You’re welcome. I noticed some of the formatting to indicate MC’s thoughts didn’t save over. I tried to fix some of the errors. Did I miss something? Probably. Am I ever going to fix it? Probably not.
Part 1: Lost And Found
Another cold and miserable day, Robert thinks to himself. Winter has been especially harsh this year. Record setting snow fall. Record setting temperatures. It’s been miserable. While he can find sanctuary inside his home, the animals are left to suffer. Of course the only suffering he sees is the brightly colored fluffies frozen in the white snow. This thought is brief and fleeting as he starts his car. Next time, he muses, remote start and heated seats.
Robert ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Another typical day at work. Get this done. Get that done. Why isn’t this done faster? Why didn’t you assume that needed to be done yesterday even if you only received it today? For only being in his early 30s his hair is peppered with grey. Mouse clicks and keyboard taps pour from his office as faster than the coffee rushes in.
Smash! A box of books crashes on his desk startling Robert. “Robert, man. You need a hobby. You need a drink. Maybe a vacation? Stop stressing. Get a pet. Get a girlfriend.” Dave just grins. It’s the usual Thursday pep talk from the boss. His boss wasn’t exactly wrong. Robert was single. Didn’t have many hobbies, nor could he adequately argue that sitting on the internet watching cartoons was a hobby. Drinking wasn’t out of the question, but Robert has been a responsible adult and kept his drinking to a minimum during the week. Vacations were rare and he spent them doing household chores.
“You know, boss. That’s a great idea!” Robert smiles. Why not call his bluff? “I think I’ll take a few days off. Let’s see, it’s 4ish on a Thursday, right? Since you offered, I’ll take tomorrow off. A nice long three day weekend. “
“Uh,” Dave stumbles. Robert never took the bait and never pushed back with the usual ribbing. “Well…”
“You’re the best, boss. I’ll see you Monday!” he jumped, his coat on before hitting the door. His flabbergasted boss just standing there. That’ll never work again! He thought. Of course it would. His boss would forget, his boss always forgot. Sure, he’ll catch some flak for it come Monday, but he was free! Free!
It was still cold out. And after the nearly hour drive in rush hour traffic it was dark as well. In his hands was dinner in the Styrofoam container in his left, his keys in the right. In the dim light, falling in the shadows from his nearly burnt out porch light, was a small bundle of blue and green. A fluffy pony. A baby fluffy pony, tiny as a mouse. Curled and tucked tightly into the corner where the walls met, one of the few places without snow.
Another dead fluffy. Poor baby. Robert had nothing against fluffies. Sure, they were a man-made disaster. But they could be cute. From his travels on the internet he knew of the joy people received from torturing them, but also how damn adorable they could be. His key jingled and his door made a loud suction as it opened and then a faint “….mummah…”
The fluffy wasn’t dead! Robert quickly dropped his stuff inside the door and he gently scooped up the baby. Retreating to the warmth inside, he peered out. No tracks in the snow. No idea how the foal ended up on his porch, but he wasn’t about to play detective for such a small mystery. What did intrigue him is how this foal survived by itself for so long. Did he really want to keep it? Sure, he’s had cats and dogs and birds, but a fluffy was almost like a child. A bio-engineered ”dumb as a box of rocks (hey, don’t insult boxes of rocks, they have feelings)” toy that can talk. Robert didn’t even consider what would happen as he stared down at the little ball of fur in his hands.
Deep blue with a forest green mane and tail. Even tiny, tiny wings. The foal was breathing, but very faintly. It’s eyes were not open, but was that from age or from nearly dying? He knew there was a huge chance this baby wouldn’t make it, be he would still try. Robert was no hugboxer, but he was also no abuser, as much as you can abuse a toy. Swiftly Robert made his way to the kitchen sink. Heat. And really, the foal could use a bath, it’s short fur matted with mud, piss and shit.
Robert worked the foal under the water, tail first, making sure to avoid getting its head under. Softly he could hear murmurs and chirps coming from the foal along with it feebly struggling against the water. He persisted in washing and warming the baby and discovered it was in fact a female. Well, she survived this long. Get her washed and then some food. He lingered with her body under the water, hoping the extended contact would warm the frail foal. He left the foal on the counter to dry, wrapped in a towel. The bundle sat inside of a bowl while he searched for some sort of food.
