The Abuser’s Web Guide, Episode 15
By: Turboencabulator
The camera starts rolling, a brightly lit room, the sun shining in a large bay window, and the
pen built along the wall and into the curve of the window all come into focus. The shot cuts
through Interocitor doing white balance adjustments, testing a color card, and fussing with
his angles before starting.
“Hey everyone.” He says quietly, leaning down into a mic a bit. “Oh that’s going to be fun to
level in post. I need to be quiet for a few minutes though.”
He tips the shot down to show the pen, full of foals, all pressed together in the sunlight
having a group nap. A few wings flutter here and there, and occasionally a fluffy yawns and
stretches, then instinctively hugs into the next fluffy.
“Thought you all would appreciate this.” He says, just above a whisper. “This is filmed
probably two or three months before the vid uploads, because one of these fluffies, a filly,
specifically, we’re going to absolutely ruin. This is the episode on bitch mares. We’re going
to show you what makes them, why, and what you can do with 'em.”
He turns back to the pen, looking over the fluff pile in the sun while carefully, quietly
changing the nutrient vials on the water lines.
“I think this one.” He says, hovering his finger above a strawberry colored earthie, her pink
mane just starting to be proper length.
The scene comes back in the usual opening shot, of Interocitor’s main fluffy room, behind his
white table. He comes into view, throwing a towel out of frame.
“Right, hello everyone.” He says, at a normal volume this time. “There’s been a few questions
lately about bitch mares, how to deal with them, and what makes it happen, so here we
are. We’ve picked out the demonstration fluffy, who I’ve named Berry, and we’ll be raising her
wrong to trigger bitchness on purpose.”
“But, that raises the question.” He continues, putting a small television on the table. “What
is the wrong way to raise a mare?”
The TV turns on to show a FluffTV program, but muted.
“This is the first mistake. FluffTV is a fluffy-centric channel but its content is produced
entirely by Hasbro, and most of it is actually based on entertainment films originally intended
to be played in breeder factories. This emphasized things like the preference for HasBio or
Hasbro branded products and the committee-certified behavioral baseline, in the case of
fluffies for sale, but also for the fluffies kept in reserve for breeding to want to
breed. This, coupled with the physiological and psychological phenomena we will be covering in
a few minutes, makes it the worst possible thing you can show your fluffies.”
He puts the TV down under the table. “Despite the lawsuits preventing the more capitalist
elements such as brand preference in the programming, the majority of the imagery was simply
re-made with slightly modified scripts, in most cases. It has been shown that at least four
episodes of “Mummahs!” and three of “Babby Sing Time” are original to the breeding factory’s
internal video catalogue, with only the title cards and background music changed.”
“Later on we will be using a cough legally recorded cough FluffTV feed that has been
re-cut specifically for fillies and mares to view.”
After going under the table for a moment, he stands back up with a large 3D printed model of a
protein. “This is one of the primary culprits of bitch-mare syndrome. It’s a hormone with no
analogue in mammalia. This is fluffy-produced only. While it’s been isolated, and the effects
of it are understood, the method by which it works is only partially documented. I am not going
to try and pronounce the name, so for now let’s call it the mummah-hormone.”
“The mummah hormone is only produced when a fertilized egg attaches to the wall of the womb.”
He says, pulling up a chart of female fluffy reproductive anatomy. “This gland here is
essentially a reproductive signal box, and is the primary controller of gestation
hormones. Upon attachment, the gland produces two hormones, one of which is the mummah-hormone, and three more during later parts of gestation. These control things such as lactation,
protectiveness instincts, nesting instincts, the functional cycle of the umbilicus in the womb,
and of course, triggering labor.”
He flips the chart around to show a fluffy brain. “However, the way the mummah-hormone
interacts with a fluffy’s neurology is dependent on the fluffy’s age. This is the part that is
not one-hundred-percent documented, but it works roughly like this.”
He indicates a gland in the middle of the fluffy’s skull. “First, this is the adrenals, and
this,” he says, indicating a cluster of tissue, “is the posterior pituitary. These release
dopamine, the primary reward hormone, and oxytocin, the love hormone. These two, as well as the serotonergic systems throughout the brain, get a massive kick when the mummah-hormone interacts with the brain. One side effect is that serotonin binding sites get some mummah-hormone stuck in them, which is believed to be part of the cause for the sudden personality change, most notably leading to deprioritizing the human-fluffy social bond.”
“By some combination of this upset to the normal hormonal cycles in the fluffy’s brain, as well
as the direct action of the mummah-hormone in its own signaling path, a susceptible female is
basically diverted down an alternate neuropsychological development path, which plasticizes
almost as soon as it is completed.”
