TextDownloadUnfinished Business Part 6: The Flood The kiddie pool you bought may have been small but it was still a bitch to blow up by yourself. You took the garden hose and filled it up. The water was pretty cold but it was summer in Georgia and we still had a few hours of sun left so a good towel drying should keep them safe from hypothermia. The fluffies were playing and exchanging each other's new names amongst themselves. You had 30 minutes until their bowels would be hard to control, you needed to act with haste. Cyrus, being the most intelligent, was already curious about what you were doing, he trotted over and put his front hooves on top of the edge of the inflatable pool, peering at the water. “Daddeh... wawa am bad fo’ fwuffies...” “You guys are filthy, if I’m going to do anything with you I can’t have mud and shit on my clothes” “Otay daddeh..” With that you stood up and prepared my announcement. “Alright fluffies! It’s time to clean you up! Can I get the soon-mummuhs over here one more time for today?” Tomyris positioned Dido and rolled her on over as the other two dams followed. You decided to deal with Dido first, she could struggle less and with her due any day you wanted her hygiene to be a priority. “Okay Dido, I’m going to pick you up and give you a bath okay? The water is going to be cold but afterwards I’ll dry you off.” “Bu...b- wawa am bad fo’ fwuffy!”, Dido protested. “I’m going to do this, I just wanted to let you know.” You picked her up by her scruff, her limbs flailing in limited circles of motion and her teats noticeably dropping below the rest of her. Yep it was either going to be tomorrow or tonight. Fluffy births don’t happen at any convenient part of the day, it’s completely up to chance. “Nuuuu! Bad upsies!”, you tried to ignore her but the other fluffies were having a hard time doing so. None of them had dared try to stop me but I haven’t even put her in the water. “EEEEEEEEEEE-*gurgle*”, you dunked her in the water to get her fluff wet. Due to her screaming just prior to being submerged, she came up coughing and hacking. You lathered her up with some of the baby shampoo and put her bottom half in the water to rinse it. The same process was done to the other side and then a total rinse just to be thorough. By the end of it Dido was shivering and softly weeping. “Huuhuu... pwetty fwuff aw wet nao... huuu” You wrapped a towel around her and dried her off as best as you could, the sun would take care of the rest. It was a dry summer anyway. “Okay Dido you go over to the deck and wait there.”, you figured the dry, warm wood would be a comfort. She didn’t reply but tried to struggle until I remembered she was incapacitated. I picked her up and placed her up on the deck myself. She was still unhappy but a little more calm. I went back and the process repeated itself with little variation. That is until Pasion. “NUUUUUUUUU! NU WAN WAWA! BAD WAWA!!!” He was making a feeble attempt to run once he was next up for bath time. Well well, you though. You didn’t think you would be using the twine so early on but depending on how hard he resisted you this may have been inevitable. You strode over to his fleeting figure and grabbed him up by the scruff, he was resisting much more than the other fluffies, they either fell limp, tucked their tails to their chests and hugged themselves, or struggled half-heartedly. Pasion was moving every muscle he could... well except one that he was saving for you. “YU WET PASION DOWN AW GIT SOWWY POOPIES!!!” “If you do that I will make it so you never have special huggies ever again.”, you said that sternly and with an intensity that hopefully embedded the point a little more into his head. But alas, the folly of a feeble mind. “NU CAWE! PASION NU WIKE BAD UPSIES FO’ BAD WAWA!!!”, with that he tensed his core and you repositioned him so his anus was pointing to a depression in the ground. Thank God you did because his ass was like a miniature fire hydrant, spraying more feces you thought he could contain and screaming the whole time. With his bowels now empty for the moment you walked briskly to the pool and dunked him in. You had to change the water a few times and he turned the somewhat clear water into muddy clouds almost instantly. You brought him up coughing and screaming in between coughs. The lathering commenced and with him it took