First time writing on the diary. Here we are. BittybonesAU, timeline 5555 aka S for short. Looks like a stupid PIN code anyway. Third Angel at the task, the other two weren't up to the mission and ended up killed. I'm not really up to die so I'll do better.
For short, I'm here for business. I'm under a Nightmare's command, -whom I totally not plan to overthrone one day or another-, meant to establish relations with other forces in the Multiverse. Neat, uh?
Would be if the main task weren't selling dumb rodents to other AUs and anomalies.
Heh.
So welcome one, welcome all! Here at Angel's Little Business, we got all kind of bitties for your mad scientist taste -I see you, Sciencefell- or your nice lunch with pals -Horrortale is one of our best customers!-. We also sell bittys for company purpose but let's say that's downright less interesting. We got some Nightmares in our clients that have a thing for nurtering on bad feeling by torturing the critters, though.
Despite the job being lame, I must say making powerful contacts here and there will be useful for myself. Keeping those in the pocket.
My boss, Nocturne, and my departed former selves from other timelines lend me the timeline S on a plate- main human and monster gangs relies on me for money, the bittys breeding and fighting rings being their main source of income and Raziel, the Starlight of the dumb cult that has spawn, basically eats in my hand, sending as a peace offering his share of feral pest.
Yup. Life's easy. Life's good. How things could go bad? Nah. They won't... Won't they?
...
Behind the curtain: So. I may or may not be starting a bittybones abuse blog? English's not my birth language tho so please forgive me, it'll be clumsy. Angel is quite forward as a character too. Please stay outside if you're sensitive, things are not going to be clean. Some parts will feature the past of my bittys OCs so there won't always be killing but there will be gruesome maiming, yep. Hope you enjoy?
Behind the curtain: Wooops we had a coding glitch! So sorry, here’s the corrected version! There’s no trigger warning for this part, but there will be for the next one! Please don’t get too attached to the characters.
...
« Please don’t give me away! I’ll be a good bitty! Better! » He flails, hits the ground with his feets in his tantrum. His owner raises an eyebrow, his eyes lasting on the being, he seems to doubt... But no.
The pet creature was a cancer since day one. To the never-ending wailing had added hidden orders, reflexions and comments... Critics. On the way he was living, his way of clothing himself, the hour he was waking up on week-ends! He had took that baby blue as a good deed, since one of his friend was moving in where they weren’t allowed. But now? This good deed had been drown by months of hard feelings about this thing, high as two berrys but so irritating. Putting a flyer down in front of the bitty, the baby blue could clearly hear his owner tell…
« I’m bringing you where they will take care of you to your worth. » Blue was forced to take a few step back as the blow of the flyer nearly knocked him out of his feet. He bends to the paper, tries to read.
« Beaux Cieux Breeding ? » Stutters Blue, raising a questionning face to his human.
« You’ll end your days as a stallion. » His owner giggles. « I’m nearly jealous. »
...
The silence clearly didn’t came to the rendez-vous during the whole car ride. The pleading becomes thumping. Blue now yells to be heard, soiling the poor hamster cage he was carried away with tears and other colored fluids.
« HUMAN DON’T DO THAT !! » He bawls. « THIS IS THE WORST DECISION OF YOUR LIFE !! » The said human turns higher the radio volume but the screamings won’t stop anyway. What follows of the speech is the same refrain. ‘Not that you’re used to take good decisions ! / you’re gonna regret me / I’m your bitty and I love you ! / bring me home, I know you love me too !’. When Blue ends up understanding that he won’t have any answers, his words melt into a high-pitching wailing. The crys go on and on until the car stops in front of an adorable little farm, all that picturesque. At twenty minutes from town, the air there is pur. Half-feral cats hang out in the courtyard, rubbing themselves to the human legs as he slaps close his car’s door. This one used to be brand new, once there was a time, before that Blue idiot had this idea that a turquoise color will better fit a vehicule of his ‘magnificence’... And starts to repaint it with a colored pencil. The horrid cracks on his car painting would have finished convincing the human that his choice was for the best, if he had doubted it only a little.
« Welcome ! » A young girl, maybe forteen, comes running. Her full face and her lively eyes bring a smile to the human.
« Thanks! Are your parents here ? » He asks, this barely audible, drown by the bitty cries that came back stronger. The girl raises her shoulders.
« They’re busy. But they told me to take the bitty. You’re the person we had on the phone? » The human uses a small time to bring himself back together.
« Oh. Yes. Here’s Blue. Here... » He hands the cage and the girl takes it with a whole particular caution. The human goes away, missing by a second the glance of malice living in the girl’s eyes.
« So, Blue, we’re a lil grumpy? » She let away, gaining a truce in the cries. Blue raises his huge wet eyesockets to the teen. « Name’s Jessica and, you’ll see, you’ll have such a blast, here ! » Taking no care to the cats swarming to her feets whom were interested in the small rodent, she walks toward a small barn, a little far from the main house. Blue clumsily walks to the front of his cage, his cute lil hands holding the bars.
« You’re my new mommy ? » He ask, a shiver in his voice. Jessica softly laughs.
« Whatever. » She breaths, ignoring the dumb face of the bitty, falling apart to such an answer. Putting the cage to the ground, so she can push with both of her hands a door way too heavy, Blue see agglutinating around him the felides, meowing of hunger as if he was a can of tuna.
« Er... Jessica? » Squeals the scared bitty. But nobody answers him excepted the heavy creaking of the wood door. At last, the door had given up and opens on a dumping ground drown in darkness. Blue doesn’t have any time to prepare himself before his cage is balancing again at the end of the young girl arms. She dumps it in a CLANK that can’t be unheard on something that had metal on it- another cage? Then she rubs her hands.
« You’ll be fine, here, until the chirurgy. » Blue frozes to such speaking. Chirurgy? But wasn’t it...
Why would he needs chirurgy?
« I’m not ill ! » The bitty defends himself. « Chirurgy, it’s for people who’re really ill! » He whines but that does nothing if not amusing the teen. She doesn’t bother answering and goes away, having the same struggle to close the door after her. Just before the outside light dims into a stray of light, Blue has the time to see one of the cat slithers into the barn.
« Hey ! »
Then, the nothingness. Or it was what he belived. But as his eardrums get used to the lack of stimulis, he ends up earing way weaker sounds. The noise of one- no, hundreads of breathings, harshs, terrified, brokens. Mad laughing and wailing melted and- oh, the meowing develishly high-pitched of the cat, prowling through the aisles. The aisles... He eyesockets grows used to the darkness. There’s rows and rows... Is that cages? Blue let away a chocked breath.
« IS THERE SOMETHING HERE? » Yells the baby blue. He stands surprised not to have any answers and insists. « Please ! » The last word, a weak pleading.
« Shut the fuck up. » The blue’s eyesockets grows bigger.
« LANGUAGE !! » He spats, a reflex of when he was at the adoption center. One cage down, the red eyelights of what seems to be an edgy become sharper. He stares the maybe ennemi for a time before understanding what’s in front of his eyes.
« A baby blue. Tch. As if I needed that. » The voice sounds clear. The edgy have several months less than the baby blue.
« A JUNIOR! ALL FOR THE BETTER! MY MAGNIFICENT EXEMPLE WILL- »
« I don’t think that’s the time for that’. » White pupils shining in the cage in front of his calmly answer. Blue hesitates for a moment. A... Sansy ? « Just do what he says, we don’t really have the soul to have a chat. »
« Nonsense ! » Complains the little Blue. « I just arrived and I need answers ! » Useless to say that the tiny creature is deeply insulted. « At what time do we have a snack, here ? » There’s a silence, then the frenetical laughter of the edgy. Blue frowns. Did he... Missed snack time? It was so villain to laugh at him...! « Good, and what are we doing here? » He carrys on, a little less brave. « Oh, it’s for a birthday surprise, it is it? » His excited voice suddenly slips to the idea. « We are the gifts, aren’t we? » To whom will they be gifted? To a child who would play with them all day long? To a sweet human girl who would love cuddles? Or even to a monster, Blue wasn’t difficult! As long as the person would be willing to let them sleep in the bed...
« Fuck... » Laughs the red one. « I tell him ? »
« No ! » Yells the sansy in a panic. « Let him in his world. For now... » It was better to keep the eyesockets closed. It will always be time to stress out to the bone later one... But the edgy didn’t seem to want to hear such an answer. With a cruel smile, he blurted out.
« Eh, dumb-face... Look what’s over yout head! »
« UH ?? » Blue raises his face without thinking, suddenly noticing a glimpse of silver light hanging on the ceiling.
« It’s the ‘chirurgy chain’. » Continues the edgy, a sadistic tone ringing in his voice. « The shiny thingy, it’s a butcher hook~ >> He soft talks, exctatic, despite the whimperings of the sansy, trying his best to make him shut up. Blue’s bones grow paler as he registers the words.
« Ha... Haha? » He answers back. « YOU GOT ME WELL, EDGY, BUT I DID NOT FALL FOR THAT! THERE’S AN END TO ALL BAD JOKES! »
EDIT: I just wanted to make sure I gave credit to bitesized-degeneracy for posting this originally, I was hesitant to post at first because I’m not a big fan of tumblr, but it didnt take much for me to be convinced to make a blog.
This is a whump story, read the tags and don’t read if you don’t like it.
There is an alternate ending to this that I wanted to post, I only gave this one an ending so I could end it if I didn't have the inspiration to continue. Turns out I did have the inspiration and wrote the other ending.
!!!WARNING!!! READ TAGS BEFORE READING. BITTY TORTURE. DONT LIKE DON’T READ.
“Through a stroke of luck you’ve come into possession of pregnant pygmy bitty. Now all you have to do is put up with his misbehavior until he gives birth.”
“Thank you for taking him in, I just couldn’t handle him anymore.” The guilty face of the middle aged woman gave you pause. You felt slightly bad for her, after all, the snivelling pygmy in your arms, simply would not stop crying out to her.