Necessity is the mother of invention. Robert ground up some fresh oatmeal, added milk and a dash of sugar and heated it in the microwave. The timer, or maybe the smell awoke the baby.
Chirp! “Mummah! Miwk!” chirp!
Such noise from such a small creature. Robert took a seat and set the foal between his legs. It was kind of cute how she struggled to free herself. The foal continued to chirp as it sniffed at the air, no longer calling out for family. Gingerly he used an eyedropper to feed the mixture into her mouth. Greedily she ate it up, her head and neck bobbing reminiscent of how birds feed.
An ounce of milk and oatmeal and sugar later, the baby curled into a ball in the towel on his lap and slept. This morning Robert had no intention of getting a pet. Nor did that include nursing it back to life. Time for some research! He pulled over his tablet and went to work. Food, toys, blankets, bed, litterbox and litter. A sorry box, a sorry stick, more food. Eventually some canned spaghetti. If she survives then fluffyproof the house and make a safe room.
He looked at the clock and realized it was still early in the evening. Early enough to go shopping for all the necessary supplies. He left the foal curled in the towel and placed it inside a deep bowl, much too big and steep for her to escape. With that he made his way to the door, excited about his new fluffy.
Hmm… What to name her?
Part 2: Not Da Mummah!
Robert returned home to the shrill chirping and begging of his new fluffy foal. She was a deep blue Pegasus with a dark green mane and tail. She was also nearly dead when he found her freezing outside. A hot bath and warm food and some sleep seems to have revived her faster than he expected. Robert hadn’t expected much, as he would not have been shocked to have found the small foal dead upon returning.
Chirp! Chirp! “Mummah! Chirp Miwk!”
Over and over. And over and over.
He could see how torturing them is a hobby. Hell, he probably would’ve abandoned her too. He towered over the bowl which safely held the foal. Her eyes were open now, and with her size he guessed her at four or five days old. She stared at him. Her deep green eye staring directly into his own. “I’m not your mummah.”
“Mummah!” The chirps became more frantic as the foal scrambled as best she could to the wall of the bowl.
“Your mom abandoned you. She didn’t want you.” Robert said softly as his fingers closed around the foal’s body. Such a small and soft body. “I’m your daddy, now.” The foal, from nature or from programming knew that word. Maybe it was even his scent, as if she knew he saved her. But she calmed down and again stared into his eyes.
The calm did not last long, unfortunately. CHIRP! “DADDEH MIWK!” CHIRP! This will not do, not at all. Well… he though at the little ball of blue and green fuzz, today it’ll work.
“Okay, okay.” Leaving her in the bowl he made another mixture of actual fluffy foal food. He held the foal on her back in one hand, her tiny hooves twitching in the air as he fed her with his free hand. “For now,” Robert began while feeding his new fluffy, “you’re gonna stay with me. I wouldn’t mind a pet and some company. Besides, you’re kinda….” His words trailed off as the foal happily defecated onto his hand. Needed more room for food? He heard they are shit machines. “Guess it’s time for another bath.”
Becoming accustomed to handling the foal now, he not so gently shoved her backside under the water. The shock of the warm water brought an unbelievable volume from such a tiny body. Shrieks and chirps punctuated by “Nu!” Wings and legs flailing! He unceremoniously placed her back on the towel and dried her off again. She looked dejected, her damp tail between her legs. Fluffies don’t like water and they especially don’t like baths.
The foal, calm now, plopped down on the towel and gazed at Robert with her half closed eyes. It was time to set up her new bed and home. Robert set the bundle, towel and foal and all, into a shallow box. The box, along with several other boxes and bags from his recent shopping excursion ended in up in the bedroom to create his temporary fluffy home.
A two foot by two foot box sat on the floor, inches from the bed. The walls were much too high for her to escape. Inside was a small rodent water bottle, no dish of water, didn’t want the baby to drown. A heating rock for lizards wrapped with soft towels and topped with a bright yellow blanket. Half of the box was the new temporary litter box.
Robert sat on the floor next to her new home. He lifted her out of the bowl, she just squirmed happily, “wub daddeh!” She exclaimed, hugging his fingers. Her wings flapping, her tail wagging. They sat there as the minutes went by as he pet and fed attention to his new addition as she hugged and bounced in his hand. Eventually he set her down on her new bed.
