Chapter 19 Bad Babbeh
Erik took Butter to Sleet’s small saferoom. Though the microfluffy was sobbing, she looked around in amazement. “D…daddeh housie am su big…” she sniffled.
“Daddeh is big so he needs a big housie.” Erik said. “Don’t worry. We’ll be somewhere smaller.” He said. He opened the saferoom door, seeing Sleet still cuddling Majesty.
“Daddeh!” Sleet said, her tail wagging. Then noticed the tiny fluffy in Erik’s hand. “Daddeh hav ‘nothew babbeh fo Seet?”
“Not quite.” Erik said. “This is Butter. She’s a micro fluffy. She’s just like you, but smaller.” He knelt down, his hand on the floor so Sleet could smell Butter, and Butter could smell Sleet back.
“Su smaww…” Sleet said, accepting this right away. “Wai fwuffy cwy?”
“Butter is very sad right now. Her special friend hurt a babbeh she took in. And she’s a soon mummah.”
Sleet gasped. “Dat am su saddies!” She said.
“I brought her here because her milk places are hurting and Majesty needs milk. She can feed him until she’s got her own babbehs.”
Butter looked at Erik worriedly. “Buh…wut bout Budda’s babbehs?” She asked.
“You’ll have more than enough milk to feed them. Letting Majesty feed will make the milk place hurties go away.” Erik told Butter, stroking her head with a finger.
“Buh…babbehs….” Butter was still hesitant.
Erik felt his expression tighten. “Butter…you’re not thinking of being a selfish fluffy, are you?” He asked. “Only BAD fluffies are selfish.” Emphasizing the bad to really drive that point home.
Butter flinched at the word bad. She trembled, not wanting to be bad, but not wanting to give up her miwk to a strange foal. A foal that was even bigger than she was.
Erik could see her hesitating. “If you don’t agree, I’ll just have to have a machine steal your miwk.” He was lying. There weren’t milk pumps made for micros, but of course Buttter didn’t know that.
“N-nu! Nu hav mashine steaw miwkies! Budda wiww shawe!” The fear of having her miwk stolen was far scarier to the microfluff than giving it willingly.
Erik smiled and lowered Butter to the ground. “That’s good.” He told her. He then pet Majesty, who peeped in surprise, still blind as a sensitive babbeh. “Majesty, you’re hungry, aren’t you?” He got some peeps which he assumed were affirmative and guided the weak legged babbeh over to Butter. While Majesty could probably walk and see if he tried, he still kept his eyes closed and crawled.
The foal sniffed, able to smell miwk closeby, and crawled close to the microfluffy. The fluffy that was smaller than him, but he didn’t care. He wrapped his mouth around the microfluffy’s teats, able to fit both in his mouth easily, and began to suckle.
Erik watched, satisfied that Butter would be useful. He pet Sleet lightly. “Be nice to Butter, okay? She’s going though a hard time.” He told Sleet. “Call for me if she’s having a hard time sharing.” He phrased it like this, but he meant for Sleet to tattle on Butter if she tried to withhold milk from Majesty. It wasn’t like she needed it while she was pregnant. Fluffies were too stupid to know they’d produce milk until the babbehs grew teeth. He reached out to give her scritches.
Sleet nodded. “Yus daddeh.” She said, and cooed, nuzzling into the scritches.
Erik missed this, when Sleet was a good fluffy. It was like having his old fluffy back. She was so cute and having her own little pretty foal…When Majesty was done suckling, he rolled away and gave a burp. Erik grinned and pet the tummy, making the little foal giggle and peep. “See, Butter? You did a good thing, helping Majesty.”
Butter was sobbing, as she stared at the foal that stole her miwkies. What about her babbehs? She worried they wouldn’t have enough when she had them! She looked at her daddeh as he pet her head. “Buttah…wiww haf enuff fo babbehs?”
“Yes. You’ll have enough. You were a mummah, remember? This is the miwk from last time too. You’ll have more than enough. I have formula for micros too.” Erik reassured her. “Now I have to check on my other fluffies.” He said.
Just as he left he got the knock on the door he was expecting. He’d gotten the text that the fluffy trainers were here to collect Brownie. He opened the door to see two men in fatigues, caps, sunglasses, boots…they looked intimidating to him, a human. He saw one guy even had a scar, but a closer look showed it was a stick on, the edge peeling a little. “Hello. You two are here for Brownie?” He asked.
The men nodded, one unbending enough to smile. “Yeah. Nothing to worry about. We’re just the guys who fetch them, not train them. But we gotta look the part so the fluffies are scared. It wouldn’t do ‘em any good if we showed up looking like regular people.” He said in a soft southern accent. He had a square jaw and brown hair peeked out from under the cap. It was short, but not the jarhead military haircut. He held a beaten up looking crate that smelled terrible. Erik looked dubiously at it.
“Strong as new, I promise.” He said. “We rough up the edges and spray it with fart spray to make it bad. A little handful of gravel too. We want the fluffies to hate every part of the experience so they’ll think twice before misbehaving again.”
The one with the fake scar laughed. “Yeah, we can’t touch em other than putting them in the crate and a light sorry sticking if they try to shit on us or bite us. We mostly yell at them and get them to the training center. The guy there took so many fluffy training classes. I dunno how he deals with them.” He looked at his sheet. “So…Brownie, right?” He asked. He looked over the details. “Got a new leg and brown. I’m surprised. Normally the off color ones are so well behaved.” He said.
Erik winced. “I think it’s a mix of her being very smart and never being feral. I separated their mother very early, so they never got shown that favoritism. I think she let it go to her head.”
The brunette nodded. “Yup. Always the smart ones. If they don’t get shown life is harsh and they need a human, they get uppity.” He looked at Erik. “You said your goodbyes?” He asked.
