Warranty Void if Seal is Broken (Part Two)
PeppermintParchment
“Huu huu! Scawy!” The mystery foal chirped. The purple foal paced his can excitedly, occasionally losing his footing as his new Daddeh trundled along the street.
“Nu am scawy! Babbehs hab nyu Daddeh!” The purple foal reassured. The mystery foal banged its hooves loudly against the black glass of its tube.
“Nyu fwiend? Nyu Daddeh?”
“Yus! Bestest Daddeh!”
“Yay!” A dull flash of yellow exploded inside of the can. The purple foal shook his head in confusion and decided that he had simply imagined it.
“Nyu fwiend awe fiwwy o’ cowt?” The mystery foal squeaked.
“Babbeh am cowt!” The purple foal asserted, trotting in tight, tiny circles inside his can. Another beam of light flashed inside of the black can. The purple foal flattened his ears against his skull. He wasn’t convinced that the babbeh inside the can was a fluffy at all.
“An’ nyu fw-fwiend am…am…?” he mumbled.
“Am fiwwy!” The mystery foal exclaimed. The purple foal bit his lip and said nothing.
After a particularly brutal jostling of the tubes accompanied by labored breathing, the two fluffies were thrust into the harsh white light of daylight bulbs. The purple foal peeped in fear but managed to rein in his scaredy poopies. The mystery foal didn’t react beyond a whine of “bad upsies!” as the pair were exhumed from the fanny pack.
The man, still gasping from his ascent up his apartment stairs, plopped the two tubes on a granite counter. The purple foal trotted the length of his can excitedly as the mystery foal pounded her hooves against the dark glass of her tube.
“Pwease Daddeh, pwease wet babbehs out! Nu wan’ be in meanie-cans nu mowe!” The purple foal begged. The man ignored the foals, removing a plaid handkerchief from the pocket on his button-up and wiping at the beads of sweat on his forehead. He waddled away and fell onto a nearby couch. He clicked away on his cellphone, mumbling to himself.
“Alcohol and water? Really?”
“Babbehs nu am awcohow an’ wawa! Am babbehs!”
“Huu huu! Wan’ pway!”
“Shh, fluffies. Daddeh’s checking something.” The fluffies whimpered but said nothing. The purple foal gnawed at the tip of the dried nipple out of boredom, eyeing the black tube distrustfully.
“Alright babbehs, I’ll be right back.” The man dropped his cellphone and exited. He reentered, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a rag, and a glass of water in tow.
“I’ll need you to be very still, okay? If you wiggle, I may drop you and hurt you.” The man grasped the black can in his hand, dipped the rag in rubbing alcohol, and scrubbed at the black coating of the mystery foal’s tube. He poured water over the spot and wiped it away, leaving a small hole in the dark paint. The glass tube flashed beneath.
“Okay. Stay still.” The man continued his work on the can until he had removed roughly two inches of paint. A purple eye appeared in the gap, lined with sweeping black eyelashes.
“Daddeh! Babbeh wub Daddeh su much! Pwease wet out!” The mystery foal whined. The purple foal shook his head in confusion. Her purple eyes were exactly like those that stared back at him when he gazed into the glass of his can.
“Oh my God. Oh my God.” The man pulled the blackened tube from the counter and carried it and the cleaning supplies to his couch. The purple foal craned his head in an attempt to better see, but the wide hunch of the man’s shoulders made it impossible. The man poured a heavy helping of rubbing alcohol over the tube and cleaned vigorously.
“Oh my God. Oh my God!” He repeated, wiping away the residual paint smears and holding the newly cleaned tube to the light.
The mystery foal was glaringly white. She tucked her quadricolored tail between her legs and cried, burying her face in her golden hooves. A thin, spiraled horn split the green and blue of her mane as additional purple locks waved across her quaking shoulders. She flared out a pair of oversized white wings and attempted to block out the harsh fluorescent lights that beamed overhead.
“Oh my God. A Celestia Alicorn. Finally, finally!” The man pulled the tube close to his brown eyes and examined the foal, “A filly! I’ll make a fortune!”
“Huu huu! Pwease make meanie-wight gu away! Nu wike!” The alicorn sobbed, pawing at her eyes.
