TextDownloadMistuh Wojuh’s Neighbowhood By: Soon-Dummeh and farteater Part 1 - Yu Aside from the occasional rumble of cars, the park was lonely. A fluffy sat on a bench, pawing at its belly. It was baby blue, its fluff having faded to reveal a muddy grayish tone. it hadn't had a decent meal in many forevers. Starvation combined with a lack of pigment in its meager diet led to an ugly and distempered fluffy. The rain made its fluff soggy, and miraculously, it hadn't drowned yet. A million minor aches and bruises wracked its shriveled body. Especially achy was its poor tummy. With a lack of picnic foods filling the trash bins lately, what little food the fluffy could find was easily rotten. It had recently consumed a small number of bean pastries, and was now troubled with horrible gas. "Stoopi' tummy," it muttered. "Stop makeen' fwuffy hab owies." A bitterness troubled its countenance. Thoughts in its head were simple. no fair. No fair! Just wanted nummies and huggies and a nice human mommy or daddy or nonny or someone. Icky cold sky water. So cold. Tummy hurties. No fair. Want mommy… The longer its mantra went on, the more bitter it got. A tall, gruff looking man neared the park while hurriedly pacing down the sidewalk, obviously intending to pass by. A cigarette dangled from his mouth, with him taking frequent, long drags. Obviously a chain smoker. Eventually, he passed the entrance of the footpath that led to the fluffy’s bench. The muddy fluffy noticed him, and the gears began chugging and grating in its little head. It remembered being harassed by teens and some adults. Its poopy-place remembered too. Scar tissue marred its fluff there. But with little food left in the trash lately, it didn't have much of a choice other than begging from the man. And besides, the fluffy was drawn to the human. It didn't know why. Programming kicked in, and it hopped off the bench despite its aching and malnourished form. Scampering across the sidewalk to the man, its thoughts become more hopeful. Scary mister, but so hungry! Please, let this be fluffy's new daddy! Give nummies and warm huggies! Fluffy be so happy! Have hurties… What was it going to say? What could say that would convince the man to take it home? Its mouth ran dry and it couldn’t speak. It caught the man’s attention. He stopped walking, lit another cigarette from the first’s butt and stamped the old one out on the sidewalk. What does this thing want, the man thought. He’d had a herd in his yard before, but he let them eat the grass and then made them leave. It took some encouragement to get the smarty to convince the herd. Still, he didn’t hate the things, as long as they didn’t beg or demand shit beyond food and water. He made eye contact with the fluffy below him and looked it over. It’s obviously been out for a while, or maybe it’s feral. Surprised this retard hasn’t drowned itself by talking to the sky begging it to stop raining. The dirty fluffy simply looked up at him as it continued to approach, its expression unsure. Sourness briefly crossed its countenance again, but swapped back to confusion just as quickly. Its mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. It's been so long since it saw a human in this lonely park. Its programming persuaded it to make "puppy eyes" but it recalled what happened last time it tried that. It couldn't beg and cry, or the man might give it hurties. But it couldn't say nothing and let the man get away, either, or it will surely get worstest tummy owies and forever sleepies. The stress of fighting its programming and the stress of realizing the precariousness of its life in the situation for the nth time, combined with its gassy pain, nearly derped it. Its legs kept moving it forward. It realized the kinetic sensation and briefly forgot what it was worried about. Gaining a new perspective, it decided to take it easy. It put on a polite smile and walked along with the man, trying to enjoy the company. The man looked down at the fluffy, continuing to enjoy his cigarette, saying nothing. ..... at least it hasn’t begged for something extreme, like for me to give it a rimjob or whatever else it wants… “Can I help you with something, little buddy?” Little buddy. The fluffy's hope soared. Nyu daddy![i] It did a little skip before processing the rest of the question. "Uhm," the fluffy said before it could fully form a response. "Fwuffy am weaw hungee an' tummy owwies gon’ gib fwuffy fowebba sweepies, so wan’ ask nice mistuh fo' nummies anmebbebenyudaddeh, bu' no wan bovvew nice mistuh 'cuz no know ib nice mistuh am nice mistuh an' no wan’ wowstest huwties an' fowebba sweepies, so fwuffy wuz jus' gon wawk wif nice mistuh untiw fwuffy can make pwetty tawkies fo' nice mistuh be happy an' gib nummies." The man continued to smoke, but no longer seemed in an obvious hurry. “Well, that’s actually what I’m going to do; is get some ‘nummies’ as you call them. Maybe you can come with me, but only if you behave. Speaking of.... I know how much you fuckers shit. Go over in the grass. Don’t come back ‘till you’ve pooped.” The man lit another cigarette, and took out his phone to pass the time while the fluffy did its business. "Fank you, nice mistuh!" The mangy fluffy beamed and waddled to the grass, eager to please. It hadn't noticed its gas much while it traveled through its digestive system to settle at the final sphincter of its asshole. Now it realized that it has to, Frrt! It was visibly relieved in both senses of the word. Its farting also sprayed shit out of its asshole, luckily aimed at the lawn of the park. It scooted its ass across a cleaner patch of wet grass to wipe anything that might remain. Even though the fluffy still ached with hunger and bruises, it did a little prancy dance after getting back on the sidewalk, and looked with adoration at the man. [i]Gross. The only words that came to the man’s mind while witnessing this. Still, it’s not like he hadn’t had the same thing happen to him. Recently, even. What do these things eat? I know they go insane for spaghetti, and there’s that Italian place with outdoor seating down the road..... it’s a nice day, and I’m sure they don’t want a dirty fluffy inside. Fuck it. “Hey, furball,” the man said. “We’re getting Italian. Pick up the pace, I didn’t eat breakfast.'' Uploader Soon-Dummeh, May 2, 2020; 20:48 Tags collab fart feral Mistuh_Wojuh's_Neighbowhood questionable rain shit stray Source Unknown Locked No Parent None Rating Questionable Comments May 2, 2020; 20:54 - Reply Soon-Dummeh: Of course; I missed the italic. Anyway, I had the headcanon where a fluffy's coat color could be influenced by its diet. Like a flamingo. Starving fluffies are more often faded and brown, even when they may originally have been another color. May 2, 2020; 22:35 - Reply Anonymous1: I like the idea of ferals being dingier than they would be as domestics, not just because they're dirty, but because their poor nutrition affects their coat, but you don't have to reach for Flamingos for this, it happens to mammals and even the the hair on your head. But it would be helpful, probably if you had a line or two establishing why the dumbfuck fluffy doesn't just eat the grass in the park. It could be something like it's winter, and the grass doesn't have any nutritional value, or it could be something like the Fluffy ate grass one time as a colt, but it was after a weedspraying and it burned his tongue until he memorized that Grass wasn't food, or if you wanted to do something a little more hellgremlin-y like he thinks that grassie nummies are for dummies. May 3, 2020; 08:30 - Reply Soon-Dummeh: Ah yeah, now that you mention it I do feel a bit dim. I may have thought about it during the roleplay, but mentioned it later. I'll address it in the next part.