“Mommy please, I’m sorry, I know I’m a bad bitty but I love you so much!” It cried, its swollen pregnant belly adding an extra layer of tragedy to this. The woman gave the bitty an exasperated, helpless look.
“Don’t cry Bud. This woman right here will take good care of you. She’s agreed to be your new mommy.” She started holding out a finger to wipe away “Bud’s” tears.
The bitty violently shook his head crying out. “No mommy please I’ll be a good bitty I promise!!!” The response was typical, a common phrase that the woman had no doubt heard a million times. Bitties tended to have a very limited amount of phrases that they shot out at times like this, “Bud’s” being the most common.
An exasperated sigh escaped from the woman's lips. She couldn't help but to turn her back away from the bitty her shoulders slumping into defeat. Instead of letting this charade continue on, you placed the pregnant bitty into a small house.. “Don't worry Bud, I’ll take good care of you.” You assured the bitty, giving it a charming smile as you closed and locked the door, effectively sealing him in.
Turning back to the woman you continued your conversation. “It’s not a problem, I know how expensive pregnant bitties are. Let alone ones who misbehave as much as Bud. But I can guarantee that he’ll be taken care of while here.” You smiled, placing a hand on the poor woman’s shoulder as you led her to the door.
The woman let out a relieved sigh as soon as the lamia bitty was safely locked away. A few hours before the lamia had managed to slither its way into her purse before she left, causing her to come back an extra time. “Really I can’t thank you enough. My son just couldn’t handle him, with his pranks, his escapes, and whenever he would have his heats he would just say and do the worst things to my son.” She shuddered at the mention of the pygmy’s heat before continuing. “I just couldn’t let him be around my son for any longer. Then when he got pregnant.. Really it was just the last straw.” Shaking her head she smiled one last time at you before finishing. “But anyways I need to get to work, his little escape has already made me late. Goodbye.” She waved allowing you to say a quick goodbye before hurrying out the door. Leaving you alone with the cries of a pregnant pygmy.
As soon as the middle aged woman left you closed the door behind you, and glanced back at the bitty house the sounds of cries were coming from. From what the woman had been telling you earlier, this bitty was in serious need of training. Especially for during its heats.
The bitty in question was a stray, found by the woman's son during a storm. He was trapped inside of a plastic Tupperware container slowly filling with water. It had been holding on for dear life before being found. Apparently it had been abandoned, with useless, and slut scratched onto the container. Showing just how much it had angered the previous owner.
However despite having had a previous owner, the bitty in question was also quite disloyal. Quickly latching onto the son as his new “daddy”, while also having quite the proclivity to switch its love between the mother and son.
The most troubling part however was how it projected its sexual attention onto the son, constantly saying wildly inappropriate things to the son before, during, and after its heats. Humping, pleas for sex, and even attempting to wiggle its way towards the sons pants during these times not at all uncommon. During its last heat the mother had been so disgusted with “Bud’s” behavior that she had thrown him out the window during the night. Which had resulted in the bitty’s pregnant status.
Sighing to yourself you approached the bitty house, unlatching the door and giving the lamia a calculating look.
The clothes the bitty wore were stained with various things, mostly makeup that he’d apparently gotten into while inside the woman’s purse. The woman had commented on how expensive her makeup was, and just how much she would have to replace because of him, she also lamented on the loss of her bag, which had previously been white, but was now stained from the inside out with various hues of red and black. She hadn't been happy after reaching work to discover Bud had not only stowed away in her bag, but also tried to make himself “pretty” in an attempt to change mommy’s mind. His so called attempt to make himself pretty involved drawing flowers on his skull and tail in rouge, scribbling eyeliner onto the rims of his eye sockets, and staining his teeth and clothes in lipstick. The clothes in question that he’d ruined were actually rather nice, having previously been a nice white button up shirt with a cute blue bow tie in place of his signature blue handkerchief.
In addition there was also a rather disproportionate puddle of blue tears staining the floor of the bitty house. The floor was made out of smooth stone specifically for this type of situation. Many bitties found their way into your home, always in some state of distress, but you were nothing if not prepared. Reaching in with your gloved hand you gently picked up the pygmy, noting wryly to yourself the strange look it sent your way.
“You’re my new mommy?” It asked, showing its rather disloyal nature once again. You knew that you’d have to fix that little problem, and honestly it was something that would have to be done towards the end of your training.
You were a professional bitty trainer, your methods were “unique,” but also extremely effective. You took full advantage of the manufactured origin of bitties with your training. That didn't mean however that you were happy with just how much work Bud was going to be.
The history of bitties was actually rather unique, they had started out as a manufactured products, ones that had ended up as little more than a fad, and quickly fizzled out. The manufacturers of bitties had very quickly discontinued the product as liabilities of many bitties classified as more of a “protection” variety had been advertised very poorly, resulting in many unsuspecting families adopting dangerous bitties like pure bites, edgies, errors, and even poisonous varieties of lamia’s. There were very few disclaimers, and the company had been under the mistaken assumption that families would understand that the “protection” bitties were simply not meant to be family pets.
After a disastrous wave of accidents, maulings, and even deaths at the hands of the protection variety bitty, the company found itself drowned in lawsuits. It very quickly was forced to declare bankruptcy before simply imploding from within and going out of business.
The bitties themselves were expected to completely disappear outside of niche communities who had managed to get a hold of the manufacturing process of the bitties, but as is the nature of products created by magic, the bitties surprisingly after about 5 years developed the ability to reproduce.
At first it was more of an asexual reproduction, but soon later generations of bitties developed the ability to reproduce sexually, developing heats, ectoplasmic genitals, and creating larger amounts of offspring than asexual reproduction could yield. Many studies dedicated to this anomaly were launched only to yield the same unsatisfying result. Magic is weird.
Despite the evolution of bitties however they still retained their “manufactured” traits. Their fierce dependency on caretakers had remained, their infantile and limited cognitive abilities, along with their seeming inability to stray from specific personalities that the original bitties were programmed with. Their newly formed ability to reproduce had caused quite the stir, and their numbers climbed to staggering rates, flooding the streets, and overrunning animal shelters. Soon they became one of the most common household pets with many stores from the original fad reopening to sell dedicated bitty products. Their quick evolution sparked a fierce debate as to whether or not they had basic human rights, however their childish nature and dependency remained the biggest obstacle for such rights.
Either way you made your money from breeding and training bitties for more specialized positions, seeing eye bitties were sorely needed, and you very specifically offered special deals for disabled children of struggling families. You yourself previously had a beloved Chain bitty that went with you everywhere. Bitties were some of the easiest to train simply taking advantage of the “programmable” nature of bitties to made the process easiest.
As for your interest in Bud, despite the fact that bitties could reproduce now, it was still rather difficult to find one that could reproduce in captivity. Which was why this new bitty was so interesting to you. It looked as if his clutch would be one of the biggest you’d ever seen, furthermore this was his first.
Grinning down at the pregnant lamia you brought him closer to you. “Yes, I’m your new mommy.” You stated a genuine loving smile gracing your lips, watching as the lamia’s eyes widened in wonder. Quickly the sniveling pygmy erupted into chatter, tears no longer streaming down its face. You listened to his mindless chatter, stunned by how quickly it had gotten over his previous “mommy.” You’d been prepared to spend a long time bonding with him in an attempt to form at least some trust.
“You’re not upset anymore?” You asked carefully, taking your hand and moving the lamia’s skull in your hand and moving it side to side to examine the flowers on his skull.
A sad look crossed the baby blues face “I’m still sad, but I know you’ll take care of me. After all, I am the greatest. Mwehehe.” He laughed, looking at you confidently.
Shaking your head in disbelief at the pygmy’s answer you started walking towards the bathroom, making a decision to get the pregnant lamia cleaned up before continuing. You continued asking the pygmy simple questions, such as what his favorite food was, his favorite music, what he liked to read. Unsurprisingly many of the questions were the standard pygmy responses, the same answers you’d heard from countless pygmies.
His excited chatter didn't stop at all, and you really weren't the talking type so you let him speak, while you cleaned him up. Although your annoyance at the repeated phrase of “Mwehehe” grew as the bath went on.
After the little guys bath you didn't immediately give him clothes, you had to search for clothes that would fit his pregnant frame, the size of this lamia’s clutch was decidedly incredibly huge simply due to the fact that it was even distending his belly and not just limiting itself to his tail. You really couldn't wait for him to give birth to his clutch, after all properly trained lamia bitties were worth quite a pretty penny. Furthermore it was clear that you would have to wait to start the baby blue’s training after he gave birth.
However many problems arose after the first greeting, ones that you’d never had with previous pygmies.
You thought that you could let him roam for a bit to get used to his new surroundings, but quickly it became apparent “just” how misbehaved this bitty was.
He did not stop talking, not an entirely unusual trait for pygmies, but he always spoke over you, interrupting your sentences when you did decide to speak, and getting upset if you talked for even a little bit longer than normal. You corrected him a lot, scolding him for interrupting you, and giving him time outs when he refused to stop. However none of it seemed to help, and unfortunately corporal punishment was simply off the table as long as he was pregnant.
He peed everywhere, really it was quite astonishing how resolute he was in “not” using the bitty toilet. You tried asking him why he didn't like using the toilet only to be given what the bitty thought was a “cute” laugh.
“Mwehehe. Awww, I didn't mean to mommy it was an accident!” Or “The bathrooms just so far away, carry me mommy!” And even. “But then I would have to stop having fun!”
Despite your best attempts at trying to convince Bud to use the bathroom in the bitty house, it became apparent that he simply enjoyed “marking” a trait typical of stray bitties.After about 5 days you ended up having to discard the bitty house you had for him, and instead moved him to an easily cleanable enclosure you usually kept baby bitties in. Which led to your next problems.
He threw tantrums. Phrases such as “MOMMY IS THE WORST!!!” or “I HATE YOU MOMMY!” and even “GIVE IT TO ME!” Were common.