“Anything for you, Princess. Yes, anything.” The man shuffled back into the kitchen and gently placed the filly’s can next to that of the purple foal’s. The purple foal examined the sobbing babbeh, seeing more and more of himself in her appearance with each second. He noted her mane and tail, both of which matched his in color and viscosity. He didn’t have wings or a horn like the mystery foal, but he did share her pale purple eyes and smooth, upturned muzzle. His heart pounded.
“Sissie?” He whispered. The filly, unable to hear the purple foal over her sobbing, ignored him, but the man scooped up the tube excitedly.
“Sissie? She’s your sister?! Oh God, I see it now! The mane, the eyes, the build! I can’t believe my luck!” The man pried the rubber cap off the covering of the purple foal’s can and gagged heavily as the smell of putrid air and runny feces exploded from the tube. The foal inhaled deeply as his first taste of fresh air graced his nostrils. The man hurriedly but gently shook the purple babbeh from his tube and deposited him on the counter. He gaped in awe. Never had he had so much room to play before!
“Sissie!” He exclaimed, loving the solid impact of the granite beneath his hooves as he trotted over to the unopened tube. He reared up on the tube and attempted to give it huggies. The filly was shaken from her sobbing.
“Sissie? Fwuffy am Fwuffy’s Bwuddah?! Biggest heawt happies!” The alicorn tapped her hooves against the glass and scrabbled to hug the purple foal. The tip of her long horn glowed a sudden, vivid yellow.
“She has bioluminescence?!” The man grasped his chest as if he were having a heart attack. The foals ignored him as they attempted to give sorry-hooves to the glass that wouldn’t allow them to hug.
“Pwease wet out!” The white filly whined. The man lifted the tube with shaky hands and ran a beefy finger over the wax ring. He frowned.
“Warranty void if seal is broken…” He read. The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepened.
“Watch your sister. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Otay daddeh!” The purple foal puffed up his chest with pride, but the man had already vanished.
“Bwuddah am su nicie. Sissie wan’ gif huggies!” The filly chirped, running her golden hooves over the smooth arch of the glass wall. The purple earthie smiled and rubbed his forehead against the glass.
“Nu wowwy! Daddeh wiww take Sissie out of meanie-can, an’ Sissie can hab huggies!”
“Yay!” Her horn flashed bright yellow again, and the purple foal had to rub away the orbs of light that hovered in his vision. His sister was undoubtedly strange, and something within his bio-programming told him that she shouldn’t have both wings and a horn, but the purple foal loved her unwaveringly. She was his sister, after all. His little sister, he decided, although the fuller mane atop her head begged to differ.
The foals waited patiently for their balding Daddeh to return. The purple foal yearned to explore his new surroundings, but he remained firmly planted by his sister’s side. A few forevers passed.
“Okay fluffies, I have good news and I have bad news. Which would you like first?” The man reentered the room, causing both babbehs to jump in fear. The alicorn’s can began rolling and, after a small chase, the purple foal stopped it. The man smiled approvingly and stroked the purple foal’s rainbow mane.
“Good boy, protecting Princess Celestia that way! Such a brave little knight.”
Babbeh am Bwave Wittwe Knight?! Fankyoo Daddeh, Bwave Wittwe Knight wub nyu name!” The purple foal cheered and attempted to hug his sister through the glass. The filly beamed.
“Bwuddah hab name! Fwuffy wan’ name tu!” Her horn puttered yellow.
“You already have a name. Princess Celestia.”
“Pwincess Cewestia wub nyu name!” The filly’s horn glared a blinding white.
“Those names are quiet a mouthful, though. I’ll just call you “Princess” and you “Knight”, but we’ll all know what I mean, right?”
“Yus Daddeh!” The foals chimed. The man cracked his fingers and pulled out his cellphone.
“Okay then, we’ll do the good news first. Princess Celestia, a fluffy of your caliber, including the correct eye coloration and species is worth $900. However, your bioluminescence and gender knocks the price up to $1,100. As a breeding mare, you’re worth almost double that.”
“Su fwuffy am gud fwuffy?” Princess asked. The man nodded.
“You’re the best fluffy on the market. And I…I got you for five dollars.”
“Wha’ about Knight? Knight am gud fwuffy too?!” The purple foal pawed at the loose shirttail of his new Daddeh. The man caressed the unshaven stubble of his chin.
