It’s been so long since I discussed fluffy trivia that I’m not too sure what I can tell you that you wouldn’t already know.
There’s not much that hasn’t been seen from fluffies, and yet they have a capacity that truly enables them to shock you. Whether that’s kind acts, cruelty, acts of apathy, joy or just general naivety and stupidity.
They can’t help it really, their OS they call a thought process is limited but that’s me being kind to them. I could also call them retarded but we know that too.
Maybe a fact for newcomers? Those who’ve taken more than a passing interest into the world of fluffies and taking care of them.
Did you know that fluffies have a heightened sense of smell and their nasal receptors are more sensitive than our own?
A very interesting fact, no?
Did you also know the gene they have that allows their sense of smell to be better than our own is shared with cats and dogs…
In fact the rabbit DNA is very prominent in fluffies (as is the rat gene but I don’t want to go there….you’ve seen their birth rate haven’t you?). It’s so prominent in fact that they can smell dead fluffies in faeces, similar to that of rabbits and their ability to smell family in predators’ faeces.
It caused a lot of tears…yes, somebody researched it……foals were involved….and a hungry dog….that had diarrhoea……
So, an advanced sense of smell you would think would be very useful. Make up for their shortsightedness and keep them away from danger and be aware of it right?
To animal, yes it would be useful
But this is fluffies we are talking about
And the advanced sense of smell is a curse
Fluffies love pretty smells, clean smells, sweet smells, all the pleasurable and good smells they love
But did you know that bad smells actually hurt fluffies’ noses?
No, I am not fucking with you……yes, someone tested it……the dude farted in a few fluffies’ noses……it made them cry and wail out……no, I didn’t do it……no, I don’t know the guy who tested it either……apparently they can smell the garlic in poop and think it’s Sketties……no that wasn’t anything to do with me…….
So yes, fluffies are that wimpy that bad smells hurt their noses. Most good trainers use this trick to keep them away from certain areas and to teach them to stay away….just spray some shitty spray (Axe…) on the area around somewhere and they steer clear of it.
If only more people knew this handy trick (but we’re all here on the internet so now you know too)
It’s also why they don’t like Poopie smells….Poopie smells actually hurt their noses (and not emotionally either. They genuinely can’t distinguish physical and emotional pain and it registers the same way to them…)
So…about those good smells and why they’re so enjoyable to a fluffy. Did you know that fluffies can’t distinguish between what tastes good and what smells good?
To them, pretty things that smell nice must be nummies and certain nummies are so nice as they smell so pretty.
They associate pretty smells with good things. Good things must be either toysies or nummies or babbehs.
And that’s a huge problem.
Especially when they attempt to swallow or intake things that smell “good” but aren’t good for them.
A lot of poisonings happen this way. Amateur Exterminators also know this, and know they can be taken out so easily and with little effort by using poisoned cupcakes (the crack cocaine of all fluffy treats. Not even Sketties is as addictive….)
Now going back to the sweet smell thing…and the association with nummies….did you also know that fluffies have a “sweet tooth”?
That they love all sweet things? Sweetie nummies are bestest nummies!! you’ll often hear.
And cupcakes (meant for humans that dumbass owners bought fluffies) are notoriously addictive to fluffies.
So addictive that it’s known to cause behavioural problems (and bad teeth). A fluffy addicted to cupcakes is very hard to break their habit without resorting to harsher methods. Imagine a smarty addicted to cupcakes….jfc actually don’t, you really don’t want to deal with that….
Now I mentioned before that cupcakes (specifically the human kind, fluffies have a very low sugar version that dumbasses think is the same) was crack cocaine for all fluffies……
There is something out there that’s even more potent
and thankfully, they don’t ship them here now. Thank you hate-boner-demic
Straight from Japan, there was a company (currently under corporate restructure) called “Fluffukuri Inc”
And they were known for making a living, edible, marshmallow-like (very) foal called “Marshmallow Foals” (imaginative? No…)
No I don’t know why they made a toy that you could eat as a sweet treat that was also alive either……it was a cute bio-sweet-toy that could chirp and out things like swugwee which I think means sweet….it was a fad I guess……
They were very popular in Japan. You could get them from vending machines. And then they ended up in the US.