“I don’t know if you understand me… “ Robert points, “That’s litter. You go poopie in there. Not on yourself. Not on your blanket.” The foal just tilts her head. Is she playing dumb? “There is water in there,” he taps on the bottle, demonstrating. “And this is your bed. Nice and warm.” He pats the blanket wrapped heating stone. She just hugs onto his hand mumbling about “Wub daddeh.”
“Bedtime, little girl.” Robert announced standing and pulling his hand away.
The foal sat back reaching up with her tiny hooves. “Daddeh!”
“Wub! Daddeh!” Her hooves waving in the air.
“Bedtime. “ He gave her a quick pet and walked away to prepare for bed. The lamp now the only illumination, the only noise her whimpers for her new daddy. That night Robert went to sleep with his arm hanging to the floor, the baby fluffy curled against his hand. “Good night, Angel.”
Part 3: Hug Box To Sorry Box
The next few days went by easier and much harder, than anticipated. Fluffies need attention. Baby fluffies, even more so. Angel grew fast. She also learned fast. Not pooping in the litter got her a small (not to her) bop on the nose. That took only a day for the lesson to sink in.
Angel also was talking much more now. Mostly it was “Wub Daddeh!” or “Baww!” “Nummies! Miwk!” “Huggies!”
Of course when she pooped her blanket or herself she was disciplined with a flick to the nose, and if particularly messy a shower as well. Both of these brought about the “Nuuuu! Babbeh nu wike wawa!” Or “Nu owies!” “Sowwy Daddeh!” None of this lasted long as a quick bout of hugging and petting fixed her right up.
Robert knew that eventually he’d need to really discipline his fluffy. It was just the way these things learned. This was why he bought the sorry stick and sorry box after all. Thankfully the box was a fully adjustable one with folding sides. No need to buy more than one as this could accommodate a fluffy twice the size of a normal adult fluffy, and one as small as… Angel.
Today was a lazy day for Robert. He sat on his couch idly surfing the interwebs on his tablet while the television droned on about one political disaster or another. Angel was cheerfully playing with Robert’s hand, jumping and rolling around as he tickled her blue fur. Not really paying attention to Angel, he didn’t realize she stopped playing. The smell was unmistakable.
Robert saw the pile and Angel sitting in it. “Dammit, Angel. I told you to say something! Bad fluffy!” He snatched up his filthy pony, pile of shit and all in one hand. He took a deep breath, not wanting to scare any more crap out of her, “What were you supposed to do, Angel?”
“Teww daddeh. Make gud poopies in witta box.” She sniffled. She actually sniffled. There were no tears, but the suspicion of manipulation was planted in his brain.
“What happens when you don’t listen to me?”
Her ears drooped, “Nose fwicked and a baff?”
“That’s close.” He flicked her nose, harder than he ever had before, which isn’t saying much as he never caused her pain before. Now there were real tears.
“Nuuu…. Nuuu owies! Gud fwuffy!”
“Nope, you gotta learn.” Suddenly Angel was face to face with a small sorry box. She started shaking and pissed herself. “You’re only making this worse for yourself. You’re staying in this box, covered in your piss and shit. Only when you’ve learned you can’t poop anywhere will I let you out.” With that he shoved her into the tiny opening. She fought, as much as a fluffy can. She screamed and chirped as much as a fluffy can. Finally Robert had to shove her in, pushing on her head and smearing the shit and piss into her fur. “And after you’re ready to be a good fluffy, you’re getting a bath.”
“NUUUU! Am gud fwuffy! Nu poopies!” Her babbling continued on. It only took several minutes before she was whimpering for her “daddeh” and “sowwy.” Robert stood out of her line of sight, listening to her crying and chirping.
He walks away, turning off the light and closing the door behind him. She’s so quiet now that not even a muffled chirp is heard through the door. The next half hour is spent preparing for giving her a bath and feeding her the baby fluffy formula. And of course cleaning the couch.
Robert returned to a mostly quiet fluffy. “Do you know why you are in the box?” He asked as he kneeled down, his face level with her head.
“Fwuffy made bad poopies.” She was visibly shaking, being in such a contorted standing position would have to hurt. “Nu smeww pwetty! Fwuffy sowwy. chirp! Wub daddeh. “ She started to whine, “Daddeh wub fwuffy?” Tears mixing with the shit in her fur. “Nu poopie wike dat again.”
