Margaretn awkwardly put her hoofs together and looked up towards the night sky.
“Um, hewwo Sky-Daddeh, dis am Mah-gah-wet. Am sowwy nu tawkies tu yu befowe, bu Mah-gah-wet nu knyo bout yu tiww Wittew Mummah say su. Wittew Mummah hab biggesh heawt-happies wight nyo, she make boo-boo juice fwom hew speciaw-pwace, wich Mah-gah-wet fot was scawy bu Big Mummah say it am ‘pewiod’, dat it meen Wittew Mummah am bein ‘woo-man’ nyo, she am Big Hoomin. Weww, Mah-gah-wet wan vewy muchies tu be ‘woo-man’ Fwuffy tuu, wan be Big Fwuffy wike Wittew Mummah, pwease Sky-Daddeh, can yu hewp Mah-gah-wet be Big Fwuffy?”
Margaret closed her eyes like she had seen Little Mummah and her parents do whenever they talked to Sky-Daddeh, and she wished as hard as she had ever wished before to be a Big Fluffy.
And then, slowly but surely, she felt something dripping out of her from between her legs, she angled her head down and there, contrasted nicely against the soft peach of her Fluff, was a dark red trickle of blood dribbling from her.
Margaret gasped, Sky-Daddeh had heard her.
“MUMMAH, MUMMAH! COME WOOK!”
Little Mummah came rushing through to see what had made Margaret so excited.
“What is it Margaret? Did you see a shooting staAAAAHHH!”
“Wook Wittew Mummah, Mah-gah-wet hab pewiod tuu, Mah-gah-wet am ‘woo-man’ tuu.”
Little Mummah stared at the blood dripping from Margaret and gulped back her immediate fears and worries.
“Um, Margaret… Fluffies don’t have periods.”
“Wha?”
“Yeah, it’s not something Fluffies have to deal with, whatever this is, isn’t natural.”
Margaret looked down between her legs again, the blood-flow hadn’t stopped, if anything it had increased slightly.
“Mah-gah-wet’s finkie-pwace feel diz-zee.”
The last thing Margaret saw was Little Mummah rushing to grab her as she fell unconscious.
“Give it to us straight Doc, what’s wrong with our Fluffy.”
Dr Jasper Hopkins didn’t look at Daddeh, he kept his gaze on the scans and test results in front of him, going over them again and again, trying to make sense of what had happened to this young mare.
“I’ll be completely honest with you Mr Blume, I have no idea. From what our tests have been able to pick up, it’s like Margaret’s entire uterus just… dissolved into nothing, but nothing else on her has been touched or harmed in anyway. It’s frankly impossible, but we have living proof that it’s not. In over 30 years of veterinary experience, I’ve never seen this before, on Fluffies or any other animal, I’m honestly stumped as to what to make of it all.”
As Daddeh and Dr Hopkins discussed the impossibility of the days events, Little Mummah and Margaret rested up in a private room where Margaret was happily licking on some sketti-flavoured ice-cream now that she was no longer slowly bleeding to death.
Little Mummah stroked Margaret’s head. “I’m so glad you’re ok now Margaret. You feeling better?”
Margaret nodded. “Yeh Wittew Mummah, nu knyo wha boo-boo juice in speciaw-pwace was, bu happies it nu gibben Mah-gah-wet huwties nu mowe.”
Little Mummah felt her blood chill. “Um, so, uh… what did the doctor tell you about the blood, was it anything serious or…”
“Weww, dok-toh say dat Mah-gah-wet nu hab a ‘Yoo-tah-wus’ aneemowe, bu Mah-gah-wet nu eben knyo she hab wun tu begin with.”
Little Mummah’s eyes widened with fear as she saw where this conversation was going.”
“Wha am a ‘Yoo-tah-wus’ aneeway Wittew Mummah?”
“…Goddammit.”
