The family immediately began screaming.
“PICK MUMMAH, DADDEH! MUMMAH BESTEST MUMMAH!”
“PINK BESTEST BABBEH! WUB DADDEH MOSTEST!”
“EH-AH-EH! EE-UHR AH!” (unknown)
“Enough.” The abuser announced. “I’ve made my decision.”
The three fluffies looked at him… or at least tried to. Mama looked up with hope in her eyes, pink looked in the wrong direction, and yellow could only just barely crane his head up enough to see part of the abuser’s leg, but his neck was too feeble to maintain the position for long and so he returned to slumping in his bed again after only a few seconds.
“I’ve decided…” The abuser continued, leaving them in suspense for as long as he could. “…to keep mama.”
Yellow let out a long, strangulated cry that seemed like an attempt at screaming.
“NU-HU-HU!” Pink screamed, thumping his tiny hooves against the floor. “NU FAIW! NU FAIW!”
Meanwhile, mama beamed with pride.
She always knew she was the best mama around, and this just confirmed it. Even if she’d killed blue, and verbally terrorised pink and yellow, they had all deserved it in the end. She, however, deserved only good things, like hugs, and toys, and spaghettis… oh, and maybe some more babies, some better ones, ones that wouldn’t be broken and ugly and smelly and-
“Unless…” The abuser said, catching them all off guard. “Mama is willing to go instead of one of her children. What do you think, mama? Do you love your babies enough to give one of them a home here, while you go out on the streets with the other baby?”
Mama glanced at yellow and pink in turn, disgust etched on her face.
“Nu.” She answered flatly. “Mummah stay hewe. Dummeh stupy babbehs gu. Babbehs gu NAO!”
Pink began crying again, and yellow let out a rattling snort before lapsing into sobs of his own.
“Are you sure, mama?” The abuser asked, ensuring she agreed to his Terms & Conditions before continuing any further. “Are you sure you want to stay here? You really want both of your children to leave, and you stay here forever instead?”
“YUS!” Mama replied immediately. “YUS YUS YUS! MUMMAH WAN STAY! MUMMAH DESEWBE HOUSEY AND NUMMIES! DUMMEH BABBEHS DESEWBE NUFFIN!”
The abuser smiled at them all.
Now his resulting actions were entirely mama’s fault.
“Okay guys, you heard her.” He said, picking up yellow in one hand and pink in the other. “Time for you guys to go, and to never come back.”
“Huhuhu… why daddeh?” Pink bawled. “Why haf gu? Pwease daddeh, wub daddeh, wan stay in housey…”
“I’m sorry buddy.” The abuser replied, carrying them both out of the spare room and towards the back door. “But your mama just doesn’t love you anymore, and honestly, I don’t think she ever has. She definitely never loved blue either. I think she hated you even before you were born.”
Every word cut into pink and yellow like knives in their hearts, and their sobbing started all over again.
The abuser opened the back door and put both fluffies down on the cold, hard concrete of the alleyway.
“Okay guys, this is goodbye.” He said, leaving them both where they were. Yellow had once again fallen on his side and was unable to get up, and pink was turning in circles, trying to figure out where the abuser’s voice was coming from.
“Whuh… whewe… wha we do nao?” Pink asked nervously.
“I don’t know. I don’t care either. You’re not my fluffies anymore, you’re nobody’s, because nobody loves you.” He said, before stepping back inside and closing the door.
He felt like he’d been a touch fast with them, but he didn’t care.
All he cared about was what he had planned for mama.
Pink eventually wandered into traffic and was killed very quickly when a bus ran him over.
Yellow was unable to move and lay in the alley until he eventually starved to death, at which point his corpse was taken by a stray dog for some sustenance.
To be honest, it’s all the abuser had expected would happen to them. He knew they wouldn’t last long on their own. He had left them out there to be merciful.
Because mama… mama was going to be given special treatment by the abuser.
It started as soon as the abuser returned to the spare room, bringing with him his toolkit of syringes, bottles and dollar-store surgical equipment.
Just like before, he told mama she needed some medicine, and just like before she ate it up without even thinking. So he carried mama through to the bathroom while she babbled away about how much she loved him and how she was the best mama ever (she actually talked more about that than anything else), until he placed her in the bath-tub.
“Okay mama, now stay still, this is going to hurt a little, but I promise you, it’ll be over soon, okay?”
“Otay daddeh, mu- OWIES!”
The needle had been quick, and the injection worked fast. The fluids poured in from the back of mama’s neck, running from the tip of her spine down through her nervous system and between her bones. Inch by inch, her nerves went numb, cold and lifeless, as her legs went weak, her head suddenly felt heavy, and her entire body tipped over to one side, overbalanced by it’s own weight.
Mama felt sensation in her body for the very last time, as the heavy dosage of concentrated anaesthetic poured into her body and obliterated her nerves once and for all.
While she was still confused and shocked, the abuser readied his second needle and injected her under the chin, just like he had done with yellow not so long ago… only this needle’s contents were different. This wasn’t some typical numbing agent, concentrated or otherwise… it was actually a very mild, very diluted solution of acid.
The acid worked quickly, the singular droplet doing it’s job of destroying mama’s vocal chords completely. No longer could she scream or cry or babble, she could only, at best, produce quiet gurgling groans. It was even worse than yellow, whose voice had at least being somewhat intelligible. Mama’s voice was as destroyed as her ability to move, and she hadn’t even properly noticed yet.
The abuser withdrew the needle, and smiled. The hard part was over. Now he got to have his fun.
“Hey mama, remember when you first came here, and I gave you all some medicine?” He asked.
Mama let out a gurgling, slurring croak that sounded vaguely like ‘yes’.
