You get home, hear Fireball huuhuuing to himself in the living room, immediately bolt for the basement (The house is built on an incline, so the way to the backyard is in the basement, and the basement has windows), sit the two containers down, and open them up. The mother saunters out. “Am soon mummah.” she says, in an almost arrogant tone. The smarty walks out as well. The mom pulls the babies out, and the walking talking foals walk out.
Weren’t the brown ones skinnier? What happened? “Hey, weren’t your, uh, poopie babies really skinny a little bit ago?” The mom looks at you, just as confused as you are. “Poopie babbehs? Weww, babbehs du wook wike poopies, but mummah feed dem anyway. Mummah wub aww babbehs!” Did you just misremember what happened? You pull one of the brown talking foals aside.
“Does your mother make you eat shit?” The foal cringes away from you. Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten in its face. “W-wha?” You run a hand across your face in exasperation. “Does she make you ‘num poopies’? Did she give you enough milk when you were small?” The fluffy looks around. “Y-ye, fwuffy nu hab tummy huwties, bu’ sometime mummah gib nummies to pwetty babbehs an dewe no mowe nummies fo fwuffy, bu’ mummah no mean tu be mean, she shawe some nummies wif fwuffy. Bestest babbeh awways get nummies fiwst, bu’ dat otay.”
Did you just misremember everything? That’s the only explanation that makes sense. Maybe you just fabricated a reality that suited your worldview! Like a child. You turn back to the mother. “Which baby is your best baby?” The mom smiles. “Mummah hab one bestest babbeh an one odah bestest babbeh! Dis wun” She pulls a small clone of herself off of her fluff. “An dis wun!” She points to one of the walking talking babies which, surprise, looks just like her. Only this one doesn’t have wings.
“Alright then. I’ll get you guys set up down here in a little bit. For now, there’s a litterbox in the corner. ‘poopies’ (You fucking hate talking like this) and ‘peepees’ go in that box. If you don’t go in the correct place you will be punished swiftly. Food and water is over here, and beds are in the boxes.”
You hear someone talking behind you. “Nu wan dis nummies, smawty an’ bestest hewd desewve sketties! Nee’ sketties to gwow big an’ stwong! Dummeh hooman, gib sketties nao!” You shake your head, ignoring him. “Hooman! Smawty say gib sketties!” He sits down, arms waving up and down in anger. “GIB SKETTIES NAO HOOMAN! Pwease?”
You take a slight step backwards, making sure not to complete the step, letting your heel hover slightly off the ground. Or it would be hovering, if there wasn’t a pair of fluffy testicles between it and the concrete floor. “Eep!” You don’t turn around, ignoring him. “W-wumps! S-speciaw wumps huwties! P-p-pwease nice mistuh, fwuffy nu mean tu, pwease nu step on wumps!” You put a little more pressure on them. “S-speciaw wumps, pwease nu huwties! N-nice mistuh, fwuffy wiww be gud! Fwuffy pwomise!”
You ignore him, opting to talk to his special friend and kids. “Alright, so you ran from home? Because your mom wouldn’t give you new toys or spaghetti or let you have babies?” She smiles triumphantly. “AN’ mummah nu gib sketties fo gud poopies! Nu babbehs, owd toysies, an sketties onwy on some bwite times. Dummeh mummah! Onwy ting mummah do wight is gib soon mummah pwetty name!”
“I see.” You apply a little more pressure to the smarty balls. “W-WUMPS! P-P-PWEASE DADDEH, SMAWTY NEE- SPECIAW WUMPS! HUU HUU!” You smile. “What are you babbling about? What ‘wumps’?” He’s pounding his hooves against your leg, fruitlessly “S-SPECIAW WUMPS SU HUWTIES!” You apply just a little more pressure. Any more than this and there’s gonna be a mess. “P-PWEASE DADDEH, HUU HUU, SU HUWTIES!”
And with that, you drop, hearing a slight squelch noise. Could have sworn you heard a pop too. “SCREEEEEEE! WUMPS! WUUUMMMPS! S-S-SPECIAW WUMPS! S-SU HUWTIES! HUU HUU!” You lift your heel, and drop it again. “SCREEEEEE! SU MANY HUWTIES! HUU HUU HUU! W-WUMPS!” You step off, and hear him fall down. You turn around to face the guy. He shat himself, of course, but other than that it just looks like someone deflated his testicles. He’s lying on the ground, rolling back in forth in what you can imagine to be absolute pure agony and pain, clutching his mushed up ‘special lumps’.
