The information was exchanged. Emails sent to and fro. All the necessary documents and pedigree licensees were mailed and delivered. Now Lady Bell officially belonged to Loretta.
It was time for rehabilitation.
Lessons started small.
“Repeat after me. All babies are good babies.”
“Aww babbehs am gud babbehs.”
Simple enough, but Loretta knew she didn’t mean it.
“Poopy babies are good babies. Say it.”
“Poopie babbehs am…” Lady Bell hesitates. Her scowl trembling in frustration and disgust.
“Say it.”
“Nu! Poopie babbehs am poopie! Nu gud! Dummeh mummah!”
The lessons were repeated. Over and over… and over…
It was clear drastic measures would be needed, but with Trixie currently taking up the isolation room, Loretta needed to start with a more physical approach.
“So you think only pretty babies are good?”
“Yus! Onwy pwetty babbehs am gud babbehs! Nu poopie babbehs!”
“You’re a bad mummah.”
“Nu am not! Am pwettiest mummah! Am BESTEST mummah!!”
“We’ll see about that.”
She brought out the tools she kept for the more difficult cases. A confinement board, similar to ones used by abusers that pillowed their fluffies, only this one was specifically built for restraint rather than mutilation. A shaving kit with different sized razors. And last but not least, a med kit, in case anything went wrong.
Before Lady Bell knew it, she was taken out of her kennel and strapped down. Her legs slotted into the holes of the board to prevent her from struggling. Her engorged teats uncomfortably squished against the pastel painted wood.
“What am Dummeh doin?! Wet Wady Beww gu! Nu wan! Nu wan!!”
“You are a Bad Mummah. You dont’ get what you want.” Loretta curtly responded as she picked up her scissors and started snipping away the rest of Lady Bell’s tail. Long locks of pastel hair falling onto the metal table.
“Wh-what dat?! 'Ou am gwoomies Wady Beww an gib pwetty fwuff cutties 'gain?” Lady Bell asks hopefully, straining her neck to no avail in a desperate attempt to look behind her. Loretta roughly grips her fuzzy head in her hand and continues to snip off her mane.
“I’m showing you how poopy you really are.” She answers, setting the scissors down only to plug in the razor. With a click, the sound of buzzing fills the air.
It wasn’t until Lady Bell felt the razor buzz over her rump that it truly clicked in her tiny brain what was happening. With a horrified screech, she tried to thrash and free herself.
“NUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!! NU TAKE PWETTY FWUFF!!!”
Loretta took her time, carefully shaving each leg individually, making sure to keep her grasp firm to prevent Lady Bell from kicking. She’s glad she had the forethought to resist feeding Lady Bell since Jitters had brought her here so there hadn’t been any ammunition for any ‘bad-peepees’ or ‘sorry-poopies’.
All Lady Bell could do was screech at the top of her lungs and sob uncontrollably. Reaching over to her phone, Loretta turned on some music and cranked up the volume to drown out some of the pathetic wailing with some more enjoyable tunes.
“Abra-Abracadabra
I’m 'bout to reach in my bag bruh
Abra-abracadabra
just like that and I’m back bruh”
She sings while she works, ignoring Lady Bell’s shrieks and begs to keep her fluff. Grabbing a pair of pliers, she firmly grasps one of Lady Bell’s wings and begins plucking out every single fluffy feather. The mare’s screams turn into guttural howls of agony at the pain.
“PWEASE! NU HUWT PWETTY MUMMAH!!! AM GUD MUMMAH! AM GUD MUMMAHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
“No you’re not. You’re a bad mummah.”
The agony goes on for what feels like hours (It was really only about 20 minutes of feather plucking). Lady Bell wished desperately to at least pass out from the pain, but she would have no such luck. Every pluck and tear of her feathers being ripped from her flesh left sore, bloody pores in their wake. Her voice had started to become hoarse from every blood curdling scream she emitted. Her legs were numb and rubbed raw from thrashing against their restraints. She was left a sobbing wreck, shivering from the cold of the air conditioner blowing over her fluffless skin.
“Almost done~” Loretta hummed in a sing-songy tune as she resumed shaving the rest of Lady Bell’s upper body.
“Uuuhhuuhuuhuuhuu… P-Pweeheeheeaase… Nu mowe mummah… nu m-mowe… Am sowwy… W-Wady Beww am… Am Bad mummahhuuhuuhuu…”
Lady had finally broken to some degree. Accepting that she was a bad mummah was just one step on the road to rehabilitation. Hopefully it was a sign of good things to come, but Loretta knew better than to get her hopes up.
