Half a year had passed since he had taken in the feral mother and her babies. In that time, the abuser had repeated the injections of sedative into the blue foal’s legs multiple times, whenever he had a chance and was alone with the blue foal (which was surprisingly often, with how much the others trusted him).
Then, every morning he found the foal struggling to move, attempting to drag it’s limbs around but finding they simply wouldn’t obey. Of course, this wouldn’t be surprising for a baby, it’s limbs hadn’t quite developed yet, obviously it wouldn’t be able to walk around on it’s own. But it had been six months, and the baby had grown… although the muscles in it’s legs had not.
The abuser had decided to stop with the injections, as they didn’t seem warranted anymore. The ‘foal’ was now a full sized adult, but was still incapable of walking. Not only that but, as he had planned, it was unable to open it’s eyes, and all it could ‘say’ was a bunch of slurred incoherent mumbling.
In other words: it was just a ‘big baby’.
“Hey mama! Hey babies!” The abuser said, walking into the spare room that morning. He saw mama was sitting with her yellow and pink babies, they had been playing a game of ‘ball’ together.
“Hewwo daddeh!” The mama said to him brightly.
“Hewwo!” The two talking babies replied.
“How are you feeling today?”
“Vewy happeh, daddeh!” Mama said.
They went through the same routine every day. This was where it got fun.
“And how are your babies?” The abuser asked. Mama went quiet.
“Babbehs… otay…”
“Is something wrong?” The abuser asked, feigning concern. “Is something wrong with one of your babies?” He asked, driving the point in as much as he did every day.
“Nu! Nu! Babbehs awe good babbehs!” Mama insisted, panic and fear in her eyes as she briefly considered the very slight possibility that she was a bad mother who had made a bad baby.
“Hm. I can see pink and yellow, but where’s blue?” The abuser asked, although he was impossible to miss.
‘Blue’ was now an adult, almost the same size as his mother if not bigger. He was slumped in the bed, now taking up so much of it that he was forcing his mother out whenever they went to sleep. Yellow and pink had been provided with their own beds, but both the abuser and mama were in agreement: babies should sleep with mama, and blue was obviously still a baby.
“Babbeh sweepin’.” Mama said, at which point ‘baby’ began to chirp and babble, roused to waking by all the noise around it.
“Ah-ah!” Baby wailed. “Ung’ee! Ah-ah!” (Mama! Hungry! Mama!)
“Babbeh nee’ miwkies!” Mama said, awkwardly positioning herself to allow her baby to suckle at her teats. It had been getting harder and harder as he had gotten bigger and harder to move. As a foal, mama could just lift him up and place him against her teat until he was done, but now… now mama had to do most of the work, positioning herself directly in front of baby’s mouth, then pushing his sightless head around until he found her nipple.
Even then, mama’s nipples hadn’t been producing as much milk as before. The abuser had been forced to start slipping some milk-producing hormone supplements into her food at mealtimes just to ensure her baby didn’t starve.
But then again, the abuser thought, the lack of movement on baby’s part was making him fatter by the day. He would drink his body-weight in milk, then simply lie around, incapable of moving his legs to get any exercise at all. And then it would repeat, with the baby getting fatter and fatter every day.
The abuser had to stifle a laugh. It was so pathetic it was hilarious.
“Ah-ah!” Baby suddenly chirped in fear, his entire body twitching as he struggled to move. “Oo-ees! OO-EES AH-AH!” (Mama! Poopies! Poopies mama!)
“Eep! Babbeh nee’ make poopies!” Mama said. She did as she always did, attempting to grab her baby by the scruff of it’s neck… but that had gotten harder now that she could barely reach it, and even when she eventually did, baby was far too huge and heavy to move very far on her own.
But nevertheless, mama still pulled and tugged at her baby, manging to roll him out of the bed and onto the carpeted floor. However this routine also repeated every day, and every day it got worse. Even pink and yellow had started to join in, doing everything they could to pull their fat blue brother over to the litter-box, all while blue shrieked and cried at the constant yanking, pulling, tugging sensations all over his body, his limp (but still feeling) legs being twisted, trodden on and squashed underneath his bulk as they tried to drag him to the litter-box as fast as possible.
