Tiny Lives (Part 9) by emo_trash

Part 8

The familiar touch of your Mummah’s hand wakes you up. Gently, it curls under your tummy and lifts you up and to her chest. You’re really tired, so you keep your see-places closed.

Nuzzling your face against Mummah, you notice that she smells different than usual! You like it, though—she smells extra pretty.

“Good morning, my good girl,” she coos at you, and you let out a tired little peep. “Little one, wake up!”

“Ewwy am stiww su sweepy, Mummah,” you whimper, cracking open your see-places reluctantly. “Pwease mummah, wet Ewwy gu back tu sweepies?”

Gently, she begins to pet your back fluff, and you delight in her affection, every cell in your tiny body shivering with the warm joy of your Mummah’s love.

“Of course you can go back to sleep,” she whispers to you. “Mummah just wanted to say goodbye before she left for work. You’re going to be a good girl for Mummah, right Ellie?”

Tiredly, you nod.

For seven whole bright-times, Mummah has been practicing with you, getting ready for her to go to work. She would leave you and Dummy alone in the safe room for a little while, and then she would come back inside to care for you. Every bright-time, she would be gone for a small forever more than the one before.

Now, today is finally the real thing. You’re only a little bit scared—mostly, you just want to go back to sleep.

“I love you very much, Ellie-belly. If you are good, Mummah will give you a special treat, okay?”

“Yus Mummah,” you murmur as she lifts you up to give you kisses. “Ewwy wub Mummah suuu much, wiww miss yu. Bu’ Ewwy wiww be gud fwuffy fo Mummah. Wub yu wots an wots!”

She kisses your tummy, and you notice that she looks different than usual too. She has some pretty paint on her face, and it makes her look even prettier than usual; you didn’t even think that was possible! “I love you too, my beautiful baby. Let’s get you back to sleep now, alright?”

As she gently places you back in your still-warm nest—lined with an array of soft, fuzzy blankets, small cushions, and a well-loved hug-toy—you gently lick at her hand as she’s pulling away, trying as hard as you can to give her kisses of your own before she goes.

By the time she clicks the door shut behind her, the time is 5:37 am, and you’re already back asleep.

When you wake up again, you feel the warmth of the sun against your fluff. Stirring lazily, the brightness stings your see-places, so you close them again. You let out a huge yawn, stretching your four hoofsies out as far as you can before opening your see-places again.

You look down at your stuffed toy, gently giving its nose a few short lickie-kisses before rising to your hoofsies.

You glance at the clock—which you do every bright-time because you like to watch that thin red stick that Mummah calls the second hand go around in circles—and are oblivious to the fact that it reads 9:43 am.

As you do every bright-time, the first thing you do is trot over to the litter box and make good poopies.

This bright-time, you make a lot of good poopies. You are so proud of yourself, that you don’t notice the smears of shit that have stuck to a large area of the perfectly white fluff around your ass and down the back of your legs.

When you’re done celebrating your good poopies, you trod over to your food bowl for your next bright-time ritual—breakfast!

Dummy is waiting for you. He is staring sadly into his food bowl, which doesn’t even have enough kibble to cover the bottom of the small container. As soon as he notices you, his tail starts to wag.

When you first started eating solid food, Mummah made a new rule that Dummy is not allowed to eat until Ellie is done eating.

“Gud bwight-time, Ewwy!” he smiles at you. “Yu did woke up a wot watah dan usuaw. Aw yu weady fo bweakfas’?”

“Good bwight-time, Dummeh,” you say. “Ewwy am suuu hungwy! Am weady fo bestest bweakfas’ fwom Mummah!” Excitedly, you trot over to your bowl, which is directly next to Dummy’s. Your bowl is almost overflowing with delicious kibble that Mummah gives you. Taking a few moments to sniff the air around your bowl, you enjoy the smell-yummy air before taking your first bite.

Mummah tells you that a good fluffy eats slowly and carefully, enjoying the nummies and not making a mess in your fluff. You savor the tender, succulent bits of organic kibble, eating one piece at a time, careful to chew each morsel carefully.

The nummies are so delicious that you don’t even notice Dummy at your side, whimpering hungrily, staring down at your delicious meal with wanton envy. His stomach growls loudly. Unbeknownst to you, he has been staring at his food bowl for over an hour and a half—usually, you are up and eating breakfast by 8 am.

When you’re finally finished, the clock reads 10:13 am, and there is still plenty of yummy kibble in your bowl.

That’s part of what Mummah practiced with you. She said that she wasn’t going to be home to feed you until “fwee ocwock”, whatever that means, and that you have to save some of your nummies to eat later.

You lick your lips, satisfied, and then let Dummy know that he can eat now.