“Looks like someone made bad poopies!” He just cries in the floor, clutching his crotch. “Huu huu… N-nu mean tu… W-wumps su huwties…” You smile. “Well, I’ll let it slide just this once.” The mother is tapping against your foot with her hoof. “Daddeh, why speciaw fwien hab huwties?” You crouch down and stroke her fluff. God you hate the feeling of this fluff. “Well, sometimes when a special friend doesn’t actually love their special friend, but they have special huggies with them anyway, their special lumps recognize this and give the special friend the worst hurties.”
“B-buh, does dat mean speciaw fwien nu wub Swippy?” You smile down at her. “I’m sorry, but it seems like it does.” She immediately starts crying, and runs over to the smarty. “Huu huu! S-smawty nu wub Swippy!” The smarty looks up through his tears. “W-wha? Nu! Nu, smawty wub Swippy mowe den anyting in da howe fowebah! Huu huu, P-pwease gib smawty huggies, smawty speciaw wumps su huwties.”
“Nu! Daddeh say smawty nu wub Swippy, so Swippy nu gib huggies! Smawty nu am smawty, smawty am dummeh nu wump fwuffy!” The smarty tries to stand up, but falls back over due to the pain. “Huu huu! D-dat nu am twue, smawty wub Swippy! Daddeh wying!” Slippy looks at you. Then, looks back at the smarty, lying in agony on the floor.
“Swippy twust daddeh! Daddeh gib famiwy nyu housie an toysies an sketties an wub! Daddeh nebah wy tu fwuffies! Dummeh nu wumpie fwuffy am biggest dummeh! HATECHU! SWIPPY HATECHU!” These things are so trusting! You promised them food, a nice home, and toys, and now they believe everything you say! The smarty looks up at her, looking like his entire world is crumbling. “H-HUU HUU HUU! S-SMAWTY HAB WOWSTEST HEAWT AN’ WUMP HUWTIES!” She stomps away, and her children follow her, except for one walking talking foal that looks just like her special friend. He stays behind and looks down on the smarty. “S-sowwy daddeh, babbeh am sowwy fo daddeh huwties. Babbeh gib huggies, make aww bettah!”
The foal gives the dad a hug, and the dad weeps. “H-huu huu huuu. S-smawty am usewess, wowstest speciaw fwien. Speciaw wumps gu way an gib huwties cause smawty nu wub speciaw fwien, bu’ smawty du wub speciaw fwien! Why wumps nu wissen?” The foal gives its dad a big hug. “Wub yu daddeh.” Then it goes and runs over to its mother to give her a hug. “Nu! Dummeh babbeh wook wike dummeh nu wumpie fwuffy! Nu git huggies!” She shoves the baby away, and he sits on the ground and huuhuus to himself.
You smile, triumphantly. “Hope you enjoy your new home guys! I’ll come down with dinner later. And tomorrow I’ll get you new toys!” Gotta keep up the facade of loving these things for a bit. You kneel down to the smarty, who looks up at you through tear filled eyes. “D-daddeh, smawty hab wowstest huwties. P-pwease, hewp smawty. Huu huu huu…” You smile down at him. “I don’t think I will. You were a bad special friend, and that’s why this happened to you.”
“B-buh, smawty wub speciaw fwien! Why speciaw wumps nu wissen? Huu huu huu!” You smile down at him. “It’s gonna get a whole lot worse, for you AND your shitty little family.” The smarty looks at you, confused and terrified. “W-wha?” You smile. “Oh, nothing! Hey, listen. I’ll give you a big bowl of spaghetti all to yourself since your special friend hates you now. How’s that sound?”
“Huu huu, d-dat sound otay, b-but wan speciaw fwien tu wub smawty gain.” You pat on his stomach. “Well, that’s probably not gonna happen little guy. But you can always dream.” You get up, and make sure to step on his smashed testicles again before you leave. “SKREEEEE! H-HUWTIES! W-WHY DUMMEH WUMPS NU WISSEN?! SMAWTY W-WUB SWIPPY! SMAWTY WUB S-SWIPPY! HUU HUU!”
“I’ll be back in a bit guys! Love you!” You don’t love them, but you sure do love fucking with them. All the fluffies that can talk respond with a chorus of “Wub daddeh!” The chirpy babies just chirp and peep at the loud talking, and the smarty just rolls around on the ground in sadness, frustration, and pain.
You go upstairs, sit down on the couch, and remember that Fireball is still there. “H-huu huu, daddeh, Fiwebaww hab biggest heawt huwties.” You’ll take care of him after a quick nap.