But baby was simply too heavy. Mama couldn’t possibly drag him over to the litter-box fast enough, even with pink and yellow’s help. Sure, as a foal it’d been easy, but as he’d gotten bigger, he’d become harder to move, and by month 5, the ‘accidents’ had started.
Baby had almost made it to the litter-box that time, he’d been maybe a few inches away, but his guts couldn’t take it anymore, and spurted out a torrent of runny milk-based shit onto the carpet. And every day since then, baby had gotten bigger and fatter, meaning he’d had been making it less and less of the way before his bowels opened and his guts emptied.
(Of course, it didn’t help that the abuser had deliberately placed the litter-box on the opposite end of the room from the bedding, but either way…)
Sure enough, mama wasn’t even a third of the way to the litter-box this time before baby let out a strangulated wail and his bowels were emptied all over the carpet.
“Nu-hu-hu!” Mama wailed as she watched her baby make bad-poopies again.
“Nu poopies!” Yellow cried.
“Dummeh bwuddah, huhuhu…” Pink mewled.
“Oh dear…” The abuser said. “That sure is one bad baby…”
“Nu! Nu bad babbeh!” Mama insisted, looking panicked. “Nu bad! Babbeh just babbeh! Too widdwe to weach wittah-bawks! Just a… a… a ack-see-dent!”
“Well, you know what you have to do, mama.” The abuser said. Mama sighed quietly, and nodded.
Since her baby had begun leaving huge brown stains on the floor of their room, the abuser had informed mama that she was going to have to punish her baby so it would learn not to do it again. So mama had begun giving her baby sorry-hoofsies, promising daddy that baby would learn, baby would be good, baby must be good.
But every single day, baby wasn’t good. Baby made a big, smelly mess and mama had to punish him for it. So once again, mama waddled up to her baby and, reluctantly, began prodding him with her hooves, in a feeble attempt at giving him sorry-hoofsies.
“Babbeh… babbeh make a messy… babbeh make bad poopies…” She whimpered miserably, beating her own child with her pillowy hooves. “Dummeh babbeh make poopies… nu be dummeh… pwease nu mowe bad poopies… huhuhu…”
Meanwhile, her baby just continued to chirp and mumble nonsense, it’s severed tongue unable to produce any proper words, tears seeping out of it’s sightless, forcibly-closed eyes.
“Ah-eh oh’ee! OH’EE UH-AH!!!” (Baby sorry! Sorry mummah!)
Finally mama stopped, panting for breath, tears running down her own face. She couldn’t count them, but she could see the volume of deep brown stains all across the carpet. Daddy had told her he wasn’t going to clean up baby’s messes to remind them both not to do it again… but baby kept doing it, and the floor was getting stinkier and stinkier…
“Why doesn’t he just walk on his own?” The abuser asked, fighting to keep a smile from his face.
“Onwy widdwe babbeh, daddeh.” Mama replied, as if it was obvious. “Babbeh too widdwe to wawkies.”
“Are you sure?” The abuser asked, tilting his head to one side. “Baby looks big enough. He’s just about as big as you! Surely by now he must be walking! Look at pink and yellow, they can walk around all by themselves! What is WRONG with blue?” He asked.
Mama looked at her fat ‘baby’ again. It’s true, she would have expected him to start walking long before he was this size… but he hadn’t, which (via the logic of a fluffy pony’s brain) meant baby was still too little for that. Obviously. Why else wouldn’t he be walking?!
“Nu, babbeh stiww too… too widdwe…” Mama said quietly, somehow feeling deep in her heart that this wasn’t true, but not being able to understand why she felt it.
“How about his eyes? Has baby opened them yet?”
Hearing this, baby’s eyes actually fluttered a little. The abuser could see the fluffy’s eyelids pulsating and twitching as it tried it’s hardest to open them, but couldn’t. After a few seconds of trying, it lapsed back to mumbling noises.
“Nu… nu yet…” Mama replied quietly.
“Boy, this baby sure is taking a long time to grow…” The abuser said.
Mama had thought it too, but it didn’t make any sense. Her new daddy had given her and all of her babies the same medicine, and they had all turned out fine… except for the blue one.
