Previous part: The Strongest Muscle pt. 3 [by A-S]
The man unceremoniously shoved the dead mare’s body in the trash can. He quickly rinsed and dried the carrier to get the blood and shit out, then put it back on the table, before opening the duffle bag, grabbing the sleeping feral mother and grey foal and shoving them inside.
“Now Booger, here’s what we are going to do. Since I have some new friends to play with, I’ll cut you a deal. Give me your no-no stick and I let you go. Or, I give you forever sleepies and let these other fluffies go. Nod if you want to never have a family again but live, point them with your hoof if you want to die, knowing you saved them. The choice is yours.”
Booger was frozen in terror. He wanted to leave this horrible place immediately, go back to his little mummah, who lived in the nice housie near the park. But he didn’t want to lose his no-no stick. He’d never be able to give special huggies, or have babies ever again! It was the reason he’d left his old life to go with his special friend! However, he didn’t want to go forever sleepies either. But if he did, then these other fluffies would be spared what he had gone through. With a grave look on his face, the stallion stared at the no-see sorry box full of babies. He felt like throwing up, but he knew what he had to do.
Booger nodded.
Putting the jar down, the man got the grown fluffy out of his enclosure, brought him to the workbench and laid the stallion belly up with his legs spread open, securing them to the wooden surface with industrial tape. Then he grabbed a rusty pincer tool. Booger was trying his hardest, but he couldn’t stop himself from crying. When he saw the metal thingie that was going to take his no-no stick, he started crying harder. The human made a sudden movement and all the fluffy knew was pain.
The sound the poor stallion made was music to the man’s ears. Pure, unadulterated pain. Suffering at its finest. He was sure the fluffy’s scream would have been heard by the whole town had he not silenced him. He enjoyed his fruitless struggles, his whole body convulsing. Blood, piss and shit all leaking at the same time. He’d have to clean up, but it was worth it. Then, as suddendly as when he had torn his penis off, Booger froze, his eyes staring at the ceiling, unmoving. His tiny heart had given up.
“Tough luck buddy. Looks like little Martha is never going to see you again.”
Not that the man had any intention of ever letting him go. He couldn’t afford letting those rich assholes know about his little… passion.
The horrible screams had awoken the two ferals. Groggily standing up, the mare saw the human take the dead, bleeding fluffy from the table and throw him away. She looked at her son, then she saw the chirpies stuck in their glass prison on the bloody table. Her maternal instinct took over.
“BABBEHS! WHY AM BABBEHS IN NU SEE SOWWIE BOX? AM GUD BABBEHS!”
The man moved over in front of the mare, grabbing the jar along the way.
“Hello little one. I want to play a game. You like games, don’t you?”
The mare saw the boo boo juice on the man’s clothes and immediately knew he was a monster human. Still, fearing for her babies’ lives, she played along.
“Hew…hewwo nice mistah! Can mum…mummah hab babbehs backsies? Am onwy wittwe babbehs, nee’ miwkies an’ wub…”
“Well, why don’t we play a little game? You can have a baby back, if you give me one of your leggies! Three babies, three leggies, that seems fair.”
The mare was shocked. If she lost her leggies, she couldn’t carry the babies, or hug them, or play with them, or anything else! The foals would certainly go forever sleepies! But if she didn’t lose her leggies, they would still die!
“Buh… buh, mummah nee’ weggies fo’ babbehs. If fwuffy hab onwy wun weggie, nu can gib huggies ow nummies!”
The man sighed, feigning sadness and reaching for the red chirpy as he spoke.
“Then I fear I must give all these babies forever sleepies. Just remember, this was your choice.”
He loved to gaslight mothers, make them think that if they sacrificed themselves, they could save their foals. But before the mare could even speak, the young grey fluffy yelled.
“Meanie mistah am onwy dummie poopie hooman! Nu can gib owwies tu fwuffy, onwy wittwe babbehs!”
The man was stunned. Had that shitrat just called him poopy and stupid?
“How. Dare. YOU?”
The man screamed as he violently put the jar down, causing both the chirpies inside and the mare in the carrier to void their bowels in fear. He would enjoy making this one suffer so much. This filthy animal was going to see his whole family die. He would crave death, but his wish would never be granted. He unlocked the carrier, grabbing the grey fluffy. The mother tried to stop him, but got a bloody nose instead, so she resolved to plead for her son’s life.
“Huu huu, nu huwt Big Babbeh. Am onwy babbeh, nu mean what babbeh say.”
