Louisa - Part Two (by Jim Profit)

Part One

“Here are your sketties!” daddy said cheerfully, setting a bowl of warm sketties in front of Louisa’s nest. She sniffled and blinked away a few tears, then waddled out of her blankets and took a bite of the warm sketties. She chewed, paused, then hesitantly swallowed them. Instead of taking another bite she cocked her head, then coughed a little. The taste wasn’t right. These weren’t her normal sketties.

“Daddeh,” she said sternly. “Dese nu am wight sketties. Dese am dummeh sketties fo dummeh fwuffies.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, sounding a little annoyed.

“Daddeh, dese am wong sketties. Wouisa awways haf bestest Skettiwand sketties, buh dese nu am Skettiwand sketties. Nu taste su pwetty. Nu wight. Whewe am Skettiwand sketties?”

“Sweetie, I’ve always given you these sketties. I can’t afford to feed you Skettiland sketties for every meal!” He laughed, shaking his head. “Do you know how much that would cost? Most daddies give their fluffies sketties every once in a while, not for every meal. You’re lucky you get them for every meal, so…”


“Excuse me?” he asked, his voice lowering, growing colder. “Did you just call me a LIAR, Louisa?”

“Fwuffy nu mean…uhhhh, daddeh, nuuuuuu,” she cried out, sensing that everything was starting to spiral out of control. She knew she could only insult her daddy so much before he’d get really mad at her. She had to work on him slowly, break him over time. If she was too mean to him a lot in too short of a time frame then all of her work would be undone. He’d stop spoiling her. He’d enforce his rules. She might even get the sorry stick a lot! Or the sorry box!

“It sounded like you were calling me a liar. That’s what you said.”

“Nu, daddeh, fwuffy nu mean…uhhhh, Wouisa wuv daddeh. Wuv sketties. Buh dese jus am wong sketties, am aww. Wouisa nu mean tu caww daddeh wiaw. Jus wan wight sketties.”

“That’s better. But these are the sketties you normally get. You always talk about how they’re going to make the bestest milk for your bestest babies, and that’s why I spend so much money buying them for you all the time.”

“Daddeh say haf sketties fwom udah fwuffy? Wouisa see sketties! Wots a sketties! Daddeh haf su many sketties!”

“Oh, I wish! In fact, I’ve only got a couple of cans left. I’ll have to go to the store today.”

Louisa was annoyed, angry, worried, and terrified all at once. She remembered seeing all the cans of sketties when she first got to her daddy’s housie. There were SO MANY cans, and it looked like they’d last forever! It hadn’t been forever yet! She wasn’t very good at counting and doing math, but she KNEW that there was NO WAY the sketties had run out that fast. Plus she KNEW they were Skettiland sketties. Her daddy had mentioned them by name. They’d tasted way better than these sketties. Not that these sketties were bad; any sketties at all were better than no sketties. But these just weren’t as good, the flavor wasn’t as rich. Looking closer, she could tell that there weren’t as many little pieces of meat in these sketties. The good sketties had a LOT more little meatballs in them. These sketties only had two or three! NOT ENOUGH!

But aside from being mad, she was worried. Scared. This was the second thing that she thought was true, but that her daddy was swearing WASN’T true. Was she really remembering things wrong? Was she making them up in her head to be happier? They were all things she’d wanted when she lived with her old daddy. What if she WAS just imagining them? What if they weren’t real at all, and she was going crazy? It was confusing. What could she believe? What SHOULD she believe?

“Su daddeh say…gud sketties nu am weaw?”

“I mean, they’re real, they exist. I just can’t afford them except as a treat every now and then. I really want you to be happy, Louisa. I’m sorry if I haven’t been a very good daddy so far. I know you want the best, and you deserve the best for you and your babies. I’ll tell you what - I’ll grab a couple of cans of Skettiland sketties when I go buy you a stuffy friend, okay?”

“O…otay, daddeh. Daddeh gif teddy beaw stuffy fwiend to Wouisa?”

“Of course. I’ll buy you a teddy bear.”