After digging under the table, he pulls up another chart, showing the differences in fluffy
neurology. “Here you can see in the unbred female normal brain development, but in the bred
female there is modified activity in the areas controlling higher executive function, and
higher activity in the places that control emotion and gratification.”
“In essence, the mummah-hormone shuts down the connection with humans, at least partially, and hard-wires the fluffy to, first, make babies, and second, raise the ones that please her. This
leads to foal favoritism, and the ostracization of foals of unfavorable color. Since fluffies
are simple in their associations, this is where ‘poopy’ babies tend to come from. This is of
course encouraged by enough breeders that it persists.”
“There is also a sudden sensitivity to the ‘runt smell’, which is basically the pheromone
version of a failed checksum. It is used to indicate a probably defective product. Even though
the fluffy might be perfectly fine, it is ‘out of specification’, so to speak, and thus the
mother culls it, saving time and effort on the part of the breeders.”
He puts the images away. “These changes, however, are not complete. According to what little
documentation was recovered from HasBio, there was supposed to be a matching set of information embedded in the, for lack of a better term, ‘basic programming’ of a fluffy that would be activated upon the mummah-hormone creating these changes. This is missing, so the fluffy is
left in its ‘for sale’ state, but with the ‘breeder’ drives. This leads to a new dam being
forced to rationalize its internal sensations and drives with what is has been taught and what
their human is saying, which is the source of most of the misbehavior.”
“What is interesting though is that after around six months the fluffy brain stops being
susceptible to the mummah-hormone’s effects, reducing it to a simple signaling hormone to tell
the fluffy they’re pregnant, and to elevate their mood. This effectively terminates the risk of
permanent bitch-mare syndrome.”
“So these are two of the three elements that commonly lead to bitchification.” He says, putting
the TV up again. “First, is bad education. Second, is incorrect timing of the first pregnancy.”
He says, indicating the model. “The third is entirely on the human, poor establishment of the
human-fluffy relationship. This can be either neglect, or spoiling, or any other flavor of
unhealthy relationship.”
“The poor education and poor relationship work together. A filly or mare might think that being
neglected can be fixed by having babies, because ‘babies make everything better’, as the show
says. A spoiled one might think they’re entitled to it because ‘babies are the best thing
ever’. You can see how this develops for a large range of behaviors.”
He starts putting things away under the table. “One of the interesting side effects of
bitch-mare syndrome is egotism, which is often the cause of smarty foals, since the favorite
must be the favorite because it is the ‘best’, just like their mummah. Since unis are, on the
average, dumber, this tends to sink in more with them.”
“But, that’s enough lecturing for now. The next section will be the purposeful mis-raising of
Berry, after a quick tour of the setup and plan.”
The filly is bouncing around in a pen with another, a kiwi-green pegasus with a blue
mane. They’re having a romp and kicking a ball back and forth. Interocitor voices over. “I
actually acquired Berry from a friend of mine. They let me film the first scene in their foal
room. It’s better if Berry thinks I’ve adopted her, rather than use one of my own stock that
know I’m a caretaker, but not their ‘daddy’. She’s here playing with an unnamed friend. I have
adopted her as well as a control group to show the correct method of raising a mare.”
“This same friend also pointed out that it would be a bit out of accuracy to use an edited
FluffTV feed, so we’ll be using an unaltered one.” He says as a person with a censored face
walks into shot and crouches by the pen.
“Hey.” She says, her voice distorted, but still definitely female. “Remember how I said if you
were patient and good fluffs you’d get homes?”
The pair stopped playing and ran over, eyes big, standing up against the pen wall, their tails
swooshing in excitement.
“Is day gun gu tu famiwy?” The pegasus asked, dancing on her hind legs.
“Yes, you both have a daddy each coming.”
The duo cheered and hugged, then Berry looked up. “U said daddy each? Nu gu same housie?”
“I’m sorry girl, two daddies, different housies. One today.” She said, giving Berry a little
tap on the nose. “One tomorrow.” A tap for the other.
They hugged to each other while the caretaker stepped out of frame, rummaging through
things. “Time to make good litterbox, he’ll be here soon.”
Interocitor is driving, the camera tipped down to show Berry in a padded fluffy car-pen, just
big enough she can stretch out laying down, and topped with a clear acrylic dome. She has her
forehooves up on the edge of the pad, looking around as the sights of the world drive by.
“So, I think we’d best come up with a name for you.” Interocitor says, absentmindedly.
Berry immediately spins around, falling over on the padded bottom with a light ‘oof’ sound. She
gets back up, excitedly dancing against the wall of the dome. “Daddeh gib fwuffy namesie tu?
Best day ebber!”
“How about Berry?”
“Wub name!”
Berry went about prancing and singing a happy new-name song in the car carrier, before flopping
over and having a little nap.