He would throw himself onto the floor wailing and crying, and when you tried to approach to calm him down he would often bite, scratch, and hit you in his tantrums. He seemed to know just how much you were holding back on punishing him because of his pregnant status and seemed to take pleasure in pushing the boundaries of your tolerance.
Furthermore, he was an escape artist. If you had to leave for even a moment you would typically leave him with plenty of activities that he would enjoy, puzzles, coloring books, mini i-pads, and lots of books. In spite of this he seemed to find escaping to be the best puzzle and short of duct taping a lid over his enclosure would result in him finding a way to escape, usually to try and cause trouble in what he thought was a “cute” or “helpful” way. He would try and do your dishes, usually as an apology for throwing a tantrum, breaking most of them or using dangerous chemicals in cleaning. He would try and cook, usually setting something on fire as a result. He would draw all over books, using markers, and pens on books and ripping out pages to make hats and swords. Usually ones he would proudly give to you saying “Mommy I made this for you.” You found yourself having to hold back your anger in attempting to explain just how bad the things he was doing were, but he was incredibly petulant, refusing to admit mistakes and seeming to get stuck in a loop of typical responses.
He was a horrible prankster, or rather, his pranks were dangerous and destructive. He liked to set “traps” up that would oftentimes lead to nasty falls and deep cuts. He blubbered whenever he saw you get hurt, but would usually follow up with blaming you in childish petulant tones, rather than being sorry for setting up dangerous “pranks.”
There was even one instance in which he left you crying for a solid hour. He had somehow gotten a hold of your previous Chain bitties dust, and dumped it out the window, exclaiming proudly to himself. “Mwehehe! I’ve given him a proper funeral! You can rest easy Sir Clementine!”
Perhaps that instant is when you’d truly gotten fed up with him, as while you were crying into the empty urn he simply couldn't understand your grief and in response tried to be what he thought was “comforting.”
“Mwe, Mommy don’t be sad! It was bad to keep him in a jar! He had to be free!”
You’d managed to hold your anger and grief at that moment, but your resistance to him couldn't last for long, as after weeks of torment he finally did something that caused you to snap.
“Mommy! Drugs are bad, I got rid of them for you! Mwehehe” He exclaimed, grinning at your stunned look. Proudly leaning over the toilet as he flushed your medication. At least five bottles of medication with birth control packet littering the floor. Four of which bottles contained your medicine for a deadly congenital condition.
Your face paled as you saw the pills going down the drain, dread at how you might not make it through the week and anger at his incredibly thoughtless action. Your mind stalled and the proud grin of the pygmy seared itself into your mind. It was as if all the torment he’d subjected you to in the past 4 weeks came flooding back to you, the forefront of which was your beloved Chain bitties dust. You nearly bashed him into the door, before an icy calm feeling flooded your mind and suddenly a chilling plan flew into your mind.
“Bud… Do you know what you just did?” You asked calmly, staring at the gigantic form of the pregnant bitty. He was undoubtedly ready to give birth any day now.
Bud grinned at you placing a fist proudly on his chest. “I, the great Bud! Have saved you from the evils of drugs! You don’t have to worry I will help you through this terrible time!” He stated, causing your eyebrow to twitch involuntary. Slowly inching forwards you shook your head.
“No Bud, what you did was very bad. Mommy needed those “drugs” you got rid of.” You said quietly, causing Bud to falter, but ultimately double down on his actions, completely sure that he could do no wrong.
“No! They were drugs, and all drugs are bad! That's what daddy used to say! But you don't have to worry momma! I’ll make sure they can’t hurt you anymore!” He exclaimed looking at you with stars in his eyes.
Rubbing your eyes you felt a headache coming on, as you walked forward to pick up the bottles and trash that Bud had dropped to the floor. Luckily it seemed like he was careless and had dropped enough pills that you could last for a few days while you sorted out getting more.
“My doctor gave me these Bud.” You said, watching a look of uncertainty cross Bud’s face. “Drugs given by a doctor aren’t bad. They’re actually very good. They’re medicine.” You explained, picking up the remaining pills on the floor and putting them in their corresponding bottle. “In fact four of these bottles had medicine that keep mommy healthy.”
“Mweh?” Bud said, looking very confused. “But daddy sai-”
“ENOUGH!” You shouted, slamming the bottles onto the bathroom counter with a resounding bang. Bud flinched at this, looking at you with fright.
“I can’t believe how selfish you are!” You bellowed, quickly grabbing Bud by the tail and whipping him in front of your face. He tried to talk over you but you were simply too overbearing.
“I’ve tolerated your behavior up until now! Mostly because of your clutch! BUT THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!” You shouted, shaking Bud violently in your hands, causing him to cry out in pain.
“MOMMY YOU’RE HURTING ME!!!” He shouted, tears starting to form in his eyes, and a putrid stench emanating from him as a blue liquid dribbled down his tail running over your hand and his face on its journey to the floor.
“UGH!” You shouted, thoroughly disgusted that he would piss on you. Quickly flinging him into the toilet and shoving the lid shut. You planted your foot firmly on the toilet as you contorted yourself to wash your hands. Splashing, crying, and weak pushes came from under your foot as you ran the water. You sat glowering at the toilet once you were done.
You had so many calls to make and certainty weren't in the mood to deal with him so you quickly ran out of the bathroom and grabbed a roll of duct tape. Returning to the toilet only to see Bud gasping as he attempted to climb over the toilet seat onto the floor.
Sneering you grabbed Bud’s skull pushing him right back into the toilet, holding the lid shut as you taped it closed. Preventing him from escaping. You heavily sat down on the seat afterwards, putting your face in your hands and screaming into them, pointedly ignoring the plea’s that came from the toilet.
It took awhile for you to calm down enough to think about what needed to be done. You couldn't let Bud’s, misbehavior continue for any longer. Hell you could barely look at him anymore. You had wanted to wait for a natural birth but it didn't look like that was possible anymore. Taking a deep breath you grabbed your phone, and the nearly empty bottles of medicine, first thing was first, you needed refills. Bud was one thing, but this, this was a matter of life and death for you.
----
A few phone calls, and a trip to the doctors brought you home with a week's supply of three of your pills. You would have to sort out the details of the fourth with your insurance company, and most likely would have to visit the pharmacy every day at noon to get your dosage for the day of the fourth in the meantime.
It took quite a while of mental preparation but eventually, you made your way back into the bathroom to finally let Bud out of the toilet. Taking a deep breath, you ripped the duct tape off the toilet, slowly opening the lid, to see and smell a sorry sight.
Bud looked absolutely despondent, as he sat in the water of the toilet, a deep blue colour swirling all around him, as a few glops of feces floated around him too. He looked up at you with fear, and hope in his eyes, reaching out his hands to be picked up.
“Mommy why did you leave me!” He asked, causing you to roll your eyes, anger and disgust flashing in your eyes.
“Save it!” You stated, pulling out a box of floss from your medicine cabinet and holding a long thread over the toilet. “Hold on to this, we’re going to clean you up.” You sneered, watching Bud all but ignore the string as he struggled to leave the toilet, tears starting to run down his face. “Mommy up!” He demanded, holding his filthy digits out to you, he looked on the verge of a tantrum, one you wouldnt be tolerating.
“Where do you think you’re going?” You asked, glaring at the now confused bitty.
“We’re going to the bathtub right?” He said, looking even more confused, but even more insistently pushing his arms up in a gesture of “up.”
You laughed at him coldly. “HA! You think a bitty as awful as you get to have a nice hot bath? Fat chance!” You stated, wiggling the string to get his attention. “Hold onto the string.” You started again, before closing the lid of the toilet again, and pushing the flush valve.
“MOMMY!” Bud cried out alarmed and frightened by the sudden action. The string suddenly pulled tight against your hand. “MOMMY HELP ME!” You heard again, as he strained against the lid.
“We’re cleaning up a piece of shit” You said coldly, all love and tolerance for this bitty having dissolved the moment he dumped your Chains ashes. “Maybe if we’re lucky it’ll be better once we’re done?”
“NO MOMMY! MO*Gasp* MMY! MO *gasp gurgle* MMY! MOOOO*gasp, gurgle*OOOOMMMY!*gurgle*” Bud cried desperately, frequently getting a mouthful of water as he strained to escape. He did manage to lift the lid and poke his head out desperately during the process, only to have his head shoved back in and you sit on the lid. His cries continued, even after about 5 flushes, before you finally let him out.
He wasn't much cleaner after the process, only shivering, and waterlogged, but a large portion of piss was washed away. He looked at you with a betrayed look.
“Mommy why?” He asked pitifully as you reached down with a gloved hand to pick him up.
“You know why.” You clipped out, grimacing as he started to snivel and desperately cling to your hand.
“Mommy please I promise I’ll be good, I prooooomise! Don’t flush meeeeeeeee.” He wailed, causing you to fling him into the sink with a wet thud. He wailed harder, really you were more surprised that he hadn't given birth yet, you were trying so hard after all. It looked like you’d need more stimulus to force his labour.
“You’ve promised me that so many times, I don't believe you.” Really it wasn’t a lie, after every tantrum, mistake, and pissing he would always promise the same thing. You had never really believed him, he would never change on his own, but his pregnant state had prevented you from stressing him too much. Now it just didn't matter, the clutch was coming today whether he was ready or not, and after that, well if you just trained him instead of dusting him he would be incredibly lucky.
Bud looked shocked at your response, as if he’d never considered that you wouldn't forgive him. He didn't have a lot of responses though so he continued to snivel, sprinkling in pretty words to try and sway you.
“But I love you mommy! And I know you love me too! Please mommy forgive me!” He blubbered, not seeming to notice when you turned on the sink.
Ignoring his attempts, you got out a pair of scissors, cutting his clothes off, making extra sure to destroy his favorite blue neckerchief. Of course he wailed and flailed trying to get you to stop, but in the long run he only managed to get you to accidentally cut a piece of his tail off.
