Author’s Note: Here’s the second part of the story, as I mentioned in the last installment I made a few modifications, but it’s otherwise generally the same as when I uploaded it the first time. The third installment is taking a bit longer, I’ll get to it when I get to it. For now, as always I hope you enjoy.
EDIT: Whoops, actually forgot to post the story itself. Don’t worry, fixed it now.
Veles watched the wind sweep across the nearly barren fields of his sizable property from the back porch of his ancestral estate, soaking in the radiance afforded by the timely arrival of another autumn morning. It was on frigid mornings like this that he was grateful for the invention of insulated coveralls. The vista laid out before him was one of the few things in the realm of the material he could say, with any certainty, was truly beautiful. Some could see it in paintings or hear it in music, and to a greater degree most people could say they found other people good looking, but… Not Veles. The more he thought about, the more he realized that he’d never experienced ‘beauty’ as most people knew it…
Just as the faces of the thousands of fluffies he’d dealt with blended together in Veles’ mind, so too did just about everyone around him… He’d found the only way he ever encountered ‘beauty’ on a personal level was when he actually got to know someone, when he learned what made them tick, what motivated them. He didn’t know what that said about him, didn’t know if there was something wrong with him… Given his choice of hobby, Veles wouldn’t be surprised if other people thought that.
Marzya was still upstairs in bed, having gone to bed almost immediately after finishing her dinner. She insisted that he was fine… To Veles she looked just like everyone else, though according to some of Veles’ few friends she was ‘modestly attractive’ in a physical sense. In a more spiritual sense of the word, her personality, her intellect, her mind… She was easily the most beautiful woman Veles had ever encountered. Her laugh, her sense of humor, the way she explained the ins and outs of her research. She had a true passion for all intellectual pursuits, something many people claimed to have, but only a few truly possessed…
Veles found himself so hung up on the topic of beauty on account of his ‘conversation’ with Rocket the night before. Intellectually he knew it was just the result of the fluffy’s innate programming, spurred on by the mistake of a Hasbio scientist who happened to misplace a decimal place in his calculations in regards to their baser urges, be that food, water, or sex. Said nameless scientist, whoever he or she was, couldn’t possibly have known that their simple error in calculations would mean the difference between a cuddly-wuddly family friendly Bio-Toy and a creature capable of acts of such depravity that some examples, fittingly dubbed ‘hell-gremlins’, could give Sodom and Gomorrah a run for their money. Rocket was a comparatively tame example, but an example all the same, and Veles struggled to wrap his head around it.
Finding a ‘pretty special friend’ had been enough to drive the stallion from a nice, warm, safe home, and… That was just utterly incomprehensible to Veles. He even hated the way they phrased it, the more he thought about it… ‘Special Friend’. Taking a sip from a mug resting on a table beside his seat, the man was surprised to discover that his previously piping hot coffee was now ice cold. How long had he been sitting there, just staring off into space?
Gulping down what remained of his frigid brew, Veles stood from his seat and made his way inside, preparing himself for the day ahead. Izzy was sleeping in a little bed beside a bowl of food and water, curled up in a fashion that most people might find adorable… At least, that’s how other people reacted when they saw it. Veles just stared at the dam blankly, as one might examine a particularly sticky door knob, pondering what to do with her.
Judging by the size of her, today would be the day Izzy gave birth to her litter… Despite being a feral, Veles could tell from the general texture and color of her fur that this was probably her first. Izzy herself was probably no more than a three months old… The term ‘they grow up fast’, really found new meaning when it came to fluffies, yet another in-built design ‘feature’, intended to maximize production numbers. The point of this speculation was that this was probably Izzy’s first litter, and that presented Veles an opportunity. He wasn’t quite sure what it was yet, but his mind was working on something.
For now Veles set to rigging up a few small cameras in the living room and kitchen, both of which were left over from his father’s things. They were small, easy to conceal, and equally simple to network into a CCTV set-up, displayed on an old bulky CRT monitor and some speakers. This he set up in a broom closet on the second floor, secluded well away from anywhere a fluffy could conceivably get to without help. Here the man set up a third camera, aimed squarely at a comfy old dog bed on elevated table. All three cameras were in turn linked to Veles’ phone, which would record in intervals of roughly three hours before saving it to a cloud server ad infinitum.
The dog bed was augmented by an equally comfy heating pad… At least, it would’ve been for a human. For a fluffy, such temperatures would be painfully uncomfortable, and yet not enough to actually burn them. The heating pad was plugged into a modified timer, which would prompt it to turn on at random intervals, or if Veles flipped a button on the side. A well placed bucket ensured any poopies or peepees wouldn’t make a mess, and just like that Rocket’s new ‘safe room’ was complete.