“Fank you, daddeh. Wouisa num dem dummeh sketties nao, fo make daddeh happeh.” She wasn’t doing it to make him happy; she was starving, and her babies needed food as soon as possible. If this was all she was going to get then she’d eat it. Her daddy’s happiness didn’t really matter, but she knew from experience that pretending she wanted him to be happy, well, it’d go a long way toward helping her always get her way.

“I really wish you wouldn’t call them dummy sketties,” daddy sighed. “They can’t be that bad.”

“Sowwy, daddeh, buh am dummeh sketties.”

“Well, fine. But just a COUPLE of cans of Skettiland sketties, okay?”

“Otay, daddeh. Wouisa nee bestest sketties fo bestest tummeh babbehs. Buh dummeh sketties am otay fo nao.”

“Good, good.” He stood there and watched her eat, and sighed a deep, loud sigh.

Daddy looked like he felt guilty; it was a look that Louisa knew well. Her old daddy had constantly talked about how guilty he felt for not being the bestest daddy that she deserved. Whenever he couldn’t get her the bestest toys, the bestest food, or the bestest bed, he said he felt so sad and guilty. If she could make this daddy feel guilty all the time, too, then she’d be able to get away with ANYTHING!

“Nu be saddies, daddeh,” she muttered through a mouthful of disappointing sketties. “Am otay if daddeh nu haf bestest fings fo bestest fwuffy.”

He sighed again. “I’m going to go take a shower and go to the store, okay, sweetie? I’ll be back later. Have fun playing with your toys, and we’ll watch lots of FluffTV when I get back.”

“Otay, daddeh, wha evah daddeh say.” She started to eat again, then caught herself. “Uhhhh, wuv daddeh.” She had to make him think she loved him, even if she didn’t. She knew it was important.

“I love you too, Louisa. I’ll be back soon.”

The safe room door closed and Louisa resumed slowly eating her bargain brand canned sketties, hoping that things would get better soon. Hoping that things would start making sense soon. Hoping that she wasn’t actually losing her mind.


“Oh no, Carmen. Seriously? You took a dump on the floor again?”

“Cawmen make poopies whewe Cawmen make poopies, daddeh. Daddeh gon cwean dem poopies nu mattah whewe Cawmen make dem.”

“Couldn’t you at least TRY to go in your litterbox, Carmen?”

“Daddeh knu dat Cawmen twy, buh poopie pwace nu awways wisten tu Cawmen. Daddeh knu dat. Poopie pwace am meanie!”

“Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sure you try your best. I can’t imagine how hard it is, having your body not do what you tell it to do. I’m sorry.”

“Am otay. Cawmen take dem sowwies fwom daddeh an fowgif daddeh fow usin shoutie wowds.”

“I didn’t raise my voice THAT much, Carmen. I didn’t really YELL at…”

“Daddeh doin it gain! Daddeh usin shoutie wowds! Su scawy! Huu huuu huuuuuuu!” She shoved her snout between her front legs and started crying. She could make herself cry over anything now, over the littlest things. Or she could make herself cry over nothing. Her daddy HATED it when she cried. It made him feel bad, and he’d do anything to make her stop. Anything at all. Whatever she wanted, no matter how disgusting or demoralizing it was. As long as it made her stop crying, he’d do it.

It didn’t always get her EVERYTHING she wanted. Daddy said that he didn’t have enough “munies” to get her some things, like the bestest sketties and the bestest toysies. But she’d managed to convince him that her poopie place was broken, and that her body would just suddenly make poopies or peepees without her having any control over it happening. She rarely went in the litterbox now. It was more fun to go on the safe room floor so she could watch her daddy clean up the poopies and the peepees. When he felt REALLY guilty he’d let her out to wander around the house, and she’d make poopies and peepees all over the place. Her favorite place to go was on the soft, fluffy carpet in her daddy’s bedroom. She wanted to do it in his bed, but she hadn’t found a way up there yet. She would, though. One day. It was only a matter of time.

“I’m sorry, Carmen,” he said, his voice a little more quiet. “I’ll clean this up. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“Am otay, daddeh,” she sniffled. “Cawmen knu daddeh am twyin, mebbe soon daddeh wiww be bestest daddeh. Buh daddeh am otay daddeh nao. Cawmen wuv daddeh.”

“I’m just an okay daddy? I try so hard to be a good daddy for you, Carmen.”

