You’re Daisy. You’re a very, very clever fluffy mare.
Your daddy wouldn’t let you have babies, so you ran away. Then you joined this feral herd and got special huggies, but still no babies; eventually, you figured out that the smarty was a meanie like daddy and wasn’t letting the stallions put tummy babies in you. But you were smarter and trickier than the smarty; you saw through his meanie plot to deprive you of the babies you so richly deserved, and came up with a plan to get tummeh babbehs anyway.
Every time one of the herd mares has babies, you’re there. Smarty decided that since you wanted babies so badly, you would help all the mummahs when they have their babies. Normally, rolling the soon-mummahs everywhere, fetching them nummies, and cleaning their bad poopies in the safe place would grate on you, but you’re always SO EXCITED about the babies. Especially since you came up with your plan.
Right now, Sunfwowa, a yellow mare with brown mane and tail, is having ‘biggest poopies’ and her babies are coming. You’re all alone in the safe place with her, so no one can see what you’re doing and report it back to the smarty. You want to surprise him and see the look on his face when he realizes what a dummy he is, because you outsmarted him.
Crouching behind Sunfwowa while she pushes, you catch the first baby as it comes out and lick the yickies off of it. Yellow, like her mummah, with a hint of pale blue where her mane and tail are going to be. The next baby is a brown colt, the same color as his mummah’s mane. Then another colt, yellow again with no indication of what color his mane will be. The fourth and final baby is a pale blue filly, with yellow fuzz where her mane and tail will grow in. This one is the prettiest, and therefore clearly the best, baby. You want her for yourself.
Quickly, before her mummah can turn around and see, you stick the chirpy baby into your mouth and swallow. She wriggles around in your tummy and you feel the warm glow of satisfaction as she grows still and joins all her new brothers and sisters in your tummy. When you finally have biggest poopies and all your babies come out, you’ll have SO MANY BABIES! You’ve been stealing the best babies for yourself every time another litter is made, and you long ago surpassed your ability to count how many babies you’d put into your tummy. Won’t the smarty feel stupid when he sees you figured out his plan and gave yourself tummy babies! And since you’ve been stealing only the prettiest and bestest babies, all of your babies are going to be so much better than the ugly, dummy babies all the other mummahs have! Instead of you being jealous of them for having babies, they’ll all be jealous of you for having the bestest babies!
Your plan is foolproof.
Sunfwowa turns around and gathers her three inferior babies and starts cooing and feeding them. You give her some space and rub your belly with your hoofsies; you can’t wait for your babies to come!
You’re Smarty. Sunfwowa, the oldest of your foals, has finally had her babies and they’re now old enough that she can carry them on her back and join the rest of the herd while looking for nummies. That dummy mare, Daisy, the one so obsessed with babies that it’s literally all she ever talks about, gives you an odd look and trots away grinning. On the one hand, you’re glad you don’t have to listen to her babble about babies yet again. On the other hand, that’s the sort of look you’ve been given three times in the past; all three times, it was a stallion plotting to overthrow you as smarty. You didn’t get to be smarty and defend your position from three would-be usurpers by being stupid or overly trusting, so you follow her from a safe distance.
Daisy is a house fluffy, who used to have a hoomin daddy, and her survival skills could generously be described as lacking. She is ridiculously easy for you to follow without her catching on. For fluff’s sake, when you first took her into the herd, she was too stupid to know she could eat grassies! She ought to be more grateful at your generosity for taking her in and teaching her how to survive, but all she ever does is complain or babble about how much she wants babies.
Hiding behind a bush, you watch her as she moves away from the herd to make poopies, as you taught her; when she first joined the herd, she just made poopies where the rest of the herd was grazing, like the dummy fluffies you’ve seen in other herds. You had to get your toughies to pound the lesson into her: poopies did not go in the same place the herd got its nummies.