Smiling cheekily, Loretta brings out a bottle of iodine. Couldn’t left those wings get infected. Using a cotton swab, she carefully dabbled the antiseptic agent onto the swab before coating the thin, boney remains of Lady Bell’s wings.
Then she paused, an idea coming to mind. Grabbing a clean rag, she began to coat Lady Bell’s whole, naked body in the substance.
The pegasus kept her eyes squeezed shut the whole time, sobbing pitifully even after Loretta was done and released her from the confinement board. Her heavy teats dragged on the cold floor, causing her to cringe, her legs barely able to hold her up as they tingled from the numbness. She forced herself to stand as tall as she could, if only to avoid the chill of the tile floor.
“Now you really are a poopy.” Loretta grinned, showing a mirror to the ex-pageant fluff.
Upon seeing her reflection Lady Bell hoarsely wailed, shaking her head as she sobbed and looked from the mirror down to her body and back.
“NUUU!!! NUUUUUHUUHUUHUUHUU!!! WADY BEWW NU AM POOPIE!!! WAI AM POOPIEEEHUUHUUHUUHUU!!!”
“Because you’ve always been a poopy, under all that pretty fluff, that’s all you ever were. A big, brown poopy.”
Lady Bell could only continue to sob. “Uuhuuhuuhuuhuu… Nu wan be poopie…”
It was clear without her fluff that Lady Bell was considerably malnourished from what a fluffy was supposed to weigh. Her ribs weren’t exactly poking through her skin, but she was skinnier than expected and her skin appeared to hang off her frame in an ill fitting way. It seems all the nutrients she would normally have gained went straight into the milk she produced. Made sense. That’s what usually happened with mothers.
“You’ve been through a lot. Finding out you’re really a poopy under all that fluff must be really hard.” Loretta cooed, faking a tone of sincerity as she pat the top of Lady Bell’s head. “How about we let you see your babies? You could even feed them to make your milkie places stop hurting.”
Lady Bell nodded with a sniffle. “Y-Yus, pwease… Wan babbehs huuhuu…”
Loretta nodded, standing straight to leave shivering mare and retrieve her foals. Within a few moments, she was back with a basket nest of peeping, chirpy babies. Lady Bell looked up with hopeful, watery eyes.
“H-Hewwo babbehs! Mummah miss 'ou!”
Loretta waits for Lady Bell to sit down, taking a small sense of satisfaction in her discomfort of her bare skin on the tile floor. “Here you go, Lady Bell. These two are pretty hungry.”
She offers the blue pegasus and green earthie to the mare, watching her smile as she reaches for them. The mare’s smile quickly sours into a disgusted frown when she sniffs them, smelling the scent of another mare on her precious babies. If she was thinking of something unsavory she didn’t voice her thoughts, instead choosing to lick her babies and press them to her teats to get them to latch.
“Dwink up pwetty babbehs, mummah hab wots o’ miwkies fo’ 'ou.”
At first her foals tried to latched, but the moment they tasted the bitter, metallic taste of the iodine on her skin they refused to take any part in drinking her milk. They didn’t even recognize her smell, peeping in distress at the strange figure that called herself their mummah.
“Babbehs? Wai nu dwinkies? Am mummah’s miwkies! Made fo’ babbeh’s tummehs! Dwinkies babbehs! Nu be bad!”
She cuddles the green foal, only for it to squirm in her grasp, desperately trying to flee her fluffless grasp. Lady Bell frowns, clearly becoming frustrated.
“It-It otay, babbeh. Mummah am… Mummah am p-poopie nu-fwuff fwuffy nao, but stiww am mummah…” She switches her attention back to her blue foal, trying to urge him to drink. “Pwease dwinkies babbeh, mummah hab wostest miwkie pwace huwties…”
The foal struggles the same as his sister, trying to avoid the bitter tasting medicine staining his mother’s teats and escape. Lady Bell had had enough.
“Dummeh nu-bestest babbeh! Dwink da miwkies!!”
She forcefully presses the baby pegasus’ head into her milkie place, ignoring his frantic squirms and muffled peeps as she begins smothering him in her flesh. Tears well up in her eyes as she doesn’t feel him latch or suckle. She didn’t understand why her babies hated her. Why they wouldn’t drink her milk. It was clear they were crying for her, but they wouldn’t even accept her love or hugs! These stupid, STUPID babbehs!
“'Ou am dummeh babbehs! Bad, BAD BABBEHS! AM GUD MUMMAH! 'Ou dwink Mummah’s miwkies NAO!”
Loretta quickly stepped in before too much damage could be done. Taking the foals away from Lady Bell and placing them back in the basket with their siblings, she glares at Lady Bell.