“Cawmen knu, an daddeh am doin gud job wif twyin! Daddeh jus need gif bestest sketties aww da time, an gif bestest toysies. An Cawmen nee bettah nestie, tu. Den daddeh be weawwy gud daddeh.”

“You know I can’t buy you everything, Carmen. We’ve been through this. I do what I can.”

“An dat enuf tu make daddeh an otay daddeh. Mebbe gud daddeh summa dem times. Buh aww dem udah fings, daddeh nee du dem tu be bestest daddeh. Dat am how it am.”

He sighed. “I’ll try to save a little money to get you some more toys, okay? Maybe a couple of cans of the really good spaghetti next week. I already get you the best kibble, and that costs SO much. I want you to have the best. I just…I can’t afford it all.”

Carmen waddled over to him and nuzzled his hand. “Am weawwy otay, daddeh. Cawmen stiww wike daddeh.”

“Like? You don’t love me?”

“Wuv, wuv, Cawmen mean wuv, siwwy dummeh daddeh.” She giggled, but cursed herself silent for forgetting to say she LOVED him.

“I really don’t like when you call me a dummy daddy, Carmen.”

She nuzzled his hand again and cooed, then looked up at him, her eyes full of confusion. “Buh daddeh am dummeh daddeh.”

“I’m not a dummy.”

“Daddeh AM dummeh. Daddeh nu gif Cawmen bestest fings, nu wet Cawmen haf babbehs, nu gif Cawmen bestest tweats. Aww dem dummeh fings dat daddeh du. Dummeh. Dummeh daddeh.”

“I can’t AFFORD for you to have babies, Carmen! We’ve been through this!”

She backed away from him, gasping. “Daddeh usin woud, meanie wowds gain!” She backed up into her nest, tears spilling from her eyes.

“Oh, god. I’m sorry. Look, you can’t have babies, okay? I just can’t let you have babies. I can’t feed that many fluffies.”

“Dummeh daddeh nu knu nuffin bout nu babbehs! Dummeh, dummeh daddeh. Babbehs dwink miwkies, nu num nummies. Daddeh gif nummies tu Cawmen, Cawmen gif babbehs miwkies. Nu nee mo nummies!”

“Yeah? What happens when they all grow up and stop drinking milk?”

“Den daddeh jus get mowe nummies, buh not tiww den. Dis nu am dat hawd, daddeh.”

Her daddy sighed again. “We’re never going to agree on this. You just don’t understand.”

“Cawmen nu da dummeh, daddeh. Daddeh am da dummeh. No caww Cawmen da dummeh!” Her voice was strong and defiant. And, as always, it made her daddy back down.

“We’ll talk about it later. Please stop crying. I’m sorry.”

“Otay, daddeh. Cawmen fowgif daddeh. Buh daddeh?”

“Yes, Carmen?”

“Daddeh huwwy an cwean poopies? Nu smeww pwetty on Cawmen fwoow.”

She sat in her nest and watched her daddy clean up her poopies. It hadn’t been this way at the beginning, but it had quickly become this way. At first he’d spoiled her, given her anything and everything she wanted without hesitation. Sometimes he’d give her a can of Skettiland sketties for a treat. Sometimes he’d bring home a small stuffy friend he bought at the dollar store. It was more than she’d ever had before, so she was always thankful. She loved her daddy and told him often, which made him want to do more and more for her. He told her that she was the best fluffy in the world. In fact, he told her so often that she really started to believe it. And what does the best fluffy in the world deserve? The best stuff.

He’d bought a small television for her safe room so that she would watch FluffTV all day while he was at work. That, in retrospect, had been a huge mistake. Carmen had seen all KINDS of things on FluffTV, and she wanted ALL of them. Unfortunately her daddy said that things cost “munies,” and he didn’t have a whole lot of “munies.” That didn’t make a lot of sense to her; if he really loved her, wouldn’t he do whatever he had to do to get more munies so he could get her all of the bestest things? She decided that meant that her daddy didn’t really love her as much as he claimed to. So if he didn’t love her, well, she wouldn’t love him either.