Now these living-foal-treats (they’re not meat by the way, but a marshmallow like sweet tissue that couldn’t possibly be meat) were intended for humans to eat.
But their smell was irresistible to fluffies. Completely irresistible, the sweet smell sent off a trigger in their brain that practically eradicated any desire for sketties.
And soon, people actually started buying Marshmallow Foals as sweet treats for their fluffies. Who were all too delighted to eat these chirping little shi- I mean sweets that you could eat if you wanted.
It was a short and passing fad. Hate-boner-demic killed off trade. But there were many, many reports from owners who stated that it caused behaviour problems in fluffies.
Even if one had only been eaten. They were that addictive.
Why were they so addictive? To sustain them, Marshmallow Foals suckle on an ECL like fluid in their canister. It provides the vital nutrients to keep them alive, as well as soft and so they didn’t harden.
They even pooped out a sweet poop and if a regular fluffy were even to have a drop of that on their tongue, it was over. They were hooked.
Fluffies begged their owners for more.
More. More. More. More.
And their behaviours worsened and worsened.
Now at this point, you’d wonder why you would even persevere with this shit. It’s a fluffy that’s been broken, so you “turn it off” through whatever way you want to. Kick the fucking crackhead out. Why care?! Why put up with a fluffy that is going through cold turkey?
Would you believe it if I told you that some people want to be good and responsible owners and even want you to persevere with this bad behaviour (and didn’t know how to reprogram it……)
That they care enough that they would do anything to help treat their fluffy and help them get over it?
(And that it was their fault to begin with giving their fluffy a product which causes instant addiction and dealing with the consequences thereafter…)
And as such, treatments and punishments were created to help deal with Marshmallow Foal addicted fluffies (Hasbio being extremely quick with the cash in)
Even with punishments, it wasn’t always enough to break the habit. You could pillow an addicted fluffy, remove it of all its limbs and wingies, and the fluffy wouldn’t care. Some people were determined to beat the addiction out of them.
The fluffy would just really, really want to take another bite out of a marshmallow foal.
The Babbeh Nummies! as they would call it.
They would do anything for Babbeh Nummies! Be good for Daddeh! Be bad for Daddeh and get Babbeh Nummies! now!!
They were desperate. Vulnerable, even more easy to manipulate than they are.
Abusers who got their kicks from it took full advantage of this.
It was a gift that could keep on giving. No end of enjoyment from abject misery and suffering.
A fluffy could even turn on its own. Any sweet smell could potentially be the Babbeh Nummies! As they were often called after eating.
You can definitely see why it would become a problem. Especially around sweet smells
Not even Cannibal Fluffies are this desperate. And those things are ruthless, determined to eat their own kind (and thankfully dumb and that’s enough to take them out of the wider gene pool).
And there was no way any fluffy could behave until after severe behaviour treatment.
What was this severe behaviour treatment you say?!
A surprisingly simple, but effective thing that didn’t cost the earth (and left Hasbio seething)
Only the most repulsive thing a fluffy could eat by the spoonful.
A substance that is actually good for fluffies and foals alike and provides them with the appropriate nutrients to develop strong bones, skin health etc etc
They dread it.
It fills them with fear.
It’s not sweet.
It tastes even more No pretty than poopies and sour candy (another fluffy weakness, they dislike sour tastes and it hurts their little mouths)
They absolutely no like it (the ultimate hate that a fluffy can feel)
It is easily the most repulsive thing they could ever eat or have on their tongue.
It causes literal screaming fits from adult fluffies. Foals not so much but their taste buds aren’t as developed but it’s still yucky to eat (but easier to make them have it).
They’re also not as loud as adult fluffies.
