Warmy was bored.
Mummah was taken by the humans for some reason, but they promised she’d be back soon. She liked to do dances for mummah, she always got a big hug for doing them.
Blueberry and Wiggle were playing ball with each other, and Softpetal was napping like she normally did.
Warmy watched Blueberry giggle as he chased the ball. Why mummah make yu bestes’ babbeh? Yu am dummeh, Bwubewwy. Wawmy am smawtes’ babbeh, an’ do bestes’ dancies fo’ mummah awways! Wawmy shud be bestes’ babbeh…
She rolled onto her side. Warmy had played with all the toys, stacked all the blocks, chased all the balls, pushed all the little wooden cars, crawled through all the tubes and climbing frames, and she was bored.
She was so bored.
She would be a big fluffy soon, she knew. In fact, she was almost as big as mummah. Maybe in this ‘twaining fwoor’ the humans spoke of she could find new friends and toys.
Maybe she wouldn’t be so bored then.
She stretched out on her tummy across the padded floor, and exercised her little yellow wings by flapping them fast for a few seconds then yawned and flopped back onto her side, facing towards the litterbox.
She was about to close her eyes and nap when a voice that was not her own spoke in her head: wittahbawks am whewe poopie babbeh du sweepies.
The ideas started to come to her immediately; poopie babbehs were bad babbehs, mummah had always said, and bad babbehs only get hurties.
And Warmy thought that hurties were fun.
Of course, when she did it to Wiggle or Softpetal, mummah always stopped her. She never did it to bestest baby Blueberry, she knew better.
But the poopie? She’d always avoided him and his stink, but if he was a bad babbeh…
A wide grin snaked across her face. She hopped up, trotted over to the litterbox, and around the corner is where she found him, head buried in his hooves, sleeping.
As Warmy got close, she started to smell his stench. He used to sleep behind the litterbox, but now he sat at its side. Warmy hated looking at him. He was so ugly.
She wished he’d go back behind the box.
A few steps away, she stopped, went prone and sprung forward. Her front hooves landed directly on his back and he awoke with a squeak. She pinned him down and started laughing as he flailed beneath her.
“Hewwo poopie-babbeh!” she shouted.
He simply looked up at her in dread, and urinated. Warmy was already having fun.
“Wan pway, poopie babbeh? Wawmy wan haf fun wif yu!”
He looked around the enclosure for a moment, checking if Cupcake was there to hear. He couldn’t see her and chanced a few words, “Ugwyface n-nu can p-p-pway, sowwy,” he mumbled, trying to pull his hooves up to his face.
The voice in Warmy’s head spoke up again, Mummah maek sure dat poopie babbeh Ugwyface knu’ he bad an nebah du pwaytimes, but if mummah nu hewe…
“Mummah say yu can pway, Ugwyface,” Wawmy lied, snorting as she said his name. Did mummah really call him that!?
His expression softened for a moment, “m-mummah wet b-b-baddes’ poopie b-babbeh p-pway?”
Warmy stepped off of him and nodded. A small, unsure smile crept across his face. She thought he looked so stupid trying to smile, but held her tongue. Hurties come after.
He slowly rolled over and stood, “o-otay, w-wiww pway,” he said, “b-bu’ nu kno’ h-hao, sowwy,”
“Dat otay, Wawmy sho’ yu!”
She trotted off around the litterbox and came back a minute later, pulling a blanket with some small wooden blocks bundled on top.
She dragged it in front of Uglyface and held one of the blocks up, “dis am bwockies, Ugwyface. Maek stackies wif bwockies!” Warmy effortlessly stacked four of them into a little tower, and smiled proudly at him.
He marveled at her stacking ability, “yu g-gud at stackies, W-W-Wawmy!”
She didn’t like hearing him say her name.
Uglyface then tried to make his own tower, but found the blocks just too heavy to lift. He was a little too hungry for blockies, it seemed. He had been able to carefully eat a few bites of kibble here and there, but he tried to stay away from the feeding bowls- Cupcake didn’t like watching him eat. Plus, Wiggle had eaten some of his kibble too…
“Ug-ugwyface nu c-can du bwockies,” he said solemnly, “pweez sowwy, p-pweez nu angwy…”
Warmy couldn’t believe how weak Uglyface was- he couldn’t lift blockies? He really was a bad baby. She could feel the urge to just slap him well up but held back again- hurties come after.
“Nu wowwy, poopie babbeh! We du baww nao,'” She smiled and pointed over to a small pink ball a few feet away, “Wawmy wiww pushie baww tu yu an’ yu pushie back, otay?”
Uglyface nodded. As she said, Warmy scampered over to the ball and pushed it- just a little too hard- towards him. It hit him in his skinny gut and he was winded for a moment. It hurt, but he didn’t want to upset Warmy by crying.
He weakly pushed the ball back towards her, and to both their surprise it just made it back over to her.
“Yay!” he unconciously cheered, raising his hooves in the air.
Warmy thought he looked very stupid cheering like that and shoved the ball as hard as she could towards her block tower. It hit its target and the blocks fell down onto Uglyface’s cheering snout.
He crumbled down to the ground, holding his hooves over his face. As Warmy approached she could hear his quiet little "huu huu"s. A small wave of delight washed over her; the first hurties of the day.
She relished his sobs for a few seconds, and started thinking of new ideas for Uglyface’s “playtime”. She scanned the enclosure, and her eyes were caught by the climbing frame and exploring tunnel.