Angel nearly burst from the box except for Robert holding her back. “First, a bath. Then dinner. Then maybe hugs.”
“NU! Daddeh gib huggies nao!”
CHIRP! Followed by her baby screams as he smacked her on the rear. Hard enough to hurt the 10 day old foal. Swiftly he shoved her back in the box. “You will stay in there all night and think about what you did and what you said.”
The door closed quietly behind him, the click of the latch drowned out by fluffy cries for help.
Part 4: A lesson learned
The next morning Robert reheated her milk mixture. No point in making it fresh, his blue and green baby fluffy is getting punished. He knew it was a battle of wills at this point. He couldn’t back down. This was his, “I’m going to own a chimpanzee and have to fight it when it reaches sexual maturity otherwise it will rape and beat me,” moment. Really? I need to get some friends. Or a friend. Or a girlfriend. Or a fluffy…
He made no grand gestures or made any overtly affectionate motions towards Angel in the sorry box. He silently opened it and pulled her out. She was shaking, her tiny blue wings fluttering. She smelled awful and must’ve shit herself again in the night as her rear was completely covered in brown filth.
chirp “daddeh… hewp… “ chirp
Much like the first time he washed Angel, he just held her under the running tap water. Not scalding hot water, but warm enough to wash her waste from her fur. The hard part was washing the shit out of her face and mane without drowning her. Thankfully he did not end up with a dead pony, but instead a wiggling and very unhappy but very clean fluffy.
“Angel, are you hungry?”
She looked up with her sad green eyes, “yesh, daddeh…” She spoke quietly. She knew she was still in trouble. “Wub daddeh,” and she tried to hug at his hand. Angel only met resistance and food. Robert fed her again like she was a baby. She was, but she has already learned to eat out of a bowl.
“I love you too, Angel. Now, eat.” He fed her silently, her hooves holding onto the sides of the eyedropper full of food.
She must have been starving as she ate several ounces of the formula. She was already much bigger than she was just a few days ago. Robert pondered the incredible initial growth rate for a fluffy, in just another 10 days she should be fully grown. Her bed and box set up had already been converted into a full time litter box and she has her own basket bed with the heating stone underneath. Even so, she still begs every night to sleep next to her “daddeh.”
“Daddeh…? Am fuww.” Her ears and wings twitched, “huggies time nao? Pwease daddeh?”
“Do you know why you were in the sorry box?” Robert held her firmly in his hand forcing her to stare at him.
“Fwuffy made bad poopies. Fwuffy den boss daddeh.” Her eyes tearing up again.
“That’s right. Will you do that again?”
“Nu…. Wub daddeh!” She held out her tiny fluffy legs, wiggling her tiny fluffy hooves begging for a hug which Robert quickly and happily obliged. After several minutes of disgustingly cute and adorable fluffy hugging, Robert set her down. She pranced around his legs, her dark green mane and tail dancing with her. He tossed one of her favorite balls into the living room and she went running, that would keep her occupied for a good solid hour. His thoughts migrated back to his friends and girlfriend, or lack thereof. Maybe it was time to fix that?
Angel played like the young fluffy pony she is as Robert started dialing this phone. Time for a date! “Mary? It’s Robert!”
“Got any plans on Friday? It’s been forever since we last hit up a bar.”
“Great! My place or yours?
“Sounds good. I’ll see you Friday!”
Well, Robert thought to himself, that wasn’t nearly as hard as I expected.
Part 5: Now, that’s funny right thur
Friday rolls around fairly fast for Robert. He works. He sleeps. He takes care of his two week old fluffy pony named Angel. She’s a deep blue color with a dark green mane and tail. A Pegasus with tiny wings on her back. She’s gotten quite big now and has begun to eat normal food. If this were spring or summer, Robert would toss her outside for a few hours to let her eat grass, but it is still chilly and everything is white outside.
Well, not everything. Robert ponders. All those frozen to death fluffies I drive past sure stick out with their neon fluff. Once the snow starts to melt it will look like a white polka-dotted sheets fitted nicely to a bed.
“Daddeh!” Angel looked up at Robert, a slight irritation in her eyes. He wasn’t listening to her again. “Fwuffy needs nummies!” She stopped quickly and took a few steps back, “Sowwy, daddeh.” She lowered her head, “Pwease nummie time?”