Paranoid that she’s plotting something, you watch as she makes poopies. The whole time, she chants to herself in a sing-song voice, “Daisy am cwevew, Smawty du knuuuuu! Daisy am cwevew, Smawty du knuuuu!” You were right. She IS up to something. But what? Surely she isn’t going to try to oust you as smarty; she’s too stupid to pull it off, and none of the other fluffies would support her. So what is she planning? The dummy mare finishes making poopies, then trots off to join the rest of the herd in gathering nummies. You get up to follow and- pause. What is THAT?
Mixed in with Daisy’s poopies is something fuzzy and pale blue. It looks odd, and it’s all mixed in with her poopies. You sniff and are immediately repulsed; UGH! It smells even worse than regular poopies! What would make her poopies have blue fuzzy bits and smell so horrible? Shaking your head to get the stench out, you go to rejoin the herd before anyone notices your absence.
The mysterious poopies forgotten, you ponder what sinister machinations Daisy could be up to.
You’re Daisy. The weather has been getting hot, too hot. All the fluffies in the herd are panting in their thick fluff, and the heat is too much for the babies, especially the little chirpy babies. The smarty announces that all the babies must remain in the safe place while their mummahs look for nummies with the rest of the herd, and appoints you to keep an eye on the babies. You LOVE babies!
Now you’re alone in the safe place, surrounded by babies. Bunches of little chirpy babies are crawling all over you and snuggling in your fluff, chirping. None are hungry yet, since their mummahs gave them all miwkies before leaving to find nummies, so they’re all well behaved and relatively quiet. The older talky babies are all playing near the entrance to the safe place. You pick up the prettiest baby, a soft red, chirpy wingy baby, and bounce him in your hoofsies.
“Whee! Babbeh gu upsies! Whee!”
He chirps, blinking his eyes at you. He’s such a pretty baby. You really wish he was your pretty chirpy baby. His sister was even prettier, and you hid her in your tummy with your other tummy babies when she was born. But this one is pretty too; this is a good baby. You really wish you could have him too.
Well… He only opened his eyes a day or two ago, so you guess he’s still close enough to a tummy baby to count, right?
“Pwetty babbeh? Yoo wan nyu mummah? Daisy can be yoo mummah! Daisy bestest mummah! Yoo be Daisy’s widdwe chiwpy babbeh?”
The baby blinks at you again, squirming in your hoofsies, and chirps. Surely that means he wants you to be his mummah and not that dummy feral mare? You’ve made your decision.
Opening your mouth, you carefully push the baby inside with your hoofsies, feeling his little wingies buzz and his chirping get more frantic. He’s so excited that you’re gonna be his new mummah! You carefully close your mouth, so you don’t hurt your baby with your teefies, and swallow. He’s a little bigger than the babbehs you usually put in your tummy, and he isn’t slick with yickies, so he’s harder to swallow, but he eventually goes down into your tummy. You feel him wiggling around in your tummy longer than usual too; silly baby! He’s so excited to have a new, better mummah, he can’t settle down and have nappies with his new brothers and sisters until it’s time for your biggest poopies. Finally, he stops moving and you rub your belly, satisfied at having stolen another pretty baby, with none of the dummy ferals any the wiser! More chirpy babies crawl around in your fluff, chirping, and you pick up an ugly orange one with your hoofsies, shaking it up and down. It chirps loudly and waves it hoofsies frantically; it likes being shaken! You shake it more vigorously and the baby chirps even louder and wiggles so much it’s hard to hold onto it; silly baby, don’t have too much fun, you might get dropped!
One of the talky babies trots over, her tail wiggling excitedly, and asks you to play. You toss the ugly baby aside, ignoring its loud chirps at being abandoned for a prettier baby, and stand up, chirpy babies falling and tumbling out of your fluff.
“Otay, babbeh! Wet’s pway chase!”
You chase after the talky baby, almost stepping on some chirpy babies a couple times; silly chirpy babies, you shouldn’t be in the way when big fluffies are playing! You bat them aside with your hoofsies and keep chasing after the talky baby. You see another talky baby, a much prettier one, and crouch down, wiggling excitedly.