In fact, a study confirmed that between eating Veggie Paste and Faeces, they chose Faeces every time and even smiled joyfully and were delighted when they were presented with many spoonfuls of scat after they had one teaspoon of Veggie Mush/paste/mite.
No, I didn’t conduct this study either….I’m just telling you shit…,
Fluffies will resist at first but remember this….
they’re fucking fluffies. They will do as we say
So, yes, you don’t have to beat the fuck out of your fluffy or torture it or cut off it’s limbs or genitals to beat it’s addiction to Marshmallow Foals (but I’m not your mom or your boss or wife or whatever, you do you.)
All they need to do is be told to have it, it’s enough to convince them.
Just a spoonful of the most repulsive stuff you can eat too. To break their addiction.
But you must do this every day, 3 times a day. Morning, afternoon, evening. For the rest of their short lives.
Lemon was one such “survivor” of Marshmallow Foal addiction.
It was a particularly difficult spell for him and his owner, Toby. Toby felt particularly bad that he was the one who got him hooked (unintentionally) onto it.
Toby learned a valuable lesson that day. Never listen to fucking 4chan. Ever. One of the dumbest things he could’ve done. Why did he listen to those assholes, those guys hate fluffies!!
But he was happy that he didn’t fall for the “feeding your fluffy shit with every meal” meme. What was that called again?! Cecotropic Diet?! He wasn’t that naive (maybe). Dr Shideeta? Come on….
But here he was now. Owner of a damaged fluffy that he didn’t hold any warranty of (no one does insurance for fluffies, for obvious reasons….) and being at fault for the damage done.
He loved Lemon. Lemon was a cute little foal from a can who always greeted his Daddeh with smiles, gave soft and good Huggies and made big fwaffy poopies in litterbox like a good and big fwaffy and not babbeh.
But the problems began when Lemon was weaning off milk. A problem for most fluffy owners it isn’t, it seems particularly pronounced in fluffies and foals that come from foal-in-a-can.
Usually a mare, or nursing fluffy, is present to help weaning onto solid foods and off milkies.
With very specific instructions from Daddeh to do it too.
How do they know when to wean foals off milkies? Nothing natural (maybe), it’s just that they can feel their foals’ teeth on the nips of their crotch tits
and those things are very sensitive
so sensitive that even foals’ tiny, barely formed teeth causes them discomfort
An interesting fact about fluffies (I’m full of them…) is that they can’t differentiate between tolerances of pain either. A slight graze, a minor burn, gunshot to the kneecap, immolation, paper cut and the wits thing imaginable, the sorry stick……all feel the same to them.
Pain is pain.
So because they don’t like the pain, they then know that Nummies are needed and not milkies no more. There’s no difference in domestic and feral fluffies with this and neither does it better than the other.
If anything, feral mares try and wean their babbehs sooner for reasons best described as scarce resources and wanting to have more new babbehs to replace the no-babbehs-nu-more that have grown into fwaffies(or the recently deceased ones….)
Now, Toby tried everything he could to wean Lemon off milkies onto solids. It cost him a lot but thankfully that redundancy money afforded him both the money to help him. And the patience.
Without that it would’ve meant Lemon possibly dying or developing malformed and Derpy from a lack of nutrients gained from food.
It truly was difficult for Lemon, who felt like a little babbeh, he just couldn’t eat whatever his Daddeh bought him.
All those nice nummies, and he couldn’t get away from milkies and be a big fwaffy and Nu-babbeh-nu-more.
And then Daddeh bought him nice nummies
And he played with him and had Huggies and Singh danceh.
And then when he got even closer, Lemon picked up his new friend’s scent
The scent was intoxicating. He had never smelled anything this pretty ever in his short, little babbeh life. The smell went up his nose and into his mouth and onto his little tongue and it made his gums and his teeth tingle.
His mouth became whet. And it was like he knew what to do all along.