“Sure, Angel.” He ran his fingers through her thick fluff as he walked to the kitchen. Angel padded behind him. Her soft hooves making equally soft “thoks” with each step. Robert had considered changing his fake wood floors with either real wood or carpet but he never found the time, money, or interest to invest into that large of an endeavor. It was adorable hearing her tiny hoof steps run through the house though.
A dish over flowing with healthy vegetables and fruit sit before Angel. Robert knew from her posture and the fluff sticking out she was giving her food an angry pouty face. Very faintly Robert could hear Angel grumble, “Wan sketti.”
Nope. She’s going to eat what she’s given and she’s going to like it. While this wasn’t an overt demand, he wasn’t going to let her think she deserves more than she already gets. No, this requires some creative torment. No, no abuse for this little filly. Just some… Fun for “daddeh.” Robert grinned as Angel finally lowered her head to the dish and ate away, she didn’t even know he heard the complaint. This was going to be so fun!
Robert left Angel alone to her food. He stood in his bedroom glaring, willing, mentally begging his closet to spit out something adequate to wear on a sort of date. The closet sat there, quietly. It always wins these contests, Robert knew it. The closet knew it. Angel didn’t know it. She stood in the door way, her head cocked with a quizzical look on her face. Angel!
“Angel, c’mon over here! Let’s play a game!”
Her eyes lit up! “Pway! Angel wub pway!” She pranced over, standing on her hind hooves to be picked up. Robert set her on the bed and rolled her on her back. She was used to this as many a times they play and he would tickle her. “How we pway, daddeh?” Robert only grinned and deftly put a sock on each leg and secured it with a rubber band. Not tight enough to hurt or cut circulation, but enough to keep the sock in place. Angel just waved her hooves in the air, “Wazzat, daddeh?”
Robert set her down on the floor. “Get the ball!” He threw the ball faster than he ever threw the ball in her little fluffy life. No thoks on the floor, her hooves just slipped back and forth. Her legs a blur as she tried to get traction. The ball! She ran as fast as her legs could go and she only ended up a foot away with her legs sprawled out in every direction.
Skitter skitter slip slip thud!
“Angel! Get the ball!” Another ball flew past her down the hall. This time, it was hers! She gingerly picked herself up and took a few tentative steps. Then more. Then faster. Slowly building momentum. Angel ran at full speed down the hall. The ball only inches away.
“Nu! Nu mo!” She slid past the ball. Slid right into the door, nose first, as fast as her tiny body could go. THUD! Cries filled the air, “Daddeh! Owies!”
“Angel! C’mere! I’ll give you love and huggies!” Robert kneeled and held his arms out, “Come get huggies!”
Angel held her sock clad hoof against her bleeding nose. Thankfully that appeared to be the only thing broken. But a fluffy, wearing socks, trying to walk with only three legs on a wood floor is just about the funniest thing Robert ever saw. Her frantic cries of owies and weggies and boo-boo juice and daddeh and huggies are drowned out by his own laughter and tears.
Part 6: The Special Friend
Robert sat on his bed, putting his socks on. Angel hated this part of his day. While she did not blame him for the sock incident, she was a bit more skittish around socks. Angel was quite big now, compared to her size three weeks ago. She’s now a full grown fluffy. Long dark blue fluff engulfs her body with matching colored wings. Her mane and tail are a dark green color. Angel peered at her “daddeh” with her green eyes.
“Whewe yu goin, daddeh?” Angel hated to be alone but she never complained about it to his face. She knew he would return and she was a good fluffy so rarely did he have to lock her in the safe room. In fact, lately, most nights she has been sleeping next to his bed.
“Your daddeh has a date. I’m gonna be going out with a girl. Getting us both drunk and paying for it because that’s how it works. Then we’re gonna come back here and maybe she will…” He stopped, knowing full well she didn’t understand the concepts. “I’m trying to find my ‘special friend’ like fluffies have.”
Angel didn’t have a special friend. She had her “daddeh.” Somehow she understood what a special friend was. She wanted one! She also didn’t want to share her daddeh. “Wiww Angel get a speshew fwend?”
The idea of his foal, his filly, his nearly fully mature mare having babies never crossed his mind. “Maybe. One day? Maybe.” Angel mulled that over and then walked away silently. Robert just assumed she was content with his answer. Instead she became jealous. She didn’t want to share her daddeh with anyone else. Maybe another fluffy, that’d be okay. But no one else.