“Gunna getchu, babbeh! Daisy gonna getchu!”
“NUUUUUUUUUUUU!”
The baby shrieks and runs out of the safe place, huuhuuing the entire way. You blink in surprise, then shrug. It must be a dummy, like her mummah. You go back to chasing the first talky baby.
“A-HEM.”
Startled, you make scaredy peepees and stop to look at the entrance to the safe place. Smarty is there, holding the baby that ran away in his mouth. She’s still crying. What a dummy! He puts the baby down in her nestie, then gives you a nasty look.
“Why babbeh nu in safe pwace?”
“Babbeh wun away!” you reply, amazed that he’s too stupid to understand what happened. And this is the smarty? Pathetic! You’re much cleverer than he is.
“Daisy am 'posed tuh watch babbehs. Babbehs nee stay in safe pwace. Babbehs nu weave. Daisy stahp babbehs if babbehs twy weave safe pwace wifout dem mummahs.”
You scoff and roll your eyes. The talky baby boops you with a hoofsie and runs away, giggling. You resume the chase.
“Gun getchu, babbeh!”
Another chirpy baby rolls out into the way and you bat him aside, ignoring his squealing as you continue the chase game. Suddenly, the wind is knocked from you and it takes you a second to realize why; Smarty just tackled you!
“Nuh faiw! Smawty nu say he pwayin wif Daisy! Huuhuu, dat huwt!”
“Dummeh mawe! Yoo gif owies tu widdwe chiwpy babbeh! Aww da chiwpy babbehs am cwyin, why yoo nu hewp babbehs?”
You’re confused; you were just playing with the chirpy babies a minute ago. They’re fine.
“Nu am dummeh! Smawty dummeh! Daisy wan pway wif babbeh- Owies!”
He hit your nosie! Why is Smarty so mean to you?!
“Nu tawk tu Smawty wike dat! Yoo da dummeh! Yoo awways tawk bout babbehs, say yoo gun be gud mummah, but yoo nu take cawe uf babbehs! Yoo stuuuuupi mawe! Gu way, dummeh Daisy! Smawty nu wan wook at yoo wight now!”
You leave the safe place, huuhuuing and feeling sorry for yourself, while Smarty fusses over the chirpy babies. Stupid Smarty! The babies were fine. You were just playing with the others for a while. The mummahs and stallions give you odd looks as they pass by, their fluff stuffed full of nummies, and you follow them back into the safe place, huddling in the dirt near the entrance, still feeling sorry for yourself. You don’t understand what you did wrong; you’re a good fluffy! You have bunches and bunches of tummy babies, and they’re all the prettiest, bestest tummy babies! That means you’re the bestest mummah! So why is the smarty so mean to you?
“Babbeh? Whewe babbeh? Babbeh! Pwetty wed, wingy babbeh! Mummah hewe! Babbeh?”
Stupid smarty. You’ll show him.
Another mare is having biggest poopies; she’s the last soon-mummah in the herd. Smarty says no more special huggies, because all the babies need to be big and strong for when the cold times come and they’ll be too little if they make any more now. Stupid smarty! What does he know? Doesn’t he understand that it’s HOT now, not cold? Ugh, he’s such a dummy!
You’re crouched behind the mare, waiting for her babies to come. Thanks to that dummy smarty, this will be your last chance to steal a pretty baby for yourself in the foreseeable future. Unfortunately, the mare’s special friend is RUINING IT for you. You glare at the sand-colored stallion as he nervously frets over his special friend, unable to help. The mare pushes, and a little white baby plops out onto the ground; you didn’t catch it because the stallion distracted you, and you can’t steal one of the babies if he’s watching. You have to get rid of him.
“Dummeh fwuffy! Yoo usewess! Mummah nee nummies to make miwkies fow babbehs! Gu fine nummies!”