With the same level of care a bomb disposal expert might handle the tasks of his chosen profession, so too did Veles carry the fitfully slumbering pillowfluff up out of the basement. Like the shadow of a ghost, he stealthily moved past an ignorantly sleeping Izzy, up the steps, through the cavernous hallways, where he gently placed Rocket on the heating pad in such a way that it’d be impossible for him to look away from the monitor. Rocket’s features briefly mollified when first he came into contact with the heating pad, prompting a soft sigh and a coo from the stallion…
“Rocket is such a good fluffy…” Veles whispered with faux affection, gently petting Rocket’s head. “Daddy loves Rocket, today we’re going to run and play… We’re going to have fun with blockies and your favorite bouncy ball… Then I’ll let you meet a pretty mare, and you can give her special huggies, have good feels, even have babies…” Rocket’s face contorted into a contented smile, unconsciously pressing his head up into Veles’ hand. “Yes… You’re such a good fluffy. Keep dreaming about running and playing…” Almost as soon as he said as much, he watched the stallion feebly attempting to run in his sleep.
The man meanwhile just stared at him blankly, his stoic expression betraying the indifference he felt towards this chimeric piece of merchandise. He swiftly withdrew his hand, pausing only to flick the stallion on the nose with a considerable amount of force. Rocket jolted awake, wriggling futily like a worm on a hot summer sidewalk, his useless stumps fidgeting impotently as he tried to push himself up and get away from whatever had struck him. With his eyes opened wide, it didn’t take Rocket long to settle on Veles standing in the doorway, and in that instant the man could see a mixture of terror and dread.
“Good morning, Rocket.” Veles stated flatly, clasping his hands behind his back and straightening to his full height. “Welcome to the first day of your new life, such as it is.” The man gestured at the glowing monitor. “From here you’ll get to watch Izzy and your babies, and, more importantly…” Veles trailed off with a faintly sinister tone. “You’ll get to watch what I do with them.” The man’s voice became as cold and venomous as a viper’s. “I’ll come once every day to give you food and water, and to clean your bucket. I may even let you see Izzy again if you’re a good fluffy, but if you’re a bad fluffy?” The man reached out to the stallion’s back, gripping the pegasus fragile little wing roughly.
“Huu huuu… Munstah daddeh nu taek wingies!” Rocket pleaded morosely, tears already welling in his eyes, even after Veles released the wing. “Wocket gud fwuffy! Onwy wan wuv, an wun, an pway, an-” The stallion froze when Veles grabbed his wing again. “Nuuu! Nu taek wingies! Wocket gud! Wocket pwomise!”
“Be silent.” Veles ordered bluntly, twisting the wing just a few centimeters, just enough to watch Rocket squirm again, before once more letting go. “I expect you to watch everything on this monitor, especially when I decide to play with Izzy or one of your foals. You have to eat whatever food I bring you, no matter what… Break these rules, refuse to eat or drink, defy me for any reason, and I assure you that things will be most unpleasant…” He only reached for the stallion’s wing, watching him flinch pitifully out of reflex. “I’ll know if you look away, Rocket. Daddy sees everything.” With that, Veles stepped back and closed the door to the broom closet, leaving the monitor within as the only source of illumination. The man paused outside the door, pressing his ear against the wood.
“Huu huu… Nu wike scawy dawk sowwy box!” Rocket pleaded, prompting Veles to pull his phone from his jacket pocket and open the camera feed. There he watched Rocket wriggling uselessly on the heating pad. “Daddeh! Daddeh wet Wocket ow! Huu huu huu… Wocket gud fwuffy!” Veles felt the oddest sense of satisfaction as he watched the stallion gradually stop trying to move, sighing faintly and lowering his head to look at the monitor. “Huu huu huuu… Huu huu… Wocket gud fwuffy…” A few minutes passed with Veles monitoring the stream from right outside the door. “Hawt… Hawt! Hawt! Hawt!” Rocket whined, resuming his plaintive squirming atop the rapidly warming heat pad. “Buwny hewties! Buwny hewties! Sabe Wocket!”
Allowing the faintest smirk to cross his thin lips, Veles slipped his phone back into his pocket and made his way back downstairs. Typically today would be a work day, which meant he’d need to head out and look for fluffies on his property. There were at least half a dozen herds that he cultivated as his ‘free range’ stock, allowing them to roam on his property unaware that he was observing them. Given how prodigiously they bred, even in autumn and winter, it was just as much about maintaining the property as it was acquiring new stock for his Fluffy Butcher Shop. On the other hand, Izzy was likely to drop her litter at any time, and he wanted to be around to ensure she didn’t cull any potentially valuable foals.