The scene cuts to a fluffy saferoom. Half the floor is raised and padded at hip height, with a
clear wall preventing any jumping out. At one end is a window, and the other has a little cove
with a bed under a star-field canopy. There’s toys, a litterbox, a water source and food dish,
and right in the middle is a television, mounted at an appropriate height and distance for a
fluffy to sit or lay down and watch. Supplies are stowed underneath, and the walls are
decorated with a pastoral scene.
Interocitor walks in with Berry in hand. “And this is your saferoom, Berry.” He places the
filly down in the enclosure and rummages around in the storage underneath while she runs
around, exploring and squealing in happiness.
“Dis bestest safewoom ebew! Wub nyu housie an woom, fank yu daddeh.” She says, dancing on her
hind legs for a moment. Interocitor springs up and gently rolls her on her back, giving her a
tickle. She giggles and swats at his hand lightly before he lets her up. She immediately gets
up and uses the litterbox.
“Good girl.” He says, pulling up a stool and filling her food bowl. “Now, Berry. We need to
have a little talk.”
She prances over and starts eating, then looks up at Interocitor. “Wut tawk daddeh?”
“So, I want you to know you’re not in trouble, but there’s going to be days where I can’t be
around a lot.” He says, speaking slowly and quietly. “I have a job which is what lets us have
nice things, and lets me have a sweet little fluffy like you. So it’s very important. No job
means no things and no house. I’ll be around for you as often as I can but some days you might
get to feeling a bit lonely.”
Berry nods quietly. “It otay daddeh, cawetakew fwom wast housie teww awwwwww fwuffies bout
jobbies. Bewwy kno how nu be bowed.”
“Well that’s good. Now I have set up a TV just for you here.” He says, pointing at the
television. “The green circle turns it on, the red ‘x’ turns it off.”
Berry looks back at the blank black square. “Neber had a teebee befow. Fankyu daddeh.”
There’s a few minutes where Interocitor shows Berry around, and then for a while, they
play. Interocitor takes Berry out and they snuggle while Interocitor listens to the radio on a
couch. Eventually, he returns her to the saferoom for the night.
The shot cuts to a small office, with monitoring systems for Berry’s saferoom pen
running. Interocitor is pulling a shot of espresso from a machine in the corner before he sits
down and turns to the camera.
“So if the preamble about having a job didn’t tip you off, we’re going the neglect route for
this. All her physical needs will be taken care of, but attention will be reduced to about an
hour a day by the time she’s an adult. Tomorrow we’ll be picking up the green pegasus, Clover,
and we’ll be raising her correctly.”
The image cuts to shots through the security feed, showing Berry playing with her ball, then
with blocks, before turning and investigating the television. She turns it on, to an episode of
‘Stallion Prance’, for training show fluffies. After a minute, she gets bored, turns off the
television, and uses the litterbox before tucking in for the night.
The next day, Interocitor wakes her up from her bed, feeds and plays with her for a little,
then exits the room. The shot changes to him in the office, halfway through a coffee. “Hey
all. So I’m going to go pick up Clover this morning and get her set up in my main office. This
is just a little one for editing and monitoring the saferoom, as well as a punishment closet I
have set up for when Berry eventually starts to act up. We’ll tune back in with me and Clover
when I’m back but for now, enjoy observing.”
The scene switches back to security footage from the saferoom. Berry watches the bird bath and
feeders outside for a while, then the footage speeds up. She does the usual fluffy things,
play, use the litterbox, eat, nap, wander around, stare off into the sky and giggle to
herself. The footage returns to normal speed when she turns the television on again.
It’s an episode of ‘Getting Big’, a show explaining to fluffies about growing up. This seems to
be much more Berry’s speed, as she sits and watches the infotainment. She learns about growing
big, and eating healthy, and not being lazy. Then at the end of the show, something new is
mentioned.
“And remember, fluffies who are expecting babies need to be careful and rest when they can, and
eat extra healthy!”
The show continues, but Berry tilts her head a little.
“Babbies?”
Interocitor sets Clover down in a large pen, built level with a desk in his office, and also
with a window available to her. The same toys and ray, bed and space are available to her, but
no television.
“Right, Clover, this is your safe pen, it’s here in my office. Now, a lot of the time I’m going
to need to be working, so I can’t play all the time, but I’ll be here, ok?”
“Otay daddeh. Wub safey-pen.” She says, wagging and full of affection.
“Now, I’m going to go and get some lunch for us, and I’ll be back in a little, alright?” He
says, before giving her a pat and heading out.
Clover explores her pen, before giggling and waving at the mailman through the window. She
explores further before sitting down and looking curiously at Interocitor’s desk.
