Where the Poopie Babbehs Go, Chapter Eight FINALE (By Za)

Where the Poopie Babbehs Go
By @Za

Originally Penned April 14th, 2020

Chapter Eight:
Come to Die

You don’t know who you are.

You don’t know where you are, what happened, or why you had the worstest hurties ever all over your body. The last thing you could remember was seeing the gates of Bye-Bye Land. As soon as they appeared, they were torn from your grasp. You fell quickly, quickly back to the real world. A jolt shocked you awake and your see-places bolted open. The colors of the sky above were all blurry, but still there. The glowing blue was unmistakable. You tried to stand, rolling over with all your might. Your tummy hurt and your leggies felt as if they’d fall off at any moment. You just couldn’t muster the strength to get up. Everything in you wanted to cry. To scream, to wiggle, to wail for your mummah. But something in you told you that you were smarter than that. You remembered a very clear danger before everything went darkies. Something, whatever it was, was out to get you. Tears welled up in your see-places because you really, really did not want to go forever sleepies. With all your might, you rocked back and forth. A deep pain in your ribs made you peep out a few sobs, but you successfully rolled over onto your tummy. You wished you hadn’t.

Beneath you were the corpses of several vaguely familiar fluffies. Chunks of them blown entirely off, left in a crimson mess of matted fluff and gore. You didn’t recognize any faces. Not because they were disfigured, although they were very much mangled and stained with tears and boo-boo juice. See-places were popped out of heads, toothies were broken or gone, chunks of fluff and flesh were missing or barely hanging on. It all made you feel sick to your tummy, but nothing made you feel sicker than the feeling that you were forgetting something important. Nervously, you hopped down from the pile of corpses.

Back on the ground, the grassies beneath your hoofsies, you surveyed the area. The pile was near a small human housie. It didn’t look very well put together, either. Around you was nothing but open forest. Nothing you recognized, though that didn’t surprise you. Your think-place was aching like nothing you’d ever felt. Each thump brought you closer to sickies. You should’ve already made sickies after seeing so many other fluffies in a big mound before you, all forever sleepies. But, again, something deep down told you you’d been through worse.

“H… huu… wan die…” croaked a nearby voice. Your head snapped to face it. Your tummy dropped and you squealed like a baby. This fluffy was impaled through the tummy with a pointy wooden stick coming up from the ground. The fluffy’s see-places were missing, leaving dark caverns to trickle boo-boo juice in their absence. Its ears were snipped off at the base, leaving the fluffy senseless to everything but pain. It had no fluff to speak of, it had been shaven entirely. You felt disgusted. You buckled to the ground and were sick everywhere. It cried softly, tugging at your heartstrings. “Wan… die…” it begged, wriggling the stumps that had replaced its leggies. You couldn’t reach the fluffy. There was no point in trying. With a weak groan you stood up and forced yourself around the housie. You wanted to figure out what kind of monster would do this to a group of harmless fluffies. As you nervously trotted to the front of the housie, you passed plenty of other fluffies who had gotten the same treatment as the one behind you. Their cries were grating, making your hear-places want to cry. “Wan die,” they whined in unison. It was haunting.

You came upon what looked like the front of the housie. There was a big path and a vroom-vroom out front, along with a door. You figured the nice man inside would help you find the monster. You examined the rickety wooden door to see letters engraved into it. In large letters, the door was clearly labeled SHAW. You put on the biggest, saddest expression you could. How could a nice mister like Shaw say no to such a sweet little fluffy? Before you could knock, the door came flying open. You were knocked back severely, banging your head against the vroom-vroom. Everything went darkies again.