“Well, I’ve got some bad news I’m afraid.” The abuser said, grabbing the attention of the fluffy family. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but baby keeps making messes. I was going to give you all some spaghetti-”
“SKETTIES?!”
“EEE! SKETTIES!”
“MUMMAH WUB SKETTIES!”
“EH-EES?!” (Sketties?!)
“-but…” The abuser continued. “You’re not going to get any. Not now. Not after baby made another mess.”
The faces of the family immediately fell. Yellow and pink had been hugging each other, but suddenly stopped. Mama looked like she was about to cry.
“Daddeh mean… nu get sketties… cos of babbeh…?”
“That’s right. It’s all your blue baby’s fault. If it hadn’t made a mess, then you’d all be eating spaghetti right now. But what can you do…” He said, turning and leaving, closing the door behind himself.
He peered through the keyhole, and watched what happened next.
Mama looked miserable, and trotted over to her shared bed where she flumped down among the blankets.
Yellow and pink however made a beeline for their blue brother.
“Dummeh bwuddah!” Yellow snapped, bucking his brother in the stomach. “Yoo make daddeh sad! Yoo make mummah sad! Yoo bad babbeh!”
“Stupy poopy bwuddah!” Pink hissed, jabbing his horn into his brother’s head and face. “Dummeh stupy poopies! Make messies! Nu sketties fow us!”
“Babbehs, nu fighty…” Mama mewled from her bed, heartbreak in her voice, but she didn’t say anything further, nor did she even move from her bed. Pink and yellow ignored her and continued to pummel their brother, mercilessly bullying him for costing them their beloved ‘sketties’.
“Why bwuddah nu wawk?!” Yellow squeaked in rage. “Why bwuddah su dummeh?! Bwuddah hab weggies! WEGGIES!”
Yellow bit one of blue’s no-longer-numbed legs, and blue let out a croak of pain.
“Bwuddah nu WAN wawk!” Pink snorted. “Bwuddah wike bein’ fatty! Bwuddah jus wazy!”
The abuser watched it all, and smiled.
It had been the same every week. Every week, he’d promise to give them sketties if they all behaved, including the blue one, but inevitably blue would ‘misbehave’ and make a mess somewhere. Either mama couldn’t pull him to the litter-box in time, or his cries would simply go unheard and he’d make a mess where he was (once even in mama’s bed, even getting some on mama while she had still been asleep next to him).
And every time, the abuser had to inform his fluffy family of the sad news that, as a result, nobody would be getting any sketties. All because of the fat blue 'baby’s misbehaviour.
They’d get sad, until he left, at which point the violence began. Yellow and pink would mercilessly bully their brother, kicking and biting and stomping at him, eternally furious at how their brother had apparently let them down.
All while blue could only lie there, blind, voiceless, effectively limbless, unable to do anything but chirp and squeak and squawk and wail while his siblings assualted and abused him. Baby or otherwise, they weren’t going to let him away with ruining their day like that.
“Babbehs, pwease stawp.” Mama finally said, dragging herself out of bed. “Mummah wan sweepies… pwease stop huwty bwuddah.”
“Buh buwddah DUMMEH!” Yellow snorted, puffing out his cheeks. “Bwuddah stoopid and dummeh and meanie and dummeh!”
“Stoopid poopie bwuddah.” Pink huffed, giving blue one last kick to the testicles before waddling away to play a game. Yellow soon followed, growing bored of kicking and stomping on his blue brother.
With yellow and pink busy elsewhere, mama lay down next to blue where he had been left on the floor, next to the latest large brown stain he was responsible for making.
“Why babbeh nu wawkies…?” Mama asked, sobbing quietly. Blue could only babble in response.
“Ah-ah! Oh-ee! Owh-ees!” (Mama! Sorry! Owies!)
“Why babbeh nu tawk wight?!” Mama snapped, tears in her eyes. “Why babbeh stiww dummeh chiwpy?! Why babbeh so… so DUMMEH?!”
Then, something that had never happened before, mama hoofed baby in the head, driving her hoof down onto her baby’s nose. A droplet of blood spurted out, and baby began crying again, but this time mama ignored him. She simply dragged herself back to their shared bed and went to sleep, quietly sobbing with every exhale.
