alicorn author:MrCrow crying feral feral_herd foals genital_abuse herd hugbox impending_abuse nursing poopie_babbeh sadbox smarty smarty_abuse sorry-stick talkie_babbeh the_fluffy_fixer yard_invasion

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The Fluffy Fixer: The Herd
Chapter 7
By: MrCrow

(Are the apostrophes too much in the fluffspeak? Fluffies say things like Wan' or Nee' Huggies a LOT, so would it just be better if it was Wan Huggies or Nee Huggies instead?)

XX

Well, yesterday was Tabitha's abortion. She's still pretty depressed about it, but hopefully this will have an overall positive effect on her personality.

Instead of dwelling on that, you decide to go check on Pickles and Daffodil. Or, more specifically, their growing foals. While their eyes opened about a week ago, they've only begun to walk within the last three days. With mobility comes play, and accidents of all kinds. Their parents have been pretty good (as far as you can tell) with teaching the foals how to be Good Fluffies, but as you approach, you can already see that there's a situation.

Daffodil is sitting on her rump, crying, hugging her equally distraught alicorn foal. “What's all this then?” you ask, in your absolute worst British accent.

Daffodil sniffles, and sets the foal down. “Teww daddeh wha' happen, pointy-wingie-babbeh.”

The little pink foal, still small enough to fit in your palm, bawls her eyes out on the grass by your feet. “Huuhuuhuu, nu wan' be bad babbeh! Nu mean tu make bad poopies, poopie-pwace nu wisten when babbeh teww poopie-pwace tu wait fow babbeh be dun pwayin', huuuuuuhuuhuu! Babbeh sowwy, babbeh sowwyyyyyhuuhuuuhuuuuuu!”

Ah, a common problem for foals. Either they don't notice they're shitting, or in more behavior-related cases, don't want to stop playing to go shit. She's been doing a little better than her brothers, but this is still nearly a daily thing, and probably will be for another couple days. “I believe that you didn't do this on purpose, but you still need the sorry-stick.” For the first few offenses you just gave the foals a flick to the nose, but it doesn't seem to be enough.

You got a Sorry-Stick Jr. specifically for this, though. (It even fits on your keychain!) Despite her few glaring flaws (child-favoritism and the whole thing with Berry) Tabitha was an exceptional mother for her foals, even better once those issues had been resolved. Emerald's a damn idiot, even for a fluffy, and you only had to flick him the once since Tabitha took care of the rest. Daffodil is nearly obnoxious levels of kind and loving, but she doesn't have it in her to discipline her own foals, so that job falls to you.

The alicorn foal peeps in fear and runs back to hide in Daffodil's fluff. “Nu wan'! -peep- Nu wan' sowwy-stick, huuhuu nu wan' huwties! Babbeh sowwy! Nebah make bad -chirp- bad poopies ebah 'gain, huuhuuhuu, babbeh pwomise!”

You cock one eyebrow, though your incredulousness is lost on the fluffies. “That's what you said last time. Did you lie to daddy?” you ask, extending the sorry-stick jr to it's full length. (Eight inches vs the full-sized eighteen-inch sorry-stick.) They're basically just telescoping pointers like what might be used during a presentation, only a bit sturdier so they don't break as easily as the fluffies they're meant for.

The question just makes her try to burrow further into her adoptive mother's fluff, but Daffodil picks the filly up and sets her, trembling, between the two of you. “Nu be bad babbeh. When babbeh du bad ting, babbeh nee' sowwy-stick oa babbeh go bad! Eben if babbeh nu mean du bad ting, stiww nee' sowwy-stick... jus' wittew owwies 'sted of big owwies.”

The little pink foal hugs herself in a small puddle of her own urine, terrified of the sorry-stick. Seems like it's one of those gene-memory things, like how even with no words spoken near them, they still know how to say certain things like 'wuv', 'huggies', 'mummah' and 'miwkies' after a few days. “B-Babbeh sowwy da-daddeh, huuhuu pwe-pwease nu gif babbeh h-huwties! -cheep- Am onwy a wittew babbeh! Nu wan' s-sowwy-stick, huuhuuhuu...”

