Runtyshy: Part 4

Runtyshy: Part 4

	>You are Cherry, a fluffy momma
	>And meanie Teddy is trying to take your last baby
	>He already took your other two good babies, and you hug your good baby as tightly as you can
	>”Nuu, Teddy! Babbeh nee’ mummeh! Gud babbeh! Babbeh wuv Teddy an’ mummeh! Pwease nu take babbeh!”

	“I’m not doing this because the I think the baby is bad. I’m doing this because it’s going to a much better home.”

	>”Nuu! Mummeh wuv babbeh! Babbeh wuv mummeh! Mummeh gud mummeh!”

	“That’s a lie, and you know it. Before you ‘loved’ this baby, it was the green one. Before that, it was the red one. Hell, I’m not even going to mention the runt.”

	>Teddy’s words hurt, and you cry even more
	>And now you’re angry

	>”Teddy big dummy! Teddy meanie! Mummeh hate Teddy!”

	“Don’t make this difficult, Cherry. Give me the baby.”

	>Teddy isn’t crying, like you expected
	>You’ve tried everything you can to keep your baby
	>You begged
	>You turned into a meanie
	>And it didn’t work
	>Maybe there’s still one thing you can try
	>The cage is locked
	>It would take Teddy a long time to get you when you went through with your plan
	>But first you need to trick him
	>You sniff loudly, and pick up the baby
	>It coos in your arms, and snuggles up into your warm fluff
	>A few minutes ago, you would have hugged your baby back, and given it lots of love
	>But that’s all changed now
	>”O-otay..muh-muh-mummeh gif baby Teddy…wuv babbeh…huuuu…”
	>Ted’s expression softens a bit, and you spring into action
	>You drop the baby onto the cage floor, and push both of your front hoofsies onto it’s head
	>”MUMMEH! OUCHIES! AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHH!  AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGH!”

”Holy fuck!”

>The cage door swings open, and Teddy’s hand flies towards you
	>Your timing was off
	>As soon as you begin to push harder, you feel Teddy’s fist connect with your snout, and you smash into the back of the cage, crumpling into a heap of fluff and boo-boo juice
	>Teddy snatches the baby away, and you begin to cry
	>”W-why du-dummeh Teddy h-hewt mummeh? Am g-gud mummah!”

	“Are you fucking serious? You tried to kill two of your fucking foals already!”

	>”D-dummeh b-babbehs nee’ bi-bigges’ owwies…”

	“I’m going to fucking – no. No, forget it. That would be way too easy on you. Tell you what: I’ll leave you here over the weekend. No food, just a bowl of water. Maybe then you’ll learn some respect for both me and other fluffies. But most importantly, your babies, you terrible, terrible mother.”

	>No food?
	>You need food!

	“Dummeh Teddy! Gif Chewwy nummies nao, oh Chewwy…Chewwy gif sowwy poopies! Numm-ies! Numm-ies!”

	“Fine, give me ‘sorry poopies’. You’re the one who’s gonna be festering in it for two days.”

	>And Teddy leaves, with your ugly, dummy baby
>A terrible momma?
	>You’re a terrible momma?
	>No
	>No, you can’t be a bad momma
	>But you tried to give your babies ouchies
	>Only bad fluffies give ouchies to babies
	>But what about bad babies?
	>The bad baby
	>This is all the bad baby’s fault
	>If the baby was never yours, none of this would’ve happened
	>You hate the bad baby
	>You hate Teddy
	>You hate your good babies, because they’re bad too
	>You’re the only good fluffy there is
	>You hope they all get forever sleepies
	>All of them

	-----------------------------------------------------------

	As it turned out, everything was not going to be alright.

	It’s been about a week since Rex showed up, and today is the day that you have to give Runtyshy another hormone shot. The list of side effects she’s having are growing by the day; rashes, swelling, soreness, various pure liquid excretions, and a few other unpleasant things that usually clear up within a day or two. Needless to say, Runtyshy hasn’t been taking too kindly to the shots. She’ll comply, but you can tell she definitely doesn’t want to. No matter how much you tell her it’ll pay off in the end, she’s always hesitant.

	Today is a bit different.

	“Fluffyshy? It’s time for your shot.”

	You know that outright telling her isn’t making things any better, but it’s a lot better than trying to trick her. Besides, you wouldn’t have a way of making it subtle. You can’t just slip it into her food or anything like that, and she might jump when you stick her with the needle, which could break off while still inside of her. It’s best to just get it out of the way early.

