Working It Out With The Landlord: By Stwumpo

“Alright Junior, read to play daddeh’s new game?”

The neon green wingy babbeh with his greenish brown mane was brimming with excitement. His new daddeh had rescued his mummah from a pack of dogs, thereby saving “aww babbehs fankyu hoomin ou am nicey hoomin!” New daddeh was so nice! He had nummies and toysies! “Hooway! Wat gamesie wan pway?”

“Finger Puppets.”

The babbeh cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Fingah puppews? Wike bawkie munstah?” His daddeh laughed. “No Junior, not like dogs. Here, I’ll show you!”

Daddeh brought out a toolbox, and when he opened it, it was full of pretty clothes! Shirts, pants, hats, boots, all fluffy sized! And some for babbehs, too! “Waaaaaaow! Suuuuu pweeeeetty!” The foal began jumping for joy, fluttering his wingies to help his excited leaping.

Daddeh smiled and picked out an outfit for Junior. It was a little Donald Duck outfit, complete with a sailor hat. Junior was very cooperative in getting dressed, he was so happy to play a game with nyu daddeh! And he even gets to wear pretty colors!

Once he was wearing the shirt and hat, he started scampering around the tabletop. “Babbeh wunnin suuuuu fast! Babbeh wub nyu not-fwuff! Babbeh feew wawm an wike babbeh awways hab huggies!”

Daddeh smiled and gave gentle upsies to Junior, who nuzzled his fingers and cooed. “Fankyu fow pway nyu gamesie wif babbeh, daddeh. Joonya wubbed nyu fun gamesie.” Again, daddeh chuckled. “Oh Junior, this isn’t the game. I was just getting you ready.” Junior was puzzled again, but before he could ask any questions, daddeh flipped him over on his tummy and started scratching his back.

“Teehee! Siwwy daddeh su siwwy, gif babbeh tickwes!” Daddeh said nothing, and suddenly Junior felt something strange. He felt something touch his poopy place. “Daddeh? Wai am touchin poopy pwace? Babbeh nu make bad poopies, and mummah aweddy gib wicky cweanies!”

“Shhhhhhhhh” he said as he carefully applied pressure until his index finger could overcome Junior’s desperate attempt to clench his poopy place closed. With a soft “pop” it found its way inside.

“Screeeeee! Owwwwwies! Wowstest poopy pwace huwties! Daddeh, hewp! Sabe Joonya!”

But he wasn’t helping. Instead, Junior felt daddeh’s second knuckle enter him, much to his horror. "Nuuuuu! Poopy pwace nu fow dis! Tuu huwties! Tuu big fow babbeh wittwe poopy pwace! Owwwwwies! huwties suuuu much!" Daddeh chuckled warmly and turned his hand so Junior was facing him.

The terrified and sobbing foal had pulled his front weggies in tight and was trying to hide behind them. His back weggies, meanwhile, kicked impotently and frantically as he tried desperately to dislodge daddehs massive finger from his tiny babbeh poopy place. “Junior? You need to stop crying bud, you’re not being a very good puppet.” Junior peeked from behind his hooves. “S…sowwy daddeh, but wittwe babbeh hab huwties! Daddeh am suuuuu big and wittwe babbeh Joonya am tuu smaww! Pwease daddeh, nu mowe poopy huwties!”

Daddeh sighed. “Junior, you agreed to play finger puppets, now you have to act like a puppet. You’re Donald Duck, he’s your favorite cartoon! Act like him!” Junior gulped and whimpered. “Huuuu…d…dummeh…dummeh Mickey! Donawd nu wike meanie Mowsie nu mowe! Huuuuuu dewe, daddeh wet babbeh gu?” Daddeh shook his head. “No Junior, I’m sorry. That wasn’t good enough.”

He bent his finger inside the tiny foal, and he could feel its organs being pushed around, albeit through the barrier of his intestinal tract. He could see Junior’s tummeh bulge out when he did, and his ribs started to show through as well.

Junior was screaming. Now he knew why daddeh wanted him in the basement. Mummah couldn’t hear him down here. It’s where daddeh went to do “scawy woud gamesies” like building playroom equipment for his family. He was looking down at his body, but couldn’t understand what he was seeing.

His tummeh was way too big. It never looked like this! Not even when he’d had his fill of mummah’s bestest milkies! His poopy place was in agony, widened to what felt like its limit, but that was nothing compared to the feeling of all his tummy sketties being pushed and squished! It was really hard to breathe, and daddeh’s finger was so big and strong! He couldn’t even make scaredy poopies! He had hoped that his poopy place could save him, but instead he just threw up.