After he made bad poopies and made Mummah take all of his fluff away, he spent all of his time sitting in front of the litter box, only ever dragging himself away to eat before immediately going back.

This made you really sad, so you told Mummah that you wished he was able to play with you again. After that, she made him start wearing this puffy white piece of cloth around his poopie-place and hind leg stumps—she calls it a “diaper”. It catches all the poopies before they can touch the floor, and Mummah even said that poopies in the diaper are not bad poopies! They’re not good poopies, but they’re not bad poopies either.

Dummy is a bad fluffy. You know that because Mummah said so, and Mummah is the smartest Mummah in the whole wide world, so she’s never wrong!

Mummah tells you that it’s okay to be friends with Dummy, even though he is a bad fluffy. You can still give him hugs if you want, and play with him, and other stuff.

He’s very nice to you, but you don’t really like him a whole lot. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s the only fluffy around, and he keeps you company when Mummah isn’t there.

After he made Mummah take his fluff away, it never grew back the right way. The area underneath his diaper is completely bald, and large chunks of his fluff and mane never grew back. The harsh chemicals had destroyed the hair follicles on his face, as well as somewhat scar and disfigured the skin.

If you’re being honest, he looks a little bit like a monster.

You’re not scared, though. He only looks like a monster—he tries really hard to make you happy, but without his back legs, he can barely move at all. What little he can manage is really slow and hurts him a lot. Whenever he thinks you can’t hear him, he cries, but his hu-huus are so loud that you always hear him anyway, and it makes you sad.

Dummy is a bad fluffy and eats his nummies very fast; he doesn’t even save any for later! When he’s done eating, he slowly turns to you with a grimace.

You are excited; it’s time for your next morning ritual—maybe even your favorite! “Ewwy am weady fo wickie-cweanies, Dummeh! Dummeh make Ewwy fwuff su cwean an white an nice! Gib Ewwy wickie-cweanies!”

It took Dummy a long time to learn how to give lickie-cleanies the right way. Every time he did a bad job, Mummah would hit him with the sorry-stick. It took him about three weeks before he finally finished, for the first time, without a beating.

He takes a lot longer than usual today, and he spends a lot of that time near your poopy-place. When he’s finally done, the clock strikes 11 am.

“Ewwy fwuff am su cwean an pwetty!” you chirp proudly. “Ewwy am da pwettiest fwuffy eba!”

“Ewwy am bewy pwetty,” Dummy tells you. “Dummeh wub Ewwy mowe dan anyfing!”

This isn’t the first time he’s told you this. “Ewwy wub yu tu,” you say to him, even though you don’t mean it. You don’t dislike Dummy, but if you were able to have a different friend instead, you’d want that.

You know you don’t have to lie to him, but you are a nice fluffy, and you want to be nice to your friend,

“Ewwy wan pway wif bwockies,” you tell him. “Ewwy wiww meet yu dewe.”

You dash across the room to where a set of fluffy-safe Jenga blocks sit. You spend twenty minutes stacking, chewing on, and rolling around with the brightly colored blocks of wood.

Dummy is about three inches away from you when you decide that you’ve had enough of blocks. You rise to your hoofsies and look around the room for something else to do.

Suddenly, you spot it!

“Baww!!”

The huggy-fluffy has no hope of keeping up with you as you chase the ball around the room at what feels like a break-neck pace. Your soft, squishy hoofsies slip and slide around underneath you as you sprint as fast as your stumpie legs will carry you. “Ewwy wub wun!” you giggle, delighted, still locked in the chase. “Wub baww! Weggies take Ewwy suuu fast!”

For forty-five minutes, Dummy cries quietly to himself, soaking his face fluff with tears as he watches his beloved friend run with a sickening jealousy burbling with the hunger in his tummy.

Suddenly, the TV clicks on!

Instantly, you abandon the ball, trotting over closer to the screen, settling yourself down comfortably to watch.

You watch for a long time. Eventually, Dummy manages to drag himself next to you, and he wraps his hoofsies around you in a hug. “Wub Ewwy,” he murmurs. “Smeww pwetty. Wook pwetty. Am su nice. Dummeh wub Ewwy su much!”

This time, you just don’t respond.

Right then, you start to get hungry again. You pull away from the half-bald colt and finish the rest of your food. When you’re done, you make good poopies in the litter box, and then settle yourself back down—away from the other fluffy.

At 2 pm, your favorite show comes on! It’s Babies!

You loooove Babies!

You look at all of the mummahs and their little babies running and playing. They sing mummah songs, and teach you how to take care of babies and be a good mummah or daddeh!

They even show you how to make babies…you think. You see two fluffies do some sort of weird dancey thing together on the TV, but you don’t really understand.

Before you know it, Mummah is opening the door!

