Part 3: Stubbornness
Part 3: Stubbornness
The smarty manages to behave himself for about 15 minutes. Following your deft administration of the sorry stick, he’s sulky, but well behaved, pottering about the room muttering “Mus’ be gud su can haf toysies” with an expression of great concentration. The boredom however, quickly sets in. At the 15 minute mark, he’s right back his old self.
“DUMMEH DADDEH! GIF SMAWTY TOYSIES NAO OW SMAWTY GIF SOWWY POOPIES!” You can’t help but groan in frustration; what a fucking idiot. You grab a slightly thicker sorry stick and advance on him, resulting in him promptly shitting himself in terror. He backs away in panic, slipping on his own shit and landing heavilly in the puddle, but still trys to scrabble backwards. “Pwease nu mowe sowwy stick hewties. Fwuffy am sowwy, nu be smawty nu mowe… huu huu huuu…”
Once you’re within range, you deliver a hard blow with the stick directly to his snout, splitting his septum open. “SCREEEEEEE! WOWST NOSIE hewtIES!” You don’t allow him a moment to recover before landing another lash in the exact same place. “SCREEEEEEEE! SCREEEEEEEEEEEE!” The smarty wails in pain, blood dripping from his nose, and tears streaming from his eyes. He makes a move to cover his snout with his legs, but you quickly whip the soft pads he calls his hooves one after the other. “SCREEEEE! HOOFSIES!” He tucks his legs hunder him in panic. “Wai daddeh su meanie?” He sniffles. “You don’t want to get your poopies in your wounds. You’ll get forever sleepies.”
“Nu wan fowevah sweepies…”
Sighing in frustration, you pick up the quivering fluffy and deposit him in the sink. “Wai put fwuffy in sinkie?” You answer his question by dousing him with water. “NUUUUU! WAWA AM BAD FOW FWUFFIES!” You ignore his protests, and use the attached sprayer to blast all the built up shit out of his fur. You can’t believe how much shit he’s generated in an hour.
By the time he’s clean, the smarty is crying even harder, occasionally chirping in distress. “Huu huu huuu… nu wan wawa… chirp chirp… huu huuu… meanie daddeh…” Once he’s clean enough, you carry him over to a small wire cage, partially covered by a thick blanket. The dripping, shivering smarty immediately recognises it for what it is. “NUUUUU! NU WAN SOWWY BAWKS! PWEASE DADDEH!”
You shove him into the box, and cover it the rest of the way, plunging the wailing fluffy into the total darkness. “NUUUUUU! BABBEH AM SCAWED OF DAWK! PWEASE NU MOWE SOWWY BOX! HUUU HUUU HUUUUUUU” The box rattles about slightly as the smarty panics, throwing himself against the sides of the cage. “NU WAN SOWWY BAWKS! NU WAN! NU WAN! NU WAN! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
After about five minutes, he settles down to a steady stream of “Huu huu huuu… nu wike… nu wike…” So you head off to the breakroom for a coffee while you have some downtime. You return after an hour or so to “Huu huu huuu… cheep… huuu…” You lift the blanket off, and open the door, and the fluffy comes barelling out. “OUTSIES! HOOWAY! NU MOWE SOWWY BAWKS FOW SMAWTY!” He runs around in happy circles while you groan inwardly. It’s definitely time to change up your tactics.
You wait for the smarty to come within range, and then roughly grab him by the scruff, lifiting him up. “Bad upsies!” He squeals, his stumpy legs wiggling uselessly in the air. You hold him in front of your face while he struggles feebly. Any other fluffy would be whimpering and apologising randomly by now. The syndrome has really set in with this one.
“What did I tell you about the ‘smarty’ stuff?”
“Smawty nu cawe! Meanie daddeh gif sowwy stick and dawk sowwy bawks! Smawty du wha’ smawty wan!” You glare at him, but he remains defiant.
“Well, you’re obviously not learning the easy way, so we’ll have to do this the hard way.” You set him down on a counter roughly. “I’m going to start taking things from you now.”
“Smawty haf nuffin tu take. Meanie poopie daddeh nu gif toysies.” You smile sweetly.
“Oh but you do.”
With a gloved hand, you firmly grip one of his blunt teeth, and with a sharp twist, wrench it from his jaw. His eyes bulge in shock and agony. “SCREEEEEEEEE! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE! NUUUUUUUU! NEED TOOFIE FOW NUMMIES!” He struggles under your grip, but is powerless to escape.
“Let that be a warning to you. Next time you act like a smarty, call yourself a smarty, anything/[i] I don’t like, I’ll take something else you’ll miss even more.”
“Huu huu huuu… meanie daddeh…”
“That’s enough of the name-calling too. You [i]will learn to behave.”
You set him down on the ground to sulk, and take some more notes.
Unsurprisingly, the smarty is undeterred by standard punishment methods. Administration of the sorry stick using Pattern F-9 only served to quell his behaviour for a time, and confinement to a blackout sorry box seems to do nothing but upset him. It serves no purpose as a punishment tool, except for the possible catharsis of the owner. More severe methods will need to be investigated, beginning with a tooth extraction.
In the few minutes it takes you to tap that out on your phone, the smarty has remained quiet, except for faint snuffling. You decide to engage him. “You behaving down there?”
“Huu… babbeh wan mummah… haf wowst moufie hewties… huuu…” Hmm. That’s out of character.
“Well, you can make sure that’s the end of it. It all depends on your behaviour. My offer still stands. Be good for an hour, you get a toy.”
“Huu huu… babbeh wan toysies… babbeh be gud fwuffy… huuu”
Predictably however, this lasts about 20 minutes. You don’t even hear him coming before the smarty sprays your legs with a veritable torrent of feces. Where does that much shit even come from? “Smawty gif meanie daddeh sowwy poopies! Now gif smawty nummies an toysies ow gif biggest hewties!”
