Cheap and Cheerful, Part 2 (By TheWarmGun)

Your name is Travis. Yesterday, you brought home a micro fluffy from the store. The little guy, who you named “Ace,” was just what you wanted.

For a few hours, at least. Once your new little pet got hungry again, things started to sour.

“Daddeh, fwuffy am hungwy. Daddeh gib moa nummies tu Ace?”

“You have kibble in your dish.” Ace sniffed the dish suspiciously, his tiny nose wrinkling.

“Nu wan dese nummies, wan sketties. Daddeh gib tu Ace.”

“You need to eat your kibble.”

“Nuuuu! Ace am mummahs bestest babbeh, Ace nee tastiest nummies. Bestest nummies fo bestest fwuffy!” He pouted, stamping his foot to punctuate his little rant. Oh, fun. You’ve read that fluffies can get spoiled fairly easily, but you weren’t expecting anything this soon.

“I guess you aren’t eating tonight, then.” You scoop up his food bowl and fasten the lid on the cage. You bring it over to the closet and place it inside. With the door closed, the cage will be in total darkness.

“Nuuuu! Daddeh pwese gib wight! Ace am scawed ob dawkies!” You can hear him crying in the closet. What a little baby.

“SHUT UP! Bad fluffies have to sleep in the dark! Maybe that will teach you to demand things.” You aren’t worried. It will do the willful little turd some good to be locked in the dark to think about what he did. You put in your headphones and turn on your Playstation. Before your game boots up, you can here the little guy in the closet.

“Huuu huuu huuu. Ace am scawed! Dawk nu huwt Ace pwese?”

Your name is Ace, you are a pretty blue micro fluffy. Your mommy always loved you the best. You got first drink of her delicious milk, and prime position on her fluff while you slept.

But then, a mean lady took you away from your mommy! You were sad, but at least there were other fluffies in the dark box she put you in.

Eventually, you arrived at a bright place again. There was lots of room, and even toys! You missed your mommy, but the toys and the other fluffies made you feel better.

Sometimes, the other fluffies didn’t understand that you were the best fluffy. How could they think that they were the best fluffy? They weren’t very pretty at all, with plain fluff. Not like your shiny blue fluff and pretty white tail. Sometimes, they tried to take your toys, but you made sure they understood the situation. By using your hoofs to smack them until they understood.

Now, you got a new daddy! Mommy always told you that since you were her best baby, you would get a new daddy or mommy, and then you would have all the love and spaghetti that you wanted. You weren’t sure what spaghetti was, but you knew it sounded tasty, and obviously such a good baby deserved the tastiest foods.

Your new daddy didn’t give you spaghetti, but he did give you crunchy cheese treats. They were very tasty, and you loved the feeling of curling up in your new daddy’s lap.

Later, you were hungry again from all the playing and hugging. You told your daddy, and he told you to eat the kibble in your dish. Silly daddy, kibble was only for ugly babies. You needed spaghetti. You corrected him so nicely, but he still wouldn’t give it to you.

Your new daddy got mad, but you didn’t understand: you were simply asking for the tasty food you deserved! He said mean things to you, and then he put you in the dark. You didn’t like the dark, and you cried a lot before you fell asleep, your tummy growling without any spaghetti in it.

This was so unfair.

The next morning comes without further incident. You decide to deal with your little stinker after you’ve had some coffee and breakfast. You did some reading after locking him up last night. You had never heard of a ‘best baby’ when Ace used the term, but now you know everything you need to know. Every mother has their favorite child, but fluffies-especially feral fluffies-have a tendency to go overboard. This can lead to spoiled foals, in the case of domestics, and starving litter-mates if the mare is feral. Regardless, your little pet seems to have the ‘best baby’ attitude in spades. You’re sure that being the most colorful foal in his micro pen hasn’t done any favors for the little guy’s ego. You bet you can fix that, though.

When you open the closet, Ace is asleep, buried face-first in his blanket.

“Wake up, Ace.” The tiny fluffy stirs groggily. His fur is ruffled and from the disarray in his cage, you can tell he went wild last night, and has definitely been crying.

“Huuu huu. Daddeh, pwese. Ace can pwese hab nummies? Ace tummy huwt suuu bad, nu can sweep gud.” His tummy growls audibly as he speaks. Maybe that’s all it takes, you think to yourself.

“You can have kibble if you are a good boy. Are you going to be good?” There is an involuntary nose wriggle at the word ‘kibble’.