Makie poopie Ugwyface gu in tunnews an’ put bwankie ovah tu make it dawkie. Dummeh Ugwyface git scawdies an’ makie bad peepees- den can gif sowwy hoofsies, the voice in Warmy’s head chanted.
“Otay Ugwyface, yu nu du baww tuu gud,” Warmy said with faux kindness, “u wan du espworin’ tunnew? It am gud fun!”
Uglyface removed his hooves from his face and looked up at her, “sporin’ t-t-tunnew?”
“Yuss, pwayin’ in tunnew weawwy fun! Fowwow Wawmy!”
Uglyface stood and started to follow Warmy as she ran over to the plastic tube on the other side of the enclosure. She stopped in front of them, and watched him slowly limp towards her.
“Why Ugwyface du stwange wawkie?” she asked, genuinely intrigued.
“H-haf bad w-weggie, sowwy,”
A bad baby, with a bad weggie? Even more ways to “play” burst into Warmy’s mind- but first, the tunnel.
“Otay, Ugwyface- dis am espworin’ tunnew. Yu gu in an du espworin an’ git huggies if yu find da end pwace!” Cupcake always gave hugs to babies who got through the tunnel, but she wasn’t here; all that awaited Uglyface was darkness.
He started crawling into the first tunnel straight away, happy to be playing and doing something other than sitting in his dirty paper bed.
Once he was fully inside and had passed the first bend, Warmy quietly pushed some pillows from Cupcake’s bedding infront of the entrance, “keep goin Ugwyface, endie pwace comin weawwy soon!” She was barely able to contain her laughs as she started pulling the blanket over too.
Uglyface, for his part, was actually having fun exploring. The tunnels, despite only being a few meters of plastic tubing, were so new to him! There were all sort of little nooks and crannies to feel around in: he even started laughing from the fun- that is, until everything suddenly went dark.
“Why d-dawkies!?” he exclaimed, “N-nu wike! Pweez sowwy!”
The plastic walls that had moments ago been so inviting now seemed to be closing in around him. The very air had turned cool. He tried to stand and turn around, but the tunnel was too small- all he could do was shout and squirm!
“Hewp! HEWP! NU WIKE NU WIKE!” the tears began to form and drip onto his face and chest fluff, “HUU HUU, NU WIKE DAWKIES! HUU, PWEEZ DAWK, NU HUWTIE! PWEEZ SOWWY! PWEEZ SOWWY! HUU HUU!” he panicked and felt his heart start to race, his breath go short, “HUUUUUU PWEEEEEZ HEWP! DAWK BAD FO’ BABBEH!!! HUUUUUU!”
Warmy, meanwhile, was having the time of her short life. Uglyface’s squirming was wiggling the whole tube around, and his muffled crying was delicious. The voice in Warmy’s mind cackled, leaving her thoughts blank, and she sat giggling in tandem with it- dummeh Ugwyface! Onwy bwankie on tunnew! Nu can huwt!
She got up and kicked the tunnel as hard as she could, and Uglyface’s screeches became even more panicked, “EEEEEEEE NU NUM BABBEH TUNNEW, PWEEEEZ EEEEEEE BABBEH SOWWY, PWEEZ SOWWY PWEEEEZ NUUUUUUUU EEEEEEEEEEEE,” and then he urinated. It filled the portion of the tube he was in and soaked his belly.
Another kick from Warmy sent him into a frenzy such that he started to peep and chirp desperately.
Warmy couldn’t believe it- Uglyface was actually chirping like a new baby for milkies. She laughed hard, kicking the tunnel a few more times, joyously taking in his anguish. Finally, she pulled the blanket and pillows back, observing him as scrambled backwards to the entrance and flew out onto the floor in a pile, shaking.
He was covered in urine, “yu du bad peepees, Ugwyface. Dat mean yu am bad babbeh an’ nee’ sowwy hoofsies!” Warmy chimed.
His eyes widened, but before he had time to react, Warmy, with a wide grin, was already upon him, stomping on his side and slapping his face. He ‘cheeped’ with every hit.
Warmy had never been able give sorry hoofsies properly before. It felt good. Each strike sent a wave of pleasure through her- but, she knew not to hurt Uglyface too badly.
Not now, anyway. She wasn’t done ‘playing’ yet. The voice was not satisfied.
She finished with a hardy kick to his chest, “yu sowwy hoofsies fo’ bad peepees nao done, Ugwyface,” she smiled down at him.
“S-s-sowwy fo’ bad p-peepees, nu m-m-mean,” he stammered.
Warmy rolled her eyes, “Otay, yu nu gud fo’ espworin’ Ugwyface, wan’ twy sumfin ewse?”
Uglyface sat up. He was still shaken from the tunnel, but still wanted to try to play more, unaware that his torment was not a part of playtime. As he rose, however, his hunger hit him- he’d used up most of his limited energy inside the tunnel, “g-gif Ugwyface n-n-nummies befo’ mo’ p-pway?” he said, patting his tummy.
Warmy already had an idea for this- she knew that he was probably hungry, based on his size and his… outburst with the kibble a day or so ago- and the kibble bowls hadn’t been refilled since morning. Mummah was making less milkies now, too.
“Otay, Ugwyface, fowwow fo’ nummies!” she trotted back over to the litterbox, and once again waited for him to limp over.