He bit into his new friend and tore away a tiny chunk of his sweet “flesh”. And he took more bites. His tummy was so hurty. But he knew he wanted more and more and more.
Babbeh Nummies! He wanted them in his tummy.
And he ate and he ate and it was the best thing ever!
And at that moment, he was so happy that he made Daddeh happy!!
Daddeh was watching transfixed from the couch. His job search hadn’t gone well but this was too good to miss. He took a video of the whole thing on his phone.
It was such a macabre but bizarre thing to watch. And it felt kind of funny too.
To think foals are considered so weak and so brittle, and yet one of them overpowered something even weaker and ate it while it was begging him to stop.
He imagined what if the food in your head all of a sudden started to beg you to stop consuming it but you ignored it and bit into it anyway.
Now, Food Fluffies weren’t anything new. Toby remembered the whole “Garden Friends!” Fiasco with those talking plant vegetable fluffies but this somehow felt different and not creepy at all….
The Marshmallow Foal had a uniquely irritating voice that made you want to eat it all quickly and yet savour it’s screams as you bit into it and tore at its soft and yielding sweet “flesh”.
They’re not even alive so why feel bad about it?! It was hilarious in hindsight. It’s an imitation of life masquerading as a life form, kind of like how fluffies are the same thing.
(Yes, people are still eating their foal tendies even after Hate-Boner-Demic)
Lemon’s sweet tooth was active from a young age now. Marshmallow Foal was his new favourite food. Better than Sketties!! Better than everything else.
He promised Daddeh to be good so he could have more and more
And from the moment of his first bite, though Toby didn’t realise it, Lemon was spoiled. Nothing could ever beat having Marshmallow Foals to eat.
And he wanted more Babbeh Nummies!
Foals can be demanding and can learn how to be demanding. But no one takes them that serious until they’re more grown.
And their voices become more irritating as adults.
And the demand becomes far less tolerable than it ever was.
It didn’t matter what else Toby brought him. It was never good enough. He ate everything put in front of him.
But he wanted more.
Even filling him up, letting him eat all kinds of crap and Sketties. Lots and lots of Sketties!!’
It didn’t work. Lemon would crap it out and demand more babbeh nummies!
And his behaviours got worse. And the stress was more than enough for Toby. Who was also stressed at his new job and didn’t have to tolerate a demanding shitrat giving him shit and being ungrateful.
That sort of stress Toby took out on Lemon.
The sorry stick was frequently used. Often harder than recommended. Lemon would always beg for him to stop. And he would.
And then the behaviour would begin again. Lemon would on occasion spit out all of his food and fire his shit and spread it to get Daddeh to go out and bring back Babbeh Nummies!
And it was too much.
Toby would often leave Lemon wailing in the Dark in the sorry box. Lemon begging to be let out, filling his box with even more stinky diarrhea. And he would always promise to be a good fluffy.
Some people told him to cut off a limb. Or two. Or all four. And if that was too much, to break the button in the back of Lemon’s neck to switch him off the humane way.
He never had the stomach for pillowing. Toby thought that was kind of cruel to even do that to a fluffy.
The sorry box seemed to be the best thing to do. An easy punishment for all owners; restricted movement, completely confined in the box and surrounded in darkness.
Fluffies fear the dark. They don’t know what’s in it waiting to get them.
And from the sorry box there was often a wail. A loud wailing that he had learned his lesson. No more Marshmallow Foals.
Until the next time.
And the same thing and routine would play out over and over
The truth is, Toby eventually became too tired after work to even want to hit Toby with the sorry stick.
The sorry box was fine. Lemon would go in it if he refused a meal or demanded yet another fucking Babbeh Nummies!
And it became every night after he finished.
Toby once even left Lemon in the box all day and never let him out until the next night.
Lemon came out shivering and asking his Daddeh for huggies. Toby gave his crying fluffy a good Huggies and dried his tears.
He didn’t even feel guilty about it. He was shocked that he only decided to deal with it because the box was shat up and leaking and stinking the place out.