Her behavior got worse very quickly. But her daddy really did want to make her happy, so he put up with it. She’d cry and beg for some toy that he couldn’t afford, and he wouldn’t be able to console her. Then she’d take a shit in the kitchen, and he’d clean it up without complaining. He wouldn’t punish her with the sorry stick. In his mind it was kind of a trade-off; she didn’t get the thing she wanted, but she did get away with breaking a rule. So it was all a wash, right? He’d hoped it would be enough.

He was an idiot. He wouldn’t ever admit to being an idiot, but he was a total fucking idiot. What Carmen learned was that she could ask for something she knew she’d NEVER get, then make her daddy feel guilty for not getting it for her. Once he felt guilty she could do or say anything, no matter how awful, and he wouldn’t punish her. If he DID raise his voice or threaten to punish her, all she had to do was cry and whine and talk about how she was SUCH a good fluffy but daddy never did ANYTHING nice for her, which made her upset and blah blah blah. Eventually he’d back down and apologize to her, taking her verbal abuse and cleaning up her messes. Every single time.

He’d become a doormat for his fluffy, simple as that. And she walked all over him gleefully, every single day.

Eventually she learned how to lie and how to be really good at it. Lies became natural for her; she’d tell a story that excused her bad behavior, shed a few tears, and it would be accepted. She learned that using her name would always help sell the lie, too. When daddy finally started getting tired of cleaning up her waste she invented a story that her poopie place didn’t work right, so it really wasn’t her fault. It upset her, too! She hated it! Her daddy had taken her to a couple of fluffy vets, which cost more money than he had to spare. Neither of them could find anything wrong with her. But she insisted that her poopie place was broken, and he loved her and wanted her to be happy. So he believed her. He believed all of her lies, because he was that much of a pushover.

The one thing he wouldn’t budge on was babies. That had earned him “sorry poopies,” where she yelled at him and shit all over him as some sort of punishment. He’d actually punished her that time, refusing to give her sketties for an entire month. He’d intended to stop giving her sketties for six months, but she made him feel guilty constantly, and eventually he caved. He always caved. But no matter what she said, no matter what she did, he refused to let her have babies. There was no way he was going to cave on that one, and he told her that over and over again.

Carmen saw something in his eyes every time he said that, a fire that wasn’t normally there. And she knew deep down that he meant it. No matter what she did, he’d never let her have babies.

So she ran away. She’d find a stallion and start a family. If things went bad, well, she’d find another pushover human. She knew how to lie. She knew how to handle them.

Which is how she ended up in the alley. Which is how she met her new daddy.


“Dese am bestest sketties, daddeh. Fank yu.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie. I’m glad you like them. I’ve got enough for a couple of days. I know it’s not ideal, but it’ll be a nice treat, right?”

“Suwe, daddeh. Buh Wouisa wan mowe Skettiwand sketties. Can haf mowe?”

“Well, like I said, for a couple of days. Then…”

“Den haf mowe.”

“We’ll see. Eat your sketties, Louisa. And maybe learn how to say ‘please’ at some point.”

“Why haf say pwease? If Wouisa am bestest fwuffy den daddeh wan gif bestest fings. Daddeh jus gif, Wouisa nu say pwease.”

“I know you’ll ask for things. When you ask for things, it’s good manners to say ‘please,’ especially when you’re asking your daddy.”

“Otay, daddeh. Wouisa weawn tu say pwease.” Sure. Sure she would, absolutely. Right.

“Good girl. I left your new stuffy friend in your nest. When you’re done eating, would you like to go see him?”

“Yus, daddeh. Fank yu fow bestest nummies.”

“You’re welcome.”

She finished eating in silence, hoping that she’d thanked him enough to make him happy. It was nice having the good sketties again, but she knew that if she pushed it she wouldn’t be getting them very often in the future. Or maybe at all, if she pushed it too far. This daddy was a pushover, but not as much as her old daddy. She had to take it slow.

Once she was done she waddled into her safe room and found her new stuffy friend. It wasn’t the one she’d…had before? Imagined? It was obviously brand new, and very high quality. It was just the right size for her to give it huggies and snuggle up to it when she went to sleep. Was it as nice as the other one, the one she swore had existed before today? Yeah, she guessed it was. She wrapped her legs around it and gave it a big, strong hug.