After a few minutes Interocitor comes back in, setting down a bowl of fresh veg and grains for
Clover, and a large cobb salad at a table next to his desk.
“Daddeh, wut am big bwack squawe fings?” Clover asks, pointing at the dual monitors.
“Oh, those are the monitors. They’re like TVs for my workstation.” He says, turning them on and
booting the computer. “You saw Kayleigh’s daughter playing videogames, right?”
Clover nods, eating slowly.
“Well those videogames are made by a whole lot of people. Some of them make the music, some of 'em make the places you run around in, and more things.” Interocitor explains, pulling up a
program with a big demon-looking monster model loaded.
She eeps and falls over before getting up again, looking at the model, nervous. “Dat scawwy
daddeh.”
“Sorry, but what I do is I help make the people and things in the world.” He says, picking up a
tablet pen and using it to jiggle the demon’s head around. “See? It’s like drawing or painting
but in game stuff.”
“Oooh.” Clover says, watching it. “Dat wooks hawd.”
“It takes a lot of time.” He says, pulling up a music player. “I’m going to have some music
while I work, alright?”
“Otay daddeh.”
The footage goes into fast forward, Interocitor working and occasionally talking with Clover,
or rolling the ball around. There’s a cut and it shows Berry playing, then it slows as she
watches two episodes on Fluff TV, a round of ‘Getting Big’, and then ‘Dancie Babies’. During
the second, she starts to dance, but more and more she’s just watching, and shuffling a bit in
place, thinking.
Intertitle: Two weeks later.
The footage opens on a much-grown Berry, spending almost all day watching FluffTV. Some
programs, like those for stallions, she plays during, but leaves the television on. When a
program she’s interested in, like ‘Babbies!’ or ‘Mummahtime’ comes on, she runs over and plops
herself down. The time with Interocitor is few and far between, but she occupies her day with
television and seems to be fine with it. At bedtime she turns the TV off and curls up in bed.
The shot changes to a cam in her sleeping area.
“Gun hab bestest babbies sumday. Babbies awe the mos wunnerfing… wunn… wunnerful. fing. in
da ebewyfin. Den daddeh gun spend aww day wit Bewwy an babbies.” She says to her stuffed cat,
as she snuggles in under the star-lit canopy and falls asleep.
Over on Clover’s side, she is also grown, though much more sleek and agile because she
maintains an active day routine. She talks often with Interocitor and asks him questions, and
has taken an interest in crayon drawing, sometimes trying to copy bits of the 3D modeling she
sees on the monitors. She also seems to enjoy dancing in various ways to the music he plays
while he works. In the latest footage however, she’s looking out the window, apparently in
thought.
“Clover?” Interocitor asks. “You ok?”
“Daddeh. Wook.” She says, pointing.
He leans out the window, to follow where she’s pointing.
“It’s the neighbor’s fluffies?”
“Dey hab babbies.” She says quietly.
“Hey yeah. I guess they finally got a special friend for their stallion.”
He turns back to work, for a few minutes, before noticing she’s still staring out the
window. “Clover, there’s something on your mind, isn’t there.”
She walks over and sits by where he’s working. “Daddeh, Cwovew wan babbies tu.”
He pauses, then turns to her. “Really now. What brought this on?”
“Unno. Hab empty feewin inside. Wike big nuffin in tummies. Den saw da next-housie babbies an I
knu big nuffin gu wai if hab babbies.” She says, carefully, and slowly.
“Clover, you know that babies are a lot of time and responsibility for both you and me, right?”
She nods.
“You’re very young, and growing up you have a lot of weird feelings in your body. This isn’t
the right time for babies. Someday, yes, but not now. Ok?”
“Otay daddeh.” She says quietly, and goes back to starin out the window, thinking. “An if yu
had time?” She asks.
“Even if I had time, girl. You’re young, and having babies is hard on your body. You need to be
older to make sure they come out safe and strong. The mare next door is two years old and she
just had her first litter.”
She nods quietly, looks out the window for a bit, and then goes back to drawing.
Interocitor turns the camera on in the middle of the night, in his editing and monitoring
room. “Hey folks, got some new developments. We’re about a month and a half in, and uh… well
this started happening.”
The shot cuts to low-light security footage. It’s midnight, and Berry quietly gets up and
listens, then goes over, turning the television on. The low set volume is still picked up on
the camera microphones.
Berry spends the next two hours watching ‘Special Huggies’. She watches intently as mares and
stallions have at it, some in a park, others in a saferoom. In the last half hour she shifts,
rolling on one hip and lifts her leg, looking at her groin.
She slowly begins to paw at her groin, and apparently bumps her clitoris, making herself jump
with a little squeak sound. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes for her to start rubbing
herself, watching the television, and squirming.