With your free hand, you hold her front half down. You feel her little wings strain weakly against your palm, trying to flutter like her legs try to pull her away from you. It's obviously no use, but this isn't something you've seen during your earlier discipline sessions, minus that first one with Citrine. The sorry-stick is almost more a psychological punishment more than a physical one. “I don't want to do this, little filly. You made this happen.”

It's apparently very important for fluffies to understand and believe that punishments were their fault. Refusal to believe, or insufficient reinforcement of that point can lead to multiple personality and behavior flaws, which often lead to the death of the poorly trained fluffy.

Even with fluffies, there's only so much actual damage the sorry-stick jr can dish out, so you don't really have to hold back on your strikes. You hold back a little anyway, just in case. “EEEE!” She screeches as your first hit lands. “Babbeh haf huwties, huuhuu! Babbeh -peep- babbeh sowwy daddeh, babbeh sowwy! Mummah, babbeh haf huwties, nee' huggies!” The sorry-stick jr makes a faint whipping noise as you strike a second time. “OWWIES! Huuhuuhuu, pwease nu mowe huwties daddeh! Babbeh nu make bad poopies ebah 'gain, huu, pwease nu -chirp- nu mowe! Babbeh su sowwy, huuhuuhuuuuu!” A quick check to make sure she's not actually injured, and you land a final hit to her shaking backside. “EEEEEEE! Huuhuuhuu, nu wan' mowe huwties, nee' huggies! Mummah, babbeh nee' huggies an' wuv, huuhuu!” Satisfied for now, you put the sorry-stick away so as not to scare her more than necessary.

You pick her up and place her into Daffodil's waiting arms. The yellow dam lets her tears fall silently, not wanting to upset her baby any more than she already is. “Dewe dewe babbeh, mummah hewe. -sniff- Mummah wuv yu babbeh...” She looks up at you, eyes wide and sad. “Mummah sowwy fow make daddeh gif babbeh huwties... Mummah wuv babbeh su much, nu can gif owwies when babbeh nee' dem...”

“I know.” You think about having her ask Tabitha about parenting, but it's probably too soon after her failed litter. It WAS only yesterday... Maybe an extra positive incentive would help. “I'll make a deal with you, Daffodil.”

She quirked her head to the side, sadness replaced by confusion. “Wha' am deew?”

How to explain the concept of an exchange to a fluffy... Fuck it, Pickles can handle this. You wave him over from playing with his colts, though they come with him. “Hewwo daddeh! Daddeh nee' Pickews? Wan' huggies?”

“I want to make a deal with you and your family, but Daffodil doesn't know what a deal is. Could you explain to her?”

“Otay daddeh, Pickews teww spechew-fwend 'bout deews. Spechew-fwend, deews am wike... deews am wike spechew huggies! Fwuffy wan' babbehs, su fwuffy gif spechew-fwend spechew huggies. If nu wan' babbehs, nu gif spechew huggies. If nu gif spechew huggies, nu get babbehs.”

“Daddeh wan'... spechew huggies?”

“NO! No, god no.” GOD no. “No, look, just... If all of your babies only poop in the litterbox for two days, I'll give them names. THAT'S the deal. If they're good for two whole days, I'll give all three of them names.”

Daffodil, originally startled by your shout, gapes at you. “Ohhhhhhhhhh! Daddeh wan' gif babbehs namesies, bu' daddeh nee' babbehs be gud babbehs fow tu bwight-times fow get namesies! Babbehs heaw daddeh? If babbehs nu make bad poopies oa bad peepees fow tu bwight-times, babbehs am get namesies!”

The colts cheer and hug Pickles' legs, while the alicorn quietly snuggles deeper into Daffodil's fluffy yellow belly. The actual sorry-stick made quite the impression it seems.

Well, that was more complicated than it needed to be. You start walking away to check on Tabitha, but Pickles is tugging at your pant leg. “Daddeh! Daddeh, Pickews smeww nyu fwuffies! Nu smeww pwetty doh...”

A feral herd, eh? You reach down and ruffle Pickles' dark green mane. “Thank you for telling me, Pickles. You're a good fluffy.”