Toby knew that Lemon would act up again.
He began to wonder why he was even doing this. He knew he was wrong or at least ignorant to give him those fucking Babbeh Nummies in the first place. Why was he still keeping this up after all this time?
The new sorry box was placed in another room. To deal with the wailing, Toby just turned the TV volume.
And he saw less of Lemon than he used to. How he missed that sweet little foal.
The foal that knew how to behave and make Daddeh happy.
He’s gone now, and a shitrat stuck in a box is all that’s left of him.
He had nothing in him to hit him when Lemon always acted up
And the last time he hit him, it was hard enough to break a brittle wing on Lemon’s back. Toby had to pluck it off which led to even more screaming.
Alcohol rubbed in, a plaster put over. Bandaged. And back in the sorry box you go.
The sorry box was practically his home now.
The wailing could be too much. Sometimes he’d even be woken up randomly by it.
He began to wonder where there any times that Lemon was actually good.
He checked his phone photos to remind himself to that Lemon was indeed a good fluffy. And not even just as a foal. He’d taken him to the park, he’d taken him walkie. There was even a video of Lemon being confounded by something on TV. The fluffy was astonished by something he saw.
Toby even heard himself laughing with delight.
He noticed that in a lot of pictures that he was always stroking the back of Lemon’s neck. Or his hand was over it.
And then he remembered, the fluffy off button being situated in the neck bone.
The amount of times he’d felt the back of Lemon’s neck. Feeling the callus and rubbing it. Tempted to push it in……he resisted that for so long….
And Toby put his phone down and felt awful that he even considered it. There had to be something out there to help Lemon.
Thank god he found out about the veggie mush treatment.
It was by chance he found out online too. The internet could occasionally be a good source of reliable information after all. He was close to the end of his tether, and this was the light that he needed. He felt better knowing it was good for Lemon too. An actual treatment instead of torture.
Lemon’s expression towards Toby had never changed. He still looked at his Daddeh with love and that he was the best thing ever.
Except when he needed to feed. He only gave a look of petulance, cheeks huffed out. As if he hated Daddeh after all.
And he would go back in the box like he always would.
And that he would become just like that sweet little foal he got from the can. Doing anything to make his Daddeh happy.
It was difficult and there was a lot of wailing and vomit and shit.
But the treatment was working. And Toby was shocked by this. It was just so dumbly simple that it seemed like it wouldn’t ever work.
Lemon would have to have his doses 3 times a day. 4 if he was being a fucker for refusing to. A spoonful of veggie mush each time.
Poor little bastard. Not even Toby would touch that slop.
Apparently it deadened or coated the tongue or something, so that their taste buds didn’t work or were numb or something. Basically the bad taste of the veggie mush would mask the sweet buds and the sweet tooth, thus treating the addiction and ending desire to eat Babbeh Nummies.
it seemed too dumb to be true
And then Toby realised, of course all logic is fucked when it comes to fluffies, what is too dumb for humans actually works on fluffies.
And Toby stuck with the “treatment”. The spoonful of veggie mush would be met with shrill resistance. Lemon knew it tasted like complete shit.
(Toby had even heard fluffies would choose actual shit over this….)
And then Toby realised that if he told Lemon that what was on the spoon wasn’t actually veggie mush, but actually delicious and super nice Nummies, that there was no resistance at all.
Even with the spoon, even with the same slop, the same routine, the same thing told to Lemon. It worked over and over again.
Fluffies truly are that dumb, gullible and naive to believe it.
It became routine like the sorry box was before it.
Each time Lemon had the spoonful, his Daddeh would tell him he is getting better and better and becoming a good little fluffy again.
The joy it sparked in Lemon’s eyes to hear that he was such a good little fluffy for Daddeh. His tail slowly wagged, stiff from a previous injury from the sorry stick. Daddeh had to give him the sorry stick hard the night it happened.
Toby couldn’t even remember inflicting him with the injury.
