Crybabbeh

Feyascia, July 26, 2015; 15:20 / FB 32767
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Crybabbeh

By Fey

****************

There once was a little foal n-"Wake up, Fatass!"

RUDE

There was a foal named Crybabbeh.

Crybabbeh lived in a biggest human housie. He lived there with his wonderful human mummah and a human sorta-daddeh, the mummah's boyfriend, which is like a special friend with no babbehs. Crybabbeh would call the boyfriend "mummah's nu-speshuw fwiend", but that made the boyfriend very angry. Crybabbeh instead settled on "meanie daddeh".

Crybabbeh had a big, fun saferoom that was filled with all kinds of great things for fluffies. It was floored with green shag carpeting that tickled Crybabbeh's fat tummy when we walked over it. It tickled him now as he headed for the open saferoom door. He waddled down a small stretch of the living room and into the tiled kitchen. Crybabbeh's fatrolls hung a hair's breadth from the floor, and his orange babbeh fuzz swept over the smooth tiles. His mummah insisted that someone keep the kitchen floor spotless for her little baby.

Crybabbeh raised his horned head to look up at the tall human standing at the counter. "Wha' meanie daddeh wan? Ish nummiesh time? Cwybabbeh wan bestesh skettiesh! Wuf skettiesh!" Crybabbeh fluttered his little wings with excitement.

Meanie Daddeh sighed and dropped the foal's skettie bowl to the ground, causing a loud clank. Crybabbeh started with a fright, fell onto his plump side, and let out a spurt of feces.

"Meanie Daddeh! Nu scawe Cwybabbeh! Nu gud! Nu wike!" His legs waggled uselessly in the air. "Daaaaaddieeeeee! Huuhuuhuuuuu! Nu can wun! Hewp! Hewp! Safe babbeh!"

"You've never run in your life, Fatass." The boyfriend rolled the foal back over with his foot.

"Nu am fatash! Am Cwybabbeh!" The fluffy orange ball puffed his cheeks up at the full-grown man.

"Then why did you come when I called you Fatass?"

"...Shaddup! Cwybabbeh jush wan skettiesh! Cwybabbeh come tu nummiesh woom fo' nu mowe hungiesh an' haf skettiesh."

"You are fat. Your ass is fat. It is a fat ass, so you are a Fatass. It shouldn't be hard to understand, even for you."

It took a few moments for the orange foal to process this. He stamped a tiny hoof in indignation. "Nu! Am Cwybabbeh!-"

"Sure are"

"Dash wight! An' yu am stupie, meanie, fatash daddeh! Nu Cwybabbeh! Nao gif skettiesh for Cwybabbeh. An'...an' cwean poopiesh! It nu smeww pwetty nu mowe!"

The broad-shouldered man pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Things I do for..." He cut himself off and grabbed a can from the counter. He bent down to slop half a can of cold Chef Boyardee into the foal's food bowl. "Eat the fuck up, pudgeball. I'll clean the shit after you're done. No point doing it now when you'll just let another link slip form your overused poop chute." The human then stepped over Crybabbeh.

The chubby foal attempted to follow after the long stride, but he could hardly move with his stubby, fat-enveloped leggies. He had also walked right onto his own waste, which caused him to stick slightly to the floor. The human quickly disappeared around the corner. Crybabbeh resorted to shouting his grievances at his caretaker until he ran out of breath. After several seconds, he gave up and turned back to his food bowl.

The boyfriend lounged on the couch and turned on his daytime soaps. The cheap, dramatic music and cheaper, dramatic acting drowned out the feeble cries about "cowd nummiesh" and "nu smeww pwettiesh".

