Waffles hid behind the dumpster as the door into the alley swung open, an acne ridden teen tossing a few sacks of garbage into open trash cans before closing the door. He waited for a few tense seconds before he finally heard it.
Click
With a sigh of relief, the pale yellow unicorn crawled out from his hidie place, joining the rest of the herds stallions as they surrounded the trashcan under the watchful eye of the smarty. Seeing the stallions all in place, the greying red earthy gave a nod.
“Otay fwends, pushie times!”
The three stallions huffed and heaved, the can slowly tipping onto its side before falling to the ground with a loud metallic clang that set the chirpy babbehs crying, their mummahs quickly shushing them as the stallions began tearing at the plastic. A small cheer erupted from the herd as the bag finally spilled forth its contents. Cold, congealed nacho cheese, limp, wrinkly hotdogs, soggy fries, and cups half filled with warm, flat soda. A true feast.
“Otay fwends! Mummahs an’ soon Mummahs get fiwstest nummies!”
The smarty friend went about distributing the food, giving a small nosie bop to a young colt who tried to sneak a bite of popcorn before it was his turn.
The herd was small, only 5 adults and a handful of foals and chirpies. There would be more than enough food to go around.
Waffles grabbed a half eaten corn dog and a mouthful of fries, carrying them over to his and his special friends nest, a small bundle of newspapers, wrappers, and fluff piled beneath a wooden pallet that leaned against the wall of the alley. “Speciaw fwen! Waffwe am backsies!”
The pegasus mare, by sheer coincidence named Syrup, smiled happily and nuzzled against Waffles face, smearing the cold nacho cheese that covered her muzzle on him. “Speciaw fwen! Seewup miss ‘ou!” She hauled herself up to offer a hug, an indignant chirping arising behind her as a large orange colt tumbled off her back to the soft bedding. Waffles felt a sense of sadness looking at the last of his progeny as the pudgy little pointy babbeh crawled towards his mummah, chirping.
“Wai babbeh stiww chiwpy? Babbeh hab teefsies, nu nee’ miwkies nu mowe. Nee’ wun n’ pway!”
Syrup huffed. “Babbeh stiww AM chiwpy, stiww nee’ mummah and miwkies.” More and more the colt had been a point of argument between the two. Syrup cooed as she swept the colt up her arms, giggling as he snuggled into her chest. Waffles sighed, quickly finishing the rest of his nummies. She was a mummah, and mummahs always knew what was best for their foals. But as the pair curled up around the tubby orange colt, he couldn’t help but worry.
“Babbeh hab aww teefsies, nu am babbeh, am cowt! Nee’ eat nummies nao, nu miwkies.” Waffles lifted a fry to the mouth of the colt. The foal scrunched his face in annoyance, turning to rub his face in his mummahs chest.
Syrup rolled her eyes, something she had learned from her human mummah before she ran off to have babbehs. “Babbeh am sens-a-tibe!” She nuzzled the colts tummy, giggling as she did. “Sens-a-tibe babbehs nee’ dewe mummahs!”
Waffles watched as the colt nosed its way back to Syrups milkie places, latching and suckling for a long while, tiny little yellow tail nub waggling behind it. Even as its father he felt a mild sense of revulsion, a deep sense that there was something wrong with the foal that no amount of huggies could ever fix. But still, he loved his babbeh, and nothing could change that. The small family curled up in a fluffpile, the foal sandwiched happily between its parents as the dim incandescent bulb lighting the area flickered off, bathing the alley in moonlight. Waffles drifted off to the lullaby Syrup sang, a small smile on both his and his babbehs face.
Pop! wizzzzzzzzzz
An odd noise managed to rouse Waffles. He looked around the moonlit alley, seeing the majority of the other ponies were asleep.
Pop! wizzzzzzzzzz
The sound again. Waffles was wide awake now, looking around for the source of the noise. Feral fluffies didn’t last long by ignoring odd things, especially at night.
Pop! wizzzzzzzzzzz
“What am noisy?”
Waffles turned to look at Jiffypop, one of the other stallions evidently woken by the same noise. Waffles shook his head. “Fwuffy nu kno, tink we nee’ smawty fwen.” Jiffy nodded, trotting over to shake the old stallion.