“You’re a good fluffy for taking care of your sister. Which brings us to the bad news.” The man inhaled deeply.
“Princess, you can never leave your tube.”
“Wha’?” Knight asked as the alicorn filly burst into sobs, “Bu Sissie nu am fo’ meanie-can! Sissie hab tu wun an’ pway an’ gib huggies!” Knight reared up over his sister’s can protectively.
“Yes, but Princess is special. If I take her out of her can, she loses $100 of her value! If she stays in her can, she retains the highest amount of resale value! As long as she remains in the can, buyers will know that she is unsoiled and in mint condition.” The man patted Knight consolingly. The earthie foal puffed up his cheeks in anger.
“Sissie nu am fo’ can! Can am meanie, dummeh, babbeh kiwwew!” Knight stomped angrily and glared at his Daddeh. The man brushed him away.
“Listen Knight, Princess only has to stay in the can until she is adopted. See? When her new Mummah or Daddeh comes to pick her up, they’ll open the can so they can examine her and take her home. If you’re a good fluffy, I’ll even let you go with her! Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Knight’s purple eyes flashed between his sister and his Daddeh. Confusion muddled his brain.
“Su…su Sissie nu hab tu stay in meanie-can fowevah. Onwy untiw nyu Mummah o’ Daddeh come tu sabe Sissie?” The colt tapped his hooves nervously. The alicorn peeked over her hooves at him.
“Nu wan’ meanie-can, Bwuddah. Wan’ pway.” She whimpered. Both males ignored her.
“Yes, and if you take care of her, I’ll make sure you get to go with her. Do we have a deal?” The man held out his hand. The purple foal, unsure of what the man was asking or what he intended, bumped his head against his fat palm.
“Excellent! Now how about some spaghetti?” The foals cheered and the man whipped out his phone. He recorded the foals celebrating, focusing tightly on the vivid white and yellow sparks that shot from Princess’s horn.
The spaghetti never came. Daddeh told Knight that it would be unfair for him to allow Knight to have spaghetti when his sister clearly couldn’t have any. Knight felt betrayed, but sucked up his disappointment as he tended to his sister. Instead, Daddeh placed Knight and the still-trapped filly on the greasy rug of his living room floor.
“Go on, Knight, play with your sister. You wanted to play.” The man had settled himself on the couch and had his cellphone pointed straight at the pair.
“Nu can pway. Sissie am stiww in meanie-can.” The man sighed, leaned forward, and tapped the tube with his foot. It rolled forward, sending the alicorn inside into hysterics.
“Look, you can play. Just roll her, like a ball! Be careful though.” Knight was already rearing up on the tube and pushing forward. Princess Celestia screeched happily and began running in her tube. It was a strange game, but she loved it!
“Fastew, fastew!” She begged, attempting to keep pace with her brother’s rolling as her golden hooves slid against the glass. The purple foal obliged, knocking his shoulder beneath her can and pushing with all his power.
“Wub! Biggest heawt happies!” A flash of white exploded from Princess’s horn and bathed her pale form in temporary invisibility. Knight reared away as their Daddeh cheered, his cellphone quivering in his meaty hands.
“Atta girl, Princess! Daddeh will be right back, you two play nice!” The man jogged out of the room, his brown bathrobe sweeping the floor.
He threw himself into a swivel chair that hunched and groaned beneath his massive weight. He stroked his stubble nervously as he uploaded the videos displaying the rare alicorn to his computer.
“Selling: One alicorn. Princess Celestia coloration. Eyes: Purple. Mane and tail: Blue, green, and purple. Coat: White. Hooves: Golden. Female. Approximately three weeks old. Purchased from a Foal-in-a-Can machine, so papers and parentage are unknown. Mint condition, still in original can packaging. Gentle temperament. Perfect as a pet or a breeding mare!”
“Caveat: Foal must be adopted with brother. Earthie. Eyes: Purple. Mane and Tail: Blue, green, and purple. Coat: Purple. Hooves: Brown. Male. Approximately three weeks old. Purchased from a Foal-in-a-Can machine, so papers and parentage are unknown. Foal has been freed from his can and acts as a caretaker for his sister. Intelligent. Foal MUST be taken with the purchase of Princess Celestia foal.”