He returned to the kitchen an hour later to grab a beer. He found the orange foal glued to the floor by his own waste and sobbing quietly. An empty bowl, licked clean of sauce lay before him, and an enlarged pile of feces lay behind. The boyfriend sighed yet again. He pulled the foal off the floor, eliciting a cry of "owwies!" and carried him off to the sink. The little fluffy was cleaned off with cold water and a sponge before being placed on the floor to make his own way back to the safe room. The boyfriend quickly disposed of all the waste, grabbed his light beer, and plopped back down on the couch.

****************

Later that evening, three sat at the dining room table: the woman, the boyfriend, and the foal. The foal was actually standing ontop of the table with his face buried in a mound of warm spaghetti even larger than his rotund body. The other two ate from their own plates in more traditional fashion.

The short-haired blond cleared her throat sharply and impaled a meatball with her polished silver fork. "Crybaby seemed quite morose when I returned home this evening." She turned her gaze from her plate to the little fluffy, allowing herself a brief smile as she watched the foal eat like a pig at the trough. "I do hope that you two haven't been arguing again. It wouldn't be a fair fight."

The boyfriend's face reflexively shifted into a supple mask of concern. "Oh, no. Nothing of the sort. Well...nearly nothing. I gave him a bath, and he gave me the usual list of complaints."

At the mention of bath-time, the foal pulled his head up from his dinner. His cheeks were puffed out, filled with pasta. "Fafa bap po' fuffith." He delved his head back into the noodly tangle before even starting to swallow or chew.

"See?" The boyfriend took a swig of his beer to wet his throat. "Just the usual fluffy quirks. Nothing serious."

"Hmmmmm. What could he have gotten into that would have required a wash?"

"What was it? Oh, well, the little guy is quite the enthusiastic eater." The boyfriend motioned to the side with his elbow. The foal's fuzz glistened with marinara sauce from the shoulders up. "By the time he had finished his lunch spaghetti, he managed to soak himself from tail to snout."

"Fuf thekkieth", the quivering mound of pasta interjected.

"Mmhmmm...Do try to keep a better eye on him, would you, dear? He's only a little baby after all; he doesn't very well know better."

"It's not that bad. He just gets fussy whenever you're out. It's just not the same with only me around." The boyfriend took a longer swig of his beer.

The woman put down her fork and ran a sculpted nail down the fat foal's spine. "Awwww, does someone miss his mummah? I'll see about clearing out some extra time this weekend."

"I know someone that needs to spend more time with Mommah~."

The woman flashed her boyfriend a grin and picked her fork back up, raising the meatball to her plump lips.

****************

Several bright times come and go, and Crybabbeh follows his usual routine: waking up, shitting, skettie-nummies three times a day, eating the last meal of the day with Mummah if she gets back from works in time, playing and watching TeeVee between nummies times, and shouting at meanie daddeh for doing everything wrong.

One new bright time, after Crybabbeh had awaken and made poopies, the corpulent alicorn made his slow way from the saferoom to the kitchen. Meanie daddeh was already there, pacing across the polished tiles and holding the talkie blockie to his head.

"[...]and it's Saturday. You promised that you would stay in this weekend. What am I supposed to do with our reservation now?

...

"I'm not eating out alone like some putz."

...

"That's not the point! We were supposed to have a weekend together. I had planned out romance and everything."

...

"One of your underlings could have taken care of it."

...

"Steve?! That pretty boy? Why the fuck is that airhead in charge?! I thought you said this was an important account!"

...

"...Training my ass."

...

"Wednesday?! Why the...Hello? Did you just hang...Raaghr!!!" The shirtless man threw the talkie blockie across the room. It hit the wall and shattered into a bajillion little blockies, making a loud noise that caused Crybabbeh to let out a spurt of feces onto the once immaculate floor.

"Nu be shu woud, meanie daddeh! Yu scawe babbeh! Bad meanie daddeh!" Crybabbeh puffed his cheeks out and stamped a hoofie.

The boyfriend turned his gaze down towards the foal. He stared with a look that could bore through granite. The little fluffy stared back, not wavering a hair under the fierce eyes.

Several minutes passed.