“Fank yu, daddeh. Dis am bestest stuffy fwiend.”

“You’re welcome. Would you like to watch some FluffTV with daddy now?”

“Yus, wan see Fwuff Teebee.”

“And what do you say when you’re asking for something?”

“Uhhhh…pwease am watch Fwuff Teebee?”

“Good girl!” He lifted her and carried her to the living room, where they watched FluffTV until Louisa was yawning constantly. Her daddy laughed at her sleepiness, and she was too sleepy to even be annoyed with him. He carried her back to her safe room, tucked her into her nest, and put her stuffy friend beside her. She reached out and pulled it to her, holding it tight and nuzzling against it.

“Fank yu, daddeh. Gudnite nao.”

“Goodnight, sweet fluffy.” He turned the light off and closed the door, leaving her to drift off to the glow of the night light.


Louisa woke up in her comfy nest and yawned a big yawn, stretching out her legs and mumbling to herself sleepily. She nuzzled her stuffy friend and looked around at everything she had. Her litterbox, her food bowl and water bottle, her blockies, her assortment of balls, the…

Wait, what? WHERE WERE HER BALLS? And where were the other toys, too? She had a number of children’s toys in her safe room. This thing with wheels on it that, when you pushed the handle, it rolled and a bunch of little balls hopped and jumped around inside of it. This little thing that had shaped blocks, and she could put the blocks in the right holes and they’d go right in. Where were those? She didn’t see them ANYWHERE! Just the blockies and her stuffy friend! NOTHING ELSE!


She tumbled out of her nest and ran around the room, getting more and more upset as she failed to find the missing toys. They weren’t there at all! How could they be gone? It was like her stuffy friends and her bestest sketties all over again!


She had to shout for a while before he came to see why she was yelling. By that time she was equal parts annoyed and scared.

“Daddeh!” she shouted. “Whewe am bawws? Whewe am toysies?”

He yawned. “You’ve got your stuffy friend right there, and your blocks. Those are your toys.”


“You need to calm down RIGHT NOW!” There’s a sternness in his voice that hasn’t ever been there before. “You’re being VERY unreasonable right now, and this is starting to get on my nerves.”

Louisa flinched at her daddy’s angry voice. She hadn’t heard him THIS mad before. Despite her irritation and her growing fear she’d have to be careful not to make him any madder.

“Daddeh,” she said a little more quietly. “Wouisa haf wots a toysies when go sweepies. Nao dem toysies am gone. Whewe dem toysies gu?”

“Don’t tell me this is like the stuffy friends you imagined. Louisa, you’ve never had those things. All you’ve ever had were the blockies, and the stuffy friend I gave you yesterday.”

“Nu, daddeh, dat nu am twue.”

“You said that before. Are you going to accuse me of being a liar again?” His voice was cold now, lower. Louisa knew enough to know that calling him a liar would make him even madder, and if his voice was any indication she did NOT want to see him any madder than he already was.

“Nu, daddeh. Nu am gon caww daddeh a wiaw. Buh Wouisa knu dem toysies wewe dewe befo.”

“We’re not having this conversation. You’re imagining things again. Look, if you want a ball, I’ll buy you one after breakfast, okay?”

She paused. She wanted to complain, to tell daddy that she WASN’T imagining things. She wanted to tell him that he was a liar. But part of her was starting to really wonder if she WAS imagining everything. Plus daddy had been good to her so far, and she was so sure that she’d be able to train him to obey her every whim. She REALLY didn’t want to keep pushing it.

“O…otay, daddeh. Mebbe Wouisa wemembah wong, an dewe nu bawws an toysies. Wouisa wan baww…pwease?”

“That’s better. I’m glad you’re starting to realize that you’re remembering things wrong. I’ll go get your breakfast, okay? Then I’ll buy a ball.”

“Fank yu, daddeh. W…wuv daddeh.”

She ran back to her nest, buried her face in her blankets, and sobbed as hard as she could. She beat her hooves against the soft bottom of the nest and screamed into her blankets, letting them muffle the words that fluffies weren’t supposed to say. How could she have found such a dummy daddy, a dummy who let things disappear and then didn’t remember that they’d ever been there? It HAD to be him, right? It…it COULDN’t be her, right?


