Vince opened his eyes slowly, and saw a teal-coloured fluffy pony glaring down at him, his cheeks puffed out in scornful fury. Behind him, Vince could see a handful of other fluffies, of varying colors and types.
A feral herd.
“Wha…?” Vince asked, his mind still hazy from the pain shooting through his genitals.
“DUMMEH POOPIE!!!” The Smarty yelled directly in his face. “DIS SMAWTY WAND! YOO NU BEWONG HEWE!!!”
Vince shakily got to his feet and attempted to glare back, but he was barely able to stand anymore, and the pain was too much for him to focus his face into an expression of anger.
“Gluh… buh… dis Vin… Vince’s wand…” Vince attempted to argue back. Smarty just snorted.
“Shaddup dummeh poopie! Yoo gud fow nuffin’! Jus’ a big dummeh smewwy POOPIE!!!”
“Nu am poopie… am Vince…” Vince argued back. The Smarty looked at him, and smirked cruelly.
“Nu. Yoo am hewd’s new poopie-nummah.” The Smarty said, before turning and exposing his shit-encrusted rear to Vince. “Nao gib wickie-cweanies!”
Vince looked at the Smarty’s filthy rear in absolute horror, as he heard some of the herd giggling.
“Dummeh poopie fwuffeh! Num dah poopies!” One of the herd cheered.
“Nu! Nu wan wickie poopies!” Vince cried, turning away as his jelly-like legs failed to help him escape.
“GET BACK HEWE!” Smarty snapped, stomping forwards and delivering a firm hoof to Vince’s head, which stunned him enough to halt his movement for a moment.
When Vince’s eyes had cleared, the Smarty’s shit-coated ass was inches away from his face. Every breath he took filled his tiny lungs with the stink of rancid several-day-old shit. He wanted to vomit, and knew he was going to… but he also knew this was the only way to avoid being hurt more.
Eyes clamped shut, lips pursed, tongue barely out at all… Vince craned his head forwards and began to lick the Smarty’s anus clean.
“Oooh, dat tickwes! Yoo gud at gibbin’ wickie-cweanies!” Smarty cooed, laughing cruelly to himself. Then, with a sharp ripping sound, he let a turd plop out of his rear and directly onto Vince’s tongue.
Vince, unable to stand it anymore, promptly vomited right where he sat, soaking the ground and most of his fluff with brown-colored bile.
“Ew! Sicky wawas!” One of the herd squeaked. Smarty turned, furious… but then saw Vince, coated in his own vomit and chunks of Smarty’s shit… and he couldn’t help but laugh.
“Hee-hee-hee! Yoo so dummeh, stoopid poopie! Yoo stay wif hewd, gib gud wickie-cweanies again soon! Stoopid dummeh…”
And with that the Smarty waddled onwards, giggling to hismelf the entire time. The herd followed, all snickering and chuckling as they passed Vince, until finally the entire herd had waddled past.
Vince had a simple choice. Either brave life alone as a fluffy pony, which he knew from experience was no picnic… or join up with the feral herd, and attempt to ignore their bullying for the sake of survival.
Two days later, Vince was wishing he’d stayed in the alleyway by himself.
He’d joined up with the herd, but his life hadn’t gotten any easier. Whenever the herd found food, Smarty ate first, then the pregnant mothers, then the mothers with foals, then everyone else… then Vince. But the food they found was so sparse, the herd was lucky if there was ever enough for all of them, meaning most of the herd ended up hungry and frustrated.
And when they were frustrated, they took it out on Vince.
Being the designated ‘poopie nummah’ for the entire herd was a living hell. Every moment of Vince’s life was spent having a fluffy pony jam it’s rear up against his mouth, demanding ‘wickie-cweanies wickie-cweanies’ in their infuriating sing-songy voices… most of them took the opportunity to do as the Smarty had done and fart in Vince’s face… some even just copied the Smarty entirely and took a shit in his mouth.
Vince had hoped he’d just get used to the taste eventually, but he never did. Each turd was disgustingly unique, somehow always worse than the last one every time. He vomited almost every time, and the herd always laughed at him.
But he couldn’t leave. The herd was relatively small, but there was always someone looking. If Vince got up and tried to walk away from the group, he would immediately hear a shout.