This makes sense to him, and the frantic stallion runs off out of the safe place, leaving you alone with the mare and the babies plopping onto the ground behind her. You grin to yourself, pleased at your cleverness, and clean off all the babies as they come out. The white one that came out first is the prettiest and bestest baby, a little earthy filly with just a hint of pink where her mane and tail will be. She’s definitely the prettiest baby, and you want her for yourself. The new mummah, huffing with exertion, is starting to get her wind back; you have to be quick, before she turns around and sees. You hurriedly stuff the prettiest white baby in your mouth and swallow. She doesn’t wiggle even a little; such a good baby!
“Hewe babbehs, mummah hewe! Haf miwkies!”
You sit and watch the nameless feral mare give miwkies to two of her chirpy babies, fantasizing about when you’ll finally get to give miwkies to your own chirpy babies. You’ll be the bestest mummah, with the bestest babies. They’ll see. They’ll all see. And you’ll tell that smarty what a dummy he really is.
Speaking of which, the stallion has returned with some grassies in his fluff, followed by the smarty and the rest of the herd. The proud daddeh lifts his babbehs up one by one and shows them to the smarty, who declares them all to be good babies. The stallion turns back to his special friend one last time and pauses, confusion evident on his face.
“Whewe white babbeh?”
You freeze. He saw the bestest babbeh before you stole it? Oh no! Smarty is giving you an odd look, but gets distracted by the stallions frantic searching.
“Babbeh? Whewe babbeh? White babbeh! Daddeh hewe! Whewe pwetty white babbeh?!”
The new mummah is confused.
“Pechow fwend? Mummah nu haf white babbeh.”
“Uh-huh! Fwuffy see white babbeh fuwst, den weave tu get nummies for miwkies! White babbeh hewe! Whewe white babbeh?”
You need to deal with this.
“Dummeh fwuffy! Dewe nu white babbeh! Yoo stuuuupi fwuffy!”
He lays down and huuhuus, beating his head with his hoofsies and swearing he saw a white baby. His special friend holds her babies to her miwkie places, just as confused as he is and not understanding why he’s upset. Smarty gives you an odd look again and you give him a raspberry. He suddenly looks angry and lurches toward you.
“Yeep!”
Tail tucked between your legs, you flinch away, not wanting more owies from the meany smarty, and he goes right back to where he was, looking disgustingly satisfied at your reaction. He hugs the confused, upset stallion and tries to comfort him as best he can, not really understanding what’s bothering him.
It’s really hot again, and Smarty decides all the babies must stay in the safe place while the mummahs help find nummies. You immediately volunteer to stay and watch the babies; you LOVE babies! He looks at you doubtfully, but none of the other fluffies volunteer; all the mummahs want a break from watching their babies. Stupid mummahs; when you have your babies, you’ll NEVER leave them, 'cause you love babies so much! Clearly, you’re a much better mummah than any of them are.
“Fine. Daisy stay wif babbehs.”
“Nuuuuu!”
One of the talky babies runs and hides behind her mummah, wailing.
“Nu weaf babbeh wif Daisy! Daisy munsta! Num babbehs!”
“Whu? Babbeh, dat siwwy!”
“Nu! Is twue! Daisy am munsta who num babbehs! Pwease nu weaf babbeh wif Daisy!” another talky baby shouts shrilly, hiding behind another mare.
Did… did they see when you stole the chirpy baby? You were surprised when the mummah noticed her babbeh was missing; none had ever noticed before, and you made sure none of the big fluffies were there when you put the baby in your tummy, but… maybe the talky babies saw? Smarty is giving you that odd look again.
“Babbehs nu wan Daisy stay wif dem. Daisy am bad wif babbehs anyway. Daisy cum with hewd and fine nummies, Sunfwowa stay wif babbehs.”
Did- did he say you’re BAD with BABIES?! It’s all you can do to restrain yourself from attacking the smarty at this slur; how DARE he! You’re the BESTEST with babies and you know it!
“Bu- bu Sunfwowa nee gu owside! Sunfwowa nu gu owside in foweva! Nee wun and pway!”