“AHHHHHHH!!!!!” He screamed, much to your annoyance.
“Well it's your own damn fault for struggling so much!” You screamed, violently ripping the remains of his shredded clothes off his body. His wails didn't stop.
“MOMMY IT HURTS!!!!” You were getting so sick of his screams, so much so that instead of responding, you balled his remaining clothes up and stuck them in his wailing mouth. Earning a muffled scream.
His tears came back in full force, as he clutched at the dusting flesh of his tail, what looked like blood congealed over the cut, the bits that dripped off turning to dust. Grimacing at the sight you reached for a bottle of soap on the counter, generously lathering the baby blue’s engorged form. Then none to gently rubbed the soap into his wound, earning a long muffled scream from Bud. Really the relative silence was a blessing for you, furthermore you didn't even have to worry about him destroying something again because he was right in front of you.
He tried to push your hands away, but it wasn't good enough, so instead he tried to remove the cloth from his mouth. Clawing desperately at the piss soaked clothes, gagging noises coming from his form. Just as he was about to wrench the cloth free however, you savagely shoved him under the ice cold water that had finally reached a high enough point in the sink. You held him there for a good while watching as he flailed desperately against your hand. Bringing him back up you were amused at his attempts to cough, watching him choke against the cloth instead. You waited for the moment just before he caught his breath to shove him back under. Making sure that all of the soap was off of him before bringing him back up again.
His heaves and cries, gave way to more shudders, as you finally saw your desired effect. His clutch was coming.
Grinning wildly to yourself you gripped him around his torso, holding him up to your face.
“It's about damn time, I can't believe you made me wait so long for this.” You stated, quickly wrapping him up in a towel and shuffling him out to the pre-prepared birthing room you’d made just for him. The change in demeanor was quite shocking, and Bud was thrown for a loop when you suddenly started cradling him and cooing about how good he was.
“Awww let me take that out for you.” You stated in the kindest voice you could choke out, restraining yourself from torturing the little shit more. You might have needed to stress him out to get him to go into labor, but now, now you needed him less stressed. You gently removed the cloth from his mouth, throwing the bundle into the trash and gently stroking the pygmies back as shudders wracked through his body.
“Mommy? Mommy it hurts? Did you do this?” He asked, warily looking at you, as you set him down in a soft nest of blankets he himself had prepared during his nesting phase.
“Sweety you’re giving birth! You’re gonna be a mother.” You said, mustering as much enthusiasm as you could. You sounded incredibly forced, but the stupid pygmy didnt notice, because instead of being angry, he grew excited eyes beginning to sparkle, the stupid thing had already forgotten the torture he’d suffered. You were astonished how quickly his demeanor changed, but pushed that thought aside when his body was wracked with more shudders. YOu let him slither deeper into the nest of blankets, letting out coo’s and praises as he slowly started pushing out the first of many eggs.
---
It took nearly a whole night for Bud to finish his birth, many times you needed to feed him monster candy to help heal some damage the larger eggs did on his body. The first clutch a bitty produced was never usually viable, so you were pleasantly surprised to find that most of his eggs were intact. Bud was fast asleep, curled around his staggering clutch of 36 eggs. You were even more surprised just how many eggs he’d yielded. Your previous brood mother’s record was 15, Bud’s clutch was nearly the maximum most Lamia’s were known for producing.
Alas your surprise could only stay for so long, and the searing hatred you felt for the lamia came back in full force. Staring disdainfully at Bud, you started really debating the pro’s and cons of keeping such a troublesome bitty. You knew how profitable he was, but was he really worth it, could you really stand to look at him after what he’d done? What he’d done was similar to what edgies were known to do, but with edgies, you’d at least had the ability to “prepare.”
The answer eventually came out to no, and with that revelation you very quickly, very quietly moved all the viable eggs to an incubator, leaving about 6 deformed and cracked eggs in front of the bitty.
Eventually the pygmy stirred, looking in front of him, quickly becoming distressed as the sight of only 6 eggs, he started wailing again much to your annoyance, shouting out. “Mommy my eggs! My eggs are gone!”
Rolling your eyes you grabbed him by the tail, picking him up, then picking up one of the deformed eggs and making sure to wave it in front of his face. “You want your eggs so bad. Here.” You said, before shoving the deformed egg into his mouth.
Shock and panic flashed across his face, as he tried to stop your hands, but you were too strong for him, and despite his resistance you eventually made him swallow it.
He choked and sobbed, trying to reach into his own mouth for the egg, but you didn't give him that long, as you grabbed another and repeated the process. He flailed harder, trying to bite you, and he even drew blood, but you really didn't care. Standing you held onto him in a crushing grip, breaking a rib or two in the process, searching around for a roll of duct tape, you eventually found one and sat back down next to the remaining eggs.
“You know I really should just feed them all to you.” You stated, watching the pygmy as he cried and begged. “NO MOMMY PLEASE! PLEASE DON’T KILL THEM!!! I LOVE YOU!!!” You narrowed your eyes at his pleas, before a cold smirk graced your lips. “But you said you wanted your eggs… Could it be that you want to give birth again?” You chuckled not letting him respond, before you taped him down, making sure to have his limbs spread out and tail held firmly still.
He wailed more. “Mommy I don’t like this, please let me go! I have to find my eggs!”
“Don’t worry Bud I’m giving you your eggs.” You stated, before picking up one of the remaining 4 deformed eggs and shoving it slowly, painfulling, back into Bud’s cloaca.
His screams were incredibly loud, louder than any he’d done before, he tried very hard to struggle, but with the duct tape holding him in place he couldn't resist. The egg ended up breaking and leaving a goopy mess all over the place, causing you to frown and chide Bud. “That's no good sweetie, your struggling broke it. We’ll have to try again.”
“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” He screamed, as you started to push another egg up his cloaca, this one did manage to go in, but the shivers wracking the bitties body didn't spell anything good, the edges of his cloaca were beginning to dust, goop and shell bits leaked from the orifice. Bud had stopped communicating, only sobbing uncontrollable. You didn’t stop though, you grabbed another egg and repeated the process, becoming a little satisfied with yourself when it didn't break once inside.
There was one more egg left and you planned to do the same thing with it, but first.
“Do you know why this is happening?” You asked, watching as Bud shivered and stared at you with tear filled sockets. He shook his head. “N-n-n-n-nnnooooooooo!” He shouted.
“I don't know why you would do this to me mommy! I love you! You love me too!” He stammered, asserting the last bit with such certainty that it made your stomach roll.
“Idiot, I don’t love you, I just wanted your clutch.” You stated, before carefully shoving the last egg into his cloaca. You managed to firmly fit it in there, before grabbing more duct tape and covering his cloaca. After a moment of just watching him squirm and struggle to push the eggs out again, you firmly grabbed his torso, and violently ripped him up from the floor.
The duct tape was firm enough on the ground that it kept his arms and tail on the ground as you ripped upwards, detaching his torso and head from his arms and tail. Immediately he burst into dust, a few bits of egg shell remaining in the mess.
Staring down at the mess you made, you wrly thought to yourself.
“I suppose I’ll just have to tell your old family you died giving birth.”
How do you deal with bitties that have been severely abused but might be worth saving? I mean it's been mentally abused and physically. Cuts, bruises, and scares all over it's body. It also doesn't sleep much without getting night terrors.
You got these types of cases all the time. People wanting to help the mental and physical well being of their bitties who had come from places where they were abused for years without end. The bitties were usually a wreck, stuck in their state of simulated fear and unable to switch even if you tried to initiate a stall to fix the problem. They are essentially glitched out into a state of constant fear that manifests in ways that set them apart from normal bitties. You’d worked for a long time on that particular problem and eventually came up with a solution.
There really isn't a way to get them out of that state of fear by training them, they’re locked out of the ability to stall, and essentially need a factory reset.
Your grandfather's journals demonstrated that the only way to do a reset reliably was to put the bitty in the programming chair and basically erase their entire operating system and reinstall it. There were other ways, but they had high rates of dusting, so they were generally off the table. Of course the chair only really works perfectly with first generation bitties, later generations require a little more finesse.
You’d tried this with a 6th generation Edgy who had basically been reduced to the temperament of a Cherry. You had placed him in the chair while he cried, and attempted to reset him, making sure that you had a base code. The edgy ended up dusting during the whole process, as there was a component that couldn't be programmed back in that allowed his ecto flesh to sustain heats.
You tried again with another 6th generation bitty, this time a softy that was in a constant state of night terrors. This time you didn't touch the core programming and instead tried wiping the memory banks. Surprisingly this worked, although it did leave the Softy dumber than usual, and he lost all sense (not that there was much to begin with) of where an appropriate place to sleep was. He also seemed to have his short term and long term memory severely damaged. He couldn't remember anything you recently told him nor who you were half the time. He also started falling asleep right in the middle of doorways, in the blender, on top of the radiator, and most disturbingly, inside of trash cans.
So you tried again, this time, simply erasing memories over time in measured treatments. This ended up as the best result, and after troubleshooting the process with over 12 different types of bitties you eventually perfected the process.
However in the long run the process completely erases any memory the bitty has of “anything” ever. Furthermore while it does fix the fact that they're stuck in a constant state of fear, it also means that they have difficulty switching between emotional states. You’ll find that they have trouble expressing the appropriate emotions in each situation. They could laugh at your pain or switch to anger instead of sympathy at your plights. They could get angry at you when you do something nice for them, or laugh when you’re trying to express anger. They could be afraid of you when you ask for a hug, or get aroused by your pain. Really it depends on the situation, furthermore this procedure is intensive and expensive.
Overall really its up to the owner on what would be worth it for each bitty. Abused bitties are some of the trickiest to deal with and generally aren't your area of expertise, but you still have your methods for dealing with them.
As for the bruises and cuts… Monster candy is generally the solution for those.