And then he looked over Lemon’s body. And realised the extent of his own handiwork.
A missing wing, and a crooked one. A tail that wagged limply and slowly, and yey seemingly stiff when felt. Multiple barely formed calluses and tendered layers of skin. Fluffy scar tissue is known to heal slowly and harden, scar tissue and calluses can feel like fleshy pulses. His hind and legs shown a lot of the brunt of the sorry stick.
Only the glaze over Lemon’s eyes which seemed to dim them, and the state of his teeth were the only things that Toby hadn’t inflicted on Lemon. He began to wonder what was even in that shit to begin with.
He had done all of that to him.
And it had been over a span of 6 months. Lemon wasn’t even a year old and looked older than that just from the sheer number of scrapes and injuries that he carried. Only the oldest fluffies had the most scars, a good indicator of age.
He then stroked Lemon on the head to which he giggled and laughed and looked up happily. Lemon told him he loved headpats from Daddeh as they were bestest headpats.
Over the week, Toby had found that Lemon couldn’t settle to sleep at night without being put in the sorry box.
The space that he had to sleep with outside the box made him restless, he had gotten very used to sleeping in the confined box.
And Toby felt a pang of guilt over it. No fluffy should have to be treated like this. They weren’t animals but they were meant to be cared for and treated with tender love and care. They only ever looked at humans with love in their eyes
He placed Lemon in the box but kept the lid open. The night was also used for the first time in months. An assurance for Lemon that no bad things in the dark would get him.
And he slept soundly that night. As all fluffies should.
And soon it became an established routine. Daddeh would get Lemon from the box. Give him nu-pwetty Nummies. Let him play. Come back home and have more nu-pwetty Nummies and kibble (with Sketties on Thursday) and then TeeBee and watch the little fluffies play and sing and love each other and huggies and then one last nu-pwetty Nummies and then back in the sorry box to go sleep.
Routines are very good for fluffies. They are unable to mentally deal with that chaos that is life. They are far happier being cared for. They are assured of their safety and that there is a Daddeh that loves them very much and they can be good little fluffies.
Lemon loved his routine. He loved that he was finally being a good fluffy for Daddeh.
He loved his Daddeh very much.
And Toby loved his little Lemon too.
All that toil and trouble was worth it. As an owner he felt that he had accomplished something that most others wouldn’t even have put up with and would’ve given in at the first handle.
He persevered and had come through the most difficult thing that a fluffy could face. A bizarre problem you would never expect to be inflicted upon fluffies.
A more human problem than anything.
And Lemon held no ill-will to Daddeh. He loved Daddeh so much (as all good little fluffies will always love their Daddehs. Like they’re meant to)
He laughed that maybe with his perseverance, maybe he could break the bad smarty cycle some smarties go through. He felt like he could beat that too. With any fluffy.
Unfortunately as these things are, there is another interesting thing about fluffies that most everyone already knows.
They will always, inevitably, disappoint you.
It came to a particular week in which Toby’s working hours had changed. It was particularly important that he did those hours, he’d never see the sort of money it would bring for a while.
More money means he could actually do more shit. He’d even buy Lemon some new toys. He’d been so good under the routine. But at a cost. Longer hours. Less time at home to manage Lemon, it would become harder to manage him if he couldn’t adhere to the routine. If the routine was broken, Lemon would run risk of falling into a relapse.
He had put too much into Lemon to risk him falling back. So he decided to place him in a fluffy nursery during work hours.
He made a particular point that Lemon had a routine that had to be followed. He didn’t want it to be broken so he was trusting them to manage him when he couldn’t.
The receptionist smiled and told him of course they would take care of Lemon. Toby passed the glass jar of the veggie mush to the girl. And gave her instructions.
The expression on her face was something akin to “why the fuck is he giving me this shit? What kind of medicine is this?”
Toby didn’t immediately pick up on her nonplussed expression. He left feeling far less apprehensive than he had been. They were an experienced fluffy care centre, of course they would know what they’re doing. They must have cases like this all the time.
