The epic of the poopie smarty CH:7 (Poopiest_of_bebbehs)

Your name is Poopie and you are running for your life.

You ducked and weaved through the twashies with Dummeh right behind you. The sound of the bangy stick went off again but you dared not look back. You sat and waited under a broken old vwoom minstuh for a few fowevas until you worked up the courage to try and leave. That was of course until you felt Dummeh leave your side and go the other way.

“wer am Dummeh goin?” you asked.

“Dummeh nee tu check on da Sensitibe bebbeh, pwomised tu sabe bebbeh, memba?” he said back.

You knew it was a terrible idea but it wasn’t like you were capable of stopping Dummeh and more than likely he would be caught by the meanie hoomin if he went alone.

You gulped and decided to go with him, taking the lead as you were a harder colour to see in the dawkies and only half the size of your bestest friend.

You both stayed low and under the twashies until you got back to where Wemon-Wime was laying when you both first made a run for it… but she was gone and so was the sensitibe bebbeh.

“wer am bebbeh?” your gigantic companion asked. You weren’t really sure if he was talking to you or to nothing in particular. Regardless, it didn’t matter because his question was answered by a chirping and peeping from inside the twashie can nearby, the tipped over one that Wemon-Wime had filled with the bebbehs she stomped.

You cocked your head in confusion. The twashie can was now upright.

“dis am gon be pwobwem” you thought to yourself.

You motioned to Dummeh who got low right next to the can and you climbed on top of him before he shot up tall. You could barely touch the lid and the frantic chirping inside was growing more fearful and frantic by the moment.

“eberwyting be otay, Dummeh hewe, Dummeh gon sabe yew” he reassured the imprisoned bebbeh.

Eventually you both gave up on the quiet approach, it wasn’t working and you couldn’t stay here for much longer. You ordered Dummeh to gib kickies to the twashie can and he did, he gave the mightiest of bucks but it did nothing, except for making thr chirps go into full blown “screeees”.

You panicked and started gathering twashies to make a staircase like you did when you found your Mumstah friend. Soon enough you had created a staircase and a wobbly platform with which Dummeh could give the bestest kickie, and he did just that.

He gave another hefty kick with his back hoofsies until the can toppled over and the lid went flying.

Inside you found Wemon-Wime, or what was left of her. She came crawling towards you both with her two front weggies, in fact they were now her only weggies.

Wemon-Wime was gone from the tummeh down, just lots and lots and LOTS of booboo wawa and a trail of pink tummeh thingies that looked like bad sketties that followed behind her as she slowly crawled out of the can and turn on her backsie to look at the big pweety sky.

“pwe… eas… CHIRP sabe… Bebbeh…” she begged while looking at the pwetty stars.

“gon fin bebbeh, but nu cuz yew askies…” you replied coldly. You hated this mare, you didn’t care if her time was running out, she was just like your mummah, or at least you thought so at first.

“wat am du bout yew? Yew am gu foweba sweepies soonie, du Wemon-Wime nu wan be awone?” Dummeh asked her before trying to place a hoof on her chest to comfort her.

“NU… DUMMEH DUMMEH!.. GU SABE BEBBEH!..” she ordered with her final scraps of strength before falling limp. “wemon-… PEEP Wime… Nu cawe wat CHIRP happen tu Wemon-Wime… Onwy… Bebbe-…” she forced out before her breath left her and the light left her see-pwaces.

You didn’t have time to say anything or do anything nice for her. You still hated her but now you felt wrong inside, like she was bad but not all bad… or maybe her thinkie pwace was just so broken that she just didn’t care anymore. Regardless, you sniffed her to catch the smell of her bebbeh and followed it for some timsies. Eventually you came to a small metal housie in the corner of the twashie yard and as you approached it you could hear the unmistakable sounds of chirping, followed by scawy hoomin laughter.

“that’s right you little freak, dance for me…” thr scawy hoomin said before his giggles were drowned out by the loudest chirps and peeps your heawing pwaces had ever heard.

You climbed on top of a brown boxie and used it to climb upon the lid of the twashie can right next to the window to the metal housie. You couldn’t see much because the windows were covered in dirt but after rubbing your fluff against it you were able to see through the little circle you made, although you wish you couldn’t when you witnessed what was going on inside.

Sensitibe was in there and he was crying. He was laying on his back on a desk and there were pointy hewties in all of his weggies, trapping him in place and a fifth one stuck right into his speshew pwace, right where he makes peepees.

“here ya go ya little fucker, a nice bit o’ milk yeh” the bad hoomin said as he put what looked like a milkie pwace over a red bottle. The bottle itself frightened you because it had lots of scawy pictures, like skeletons and buwnies. You gulped as you watched on, powerless to help.

He put the bottle closer and closer to Sensitibe’s mouthie but would then pull it away and flick his nosie hard until boboo wawa came out.

“come on, you fat retard, say ‘Please’!” the scawy hoomin demanded before doing the same again many times.

Sensitibe just cried, made scardie poopies and chirped.

“ok, want to play it like that? Alrighty then?” the hoomin said before dripping the red milkies on Sensitibe’s nu-nu stickie and speshew wumps.

First he wriggled, then he writhed and then he exploded into rapid chirps and peeps as his see pwaces shot wide and he looked around desperately.