Not sure if theres still a community for this but ive been very into bitty abuse and whump despite not being in the related fandom for a long time... If you like bitty torture and things of the sort please give me a follow/send an ask/ interact with this post! (note that i follow back from a seperate blog) I will hopefully post something soon
Behind the curtain (english): Hi dears! Just posting the first part in french, currently translating it in english as well. Will post as soon as done.
Derrière le rideau (français): Hey! Eum, pour ceux qui sont tombés là dessus par hasard, il s’agit d’histoires TERRIBLEMENT trashs concernant des bittybones. Siouplait, lisez en connaissance de cause. Il y aura de la mutilation et toutes sortes de violences.
...
<< S'il te plait, ne m'abandonne pas ! Je serais un bon bitty ! Meilleur ! >> Il tambourine, frappe le sol des pieds dans son caprice. Son propriétaire hausse un sourcil, ses iris vaquent, il semble douter... Mais non.
La créature de compagnie avait été une tumeur dès le premier jour. Aux gémissements incessants s'étaient immiscés des ordres détournés, des réflexions et des remarques... Des critiques. Sur son mode de vie, sa façon de s'habiller, l'heure à laquelle il se réveillait le week-end ! Il avait récupéré ce baby blue par bonté d'âme, car une de ses amies déménageait dans un appartement où ils n'étaient pas autorisés. Mais maintenant ? Cette bonne action avait été noyée par des mois de ressenti face à la chose haute comme deux myrtilles, mais irritante au possible. Déposant un prospectus devant le bitty, le baby blue entendit clairement énoncer.
<< Je t'emmène là, ils sauront s'occuper de toi correctement. >> Blue a été forcé de reculer par le vent qu'a fait le papier en se déposant à ses pieds. Il se penche, tente de lire.
<< Élevage des Beaux Cieux ? >> Balbutie Blue, relevant un regard incrédule vers son humain.
<< Tu finiras tes jours comme étalon. >> Son propriétaire ricane. << Je t'envierai presque. >>
...
Le silence n'est pas au rendez-vous dans le trajet. Les supplications deviennent lancinantes, Blue hurle désormais pour se faire entendre, souillant la cage à hamster dans laquelle il est trimballé par des larmes et autres fluides colorés.
<< HUMAIN NE FAIT PAS CA !! >> Qu'il gueule. << C'EST LA PIRE DÉCISION DE TA VIE !! >> L'humain en question augmente le son de la radio mais les piaillements ne se stoppent pas pour autant. La suite de la tirade est du même acabis... 'Pas que tu ai l'habitude de prendre des bonnes décisions / tu vas me regretter / je suis ton bitty et je t'aime / ramène-moi à la maison, je sais que tu m'aimes aussi !'. Lorsque Blue fini par comprendre qu'il n'aura pas de réponses, ses mots fusent en un gémissement aigu. Les pleurs continuent jusqu'à ce que la voiture s'arrête devant une adorable petite ferme, tout ce qu'il y a de plus pittoresque. A vingt minutes de la ville, l'air y est pur. Des chats semi-sauvages trainent dans la cour, ils se frottent aux jambes de l'humain alors que celui-ci claque la porte de sa voiture. Cette dernière avait été neuve, il fût un temps, avant que cet idiot de Blue ne se mette en tête qu'une couleur cyan conviendrait mieux à un véhicule digne de sa 'magnificence'... Et ne tente de la repeindre au crayon de couleur. Les fissures horribles sur la carrosserie auraient achevé de convaincre l'humain que son choix était le bon, s'il en avait douté le moins du monde.
<< Bienvenue ! >> Une jeune fille, la quatorzaine, peut-être, accourt. Ses joues replètes et ses yeux vifs génèrent un sourire à l'humain.
<< Merci. Tes parents sont là ? >> Qu'il demande, ceci à peine audible sous les pleurs du bitty qui ont repris de plus belle. La fillette hausse les épaules.
<< Ils sont occupés. Mais ils m'ont dit de réceptionner le bitty. Vous êtes la personne qu'on a eu au téléphone ? >> L'humain met un court moment avant de reprendre ses marques.
<< Euh. Oui. Voici Blue. Tiens... >> Il lui passe la cage et la fillette la réceptionne avec une attention toute particulière. L'humain s'en va, loupant de peu la lueur de malice fusant dans les yeux de la demoiselle.
<< Alors, Blue, on est un peu grognon ? >> Lâche-t-elle, gagnant un cessé le feu dans les lourds sanglots. Blue relève ses immenses orbites détrempés vers la gamine. << Moi, c'est Jessica, et tu verras, tu vas beaucoup te plaire, ici ! >> Ignorant les chats qui grouillaient à ses pieds, intéressés par le petit rongeur, elle se dirigea vers une petite grange à l'écart. Blue s'approcha maladroitement de la cage, les mimines enserrant les barreaux.
<< Tu es ma nouvelle maman ? >> Qu'il demande d'une voix tremblante, des étoiles se formant automatiquement dans ses iris. Jessica rigole doucement.
<< N'importe quoi. >> Qu'elle souffle, ignorant le visage ahuri du bitty se décomposant d'une tel réponse. Posant la cage à terre, le temps de pousser à deux mains une porte bien trop lourde, Blue voit s'agglutiner autour de lui les félins, piaillant de faim comme s'il était une boite de thon.
<< Euh... Jessica ? >> Couine le bitty, effrayé. Mais personne ne lui répond sinon le lourd grincement de l'immense porte de bois. Enfin, la porte a cédé et donne sur un dépotoir plongé dans les ténèbres. Blue n'a pas le temps de s'y préparer que sa cage est à nouveau en train de dodeliner au bout du bras de la jeune fille. Elle la pose dans un 'CLANK' bien audible sur quelque chose en ferrailles - une autre cage ? Et se frotte les mains.
<< Tu seras bien là, le temps qu'on t'opère. >> Blue se glace à ces paroles.
Opère ? Mais n'était-ce pas...
Pourquoi aurait-il besoin d'être opéré ?
<< Je suis pas malade ! >> Se défend le bitty. << Opérer, c'est pour les gens qui sont très très malades ! >> Il couine mais ne parvient qu'à amuser la demoiselle. Elle ne prend pas la peine de répondre et s'en va, peinant tout autant à refermer la porte. Juste avant que la lumière extérieure ne se réduise en un filet pour disparaitre, Blue a le temps d'apercevoir un des félins se faufiler dans la grange.
<< Hé ! >>
Puis le silence. Enfin, c'est ce qu'il croyait. Mais alors que ses tympans s'habituent au manque de stimulis auditifs, il fini par entendre des sons bien plus diffus. Le bruit d'une- non, de centaines de respirations, rauques, affolées, brisées. Des ricanements et des sanglots mêlés et- oh, le miaulement diaboliquement aigu du félin, rôdant à travers les allées... Les allées... Ses orbites s'accoutument à l'obscurité. Il y a des rangées et des rangées... Serait-ce des cages ? Blue laisse échapper un souffle choqué.
<< IL Y A QUELQU'UN, ICI ?! >> Scande le baby blue. Il s'étonne ne ne pas avoir de réponses et insiste. << S'il vous plait !! >> Le dernier mot, une supplication faible.
<< Ta gueule. >> Les orbites du bleu se dilatent.
<< SURVEILLE TON LANGAGE !! >> Qu'il crache, par réflexe de cette époque où il était au centre d'adoption. Une cage en dessous, les pupilles rouges de ce qui semble être un edgy deviennent perçantes. Il fixe un temps l'ennemi potentiel, avant de reconnaitre à qui ce dernier avait à faire.
<< Un baby blue. Tch. Comme si j'avais besoin de ça. >> La voix sonne claire. L'edgy a plusieurs mois de moins que le baby blue.
<< UN CADET ! TANT MIEUX, MON MAGNIFIQUE EXEMPLE SAURA- >>
<< Je crois pas que c'est le moment. >> Des iris blancs luisant dans la cage d'en face répondent calmement. Blue hésite un instant. Un... Sansy ? << Fait juste ce qu'il te dit, on a pas vraiment le coeur à papoter. >>
<< N'importe quoi ! >> Se complaint le petit Blue. << Je viens d'arriver et j'ai besoin de renseignements ! >> Inutile de dire que la petite créature est amplement courroucée. << A quelle heure prend-t-on le goûter, ici ? >> Il y a un silence, puis le rire frénétique de l'edgy. Blue fronce les sourcils. Il... Avait loupé le goûter ? C'était si méchant de se moquer...! << Bien, et qu'est-ce qu'on fait ici ? >> Qu'il reprend, un peu moins courageux. << Oh, c'est pour une surprise d'anniversaire, c'est ça ? >> Son ton excité glisse soudain vers une réalisation. << On est les cadeaux, c'est ça ? >> A qui allaient-ils être offerts ? A un enfant qui jouerait avec eux toute la journée ? A une humaine douce qui adorerait les câlins ? Ou même à un monstre, Blue n'était pas difficile ! Tant que l'humain était d'accord pour le laisser dormir dans le lit...
<< Putain... >> Pouffe le rouge. << Je lui dit ? >>
<< Non ! >> Hurle Sansy, paniqué. << Laisse-le dans son monde. Pour l'instant... >> Mieux valait continuer de garder les oeillières. Il sera toujours temps de se ronger les os... Mais l'edgy ne semble rien entendre de la réponse. D'un sourire cruel, il fini par lâcher.
<< Eh, le crétin... Regarde au dessus de ta tête ! >>
<< UH ?? >> Blue lève la tête sans réfléchir, apercevant soudainement une lueur argentée, quelque chose suspendu au plafond.
<< C'est la 'chaine d'opération'. >> Continue l'edgy, un ton sadique tintant sa voix. << Le truc qui brille, c'est un crochet de boucher~ >> Il minaude, extatique, malgré les cris plaintifs du sansy qui tente de le faire taire. Les os de Blue palissent alors qu'il enregistre l'information.