Limp and sobbing, he could see the outline of his rib cage as daddeh flexed again and again. “Isn’t this fun? You’re like a little puppet! You’re a fun toy for daddeh!” Junior wept. “Nu wan be puppet! Nu am toysie! Am fwuffy! Am onwy wittew babbeh, nu wike dis game!” Daddeh tutted at him. “Now Junior, that sounds like complaining. Daddy doesn’t like a complainer. I’m going to have to punish you now.”

Junior howled. “Nuuuuu! Nu wan biggew huwties! Nu wan! Babbeh huwties! Babbeh nu feew gud, poopie pwace feew weiwd! Daddeh, peeeeze! Babbeh wub daddeh, but babbeh am tuu scawedy an hab huwties! Pwease wet babbeh gu…” His daddy responded by pulling his tail down.

“Owwies! Daddeh, nu am posed tu puww pwetty taiw! Nu wi-” He was cut off by two pains. Firstly, the pulling of his tail brought him a quarter inch further down daddeh’s finger. But secondly, he felt his tail snap right at the base. “SCREEEEEEE!!! OWWWWWWWIES! HUWTIES SU BAD! OWOWOWOWWWIES DADDEH STAAAAAAHP! TAIW HUWTIES! POOPY PWACE NU CAN DU DIS FOW WONG! DADDEH PWEASE NU BWAKE BABBEH POOPY PWACE!”

Daddeh held the shivering, traumatized colt up to his face. The green babbeh’s body was grotesquely warped. His gut was easily three times normal size, and his back legs were both at odd angles. It was as though his soft bones had been bent by the presence of Daddeh in his poopy place. His tail hung limp, barely moving as he tried in vain to thrash it. All he managed to do was jiggle the small part that hadn’t snapped internally, and this barely did anything but hurt him more.

His breathing was labored. He was panting desperately for air, his eyes bloodshot from screaming and sobbing. Blood and shit had barely seeped out past daddeh’s finger, and there was vomit dripping from Junior’s mouth. His fluff was caked with it, kept moist by a steady supply of snot, tears, drool, and additional vomit.

He didn’t understand. Daddeh loves him! Daddeh loves all good fluffies! Why would daddeh do this to poor Junior? He wanted to ask, but speaking felt like an impossible task. He was so tired, so worn out from thrashing and screaming and begging and trying to wake up from the nightmare that is his life.

This morning he’d been a happy babbeh with a loving family and a good home. Now he wasn’t even sure he’d have a working poopy place or tail.

“Alright Junior, that’s enough finger puppets for today. Time to take your outfit off!” Daddeh started delicately using his free hand to remove bits of costuming, but Junior grew restless. “Daddeeeeeeh,” cried the helpless foal, kicking his leggies in desperation, “babbeh nu wan be puppet nu mowe, pwease daddeh nu be inside babbeh nu mowe, babbeh am tuu smaww! Daddeh huwtin’ babbeh tummeh!” Daddy stopped, turned, and stared at Junior.

“Junior? Don’t be ungrateful. Daddeh lets your whole family live here because you all make daddeh happy. If you stopped making daddeh happy, well, maybe Daddeh can find other fluffies who will love him. Better fluffies, who don’t cry like a stupid chirpy baby whenever they get a little hurt.” Junior was hurt by this sentiment. His whole family had narrowly avoided death before daddeh saved them, and now Junior might get them kicked out??? Oh no!

“Daddeh, nu! Joonya sowwy! Joonya wub daddeh! Jus nu fink babbeh am big nuff fow fun gamesie! Am tuu smaww fow daddeh fingew!” His father shook his head. “I’m sorry Junior. I understand this isn’t your favorite, but daddeh needs to play Finger Puppets, and you’re the littlest fluffy I have. That means it’s your job to help daddeh.”

He gruffly pulled his finger out of Junior, and after easily a half hour with a human finger reshaping and redefining the boundaries of his rectum, Junior felt bad.

He shit himself immediately. Didn’t even feel himself, it just fell out. His tummeh sketties felt like they’d gone back to their warm tummeh howsie, but everything his daddeh had shoved around still ached. “Huuuhuuuuuuuu…bewwy huwt…”

"Now remember Junior, daddeh has to play finger puppets with the littlest fluffy. So until one of your siblings shrinks," he chuckles as he says it, “that means you, little fella.”

He brought the still barely coherent Junior back to the saferoom where his mummah and her other babbehs were playing “Bwocky ow Baww,” a thrilling Fluffy mind game where all babbehs try to guess if their toys are blocks or balls.