Smarty, caught between the logic of his daughter’s argument and his desire not to be seen as wishy-washy, waffles for a minute, then shrugs.
“Sunfwowa gu owside wif hewd fow widdwe time, bu den nee cum back and watch babbehs. Daisy stay wif babbehs untiw Sunfwowa cum back.”
Sunflower hops and skips with glee, leaving her babies with you, and you sit in the safe place, surrounded by babies, and grin with satisfaction. Smarty sees you and, for the first time since you joined his herd, looks a little scared.
That’s right. We’ll see who’s cleverest here, Smarty!
The two talky babies who didn’t want to stay with you are hiding in one of the nesties together, shaking and huuhuuing any time you come near them. You didn’t want to play with them anyway; they’re dummies. You chase after the talky baby you played chase with last time, giggling and taunting her as she laughs and springs around the safe place. You’re bigger, but she’s faster and more agile. She dodges and weaves between nesties, and you surprise her by charging THROUGH a nestie straight at her, taking a shortcut. Something gets underfoot, nearly tripping you, and you kick it away; you vaguely hear a chirpy baby start screeching for attention nearby. Stupid baby, your mummah already gave you miwkies!
You just manage to tackle the talky baby, and scoop her up with your front hoofsies. She giggles and gives you huggies. You like this baby. She’s so pretty, and she plays with you, not like the boring chirpy babies or those dummy crying babies. You look at her with interest; she’s pretty and fun. Maybe… maybe she could be your baby too?
“Babbeh wike pway wif Daisy?”
“giggle Pway, pway!”
“Babbeh wuv Daisy?”
“Wuv!”
Your heart glows. This is a good baby. You should steal her for yourself.
“Babbeh… babbeh wan nyu mummah?”
She cocks her head to one side and blinks.
“Nyu mummah?”
“Das wight, babbeh! Daisy am yoo nyu mummah!”
“Babbeh aweady haf mummah…”
“Nu, yoo am Daisy babbeh now!”
She’s much bigger than the little chirpy babies you’ve stolen in the past, but you’re sure if you can get her in your tummy then she’ll go back to being a happy tummy baby like the others. Then when you have biggest poopies and all your pretty babies come out, she’ll be YOUR baby and play with you all the time!
You lift her to your face and open your mouth, trying to fit her inside headfirst.
“Nu! Nu! Babbeh nu am nummies! Nu num babbeh!”
“Siwwy babbeh, Daisy nu num babbeh! Daisy put babbeh in tummeh, make babbeh tummeh babbeh!”
“Nu! Nuuuuuuu! Babbeh nu am nummies!”
You close your mouth over the struggling baby; her hindquarters are still sticking out of your mouth, weggies kicking frantically. The two scaredy babies hiding in the nestie together start crying even louder and you can smell their scaredy poopies. You turn to yell at them for being bad babies and freeze.
Smarty and two toughies are standing in the entrance to the safe place, mouths hanging open in shock. You freeze. You hadn’t anticipated being caught in the act.
Suddenly, one of the toughies leaps at you, tackling you and stomping you with his hoofsies, screaming.
“Wet toughie babbeh gu! Wet gu! Bad, BAD, meanie mawe! Gif toughie babbeh back!”
He stomps on your tummy- meanie! That’s bad for your tummy babies!- and you spit the talky baby back out, coughing painfully. The toughie scoops the sobbing baby up in his hoofsies and hugs it, while it wails, “Daaa-aaa-aaa-ddeeeeh! Meanie fwuffy twy num babbeh! Huuhuuhuu!”
The two scaredy poopie babies run and hide behind the smarty, babbling nonsense about you eating babies. The other talky babbehs are all staring at you, frightened. You’re vaguely aware of the chirpy babies getting upset from all the noise. One of them is STILL screeching for attention! What a selfish baby!
The other toughie walks to where the chirpy babies are, hugging the wall to give you a wide berth, and sniffs the loudest one. He hugs it and it still keeps screeching for attention.