“Asking $1,200. Firm.”
“Questions, additional pictures, and buying information can be acquired by emailing JoeHammond@G-link.com. Serious inquiries only.”
He re-read his ad and dubbed it worthy. Joe attached the footage of Princess Celestia’s bioluminescence and the foals at play beneath the word file, and uploaded it to multiple forums and hugbox communities. He leaned back in his abused chair and fantasized about what he would do with his sudden influx of money.
“Daddeh? Sissie am hungwy.” Joe was awakened by a small purple fluffy tugging on the sleeve of his bathrobe. The man adjusted himself on his couch. His right arm was numb. He wondered how he possibly fell asleep when he was so excited.
“Hungry? Well, tell her to drink her milk. She’s not old enough for solid food.”
“Sissie am out of miwkies. Pwincess dwink dem aww, meanie-can nu hab nu mowe!” The foal rolled the can towards his Daddeh. Princess Celestia trotted slowly inside.
“Pwincess am su hungwy daddeh! Nu hab nummies fo’ su wong!” The filly batted her large eyelashes at Joe. He sighed.
“Princess, I can’t give you any food right now. If I give you food, I have to open your can. If I open your can, then the nice man that’s coming to adopt you today may not want you. Would you like that?”
“Nu! Pwincess wan’ nyu Daddeh, su nu hab tu wive in meanie-can! Huu huu, Pwincess nu eben hungwy, jist su bowed! Pwease nu open meanie-can!” The filly sobbed. Knight flattened his ears against his head and attempted to hug his sibling through the tube.
“It’s okay Princess. You won’t have to be in that can much longer. As soon as your new Daddeh gets here, you’re free. Okay? Can you be a strong girl for Knight and Daddeh?”
The alicorn wiped away her tears and glanced at her brother. He smiled reassuringly.
“Yus. Fo’…fo’ Daddeh an’ Bwuddah…”
“Good girl. Don’t worry, your new Daddeh will be here soon.”
Joe readjusted himself on his couch and buried his hand in a bag of cheese curls. He reread the email he had received earlier that day. The man had promised that he’d meet Joe and the foals that evening, cash in hand and saferoom awaiting at home. He didn’t even try to quarrel with Joe about the price of the foals, which the middle-aged man appreciated. Princess Celestia was a very valuable fluffy indeed.
Joe turned on FluffTV and tried to tune out the musical screeching of the foals as they sang along to the “Babbehs” song, and grimaced as they failed to count with the mare on television. Joe was an undisputable hugboxer, but after being subjugated to the wailings of babbehs as they tried to communicate with the stallion stacking blocks on the screen, he could certainly see why abusers preferred a dead fluffy over a live one.
6:00 came and went. 7:00 rolled by with massive gray cloud that blocked out the sun. 8:00 was ushered in with a boom of thunder and relentless rainfall against his apartment window. 9:00 found the foals curled up and snoring, with Knight slumped protectively over Princess’s can. At 10:00 Joe Hammond sent an angry email. At 11:00, he retired to bed.
“Daddeh? Pwease, Sissie am weawy hungwy dis time…” Joe was in the midst of pouring himself a bowl of cereal. Princess Celestia stared up from her can, her wide eyes locked on the jug of milk. She licked her chapped lips.
“Oh, I’m sorry Princess. I forgot.” The man was lying, but the foals nodded. They forgot things a lot, so why shouldn’t Daddehs, too?
“Let me look up something on the computer. I’ll feed you in a few minutes, okay?” The foals agreed, and Knight mounted the can and gently rolled his sister forward. She laughed, a small fountain of sparks bursting from her horn.
“Wet’s wun!”
“Otay!”
Joe plopped in his squealing chair and quickly searched “How to feed a foal-in-a-can”. He was led to multiple websites about restorative diets and snacks, but nothing that told him how to bypass a violation of the warranty. He had no choice. He inhaled deeply, and added the term “abusers” to his search.
An explosion of results possessed his screen. He clicked the first link and was led to a .gif of an orange pegasus trapped in his glass can. A high-heeled shoe quickly appeared and bore down on the foal. Glass shattered and the camera tightly zoomed in on the foal that writhed beneath the relentless foot and the glass buried in his flesh. Joe, nauseated, hurriedly scrolled down.