“HEY! DUMMEH POOPIE! WHEWE YOO GOIN’?!”
Vince would turn and see the Smarty glaring at him, murderous fury in his eyes, and Vince would sullenly trot back to the herd.
Despite this, he wasn’t even allowed to sleep in their fluff-pile at night. He constantly stank of shit and vomit, so they kept him at a distance at all times (unless they needed their fucking ‘wickie-cweanies’ of course). He’d even tried to slip away at night, but it was like the Smarty had a sixth sense. He’d snap awake and demand Vince rejoin the group.
But then it all changed (albeit not for the better) on the third day.
The herd had been constantly moving throughout the day, looking for food, shelter, water… well, everything necessary for survival, really. They had passed many alleyways, stores, and had finally made their way to a residential area. Vince vaguely recognised some of the houses, but couldn’t tell for sure which one was his. He knew it had to be one of them though, if he could only get away from the herd…
Meanwhile, the Smarty had come up with a brilliant plan. A plan so brilliant, he was amazed no other Smarty before him had come up with anything similar.
He would go up to one of the houses, where the humans lived, and then (and this is the really brilliant part), he’d bang his hooves on their doors, and demand they give him and his herd everything they wanted!
It was completely foolproof!
So the Smarty led the herd across a patchy, dry lawn and halted in front of a frontdoor, rapping his hooves against it.
“OPEN UP! SMAWTY WAN NUMMIES!” He shouted. “…AN’ HEWD NEE’ NUMMIES TOO, MAYBE. OPEN UP DUMMEH HOOMANS!”
The door swung open… revealing a tall man in a wifebeater, his arms bulging with muscle, his hair shaved into a sharp buzzcut, with one eye permanently narrowed and the other wide and staring.
Vince had a bad feeling in his tummy.
“What the fuck was that?” The man snapped at them in a sharp tone.
Smarty, however, stood his ground, puffing out his cheeks.
“Smawty say, dummeh homman gib nummies! Dis Smawty wand nao, an-”
Smarty never got to finish his sentence.
Because Buzzcut’s fist suddenly arced down through the air, pounding down onto the center of the Smarty’s head from above. With a sickening wet ‘CRACK’, Smarty fell to the ground, the skin of his head having ripped open and revealing his skull had been split in half from the punch.
The herd scattered almost immediately.
“Hewp! Hewp soon-mummah!” A particularly bloated mare squealed as Buzzcut advanced towards her, stomping down on her with one of his tightly-laced army boots. The mare’s half-formed foals burst out of her guts as her skin ripped and tore apart, spilling amniotic fluid and blood all over the lawn.
One of the toughies decided to try and fight back, running up and headbutting Buzzcut’s leg.
Bad move.
Buzzcut picked up the toughy by he head in one hand, wrapped the other arm around the toughy’s body, then with a single powerful yank tore the toughy’s head clean off.
Vince, meanwhile, had bolted.
The moment the Smarty had been killed, he took off, knowing from personal experience just how much pain humans could cause fluffy ponies when they really wanted to hurt them. He fled across the patchy lawn of Buzzcut’s front yard and darted into his neighbor’s, intending to bury himself among some bushes or foliage… when he was suddenly picked up.
“HEWP! VINCE NEE’ HEWP!!!” Vince shrieked as he was lifted into the air… only to find a face that looked very different from Buzzcut’s. The man who had picked him up was older and in worse shape. He looked to be about 45, with balding brown hair, a pudgy face and large glasses.
“Hello little fluffy!” The man cooed, tickling Vince under the chin. “You look like a feral… want me to be your new owner?”
“Nu am fewal… am Vince!” Vince insisted.
“Of course you do.” The man said, turning and carrying Vince towards his home while holding the brown fluffy pony in both hands, looking him over… and, in the process, spying Vince’s mangled genitalia. “And a girl too, even better!”
“Nu am mawe! Am a boy! Am VINCE!” Vince wailed.
“Sure thing, sweetie, whatever you say.” The man said.
The door swung shut behind them as Vince was carried into his new home. Somehow the click of the latch filled him with more fear than anything else in his entire life ever had before.