<< Ha... Haha ? >> Qu'il rétorque. << TU M'AS BIEN EU, EDGY, MAIS JE NE ME SUIS PAS LAISSE AVOIR ! IL Y A DES LIMITES AUX BLAGUES DE MAUVAIS GOÛT ! >>
This one is light on the torture in my opinion, its more of a body horror type of fic than a torture one.
!!!WARNING!!! READ TAGS BEFORE READING. BITTY TORTURE. DONT LIKE DON’T READ.
“The ranch had gone through so much over the years, but today we try out a new toy. Hopefully it makes training easier.”
You couldn't remember what life was like before becoming a bitty breeder. Rather, you don't remember ever being less busy. Your little side business of training bitties had slowly evolved over the years to become a full blown business, despite your attempts at keeping it small. You dont know when it started evolving beyond your control, but at this point you were thinking that you needed to bring in a partner to manage the business side, as you simply weren't cut out for it. You tried to think of how it got to this point, but you were drawing a blank.
At first you had started out with a ranch dedicated to breeding horses, you had a veterinary degree and a career you loved. You reared them and sold them, you had a few wealthy clients who knew and trusted you to help breed their prize winning mares and stallions. It was a steady income, with you training bitties on the side.
Your bittie expertise had come from your grandfather. He had been a brilliant engineer with a knack for magical constructs. He’d loved bitties as a side effect of being one of the designers for many of the pet varieties. He’d even managed to design two bitties on his own, ones that emphasized utility over quirkiness. He had taught you so much about the skeletal creatures that even your college professor was intrigued by your knowledge of the magical beings. During that unit you’d found yourself teaching some things the textbooks failed to mention.
In fact it was your professor who reached out to you asking if you were an accomplished bitty vet yet? Which was the cause for your shift from horses to bitties. As after years of trying only to focus on horses due to your love of them, you slowly found your attention shifted to what turned out to be a far more lucrative buisness.
Your grandfather was the man who had created the designs for Squadron and Fluffy bitties. He’d unfortunately created them during the tail end of the original bitty companies duration and unfortunately the company had only ever got to implement fluffy bitties into their roster. With a relatively useful bitty design he’d never submitted to the company and no way to ever see it come to fruition he’d gone to a bar to drink away his sorrows. In the process making a friend who would later join the military and marry the divorced mother of a child who would later blab to his father, who just so happened to help process military contracts. Hearing about the squadron bitties, this man saw their merit and helped your grandfather sell the squadron bitty design to the military, for a sum large enough to sustain three generations of his family.
It was needless to say that when he passed, he had left you with a lot more than a portion of his fortune. He’d left you with journals upon journals of technical jargon on bitty behavior and creation, half completed bitty designs, speculations, training methods. These journals were a huge part in why you were as successful as you were with bitty training. With the collapse of the original bitty company he’d done a lot of illegal things in his sorrow and following unemployment, most of which involved saving designs from being shredded. Your parents and siblings hadn’t seen the merit in using designs that couldn't be sold for fear of legal repercussions so they’d gone to you at your insistence. You hadn't had much luck with them either, but you still worked on them in your spare time.
You had started off with a normal ranch with your house, but after your grandfather passed away, you slowly found yourself needing to expand in an attempt to create a sustainable flow of cash outside of your grandfathers fortune. You built a bigger house to act as a better clinic, three separate enclosures each for a different category of bitty, and the last area was a farm where you kept horses. Despite how lucrative bitties were, you still held a passion for horses that you couldn't give up. Bud was the only pregnant lamia you had currently, but that didn't mean he was the only lamia, or bitty for that matter, you had on the property.
You now had about five different area’s to your property, 3 of which were dedicated to bitties.
The first area was of course your home, a two story house with about 10 rooms and three bathrooms. Your home was never really empty, as it was where you kept your pregnant and injured bitties, as you had made one of the rooms into a makeshift animal/bitty clinic while another was a dedicated birthing room. You had a study where you handled paperwork, your bedroom alongside two guest bedrooms, a room your chain bitty had shared with a group of fluffies that acted like maids and gardeners. With the rest being separate rooms for your injured and pregnant bitties. You had a basement as well, where a lot of “training” and research took place.
Bud was unique in the respect that he happened to be the only one living there at the moment. Usually you had a group of fluffies living with you too, but you’d shooed them out when Bud became stressed after he threw a tantrum after he caught you pampering one that had brought you your medicine. You had already moved them back in much to their delight, and Bud’s annoyance.
The second area is actually where you kept a lot of your pet variety of bitties, it functioned like an adoption center, but the kind of adoption center where exorbitantly priced bitties with specialty purposes lived. Most of the bitties that lived there were actually already sold, or belonged to someone, because alongside breeding bitties, you also housed them for people going on vacation. A bitty hotel if you would.
The outside of the building was fenced off by a huge thick wall to prevent the pet variety bitties from escaping, but really most bitties didn't want to as there were all sorts of jungle gyms and toys lying around for them to play with just outside. The inside was no different as there was a fantastic common area where bitty books, toys, tables, coloring books, etc was lying about ready to be played with. The enclosures were actually clear plastic containers like the ones that pet shops used to display bitties, they were usually left open during the day save a few bitties who went into time out, while they were closed and locked at night. You had private rooms in back for bitties going through heats, but you did not provide heat aids, they were too unsanitary and owners would have to bring them from home if they didn't want their bitties to suffer unaided.
You had sponsorships with a few businesses who sold specialty bitty products and even one company who offered special cleaning agents that worked on magical bitty waste. They supplied you with heavily discounted products, in exchange for you advertising their products wherever you could.You left logo’s and pamphlets all over your ranch in plain view of both bitty and owners alike. When you first did this you were more surprised at how easily bitties were influenced by advertisements. A rather devious point of them leftover from the original bitty company. (Haha, advertisement through pets, gross)
The second area was dedicated to “protection” variety bities. The area mirrored the first in designs, albeit its wall was much higher, had fewer bitty jungle gyms that were all beat up, toys that were similarly battered, and much to your amusement your husband had insisted on having some bored squadron bitties patrol the borders of it in case the “protection” varieties got out. Honestly the place was more like a prison with how it was set up. You always gave these bitties old toys due to just how destructive they were, and they “never” got anything that wasn't soft or could break apart into pieces that could potentially harm someone.
Most of these bitties in this area would spend their time learning how to hunt better, and how to spot and maul potential threats to their owners. The whole area was a very stark contrast to the pet bitty area, but that was to be expected. Your grandfather had drilled it into your head at a young age how these particular bitties were “NOT” pets, they were never meant to be, the company had designed them to be vicious and dangerous for the purpose of guarding and hunting. It was why edgies broke stuff all the time, why pure bites had sharp teeth, why errors set deadly traps, and why kraits had such deadly poison.
The third area looked nothing like the first two, honestly the whole place was more your husband's idea than your own. He’d been part of the military before you met him, injured in combat, in need of an emotional support animal. He’d been partners with a Squadron bitty and during an attack where all but two of his squad were killed, the surviving bitties dragged the two of them all the way back to base. His own bitty had died due to over exhaustion, while he was honorably discharged due to his left hand being blown off. He’d been recommended to you when he insisted on a bitty, and ended up adopting a group of fluffies, but only after marrying you.
Your relationship with your husband had started rather tumultuously. You didn't hide your training methods from him. You couldn't hide them from him if you wanted a successful relationship. He was enamored with you thoroughly at the time, willing to look past the behavior and eventually “fix” it. He’d asked you how you could treat them so differently when training, how you could torture them. You never had an answer that would satisfy him though, so eventually, you just stopped and told him that if he could find a way to do it better, more efficiently than you, then you would do that instead.
He threw himself into that particular task wholeheartedly, trying everything, every method, every speculation, he’d even tried to get a hold of a supposed miracle method worth about 50 dollars. However, he soon discovered that the amount of time needed to train out each misbehavior was more than what was feasible to sustain. Unless we owned the bitties in question the training wasn't feasible or sustainable. The amount of destruction one bitty could do with ridiculous “pranks” was more than you could ever make in training the bitty.
The Sansy your husband had tried to train tended to destroy sinks and toilets. You were lucky that you had a small fortune from your grandfather. The cost of having to replace the toilet and sink because of sewage buildup had made your husband realize that two weeks of torture was nothing in the long run if it prevented thousands of dollars in property damage. God forbid anyone have to pay medical fees from breaking a hip due to a banana peel prank.
Since then he had been your partner in crime so to speak, he didn't mention your training methods so long as he didn't have to hear the wails. That and he absolutely adored bitties, and the opportunity to work with squadron bitties tended to occupy most of his mind.
The area your husband was in charge of looked exactly like military barracks, and housed about two platoons worth of squadron bitties. The bitties that lived there were always fresh off the press, and usually needed to be monitored for about a month to see if they had any later manifesting defects before being sent off to a military base. You yourself were granted permission to be involved with these bitties both due to your knowledge of bitties and your grandfather's hand in creating them.
While you hadn't known of how they were created before due to an NDA your grandfather signed, your merits as a bitty veterinarian alone had granted you permission to treat them. It also helped that your grandfather would often show you and your siblings how to handle squadron bitties, never disclosing crucial details, but often teaching you how to care for the bitties in a way many army trainers didn't know how.
It was only after marrying your husband that you were approached by the general that was in charge of his base's bitties. He asked your husband if the both of you would be interested in holding a contract with the base for monitoring newer bitties for defects. He offered your husband the rank of sergent major in charge of bitty operation if he accepted, and he would be part of the military again. The base would also provide food for the bitties and a little bit of cash for extra expenses that could be used on the entire ranch and not just the squadron bitties. You were hesitant to accept this offer, but at your husband's insistence you ended up with a mini military base on your ranch.
Your husband often complained about your grandfather's naming of the bitties, as squadrons usually referred to the air force while the bitties themselves were usually kept only by infantry. Honestly it did wonders for his self esteem, as having a rank and purpose in the military again even if it wasn't in combat, was what he had mourned with the loss of his hand.