He gave Lemon a hug before he left and passed his lead over to one of the attendants.
“Wub oo daddeh”, he called out before Toby left. And with that, Toby felt more assured. He was in good hands. He could hear the giggles and cheers and singing of the other fluffies. It must be maddening to work here having to hear it but it sounded exactly like what Lemon needed. Playing games with his own kind, having a good time just being a fluffy.
It occurred to Toby that he never let Lemon socialise or play with other fluffies beyond what he did with the Marshmallow Foals.
Of whom he ate as part of his play.
And then he began to feel apprehensive,
And nervous about it
And he didn’t feel like he could settle at work
He had all the work to do and the hours to get through
Just shut up, stop fucking thinking and just do your job
He’s going to be okay
Would Lemon be a good little fluffy and stay out of trouble? Would he be able to play normal games with the others?
Surely this was completely normal. He had his medicine to take and he-
His mobile began to ring.
And it was the receptionist from the centre on the phone. And she was nowhere near as pleasant as she was when he dropped off Lemon.
He greeted her but she interrupted him. She sounded completely pissed.
She accused him of knowingly bringing a cannibal fluffy into their safe nursery environment. Of all fucking things, you put them in a cage or better yet euthanise them away from other fluffies. They’re rare and shouldn’t be kept with other fluffies
She accused Toby of passing one of those cannibal fluffy over to her, knowing that she could get fucking fired for processing it to be cared for
Toby enquired what the fuck she was talking about
She repeated what she said
He asked what the fuck actually happened. They Lemon wasn’t a cannibal, he was-
She interrupted and continued. Lemon had become more and more agitated despite playing nicely with all the other little fluffies. Who were good and not fucking cannibals
Toby reminded her Lemon was no cannibal. She told him to shut the fuck up
Lemon then became agitated to the point that he started playing with a Mare and her foals. Toby asked why the fluffies weren’t separated based on sex and she told him to keep his mouth shut and that Toby had no bollocks and that there was little to no chance he was fucking anything and making more shitrats
Toby was becoming more agitated with her tone and asked her what the fuck she meant by Lemon being a cannibal. He mentioned that he had a problem with those marshmallow foals and wanting to eat them all the time and it was at this point that she asked what the fuck he was talking about.
The conversation descended further and she told him to get his ass back to centre as she had to call the owner of the mare and her foals.
What’s left of them that is.
And Toby put two and two together and had a rough idea of what happened despite the rude bitch on the phone being unhelpful.
Lemon must have attacked one of the foals.
Cannibal fluffies are rare and wouldn’t ever make it into the foal-in-a-can range. They go through enough processing to weed out defects like that to begin with.
There’s no way that Lemon could be one. Though that’s too late now.
His thought process was blinded with rage and fume in equal measure.
His anger soon began to focus on Lemon.
Despite any excuse, it was all on him.
He arrived back at the centre and was blanked by the receptionist, who was talking with another woman who was glancing over, he was instead greeted by another attendant. An older woman but with a different coloured apron. Maybe it noted authority or whatever, who knew?
Toby wanted to know what the actual fuck had gone on.
And the attendant told him.
Lemon had actually been playing nicely with the other fluffies. He had his nummies at the time he was meant to and made good poopies like he should have
Toby asked her to get to the point
She glared at him icily, but continued. After his feeding time, Lemon was becoming more agitated and more stressed. He’d never played with so many fluffies ever and was having a good time. But his loudness compared to the other fluffies meant that he needed to calm down. So he was placed in the quiet group and then began to ask for nummies. He got told no and it was just play time and-
Go on, Toby inquired. He could feel the receptionist pointing at him and talking about him and he was feeling more agitated too.