“That is NOT what good mummahs do! You do not hurt your babies!”
Lady Bell is torn between being distraught at having her babies taken away again and the heart ache of her foals rejecting her.
“Wh- B-Bu’- But babbehs-”
“Enough! I don’t wanna hear it! If you’re not gonna feed your foals, you’re going to be milked instead!” Loretta scolds, grabbing a muzzle and pinning Lady Bell down to slip it over her head. Lady Bell’s screeches were quickly muffled behind the specialized muzzle.
Picking the shaved mare up, Loretta promptly brings her to a wall where there was a device that looked like a mix between a high chair table and wooden stocks. Holding the mare in place, she closed the wooden device around Lady Bell’s middle, clasping the lock in place to allow her to dangle. Pulling out an auto-feeder kit, she made sure the suction cups and hoses were clean before hooking her up.
It wasn’t Loretta’s favorite method of feeding foals, but when push came to shove a mare had to be milked. This method kept her from having any purchase to kick the suction cups off and added to her humiliation of being put on display in such a state.
Lady Bell sobbed through her muzzle, more tears spilling down her flabby cheeks as she dangled helplessly. Pressing the power button upon the automatic milk pump, the machine instantly went to work, suctioning the mare’s teats with little regard to her comfort. She squirmed for a short while longer before giving up, resigning to sobbing and watching as her precious milk was stolen from her by the heinous pumping machine and collected into the auto-feeder.
Her sweet, colourful babbehs chirped and peeped, Loretta setting them around the synthetic teats that were now filling with sweet, delicious milkies. She cried and watched as her babbehs fed from the auto-feeder, away from her reach. She couldn’t hug them. She couldn’t sing to them. She couldn’t tell them she loved them. Her heart ached with such an unbearable pain.
“You hang there and watch your foals eat.” Loretta ordered, setting the timer on the feeder for when the pump should stop milking. “I’ll be back in five minutes to check on your foals.”
Giving one more look to the foals to make sure all of them were eating, Loretta left the sobbing mare to step out of the room. She poked her head into her main safe room, checking on her primary breeders and giving them each a pat on the head before turning on some fluffTV for them to watch. Then she headed to her master bedroom, making her way to her walk-in closet that she had repurposed into what she called her ‘solitary confinement room’.
It was like a small safe room, but only with the bare essentials. No toys, no TV, only a towel for a blanket nest, a litter box, a water dish, and a food dish that was only filled by Loretta at set times throughout the day. The true specialty of this room, however, were the speakers that constantly played recordings of important rules and lessons on an endlessly repeated loop.
“All babbehs are Good babbehs.”
“Good poopies go in the litter box.”
“Good mummahs never hurt babbehs.”
“Good mummahs are happy when babbehs find a new family.”
“Good mummahs never hurt Mummah 'Retta or her friends.”
Trixie was curled up on the towel, mumbling in her sleep, repeating the recordings that were constantly repeated 24/7 every day she was locked in here. Loretta sighed, carefully stroking her fingers through Trixie’s mane. It was a mess of pink waves and curls, some of the pink locks were torn out from distressed gnawing, but it wasn’t anything that wouldn’t grow back.
“Aww babbehs… Gud babbehs… Good mummahs… Nevew gib huwties… Mumma ‘Wetta… O’ hew fwens…”
It was clear she was exhausted, having worn herself out after such a stressful night of missing the alicorn foal she had so quickly grown attached to. Speaking of the alicorn, what the fuck happened to it?! Loretta had quickly deduced that Jitters had kept it after being chased out last night, but a sense of overwhelming dread washed over her at the thought of Jitters having to babysit anything other than a houseplant.
Taking out her phone, she leaves the ‘solitary confinement room’ and calls his number.
“C’mon, Jitters, pick up…”
“H-Hello?”
“Jitters! Please tell me you have the alicorn and that it’s alive.” Loretta says, her wariness clear in her tone of voice.
“O-Oh! Yeah, still alive! Uhm, I… kinda have a problem though?” She can practically hear him wincing as he speaks. Maybe he can already sense her rising ire.
“What. Happened.”
“W-Well, I tried to follow the things you told me last night, but I kinda slept through my alarm to feed it, and then when I did feed it, it… uh… Threw up… Everywhere… Like, it went full exorcist projectile pea souped the foal formula… It’s in my socks…”
The more Jitters spoke, the more miserable and weary he sounded. It was infuriating. Loretta pinched the bridge of her nose, took a deep breath, and counted to ten.
“Goddammit, Jitters…”
Loretta and Trixie belong to @UndercoverPallasCat