“Buhh, why daddeh nu gib Ace tasty skettis ow cheezy nummies? Ace wub daddeh.” Really, you little shit?

“ACE. You can have kibble, or you can have nothing to eat…and get the sorry stick.” The tiny blue fluffies eyes go wide.

“Nuuuuuu! Why nu gib Ace bestest nummies! Daddeh nu wub Ace?” Ace’s chin quivers and the most pathetic little tears ever roll down his fuzzy blue cheeks. Your sorry stick was on your desk, where you left it in preparation.

“You ungrateful little shit. I guess you want the sorry stick.” Ace tries to run, but obviously your hand is faster. You snag one of his back legs as it skids against the tabletop.

“Nuuuuu! Nuu wan meanie uppsiess!” He screeches as you lift him over to your desk. Pinching him by the scruff of his mane, you pin him to the desktop and grab your sorry stick with your other hand, bringing the pathetic little stick down hard on his tiny little rump. Unsurprisingly, he squeals like a stuck pig

“Huuuu huuu huuuu! Owwwiess! Nuuuu daddeh, nuuu huwt Ace!” His cries fall on deaf ears. The plastic stick strikes his haunches, raising a welt plainly visible through his blue fur. As you continue, the fluffy pisses himself, and you hit him some more for getting your desktop dirty.

Eventually-many strikes later- you set down your sorry stick, your rage having subsided. The tiny colt is a mess of red welts, tears, snot and piss.

“Huuu huu, why huwt bestest babbeh?” He sobs as you rinse his filth off in the sink. Really?

“But Ace, you aren’t the bestest fluffy. You’re a bad fluffy. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have to hurt you, would I?” See what he makes of that, you think to yourself.

“Dummeh daddeh, Ace knu he am bestest babbeh! Meanie daddeh gib Ace bestest nummies naow!” Well, you have to sort of admire his consistency. As an answer to his request, you squirt him in the face with water from the faucet. In the recycling bin, you find an empty mini-can of Pringles, and hatch an idea.

Leaving the sobbing fluffy in the sink, you take a knife and poke several holes in the plastic lid of the can. This should do nicely, you think.

“Nu wike, nu wike!” Ace complains as you towel him off roughly with a cheap paper towel. Then, the surly colt goes ass-first into the pringles can, and you snap the now-ventilated lid back on tightly. Wouldn’t want the little shit to suffocate! You place the can in the cupboard under your sink, and shut the door.

Oh shit, you’ve gotta get ready for work!

You can hear the little sucker crying as you leave. Maybe he will act right when you get home tonight.


I had a feeling of how this was going to go when he said “bestest babbeh!” with such confidence.




Can’t really make heads or tails of Travis here.

He instantly went into “insulting and punishment” mode, which, as fair as it is when dealing with bratty fluffies, makes me wary.

He didn’t even try to understand, much less talk with Ace about his issues.

Was he looking for a pet, or an easy stress relief?



Well, I’ll be honest in that this is my attempt at making an abuse/sadbox series, in contrast to my typically neutralbox writing.

Travis is an…okay…person overall, but like a lot of frustrated young men, he feels rather impotent about the people and forces who have wronged him. I think that this, combined with the status of fluffies in this headcannon of mine, causes him to subconsciously see fluffies as an ‘acceptable target’ for anger and retribution. There certainly won’t be any repercussions for his actions.

Travis (like my other protagonists) has a bit of me in him. In Travis, I revisit a time when I was significantly younger, and had less control over my anxiety and depression. I also hadn’t really achieved anything in life, and most of my attempts had been disappointing. In that state, it is perhaps easier to see how the irritation of an uppity little fuzzball can flash into anger and violence.

I also think that having grown up in the time of fluffies, Travis is less likely to see them as anything special, and might even have a negative view of them, depending on his experiences and upbringing.

Anybody can be lonely and crave affection, but if that affection comes with strings attached, we can quickly come to resent it.

Obviously, most of this isn’t particularly healthy behavior, but the point of fiction is to explore things, and if we stick exactly to the limits of real life, it quickly becomes boring.


Hehe. Fluffies aren’t terribly subtle, IMO.


Bestest deserves the best punishment.

1 Like

Well thats what you get when dealing and buying a bestesh foal, worst shit of them all, as these are spoiled rotten

His mother’s life and her shitty teachin is to blame on all these.

Well gud luck ace your spoiled self will be the end of you.