“Cwismuss! Cwismuss! Sawwy wuv Cwismuss!” sang Sally, bouncing up and down excitedly on her daddy’s lap while they watched fluff TV.
“And what would you like for Christmas?” asked her daddy, scratching her behind the ears affectionately. “Good fluffies get presents for Christmas.”
Sally turned and looked up at her daddy with a look of wide eyed wonder. The young mare was a designer fluffy, specially bred to have turquoise fluff and a violet mane and tail.
“Sawwy can have pwesents? Weawy?” she asked unbelievingly.
Her daddy laughed at her, but it was a kind laughter.
“Of course. All good children and fluffies get presents for Christmas. That’s what Christmas is all about.”
Sally gazed at her daddy for a while, then turned back to watch the pretty colours of her FluffTV for a moment, then turned back to her daddy again.
“So… Sawwy can have pwesents?”
“Yes,” her daddy repeated. “Anything you want.”
“Anyfing? Weawy?”
“Yes!”
Sally looked off to one side for a moment, staring at the log fire that she was not allowed to get too close too. Then she looked at the Christmas tree, decorated with baubles, tinsel and little flashing lights, already laden with presents for her daddy’s human children, who would come to visit on Christmas day, from their mother’s house.
“Anyfing?” she asked again.
“Yes Sally,” her daddy repeated himself. “Anything.”
Sally laid down on her daddy’s lap, rubbing her snout against his leg for a moment. Then she turned to face him.
“In dat case, Sawwy want… babbehs.” Sally said, smiling and looking up at her daddy hopefully.
But her daddy’s face dropped.
“Sally, we talked about this. Good fluffies don’t ask for babies. Good fluffies do as they are told, and are good to their daddies.”
“But Sawwy wan babbehs so much daddah!” Sally begged.
“No, no babies.”
“But daddah! Daddah said fwuffy can have ANYFING!”
“No.”
“ANYFING!” Sally yelled
“No! and don’t shout at me. Only bad fluffies demand things and shout at their daddy.”
“Huu huu huu… Sawwy wan babbehs for Cwismuss Pwesents, an daddah nu gib dem,” Sally cried pitifully, “Dat mean daddah am mean, dat mean daddah nu wub fwuffy. Huu huu huu huu huu…”
Sally cried and cried, but her daddy didn’t listen. In fact, the more she cried, the angrier he became, until eventually, for only the second time in her life, he beat her with the sorry stick, and locked her in the sorry closet.
It was cold, dark and scary in the sorry closet, and Sally had to sleep next to the mop monsters and the vacuum cleaner monster. Sally was terrified of the vacuum cleaner monster, which growled really loudly, and she was sure that it wanted to num her whenever it was awake. Fortunately, it seemed to be sleeping at the moment.
“Huu huu huu… Fwuffy onwy want babbehs fow Cwismuss… An daddah nu gib dem. Daddah huwt fwuffy wiv sowwy stick, and wock in sowwy cwoset wiv da munstahs. Huu huu huu… Daddah nu wub fwuffy nu mowe…”
The night was long and miserable, and Sally cried herself to sleep.
The next morning, her daddy opened the door to the sorry closet, to find the designer fluffy soaked in her own tears and urine, next to a pile of bad scaredy poopies she had made, as she was scared that the vacuum monster would wake up and eat her.
“Oh Sally, you made a mess.” Her daddy said, in a not mean voice.
“Fwuffy am sowwy daddah!” cried Sally, so upset she had forgotten her own name.
“Are you really sorry?” her daddy asked.
“Yes! Fwuffy am weawy sowwy. Wiww nu ask fow babbehs nu mowe. Wiww nu shout at daddah. Fwuffy wiww be gud dis tiem! Fwuffy pwomise!”
“Well…” her daddy replied, sounding as though he didn’t really believe her. “Ok then, but you have to be good if you want to be hugged and loved again.”
“Fwuffy wiww be gud!” Sally begged, looking up at her beloved daddah with doleful eyes full of tears, “Fwuffy pwomise!”