After a few minutes she stiffens up, falling on her side and squirming, shivering.
The shots cuts back to Interocitor. “Well I expect her to start demanding soon. Clover has been
perfectly well behaved so far, and aside from some minor moodiness once in a while she’s
understood she needs to wait.”
Interocitor is feeding Berry in the morning, whistling quietly.
“Daddeh, Bewwy wan babbies.” She says, looking up at him. She’s fully grown at this point, and
quite rotund.
“Oh? That’s a lot of work.” He says, patting her softly. “It’s going to need a lot of time from
both me and you. If you want babies it’s going to need to be in a while, ok?”
“But daddeh babbies awe bestest fin eberrr, can’t hab babbies nao?” She pleads, dancing from
hoof to hoof, antsy.
“No Berry, you need to wait for when Daddy can make sure you and I can take care of the babies
properly. You need to be patient.” He says, giving her a little tickle. “I’ve got some free
time this afternoon, I’ll be in after lunch and we can play a while.”
He goes out, leaving Berry staring after him. Slowly her cheeks puff and she starts to eat her
food, muttering. “Siwwy daddeh nu unnerstand babbies awe bestest fing. When Bewwy hab babbies den he unnerstan.”
After eating, she goes to the window and sits, watching the birds. Then she spots a flash of
blue in the bushes. A stallion creeps into the yard and darts over to a crabapple tree, eating
at the fallen fruit. Berry perks up, standing up at the window, nose pressed against the glass.
She waves at the stallion, who spots her and waves back.
Later that day, Interocitor comes in to play and finds the playroom defecated in, the food bowl
overturned, and Berry standing with her cheeks puffed.
“Daddeh! Wan speciaw fwiend! Wan hab BABBIES!” She shouted, stomping her feet.
“Berry.” Interocitor said, voice full of steel. “What did I tell you this morning? You need to
wait.”
“Nu. Nu wait DUMMEH. Wan babbies NAO. NAO NAO NAO NAO NAO NAO NAO NA-mphrm.” She shouts, stomping with each word, until Interocitor closes her mouth firmly.
“Young lady. Not only do you not listen, you purposefully make a mess of your pen, make bad
poopies, insult me, and behave like a spoiled brat.” He says, looking down at her, letting some
anger creep into his voice. “First is a naughty bath, to get that MESS out of your fur. Then
you’re spending until bedtime in the Sorry Box.”
She tries to shake loose of his grip and protest but he keeps his grip, hauling her out of the
pen and taking her out of frame.
The shot cuts to Berry in the punishment closet, a cloth bag over her head poking out of a
clear box. There’s blunt arrow-shaped ridges in the bottom of the box, and a textured floor,
prevening her from laying down and making it feel like she’s standing on rice. An open jar of
horseradish is on the shelf under her nose.
“Huu huuu meanie daddy wet Bewwy outta sowwy box, Bewwy sowwy huuuuuu pwease, nu wike meanie boxie an buwnie nu-smeww-pwetties, uhuhuuuuuu…”
A cut back to Interocior cleaning the pen up. “Well that was a bit more of a reaction than I
expected. Weekends when I’m not working she gets to come out and wander the house with me, I
expect she’ll bolt for the stallion’s warm, thrusting embrace as soon as I take my eye off
her.”
He turns to the camera and an animated pair of eyes over the mosaic winks before
vanishing. “Yeah I knew about the stallion. He’s one of mine as well, an alicorn, but his
mother bit his wings off to ‘fix’ him. He likes to help me with teaching and since the whole
yard is fenced in, he gets his rocks off and we get our bitch without risk of her actually
running away.”
He returns to cleaning the pen. “And with a bit of luck she’ll squirt out a few alicorns. Delta
would like some kids like him.”
Interocitor returns Berry to her pen, both her and it freshly cleaned.
“Now Berry. What have we learned?”
She sniffles, looking down at the ground and kneading it, ashamed. “Nu caww daddeh bad wowdies, an wissen when daddeh sez nu. Dun use poopies to make messies an awways use wittabawks. An use wowds, not yewwing.”
“There you go. Now, I’m going to get your food, and then it’s bedtime.”
“Otay daddeh. Sawwy daddeh.” She mumbles, then pushes into his hand as he scritches behind her ears for a moment.
He goes out, and she immediately goes to the window, looking out earnestly, her tail flipping
back and forth a bit. The light’s gone a bit too low though, and she grumbles to herself before
heading over to her bed and tucking in for the night. The footage fast-forwards until midnight,
when she wanders over to her litterbox for nocturnal relief.
After a minute she trots over to the corner nearest the door, standing stock still,
listening. She looks through the glass towards the floor, checking for light coming through
underneath. Once sure she’s not going to be overheard, she trots over to the television and
turns it on again, watching what amounts to fluffy porn for nearly an hour before working off
her tension manually and going back to bed.