Of course after all of these expansions on your ranch you would often only break even, you walked a fine line between bankruptcy and profit. Your only saving grace was that you were approaching the point where you were able to develop different monster candies. Speaking of which it was about time to check on the brassberries.
Making your way down into your basement you looked around to make sure none of the fluffies that were upstairs would follow you. After making sure, you quickly made your way downstairs, locking the door behind you. You heard a thud on the other side of the door followed by “Owwwwieeeeee! MOMMY LET ME IN!! I WANNA PLAY!” You sighed at this, Bud was still up to his antics, although you didn't know how he got out of his room this time. No doubt trying to get at his eggs again. You were about to just ignore him, but an idea suddenly came to your mind, you had a new toy that you hadn’t been able to test out yet, and it aligned perfectly with your attempts to get Bud to mind his own business. So with a grin, you opened the door, to greet a teary eyes Bud.
He looked at you with teary eyes. “Mweh?”
“What are you waiting for, didn't you want to play?” You said, grinning widely as you said so. Bud hadn’t yet learned that when it came to him you held no love, but due to a pygmies nature they could only ever admit fault when under extreme duress, or threat of abandonment. A strange survival mechanism they’d developed in later generations. The original blueberries and pygmies could never do such things. Really you were wondering if Blue was a first generation breeder, it would explain his petulance and inability to admit fault. If he was a product of asexual reproduction the narcissism would stay as he would never have learned to admit fault to avoid dusting as a younger bitty.
His face lit up as his eye lights sparkled, as he shot himself at your face. “YES! MOMMY LETS PLAY!” You struggled not to tumble down the stairs as you caught him with your face. Your grin faded while he righted himself on your shoulder, as you suppressed the urge to stomp him out. You didn't know why this bitties antics annoyed you so much when other pygmies and blues were quite endearing to you. But of course thinking back to the empty urn next to your bed you found yourself not thinking of him as much of a pygmy anymore, and more like the congenital condition you suffered from.
You didn't say much as you carefully shut the door to upstairs, locking it behind you, as you struggled not to throw Bud down the stairs. Bud however, chattered on endlessly.
“I thought you didn't love me anymore! You’ve been so mean lately mommy, and you’re ignoring me for those silly fluffies!” He grimaced at that. “Why did you let those fluffies back in mommy! You only need me! I’m so amazing that no other bitty can compare! Mwehehe!”
You rolled your eyes at Bud’s ridiculous dislike for the group of fluffies that helped around the house. He disliked just how much you pampered on the helpful critters. He disliked how your husband absolutely spoiled the little things. While you had fixed his tendency to pulling destructive “pranks” he’d been frustrated enough to start destroying the fluffies objects, much to their distress, your husband had tried to be nice to him, but after even his stuff to started getting pissed on in a destructive frenzy, he’d asked you to fix that problem first thing. Your husband, who was the proverbial good cop to your bad cop in regards to bitties.
The lights made a buzzing noise as you descended the stairs, revealing what you had taken to calling your laboratory. There were all sorts of chemicals and magical implements stuffed inside of cabinets against the wall, with what looked like a mini treadmill alongside mini medical monitors on a table next to a computer. There were even nine bitty enclosures against the wall with a group of three brassberries who had strange ectoflesh growths all over their bodies. You really weren't sure what that was about, but it seemed to cause them a lot of pain so you kept them asleep until you could figure it out.
You were going to come down to check on them and do more tests to see what was going on with their ectoflesh. However there was a piece of equipment down here that you needed to test out, something that was supposed to make training easier, you just hadn't had a bitty to test it with. Ignoring Bud’s wails to pay attention and how the brassberries looked gross. You made your way over to what looked like a miniature dentist chair that was hooked up to an older model of computer that wasn't even made anymore. You moved to boot up the computer, but stopped as Bud yanked hard on your hair and bit at your neck.
“SONOFA!!!” You screamed as you yanked the bitty free from your hair and punted him across the room. You felt blood pool down your neck, and put a hand up to your neck to feel, you could feel teeth mark where he bit, and he seemed to get pretty deep because the bite was bleeding pretty badly.
“What the fuck?” You stammered, and looked up to see Bud clutching at his ribs, your hair tangled in his bones, and blood staining his mouth. You were utterly shocked, there was something seriously wrong with this bitty, whether he was asexual reproduction gone wrong, or if he was the first crossbreed between blueberry and edgy you had no idea. But you had never even HEARD of a blueberry BITING off CHUNKS OF FLESH before. This bitty had been around a child for fucks sake, did he do this to him too?
Opening a drawer full of surgical tools you got a bit of cotton and pressed it against your bite. You dazedly looked at Bud as he screamed bloody murder and flailed around on the floor as if you were right in front of him ripping off his scales.
“MOMMY LISTEN TO MEEEEEEE!!! I WANNA PLAY I WANNA PLAY I WANNA PLAY!!! I HATE THOSE FLUFFIES, I HATE THOSE BRASSIES!!! MOMMY SHOULD ONLY PLAY WITH MEEEEEEEE!!! WHY WON’T YOU PLAY WITH MEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
Moving quickly you grabbed Bud around the ribcage, and ended up practically throwing him in an available enclosure in your haste to prevent him from causing anymore damage. You noticed how there was an additional bite mark on your hand now that was only just starting to bleed.
Staring at Bud as he banged on the glass of the enclosure demanding to be let out, you felt a headache. It seemed he was in the middle of a full blown tantrum now, one that was on the level of edgy territory now. God, what the fuck was WRONG with this bitty?
Sighing, you shook your head and headed upstairs to treat your bite, you’d deal with him soon. Maybe you’d attempt the first bitty ancestry test today?
---
Your husband had been unimpressed with the bite on your neck. It was only after you insisted that it was nothing and promised to visit the doctor the next day did he let you attend to Bud.
Going back downstairs you noticed that Bud was still injured, and was currently scratching the hell out of the enclosure seeming to think this was all the brassberries doing.
‘WHERE’S MOMMY!!! SHE’S SUPPOSED TO PLAY WITH ME!!! WHERE DID SHE GO! LET ME OUT YOU. YOU. YOU MOMMY STEALERS!” In his screams he’d woken the poor brassies up, who were shivering in their makeshift beds and groaning in pain. They weakly called out to you, and you ended up rushing over to see that their growths seemed to be pulsating and growing more due to the stress Bud was putting them under. Eyes widening, you very quickly, grabbed your sedatives and opened each enclosure to feed to the brassberries. You gave them as strong a dose as you could so they would fall asleep quickly. Only relaxing once each of them were fast asleep and their growths no longer expanding.
You could only sigh in relief before more banging on the enclosure Bud was in caused your fury to rise once again. You HAD to do something about Bud, and you once again debated the pro’s and cons of just dusting him.
Washing your hands of the brassberries you moved to get handling gloves again, and looked into Bud’s enclosure. He glared at you with tear filled eyes, and screamed more.
‘MOMMY LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME----”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You screamed, loud enough that the enclosure shook. The shout gave Bud pause, before his face flushed blue and he threw himself on his back and wailed more.
“NOOOO MOMMY YELLED AT ME!!! SHE ISN’T NICE SHE’S MEAN AGAIN! I KNEW SHE WAS LYING ABOUT PLAYING!!! ITS ALL THOSE BRASSIES FAULTS!!!” Your face darkened at his comments, and you opened up the enclosure and grabbed Bud’s torso.
“You want to play huh?” You said darkly. “Alright we’ll play, but first you have to settle down.” Your voice seemed utterly calm, but really there was so much malice in it that only Bud would be able to ignore it.
He seemed to calm down a little, wincing as you jostled a broken rib, only sniffling and looking at you with uncertainty. “Really? We’ll play?” He asked his voice squeaky now that he’d screamed so much.
“Yeah, sure, I just need you to sit in this chair.” You said placing him on the desk with the mini chair.
He seemed to tear up again, and looked at the chair with uncertainty. “Is it fun?” He asked, to which you only laughed.
“Well I know I will enjoy it?” You said, a double meaning which seemed to fly right over Bud’s head.
Sniffing and wiping away his tears, Bud slithered towards the chair. Sitting down and wincing at his ribs, grimacing to yourself you pulled a monster candy from your pocket. You were able to make them yourself thanks to your grandfather, but even the parts while significantly cheaper than the actual candies were still quite pricey, that wasn't even considering the discount on materials you’d managed to secure. Nonetheless they were essential to any bitty owner, let alone a veterinarian.
You handed it to him and he swallowed it whole, while the magic repaired the damage. Really you were jealous of monsters for this ability, it would be nice if it worked with humans.
He seemed to perk up at the candy, and quickly started to chatter away as you continued to boot up the computer, again.
It took a few minutes for the computer to boot up, and when it did you smirked at the options displayed for the chair. Moving the cursor over to the first option you clicked.
Only a startled yelp from Bud was any indication that the button had done something.
The chair itself was a tool from the original bitty company that was used to quickly and efficiently reprogram bitties in the factory, it had even been used to install the very first Blueberry personality into a blank skeleton. You’d searched everywhere for this piece of equipment after reading about it in one of your grandfather's journals. He’d also somehow managed to run off with the formulas for the magical gel base the chair used as well. So you hadn't had any trouble recreating it in your own basement.
“Ouchie! Mommy something pricked me!” Bud squeaked out, before you watched as he seemed to slump in the chair. You noticed that there seemed to be a tiny needle pumping shimmering green gel into a small hole that was on his c3 vertebrae before retracting quietly back into the chair. You had always wondered why all bitties had that particular hole, now you knew.
You watched fascinated as Bud slumped in the chair, seeming immobile. You chuckled darkly before moving over and clicking a button that split the headrest open. The headrest revealed a set of metal strips meant for holding the skull still. Carefully putting them in place you were startled by Bud speaking.