"DUMMEH DADDEH GIF SKETTIESH! CWYBABBEH HUNGWIESH!"

The man nearly growled. Without saying a word, he grabbed some leftover pasta from the fridge, popped it into the microwave, set it to nuke, and then left the room.

Crybabbeh watched him leave then waddled up to the counter holding the microwave. He sat his rump down in front of it and watched the humming-boxie with anticipation.

The microwave dinged.

The door did not open and present delicious sketties. Crybabbeh whined, a high-pitch squeal in the back of his throat.

After a forever of starvation, the boyfriend returned. He removed the plate of pasta from the magic warmies-box, placed the food on the ground, and poured some strange green liquid all over the sketties.

Crybabbeh sniffed the pasta. "Meanie daddeh, what am dat gween juish? Dat nu smeww wike pesto saush."

The boyfriend took a long, deep breath before settling into a creepy smile. "It's a special sauce. Your mummah got it, just for you. She wants you to eat up all the yummy sauce."

"Weawwy?"

"Yep!" He squatted down and held the bottle out for Crybabbeh to see. He pointed to a black picture of a scary face with two sticks crossed under it. "See this? This picture means that it's a best sauce and just for best fluffies."

"...Dat's wight! Bestesh saush am onwy fo' bestesh fwuffiesh!" Crybabbeh gave one of the slick noodles a testing lick. He gasped. "Sweetie saush! Dish am bestesh saush!" The rotund alicorn delved into his food. He quickly finished off his portion of pasta and slurped up the pool of green juice at the bottom of the dish. He belched then waddled back off to his safe room.

Or he attempted to waddle. Crybabbeh had just gotten to the living room when his head started to feel light. The objects in the big room spun around uncertainly, and a leg gave out from under him. He fell to his knee and struggled to push himself upright. The room kept moving around, making it hard for his leggies to find proper footing. Crybabbeh had to move slower than usual and focus on moving each little hoofie forward forward forward. Despite his efforts, Crybabbeh still fell and stumbled many times.

"Meanie daddeh...hewp Cwybabbeh. Weggiesh nee' sweepiesh. Nee' beddie..."

Crybabbeh heard a puttering sound and then a long vroooooooom coming from outside. Meanie daddeh was playing with the loud grassies-nummer. It would be too many forevers before meanie daddeh would be able to hear him.

The little orange alicorn made it through the short stretch of living room and tumbled into his safe room. He picked himself back up. The room swam. He moved his heavy hoofies forward, one by one. A sharp pain built up under his horn. His bed spun around in the back of the room. He stumbled towards it. He fell in the middle of the room.

He could not push himself back onto his hoofies. The floor upturned and became the ceiling. He vomited. A pool of sickly-green starchy chunks clung to the ceiling.

His heart raced. His breath came quick and hot.

"Cwybabbeh have huwtiesh... Nee' beddie... Pwease wowk, weggiesh!"

"Huuhuuhuu... Owwiesh... Why weggiesh nu workiesh?"

"Cwybabbeh wan mummah! Mummah! Heewp!"

"Pwease, Mummah, safe babbeh."

"Huuuhuuuhuuuhuuu."

"Mummah!..."

"Chirp!"

"chi-"

Darkness fell over Crybabbeh.

****************

*Months later*

An rust-red alicorn was walking down an otherwise abandoned sidewalk. The large fluffy had a black mane and tail, and the fluff from his knees-down was white and extra fluffy. He sobbed to himself as he waddled past dirty buildings.

A heavy truck zoomed by, raising a loud rumble and splashing an oily puddle onto the sad alicorn.

The fluffy started with a yelp and ducked into an alley. He huddled behind a rusted dumpster to shield himself from the scary munstahs that roam the streets.

"Huuuuu... Cwyde am cowd. Cwyde am hungwy. Cwyde am wonewy! Cwyde miss Mummah, wan mummah back."