“OK then, come here you adorable stinky little beast!”
Then her daddy picked her up, and gave her huggies, even though she was dirty and smelly.
Later, her daddy gave her a bath, with bubbles, and Mister Ducky. Then he blow-dried her fluff, and combed it until it was beautiful again. Then, he wrapped her up in a nice, warm towel, and put her back in her nesty, and gave her some tasty kibble to eat.
Sally told her daddy how much she loved him, and promised to be a good fluffy, and never to be bad again.
Daddy turned on FluffTV, and left her alone while he went to work.
Sally watched FluffTV all day, and tried her best not to think about how much she wanted babies.
But later that evening, she started begging and demanding them again.
“I’ve told you before!” shouted her daddy, after she asked for the third time that week. “NO BABIES. How often do I have to tell you?”
“But fwuffy weawy want dem!” she protested.
“I don’t care!” her daddy yelled at her. “Do you want to go back in the sorry closet again? Do you want the sorry stick? Again?”
Sally hesitated. She had been in the sorry closet last night again, despite having promised the morning before never to ask for babies again. And now, even though she had made the same promise earlier that morning, she was begging for babies again.
“Fwuffy wan… fwuffy wan… Babbehs. Fwuffy wan babbehs. Just some wittew babbehs. Wike on Fwuff Teebee. Fow Cwissmuss!”
Sally looked up hopefully, surely her daddy would understand? If she asked long enough, and hard enough, and he realised how much she needed them, surely he would give her babies for Christmas? Surely he loved her enough for that?
“No babies.” Her daddy simply said.
Sally became enraged. How dare he not give her babies? How dare he? She puffed out her cheeks and stomped her hooves on the floor.
“FWUFFY. WAN. BABBEHS!” she yelled.
Suddenly, her daddy had a very strange look on his face. Sally had never seen anything like it. It was a bit like he was happy, and a bit like he was angry, and a bit like he was laughing at a joke she could never hope to understand.
“Ok Sally,” her daddy said, in a strange tone of voice. “If you want babies, you can have them. For Christmas.”
Sally gasped. Her daddy was going to give her babies! A small part of her wondered why he looked and sounded so strange, but she ignored that in favour of feeling overwhelming glee!
“Babbehs! Fow Fwuffy? Weawy?” she asked.
“Yes, really. If you want babies so much, I will get some for you, for Christmas.”
“YEY!” Sally squealed for joy, wetting herself slightly in her excitement.
The next day, daddy was late home from work. Instead of coming straight into the living room, where Sally lived, he went into the kitchen, where she was not allowed, and where the sorry closet was. He was carrying a cardboard box with holes in the lid, and inside the box, Sally could smell… Babies! She could even hear them chirping.
“Daddah! Daddah hab got babbehs! Fow Fwuffy! Yey!” she whooped.
“No babies yet,” her daddy told her from the other room, while she peered around the doorway, desperate to love and hug and play with them. “The babies are for Christmas, remember? They have to stay in this box until then, and have pretty wrapping paper on the box.”
“But… Babbehs need huggies, an wub, an miwkies,” Sally protested, “An Sawwy wan babbehs naow!”
“No.” Said her daddy, in a voice so cold, it made Sally shiver a little bit. He turned and stared right through her. “No babies until Christmas morning. They stay in the box until then.”
“Uh… Otay daddah,” agreed Sally, feeling slightly afraid. She decided to do what her daddy aid, even though she wanted to cuddle and play with the chirping babies more than anything in the whole world.
“Good fluffy,” her daddy simply said, and started to wrap the box of chirping, peeping foals with brightly covered wrapping paper.
A short while later, her daddy placed the brightly coloured present box underneath the Christmas tree, and Sally rushed up to it, snuffling it with her nose. She could smell and hear the babies inside!