	“Nee, nu…”

	Yeah, turns out she picked up a few words from Rex, such as “good”, “no”, and “ouchies”. You don’t really know where the last two came from, since you didn’t hear Rex say them, but you figure she must have heard them somewhere.

	“We have to. You don’t want to have the biggest ouchies, do you?”

	She cowers a bit at the term ‘biggest ouchies’, but stays resilient.

	“Nu! Ouchies! Ouchies!”

	She clutches her stomach and then her head with each shout of ‘ouchies’, presumably trying to tell you that the shots give her stomachaches and migranes.

	“We need to do this.”

	“Nuuuuuuuuu! Nee! Ouchies!”

	She’s practically pleading with you at this point, trying desperately to convince you not to give her the shot. You feel terrible, naturally. While you don’t want her to be sad, or in pain, you’d rather have temporary pain over death any day of the week. Still, seeing the look in her eyes, a look of pure fear on her face, you don’t even want to give her the shots, not unlike how she doesn’t want them in the first place.

	But, as the saying goes, you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do. You look away, and begin speaking in a quiet, low voice.

	“I’m sorry.”

	You hold Runtyshy down to the table, firmly but not painfully, and force her front right hoof up. It’s tough. Not because she’s resisting, or fighting back, but because of the fact that she’s slumped down, defeated, bawling her eyes out. In her mind, you’ve betrayed her. She doesn’t understand that what you’re doing is for the best, just that her daddy, the one she loves and trusts, is shoving her down on a cold counter so that he can just inject her with more of the stuff that hurts her and makes her miserable.
	Runtyshy sobs, loud, mournful sobs as you depress the plunger. She’s not fighting it. She’s just crying, as hard and as loud as she can, the knowledge that more sickness is on its way, all thanks to you and those fucking shots. You pull a chair out, and sit down, your head buried in your palms. Rubbing your temples, you reach into your pocket and pull out your cell phone.

	555-348-1856.

	“Hello?”

	“Hey, Ted. It’s Anon.”

	“Anon? What’s up?”

	“Remember the side effects of the hormones you told me about? Yeah, they’re fucking worse than we thought they’d be. Runtyshy is in hysterics now because I just forced her to take one, and she knows it’s gonna make her sick.”

	“So why’d you call me, then?”

	“Because I need some fucking advice, Ted! I’m not used to this kind of shit!”

	“Anon.”

	“What?!”

	“Calm down and take a breath.”

	You almost go for a retort, but you realize he’s right. The more you yell, the more reasons Runtyshy has to be afraid and sad by everything that’s being thrown at her right now.

	“Alright. Okay, I think I’m good.”

	“Good. Now, think back to the right you brought her here, when I gave you the hormones. Do you remember what I told you?”

	“Yeah. You told me about the side effects of the shots and what you used them for, stuff like that.”

	“No, Anon. I mean after that. What was the last thing I said to you when you left?”

	“Keep her happy…”

	“That’s right. Keep her happy. I told you that the shots might not work. Maybe this is a sign that they’re not. Even then, she’s not living happily right now, is she? I can hear her crying from however far away she is.”

	“What are you trying to say, Ted?”

	“I’m saying that maybe it’s time to stop giving her the shots.”

	His words hit you like a truck, the impact worsened by the fact that he makes sense. If the shots don’t work, and she does die before she’s all fixed up, there’s not a doubt in your mind that she’ll die a despondent wreck of a fluffy, betrayed by the one she loved the most.

	But what if the shots do end up working? What if it’s not worth the risk of stopping the injections? She’s grown, quite visibly over the past few weeks. Maybe, if you keep it up, she’ll manage to pull through. But you’ll have to find another way. You can’t keep shoving her down and forcing the needle on her. What could you even do?

	“Okay, Ted. I think I know what I’m gonna do. Thanks.”

	You hang up before he can respond, and you punch in another phone number. 555-287-1920. You hear fumbling from the receiver, and a familiar voice answers.

	 “Hello?”

	“Hey, Rob. Listen, I need you to do me a pretty big favor.”