You were in familiar territory again, surrounded by lots of cracks and booms. You were in the big nestie… no, it was your village. You were the Smarty, and you were proud of it. You looked around to see sights both familiar and foreign. Your home, your family, and your friends brought back warm, fuzzy feelings. The big orange humans with boom-boom sticks destroyed it all. A familiar silhouette stood before you. “Wun, wastest babbeh! Huu huu! Wun!” it cried, waving for you to turn and escape. You tried, but you were locked in place. The dark figure turned yellow, and you recognized her. Your mummah was so close and you had to help her. Alas, you were still frozen. You struggled with all your might, crying out for your dummy leggies to work. You knew that you had let her down before. Your brother, your daddeh, all gone. It was up to you, and you couldn’t fail. No matter what. A human closed in on her with a big sharp knife. He held it haphazardly to her throat, grinning like a sadistic maniac. His orange silhouette was free of any details other than dark, sunken eyes that pierced your very soul. “WUN BABBEH! MUMMAH WUB- GLLCHK!”

The bright-time came back and you felt a tight grip around your neck. Centimeters away from your face was Shaw. That name that had just inspired hope in you now inspired anger. This was the man that had slaughtered your herd for fun. You had seen many bad men in your time with the herd, but Shaw was the monster of monsters. You could feel yourself trembling as tears crept down your face. His see-places were wide and begging to see you on a stake with the others. “I bet ya thought ya’d be the one that got away, huh?” he taunted, twirling a very recognizable knife between his fingers. “Naw. Yer gonna die juuust like the others.” You took one good look at him and immediately threw up. It was fear, but not entirely. His clothes were an abominable patchwork of fluff. Emblazoned right across the sleeve of the arm he was holding you with was the familiar face of Fast Hoofsie, permanently screaming in horror. Further down the coat you saw your mummah. And Fanta Nummies, and Tummy Spots, and Three-Leggie, and…

No. No no no no. You’d recognize that patch of scarred brown fluff anywhere. Even though tears filled your eyes, you knew you were seeing it correctly. That was your daddeh’s fluff at the bottom of the coat. “See something ya like, shitrat?” he cackled, waving the knife so close to your see-places you could practically feel it slitting them open. “That your family?” You nodded shakily, bawling. “Mummah! Daddeh! Nuuuuuuuhuhuhu!” you cried, longing for the warm embrace of the fluff piles you would sit in many forevers ago. “Don’t worry little guy,” he growled, carrying you towards his housie, “I’m sure I can make socks or some shit outta you.” That housie was a death sentence and you weren’t going to let him take you. Not without a fight. “Dummeh,” you muttered, cursing Shaw under your breath. He pulled you back up to face level. “What’d ya call me?” Shaw shouted with an insane look in his see-places. His pupils were dilated and you knew he’d absolutely kill you. That is, if you hadn’t just tricked him. “Fwuffy said,” you began, swinging yourself into position. You tucked your back leggies into your tummy, angling yourself just right. “Shaw am dummeh hooman.” You ejected your leggies towards Shaw as quickly as possible, bucking him right in the nose. He flinched, swearing up and down as he clutched his face. You landed at his feet, bolting around to buck him once again in the back of the calf. His legs gave out as he crumbled to the ground, still clutching his face. “Ya goddamn rodent, I’m gonna MURDER YOU!” he howled, grasping desperately at his waist. You didn’t care if he was reaching for a knife. If you died now, at least you went down with a fight. You latched onto his face, slamming your hoofsies into him wildly. Both of his hands were fumbling with something behind your back. You didn’t care. Only hurties for the dummeh human. You were running out of energy though, and quickly. You needed to get off and run or else you would die. You weren’t afraid, not at all. You would gladly die now. You just knew that you couldn’t win this fight. A solemn sigh escaped your mouth as your hoof slaps slowed. “Sowwy mummah… sowwy daddeh…” you apologized, tears still trickling down your face, “nu can kiww munstah hooman.” You collapsed onto Shaw’s face, feeling his irregular shallow breaths against your tummy fluff. You rolled off of him, poised to run away with what little strength you had left.