Intertitle: That weekend.
Interocitor is adjusting settings on the camdrone from a tablet. “Hey all, Clover’s at the vet
for some intestinal distress, so we can focus on Berry this weekend.” The shot turns away from
him as he flies the camdrone over to the back door.
He walks over to the back door and opens it, then flies the camdrone out and parks it on the
roof. The shot changes to a normal camera, showing him leaving the back door cracked, just a
centimeter or so. “Now, Berry has been out with me at least one day every weekend, so she knows she’s not supposed to be outside unsupervised. What she doesn’t know is that the entire yard is fluffy-proofed, can’t get in or out without someone literally throwing them over the fence.”
After making up the breakfast dishes in the kitchen, he walks over to the saferoom and finds
Berry already awake. She goes into the uppies pose immediately.
“Yey daddeh-day, is daddeh-day!” She shouts, happily. Interocitor picks her up, keeping her
against his chest, and walks out with her.
“Well aren’t you up bright and early today.” He says.
“Yus daddeh.” She responds. She tries not to turn her head much, but the camera catches her
looking towards the back door until it passes beyond her sight-line.
A breakfast passes by in fast motion until they go to the living room and start to play. After
a bit, Interocitor gets up. “Berry I’ll be right back, need to use the bathroom.”
“Hoomins nee’ make guud poopies too.” She says, then bursts out giggling.
He laughs once. “Tha’s right.”
As soon as he’s in the bathroom and the door’s closed, Berry is chugging at full speed for the
back door. A moment of huffing and pulling at the edge and she has enough space to slip out
onto a wide back deck.
Interocitor turns on the camdrone and lifts it off from the roof, flying it over the yard and
searching. Eventually it finds Berry nuzzled up cheek to cheek with Delta behind a tall old oak
tree. The distance is too far for the microphone to be useful.
Eventually though she turns and presents her hindquarters. Delta, of course, needs no further
encouragement, and springs on top of her, mounting and beginning to thrust rhythmically. The
microphone picks up the high-pitched grunty sounds of fluffies fucking now.
The shot cuts to Interocitor’s own camera, following him as he goes out the back door.
“Berry?” He calls, pretending to be worried. “Berry, come on, it’s not safe out here.”
There’s a quiet shout of guud feews from somewhere, and Interocitor sighs and facepalms
quietly. “That was fast.”
He sneaks over to the tree, very quiet, steering his cam around the trunk.
Berry is dragging ass on the grass, furtively looking around. “Speciaw fwien, cum on, nee’ wun
way ow daddeh gun be angy.”
Delta tilts his head, sitting down. “Why daddeh be angy?”
“Daddeh say nu can hab babbies untiw fowebbew fwom nao.” Berry says, puffing her cheeks. “Bu’
Bewwy gunna be bestest mummah. Den cum bak an show daddeh babbies bestest an guud an make ebewyfin 'mazin and speciaw an happy an den daddeh gun HAFTA spend awww de time wif Bewwy.”
“An Dewta.”
“An Bewwy-speciaw-fwien.”
With that, Berry immediately went over to the fence and began trying to find a way
through. “Cum on, speciaw fwien, nee’ wun way.”
“Bu’ Bewwy.” Delta says, pokin her soft. “Dewe nu guud nummies out dewe. Dun u need nummies fow babbies?”
Berry froze, thinking. She turned to Delta. “Wut u mean nu guud nummies? Daddeh bwing nummies fwum outsidies an dey bestest nummies ebber.”
Delta shook his head. “Hoomins nu get fwom jus outsidies, dey gu tu big pwace wike hoomin
nummie-piwe an den bwing back tu housie in ki’chin. Dewe nu guud nummies in fowest, is aww
gwassies an bad-tummy-bewwies an twashy-nummies.”
Berry huued quietly, looking around. “Den hao gun get guud nummies? Nee’ bestest nummies fow babbies.”
“Onwy pwace u cud get guud nummies is fwum yu daddeh.” Delta says, quietly.
After much thinking and turning around, and one moment taking a leak under a bush, Berry
nods. “Gun make daddeh gib bestest nummies.”
She stomps out of the bush, to see Interocitor standing there, arms folded. She puffs her
cheeks and stomps up to him.
“Daddeh. Bewwy am soon-mummah. Yu gib Bewwy bestest nummies nao. Nee’ bestest nummies fow babbies an bestest miwkies.” She proclaims, watching him.
Interocitor turns to Delta. “You have fun there, boy?” He asks.
Delta nods happily. “Yus daddeh. Can Dewta gu bak insidies? Wan hab nappies nao.”