	-----------------------------------------------------------

	>You are Rex, the big, toughie earthie
	>And right now, you’re sitting on Daddy Rob’s lap while he watches the magic box
	>From what you can tell, some meanie human named Walt is yelling at his grandpa, Mike
	>You’re not really paying attention, since you’re just gnawing on the corner of one of your blocks
	>It doesn’t even taste very good, but it makes your mouth all tingly, and that feels funny, so you keep doing it
	>All of a sudden, Daddy Rob’s ringie thingie starts making noises!
	>”Daddeh Wob! Wingie tingie!”
	>Daddy Rob gives you a scratch on the head, and grins down at you before taking the ringie thingie out and putting it up to his head
	”Hello?”
	>You try as hard as you can to hear what the other human is saying
	>Ringie thingies are really weird, since there’s a whole bunch of people in each one
	>You tried to get them out once, but they couldn’t seem to hear you
	>Maybe they like being inside of the ringie thingie, you don’t know
	”Well, sure, I guess. I’ll have to check with him, though. Yeah. Alright, no problem.”
	>Daddy Rob puts the ringie thingie back and looks at you
	”Rex, do you remember going to Anon’s house last week?”
	>You nod, unsure of where this is going
	”Do you want to go over again?”
	>”Wexie wan’ go! Pway wif Wingie, wotsa fun!”
	>Daddy Rob looks away for a second, and he doesn’t seem to be as happy as you
	>In fact, he seems almost sad
	>”Daddeh Wob?”
	”Yeah, about that…Wingie is sick.”
	>Wingie? Sick?
	>Oh, no!
	>”Wex nu wan’ Wingie sick! Nu wan’ Wingie be wike babbeh an’ spechaw fwend!”
	>You stop calling yourself “Wexie” whenever bad things start happening
	>It’s a thing that meanie smarty taught you to do, so you seem tougher
	>You just think Wexie sounds a lot nicer than Wex, but that was the point, to seem like a bigger, tougher fluffy
	“That’s the thing, though; Anon thinks that you might be able to help Wingie get better.”
	>”Wex hewp!”
	“Atta boy. Anon’s going to tell you what you need to do when you get over there, so just be ready, alright?”
	>”Wex weady.”
	“Let’s go, then.”
	>Daddy Rob carries you off you his “car”
	>You like to think of it as a really fast monster
	>But it’s not a scary monster, more like a friendly monster that takes you places
	>Still, being in the car usually makes you feel sickies, so Daddy Rob always puts the trashies in front of you, just in case
	>You’re too focused on Wingie right now to feel sickies, though
	>You just hope you can help

	---------------------------------------------------

	You are Anon, yet again. And, luckily for you, Rob agreed to bring over Rex for a little plan you had to help Runtyshy with her shots.

	After ten, long minutes of waiting – well, ten minutes isn’t exactly long, but hearing Runtyshy bawl her eyes out in your lap seems to make time crawl. Seconds seemingly tuen into minutes, and absolutely nothing you do seems to calm her down. Promises of everything being alright, to bargaining with new toys, and even just a simple show of care by petting her while she sobs only either makes things worse or does nothing at all, the doorbell rings.

	“Thank God.”

	You gently place the still weeping Runtyshy down on the carpet, just in front of your chair, and stride over to the door, where Rob and Rex are patiently waiting outside.

	Rob greets you with a quick “hello” before practically shoving Rex into your arms, but, before he leaves, he says that he’ll be back in a few hours. Hopefully, it won’t take that long for you to get things sorted out, but holding out hope for anything at this point just seems a moot point.	 Damn, Rex is heavy for a fluffy pony. You place the lumbering mass of fluff down, and crouch down, looking him in the eyes.

	“Rob told you about why I needed you here today, right?”

	Rex ignores your question, and looks over into your living room, where Runtyshy’s howls are echoing from. He turns back to you, a look of pity in his eyes.

	“Why Wingie cwy?”

	“I guess that’s the part Rob didn’t explain to you, then.”

	You slump against the wall, and slide down it, until your completely sitting down. Motioning for Rex to come over, you pat his head as you speak.

	“Wingie isn’t doing too well. She’s got…bad sickies. Very, very bad sickies. As in, she’ll take-the-forever-sleepies-bad sickies.”

	Rex looks down at the floor, and mutters a simple, yet poignant sentence.

	“Nu wan’ Wingie haf fuhevah sweepies.”

	“Yeah, neither do I. And that’s why I asked for you to come over today. See, I need you to help me.”

	Rex’s ears perk up, and he looks at you, a new sense of determination seemingly emanating from him.

	“How Wex hewp Wingie?”