Angel was being carried. She loved it when her daddeh carried her around. “Angel, you’re staying in the safe room tonight. I’ve got Mary coming back tonight and we won’t be able to play with you. So, you’re sleeping here tonight.” She just nodded, looking back at him sadly as he walked out.
SLAM! The door slamming shut scared Angel away. No scary poopies this time, she was lucky. Lots of noise came from beyond the door. Which was cracked open. It was open! She ran to the door and shoved it open with her muzzle and hooves. So much noise and it was so dark! But Angel was being brave. She timidly padded past the living room and peered into daddeh’s room. So much noise and weird grunting. There was another loud person in there too! Daddeh was making special huggies!
Thok thok thok thok! Quickly she ran back to the safe room and covered her eyes, hiding. She was upset and jealous. Mostly she didn’t understand. The morning will sort this out, she knew it. The bright sky ball and daddeh’s hot black water always makes things better.
“NUUUU! NU daddeh’s speshew fwend! Nu speshew huggies!”
He couldn’t process. He couldn’t react. It was bright. His head hurt. Damn, really, really hung over. And now his fluffy is screaming at his date. I hope she’s… He couldn’t finish his thought, not that he could even start it properly. His eyes were greeted with sharp sunlight and Mary. Holding the sheet up covering her body. While his fluffy turned, her tail lifting. It was in slow motion. It was over in an instant. Angel yelled “Giv sowwy poopies!” And the floodgates opened.
Mary ran! Straight to the bathroom. Robert could hear the shower going but couldn’t make out what she was yelling. First things first. He ripped the sheet off the bed, thankfully nothing seeped into the mattress and the blanket was safe. Right in the trash. He got dressed and put some coffee on.
The bathroom door opened. Mary stood there wrapped in a towel. She was pissed. “Mary, hey… I’ve got a fluffy pony. It’s about three weeks old which is really young. And apparently she’s got some issues. But… Umm… “ Mary stormed past him into the bedroom and slammed the door. Moments later she walked out, fully dressed.
They had a decent thing going. Friends for years. Occasional friends with benefits. If looks could kill, Robert and Angel would be shuffling off the mortal coil. She growled at Robert, “I’ll call you later.” And the front door slammed shut.
Part 7: The Sorry Stick (Or, alternately, That’s gonna sting!)
Angel hid in her bed, under the blanket. Hid as best a green and blue horse creature with wings can hide. She did bad. She knew she did bad. Daddeh was so angry. His special friend was so angry. But it was his fault! He doesn’t need a special friend, he has Angel!
She buried her head deeper into the blanket as she heard the door open. “Angel, come here.”
“Huuuhuuuu huuuuhuuu Nuuu! Angel sowwy!” She cried. And cried.
Bright light! Robert pulled her blanket away with his free hand. In his other… the sorry stick. Angel had never seen it before, but knew, from her programming, that it was a thing of terror. “NUU! Nu sowwy stick! Nu sowwy box!”
Robert just grabs her tail and drags her kicking and screaming from the bed. Too hungover to scream, he quietly asks, “Do you know why you’re being punished?”
Sniffles, “Becuz fwuffy… bad fwuffy?”
He only nods and flips her onto her back. As he raises the sorry stick he grabs her rear left leg with the other and give four solid hard smacks to the pads of her hoof. The sound is sickening. Her screams even worse. Four long bloody swathes stretch across the bottom of her hoof.
“WORSTESTS OWIES!” CHIRP!
It doesn’t stop. Her screaming and chirping don’t stop. He grabs her right hind leg and repeat the process.
She’s dissolved into a feeble crying and chirping mess. At some point she shit and pissed herself. It was to be expected. She gave up fighting and he moved to her front hooves to repeat the process. For strong strikes against the soft delicate hoof pads.
Angel just lays there, the blood soaking into her blue fur. Her legs and tail twitching, only chirps escape her mouth. Robert grabs her mane and lifts her up. “You’re going in the sorry box to think about what you’ve done.” And much like last time, she gets shoved into the tight uncomfortable box. While she is forced to stand. Her body unable to process the pain from now standing on her broken hoof pads she just shakes and makes a soft moaning “Eeeeee……”
Robert looks into the gate where her face is pressed. Her eyes unfocused, her mouth open and tongue hanging out the side. Hope I didn’t break her… But she had it coming.