“Babbeh haf bad weggie owies. Sumbuddy tep on babbeh.”
He glares at you venomously and you blink in confusion. Is THAT why it was so loud and fussy? Who could have stepped on it? You were the only one here! It’s dummy mummah must have stepped on it before she left the safe place; what a terrible mummah! You’re definitely gonna be a much, much better mummah than any of these dummies when you have your biggest poopies.
This whole time, Smarty has been staring at you, not moving or saying a thing. Finally, he looks away from you and makes moufie yickies all over the safe place. The talky babies accusing you of numming babies both complain about, “nu smeww pwetty!” and go back to hiding in one of the nesties.
You’re Smarty. And you don’t know what the fuck. You came into the safe place to tell Daisy to go outside and look for nummies; Sunfwowa was on her way back and you and your toughies could surely supervise some babies until she got there.
But when you got inside and your eyes adjusted to the dim light of the safe place, you heard one of the babies begging not to be eaten and Daisy was putting her in her mouth! She was going to num the baby! Two of the bigger babies, the same ones who didn’t want to be left with Daisy and said she was a monster that ate babies, run and hide behind you while a toughie tackles Daisy and rescues his baby from her. You’re frozen motionless, in shock. It fits. It all fits. The mummah who said her babbeh was missing after Daisy watched them all. The stallion who swore his special friend had a white babbeh, but it wasn’t there after he left his special friend alone with Daisy. And now you caught her in the act of trying to eat one of the babies.
You almost don’t notice the other toughie hugging a chirpy baby, informing you that it was stepped on by a bigger fluffy. The only fluffy big enough to step on it is Daisy. She stepped on a chirpy baby and didn’t even care. She tried to eat a baby, you saw her do it. A baby went missing. A stallion was convinced he had a white baby, but nobody else ever saw it. It all fits. It…
You just realized what the strange blue fuzz was in Daisy’s awful-smelling poopies.
Baby fluff.
She’s been eating babies this whole time.
You make sickie wawas all over the ground over and over again, until you have nothing left to make sickies with, but your tummy keeps squeezing, trying to make more sickies. You’ve never been so horrified, so disgusted in your life!
Why didn’t you notice sooner? Why didn’t you pay attention to the signs? You’re a horrible smarty. You should have done a better job protecting your herd from this monster. How… how many babies did she eat?
“How… how wong Daisy num babbehs fow?”
She looks at you disdainfully and replies, “Daisy nu num babbehs! Yoo dummeh! Daisy put babbehs in tummeh so Daisy haf tummeh babbehs!”
“Yoo… whu?” That… you’re a fluffy. Logic isn’t your greatest strength. You’re smart enough to know how stupid you and your kind really are, in the grand scheme of things. Even to you, that doesn’t make sense.
“Stuuuuuuupi Smawty! Yoo am stuuuuuupi dummeh, poopie fwuffy! Yoo tink yoo am su smawt! Daisy smawtew dan yoo! Daisy am cwevew! Daisy know yoo twick Daisy, nu wet hew haf tummeh babbehs! So Daisy take bestest babbehs and put in tummeh, so now Daisy haf tummeh babbehs! Dummeh Smawty! Now Daisy haf tummeh babbehs, gunna be mummah! Nu mowe mean smawty keepin Daisy fwum haffin babbehs!”
She’s insane. Your kind don’t really have a solid grasp on the concept of sanity, but you’re quite certain that she’s insane.
“How wong Daisy- ulp- num babbehs fow?”
“Stuuuuupi Smawty! Daisy put babbehs in tummeh AWW! DA! TIME!”
You’re dizzy. You’re going to fall over. She’s… oh no, she’s been eating babies the whole time she’s been with the herd! She’s been eating your herd’s babies this whole time, and you never knew! No, NO!
The horror grips you completely as you realize the implications: when your special friend had babies again, she did it after Daisy was here. Your special friend was the first one Daisy helped with her biggest poopies. She ate your special friend’s baby. She ate YOUR baby. Sunfwowa is your oldest baby, and she had babies recently. She ate SUNFWOWA’s baby too!