Pop! wizzzzzzz
Waffles turned just in time to watch Jiffy collapse to the concrete with a soft thud, booboo juice pooling around his head as he twitched and spasmed on the ground. Before he could even scream there was a sudden flash of red, then the world went dark.
Nick had been watching the herd for a few hours. He had planned to deal with the group while they ate, full on blitz the fuckers, when he heard the magic word. Sensitive. Brushing his greasy hair out of his eyes he had scanned the alley for the source of the noise.
Nick hated fluffies. Hate is a strong word, but in Nick’s case it wasn’t strong enough. If Nick was forced to choose between wood chipping a megaherd and executing a single SBS “foal” he would of course choose the herd. But he would hesitate.
He vividly remembered the first time he had seen a SBS foal. A purple and green tumor named Barney. He had stumbled across it on YouTube. The mere sight of the “foal” had resulted in him clenching his fist so hard his nails had cut into his palm. He still had the scars.
A tubby, full grown purple unicorn with a thin, wispy green mane. Corpulent rolls of fat cascaded around it, a significant muffin top forming around its midsection pushed up by a heart patterned diaper. Dried milk was crusted around its snotty muzzle, lips peeled back in a hideous smile that revealed its tiny teeth and gums. Worst was its eyes. Dull, glassy, half closed. Yet they clearly emanated joy. It was satisfied, its belly full, its short coat well brushed and its diaper clean.
It made Nick furious.
A creature so fucking pitiful it would never be able to survive being alone in a room for two hours, let alone in the wild. It couldn’t fight, it couldn’t forage, it couldn’t walk, it couldn’t speak, it couldn’t do math, it couldn’t count, it couldn’t chew, it couldn’t use a litter box, it couldn’t control its bladder, it couldn’t produce offspring (he hoped at least), it couldn’t learn, it couldn’t understand, it couldn’t play with a ball, it couldn’t play with blocks, it couldn’t run, it couldn’t hunt, it couldn’t work, it couldn’t…
It just couldn’t. Yet in defiance of god, man, and the natural order, it did. A creature that was purely useless, no, less than useless, it was a net drain, a bottomless pit that demanded milk, huggies, love, diaper changes, “wickie-cweanies.” The purified synthesis of what he hated about fluffies. A useless bundle of fat and flesh that served no purpose other than to take, and take, and take.
“A day in the life of an SBS foal!” The video had made him nauseous, but he forced himself to watch, eyes fixed on the screen with deadly intensity. Eight hours of watching a fat pustule of filth gulp down milk, shit its diaper, and loudly cry when its mother tended to any of her other, actually young foals. Nick could tell the mother was exhausted, even supported in her parenting efforts by her human owner. But everytime that her sensitive baby was praised, she lit up like a Christmas tree. She began to croon her Mummah song. It was like nails on a chalkboard to Nick.
But it had given him an idea. A wonderful idea. An idea he never thought he would have a chance to act upon.
Until now.
Nick waited until the sun had set before he began his assault. Usually he liked the shock and awe approach, get up close with a machete and just start swinging, but he needed the cooperation of the foals mother for his experiment. It would be much harder to get that if she knew he was the one who killed her herd.
The infra red scope he had got with his work bonus came in especially handy, allowing him to locate the SBS behind a wooden palette. He scanned around the alley, making note of each fluffies location before settling on his first target, the smarty, off in a corner alone. Nick aimed directly at the base of the skull for each shot of the pellet rifle.
One. Smarty down.
Two. Other Mare down.
Miss. Two fluffies are awake and alert.
Three. Grey stallion down.
Four. Yellow stallion down.
Only the mother and SBS left, the remaining foals unlikely to survive on their own. Of course Nick wouldn’t take that chance, he’d stomp their skulls in after he’d finished taking the mother son pair.
Nick picked up one of the carrying cages he used for fluffies that were worth selling, an old dog kennel with a ratty cat bed nestled inside. Keeping to the side of the alleys entrance, Nick pulled his dog whistle from his breast pocket, giving it a short blow that scared the foals into chirping and waking the mare.
“Eep!”
Nick waited out of sight, listening to the mare move around.
“Spechul fwen? Whewe awe ‘ou?”
“Spechul fwen, why ‘ou nu am sweepies in nestie?
