Vince’s legs hurt.
He’d tried pounding at the door for his mother to let him back in, but she just ignored him, and eventually Vince figured she must have gone to sleep. But he kept trying anyway, the outside world seemed suddenly more terrifying through the wobbly, bug-eyed vision of a fluffy pony.
But eventually he had to give up. His mother wasn’t answering the door, and more to the point… he was hungry. Plus, he could always just come back again once he’d found some food, so Vince turned and went looking for something to eat, struggling all the while to think of where he would find it.
When he had been human, he just got food from the store, or from the fridge… but fluffy ponies didn’t have money, or fridges. So where the hell would he find some?
Vince waddled down the street, deep in thought, until he paused.
He wasn’t sure where he was anymore.
But that was impossible! He’d lived on these streets his entire life! He knew them inside and out!
But… but his brain felt so foggy now… all the streets looked the same, just a lot of bricks and some doors. But at least he remembered his house number! It was… uh…
Fuck.
He stood where he was and focused, furrowing his brow as his head began to throb.
He remembered the numbers, or at least, what they looked like… one was a tall skinny one, like a straight line, that was the ‘one’, right? And then there was another next to it… god, what was it called?! The thing that looked like a ball, with another ball on top of it! Which one was that again? Seven? Four? Eleventeen? Definitely one of those, for sure, but which?!
“Oh, hello.” A voice said, snapping Vince out of his confusion. “You’re too clean to be a feral, are you lost?”
Vince looked up. A woman was looking down at him, and smiling. She looked so pretty and nice, maybe she could be his nyu mumm-
Vince shook his head. He had to stop those fucking fluffy pony thoughts from working their way into his head! That’s what was making him so confused all the time, it was why it was so hard for him to remember anything! His mind was, bit by bit, becoming more like that of a worthless shitrat fluffy!
“Nu, dummeh!” Vince snapped at the woman. “Am nu a dummeh fwuffeh poneh! Am Vince!”
“Uh, okay…” The woman said, stepping back slightly in case he was carrying some kind of disease. “Do you live around here? Do you need help finding your way home?”
He did, but there was something about this woman, something about the way she was so… helpful, so nice, so fucking friendly that just made his blood boil! Why the fuck was she asking him?! She should already know! Why did everyone always feel the need to ask him things?! Why were they all so stupid?! Why couldn’t they just be as SMARTY as him?!
“NU DUMMEH! SHADDUP!” Vince shrieked at her. “NU WAN YOO HEWP, DUMMEH HOOMAN! VINCE WAN SKETTIES! NAO GIB! GIB SKETTIES NAO, DUMMEH!”
“Oh god, not one of those fucking Smarty things.”
“Wha?!” Vince shrieked. He fucking hated Smarties, there was no way in hell this stupid whore could seriously think he was a-
All further thoughts were emptied from VInce’s head as the woman’s foot ploughed into his guts, lifting him off the ground and sending him soaring through the air. It felt rather nice, apart from the searing ache in his guts.
But before too long, he saw the ground rushing up to meet him, and with a heavy ‘whump’, he landed back down once more, the air knocked out of his lungs, his chest throbbing in pain from the violent kick, and his mind spinning endlessly from the shock, the lack of air and the sudden burst of pain.
“Fucking Smarty, go fuck yourself!” The woman snarled before turning and walking away, leaving Vince splayed out on the cold, hard concrete of the sidewalk, his chest in agony with every wheezing, rasping breath he took.
A few minutes later, Vince was able to breathe in enough to stand up. His mind was still reeling from his encounter with that bitch, he couldn’t remember what he was even doing. He was looking for… for something, but he wasn’t sure what it was.
But he knew that if he just kept walking, he’d eventually find it.
So he walked, taking a turn down a side-alley. The sky was getting dark and cloudy, and something about that made Vince frightened. Of course, rain wasn’t an issue for humans, he’d been out in the rain lots of times… but something about it seemed suddenly dangerous…
So Vince waddled down the alley, weaving his way around grimy puddles and stinking bags of trash, feeling an uncomfortable gnawing ache in his tummy that could only be filled with food, all while keeping an eye on the sky as he watched it grow darker and scarier.
Then, he heard something.
“Mummah back, babbehs! Fin’ gud nummies fow bestest miwkies!”
The voice was like music to Vince’s ears, it was angelic, it was beautiful, it was…
A fucking fluffy pony.