Making his way towards the kitchen, Veles became aware of the scent of sizzling eggs and faint conversation. A considerably more genuine smile sprang to life, and the man swiftly picked up the pace. Entering the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of Izzy eating kibble from a bowl, barely able to stand on her short stumpy legs, while Marzya stood at the stove cooking what looked to be her breakfast. Judging by the professional looking slacks and blue turtleneck that adorned her lithe form, the brunette researcher was also preparing to head out for work. Veles cleared his throat as he approached the counter, as Marzya had a habit of getting lost in her thoughts, and that tended to lead to her getting startled. So he did his best to alert her to his presence before pouring himself a fresh mug of coffee.
“Morning…” He greeted softly, leaning over to kiss Marzya on the cheek. She smiled faintly, pausing to adjust the rather thick glasses resting on her nose. “I didn’t realize you had work today.” The woman sighed, idly tending to the omelet she was frying up in the skillet.
“I wasn’t supposed to, but we just got word the grant came through for the next project… Doctor Jiang wants all hands on deck.” The woman explained, turning off the stove and allowing the cast iron skillet to continue cooking with its residual heat. Taking a sip from his cup, Veles savored the bitter black brew, noting that Marzya had added a few bits of diced fluffy meat to the eggs. “We’re going to be running a test on how resource abundance affects survival instincts and aggression… One group will be ferals, but given all the food, water, and affection they could ever want. The other will be life-long domestics, but they’ll be forced to scrounge and scavenge, while one of the intern shoots them with an airsoft rifle at random. We’ll let them romp about in the simulated environment for a few generations, then turn them loose on one another.” The woman smirked, glancing over at Izzy. “My money is that the ferals will still emerge victorious, even if they’ve been fattened up… Speaking of.” She prodded his stomach.
“I know, I know…” Veles responded defensively. “I’ve gotta go patrol the southern field today, that’ll do me some proper exercise.” Marzya merely raised an eyebrow at him, what he’d come to know as the ‘I’m not sure I believe you’ look. “I’m hoping she’ll go into labor sooner rather than-”
“BIGGES’ POOPIES!” Izzy’s shrill voice suddenly filled the kitchen, prompting Veles to glance over at the dam, who by now was laying on her stomach.
Fortunately the man liked his coffee strong, and so the overwhelming smell of grounds was enough to offset the repugnant stench of fluffy excrement and other birth byproducts now cascading down Izzy’s clean green fluff. Donning a pair of neoprene gloves, Veles set his coffee on the counter and moved to aid the new fluffy mother. Marzya meanwhile observed as she always did when the man was working with a fluffy, with that fastidious look of curiosity in her eyes. She and him weren’t all that dissimilar, the only difference being that he tormented fluffies as a hobby, and she did it for a living.
“Haf… Haf… Chirpy Babbehs…?” Izzy asked, dazed and audibly winded as Veles quietly sorted through the chirping newborns. It was an immense litter, nearly ten foals of varying colors and types, and only one stillbirth, a worthless brown earthie. The nine that remained alive varied wildly… Four of them were earthies, all of which were varying shades of green, brown, or tan. Two were pegasi, bright yellow and pastel blue respectively. Two were unicorns, one vibrant blue, the other magenta, and the last…?
Veles quickly scooped up the last baby, a black alicorn filly, tucking it out of sight whilst Izzy waddled around to begin giving her new babies ‘licky-cleanies’. Marzya quickly took custody of the alicorn, understanding just how much money the little creature was worth, and carried it away to clean and care for without risking its safety. Within a few minutes the Alicorn was resting safely in a little shoebox, swaddled in a nice warm blanket, being fed formula from a dropper.
Veles meanwhile cleaned up the mess, occasionally stopping to observe how Izzy interacted with her babies… Best to learn if she was a ‘good mummah’ or a ‘bad mummah’. With the mess fully cleaned, Veles leaned against the counter and continued his observations, all while Marzya alternated between caring for the alicorn and eating her breakfast at the table. Marzya also took an interest in Izzy’s parenting, and soon both she Veles got their answers. Izzy was, without a doubt, the posture child for an ‘Average’ fluffy mother, which was to say she was a ‘Bad Mummah’, not that she realized it…
The first signs came when she showed absolutely no care to the stillborn ‘poopie babbeh’ runt, as she referred to it. She actually went out of her way to stomp on, just to ensure it was dead. Then came time for the babies’ first feeding, and that confirmed for Veles and Marzya just the type of mare they were dealing with.