“Hewwow babbehs!” she told them, “Fwuffy am cawwed Sawwy! Sawwy wiww be bestest mummah! Wiww gib babbehs bestest huggies, and wub, an miwkies! Fwuffy wiww wun an pway wiv babbehs! Fwuffy wiww wub babbehs mowe dan anyfing!”
The babies just chirped and peeped inside the box. The smelled so delicious that Sally almost wanted to eat them. She could also smell that one or two of them had made scaredy poopies, but that was ok. Sally would give them licky-cleanies, and make everything better.
Then Sally saw her daddy looking down at her.
“Are you happy now Sally?” he asked her.
“Yes daddah!” Sally said, running up to him and hugging his leg tightly, “Sawwy WUB daddah! Daddah am bestest daddah ebew fow gib fwuffy babbehs fow Cwismuss!”
“That’s good Sally,” her daddy said, laughing, with the strange look on his face again.
“How wong tiww Cwissmuss daddah?” Sally asked her daddy.
“Oh, its Christmas in… four days.” her daddy told her.
Sally was tremendously excited.
The next day, Sally woke up early, and spent the whole morning sat next to the box of babies, talking to them, cuddling the box, and singing them soon mummah songs she had learned from FluffTV.
“Mummah wub babbehs! Babbehs wub mummah! Mummah gib miwkies! Gwow up, Big an Stwong!”
She talked to them for so long, and was so excited, that she didn’t notice when she needed to make poopies, and when she did realise, she didn’t get back to the litterbox in time. Making bad poopies on daddy’s floor was a thing that only very bad fluffies did, and when it happened, she was afraid that daddy might not let her have the babies after all.
“Huu huu… fwuffy am bad fwuffy… nu mean make bad poopies!”
Then a thought occured to her, if she gave the floor licky-cleanies, daddy wouldn’t know that she had made bad poopies. Then he would still let her have the babies after all!
It didn’t smell good, and it didn’t taste good either, but Sally gave the floor licky-cleanies, and nummed all of her bad poopies. Daddy would never know, and she would get to keep the babies.
Sally ran back to the box of babies.
“Mummah wub yu babbehs! Mummah wub yu mowe dan anyfing!”
Later that day, Sally started to worry about the babies. Their chirps were scaredy chirps. That meant that the babies needed huggies, love and milkies. Part of Sally wanted to rip open the box and look after them right away, but she knew if she did it that Daddy would take the babies away, beat her with the sorry stick, and put her in the sorry closet with the vacuum monster again. He might even let the vacuum monster num her!
“Daddah!” Sally begged, as her daddy got home from work. “Sawwy need babbehs naow! Dey awe making scawedy-cheeps! Dat mean dey need huggies, an wub, an…”
“No babies!” Her daddy said sternly, “Not till Christmas morning.”
“How wong tiww den daddah?” Sally asked him.
“Only another three days.”
Sally spent the next three days next to the box of babies. At first, she talked excitedly, and hugged the box, and sang more soon mummah songs, but gradually, she became more and more afraid.
The babies chirps grew weaker, and more afraid. Sally begged her daddy to let the babies out, but he just told her to be patient, and to wait until Christmas morning.
But now it was Christmas eve, and some of the babies had stopped chirping.
“Huu huu huu…” Sally wept, “Babbehs nu chiwp nu mowe… Pwease can Sawwy hab babbehs naow daddah? Pwease?”
“No Sally,” Her daddy told her simply, “Only bad fluffies demand babies, remember? Are you a bad fluffy Sally?”
“Nuuu…” Sally said, sniffling and trying not to cry, “Sawwy am gud fwuffy.”
“That’s right,” said her daddy, “Now, come and sit on my lap, and watch some FluffTV.”
Sally sat on her daddy’s lap, and he snuggled her and scratched her behind her ears, and put on her favourite FluffTV program.
The program was called Babies.
But Sally only half watched it. She mainly stared at the brightly wrapped Christmas present box of babies, and strained to hear if the last two babies were still chirping or not.
The next day dawned bright and early.