Vince waddled deeper into the alley and found his way to an over-turned cardboard box, which was covered with grime on all sides and was starting to sag from the amount of rain it had already endured.
Inside the box was a basic ‘nest’ made up from old bits of trash and some stray leaves and twigs, nestled inside of which was the fluffy pony he had heard talking before. A female (he somehow knew automatically), with filthy purple fur and a dark indigo mane. She was slumped on her side, smiling softly, as a trio of tiny foals (yellow, blue and red) all fought to suckle at her bloated, swollen teats. Next to mama’s head was a small pile consisting of a half-eaten chicken leg, a few cold and bent French Fries and a single, solitary scrap of lettuce, which had once been green but was now mostly brown and looked very soggy.
It was a sorry sight alright… but all Vince saw was a pile of food, and a bitch in his way.
“Hey!” Vince shouted, startling her out of her blissful motherly duty. “Am Vince! Wan nummies!”
The mare looked at him, and puffed out her cheeks with a snort.
“Nu cawe! Gu 'way!”
“Yoo hab nummies! Vince heawd yoo!”
“Dun’ cawe! Nu gunna shawe wif yoo!”
Vince was taken aback. Fluffy ponies were meant to be such nice, friendly, stupid things… who the fuck was this whore to tell him he couldn’t have any of her food?!
“Dummeh mawe, yoo do as Vince say!”
“Nu! Yoo a poopie fwuffeh!” The mare said. “Yoo a dummeh smewwy! Nu wan gib yoo any nummies! Mummah nee’ nummies fow babbeh miwkies!”
Vince looked down at her tits, where red and yellow were currently suckling, having pushed blue out of the way (in fact, he spotted that yellow was currently sitting on blue’s head as it weakly cried out for help).
“Yoo dummeh babbehs am wowthwess!” Vince snapped, stepping closer to the mare, putting one of his hooves onto one of the cardboard flaps of the box. “Vince am smawty, smawtest fwuffeh ebah! Vince say yoo gib nummies to Vince, owe… owe Vince gib you biggest owies!”
The mare turned up her nose at him.
“Nu cawe! Dummeh poopie fwuffeh jus’ big dummeh!”
Vince was at the end of his tether. This bitch wasn’t fucking listening to him. Sure, he could just stomp on her and take her food if he wanted to… but that wasn’t enough anymore. He wanted to subjugate her, to make her bow to him for mercy, to beg for her fucking life and know her fucking place.
And that was when he spotted her foals.
“Yoo gib Vince nummies…” He snarled. “Owe Vince gib yoo babbehs owies.”
Mama’s eyes snapped open at that.
“Nuh… nu. Nu gib dummeh poopie fwuffeh nummies!” She argued weakly, her eyes whipping back and forth between Vince and her foals. Yellow and red looked to have had their fill of milk, but were still slurping away at mama’s teats, while blue’s mewling grew quieter underneath it’s sibling’s flabby ass.
“Wast wawnin’…” Vince hissed, stepping forward again, his head fully inside the box and glaring right into mama’s wide, terrified eyes. “Gib nummies. Nao.”
“N… nuh… nu gib num-”
Vince raised a hoof and brought it sweeping down, smacking both yellow and red on the sides of their sightless heads and sending them tumbling out of the box, across the cold hard ground of the alleyway.
“NU! BABBEHS!!!” Mama shrieked, scrambling to get up and, in the process, stepping on blue’s emacited belly.
Vince gave her a sharp hoof to the face, knocking her back down on her ass in her nest.
“Vince twy bein’ nice to yoo, dummeh mawe…” He hissed, stepping back out of the box and waddling over to the two mewling foals on the concrete. “Buh yoo nu wan’ be nice back. Su nao Vince gonna teach yoo a wesson, dummeh fwuffeh. Vince gonna make yoo sowwy!”
Vince raised his hoof again, and, as mama shrieked ‘NUUU!!!’, he brought his hoof down, crushing red’s fragile foal skull underneath it with one singular stomp.
“BESTEST BABBEH!!!” Mama screamed, flailing around in her nest as she desperately tried to climb out to her dead child, her hooves slipping and sliding against the wall of trash she had built for herself, which simply left her where she had started.