They are somehow only right a third of the time.

Daddeh set Junior down on the far side of the room from his bed, the food, and the litterbox. He’d have to walk past his family to get there. Daddeh left, but Junior sat for a moment, working up the strength to move.

As he stood, he could feel that his back weggies were bowed. They splayed out and when he tried to run it not only gave him worstest hurties, it was much slower now. He softly huuhuued as he inched across the playroom. “Huuuuu bewwy huwties su muchies, tummeh nu feew fuww nu mowe, haf bigges’ daddeh owwies in poopy pwace…”

As he reached his mummah, she scampered to him. As she arrived, she saw him crying.

“Hewwow, babbeh! Nu cwy nu mowe, mummah hewe! Hooway fow babbehs an mummah tugedda!” Mummah sat back on her rump and started clapping, and her other babbehs followed suit. All but Junior.

Mummah looked worried. “Babbeh Joonya? Wai makin saddy wawas? Am ebbyting otay?” Junior sniffed back a tear. “N…nu, mummah. Babbeh…Daddeh pway meanie huwties game wif babbeh. Daddeh am…Daddeh am wowstest scawy munstah! Gif huwties tu Joonya! Weggies nu wowk wite nu mowe! Tummeh sketties haf owwies! Daddeh wewe inside babbeh teeny wittwe poopy pwace! Babbeh su scawed and twy caww fow mummah, but mummah nu heaw! Onwy Daddeh, an Daddeh bweak pwetty taiw! Daddeh bweak poopy pwace!”

He’d been so caught up with confessing his ordeal to his mother that he’d stopped looking her in the eye. When he looked back up, he was shocked to see a stern face, not his warm and loving mummah. This was his mother speaking.

“Babbeh!” She booped him softly on his nose. Not violent, but a harsh rebuke nonetheless. “Nu caww daddeh meanie! Daddeh am gud daddeh! Daddeh sabe famiwy! Siwwy babbeh, daddeh gamesies nebba meanie, awways gud! Babbeh pwobwy nee pwactice at gamesie.” Junior was heartbroken. She didn’t believe him! “B…but mummah! Wook at poopy pwace! Poopy pwace tuu biggies! Nu feew pwetty nu mowe! Haf owwies!” He sat back on his haunches, his gaping butthole making a wet ‘squelch’ as he settled. He looked up through tearful eyes at his mummah. “Mummah…mummah gif huggies fow babbeh? Make…make babbeh nu mow haf owwies in poopy pwace?” To his relief, she nestled him close in her soft, warm fluff. She smelled so pretty, like flowers and fresh rain. He sobbed and sobbed into her fluff, crying all the hurt and betrayal away. At least he tried to. Nothing would truly eclipse the knowledge that he’d have to do this again.

Mummah cooed softly and sang her most relaxing mummah song. “Wittew babbeh cweempuff, ebbyting awwite. Eben in da dawkest dawk, mummah wub am bwite.”

His deep throated sobs turned into whimpers and hiccups as he started suckling his hoof for comfort. “Dewe dewe babbeh, mummah wub ou. Mummah knu babbeh nu gunna wike aww nyu gamesies, but daddeh knu wat daddeh doing! Nu wowwy babbeh, awways safe wif mummah.”

He cried harder, both because he was moved by his mother’s love, and because he knew she was wrong. Or rather, she was right. Daddeh did know what he was doing. But mummah didn’t.

“Shhhh it otay babbeh, wet da saddie wawas out. Can mummah hewp babbeh? Babbeh need anyting mummah can bwing fow babbeh?”

Weeping still, though trying to stifle it, the potent mix of pain, fear, and desperation that lived within the foal took command of his mouth.

“Can…can babbeh haf… *Huuuuuuuu…*Babbeh wan…wan hab wittwe bwudda…” Mummah squeezed him tight. “Awwww, mummah wub aww babbehs. Dat am gweat finky pwan! Mummah wiww hab tawkies tu daddeh wen daddeh come gif nu-miwkies tu babbehs. Den babbehs get weaw miwkies and hab fwuffpiwe! Hooway!”

In the kitchen, Daddeh was filling bottles, each one with the name of one of his foals. He filled them all with standard Bioenriched formula to help the foals grow. All but one. When he arrived at the bottle marked for Junior, he put the formula away in his fridge and returned with a new bottle. “Forever Foal.” He filled the bottle and shook it up so it was an even mix with the water and milk.

“Alright fluffies, time for nummies!”