“Pickews am gud fwuffy? Fank yu daddeh!” He exclaims, hugging your leg before waddling back to his family. “Daddeh say Pickews am gud fwuffy!” You can hear them congratulate him as you head back inside.

You don't use your yard gate anymore, just in case it latches wrong or something. Don't want anything except you entering or exiting the back yard.

++

Now at the front room of your house, you can definitely hear the nonsensical babbling of ferals. You can smell them, too, and Pickles was right. Not pretty in the slightest.

You can't see them through your windows yet, but the rustling of bushes tells you they're approaching your home. Only a few minutes later, they start coming out of the forest into the opening around your house. At the front of the pack is a neon orange unicorn with an equally loud hot pink mane. “Nyu housie!” It shouts, breaking into a run. This causes the other fluffies to run as well, trying to catch up with their leader. “Smawty find bestes' nyu housie fow hewd! Am bestes' Smawty!”

Luckily, having thought forward to this exact situation, you set up a fluffy trap in your front yard. A simple chickenwire fence with a big bowl of old kibble in the back and a remote-controlled door linked to your phone.

As more of them arrive, several of the fluffies notice the kibble. You open the door so they can get to it, and as soon as the last of the medium-sized herd are in there, you close it back up. Literally just a bigger, slightly more high-tech version of the old box and string trap, but it works.

They haven't noticed their predicament by the time you approach them. They see you coming though, and the Smarty starts throwing insults at you, but for now you stay far enough back that even the most determined hellgremlin couldn't shit on you, (you've got some rubber overalls and your DMGs on for later though) and you take a look at the merch.

Must be twenty or so adults, and at least triple that in foals. Things sure can pump out kids, if nothing else. There's a wide range of colors, but one that instantly stands out to you is a black one with a red mane. Those are some edgelord colors for a fluffy, and you're digging it. You'll probably also grab a 'poopie-babbeh' as Citrine's mate, if only to piss these guys off. You've said it before, but you're a sucker for an underdog.

Finally, having picked out at least one hopeful from the crowd, you turn your attention to the walking rave that was the herd's Smarty, who is still threatening you. “-sowwiest, SOWWIEST hoofsies! Nao gif mowe nummies an' sketties an' housie!” You quickly close the distance, pick the Smarty out of the pen and drop him on the ground, knocking the wind out of him with an “Oof!”

You lift your leg back and line it up. “No.” And you deliver a kick... that could shatter bones... into the crotch... of Indiana Jones.

Jokes aside, your kick could DEFINITELY shatter fluffy bones, and that kick did go straight into the eyesore's balls, but he probably wasn't named Indiana Jones. He flips end over end, mouth agape and eyes bulging in agony, tears already falling, before landing face-first in the dirt and flopping onto his back. You can see him struggling to make a sound, twitching and shivering in mind-boggling pain. The orange Smarty vomits onto it's own face and snout, and finally, a chirp escapes his throat. Then another, and another. “-peep- -haf- W -cheep- W-WUMPS! SPE- -chirp- SPECHEW WUMPS!! -haf- -haf- SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

You walk the fifteen or so feet to the Smarty and see that his balls are, well... gone. A fluffy's nutsack is prominently displayed, and doesn't hang like a human's. It's more like a cat's, so when their balls are crushed or removed it's very easy to see, and this dude's balls might as well have never even been there. The only sign (aside from his obvious agony) of any damage is a slow stream of blood leaking out of his dick onto his neon orange gut.

Yikes.

Well, he's out of commission for the foreseeable future. No more kids, too.

The pen is in full-blown panic at the defeat of their Smarty, but you shut that down with the loudest “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” you can manage. It echoes through the woods, having shocked the herd, even most of the foals, into silence. You still got it. “Good. Stay quiet.” Didn't seem to reach the Smarty though, he's still screaming and sobbing in the dirt.

You quickly single out the edgy unicorn and bring him outside the pen. “Hey there little guy. I have some questions for you, and if I like your answers, I'll give you a surprise! What do you say?”

The black fluffy stares up at you cautiously, but his voice held excitement. “N-Nice mistah gif fwuffy supwize? Fwuffy wan' supwize...! Wha' nice mistah wan' kno??”

“Do you have a special-friend?”