“Now young man, you will regret speaking up to me. I was even going to adopt you, since I liked your colors. But good fluffies can’t be rude if they want to make daddy happy…”
He was lying. But usually fluffies couldn’t tell and would beg for forgiveness. This one didn’t. He strapped him down like he had done with Booger, belly down this time, then grabbed the sorry stick. The man hit the foal’s rump. Not a sound came from the animal. Twice. Again, the foal was silent. Three times. Tears were forming in his eyes, but he still refused to cry. The man was infuriated. The fucking shitrat dared to insult him AND rob him of his pleasure too? He took out a whip-like stick. This one would leave a mark. He hit the grey fluffy on the back this time, drawing blood. Tears now flowed freely, but still he hadn’t made that beautiful “SCREE” the man loved hearing. Again. More blood was drawn. Again. But beyond a small puddle of piss, the stubborn foal still refused to screech.
Truth is, the young fluffy was screaming internally, trying his hardest not to let his family know of his pain. Adrenaline and sheer determination keeping him going. He felt every hit, each one worse than the last. He started to lose consciousness after the sixth. Boo boo juice was coming out of him, dampening his fur. He gazed at his family one last time, lacking the strength to tell them he loved them. The human raised his hand, his face a mask of pure rage and pent up aggression. He knew this time he would scream, he could feel himself slipping.
CRASH
Just as he was about to maul the grey shitrat to death for ruining his fun, the man heard a noise coming from upstairs. Angrily stepping into his living room, he saw one of his windows had been broken, as if someone had thrown something at it. Then there was another sound of glass shattering, coupled with pain. The man fell to the ground, his vision swallowed by darkness.
The earthie foal woke up to the feel of his back burning up. He yelped and tried to move, but he found out he couldn’t. A younger man, different from the one who was giving him hurties was cleaning his wounds, holding the animal still with his hand.
“Hey little guy, you’re finally awake. I wasn’t sure you’d wake up, but your mother insisted you were ‘a toughie’. Looks like she was right”
The foal looked around. He was in a strange place. He couldn’t see his mummah or the babbehs anywhere. Sensing what the fluffy was looking for, the human spoke again.
"Don’t worry, your family is safe. They are sleeping now, but once you are feeling well you’ll see them again, I promise.”
With a hoarse voice, the foal asked a simple question.
”What am pwomise?”
The human laughed.
”A promise is something you say you do, then you do it, no matter what happens.”
The fluffy was silent. He remembered his own promise. Then he spoke again.
"Nice mistah?”
The human chuckled, though it was a bittersweet laughter.
”No little fluffy, I am not nice. I am a thief. I… take others’ things, without permission. Truth is, tonight should have been no different. I was stealing, while that man was busy with your family. I used you as a distraction. Then I heard what you said. Unlike the fluffy before you, you chose to protect your family, even if it meant getting hurt. You didn’t even scream. That’s why I helped you…”
The foal couldn’t quite understand all the man was saying. But it seemed like he had heart hurties. So he did the only thing he could do to help him. He hugged his hand, before falling asleep from exhaustion.
The young man had been thinking. When his abusive father had croaked, his grandparents had taken him in. He had done nothing but disappoint them. He had dropped out of school, hung around unsavory people, started doing his first “jobs”. He had never apologized to his family. He had always put himself first. Maybe it was his father’s influence. Maybe it was having never known his mother. Maybe he simply was an asshole. Then, this young fluffy had done what he himself never had. He did something for someone else because it was the right thing to do. Even if he obviously lacked the strength to beat his enemy. Suddendly, he remembered something his army veteran grandpa, Casey “Spike” Irwing (as he was known back then), had told him one time he had come back from a school fight with a black eye.
“Sometimes, you don’t win just by being strong or cunning. Sometimes, you just need guts to pull something off. Sometimes, the heart truly is the strongest muscle.”
It was almost dawn. The young man stopped in front of a fluffy veterinary’s office. It would open soon. He left the whole family sleeping in a box right outside the door, alongisde a note explaining the situation, making sure someone had found them before driving off. He was sure little Spike and his family would be ok. Maybe he’d even check on them sometimes.
But right now? He had someone to apologize to.
So, this is the end of our brave Spike’s story. At least, my personal take on it.
I hope I managed to entertain whoever read it. If not, I apologize.
I also hope the Spike I depicted did justice to the original concept.
Anyway, thanks to everyone who went through the ordeal that was my first experiment.