So to cut it short, he kept asking for nummies and we said no. Then he asked for more nummies and nummies that Daddeh give and we said you weren’t here and that he’s not getting any. He begins to cry but we give him a few light taps of the sorry stick which straightens him out and he goes to play. And then he begins to play the mummeh and Daddeh game with a mare and her young babbehs-
Toby puts his head in his hand. He knows what’s going to be told to him next-
So we let him play with the mare. He hasn’t got any balls on him so we’re not worried he’s going to enf her and make more babbehs for the owner to worry about. So, your little bastard, he lifts up a babbeh and they’re all singing and the mare looks happy and then….and then your shitrat bites the babbehs fucking head off-
Toby let out a sigh-
So he bites off it’s head and eats the babbeh and the mare screams and next thing, he eats another one of her shitrat babbehs and she’s screaming for us to make us make your sick shitrat stop eating her tiny babbehs and-
Toby then asks her how many he ate
Just the two. He was slow as fuck for the other babbehs who ran away and hid from your goddamn monster. Why the fuck did you-
And then Toby asked them if Lemon got his veggie mush “medicine”……and that he has to have it at a certain time. He did his research on the treatment and-
The attendant asked him what the fuck he was talking about-
And after an hour of straightening shit out at the centre (where he is now banned for life, not allowed to bring a fluffy near there and had to pay a fine for both abusing staff and compensation to the owner of the two foals and traumatised mare) he drove him in silence, seething.
Of course the fucking centre wouldn’t blame themselves for this shit
They blamed him and Lemon
Though in the end, it was all on fucking Lemon.
The fluffy was in the back. The attendants had also used the sorry stick on him. Harshly. Red streaks ran across his rear end. His ass had swollen up and he was complaining about his poopy place being sore
Toby turned up the radio and told him to shut the fuck up, screaming it loudly at him. The fluffy burst into tears and huuued away.
This fucking thing ate two foals. Two. Unprovoked. And it had cost him what money he would get extra this month and eat into his bills.
Worst of all, Toby felt like the attendants had him worked out as some kind of tard.
The effort he put into rehabilitating Lemon. Wasted.
A complete waste of fucking time. It was like they were laughing at him for going through with it. Most everyone just got a new fluffy when they went through that irritating addiction phase. They even offered to euthanise Lemon at the centre for him.
He told them to fuck off and he wasn’t coming back anyway. They told him he was barred and couldn’t anyway.
Once they were home, Toby made no attempt at interactions with Lemon.
He had fucked up and it felt like the last straw.
Lemon meekly asked for nummies.
Maybe babbeh nummies?
Toby tutted his disgust.
He didn’t even attempt to hide it from the fluffy. Lemon looked down mournfully and cried. In a mournful voice he cried out why didn’t Daddeh love him no more. Toby threw a spoon at him. It hit Toby on the head. It hurt a lot but he couldn’t look Daddeh in the eye.
He had never seen him so angry and scary before. He knew what Daddeh did to make him a good fluffy but he seen Daddeh like this and it scared him so much.
Lemon made wiesies on the floor and sat in the puddle forlorn. His mouth still had bits of foal blood around it as did flecks of blood speckle across his yellow body.
Toby looked down and tutted. Yet another goddamn mess to clean up.
Toby was reaching for another spoon in the draw to get out to give Lemon his slop……and then he wondered whether doing it was actually a waste of time
Everything he had done for Lemon, such a fucking waste.
Toby found the sorry box. It still stunk of shit and piss despite cleaning it out last time.
Whereas before he was completely fine and could tolerate Lemon and his mishaps and his problem. He used to say, he’s not like other fluffies….
Toby was wrong
Lemon really is just like any other shitrat.
All of them.
Toby set the box down and picked Lemon up and placed him in it. Toby kneeled down to prepare the box to be closed. He could hear Lemon trying to talk but too afraid to look up.
“Cn……cn……Wemun pwee….pwee……hab….b-b-babbeh….n-nummies….Wemun am….a-a-sowwy am-“
The box was closed and Toby moved it outside. He wasn’t sure if he was going to bring him back in.
He felt perfectly fine if he didn’t bother with Lemon again.