You jolted and began to scamper away. You noticed, however, that Shaw wasn’t moving. Nevertheless, you headed for the tree line. As you looked back, though, he was still perfectly motionless. You crept cautiously closer, terrified by the pure silence and stillness that had so quickly replaced the violence from before. You peered over Shaw’s massive build to see a bloody hole in his forehead and a boom-boom stick in his hand. You put the pieces together quite quickly. He was going to give you forever sleepies while you were on his face, but you rolled out of the way just in time. Now, the hunter himself was dead. You smiled. That was wrong, smiling at the death of another. But you didn’t care. This man had caused you so much anguish and pain that you felt you deserved it. You looked up into the sky and knew that your herd was looking down on you with pride.

“Huu huu huu…” came a cry from within the housie. You trod cautiously over to the open door and peeled in. You saw fluffies in cages, some familiar and some unfamiliar. “Smawty Stwong Bwanch!” the familiar fluffies called out cheerfully. The unfamiliar ones, their eyes damp and hopeless, lit up once more. “Hewp? Hewp fow fwuffy?” one called to you, signaling to the lock on its cage. With a bit of work, you freed them all from their boxes and embraced your new herd in a hug.

“Wuh hewd do nao, Smawty?” a small filly asked you. She had a beautiful pink coat and bright, glistening blue eyes. By all accounts, she was flawless and could have a loving home. That is, if not for the limp back leggies she dragged behind her. Despite your past gripes with dummeh leggies babbehs, you hoisted her up gently to sit upon your back. “Hewd am goin’ home,” you told her with a smile. This answer seemed to satisfy everyone present.

You and your herd stepped out from the housie. You allowed them all time to take in the fresh air and light from the bright-ball. You knew it had been a while for some of these poor fluffies. You also gave them the time to give sorry poopies to Shaw. Well, that may be a lie. You may have started that. Either way, you and your herd eventually set off back into the woods. It was time to rebuild the home you had always known.

Or is it…?

Read the Sequel ==>
<== Previous Chapter


Not what I expected. Happy ending, as far as fluffies ever get.
I can believe anyone with the bad taste enough to sew faces into multicolored fur clothing could be stupid enough to shoot themself in the face trying to hit a fluffy.


Alright. That fluffy was lucky that the human was that stupid


My eyes have been open about smarties… but I have one question. Do they call people dummeh or whatever


The only ways a fluffy can win are through human compassion or human stupidity.


No, mine don’t. They only use “dummeh” as an insult. A hellgremlin herd would invariably call humans “dummeh.” However, a herd like the one depicted in this story has come to respect humans rather than hate them. Until this, of course. Even still, I feel that in the end Strong Branch harbors no ill will towards humanity as a whole. I plan to write a sequel eventually, so we’ll see.


I’ve only known hellgremlin smarties but I’m pretty sure this right here is booru when the hellgremlin didnt happen


Hellgremlins were still prevalent at the time I wrote this. I just felt like breaking the mold.


I feel like the concept of smart and strong leader fluffies (well, as smart and strong as fluffies can be) is largely underused. Even the best fluffies can only beat a dumb and/or weak human, so the best bet is to stay away. I hope that the herd will do just that. I do love that Shaw got what he did in the end. Even from an abuser’s perspective, he’s terrible and disgusting


I did my best to make Shaw as repugnant and mentally twisted as I could. I would’ve liked to expound more on this herd than I did, but hey… that’s what sequels and spin-offs are for.



The other hunters investigate the scene of the crime and put two and two together.

“Okay shitrats, you wanted a war, you got it.”



I loved this story! Thank you!


That means a lot to me, thank you so much!

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interesting read, though at times i felt like i was reading a story about little tiny people. i don’t think i’ve quite read anything that imbued fluffies with the concept of dignity, nobility, and honor. and imagine dying to a fucking fluffy. i can picture it now as he ascended to the pearly gates, st peter and charles darwin himself were waiting there to give him his darwin award

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Yeah, this was my first written work and is definitely plagued by a lot of issues where it feels like it’s about tiny people. I’d do a lot of things differently today. But I’m glad you enjoyed it!