The fluffy buried his face in his hooves and cried until he had no more saddie wawas to give to the saddies. He picked his head back up and sniffed the icky-sicky wawas away.

Then he sniffed some more.

Sniff Sniff! Something smelled good. No. Something smelled great! He picked himself up and followed his sniffy-place towards the back of the alley. (Really, he almost always followed his sniffy-place, but this time it was telling him where to go.) In the very back of the alley was a metal pan, and inside the metal pan was sketties! The fluffy was so very hungry. He would have eaten yicky nummies just to stop the tummy owwies, but here he had found a bounty of bestest nummies.

...But bestest nummies don't grow on trees. Some human had to have created the nummies (for some reason) and had to have placed them outside (for some reason). ...Maybe they were for fluffies?

"Hewwoooo? Nice Mistah? Nice Wady? Why sketties? Can Cwyde have some sketties, pwease? Pwettiest pwease?" The fluffy tilted his head to the side, raising an ear up to catch the reply.

No reply came.

He waited for what felt like forever, nearly drooling on the food as he instinctively drew closer.

A whine built up deep in his throat, and he shuffled anxiously from hoof to hoof to hoof to hoof.

Well...it couldn't hurt to take a little bite. Maybe the human forgot it back here. If the human comes back for it, he can apologize and offer huggies in exchange.

Assured, the fluffy leaned in, mouth opening wide to embrace the delicious nummies.

"WHAT DUMMY FWUFFY DOIN?!"

The stallion nearly jumped out of his own fluff, and he strained hard to keep the scaredy poopies in. He fell back onto his rump and beheld an orange ball floating over the nummies tray.

"CWYBABBEH ASKED YU QUESTUN! YU TOO DUMMIESH TU TAWKIESH?"

It wasn't a ball. It was a pudgy little foal. It had a horn and wings and an angry look on its pudgy round face. And it was flying! But how could it fly? It wasn't flapping its little wingies at all.

"Hewwo. Nyu fwiend? Cwyde am Cwyde. Cwyde haf wostest tummy huwties, so Cwyde wa-"

"Cwybabbeh nu cawe! Nu fwiendsh wif dummeh fwuffy. Dish am Cwybabbeh skettiesh!"

"O-Oh! Cwyde nu no. Cwyde am vewy so-"

"SHADDUP!" The little foal floated down to the bottom of the tray, pointing to a picture of a black skull (scary!) ontop of two black bones. "See dish pictah? Dish pictah mean dat dis am bestesh skettiesh onwy fo' bestesh fwuffiesh. Dish am skettiesh dat bestesh humin Mummah gif to Cwybabbeh, an' it nu fo' dummy fwuffiesh!"

The older fluffy started to sniffle at this. "Huuuu... Cwyde wish Cwyde couwd find Mummah 'gain. Miss mummah suuuu much!"

The foal cocked his head then looked out into the distance for a short moment... "Dummeh! Yu mummah am dat way!" He pointed a hoof towards the right. "Gu past wotsha big bwockiesh an' dere ah big gwassiesh fiewd. ...A pawk. Yu mummah wookiesh fo' yu at da pawk!"

"W-WEAWWY?"

"SHADDUP! YESH! Nao gu'way! Dish mah skettiesh!"

The older alicorn gasps. "Tank yu nice babbeh!"

"AM CWYBABBEH!"

He hopped up and ran off in the direction the foal indicated. Within the hour, his tearful owner would be taking her re-found pet back home for sketties and hugs and wuvs.

Crybabbeh watched the big fluffy leave and blew a raspberry after the retreating tail. Once he was good and alone, the little foal floated into the pan of sketties, devouring all the pasta in seconds. He kept finding these trays and plates of special sketties that his mummah had left out just for him. He knew that he couldn't be far from finding her again.

Crybabbeh burped and floated off to find his next clue. Or a puddle of special sweetie juice; he was getting thirsty.