“Mummah nu gif dummeh poopie babbehs miwkies tiw bestes babbeh gets miwkies!” She snapped, pushing several of the earthie foals away whilst allowing the magenta unicorn to suckle greedily from her swollen pink teat. The blue unicorn was placed on the other, whilst the pegasi and earthies were all forced to wait. “Pwetty babbeh am mummah’s bestes babbeh…” She added, before singing in a rather grating voice. “Mummah wuv babbehs! Babbehs wuv mummah! Dwink yo miwkies, gwo big an stwong!”
Izzy had no way of knowing it, but she’d just sealed the fate of her two ‘bestest babies’. Veles would allow her to continue interacting with them as they grew up, they would be her last two babies, the ones she would remember best when all was said and done. The man then cast a look to where he’d placed the camera, knowing that Rocket had watched and heard the entire thing. His babies were born, and he’d been forced to watch from a distance as Izzy loved them and cared for them. As a pillowfluff, he’d never ever get to give them ‘huggies and wuv’, and they would never know he even existed.
“Would you mind taking little ‘Midnight’ there with you to work today? I need to set up a safe room for her.” Veles asked quietly, gesturing towards the alicorn foal. Marzya nodded, smirking at the ‘happy’ fluffy foals and their feral mother. She spent ten minutes feeding her ‘bestest babies’ before finally allowing the pegasi to drink. The earthies were given the worst treatment of all, barely allowed to have enough to sate their hunger before Izzy physically knocked them aside.
“Fascinating…” Marzya mumbled to herself, biting her lower lip. “You said she was a feral as of last night?” Veles nodded, sipping at his mug. “I’ve never seen a fluffy go from feral to up-tight domestic so quickly.” The woman had a point…
Were Izzy still living out on the streets, odds were Izzy’s priorities for her babies would’ve been very different. Feral herds typically culled brightly colored foals, primarily because they were most likely to draw the attention of a predator in the wild, or maybe it was just because most ferals that survived were earth tones, and they saw foals with similar colors as ‘pretty’… That was a project Marzya had yet to reach a conclusion on yet, though Veles eagerly awaited the day her report would be ready.
Regardless, taking a feral off the street and putting them in a domestic setting could, after a time, awaken their deeper programming to look for brightly colored foals as the ‘prettiest’. Usually that took at least two or three litters… Not so with Izzy, who once again knocked her foals away from her teats when they dared try to get more milk. While her mindset might’ve become domestic, Izzy’s body was most assuredly feral, and so she’d just delivered the fluffy equivalent of a right-cross to her newborn… Real class act, that one.
“What do you have planned for her?” Marzya asked quietly, watching the injured foal right itself, cheeping and chirping in obvious pain while Izzy huffed and started hugging her pretty babies. Veles couldn’t restrain his grin at the woman’s question, it was one of her research papers that gave him the idea.
“At first…? Nothing. I’m gonna let her live here with her babies, and then… I’ll start messing with her head. One by one, things are going to start changing…” Jerking his finger towards the well concealed camera. “Some will ‘grow up’ faster than their siblings, others will ‘change colors’, and some…? They’ll just cease to exist. All while her special friend watches and remembers them all…” Veles shrugged. “I’ve got some stuff planned for him too.” Marzya’s expression shifted to one of genuine affection.
“You got the idea for this from my last paper, didn’t you?” She asked, touched at his interest in her work. “It’s so dry, and almost two hundred pages long! You don’t have to do that…” Veles merely smiled at that, kissing her on the cheek again.
“I know, but I love you, and seeing what that big beautiful brain of yours cooks up really does it for me.” The man stated simply, kissing the top of her head before standing to his full height. It was a little more than that… As with so many things, there were a lot of things about life Veles didn’t understand well. For him, the best way he could show how much he admired Marzya’s work was to use it himself… She knew enough to know that, and even said she found it ‘sweet’, with that warm smile of hers… Just remembering it was enough to put a smile on the man’s face.
“Have a good day at work, drive safe, have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…” Veles added further, before trailing off. “Unless its to a fluffy, then, y’know… Go to town.” Marzya chuckled faintly, and with that the Butcher made his way over to double check that Izzy was in good health. Eventually Marzya left, leaving the house to Veles and his unwitting subjects. “How’s it all going over hear, Izzy? It’s so great to see you and your seven babies getting on so well, although…” He trailed off, looking at one of the wounded earthie. “Mummah’s shouldn’t hurt their babies, and they should share the milk equally. All babies are good babies.”