“Mommy what's going on? I can't move?” Bud cried out in a panic, you started a bit.
“You can talk?” You asked, a little confused, before looking at the computer screen, only to see that there was an optional button to disable speech, a note put at the side stating that speech allowed further troubleshooting with key phrases. You ignored that message, moving your cursor over to the button only to be disappointed when an error message appeared.
“Figures, data corrupted.” You sighed, making peace with the fact that you’d never get Bud to shut up.
Moving back over to the chair you quickly stripped Bud from his clothes, then clicked the headpieces in place, Bud was crying, as was par for the course with him, while you made sure to adjust his body so that all his bones were in the right place, and strapping him in further with leather that was attached to the chair.
Bud was making panting noises, he didn't actually breathe but he did a pretty convincing imitation. He seemed to be hyperventilating, not appreciating being immobile. “Mommy! I’m scared, why can’t I move?”
You couldn't help but mock him. “But this is a game Bud, we’re playing a fun game. I just need you to be a toy.” You stated, before moving what looked like a miniature dentists light over bud, you pressed a button on the side and three very menacing looking needles popped out from the middle, each placed strategically in the major centers of magic. One over his soul while the other two were placed over his eye sockets.
Bud stared utterly terrified at the three needles, his tiny blue ai soul beating sporadically as he stared down the needles. “I DON’T LIKE THIS GAME MOMMY!” He screeched, his immobile form not at all taking away from his terror.
You lamented the fact that you couldn't mute his speech, before clicking the commencement option on the computer screen, making sure to scroll over the option for lamia. More needles appeared from the chair poking through the fabric from holes that you’d previously thought were tears from years of misuse. There was a needle for each vertebrae, one for each hand, each elbow, each shoulder blade, and two that seemed to place themselves right around the jaw. They seemed to extract magic from Bud and within a few seconds Bud’s code was displayed on the monitor in front of you.
Eyes widening you let out an excited giggle, you were practically salivating at the code displayed. You had learned basic code from your grandfather when you asked him about making bitties, and learned more advanced coding as the years went on. You were nowhere near the level needed to actually design a functioning bitty, but you were able to read and understand the code that lay in front of you.
Scrolling through the code you found yourself surprised at just how much could be garnered about a bitty through the code. There was so much data to parse through that you ended up sitting there for what seemed like hours, ignoring Bud’s wails as you learned more about his code.
“Ah I can move my finger now mommy!” Bud let out, seeming frantic to get more sensation back. That simple phrase however snapped you out of your reverie.
“Oh.” You said, slightly disappointed, before sighing. You’d have to move the code to a floppy disc to parse through later, for now you need to focus on the misbehavior's. For now you’d attempt to iron out Bud’s jealousy and violent tendencies.
Parsing through the data to look for the lines that denoted behaviors and emotions, you quickly found the jealousy lines. You removed the line that denoted he got jealous of other bitties/people who the owner paid attention to, and a few other conditions that caused him to be jealous of any sexual attention his owner got as well. You didn't dare remove anything other than the conditions though as that needed more time to parse out.
Moving on to the tantrums however, you were met with absolute spaghetti. It seemed that he had edgy code mixed in with his blueberry code, which was what was causing his violent tantrums. You frowned, actually quite glad that you’d found this, as you now knew exactly what his origins were. A product of an edgy and blueberry lamia mix, a rather interesting coupling, it was probably some sort of rape, pygmies could be rather forceful during their heats.
There was so much code piled on top of each other that you ended up having to reapply the paralytic multiple times. It took you two hours to sort out the tantrums, deleting all the edgy code to leave a textbook Blueberry tantrum template in its place. Bud during the first 15 minutes screamed bloody murder, before devolving into helpless blubbers, until finally going completely silent. The chair was stained blue from his tears, which really wasn't a problem since it was meant to be easily cleaned. You’d had to stop for a moment to relieve Bud during the process, which only resulted in him crying more out of shame.
Finally feeling satisfied with your work you quickly moved around looking for the floppy disc you’d set aside to move the data to. Inserting the disc you moved the data to the disc as quickly as you could, going through about 3 discs in order to copy it all down. Then finally, you moved over to Bud.
“Well that was fun.” You grinned, staring at Bud’s vacant eye-lights, watching as they blinked back into existence, looking towards you in hope.
“Are we done now mommy? I’m tired, I don't like this game. I’m hungry! I want nuggies! Please let me out! I’ll be good! I promise! I hate needles!” He spit out so much, his voice scratchy from all the screaming he did before. You chuckled at his exuberance.
“Almost, I just need you to look at the needles for me real quick.” You stated, moving the three menacing looking needles closer to him.
“What! NO MOMMY PLEASE NOOOO! NONONONONONONONONONONON nNONonONonoNOnoNOnonONONOnonONoOOOOOOOOO!” There was no resistance as the needles entered the energy masses in Bud’s eyes, and the final needle seemed to move through his AI soul with a light popping noise. Bud’s screams were loud, and he didn't stop. You idly wondered why the chair design didn’t have a painkiller installed, before you remembered that bitty pain medication had only been created about 5 years ago. Most procedures had been accomplished by putting bitties to sleep. This chair was at least 20 years old.
Quickly moving over to the computer, you clicked the initialize option, reading the warning about not being able to change the code back to its previous state before accepting. The needles whirred to life, green magic pulsating through the needles, and green magic seemed to form a circuit between his eye lights and AI soul. Bud’s screams ceased at this point, as he seemed to be forced into a stall, drool formed at the corner of his mouth and dripped down as the machine forcibly reprogrammed his mind. Possibilities of reprogramming bitties in a single night flooded your mind, you could practically see the money rolling in if this worked. If the strange evolution of bitties hadn’t made this process obsolete.
You watched Bud, fascinated by this process, before looking back at the computer. It had an estimated time for reprogramming, one that made you frown. Moving back over to the computer, you sat down heavily, it would take another hour to process. An hour, it seemed, you needed to kill.
---
Bud came out of his stall blearily, you’d taken samples from the brassberries in order to analyze them during the wait, and in your focus you only barely noted when he stirred. A sense of panic seemed to overtake you as you shot up. Moving quickly, you carefully removed the needles from his soul and eyes, and unstrapped him from the chair. He seemed dazed, the machine would often cause memory loss during the time it spent reprogramming, so if you moved quickly you could trick him into thinking this was all a dream.
You took him from the chair as quickly as you could, and practically sprinted up the stairs, to get him to his enclosure. Your husband shot you an inquisitive look as you practically fell over yourself in your pointless rush to get Bud to his enclosure. To be honest you were acting rather silly, but at the same time, you didn't need him to start freaking out over a needle dentist chair while you checked if the reprogramming worked.
You managed to set him in his nest just before he came to.
“Mommy?” He asked, his voice still scratchy.
“Oh you’re awake.” You said breathlessly, struggling to sound normal and not as if you ran a marathon to get Bud to his bed.
“Mweh?” His eye-lights came back more focused as he frowned at you. “Mommy I had a scary dream, there was a needle chair and you were mean saying we were playing a game.” He had tears coming from his sockets. “Why do my eyes hurt, and where are my clothes! Mommy I want my clothes!” He stated, crying more as he looked at you pitifully.
You decided this would be the best moment to test out his tantrums. Bud hated baths, mentioning taking one usually sent him into a tantrum.
“That dream sounds scary.” You confirmed, before quickly changing the subject. “But don’t worry we were going to take a bath, you can play and forget all about it in there.” You stated your voice saccharine, despite how much hatred you held for this particular bitty.
Bud looked at you with a pouty expression, and your heart skipped a beat. Holy shit, he didn't immediately throw himself into a tantrum!
“But mommy I hate baths! I don’t wanna!” He said, crossing his arms, and turning away from you. You grinned, counting this as a success, before you quickly moved onto the next thing you needed to test. His jealousy.
“Are you sure? Well I guess I could give the fluffies a bath instead, I’ve been meaning to spoil them. They’ve been so good lately.” You stated, watching as suddenly, Bud’s demeanor changed.
“What! NOOOOO! MOMMY ALWAYS GIVES THOSE STUPID FLUFFIES ATTENTION!!! YOU SHOULD ONLY PAY ATTENTION TO MEEEEEEE!!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH” Your grin fell as you watched Bud throw himself onto the floor screeching about how it was unfair. Before the darndest thing happened.
One of your fluffies came to see what the commotion was all about, and Bud, upon seeing the fluffy, hissed and lunged. You only barely managed to stop him from latching onto the unsuspecting fluffy before he got a hold. You braced yourself for him to attack you, but he seemed oddly enough be taking care in not hurting ‘you.’ His tail however managed to hit the fluffy and knock it over, after which he let out a triumphant shout.
“YEAH! THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR TAKING MOMMY'S ATTENTION FROM MEEEEE!” He screeched.
Your hopes plummeted to the ground at that, the reprogramming had only been half effective. He wouldn't hurt ‘you’ but it seemed that he would go after bitties no problem.
Suppressing a scream you practically threw Bud into his enclosure. The thud was followed by scratching as he tried to race to escape, all the while screeching about hating fluffies. Not willing to give him time to escape and injure your innocent fluffy, you scooped up the sobbing fluffy, before closing the door behind you and locking it. You heard a thud for the nth time that day. You grimaced at the sound scratching against the door as Bud hissed and tried to get at the fluffy. You’d have to add replacing a door to the list of expenses Bud was wracking up.
Holding the fluffy up to your chest you slid down the door to the floor, letting out a muffled scream as you stroked soothing circles on the soft down of the fluffys skull. You contemplated all the ways you could skin the pygmy in your mind before a cough snapped you out of your reverie.
“Ahem… I take it you failed?” Your husband smirked at you. Glowering with a half concerned, half gloating look as you sat in front of the door contemplating all the ways to kill a pygmy. You glared at him before clipping out a response.
“... Shut up.”
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Leave a suggestion on a way to curb misbehavior if there is something you’d like seen done to Bud.