“Cwissmuss! Cwissmuss! Fwuffy wub Cwissmuss!” Sally sang to herself.
Her daddy came downstairs, and fed her… Sketties! Sketties for Breakfast! It was amazing! Sally decided that Christmas was the bestest day ever!
Then, it was time to open their presents.
Daddy opened his first. He had some ties, and some socks, and a bottle of whisky. Daddy didn’t seem excited to open his presents for some reason, but he seemed to like the whisky. He poured himself a big glass of it, and watched Sally as she struggled to open her presents.
Sally had three presents. She wanted desperately to open the box of babies first, but her daddy made her open the other presents first. It was really difficult to open them using only her hooves and teethies, but eventually she managed.
Her first present was… it was…
“A brand new sorry stick!” her daddy told her. “Isn’t that great! Now I won’t need to use the old sorry stick on you any more! This one is much better!”
Sally didn’t like her first present, but she smiled and hugged her daddy anyway, and thanked him for it.
Her second present was… it was…
“Its one of daddy’s poopies!” her daddy laughed, taking a long drink from his whisky glass. “Isn’t that great! Daddy really loves you!”
“Fwuffy pwesent am… poopies?” Sally asked, feeling saddened and confused, staring at the horrid and smelly turd in the box.
“Yup. Its a really special one too. I ate a really spicy curry before I made this one. Just for you Sally! Just for you!”
Finally, it was time to open the box of babies! Sally couldn’t hear them chirping anymore, but she was sure that they were just sleeping.
It took a while, and her daddy didn’t help her at all, but Sally finally managed to rip the box open with her hooves and teethies, while her daddy laughed and drank whisky.
The babie were inside! They were beautiful! They were red, and green, and white like snow, and they were all sleeping soundly in a little fluffpile!
“Fank yu daddah!” Sally gasped, and started to weep tears of joy.
She picked up the red baby in her mouth, and stared to give it licky cleanies, and then realised something was terribly wrong. The baby was cold, and wasn’t moving, and wasn’t breathing.
It was forever sleepies.
“Nuuuu!” Sally screamed, “Babbehs!”
For the next few minutes, Sally desperately nuzzled, and licked, and cuddled and cleaned the babies, hoping beyond hope that one of them was still alive. But try as she might, not one of them started to move, breathe or chirp again. She begged her daddy for help, but he just ignored her, and put another log on the fire, while he laughed and drank more whisky.
“Huu huu huu huu huu… Babbehs am aww fowevew sweepies! Fwuffy wiww nebew gib dem huggies an wub! Wiww nebew gib dem miwkies! Huu huu huu huu huu…”
Sally wept and wept until her fluff was soaked with tears. Her daddy just looked down at her with that strange look on his face, then he started smiling a cruel grin.
“Oh well. Better luck next year,” He told her. “The vacuum monster was hungry anyway, I suppose I’d better feed them to it.”
Sally felt a cold, sharp shock inside her body.
“Nuuu! Daddah! Pwease nu feed babbehs to da vacuum munstah! Pwease!”
“I’m sorry Sally, but the vacuum monster needs to eat too. Do you want it to starve? That’s not very nice you know.”
Sally chased after her daddy when he went to get the vacuum monster, begging him hysterically not to feed the babies to it, but her daddy didn’t listen, and soon the vacuum monster started its horrific, high pitched growl.
“Nuuuu!” Sally screamed over the vacuum’s howl. “Nuuuuuuu daddah! Nuuuuuuuu!”
But her daddy simply plucked the red baby from her belly fluff, and fed it to the Vacuum Monster’s snake like mouth.
“Slurp!” said the vacuum monster greedily, as it sucked the red baby inside of it, changing the pitch of its howl.
“Nuuuuu! Babbeh!” Sally wept hysterically.
“Slurp!” declared the vacuum monster again, as it devoured the green baby.
“Babbehs!” Sally wept, “Babbehs! Huu huu huu…”
And then, a miracle happened. Maybe it was the power of huggies, or maybe it was the roar of the vacuum monster howling like a gale, but somehow, the white fluffy baby started to move, just a little.