Erik nodded. “I already told her some people were coming for her. She’s being kept in the tub.” He stood back and let the men do their job.
Fake scar put on his stern face. “Alright. Let’s do this.” He said. He stomped through the house and practically threw open the bathroom door. “There’s the little shit!” He said in a shockingly loud voice.
Brownie was plotting how to get out, only to yelp as the door flew open. She shit in fear, seeing two strange men. “B-bad wordsies!” She said. She saw them approach her. “N-nu! Daddeh! DADDEH!” She cried, and was yanked up by the scruff. “Screeeee! Nu bad upsies! Pu babbeh downsies!” Brownie was left dangling, being bounced roughly as she was carried out.
“You’re gonna learn, you little shit.” The brunette man said, giving a nasty smile. “You think you’re so smart? You’re gonna shape up or go forever sleepies!” He saw the foal’s eyes widen in fear.
“N-nuuu! Nu bad fwuffy! Am gud fwuffy!” She looked up to see her daddeh as they went through the living room. He’d save her! “Daddeh! Daddeh, sabe babbeh!” She tried to reach out to him.
Erik only shook his head. “No, Brownie. They’re the people who’re going to fix you. You’re too much of a bad fluffy to live here. You’re not a foal anymore. You’re almost a full grown fluffy.” He said. This was true. Brownie was right on the cusp of being a mare. “Also, feel free to sterilize her at the facility. I don’t think I want to deal with a mare again. I’ve got Goldenrod.” He said, despite having problems with him as well.
The men nodded, and left, Brownie still wailing in their grip. He sighed, feeling down. He could use a walk. He’d check on the foals after. He had enough time for a quick walk before the person to adopt Peppermint was here. At least he had someone who wanted an intelligent fluffy. They also had a firm hand, apparently. Trained their fluffies. Erik knew the smart ones needed a firm hand to keep them on track. More than Erik was fit for. He knew he’d been too soft on his fluffies. Never again. He was learning with the micros. How to be firm with them. He stepped in too late when it came to Brownie and Sleet. He was at least learning when it came to Goldenrod.
Erik walked down the street, trying to clear his head. He felt bad. He knew Brownie needed to be fixed of this behavior, but it was hard to see her be treated like that. To hear her crying for him, and he was unable to do anything. No, he made the choice to not do anything. He watched her be taken out in tears.
Speaking of tears…he soon heard the recognizable sound of a fluffy crying. He sighed, heading over to see if he could be of any assistance. He didn’t have the heart to go abusing non bratty street fluffies. Or abusing any street ferals in general. If he was seen kicking one, what would the community think of him? He soon saw the source of the crying. A foal trapped under an overturned plastic cup. It was pushing at the cup as hard as it could, but the foal was just too weak to budge it. Erik blinked, and looked further down the alleyway. Where was the foal’s family? Surely a foal this small was too young to be left alone. Ah. There they were. The mother was dead, and looked like she’d been dead for some time. There seemed to be a foal under the mother, dead as well.
The foal sobbed. “Huuhuuu…nyu daddeh? Sab babbeh? Pwease wet outies!” The foal rested his front hooves on the clear walls of his prison, looking up at Erik hopefully, his tail wagging. When the cup did not vanish after a few seconds, the foal sat heavily on his rear. “Huuuhuuuhuuu… babbeh nu no wha babbeh did…
Erik sighed, deciding to save the thing. He tried to nudge the cup over with his foot…it didn’t move. Puzzled, Erik tried harder, and while the cup started to bend, it did not lift from the round. The man crouched down, and saw a clear substance on the rim of the cup and the ground. Probably superglue. So they wanted to keep people from rescuing the thing? What was to stop Erik from destroying the cup? Just as he was about to reach for his keys, he heard a loud,
“HEY! Don’t touch him! He’s mine!”
Erik jumped, startled, and saw a teenager in a hoodie run up, pliers in hand. He scowled, knowing what those pliers were for. “Why would you hurt a little foal? He did nothing wrong.” Even if Erik got into a bit of abuse, killing a stray foal? That seemed a little messed up.
The kid sneered at him. “Because fuck you, that’s why. What’re you? A hugboxing faggot?” He asked.
Erik narrowed his eyes. “Better than being a brainless abusing piece of shit.” He shot back, a bit stung. So what if he loved his fluffies? They were adorable and loved unconditionally!
“Then shut up and piss off. I’m gonna let this fucker starve to death.” The teen grinned. “Or I’ll give him pieces of his mom and brother whenever he asks for food.”
Okay, that was a bit too far, even for Erik. That was just sadistic. “No, you’re not. I’m gonna free this fluffy.” He said. He could hear the foal begging, wanting to be away from the ‘hoomin munsta’ that trapped him.
The teen glared at Erik. He wouldn’t be able to mess with the fluffy when he was around, but there was no way he was leaving with nothing. He quickly stomped his foot down, right on the cup. The thin plastic cup crumpled easily, the force also crushing the foal, leaving a bloody mess.
“No!” Erik crouched down, seeing the foal was beyond saving. “You sick little bastard!” He yelled after the teen, who was running off, cackling. He stayed there a few seconds longer before he left, his mood soured all over again. He went to the next hotspot for feral fluffies, but either the teen or other forces had given these fluffies a similar fate. All dead. Though these fluffies looked as though they’d been burned. Not professionally, as the exterminators rarely left traces behind. It was properly kids with a lighter or some homemade mini flamethrower. The likes of which were very illegal. Oh well. He couldn’t go vigilante mode on all these mindless teens. He was an adult, after all.
Erik headed home, fighting back tears. The little foal didn’t deserve to die…but he did because of some stupid abusive kid. Ugh…he needed to get home…it was almost time.