Hundreds of comments filled the forum below, and Joe read them all. Tales of evisceration and starvation abounded, but one particular comment held the answer to his dilemma.
“FlattenedFluff: @WowstestStompies: I’ve bought at least 20. I fucking love foals-in-a-can too. Those shitrats are so desperate for freedom and huggies, they’ll believe anything you tell them. I’ve found that if you fill a syringe with milk and press it into the milk-sac at the back of the can, you can keep them alive a lot longer. The needle doesn’t leave a hole big enough for the foal to see out of, it’s virtually invisible as long as you’re careful. Shit’s hilarious, the foals start drinking out of boredom and they swell up like a fucking-”
Joe slammed his finger against the “esc” key, unable and unwilling to read more. He had gotten the information he had come for. He didn’t need to see anything else.
“Okay fluffies. Daddeh found a way to feed Princess. It’s going to be a little strange, but it’s the only way.” Joe discovered the foals caught up in a game of “tag”, where Knight would trot around his sister and she would attempt to roll her can towards him. She rarely tagged him and when she did, it was entirely by design of Knight. He allowed the foals to tire themselves out. They’d be much more cooperative.
When the babbehs were reduced to two sweaty, panting balls of fluff, Joe gently scooped them up and placed them on the counter. He readied the plunger in the syringe of milk and inserted it slowly into the dried milk sac. The sac quickly inflated with fresh, cold milk. Princess Celestia stepped around her growing piles of feces and hurriedly suckled on the nipple. Knight watched approvingly, his rainbow tail wagging.
“Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it? And look, no hole!” Knight nodded, though he didn’t comprehend his Daddeh’s excitement. He loved milkies too, but not as much as Daddeh, it seemed!
“$1,200. Firm.” Joe sighed and sent another email. It had been four days since he posted his ad, and besides the initial response of the man that never showed up, the only inquiries he had received about the foals were about lowering their price. Joe was determined to get the most amount possible for the foals. They were show-quality at the very least, and of excellent breeding stock at the very most. $1,200 was a steal.
Brave Little Knight and Princess Celestia were settling into their lives with their new Daddeh, and Knight was even learning how to use the litterbox. Princess yearned to leave her tube, even if it was just to make poopies in the litterbox. Her tube was beginning to grow brown across the bottom, and her once-golden hooves were caked in dried clumps of feces. Princess hated her bad poopies, and she was embarrassed each time Knight looked too long at her can. She didn’t even dare imagine what her Daddeh thought about all the bad poopies! She never begged to be released from her glass prison, however. Although it smelled and was filled with rapidly growing piles of excrement, she knew leaving her can would give her Daddeh biggest heart hurties and keep her and her brother from finding a new home. So she turned up her dainty muzzle and powered on, each hour adding an infinitesimal but congealing ounce of depression to her small shoulders.
Although Princess didn’t know it, Knight was struggling with his own demons. He had noticed the slick sheen of runny poopies that filled the bottom of Princess’s tube and slopped on the sides when he pushed her, and he feared that soon he could no longer move her without coating her white fur in feces. He also noticed the hard, low swing of Princess’s belly. She now spent a large majority of her time gorging herself on the endless milkies from the rubber nipple. Knight attempted to distract her with games and FluffTV, but with each lull in activities Princess would return to the nipple and gorge herself on the cool milk. Knight ate only a third of what his sister did, but he dared not to mention her habits. Fluffies were supposed to be chubby, right? Chubby fluffies gave the biggest, warmest huggies, and Knight knew Princess was so full of love and therefore needed as much space to cuddle as possible.
A week passed in a barrage of rejected emails, gluttony, repetitive games, secret tears, frustration, and a trickle of feces that slowly turned into a stream. The rain poured down mercilessly, as if attempting to cleanse the tiny apartment of its greedy sins.
When Knight awoke, it was with shock. The cool glass he was used to being pressed against was missing, and his little sister as nowhere to be found! The purple earthie leapt to his hooves, his rainbow mane flying.
“Pwincess! Sissie! Whewe am Pwincess?!” The panicked foal galloped around the house, not caring if he awoke his Daddeh or his irritable neighbors.