“Cheep!” she heard it cry, over the noise of the vacuum.
“Daddah! Daddah wait!” Sally begged her daddy, who was reaching to take the last baby away from her.
“Oh come on Sally, its dead already, and the vacuum monster is hungry!” her daddy said grinning in his strange tone of voice, his breath reeking of whisky.
“Nuuuu!” Sally yelled, and grabbed the baby in her mouth, running to the other side of the room.
Her daddy chased her, holding the vacuum monster in his hands, holding its hideous snake like mouth to her fluff. Sally could feel the vacuum monster sucking her fluff inside its mouth, making its horrible wailing noise, growling and trying to num her!
“Wagooooooooooooooomm!” she thought it was saying “Wagooooooooooooooooooooooom!” it wailed, as it nummed her fluff, and socks, and ties, and wrapping paper.
Sally ran all over the room, as her daddy chased her, knocking over the Christmas tree and trampling presents.
Sally ran underneath the sofa, where her daddy couldn’t reach her. The Vacuum Monster could though, and her daddy held its mouth right next to her fluff. It sucked and sucked, ripping out her loose fluff and numming it, but as hard as it sucked, she was simply too big for its mouth. She cradled the last, snow white baby to her belly fluff, and protected it from her mean daddy and the horrible monster.
“Come on Sally, you can’t hide there forever!” her daddy told her.
“Nuuu daddah! Wait! Wisten to Fwuffy!” she yelled.
A moment later, the vacuum monster stopped howling.
Suddenly, her daddy had flipped the sofa over, and was stood there, staring down at her like a malevolent giant. He was grinning, and drinking whisky from the bottle now. Sally wondered if he had ever really loved her.
“Its too late Sally,” he laughed at her, “The foal is dead. Give it to me.” He reached down with a giant hand.
“Nuuu daddah! It nu am dead! Wastest babbeh am awive! Nu in fowevew sweepy wand yet! It am mobing! Wook!”
Her daddy looked down at the adorable little white foal moving feebly in her fluff.
“Well fuck me,” her daddy said, saying a mean sounding word. “It is alive, after four days.”
“Yes! Babbeh need huggies, an wub! an miwkies!” she gibbered.
Her daddy just grabbed it.
“It looks pretty fucked to me,” He told her, saying the nasty word again, “Its barely alive, and without milk its as good as dead.”
“Pwease daddah!” Sally begged him, “Gib wastest babbeh back to mummah! Mummah wiww gib miwkies! and wub! an huggies! Make gwow up big an stwong!”
Her daddy just responded with the most horrible, drawn out laughter that Sally had ever heard. She didn’t think anything was funny, and daddy’s laugh didn’t sound like he thought it was funny either. His laugh reminded her of a creaky door, old and unopened. It was a monster, escaping from inside him.
“But you can’t give it any milkies,” her daddy told her, “You’re not really their mummah. Your crotch-boobs won’t make any milk.”
“Yes! Dey wiww, daddah!” Sally begged, trying to explain that in her days sat next to the box, her crotch boobs and swollen, and started to lactate as she sang songs about how much she loved the babies.
“No. Its too late for this one. Better that he dies in the fireplace.” Her daddy said, his voice sounding flat and far away.
“Nuuuuu! Daddah! Pwease!” Sally practically screamed.
But her daddy just threw the baby into the open fire.
For a moment, it lay there, flames licking around its snow-white fluff, then the flames started to catch its fluff alight, and the tiny screams began.
“Eeeeekk! Screee! Screeeeee! SCREEEEEEE!”
“Daddah!” Sally wailed in despair.
“SCREEEEE! SCREEEEEE!” the baby screeched for a final time, before its last breath departed it. The baby was gone now, just a burning blob of fat and fluff. It would only ever live on in Sally’s dreams. And in her nightmares.
“Babbehs!” Sally wept. “Babbehs!”