There was a few moneys of silence, before
** SCREAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!! **
Nick smelled the acrid scent of scaredy poopies, his cue to enter. He walked quickly, flipping on his flashlight as he turned the corner. “I heard someone scream, is everything alright?”
The caramel brown mare was standing in a thick pool of blood and feces, tears streaming down her face as she tried to wake her mate. “Speciaw fwen pwease nu gu foweba sweepies! Pwease, make wakies! PWEASE HUUHUU! SEEWUP NEE’ OUUUU-huu-huuuuuu!!!”
Nick walked over and set the cat carrier down gently, pulling a latex glove on before slowly and softly stroking the mares neck. He choked back fake sobs, rubbing his eyes to redden them. “Oh god who could have done this? Fluffies are for huggies and love, not… this!”
The mare seemed not to hear him, collapsing to her haunches and lying across the still warm body of her mate, wailing into the night, her tears soaking into his matted fluff.
“Peeep!”
Nick turned to look at the origin of the squeak, stopping mid pet of the mare as the crying orange blob crawled into view. Nicks fist clenched so hard his nails cut into his palm scars, drawing a small pool of blood that flowed between his knuckles before dripping to the floor. Blood rushed in his ears as his heart beat shook his entire body, his breathing growing as fast and rapid as his heartbeat. It was taking every ounce of his willpower to resist the urge to kill the fat little foal that was slowly crawling towards the mare, loudly chirping and peeping all the way.
“BABBEH!”
The mare raced over to pick up the colt, nuzzling it against her chest as she sobbed. “Babbeh, daddeh gu foweba sweepies but mummah am hewe, nu hab scawedys, babbeh!” The two cried into each other as Nick took a few slow, deep breaths. “Are you both okay?”
The mare seemed to notice Nick’s presence for the first time, placing her babbeh down softly and running over to Nick. “Pwease nice Mistah! Pwease sabe spechul fwen!”
Nick shook his head sadly. “I’m so sorry, he’s already gone to ‘skettiland’.” He lied through his teeth, no chance in hell fluffies went anywhere but hell. Nick gestured around to the death surrounding them. “You can’t stay here, it’s far too dangerous.” The sniffled. “Buh… whewe gu? Am too dangewous fow sensitibe babbeh wiffout hewd!”It seemed even the mare understood how fragile her child was.
Nick put on his warmest smile, scratching her chin softly to trigger her cooing response. “There there… what’s your name girl?” The mare sniffled. “Fwuffy am See-wup.” Nick moved on to scratch behind her ears, managing to get the mare to smile softly. “How would you like to come home with me?”
The mare was more than willing to go home with the strange man who just so happened to appear right when her entire herd was slaughtered in cold blood. Nick was so glad they had managed to program such naivety into the ponies, it made his life far easier.
Nick secured the duo in the passenger seat of his truck, placing a garbage bag down to protect the seat. He fully expected both to soil themselves as they began the drive. The mare was quiet and subdued, still sobbing every few minutes. But even through her grief she remained dutiful. Every five minutes or so Nick would hear the foal chirp or peep, and without fail the mare would abandon her mourning to hug the foal, feed it, even licking it clean at one point.
And she did it without complaint. Happily, even. Smiling as she licked the shit caked ass of the foal. She settled the foal into the thread bare catbed, singing her off key mummah song.
“Mummah wub babbeh, Babbeh wub mummah, gib aww da bestest miwkies su gwow up big an stwong!”
“Does he really love you?”
Syrup looked up at Nick with surprise and confusion. “Wha?” Nick glanced down at her briefly, keeping his eyes on the dark country road as much as he could. “How do you know he loves you?” Syrup giggled. “Siwwy daddeh, aww babbehs wub dewe mummah!”
“Are you sure? Has he ever said he loves you?” Syrup giggled again. Nick swore he would brake check her if she laughed at him again. “Babbeh am sensatibe, nu can make tawkies.”
“So how do you know he loves you?”
A peeping broke the heavy silence between the two. Syrup gasped. “Babbeh am hungies! Hewe babbeh, mummah hab wots ob’ miwkies!” The fat foal latched and began drinking, his mother cooing and rubbing his pudgy back as his tiny tail nub windmilled.
Nick gritted his teeth and returned his attention to the road. Whether the foal truly loved her, or simply needed her, he’d learn soon enough.