You exhale slowly as you feel the shit seeping through your pants-leg. Glaring at the fluffy, you mechanically stand up, and set your phone down, your movements deliberate and measured. You slowly look down at him, his cheeks puffed, and when he seems your face, he seems to slowly deflate. “N… nu hewt fwuffy…”
“I gave you plenty of warning, fluffy. You can’t even behave for one hour. You need to be punished.”
He tries to run, but you grab his tail and lift him up by it, prompting a “Nuuu! Bad upsies! Taiw hewties!” You silence him with a swift punch the belly, which both winds him and sends him swinging back and forth wildly. “Huuu… nu…. Can…. bweafe…” You set the gasping fluffy down on the workbench, and from a cupboard procure a carbon-fiber “X” with built-in restraints. You slam it down next to the whimpering creature before you roughly flip him over and fasten the restraints around his ankles and throat..
He’s begun to catch his breath, but the total immobilisation, combined with the tighter-than-necessary application of the neck-restraint, it takes a while before he can speak. “Pwease… fwuffy am sowwy… pwease nu hewties. Nu be smawty nu mowe, fwuffy pwomise.”
You sigh in frustration. “I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve said that to me today. No, I need to teach you a lesson that will stick.”
“So let’s consider your sins today, fluffy. First of all, you made bad poopies before I even got here.”
“Huuu… fwuffy am sowwy fow bad poppies…”
“No you’re not. Not yet.” You open a shelf on the workbench, and remove a small firecracker. They’re meant for frightening fluffies to help with toilet training, but you have a better idea. The smarty screams as you ease the little red stick into his arse.
“NUUUUUU! POOPIE PWACE FOW POOPIES! TINGS NOT S’POSED GU IN!” You flicker a lighter to life. “NUUUU! FIWE BAD FOW FWUFFIES!” He struggles deperately against the restraints as you light the fuse, and take a few steps back.
BANG. “SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” The smarty’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he shrieks in agony, his charred rectum dripping blood. “WAI WOUD NOISE GIF WOWST POOPIE PWACE HEWTIES!”
You wait for the screaming to stop. “Then, you tried to give me sorry poopies.” You strike the lighter again, this time holding the flame directly to his bleeding hole. “BUWNIES! SCREEEEEEEE! CHEEP CHEEP! SCREEEEEEEEEEEE!” You wait until his scream have been reduced to a miserable “Peep! Peep!” and retract the flame from his blistered, blacked rectum. He chirps and peeps for a little longer before returning to “Huu huu huuu… pwease nu mowe hewties…”
“Then, you tried to give me sorry hoofsies.” You raise a scalpel from the drawer, and his eyes bulge at the sight of it.
“NUUUU! NU SHAWP HEWTIES! PWEASE! FWUFFY AM SOWWY!” You respond by dipping the blade into the soft leather around one of his foot-pads. He really begins screaming when you start tracing all the way around. “SCREEEEEEEEE! HOOFSIE HAF WOWSTEST HEWTIES!”
Then the next one. “SCREEEEEEEEE! SCREEEEEEEEEEE! NU MOWE HOOFSIE HEWTIES! SCREEEEEEE!” By the time you’re on the third, he’s reduced to “CHEEEEP! CHIRP! CHEEEEEEEEP! PEEP! MUMMAH!” And the fourth reduces him once more to infantile peeping.
You wait patiently for him to settle down. “Huu huu huuuu… pwease nu mowe. Am onwy widdl-SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” His small frame shudders in desperate suffering as you rip one of his hooves off like bandaid, exposing the sensitive, nerve-rich flesh beneath. As you peel off each of the other three hooves, his screeching and chirping becomes more and more desperate, and higher and higher in pitch.
About 5 minutes after the de-hoofing, he’s back to sobbing. “Huuu huuu huuu… fwuffy su sowwy… nu be bad fwuffy nu mowe… huuuuuuu....”
“And if I recall, you just gave me sorry poopies.”
“NUUUUUUUUU HUUUUU HUUUUUU! NU MOWE POOPIE PWACE OWWIES! FWUFFY DU ANYFING! PWEASE DADDEH! HUUUU HUUUUU HUUUUUU”
“Don’t worry fluffy, if I hurt your poopie place more, it’ll be my fault if you make bad poopies.”
He sniffles. “Nu wan make bad poopies…”
“So I’ll just do this instead” Like a striking snake, you fasten a heavy-duty bulldog clip to him, directly on one of his testicles. “SCREEEEEEEEEEEE! SPESHUL WUMP! SCREEEEEEEE! CHIRP! CHIRP! MUMMAH HEWP BABBEH! SCREEEEEEEEEEEE!”
While he shrieks, you clamp another to the end of his member, sealing it, and prompting redoubled shrieking. “NUUUUU! SCREEEEEEEE! NU-NU STICK OWIES! SCREEEEEEEEE!” Finally, you gently ease a fluffy-sized plug into his abused anus, but the torturous pain on his gonads seems to take precedence. “PWEASE NU MOWE SPESHUL PWACE HEWTIES! SCREEEEEEEEEEEE!” You follow this my spritzing some vinegar onto each of his “hooves”
“PEEP! PEEP! MUMMAH! HUU HUUU HUUUU….” As he peeps and chirps, you lift up the fluffy, restraints and all, and maneuver him awkwardly into the sorry-box, covering it with the blanket again. “NU! SCREEEEEE! DAWKIES! HEWTIES! PWEASE NU! CHEEP CHEEP!” You make grab your phone, and make way for the door.
“See you tomorrow.”