“Go ahead.” Interocitor says, then turns to watch Delta go and nose his way inside a fluffy
gate set in the base of the house. There’s a loud blort sound, and he turns back, looking
down to find his wellingtons covered in fluffy excrement.
“Dummy daddeh take sowwy-poopies. Nao gib bestest nummies. NAO.” Berry shouted.
Interocitor stares at her, and she slowly loses the puff in her cheeks, growing nervous.
Then she screes as he snatches her up by her scruff.
The shot opens on Interocitor hosing his boots off, Berry muzzled and trussed up with paracord
on the table nearby. She’s squirming and huffing, trying to shout through the muzzle. He takes
a moment to spray her ass with the cold hose, making her scree.
“Right, well now that she’s knocked up, the bitch-mare syndrome is permanent. She’s basically
unsalvageable at this point.” He says, turning to her and poking her side. “If you had just
waited until I said, you’d have had a perfectly fine time having babies and being happy in your
saferoom.”
She struggles harder, glaring daggers at Interocitor. He sets his boots aside and picks her up
by the paracord and carries her in. “So now you’re going to live in the bad-mummah pen.”
He takes her down into the basement, into the fluffy area. She looks around, inverted,
surprised at the number of fluffies here. He goes through a door and drops her in a simple pen,
on one side of the room. There’s no television, just a bed, litterbox, foot tray and water
source, and a few simple toys. There is however, a radio set into the wall of the pen, next to
a wide mirror.
After slipping her muzzle off, and untying her, he turns to grab a fresh bowl of food when
there’s a snarl and Interocitor tenses up, slowly turning back to find Berry has bitten down on
his hand, grinding her teeth in.
“Berry.” He says, voice level. “You might be a mother. But I swear to god if you keep being a
little fucking cunt I’m going to take away your leggies, your see places, and your
teethies.”
She slowly lets go of his hand, backing away slowly. He puts the good food back, dropping a
flavorless mummah-kibble in her dish. “You are a terrible, bad, meanie fluffy. You hurt me,
ignored when I was trying to make sure you could have babies safely, and now you attack me.”
Berry looks at his hand, then at the dish. “Fwuffy sowwy daddeh. Pwease can hab gud nummies?”
“I know you’re lying.” Interocitor says. “You aren’t sorry. And these nummies are special. They
don’t taste pretty, but they’ll make sure you make best babies every time. You don’t get tasty
nummies anymore. You were that bad.”
With that he leaves the room, ignoring her protests. Never once did she call herself by her
name.
Interocitor went into the adjacent room, Delta already there on a padded shelf looking through
the one-way mirror. Another fluffy, a big overgrown earthie stallion was walking up a padded
ramp from the floor.
“Hewwo daddeh.” The earthie said, making Delta turn and look before he went back to watching
Berry.
“Hi Moose. What’s up?” Interocitor asks, taking a seat with Delta just as Moose gets to the
platform.
“Hewe su Dewta can haz nappies.” Moose says before plopping heavily down next to Delta. “Yu gu
nappies nao.” He says, bluntly, before turning to stare at Berry through the glass.
Delta wanders over to a fluffy-bed and curls up in it, with a little grumble. “Bewwy weawwy bad
fwuffy. Yu suwe babbies be otay?”
Interocitor nods, quite sagely. “The only thing she cares about is being a mother. She’ll do
everything she thinks is necessary to have good children.”
“An when babbies cum?” Delta asks, head on the cushion.
“I’ll take them. You think Pear will be ready to help you raise them?”
Delta thinks for a moment. “Mebbeh. Might nee’ hewp wit makin miwkies.”
“Oh that won’t be a problem.” Interocitor says, a grin in his voice.
Intertitle: One very adversarial pregnancy later.
Berry is in the middle of labor, Interocitor gently taking the babies as they’re squeezed out,
drying them with a vet wipe, and setting them in a tray. Berry’s on her side, screeching and
sobbing as the litter comes out.
“Damn, girl.” Interocitor says as the ninth child comes out, the fifth alicorn. “You had a lot
in you didn’t you?”
Berry’s panting, laying there in a daze and occasionally groaning. “Speciaw pwace HAFF suu
sowe.”
“I bet.” He says, carefully tucking the chirpies in and picking up the tray. “You rest there,
Berry.”
With a groan, Berry sits up. “Nu, nee’ gib miwkies tu… daddeh why yu hab babbies?”
“You don’t get babies.” Interocitor says, staring down at her. “You disobeyed, attacked me,
tried to spray me multiple times, and you have been a horrible fluffy. These babies will never
be yours and you will never see them.”
She just stares at him as he leaves. The door shuts, and there is a brief moment of silence.