Oh hey, guess you did have something else to make sickies with.
Sputtering and spitting the awful taste from your mouth, you look up at the baby eater and she has the most sickening grin of satisfaction on her face.
Sunfwowa walks in and stands beside you, looking at the tableau in front of her with confusion.
“Whu gu on?”
You’re Daisy. It took a long time, but Smarty finally regained his composure. He didn’t get angry. He didn’t shout, he didn’t scream, he didn’t give you owies. He just looked at you. It took a while, but you finally figured out what that look meant: he was scared of you.
Ha! The great and mighty Smarty, and now he knew just how clever you were! You’d seen through his deception and you’d taken all the bestest babies of the herd for yourself! He tried to keep you from having babies, and now all the prettiest, bestest babies were yours! Now he knew who was really smarty, and it scared him.
The mummahs all screamed when the toughies told them you were a baby-eater; they all hugged their babies and hid them in their fluff, and their screams and crying got even louder when Smarty told them that you’d eaten one of their babies. You tried to explain that you hadn’t eaten the babies, you just put them in your tummy so they’d be your babies now, but they just screamed and cried even louder. The stallions had to be physically restrained by the smarty and his toughies to prevent them from attacking you. Finally, they all joined their special friends to hug and cry with them. They were soooooo jealous that all the best babies were yours! Your plan worked perfectly!
“Toughies, you cum wif Smawty. Yoo,” Smarty pointed at the sand-colored stallion who’d noticed you’d stolen his white baby. “Yoo cum too. Bwing Daisy.”
“Whu, whu Smawty du?”
“Smawty am deaw wif dis.”
All four of the toughies push you out of the safe place, headbutting and biting you to make you move. You protest and fuss at them for giving you owies; those are bad for your tummy babies! Smarty and the sandy stallion lead the way, and the toughies bully you into following along. You can hear the mummahs and their special friends wailing with the knowledge of how much cleverer you are even as you leave the safe place behind.
You’re roughly shoved along for a long, long way, until you leave the trees and grass and come to a big, open space. It’s too hot to walk all this way! You glance around, and the ground as far as you can see is that flat, black rock that hoomins like to put outside their houses. You see a really big house on the other side of the black ground and recognize it as the ‘Waww-mawt’ place daddy sometimes took you to.
Smarty walks out onto the black rock and hisses in pain, but forges ahead anyway. The sandy stallion yelps as soon as his soft, leathery hooves touch the black rock, but he follows the smarty. The toughies shove you and tear at your fluff, and you stumble out onto the black rock too.
Ow! Ow! OWIES! Hot! The black rock is giving you burnie owies! The stallions all shove you further and further onto the black rock, all of them wincing and stepping gingerly. What’s going on? Why did they bring you here? The black rock is burning your tender hoofsies! It’s so hot, you can see the air dancing! This is a bad place! Why would they come here?
Smarty looks at you, expressionless, for a long time, ignoring the searing pain in his hoofsies and standing motionless. The toughies and other stallion are all hopping from foot to foot like you, unable to bear the pain caused by the hot black rock you’re standing on.
Finally, never taking his eyes off you, Smarty quietly speaks.
“Bweak hew weggies.”
Wait, what? You shriek in agony as the four toughies and the sandy stallion stomp, kick, and jump on you. You fall to the ground, shrieking as it burns you, and then shriek even louder as you feel something snap in one of your leggies. Then another leggie makes an audible POP as a toughie stomps on it and you buckle, unable to stand back up. Before long, all four of your leggies are broken and won’t listen to you or help you stand up. The sandy stallion keeps stomping on you, screeching over and over, “WAN WHITE BABBEH! WAN WHITE BABBEH! YOO NUM MAH BABBEH! YOO AM BAD, BAD FWUFFY! WAN WHITE BABBEH!”