“Dat am stoopeh poopie babbehs!” Izzy huffed, before hefting the magenta unicorn up in her fluffy hooves. “If stoopeh babbehs nu fuww, den poopie babbehs haf tu num poopie.” She declared harshly, resulting in a number of fearful chirps from the hungry earthies. The unicorn, meanwhile, cooed and sighed softly in the warmth of its ‘loving’ mother’s embrace.
Veles could see that hard-bitten look in the mare’s eyes again, the sort of look that told him that somewhere, deep inside her twisted little brain, Izzy was getting some sort of… Enjoyment out of the situation. Not that she hated her babies, more like this was maybe something she’d been forced to go through, and she was just returning the favor. Again, Veles had trouble wrapping his head around treating a child so severely, especially if Izzy had endured similar treatment.
While most of the time he didn’t care one way or another how fluffies treated each other, in this respect it irked him considerably… Mothers were supposed to protect their young, fluffy mothers especially so, but… Izzy, and countless others like her, had no such instinct. Oh, sure, they loved making the babies, the loved singing to their tummy babies, they even liked caring for their babies, but not once… Not once had Veles ever encountered a mare that wouldn’t sell her foals out for a chocolate bar or the coveted ‘sketties’… Speaking of which, Veles had an idea.
“But Izzy, don’t you remember? You had spaghetti last night!” Veles asked with false shock, prompting another chorus of chirping, this time in excitement at the mere mention of the name. “You said it yourself, spaghetti makes the best milkies for your babies. In fact, the spaghetti I make is magic!” Using the word so many times at once granted him Izzy’s complete attention, and throwing in the word ‘Magic’? That was just icing on the proverbial cake.
“M-Magic sketties?!” Izzy asked excitedly, Veles nodded with a smile, a cold calculating smile. Her little brain was scrambling, putting together the pieces so easily laid out before her. “Den if… If Izzy num magic sketties, and magic sketties fow bestes miwkies, den…” She looked down at her teats. “Magic miwkies?” Veles’ grin went from ear to ear.
“You’re so smart, Izzy!” Veles cheered. “That’s right, magic sketties makes magic milkies! Magic milkies can turn poopie babies into pretty babies, and pretty babies into poopie babies, or even…” He trailed off. “Monster babies. That’s why all the babies have to have the same amount of milk.” Izzy’s face went blank, her eyes turning towards the magenta colored unicorn, prompting Veles to force a look of concern. “Say, does your baby look a little… Scarier to you?”
“N-Nu… Bestes babbeh nu s-scawy…” Izzy said stiltedly, so Veles simply restored his earlier grin, then patted her on the head.
“Good!” The man cheered, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket and taking another sip from his coffee. “Now, I’ve got work to do outside. Remember the rules from last night. Stay in the living room or the kitchen, all fluffies have to do poopies and peepees in the litter box, and remember Izzy… You’re the only fluffy allowed to live here.” With that, Veles finished off his cup and placed it in the sink, then grabbed an old wool knit cap from the counter and tugged it on his head.
Veles made a brief detour to one fo the estates numerous rooms, this one dedicated to his father’s --now his– considerable firearms collection. From within a gun safe beside the door he withdrew a .40 caliber pistol and holster belt, which he swiftly put on. This was followed by a .22 caliber semi-automatic rifle, affixed with a scope and suppressor, which he slung over his shoulder, along with a satchel of ammo.
The pistol was for purposes of personal defense, particularly against the feral hogs that also regularly ran rampant in the area. Veles doubted he’d ever run into one of them, especially in winter, but Marzya insisted that he never leave to check the fields for ferals without something packing more stopping power than the .22. Fully equipped for his day walking the fences of his estate, the man made his way back to the kitchen. There he found Izzy playing with her foals. Notably she’d allowed the earthies to start drinking milk again, while the other newborns were laying in a big cozy pile.
Stepping out into the frigid autumn air, Veles made sure to lock the door behind him, then started off into the nearly barren fields… He had an old pickup truck that he’d drive around from time to time, mostly parking it out of sight and then continuing on foot, as he needed something to carry his considerable haul around in.
It took him several hours of driving from one area to another, hiking from one end of the sizable property to the next, through small clusters of trees and dense brambles, then back out to open fields. Most of the fluffies that lived out here were ferals, and ferals almost always tended towards earth tones, which made them surprisingly difficult to spot… Still, he knew that sooner or later the herds would come out to feed on what little greenery remained, and so he took a moment to conceal himself in a treeline overlooking a small section of grass… There he waited, patient as always, observing the field through a pair of binoculars he carried in his satchel.