	“Wingie has these special shots that she has to take. They make her a lot better, and they’ll stop her from taking the forever sleepies. The problem is, they make her sick. Not sick enough to take the forever sleepies, but sick. She has bad poopies, and her stomach and head hurt a lot. But, she doesn’t understand that the shots will stop the forever sleepies, just that they make her sick. You get that, right?”

	“Mm-hmm.”

	“You’re pretty smart. I actually thought I’d have to explain that one a bit more.”

	“Wingie gon’ take fuhevah sweepies. But Wingie haf shaws dat mai her nu take fuhevah sweepies, but shaws mai Wingie sickies. Buh sickies nu is bad as fuhevah sweepies.”

	God damn, a fluffy that understands the concept of the greater good. That’s probably one of the last things you’d expect to see, right after pigs learning how to fly.

	“Exactly. So here’s where you come in: I need you to tell Wingie that the shots are good for her. She doesn’t believe me, or she doesn’t understand me, one or the other. I need you to do that for me.”

	“Otay.”

	“Any questions?”

	“Nu.”

	“Alright, Rex. This means a lot to me. Thanks.”

	You give him a reassuring pat on his head, and he rushes off into the living room.

	--------------------------------------------------

	>You are Rex, and you need to help Wingie.
	>Anon said that you need to help Wingie take her shots, whatever those are
	>All you know is that they’re gonna stop Wingie from taking the forever sleepies, and WIngie doesn’t want them
	>So you need to show her that they’re good for her
	>But you don’t have a clue how
	>”Wingie!”
	>Wingie is sitting on a big, cushy couch, just barely out of your reach
	>She looks up at the sound of your voice, and her crying slows, but you can’t get to her!
	>How are you gonna help her?
	>Right at that moment, Anon walks in, and Wingie starts crying again
	>Anon picks you up and plops you down next to Wingie, and quickly leaves the room
	>Wingie smiles up at you, but she’s still crying a bit
	>You give her a really big huggie, and she pulls away
	>”Ouchies.”
	>Ouchies? Huggies give her ouchies?
	>Oh no! That must be one of the hurty things that the shots cause!
	>Not getting huggies is sad, but the forever sleepies are even sadder!
	>How are you going to tell Wingie that?
	>”Wingie.”
	>Wingie looks up at you, saddie water still in her eyes
	>You wipe it away and smile at her
	>”Wingie nee’ wisten Wex.”
	>Wingie stares at you
	>”Wingie nee’ shaws, ow Wingie haf fuhevah sweepies.”
	>Her eyes widen at the mention of the shots, and the begins to shout
	>”Nu! Nu! Ouchies!”
	>She chirps a whole bunch of times and begins to cry
	>That didn’t work at all!
	>And now you’re feeling sad, too
	>You give Wingie another hug, gentler this time, and try a second time
	>”Wingie gud babbeh. Wex nu wan’ Wingie haf fuhevah sweepies.”
	>She cries a bit more, but very slowly stops
	>”Wex wuv Wingie. Wingie nee’ shaws.”
	>Wingie whips around, and gives you a really, really big huggie, even though it gives her ouchies
	>You return the hug, and put her on your back
	>”Wingie nee’ shaws, ow Wex haf big saddies. Wex wuv Wingie. Nu wan’ Wingie haf fuhevah sweepies.”
	>The message finally seems to start sinking in, and a look of wonder spreads across her face
	>”Wuh…wuhhh…”
	>”Wingie? Wha’ wong?”
	>”Wuv! Wuv!”
	>Wingie loves you?
	>Saddie water starts happening in your eyes, but you’re not sad at all!
	>You’re happy!
	>So why do you have the saddie water?
	>You ignore it, and smile up at Wingie
	>”Wex wuv Wingie.”
	>And, with that, you trot back over to Anon

	--------------------------------------------------------------

	Hot damn, he actually did it. He actually managed to convince Runtyshy that the shots were good for her.

	Naturally, as soon as he came out to you with the good news, you whipped him and Runtyshy up a massive pot of spaghetti. You made a bit too much of the stuff, yeah, but you were pretty goddamned grateful that a fluffy pony managed to do your job better than you that you just unconsciously made an entire bag of the stuff for just two fluffies, one of which is a runt.

	As soon as the spaghetti finished boiling, and you drained it all out and portioned it into the two fluffies’ bowls, the doorbell rang yet again. Sure enough, it was Rob, ready to pick up Rex.

	“Hey, Rob. Wanna hang around for a minute? I just made some spaghetti for Rex, since he did his job perfectly.”

	“Seriously? Damn, Rex! I’m proud of you!”