three repetitions to get him to a decent level of cleanliness. At the end when you were done drying him off he was so hard from the struggling that he just laid down and huuhuu’d to himself. But you weren’t done yet, he had displayed very unfavorable behavior. He couldn’t be allowed to let that proliferate into new generations. The grass had to be cut again. You fetched the twine from the shed and came back grinning. This wasn’t exactly something you got off on but well, if they weren’t so pitiful about everything then maybe this would have been less entertaining. You unwinded out a good section of twine and cut it with your knife. Next was getting onto the bed of your truck. He seemed too tired to do much more so just grabbed him again and lifted him onto the edge of the bed of your truck. At first he tried to curl into a fetal position but you corrected that quickly. “Huuuhuuu why daddeh be meanie daddeh...” “You were a bad fluffy Pasion, I’ll let you off easy but good fluffies don’t scream at their daddehs, or be rude at bath time.” “Pasion wiww be good fwuffeeeeeee....”, he whined attempting to rectify all of this with pouting. “No apologies and no promises, you have been a bad fluffy and you need to be punished.” With that said you placed him upright with his legs dangling off the edge of your truck bed. His hooves fell limply inwards towards his stomach and the spot that was now the object of your focus. You moved closer to the stallions impressively sized gonads. A byproduct of fluffies being a genetic melange of a bunch of mammals, their genitals are typically large relative to their body size, but even with that knowledge Pasion had quite the set of balls, it’s a shame they won’t be around for long. You started to tie a loop around the base of his testicles as close to the body as you could, Pasion brought his hooves down in a futile attempt to stop you from harming his nuts. You flicked his muzzle. “EEEeeeee, why daddeh touch speciou wumps! Nee wumps!” “No you don’t”, my knot was finally tied after his struggling and shouting. It was a tight square knot and should be perfect for cutting off the circulation. Once that happens stallions usually moan about it until their testicles eventually fall off after the dead tissue loses its structural integrity. It doesn’t cause any sharp harm but definitely a prolonged sore pain until the nerves are dead. His “wumps” now looked ridiculous, the top being so restricted, the rest bulged out in a goofy fashion. “Huuuhuuuhuuu, daddeh... wumps huwt. Nu wan wumps tu hab huwties nu mowe...” “I’m afraid that’s what you get for being a bad fluffy.” He just sulked off to the rest of the herd who were now beginning to look tired. The mares and their foals were in a fluffypile and Herodotus and Darius were cuddling with Doppler who was still feeling the catnip a little. Hamurabi and Cyrus stood guard as they were still very weary of the “kitteh-munsta”. “Alright fluffies the litter box is over there”, you proclaimed with a finger pointed to a dry river bed on the side of the property. If it rains it should wash out the feces for the most part and you always had the hose. “Good fluffies make good poopies in the litter box”, the phrasing was very important. This should activate some latent genetic programming and they will now associate positive behavior with using the area you called a “litterbox” as a latrine. Doing otherwise will make a part of their subconscious scold them for being a deviant. “Yu hewd daddeh, gud fwuffies make gud poopies in da wittewbox”, Locusta was encouraging her kids as soon as you stopped talking and the other mothers followed. Pasion was getting hugs from other fluffies to make up for his “wump-huwties”. Hamurabi also mentioned his “wumps” having “huwties”. Looks like you need to see if Hamurabi is worthy of passing down his genes, you hoped he was because if not you needed another stallion. The words “another stallion” just seemed to have left your mind when you heard some familiar but troubling sounds. Sounds that had potential but would need work. “Smawty fin gud nummies for hewd and babbehs! Nee’ wotsa nummies for da babbehs.!” It was another smarty and some of his compatriots at the back of the property. Even though they had mares with them, some of them even pregnant, you didn’t see any foals. Yet they kept blabbing loudly about