Even situated among the underbrush, Veles was quite easily visible to people and other animals, an intentional act on his part. Fluffies had notoriously bad eyesight, but they could certainly see color, such as the bright orange vests typically worn by hunters… Thus, to conceal himself from fluffies, he had to forgo such safety gear. It was his own property, and no one else was allowed to hunt there, but still… He had to make himself as conspicuous as possible to everyone else…
The midday sun had done little increase the frigid temperatures, though it had thankfully coaxed a few feral herds out of their various hidden nests. One such herd, relatively small compared to the average in the state, numbered at roughly 10 stallions and 20 mares, plus their assorted offspring. They commenced to grazing on the patch of fading greenery, romping about in that typical fluffy way, despite their hardened feral exteriors. The foals weren’t much of a concern, they wouldn’t be able to run all that far, but the adults?
Easy as fluffies were to catch, whether they walked up to his door or he found them on his property, the sheer numbers of that herd would typically make it impossible for him to get them all. That was part of the reason they were such an agricultural menace. Then again, Veles only needed 10 of meet his self-set daily production quota, but he wasn’t too sanguine about the fluffies getting away to live another day. They were, after all, vermin… The fact that they weren’t animals likewise meant their wasn’t a bag limit, so just because he only needed 10 didn’t mean he couldn’t bag more.
This would’ve been so much easier with a machine gun… The man would just need to get creative if he wanted to eradicate the entire herd, but Veles was nothing if not creative. The majority of the herd was guarded by a perimeter of toughie friends, but the gaps in their security would’ve been large enough for Veles to drive his truck through. Some of those within their protection were running and playing with one another, their infantile laughter audible even at a hundred yards away. Slowly, ever so slowly, Veles watched the herd meander out into the field, further and further away from the protective trees that marked its edge and closer to his position. No trees, no cover… The further they were from the trees, the further they had to run.
Pausing his observation to allow the herd to deploy more openly, Veles pulled his phone from his pocket and resumed watching the feed from Rocket’s ‘safe room’. The pillowed stallion was wriggling again, likely the result of the heat pad, though there was a definite look of resignation in his eyes. If only he knew just what was in store for him. Tucking a pair of ear buds into his ears, Veles thumbed through his phone to the MP3 function.
The ear buds and music were just as much for practical purposes as they were for entertainment. A suppressed .22 wasn’t the loudest thing out there, but it was always smart to use hearing protection whenever possible. Swapping his rifle for the binoculars, he brought the scope to his eyes and settled it on the herd. Briefly he looked past them, double checking there wasn’t anyone that might be hit by a stray round, then flicked the safety off and brought his finger to rest on the trigger guard.
The polished wood was comfortable against his cheek as he rested the scope on the largest fluffy in the group, marked by tan coloration and the horn atop his head. The way he carried himself, pushing other fluffies out of the way, left little doubt… This was the smarty friend. Veles hit the shuffle button, naturally the first song that came on was one he didn’t particularly like, so he skipped through it, and the next six, before finally settling on Black Sabbath’s ‘Paranoid’. Tucking the phone away, the man steadied his aim on the smarty…
The rifle jumped back ever so slightly, it was only a .22 after all. The already light report was further diminished by the suppressor mounted on the end, rendering it virtually silent to the ears of a fluffy. Veles watched the smarty’s head come apart in a fountain of blood and brain matter, spattering several mares around him. He was unable to constrain a grin, there was just something so satisfying about the effect even a small caliber rifle had on a fluffy, like… Hitting a watermelon with his father’s .50 cal, or a fluffy with the .50… That was always fun.
The stunned fluffies stared at their slain smarty, all while Veles began picking off the toughies, one by one, in rapid succession. They were most likely to assume the role of a new smarty, and the herd was in such a state of surprise that they basically froze in place. The music was really picking up, and at this point Veles had secured enough ‘in tact’ specimens to rise out of cover and start advancing on the herd for full blown extermination, plinking away at their numbers with every couple steps.
“Munstah hoomin! Wun way- Pop! SKREEEEE!” A stallion started, only for a bullet to tear his back half clean off.
“Nu see fwuffy! Nu see-” Pop!
“Nu hewt soon mum- Pop! Pop! Pop!” Veles stopped at the edge of the massacre, watching a handful of fluffies ‘sprinting’ towards the trees. Calmly he exchanged his nearly depleted magazine for a fresh one, fumbling for a moment in the cold, before shouldering his rifle and picking off the fleeing stragglers. In total, he bagged 33 full grown fluffies, all the stallions, all the mares, including half a dozen ‘soon mummahs’. The dams were basically unsuitable for his purposes, but he’d managed to take 21 fluffies in good enough condition to butcher and sell online.