Then Berry screeches in rage, throwing a tantrum and rampaging around the pen, throwing things
and screaming garbled half-phrases. Eventually Interocitor comes back in and reaches to grab
her. She clamps onto his wrist, biting down as hard as she can and shaking her head.
Interocitor cups her head and uses the tip of his thumb to dig into the joint of her jaw, into a
nerve cluster. Berry immediately goes limp, screaming in agony. He just keeps the pressure
going, letting her spasm, pawing at the air as her jaw hangs limp, distorting her screaming
with every breath. Eventually her eyes roll up and she blacks out.
The shot opens again with Interocitor sitting by a table. Berry is in a leg isolation board on
the table, muzzled, and hooked up to a milker.
“Hey all, so Berry turns out to be an alicorn factory so this decides her fate for me. When you
have a bitch-mare the options are fairly limited. They don’t make good pets in general, so your
options outside of an abuse target are just to get rid of them, or use them as a breeder.”
Berry is struggling in the board, snorting, glaring at Interocitor. He reaches over and turns
up the milker, making her squeal and struggle harder, wincing in pain.
“Getting rid you have a few choices. Mare-meat is quite good for cooking, and you can always
sell her off to a breeder or mill. Or a brothel if you feel particularly mean. However breeder
use is also viable, as is converting her to a milkbag or enfie mare. Fuckpillows are always
useful if you have a particularly randy stallion, just get her spayed and pillowed. If you have
more than one stallion, also get her teeth removed. Which you might want to do anyways to
prevent her from having a method of harming breeding stallions.”
Berry has gone quiet, listening, now nervous. Interocitor continues. “However, I want to
continue breeding Berry and Delta. Alicorns are good for the population here and sell well
besides. So.” He turns to her, petting her lightly. “We’re going to take away your leggies, and
your eyes, and your teethies. We’re going to make you have lots of babies, but you’ll never
know them. You’ll just be fucked and milked and when you can’t give me any more babies, we’ll
do a little cutting to tighten up that stretched-out old cunt so you can spend the rest of your
life as a fuckpillow.”
Interocitor turns back to the camera. “If only she had listened when I asked her to wait. Well,
in any case, some of you might be wondering about her trying to off herself. She won’t. As soon
as we get her knocked up again, the bitch-mare syndrome kicks in its influence to make sure she
wants to stay alive until her babies come.”
He gets up, setting out surgical tools where Berry can see. She’s crying looking up at him with
a pleading expression, whimpering.
After firmly holding her chin, he picks up a knife and uses his thumb to hold her upper eyelid
open. “Berry, I think I’ll start with your eyes.”
She starts to scream, the terror plain through the muzzle.
Clover is tiredly cleaning her first litter, five healthy babies, two already on her teats and
feeding. Interocitor is bottle feeding a third. “Hey all. Clover here was patient and we found
her a special friend.”
The shot pans to show a very serious-looking silver unicorn sitting nearby, a vaguely satisfied
look on his face. “Even if he is a sourpuss.” Interocitor says. The fluffy blinks and looks up
at him, then sticks its tongue out for a second.
Interocitor laughs and the shot turns back to him. “So, it’s been a bit, as you might have
guessed, since we started filming this episode. It’s cold out now.”
The shot cuts to a pen of foals playing, Delta curled up with a unicorn mare at the
back. “Delta and his special friend Spearmint were happy with two litters, even if they did
come from Berry. Pear needed help with the milk though so we kept breeding Berry with other
alicorns. Delta and Spearmint have seventeen, eleven of which are alicorns. It took a while to
explain the concept of ‘sterility’ to the two but I think they’re just happy to be parents now.”
Then it cuts to Berry. She’s an eyeless pillow in a special enclosure, being vigorously humped
by a sparkly black alicorn. Berry is obviously sobbing, her sniffles and warped attempt at
speech through a toothless mouth only half audible over the lusty grunting of the
stallion. After a minute, the alicorn spasms, shouting about the feels, and dismounts, wiping
his junk on Berry’s haunches.
“Had your fill, Astro?” Interocitor asks, walking into frame. The alicorn nods and bounces in
place once.
“Yus daddeh, enfie-piwwow-mawe gib bestest feews.” Astro says.
Interocitor picks the stallion up and puts him outside the breeding room. “Alright, now gowan
and play. Sesame street is nearly on.”
He walks back over and strokes Berry slowly. She cringes and shakes, squirming.
“Well folks, hopefully you’ve got a good idea of what happens with bitch-mare syndrome
now. There really isn’t an effective treatment once it happens, unfortunately. The best you can
do is going to depend on your situation but none of your choices is going to be tolerating the
little tyrant.” He says, patting Berry lightly. “Berry here is going to be making lots of
babies for me, though.”
He leans down and says right in her ear. “It’s what she wanted after all.”