“Huu Huu! Sissie am hewe…” Knight had to strain to hear the alicorn over the relentless rain, but he eventually located her.
“Sissie! Why am Pwincess in wawa dish? Am siwwy!” The foal laughed in relief. He discovered the tube half submerged in the water dish, an aggravated babbeh glaring at him from her station. Water lapped at the glass barrier of her can.
“Nu am siwwy, dummeh Bwuddah!”
“Why Sissie in wawa? Wawa am bad fo’ fwuffies!” Knight chuckled and planted his hooves on either side of the tube. He attempted to push, but Princess bucked the glass angrily.
“Nu! Weave Pwincess in wawa!”
“Bu’ wawa am bad fo’ fwuffies!”
“Pwincess knu dat!”
“Den’ why in wa-“
“’CAUSE PWINCESS WAN’ DIE!” The white filly attempted to stomp her hooves against the bottom of her can, but the pool of clotted feces stopped her. Knight flattened his ears as Princess’s clear purple eyes flooded with tears.
“Pwincess wan’ die su bad…” She whispered. Knight lowered his head and pushed against the can. It toppled sideways out of the bowl and clanked against the carpet, coating Princess Celestia in a torrent of excrement. The alicorn pulled herself from the poopies that swayed around her knees in a slow, fetid pool.
“Sowwy…” Knight whispered back. Princess sniffed loudly and wiped at her eyes with a hoof clogged with feces.
“Pwincess Cewestia nu am pwetty nu mowe. Nao Nyu Daddeh o’ Mummah wiww nebah wan’…” Tears cascaded from her eyes and washed away the flecks of excrement on her cheeks.
“Pwincess Cewestia am da pwettiest fwuffy dat Knight ebah saw. Knight hab biggest heawt happies when Knight weawn dat Pwincess am Sissie. Knight nu wan’ Pwincess tu hab fowevah sweepies.” Knight choked on his sobs and embraced the tube. Princess did the same, pressing her face as close to that of her brother’s as possible.
“Pwincess wan’ fowevah sweepies. Bu’ wan’ Knight tu hab nyu famiwy mowe. Su Pwincess wiww nu take fowevah sweepies. Wiww stay fo’ Bwuddah. Wiww stay fo’ Knight.” The filly clopped her hoof against the glass and Knight, heartbroken and weeping, wanted nothing more than to bump his head against it.
“Is this some kind of joke? No way in Hell am I paying $1,200 for a filthy alicorn swimming in her own shit. You’re sick! All I wanted was to buy my daughter a Celestia and THIS is what you offer me? No deal, fucking psycho.” Joe sighed. Yet another buyer lost. He closed his email and deleted the newest pictures of Princess and Knight from his computer. It wasn’t his fault if people couldn’t see the quality product beneath all of the mess, and he certainly wasn’t dropping his already low price just so an abuser could scoop the babbehs up and torture them. He would wait. The right buyer would come along, eventually.
“Hewwo? D-Daddeh? Pwincess Cewestia nu am feewing pwetty….” Knight peeked around the corner. He was beginning to enter puberty, although his growth would certainly be stunted from spending a large majority of his foalhood trapped in a can. His legs were beginning to lengthen and his body was gaining mass. He was shaping up to be a marvelous breeding stallion.
“Okay Knight. Let’s have a look.”
Each time Joe Hammond laid eyes upon Princess Celestia, he couldn’t help but to feel some semblance of guilt, though it was often drowned out by disgust. Princess was waiting patiently in the crowded confines of her can. A flood of feces surrounded her, clinging to her chest and upper flanks. Her once quadricolored tail was a matted, brown tangle and permanently submerged in the excrement. Although Joe hadn’t noticed it, her horn hadn’t glowed or flashed in weeks.
“Princess, darling, look at Daddeh.”
The filly slowly lifted her head and cocked her ears. She was searching for the sound of Joe’s voice, and upon her turning to face him, Joe understood why. Princess’s eyes, once light purple and sparkly, gazed redly out of two slits. Thick pouches of infection clouded her eyelids and weighed them down, completely eliminating her vision. The veins of her eye throbbed and bulged obscenely, and a thick cake of eye crust festered in the corners.