finding food for their young. The smawty spotted you and your herd of fluffies and pranced over to greet you. For being a so-called smarty he was approaching you in a very friendly way. “Hewwo nice mista! Fwuffies nee’ wotsa nummies fo’ babbehs! Hab wotsa babbehs!” The other fluffies filerted down out of the brush slowly. They were about as dirty as you would expect, as they moved into the yard proper Agrippa started screaming. “SCREEEEEEE! DA BABBEHS TAKEWS! NU TAKE BABBEHS! NU TAAAAAAAAAAAKE!” “Calm down Agrippa, hey smarty, how many foals do you have?” “Smawty hab wotsa babbehs! Nu knu wat dummeh mawe tawkin abou’!” “Uhhhh, how much is “wotsa”?”, you knew he couldn’t get it precise but if what Agrippa accuses this smarty of being is true he probably has quite a few. “Hewd hab twee-twees fo each big fwuffy. Smawty nu su suwe bu’ dat seems wight.” There were 7 adult fluffies including the smarty. The herd had 63 foals give or take. If they had that many that meant they had to be getting food somewhere. There weren’t many people around and none that would give enough food. You decided to talk to Agrippa who was cowering in the fluff of Livia and Boudicca. “Agrippa, what do you know about these fluffies?” “*haf* *haf* Wen wus wif *haf* odda hewd, dey cum to awe *haf* safe-pwace and steaw babbehs fwom mummuhs! EEEEEeeeeee......”, it was obvious why a smawty would steal a few babies but a lot? On top of that not using them as food and somehow getting enough food for mares to provide sufficient milk. Something wasn’t right. “Did anything else happen when these fluffies came to your herd?” “Yus! Fwuffies gib owd speciou fwiend foweba sweepies! An big mummuhs foreba sweepies! Den... Den dey nummed dem... Dey sed someting abou’ “nummies fo’ babbehs”” Well that was that. These fluffies stole foals to raise as their own and indoctrinate them and feast on the parents of these foals to feed them. This smarty was actually smart, but also ruthless and amoral. Well maybe not amoral entirely. You needed to see more of this herd and their smarty.You turned back to the smarty and leaned down to his level. “That sure is a lot of babies to keep track of, where do you keep all the babies? I bet it’s a super smart spot to put them, you are the smarty.”, you were playing to his ego now. Hopefully he’ll fork over the details on the main nest and you can send a message. You didn’t want feral interference. It would soil your controlled environment even more than it already was what with being a backyard and all. “Smawty am bestest fwuffy! Fin bestest safe pwace! Under owd nu-gud twee, smawty fin bestest safe pwace!”, these guys really did sound like computers sometimes, very predictable. You have to wonder what would happen if you could communicate with Doppler, who was just coming out of his catnip high. He didn’t like the smarty or the herd one bit, unlike me at the time, he knew what those sharpened teeth and blood stained eyes meant. I didn’t believe Agrippa at first that these fluffies were cannibals but Doppler knew. He got in between my herd and the smarty and his herd. Looks like the cuddling earlier may have warmed Doppler up to the fluffies, at least my fluffies. “So with all of those babies and so little food out here what’s your plan little guy?”, I was genuinely curious. “Wen babies gwow up dey hewp hewd an be tuffies, an lookie-fwuffies, an poopie-fwuffies, o’ enfie fwuffies.” That didn’t sound good. I bet this isn’t even the first generation of children of this herd. You wondered if this smarty or a different one set this tradition. Well, it didn’t matter. Your mind was already drifting to the buckets in the shed. It’s time for foal-hunting. It will be about as exciting as mushroom hunting. The kiddie pool also lingers in your thoughts, you could use that to arbitrarily weed out the foals into ones with potentially more resistant genes. Only one way to find out. Uploader Meta-Narrative, September 15, 2020; 00:43 Tags Author:Meta-Narrative genital_mutilation herd smarty Unfinished_Business Source Unknown Locked No Parent None Rating Safe Comments September 15, 2020; 02:11 - Reply Anonymous1: Nice read. September 15, 2020; 04:50 - Reply Anonymous2: Nice! September 16, 2020; 07:59 - Reply Anonymous3: Definitely needs more to the story September 17, 2020; 11:05 - Reply Anonymous4: I love it!Thanks for it.