The foals varied from chirpies, most of which were ended with a swift and merciful crunch of his boot, to talkies, who warranted a more… Involved execution. Veles gathered up several brown chirpies, 2 pegasi and 2 unicorns, as well as several colorful earthies. These he left intact, and were placed in a specially lined pouch in the satchel. The field was filled with whines and the 'huu… huu…'s of plenty of other foals, who wouldn’t be so lucky. Veles nudged the corpse of a chocolate brown mare onto her side with his boot, revealing a shaking blue pegasus hiding beneath the body. The colt held his pristine white tail up against his chest, looking up at Veles with those big, colorful, tear filled eyes…
Marzya informed Veles that this pose was an example of ‘cuteness’, but if that was the case, then the man just… Didn’t see what all the fuss was about. His face was as granite as he leveled the smoking muzzle of his rifle at the foal’s head, no more than a few inches away. The wind blew coldly out of the south, carrying small puffs of Veles’ breath away, as he pondered what he felt in that moment, just as had been the case the night before with Rocket.
“P-Pwease nice mistuh… Nu hewt babbeh, am onwy widdle babbeh…” The colt pleaded softly. “Babbehs am onwy for huggies an-” Pop!
“Mummah wuvs babbehs! Babbehs wuv mummah! Dwink yo miwkies and gwo big and stwong!” Izzy sang joyously to her bestest babbeh, rocking him back and forth, giving him all the bestest huggies and love a mummah could! Izzy was such a good mummah, daddeh said she was the smartest mummah there ever was! He would know, he was the smartest daddeh to ever be a Daddeh ever! He had allowed Izzy into his nice big housie, gave her the bestest sketties, and let her love her babbehs!
There was something in her mind, something very fuzzy, that told her that she should be worried about something. She thought back several forevers, to when Daddeh took her in and made magic sketties, just for her! Or did he? For some reason, Izzy didn’t know for sure, she could’ve sworn she’d had another fluffy with her when Daddeh took her in. Her special friend, the one that’d given her tummeh babbehs, which were now chirpy babbehs… Daddeh told her that she had no special friend, and Daddeh was Daddeh, so he had to be right!
Izzy hadn’t seen Daddeh or mommy in several forevers, and every now and then she’d take a break from tending to her chirpies in order to look around the housie. Maybe mommy and Daddeh were hiding? They were so silly! At the moment, however, she was allowing her poopie babbehs to have more magic milkies… Daddeh said that it might make them pretty, just like her other babbehs, but she was more concerned with her bestest babbeh… The babbeh she’d given so much magic milkies to. He looked just about the same to her as when she’d first given him licky-cleanies, but she couldn’t be sure if his fluff was changing color or not.
Several more forevers passed, until finally Izzy found the sound of Daddeh’s not hoofsies clomping up outside. She set her foal down with the others, carelessly dislodging the poopie babbehs as she excitedly trotted towards the noise. The door swung open, and Izzy hopped up onto her back legs, eager for affection from Daddeh! He was a big hoomin, tall, and a little pudgy, but today he seemed… Different. He smelled like fluffies, a lot of fluffies… Scaredy peepees, poopies, and… Boo-boo juice. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Izzy got the sense that something was very wrong here, that she should turn around and run away… It’d mean having to leave her babbehs behind, but she could always have more babbehs.
“Hi, Izzy!” Daddeh greeted warmly, crouching down and reaching his hand out to pet her. On instinct she backed away, cowering slightly. “What’s wrong, girl?” He asked, looking at Izzy in a way that reminded her of a hissy munstah. “Don’t you want a hug?” Daddeh asked, and at the mere mention of the word ‘hug’ any notions of fear subsided. This was Daddeh, not a hissy munstah, and he wanted to give her huggies and love, just like all hoomins did!
“Upsies?” Izzy asked, and Daddeh was all too happy to pick her up in his arms. “Daddeh, ou nu smeww pwetty… Ou smeww… Scawy…” She told him, prompting the man to give her a gently squeeze and nuzzle her muzzle.
“I’m sorry, Izzy. Daddy just had to deal with some very bad fluffies, but don’t worry.” The man explained simply, booping her on the nose, prompting Izzy to giggle lightly. Daddeh closed the door behind him, adjusting a strange baggy thing that hung around his body, and some weird sticky thing. “I tossed them down into a special sorry box, so they won’t ever be able to bother you or any other good fluffies ever.” Daddeh carried Izzy back over to her foals, who by now were chirping at her absence.