You cried quietly to yourself as he thrashed so hard that one of his front hoofsies came loose and he waved it around, swatting at the air like an invisible munstah was about to num him. But then he saw you. Your eyes met and he reached out, his tiny eyes begged for you, but you could only watch on.

“SAY ‘PLEASE’, CUNT! SAY IT! COME ON, CUNT! CUNT, CUNT, CUNT, CUUUNT!” the nasty hoomin roared as he slammed his fist down many times.

Sensitibe’s lips twitched for a moment and then did what they always did, peeped.

The hoomin looked so angry but he then gave the milkies anyway. You didn’t know why until Sensitibe’s see-pwaces went wide again and this time has red thingies around the edges.

He kept suckling because that was all he knew how to do to make hewties go away, but hewties were from the suckling. You panicked and finally lost your ability to stay calm. You bashed you hoofsies against the window until you lost your balance and fell backwards, being saved only by Dummeh, who caught you in his front weggies.

“nee tu hide!” you told him as you both scurried under the brown boxie. And soon enough the scawy hoomin stepped out to come find you.

You watched from under the little gap at the bottom you made with your weggie as the man shouted and looked around with his bangie stick.

“who the fuck is out there, aye?” he said before storming off.

You took your chance, you told Dummeh to come with you before you both threw off the boxie and scampered inside of the scawy metal housie.

It was small and smelled like poopies and bad gwassie nummies. But you weren’t here for that, you immediately got on Dummeh’s back and launched yourself up onto the chair. You tried to get your footing and then climbed up to see Sensitibe, still chirping madly.

You bit down and pulled each pin from his weggies until you finally had him free. You then pushed him off the edge and directly onto Dummeh’s back, who then took off without a second thought after you told him to.

You stood in fear as from the window, in the far off distance, you could see the scawy hoomin walking towards the small metal housie with a face of pure rage. You didn’t know what to do so you threw yourself down onto the chair and then onto the ground before searching for somewhere to hide.

You searched high and low… well, in truth you could only search low, but eventually you did find a twashie can and climbed in. It was small, not made from metal and was full of long rubber balloon thingies that smelled funny.

“MOTHERFUCKER!” the scawy man said when he noticed that his victim was taken away. You then heard banging, stompies and glassies breaking before he stormed off again outside again, then you made your escape.

You climbed out and ran as fast as your little weggies could take you, straight out of the bad housie, through the bad twashie yard and onto the sidiewalkies.

You knew where Dummeh was going, the same place you were, the park, to your herd.

It was only when looking back for a moment that you could see three very angry looking stallions running at you…

-to be continued-

chapter 6

chaptert 8

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Chapter 7, fresh off the keyboard.

I hope you all like the art, I am trying with just my phone and the sketch app so it isn’t all it could be I’m afraid. Nevertheless, I hope you like the visual nearly as much as I hope that you enjoy this continuation.

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Fluffies, sic balls.

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I probably should have explained that the stallions are ferals.

I’ve had my fill of Human vs Fluffy from writing this chapter and needed some good old fashioned Fluffy vs Fluffy abuse.

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Not gonna lie, I would a bit impressed if a pair of fluffies could pull that out, they are usually way more brain dead.

And as much as I hate with all my guts sensitive babies, I would let this one go, surprised to say this and I’ll be damn…but big respects to P.Smarty.

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Can’t wait for these three stooges try to be shit rats only to fuck around and find out what a decently smart poopie, a gentle giant who can wreck shit up if you try shit with every type of babies and my fav 002, can do if pushed around too much.

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I either hate SBS’s or I love them depending on whose writing them. some writers here are REALLY good and honing in on how fat, greedy and annoying they are while others are exceptionally talented at writing heart-warming stories about dedicated parents who don’t give up on them.

I’m still not sure what I’m even going to do with him. I’ll probably flip a coin on it.

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they’re an odd bunch and I’m looking forward to what happens next. even I don’t know, I just write on the spot… which explains why every chapter has been edited at least 4 times lmao.

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I feel ya, I usually round em up mostly towards negative cause they end up unconsciously, of fucking course since they are literally brain damaged, generators of other shitty bad behaviors in the programed brain of fluffies. Mummahs focusing on them, creating smarties, breaking up herds because of them, heck I wouldn’t even be surprised a litter turning into cannibals out of spite of being forgotten or pushed away because of their damaged brother/sister lack of awareness of their strength.

Yet I also admit that sbs like Otis (a chill one cause their handler did their best rising em) or some cases that through harsh training they end up being somewhat functional, these ones are usually where the author give em some sort of intelligence or conscience where they also realize they take surprisingly too much to become “talkie babbehs”

As for the fate of this one? Honestly my dude sorry for simping but I hope you go with your guts, so far you are doing some great work

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thank you, that really means a lot. I’m still not very confident in my writing and I have a tendency to look down on my own work. so hearing that I’m doing a good job means a ton. I’m sure my writing has at least attracted a few people and I’d hate to let them down.

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We are out own worst critic sometimes, and sometimes you gotta say fuck it and go for it my dude

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If I was outsmarted by fluffies like that, I’d just give up on my life

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The guy has that mongoloa style bad luck, I guess. You know, Murphy’s law hitting you like a truck when you underestimate a determined shit rat.

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