Vince took a step away from red and stood over yellow, looking down at the fat little bitch. It was stuck on it’s back, wobbling from side to side, it’s limbs flailing uselessly in the air as it endlessly chirped and squeaked.
Somewhere, in Vince’s fluffy pony mind, he could actually understand it. It was tricky, like trying to read something in Engrish, but he could piece it together, roughly. The baby was screaming ‘STOOPID MUMMAH! BABBEH HUNGWY! GIB MIWKIES!’
Vince stared down at it, and placed his hoof on it’s belly.
“Nu! Pwease nu!” Mama wailed. “Wiww gib nummies! Wiww gib Vince aww mummah’s nummies! Jus’ pwease nu huwt babbehs nu mowe!”
Vince looked up at her and glared, shooting her a look of absolute fucking hatred.
Deep in his core, the tiny fragments of humanity that remained lit up like a Las Vegas Christmas tree at the sight of the mother’s tear-soaked desperation and misery.
It was what made Vince feel alive, and he wasn’t going to let go of that just because the stupid cunt was ‘sowwy’.
So Vince pressed his hoof down on yellow’s bloated, fat guts, gently applying more and more pressure. He felt the foal’s soft, milk-swollen tummy squishing under his hoof, but he kept pressing, keeping his eyes fixed on mama the entire time. Mama herself couldn’t stop watching yellow, who continued to scream, but now calling for ‘hewp’ instead of just ‘miwkies’
Vince kept pressing, feeling the bones breaking and the skin tearing under his hoof. The foal began to scream, letting out a single high-pitched wail, but Vince kept pressing, kept squeezing, kept crushing the foal’s belly. Finally, it’s bowels gave way and a jet of brown milk-based liquid spurted out of it’s anus… then it gradually turned a dark red, as Vince continued to press, and press, and press…
Finally, with a sickening, wet ‘splat’ sound, the foal’s belly gave way. Vince’s hoof dropped suddenly, landing in a pool of burst organs, broken bones, half-digested milk and a lot of blood.
“BABBEH!!!” Mama shrieked, collapsing to the floor of the box. “BABBEH NU-U-U!!!”
Vince shook the filth off of his hoof and waddled back over to the box. He glanced down and spotted that, at some point or another, the blue foal had died too. He wasn’t sure if it was from starvation, cold, or simply being terrified of what unknown horrors were happening around it, but either way.
He flicked the foal corpse out of the box, letting it land next to the yellow and red ones, as Vince made his way closer to the mare, seething hatred still filling his eyes.
“Gib Vince nummies. Nao!” He snapped. The former-mama mare immediately obliged, picking up her meagre amount of food in her mouth and putting it down on the floor next to Vince’s hooves. He settled himself down and began eating, chomping his way through his tiny meal piece by piece, until there wasn’t a single morsel left. No chicken, no French Fries, not even any rotting lettuce.
He let out a single belch, then stood up, shaking himself off. He felt suddenly tired after his busy day of murder, bullying and, of course, thinking.
It was time for bed.
“Mobe, dummeh mawe.” He snapped at the mare, who immediately shuffled as much to the side as s he could, but that still didn’t leave enough room for Vince to get into the box.
“Nu, dummeh!” He snapped, hoofing her in the face again. “Yoo get owt! Vince wan sweepies! Yoo gib Vince wawm nestie!”
“Buh… buh mummah nee’ nestie, fow babbehs…” Mama argued weakly.
Vince glared at her, and felt a sick smile creep onto his fluffy face.
“Wha’ babbehs?” He asked.
Mama was about to reply… when her face suddenly fell, as she remembered she was not, in fact, a ‘mummah’ anymore.
With that miserably thought weighing heavily on her mind, the mare picked herself up and waddled out of hte nest, her head hanging miserably as she trudged out. Vince stepped in and nestled in, just as he heard a rumble above them, and the first few drops of rain began to fall.
Vince lay in the nest, not exactly comfortable, or even dry thanks to the box leaking, but it was at least warmer, drier, and safer than sleeping outside, like he had forced the mare to.
She was huddled up with her three dead foals, snuggling around them to try and give them some kind of warmth or protection from the heavy downpour, but rather obviously, it wasn’t helping much.
Vince curled deeper into the nest and drifted off slowly to sleep, hoping when he woke up, he wouldn’t be a fluffy pony anymore… but somehow knowing, deep in his heart, that it wouldn’t be the case.
(Next)