracted by the Christmas tree in the corner. Still plugged in, the multicolored lights sparkled in the darkness. Their gleam illuminated the tinsel, and the round glass baubles in a variety of colors.
The little grey colt was so entranced he forgot to be sad, or afraid. Closer and closer he crept to the beautiful sight, his leathery little hooves tapping softly on the hardwood floor.
And then, when he was almost entirely under the tree, he saw it. There, peering down at him from one of the pretty glass baubles on the very bottom branches of the tree, was another fluffy! A dark smokey grey fluffy, with a bright cyan mane and tail, wearing a little santa hat.
“Nyu fwen’?” The little grey colt asked, reaching up toward the other fluffy. The other fluffy didn’t say anything, but he could see it reaching back. He was so close to huggies. Huggies made everything better.
The little grey colt stood all the way up on his rear legs, reaching upward with his front legs. Stretching allllllll the way up until he was on the very tippies of his hooves.He reached and he reached and he reached and…
CRASH!
Suddenly the other fluffy was gone, and the little grey colt found himself sitting on his rump surrounded by broken shards of glass bauble. Two glass baubles to be exact. For a moment, he was too stunned to move or make any noise. And then he began to wail. “Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!”
The lights flicked on, and there was Steven standing in the doorway. He was swaying, and reeked of a scent that the little grey colt didn’t recognize and didn’t like. He stormed over to the fluffy, demanding “What the fuck did you do?”
“Fwuffy nu’ know! Fwuffy nu’ mean to! Fwuffy just wan’ huggies from other fwuffy…” The little grey colt began to babble, sensing the danger by the look on Steven’s face. He struggled up to sit on his rump, holding out his front legs in the upsies pose.
“What the fuck are you talking about? There’s no other fluffies here, shitrat. And you broke two of my baubles. So now we need two more for the tree.” Steven smirked cruelly down at the little grey colt, as an idea even better than returning it entered his head.
“Wha’…wha’ am bawbaws?” The little grey colt kept up the pose, hoping against hope Steven would relent and pick him up.
“Those little decorations hanging on the tree you smashed.” Steven growled. “And I don’t have any more. So we’ll have to put your baubles on the tree instead.”
“Fwuffy nu’ have bawbaws.” The little grey colt whined, confusion evident in his voice.
“Oh yes you do.” Steven smirked. “I’m talking about your balls. Your nuts. The little furry pompoms below your dick. Whatever the fuck you stupid little creatures call them.”
It finally dawned on the little grey colt, and his front legs quickly dropped. “Nuuuuuuuuu! Nu take speshuw wumps! Fwuffy nee’ spewush wumps! Fwuffy find nice mistuh other bawbaw. Fwuffy…” The little grey colt looked around desperately as he begged and pleaded. His front hooves tapped together nervously, a subconscious begging gesture, as huge tears pooled in the corner of his eyes and began to roll down his cheeks. The little santa hat still sat upon his head, adding a festive air of absurdity to the image.
But it was too late, and all the begging and pleading was in vain. “SCREEEEEEEEEEEE! BAD UPSIES! NU’ WAN’!” the little grey colt screamed as Steven lunged like a snake, knocking him off his rump so that he could snatch the fluffy up the tail, the little santa hat going flying.
Dangling upside down, the little grey colt could do nothing but scream and make scaredy pees and poops. Unfortunately, gravity hates fluffies as much as most people and so the foul smelling mixture of yellows and browns flowed downward, adding a pattern of disgusting colors to the smokey grey fluff. Some of it even got in the little grey colt’s mouth and eyes, temporarily muffling his protests.
“You really are a little shitrat, huh?” Steven chuckled. He was too drunk and bitter and angry to be truly disgusted, despite the smell. Caught up in finally having an outlet, and the plan he had in his head. Later, when he had to clean the floor, he’d regret it. He stomped into the kitchen, still dangling the little grey colt by the tail as it chirped and peeped and babbled about speshuw wumps and nu’ smell pretty and nu’ taste pretty.
“Deck the halls with balls of fluffies, fa la la la la, la la la la!” Steven sang drunkenly, doing his best to drown the creature out. From the kitchen, he first retrieved some string. He tied it tightly around the base of the tail and cut it free, now dangling the fluffy by the string instead of directly by the tail. Next, he grabbed a small paring knife, before stomping back to the living room and the Christmas tree. Using the other end of the string, he tied the little grey colt to one of the branches. The foal flailed and swung as it hung upside down, the pressure around the base of its tail sending waves of agony through its’tiny body. “Now you’re an ornament too. Ready to give me your baubles?”
“Nuuuuuu!” The little grey colt cried. “Nu touch fwuffy’s speshuw wumps! Nu touch! Fwuffy wan’ speshuw wumps! Fwuffy nee’ speshuw wumps! Fwuffy am on’y wittwe babbeh! Fwuffy hatechu! HATECHU!” The angry screaming was cut off as Steven reached out and grasped the little grey colt’s scrotum, beginning to pull it away from his body to get good clearance from the knife. “SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
Steven wanted to draw the process out, but there was really no way too. The foal was just too small. A single slice of the knife severed the scrotum from the rest of the body.
“WOWSTEST HUWTIES! WOWSTEST HUTWIES! SPESHUW WUMPS HAV’ WOWSTEST HUWTIES! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” The screaming eventually died off and was replaced with a mixture of huus and chirps and peeps, occasional sobbed words escaping. Holding up the bloody severed scrotum to the little grey colt;s eye level, Steven smirked, “See, your baubles will look so pretty on the tree.” He told the fluffy mockingly, before reaching down to hang them on the bottom branches where the now broken ornaments had been.
Stepping back to admire his handiwork,Steven watched the foal twitch and struggle as the blood flow issues from being upside down for too long shock started to set in. “Fwuffy hatechu. Hate Chwismas. Fwuffy jus’ wan’ famiwy an’ huggies an’ luv an’ namsie. Fwuffy nu’ know wat do wrong. Fwuffy am only wittwe babbeh. Huuuuuu. Huuuuuuuuu.” The little grey colt whispered quietly as it sobbed.
“Oh, you still want a ‘namsie’ after all that? Sure, I’ll give you a namsie. It is Christmas, after all.” Steven’s eyes betrayed that his cruel intent, but the little grey colt couldn’t help himself. Even dangling upside down from a Christmas tree, covered in his own piss and shit, bleeding from the spot where his freshly severed special lumps used to be, his unnatural instincts were too strong to resist.
“Fwuffy…fwuffy wan; new namsie!” The little grey colt even managed to sound enthusiastic.
“I’m gonna call you Someday.” Steven could barely keep the laughter out of his voice.
“Fwuffy is Someday?” The little grey colt’s eyes had a faint glow of hope. He couldn’t help himself. Something deep in his brain told him that now the human had named him, they would be his new daddy. And daddies gave hugs. And hugs made everything better.
But it was not to be. “Yes, you’re Someday. Because…” Steven finally hit the punchline, belting out the strains of the Creedence Clearwater Rival song. “Someday, Someday never comes!” The singing died off, replaced by a hateful grin. “And after what I did to you, neither will you.”
Steven stormed off, the last flicker of hope extinguishing in the little grey colt as he dangled. The alcohol, along with the drop from the adrenaline wearing off, finally got the best of Steven. He collapsed on the couch, drifting off to sleep in the sparkling lights of the Christmas tree with the soft huuuing of the dying little grey colt playing on the edges of his hearing like the strains of a carol on Christmas eve.