“Oh my God.” Joe mumbled. He leapt to his feet, leaving a concerned Knight sobbing at his sister’s swollen face. He raced to his computer and quickly typed in Princess’s symptoms. Yet again, he ended up on a site populated by abusers.
“FuzzyWuzzy: @GreatBallsofFluff: Oh yeah, I’ve seen it a million times. Especially with poopie babbehs and other undesirable foals. They get blasted in the face with bad poopies and suddenly they have an infection. What you need to do is get a needle and burst the infected sacs. It’s best if you knock the fluffy out first, because it might squirm, but I’m not telling you how to live your life. Anyways, pop the bumps, squeeze them to make sure you get the gross sac thing in the middle, and then smear some antibacterial cream on there. That should do it, but if not, you probably need to see a vet. Fluffies are famously “this shit is so fragile which is broken by all”.”
Silently thanking FuzzyWuzzy for his advice, Joe prepared a needle and retrieved Princess’s can. He placed her on the counter.
“Upsies Daddeh, pwease! Nu wan’ weave Sissie aww awone!” Knight tugged at the hem of Joe’s pants but he ignored him. Knight didn’t need to see this.
“Okay Princess, I need you to be a brave girl. Can you do that? Can you be Daddeh’s brave little girl?” Princess swiveled her head but said nothing. Joe took it as consent and gently inserted the needle through the end of the can opposite of the milk sac. Slowly the tip of the needle approached Princess’s swollen eye and Princess, unable to see it, felt only shock when it entered the infected bump above her eye.
Clumped chunks of pus plopped into the rancid stew of feces below. A river of thin infection quickly followed, cascading over her white cheeks and clinging to her chest fluff. Blood mixed with the final spurts of pus in a gory exodus, joining their brethren in the sewage below. Slowly, Princess opened a bloodshot eye.
“Fankyoo…” She mumbled. The area about her crystal eyes throbbed, but it felt much better than the hot, itchy heat of the infection.
“Be still. I’ll get the other one.” Princess braced herself, but as the needle crept towards her eyes she pulled away. The white orb was impaled on the vicious point of the needle.
“SCREEEE! WOWSTEST HUWTIES!”
“SISSIE!”
“Oh my God, oh my God.”
“Wan’ die, WAN’ DIE!”
“GIB UPSIES DADDEH! GIB UPSIES NAO O’ GET WOWSTEST HUWTIES!”
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”
“SOWWY POOPIES FO’ WOWSTEST DADDEH!” Joe’s leg was encased by a hot spray of feces. Knight doubled his attack with a barrage of sorry-hooves on Joe’s exposed ankles. A thin cut slashed across the jutting bone of his ankle and a runny stream of excrement leaked across it. Fearing infection, Joe quickly fled the room, yanking the needle from Princess’s eye. Uncaring of the fluffies, Joe jumped in his shower, leaving the screaming alicorn and her earthie brother to suffer her shrieks.
In less than two days, it proved that Princess was now blind in her left eye. The depressed foal spent most of her day attached to the nipple, which Joe filled hourly out of guilt. She no longer wished to play or even watch FluffTV, she merely laid down in her pool of poopies—which encircled her shoulders when standing, and her neck when resting—and suckled. Knight spent the majority of his day curled up beside her, whispering tales of how great their lives would be when their new Mummah or Daddeh finally arrived. Occasionally Princess Celestia’s horn would shine and emit a few sparks when Knight attempted to hug her or told her he loved her, but they were always feeble things that burned out within seconds. Brave Little Knight took this as a good sign the cold, distant shell that he spent his life protecting still contained the soft, sweet soul of his beautiful sister.
Knight was no longer the anemic purple foal pulled from a Foal-in-a-Can machine. He had grown wide and sturdy, with powerful legs and a warm disposition. His fur was thick and his rainbow tail nearly dragged the floor. He was the image of a first-class breeding stallion, with the heart of a lifelong companion.
Puberty had not been as kind to Princess Celestia. She was easily double the size of her brother, but it was impossible to tell. Her rolls of fat pressed tightly against the glass walls of her tubes, and her mouth was permanently wrapped around the rubber nipple that now waded in feces. Her anus and vagina were smashed against the end of the tube and constantly pained her, especially when she made peepees or poopies. Her legs were tucked underneath her body and were completely immobile, except for the front left, which she used to scratch her constantly itching, blind eye. Her tongue had long ceased tasting milkies and now she suckled automatically, hoping to one day fill the void of depression that gnawed at her being.