	Rob gives Rex a scratch behind the ears, and Rex graciously accepts it.

	“But, no, I need to go. There’s a lot of errands and stuff that I need to run. Can I just take his spaghetti, though? Wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

	You begin to hand the bowl off to Rob, but you notice a really weird look on Rex’s face. Doubt, almost. Ignoring it, you pass the spaghetti off to Rob, and he begins to head out the door.

	“Alright, Rex. Let’s go.”

	Rex begins to follow, but he abruptly stops, and turns back to look at you. No, not at you. Past you. At Runtyshy.

	“Rex? What’s wrong, buddy?”

	Rex stares Rob right in the eyes, with a gaze of both confidence and worry.

	“Wingie nee’ Wex.”

	Both you and Rob practically do a double take, and it ends with the two of you looking at each other and back to Rex. At least Rob looks as baffled as you feel. You decide to break the short silence.

	“What do you mean by that?”

	“Wex hewp Wingie. Wex wuv Wingie, an’ WIngie wuv Wex. Wex nee’ hewp Wingie wif moah shaws, hewp Wingie feew happy. Nu saddies.”

	For a fluffy pony, his points are at least poignant. He’s the only reason that Runtyshy seems to be alright with taking shots and giving hugs by now. Besides, you’ve only seen her at her happiest when she’s with him. While she still obviously loves you, she clearly feels the same about Rex.

	“He’s right, Anon.”

	“Yeah. Yeah, he his. But he needs to go home with you. We could schedule another playdate sooner than we’d usually schedule, but-“

	“Keep him.”

	“…What?”

	“Anon. Fluffyshy clearly needs him. I’m not gonna hurt both him and her by taking him home with me. Besides, I think I’m allergic to him.”

	Rob gives you a grin on the last line, indicating the allergy joke, but you can tell that he’s being sincere about him staying with you and Runtyshy.

	“Whoa, Rob. I couldn’t do that to the two of you. That’s just selfish.”

	“You taking the two of them in wouldn’t be selfish at all. It’d be beneficial, if anything. The two of them need each other, Rex said it himself.”

	You turn to Rex, and you can swear that he practically nods at you. Runtyshy is fast asleep on the counter, like she always is. But she’s smiling in her sleep. The last time you saw that, Rex was over. And here it is again, right as soon as Rex is ready to leave.

	“Alright, Rob. I’ll do it.”

	“Good on ya, Anon. He’s a good fluffy, alright? Just be sure to give him double portions, he kinda needs ‘em.”

	“Damn straight, man.”

	Rob heads on out, the bowl of spaghetti still in his hand. Ah, what the hell, you have enough to spare.

	“Well, Rex. Guess I’m you’re new daddy.”

	Rex sort of shakes his head at you.

	“Alright, just ‘Anon’ is fine.”

	“Sketties now?”

	“Yeah, it’s about time for sketties.”

	---------------------------------------------------

	You’re still Anon, and a year has passed since you took Rex in.

	And holy shit, did you not expect everything to turn out as well as it did.

	To start things off, the shots worked wonders. Runtyshy, while still fairly small, has at least quadrupled in size from her original golf ball size, and the rest of her body managed to catch up to the rest of her. While the side effects persisted all throughout the injections, Rex was always there to help cheer her up with affirmations of affection and hugs, which Runtyshy was more than happy to return.

	Speaking of Rex, the big bruiser actually did manage to teach Runtyshy a big of a vocabulary. Again, it is kind of lacking compared to other fluffy ponies, but this is a lot more than you could have ever expected her to learn. Rex was pretty damn proud of himself the day he taught her how to speak in full sentences.

	You were damn proud of the two of them that day, as well. The memory makes you smile, and you get up from your chair to address the currently snuggling fluffy ponies.

	“Fluffyshy! Rex! Do you know what today is?”

	Runtyshy groggily looks up at you, but she smiles.

	“Fwuffysii haf huggies?”

	“Of course, but first, you have to guess what day it is today!”

	“...Huggies day?”

	“No, silly. Today is the day that Rex moved in with me and you!”

	Rex hops to his feet, and grins up at you.

	“Sketties?”

	“Bingo. We’re gonna celebrate with spaghetti!”

	The two fluffies let out a simultaneous cheer of “sketties”, and you head on over to you stove to start boiling the water.

	In the beginning, when you first got Runtyshy, you said you would try your hardest to give her a happy life.

	And goddamn, did you ever succeed.