“Louisa, what are you doing? Why are you screaming into your blankets?”

Daddy was back, and he sounded concerned. She waddled backwards out of her nest, sniffled, then turned to face him. “Wouisa haf bad heawt-huwties, daddeh. Nu feew wight. Thinkie-pwace am mebbe pwayin twicks. Nu happies.”

“Maybe some food will help you feel better.” He leaned over and placed the dish on the floor. Louisa happily waddled over, shoved her snout into…wait, what? These weren’t sketties!

“Daddeh,” she said, her voice trembling with barely-contained rage. “Wha am dese?”

“It’s your kibble. You love your kibble.”

“Dese…dese nu am SKETTIES, daddeh. Wan SKETTIES. Awways haf SKETTIES. Daddeh awways gif SKETTIES. Nu gif dese kibbows dat nu smeww pwetty, daddeh. DADDEH. WHY DADDEH DU DIS TU BESTEST FWUFFY WOUISA?”

“What are you TALKING about?” he asked, nearly shouting. “You ALWAYS have kibble. You LOVE it because it’s made to be extra healthy for your babies. You always thank me because you KNOW it’ll help your babies so they can be born healthy.”


“No! Don’t you yell at me, Louisa! I’m getting sick of your shit!”


“Don’t you call me a dummy!”

“DUMMEH DUMMEH DUMMEH, DADDEH AM DUMMEH! DUMMIEST DUMMEH DAT EVAH DID DUMMEH!” She stamped her hooves and blew a raspberry at him.

“That’s it, I’m getting the sorry stick, you ungrateful little bitch.”

As he left the room, Louisa decided to prove to him once and for all that he was a big dummy liar. She ran down the hall, past him, and into the kitchen. He was yelling at her, but she didn’t care. She only needed a little time. She ran over to the magic door that covered up the cans of sketties. She grabbed the handle with her mouthie and stepped back so that it would open up and show her all of the sketties. The door was open wide; she let the knob go and stood in front of the open cabinet, staring at all the…

Bags of kibble.



She grabbed one of the bags with her mouthie and dragged it out, letting it fall on the floor. Then she climbed into the cabinet and looked around. She was going to find the hidden sketties.

There weren’t any. None. No sketties at all. Just bags that she recognized as kibble, because they were a lot like the bags of kibble that her old daddy used to feed her.

No sketties. No sketties at all. None.

Now daddy was yanking her out of the cabinet by her tail and he was shouting at her.

“I’m not going to hurt your babies, but I’m going to sorry stick some sense into you,” he shouted. “You can’t keep doing this crazy shit.” He brought the stick down on her rump and she screamed, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t hitting her anywhere near enough to leave a mark, and they both knew it. “What if you start acting crazy when your babies come?” Another hit, another scream." “What if you hurt your babies?” Whap, whap, whap. It did hurt, but only a little. She still screamed like she was being murdered.

“DADDEH PWEASE NU HUWT FWUFFY,” she cried out. But he didn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. As she stared at the cabinet, the cabinet that didn’t have any sketties in it, she sobbed and screamed and wondered when the pain would end. She wondered when her thinkie-place would stop making her think things that weren’t true.

She wondered so many things. So, so many things.

But mostly she just cried.

Part Three


HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! That’s what you get bitch!




This is both my favorite explanation to the existence of certain smarties as well as how to deal with them


Holy fuck, I actually feel angry reading this.

Perfect work!


God, I wouldn’t have the patience to deal with the little bitch


It’s what she deserves :smiling_imp:

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omg this is amazing. please more. i must know what happens next


There are some spoiled fluffies that I like more than others, and this little bitch isn’t one of them. I have never wanted to see a fluffy die a miserable, slow and painful death like this one. You did a fantastic job with writing an unlikable fluffy since the other douchey smarty fluffies usually feel super forced. Like the author is just holding up a sign that says “HATE THIS FLUFFY I WROTE OH MY GOD ISN’T SHE A DOUCHE???” Again, good job. I hope you keep this fic going.


Soon smarty go commit neck snap and fire

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You’ve me hooked with this story.

As for Carmen/Luisa’s personality… man, I’ve known real women like that.

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