Knight could barely stand to look at her. Joe never looked at her. He hadn’t received an email from a customer in weeks. He decided that the time had finally come to readjust his prices.
“Selling: One alicorn. Princess Celestia coloration. Eyes: Purple. Mane and tail: Blue, green, and purple. Coat: White. Hooves: Golden. Female. Approximately two months old. Rescued from an abuser. Mint condition, still in original can packaging. No temperament. Perfect as milkbag or breeding mare!”
“Caveat: Mare must be adopted with brother. Earthie. Eyes: Purple. Mane and Tail: Blue, green, and purple. Coat: Purple. Hooves: Brown. Male. Approximately two months old. Rescued from an abuser. Freed from his can as a foal and acts as a caretaker for his sister. Intelligent. Compromising. Well Adjusted. Stallion MUST be taken with the purchase of Princess Celestia mare”
“Asking $600 or best offer.”
He waited. The emails never came.
“Bwuddah?” Knight stirred from his sleep. It was the first time he had heard his sister’s voice in weeks. He quickly approached.
“Yus Pwincess Cewestia?”
“Can Bwave Wittwe Knight pwease gib Pwincess Cewestia fowevah sweepies?” Knight’s expression softened. He knew the question would eventually come, and he was prepared.
“Yus Sissie. Knight wiww gib fowevah sweepies.” The stallion laid beside the can and gazed into Celestia’s purple eye. Tears were gathered there and she blinked heavily.
“Fankyoo…” She struggled to speak around the nipple lodged in her mouth. Knight cuddled close to the swollen shape of his sister’s face and the yellow light of her horn flashed. Tears filled Knight’s eyes as he circled around to his sister’s blind side.
“Pwincess Cewestia wub Bwuddah. Am su sowwy dat nebah get Nyu Daddeh o’ Mummah fo’ Knight….” Knight reared up on the tube, careful not to shake his sister. He didn’t want her to know when it happened.
“Pwincess Cewestia am da bestest Sissie in da whowe wowwd. Sissie awways gib da bestest huggies, an’ num the mostest sketties. Awways wun da fastest, an’ hab bestest speshaw fwiend wif wots an’ wots of babbehs. Sissie am pwetty, an’ bwave, an’ da bestest fing dat ebah happen tu Knight. Can Pwincess Cewestia see it in thinkie pwace?”
Princess Celestia’s horn glowed blinding white, yellow sparks exploding from the tip in a frenzy, “Yus. It am beautifuw. Pwincess Cewestia an’ Knight am pwaying wike fwuffies on FwuffTV. Am gibing huggies and stacking bwockies. An’ Pwincess Cewestia am saying “Sissie wub Bwuddah su mu-“
Knight reared down suddenly, cracking the glass beneath his hooves and continuing through Princess’s deformed skull. The weak bone caved easily beneath his weight and she crumpled beneath him. The tip of her horn burst in an outpowering of pure, white light, a shower of warm sparks erupting over Knight’s quaking form. The flesh of her body slumped away with the glass of the can that parted beneath the cracks in crooked fingers. Princess’s corpse rolled onto the carpet on a tide of rushing feces, as, finally, she was freed from her Hell.
Knight didn’t mind the smell. Knight didn’t mind the sloughs of skin that were missing from his sister’s corpse. He didn’t mind the pool of two-month-old feces or the way the glass stung his flesh. All he cared about was the fur of his sister, which was untouched and soft despite the clumps of ancient excrement. He focused only on the weight of her in his arms as he hugged her close to him, and the warmth that was slowly draining from her body. He buried his face in her chest and sobbed, sharing the first and last hug his sister ever experienced with the cold, cruel arms of Death.
“Selling: One Earthie. Eyes: Purple. Mane and Tail: Blue, green, and purple. Coat: Purple. Hooves: Brown. Male. Approximately two months old. Rescued from an abuser. Freed from his can as a foal and still suffers the trauma. Intelligent. Compassionate. Ill Adjusted. Perfect as a breeding stallion or a pet.”
“Free.”