Immediately his excitement ended. “Fwuffy nu haf spechew-fwend... Smawty say fwuffy nu am poopie, bu' nu am pwetty 'nuff fow haf babbehs, huu...”

“If you DID have a special-friend, what would you do if your babies were poopie?”

“Fwuffy... Fwuffy nu kno! Smawty say poopie-babbehs am onwy fow poopies an' wickie-cweanies, bu' fwuffy nu wan' be meanie... Bu' if fwuffy nu am meanie tu poopie-babbehs, Smawty say fwuffy haftu gu 'way an' be aww awone! Nu wan' be aww awone!”

Well, he can follow directions he doesn't like, at least. “It's okay, I understand. One more question. What would you do if you saw a fluffy that had wings AND a horn?”

“Scawy... Fwuffy wun 'way, nu wan' be nummies.” And that clinches it. You can work with a non-violent fear of alicorns.

“Those were some good answers. I have to find one more good fluffy like you, and then I'm going to give both of you that surprise, okay? Just be a good fluffy and wait.”

“Otay nice mistah! Fwuffy wait fow nice mistah.” You ruffle his red mane and start looking around for a brown foal.

You sift through the older foals and find a young unicorn with a dirt brown coat and a mane that, after a thorough washing, might be white. Not caring who this guy's family is, you grab him and step back outside the pen.

“Nice mistah find gud fwuffy? Gif supwize nao?” he asks, sitting on his haunches and quirking his head to the side.

“That's right! And the surprise is, you get to come with me!” Before he can stir the herd up with talk of 'nyu daddeh' you scoop him up and rush inside.

You set both him and the crying foal in your kitchen, where you've already set up a bowl of kibble and some water. “N-Nice mistah nu huwt fwuffies, am gud fwuffies!” the black unicorn begs, huddling over the foal.

“Hey, don't worry little guy. I'm not going to hurt either of you. The REAL surprise is... I'm going to be your new daddy!”

They both freeze. “N-Nyu daddeh?” the foal squeaks out. “Daddeh wuv poopie-babbeh?”

“Well for starters, you're not poopie. I think you're both very pretty. You ARE both rather dirty though. I've got a bunch of fluffies that would love to be your friends, but first I need to make your old, MEAN herd go away, and then I'll give you a bath so you smell better.” You look down to see the former outcast foal hugging your boot with all of his shit-stained might, and the grown fluffy doing the same to your other leg.

“Fank yu nyu daddeh...” the foal whispers. “Babbeh -sniff- babbeh nebah be su heawt-happies...!”

“Alright, alright, everyone off. I've got to go scare the mean, bad fluffies away. There will be some scary noises coming from outside, but I promise that you're both completely safe. Nothing out there can hurt you any more.” You smile and pat their heads so they let go.

You step back over the makeshift baby gate you put back up, grab a baseball bat, fit some goggles over your eyes, and walk back out the front door, a grin stretching across your face.

You've always wanted to get into acting. You only wish some TV producers could be here so you could show off this Negan performance you're about to do.

Comments

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Anonymous1: YRS
- Reply
Anonymous2: No apostrophes works fine, go with that
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Anonymous3: i was the first to comment 13 minutes ago but my comment disappears
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Anonymous4: also i’m anon 3 and 1 and 4

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MrCrow: @Anonymous: I can see all 4 of your comments, and I appreciate your feedback! Unless I get a bunch of votes towards apostrophes I'll probably do as you say lol
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Anonymous5: The apostrophes work for me, but that’s just my inner grammar-Nazi coming out, after it recovers from reading the rest of the fluff-speak.
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Anonymous6: Why are the electric goats attacking when we have guests in the vicinity?

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RexSushi: Do whatever works best for you. Aside from that, I'm really liking your stuff so far. I've been thinking about doing some writing myself too.
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Anonymous7: Glad to have you back, apostrophes or not
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AnonymousFluffyArtist: Nice lemon demon reference! I love that song!
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Anonymous8: Can’t wait for the next one!
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lovesosa: Please don't be gone, I'm loving your writing and I want to see the end of this saga
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Anonymous9: Mate, this is one of the best stories I've read. Keep it up