“So how have things been here with your- Izzy!” Daddeh continued, only to stop abruptly. Izzy looked down from Daddeh’s hug, quickly spotting a puddle of bad peepees and several bad poopies that had just plopped out of her bestest baby. “You know the rules, Izzy. All poopies and peepees have to be made in the litter box.” The man set her down beside the baby and the mess, then put his hands on his hips. “Fluffies that do have to clean up their poopies and peepees.”
“Buh… Buh Daddeh, bestes babbeh am onwy widdle babbeh…” Izzy began, looking up from the floor, between Daddeh’s frowny face and her bestest babbeh. “Bestest babbehs nu can num poopies.”
“But he has to, Izzy. It’s the rules!” Daddeh insisted, sounding genuinely upset. “I don’t like it any more than you do, especially considering how much magic milkies you gave him.” Izzy looked at Daddeh, her tiny brain struggling to figure out where magic milkies fit in to all this. “Well, you know what they say… You are what you eat.” Izzy took a step back, eyes wide in shock.
“Daddeh mean… Bestest babbeh num poopies, den bestes babbeh wiww…”
“Turn into a poopie baby, yes, I’m afraid so…” He said regretfully, putting his hands on his hips. “I suppose I could make an exception, this time…” Izzy’s eyes widened joyfully, Daddeh was the bestest- “You could clean up the mess.” Izzy looked between her bestest baby and her other babies, pondering nervously.
“Buh… Daddeh, Izzy nu wan num poopies, an babbeh am tu smaww… Pwease?” Izzy insisted, but Daddeh just shook his head. After several moments of nervously tapping her hoofsies together, the mare came to a decision. Bestest babbeh might turn into a poopie babbeh, but she’d still have other pretty babbehs that could be her new bestest babbeh!
Daddeh watched her with a strange blank expression, watching as Izzy picked up her chirping bestest babbeh and turned it around to face its mess. It chirped nervously, trying to scoot away, but Izzy forced its mouth open and shoved the poopies in… She felt so many heart hurties, her bestest babbeh was so scared, but… Better he was the only one to suffer. When all was said and done, her bestest babbeh was breathing funny, so Izzy picked it up and tried to hug it better… That didn’t help.
“Daddeh! Babbeh haf owwies! Huggies nu wowkin! Huuu huuu! Hewp babbeh, pwease!” She cried, holding the babbeh up to Daddeh, he reached out with his not-hoofsie and took it from her. The man turned around, reaching into his bag.
“Maybe I can use my magic…” He exclaimed, moving to the tall flat place where mommy and Daddeh made their nummies. Izzy could hear her bestest babbeh chirping and chirping, even when she couldn’t see him, but eventually turned around and gave back her bestest unicorn chirpy… “All better, and luckily it looks like he’s not changing color! That was a close one.”
“Tank ou, Daddeh! Ou da bestest Daddeh ever!” Izzy cheered, taking the chirpy with just as much affection as she’d given it before.
“It would’ve been such a shame if your pretty baby turned into a poopie baby, but then again it’d also would’ve been your fault.” Daddeh said, shaking his head in obvious disapproval. “If only you were a better mummah? He might never have been in danger to begin with.” The man reached down and patted Izzy on the head, his words lancing through her. “But cheer up, girl! Babies are for huggies and love, remember! Who cares if this baby almost became an ugly poopie baby, at least then he’d look more like his mummah!” Izzy winced, because part of her knew Daddeh was right…
“Now, I’ve got some work to do around the house, so I’ll leave you here for a while. Then we can play with your babies when I come back! Doesn’t that sound fun?” Daddeh’s expression became serious. “But remember the rules! If any other babies make bad poopies or peepees, either you or they need to clean it up… Also, I won’t be here to use my magic next time, so keep that in mind if you decide to have them do it”
“O-Otay, Daddeh…” Izzy said, carrying the chirpy by the scruff over to her other foals, who were once again chirping in her absence. “Izzy wuvs Daddeh.” She said once she’d set the pretty babbeh down with its less pretty brothers and sisters.
“I love you too, kiddo!” daddeh responded, tucking his hand into his bag before once more leaving. Izzy had several long times to think about what’d just happened, looking between her babbehs with a deep sense of heart hurties. daddeh called her an ugly poopie fluffy… Trotting over to her drinky-place, she could see her not-facey staring back at her. daddeh was right… She moved back to her babbehs, curling up with them, nestling them in her fluff.
“M-Mummah wuvs babbehs… Babbehs wuv mummah…” She started softly. “Huuu… Huuuu huu… Dwink yo miwkies, gwo big an stwong…”