“Mummah!” you scream, launching yourself toward her as fast as you can. “Mummah, yu am back!! Ewwy did miss yu suuuuu much! Am su happies yu am home! Ewwy wub yu!”

Mummah scoops you up into a hug, and when she kisses your tummy, you hug her face as tight as you can, showering her with lickie-kisses, your tail wagging furiously behind you. You are so excited, in fact, that your whole body is wiggling! Every inch of your tiny body writhes in excitement and delight and Mummah holds you close and showers you with more love and affection than any fluffy could ever ask for. You bask in the warmth of her love, and every fiber of your being reaches out to be closer to her, to hug her, to give you all of the love that is bursting inside you!

You giggle with glee, and she pets you softly. “My sweet baby!” she cheers. “Mummah missed you too. Were you a good girl while Mummah was at work?”

“Yus Mummah!” you chitter. “Ewwy did sweep extwa wate, an den ate su yummy nummies—fank yu fo nummies, Mummah! An den Ewwy did pway wif bwockies, an wif baww tu! Ewwy wuuub tu pway wif baww! Wub tu wun an chase an wun! Den, Ewwy eat da west ob hew nummies wike a gud fwuffy! Oo, an den da teebee wen’ on! It was wike magic, Mummah!”

At this, Mummah laughs. You love that sound so much! Your Mummah has such a beautiful laugh! “Silly girl, Ellie-belly,” she tells you, tickling your tummy, which makes you squirm with a giggle. “Mummah turned the TV on for you! I can do that without even being there, like I did today at work.”

You are stunned.

“I’m glad you had such a nice day, my beautiful baby. Since you were such a good girl, you’ll get your special treat, just like I promised.” Mummah’s smile is dazzling as she holds you up in the air. “Are you ready for your first ever plate of spaghetti?”

SKETTIES!!!

Part 10

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I wonder. Are you perhaps thinking of betraying Ellie or is Dummy the only one to suffer?

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You, for the very first time in your entire life (and much to your chagrin) genuinely love a fluffy pony. Said fluffy also happens to be a ridiculously well-behaved fluffy (that said, you did raise her to be). If she ever does do something wrong, she’ll probably be put in the sorry box for an hour or two. Enough that she’d learn her lesson, but only just.
Also, it’d be very clear to Dummy that the severity in punishment is nowhere near the same, and that’d fuck him up, which is always fun.

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Either way is going to be very fun to read. I love these.

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Just when you think Dummy can’t sink any lower, he becomes a glorified litter pal to the fluffy who flaunts everything he’ll never have in front of him. Simply diabolical. Well done!

Since it seems like mummah is monitoring her fluffies while at work, I’m thinking she should get a shock collar for Dummy so she can administer remote punishment. It’s only a matter of time before he lashes out at all the unfair treatment.

And in all fairness, Ellie is starting to let all of the pampering get to her head. She needs to be taken down a few notches, I agree nowhere near as bad as Dummy, but a bit of light discipline to show Dummy that even when Ellie is a “bad fluffy” like him she gets off far easier.

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you have done a very good job at making a human protagonist whos skull i would love to crush beneath my heel until nothing but blood and dust remained. anytime i read this story i feel a genuine hatred in my heart, and if this demon person makes it to the end of this story intact and happy i will find a way to breach the walls of reality just so i can reduce her to nothing more than a puddle on the floor. very few stories have managed to elicit such a passionate reaction from me. i dont think its very good for my mental health

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I hate that I love this.

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Will the owner give one-day happiness to Dummy? It wouldn’t be fun if he was in pain all the time, in his shit smelling horribly and malnourished. Maybe Elli would become very jealous, yelling at him or silent treatment

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It seems to me as though she is really slowing down with the brutal torture like we saw in part 7. The harm now has been mostly psychological, on top of starving the already stunted little foal. Dummy’s owner is either leading up to some grand finale where Dummy goes out in a blaze of glory, or she realizes that Dummy can’t really stomach much more physical abuse before he croaks. Going easy on him and (temporarily) making him think he has something to live for would play toward her long term goals. She wants Ellie to become the perfect fluffy and Dummy to suffer as much as possible. But she has to be smart about it otherwise Dummy’s suffering will be prematurely cut short and Ellie will turn into a full-blown smarty with that budding superiority complex of hers.

Whatever happens I really hope the next chapter is from Dummy’s POV.

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i enjoy abuse, but seeing how dummy was fucked trough his whole life makes me angy >:(

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I love the idea of the shock collar!

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I made the strange decision to read this part first before going back through the others and spent a good deal of thinking it was a strange kind of hugbox story. Then I spent a few hours catching up and went oh, this is abuse, but some good shit.

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I do hope dummy gets his comeuppance

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