Smarty intervenes after a long moment, and the stallion stops giving you owies. You huuhuu and cry that your tummy babies are going to have hurties if they keep giving you owies. Smarty nudges the stallion and the toughies, and they all start heading back across the vast expanse of hot, HOT black rock for the much cooler grassies. Once they reach the grassies, they all sit down and give their hot hoofsies lickies to cool them off. Except Smarty. He’s just staring at you, expressionless. You struggle to get to your feet, moaning in agony at the pain in your broken leggies and the terrible, burnie owies the black rock is giving you. The sun is beating down on you, your fluff feels so hot! Your mouth is dry and thirsty. You need wawa, badly! You need someplace cool to lay! You need huggies! You need… you need your babies!
You cry and beg Smarty and the others to help you, but the toughies and stallion scream insults and lies at you, calling you a baby-eater, a poopie face, and a dummy. Not Smarty. Smarty just watches you in silence. You stare at him, not understanding. Why doesn’t he say anything? Why won’t he help you? Why did he bring you out here?
Then, sudden realization hits you. You know what’s happening.
He brought you here to die in the most horrible fashion he could conceive of.
He sees understanding in your face, and slowly he grins, nodding. You’re going to die here. And after all that hard work and planning, you’re never going to have your babies. It was all for nothing.
He won after all.
You’re Rod, the guy who goes and retrieves all the shopping carts from the parking lot and takes them to the front of the store. Right now, there’s absolutely no customers, being as it’s the middle of the work day and most people don’t want to go shopping when it’s 106 degrees in the shade, one of the hottest days of the year. It’s too hot for you to be out here. You’re taking a break sitting in your car with the A/C on.
Suddenly, a bunch of fluffies come out of the field next to the parking lot and walks out onto the hot asphalt. Man, it’s so hot, the tar was melting and sticking to the bottom of your shoes! Those critters are even dumber than you thought if they’re walking out onto that! You’ve seen them come and scavenge food dropped by customers in the parking lot before, but only just before dark, and never when it was this hot. What are they doing?
Right before your eyes, the fluffies all turn on one of their own and attack it. They’re really beating the shit out of it, and one of them is screaming especially loud; you can actually hear it from inside your car, though you can’t make out any of the words. You text your boss that you’re taking your lunch break and open up a pizza Lunchables while watching the spectacle in front of you; this is fucking entertaining! You always thought those cutesy, cartoonish little critters were basically all about hugs and friendship and giving people diabetes with how sickeningly adorable they are, but this is pretty hardcore! You can see blood and bones sticking out even from here!
They finish beating on the other fluffy and retreat to the grass, obviously feeling the heat from the hot asphalt. The one they attacked is laying there, sizzling on the parking lot surface, flopping around with its broken legs and crying. It keeps trying to cross the parking lot and failing miserably; it’s too far away to get to the grass with its broken limbs. It might as well be crossing the Sahara.
You finish your snack and open a cold soda, watching the scene unfold before you. This is like something out of Lord of the Flies, the cute, innocent fluffies suddenly turning murderous for no apparent reason. You wonder what motivated them to attack their buddy like that. Whatever the reason, they sit and watch it suffer on the hot asphalt.
It takes over an hour for the fluffy to bake to death on the parking lot, but it finally dies. You’re pretty sure it’s dead, anyway; it’s laying on its side, tongue lolling out, eyes open, one eyeball making physical contact with the asphalt. You don’t think it would do that unless it were genuinely dead.
The other fluffies seem to agree, and you think this is what they were waiting for. They get up and slowly make their way across the field into the trees, stopping once to give each other hugs before continuing on their way. You shut the car off and get out, heading toward the cart corral to start bringing carts back to the front of the store. You nudge the fluffy on the asphalt with your foot; yup, definitely dead. You wonder, not for the first time, why they decided to kill this one in what is honestly a pretty horrific, and badass, fashion.
Eh, they’re fluffies. Who’ll ever understand what those dumb fuzzballs are thinking?
and worst she didnt even care hurting chirpies! 
Just kick them out of the way, what pea brain bitch.