“Well, I think it’s only fair that I let you in on a little secret. See, that wasn’t medicine. I gave you, pink and yellow some soda and told you it was medicine, but it wasn’t. Then when I took blue away…”
He paused, relishing the memories of what he did next.
“So, remember how blue was just a big baby? How he never learned to walk or talk, and how his eyes never opened?”
Again, mama let out a sound which the abuser assumed was a ‘yes’.
“Well, here’s the secret… I did that to him. I glued his eyes shut, I took away his voice and I ruined his legs so he couldn’t ever walk, talk or see. He should’ve been perfectly fine, but he wasn’t, and it was all my doing.”
Mama stared at him, her eyes wide. The abuser smiled, and continued.
“And pink? The one who suddenly can’t see or hear? Well, guess what, I’m responsible for that too. I took away his eyes and blocked his ears, now he’s blind and mostly deaf.”
Mama began shaking her head back and forth wildly, tears pouring from her eyes. She made some vague grunting mumbles, but nothing was worth listening to, so the abuser continued.
“And then I did the same to yellow! I took away his voice and his legs, just like I did to blue! I was going to do a lot more y’know, but then you broke down after only a day of having to take care of them. So that sped things up quite a bit, and now here we are.”
He kneeled down, looking at mama’s motionless form in the bath, and smiled at her.
“And now, I’m doing the same to you! That’s right, I’ve taken away your voice and your legs too, just like I did to blue and yellow! You’re going to be as useless and helpless as he was, you’ll never walk again, and you’ll never talk again! But even if you could, nobody would ever listen to you. And do you know why?”
He paused, relishing the moment that had been building for months.
“Because you are a bad mama.” He said, licking his lips at the delicious taste of the words. “You’re a bad mama who abused her own children, so much that you even murdered one of them. You’re a bad mama who couldn’t handle a little extra work, and readily gave your babies up to abandon them outside. You’re not just a bad mama, mama… you’re the worst mama that ever lived.”
Mama attempted to scream, but all that came out was a strangulated gurgling sound from her annihilated vocal chords. She tried to run, but her legs were completely numb. At best she very slightly twitched, but nothing more.
The abuser just watched, and quietly laughed.
“And here’s the best part.” He said, leaning in closer to mama to make sure she heard him. “I asked you if you wanted to let one of your children stay here, meaning you’d be put out on the street instead. You said ‘no’, because you wanted to stay here. If you’d said ‘yes’, do you know what would’ve happened? You would’ve been put on the street, still able to walk and talk, and you could’ve gone on to live a long, happy life being butt-raped by some feral Smarty somewhere. If you’d picked one of your foals to stay here, I’d be doing this to them instead. But you didn’t pick that… you decided to stay here instead. You decided you deserved this fate. And you know what? I completely agree with you on that.”
Two weeks later…
The abuser walked into the spare room. It had taken a lot of scrubbing with dangerous cleaning chemicals to get rid of all the shit-stains, but he’d expected that from day one. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to clean up after one of his little ‘adventures’, anyway. And besides, the worst time was still the infamous ‘Mentos + Coke + Smarty’ incident… but even then, it still made him laugh…
Sitting inside the spare room, there had once been a family of four fluffy ponies. Now, there was only one. Her name had been ‘mama’, but that name didn’t fit anymore, as she no longer had a single foal left alive.
So her name was changed to ‘Vomit’, fitting her puke-green coat.
Vomit had been dumped in a plastic bowl, which served as her bed and her bathroom, whether she liked it or not. Even now, as the abuser crept closer to her sleeping form, he could see that the bottom of the bowl was a soupy swamp of murky brown fluids. He ensured she didn’t drown by keeping her head out of the bowl before putting her to sleep… he had no intention of letting her die that easily.
The abuser reached into his pocket and pulled out the novelty airhorn, one of many he’d gotten in bulk online, and brought it next to Vomit’s ear. She looked like she was dreaming quite nicely.
The abuser was happy to put a stop to that.
BEE-EE-EEMP the horn shrieked, jolting Vomit awake… but her limp, motionless body was unable to do anything but lie still as the horrible siren-like blaring of the airhorn blasted into her ears.
After a few seconds it stopped, but she was definitely wide awake.
“Sup, Vomit.” The abuser asked, all resemblance to his past ‘daddeh’ self completely gone. Vomit simply looked at him with dull eyes, her instinctive blinking and shallow breathing being the only signs that she was alive at all.
“C’mon, food time.” He said. ‘Food’, for Vomit, was a specially formualted slurry of kibble which had been mashed down with water to create a dense, sludge-like mixture that tasted about as bad as it looked. With the help of a beer-bong (because the abuser wasn’t willing to spend any more on Vomit than he absolutely had to), he forced the sludge down her throat and into her stomach, giving her more than enough for the full day, just to ensure her stomach would ache for several hours.
Afterwards, Vomit’s bowl was cleaned (while she lay slumped on the cold floor, like a forgotten toy left behind by a careless owner), after which she was put back in it and left in the spare room to fill it again over the course of the day.
Sometimes the abuser would return to her and spend time with her… which meant mocking her, bullying her, calling her names and reminding her of all the things he’d done to her and her foals. Sometimes he brought his ‘phone’ and showed her pictures of other fluffies playing and being happy. Other times, he simply left her alone in the room for hours, with absolutely nothing to do but stare directly ahead at the blank wall that faced her.
Once or twice the abuser decided to have some extra fun, and brought her out to watch Fluff TV. She would sit in her bowl, watching various fluffies running around, playing with a ball, stacking blocks, making babies… but it would only make her feel worse, because everything she saw, everything she heard, was a reminder of something she could never do again.
And so, the fluffy formerly known as ‘mama’, now permanently known as ‘Vomit’, would lie in her bowl and silently cry to herself, alone with her thoughts in a body that no longer moved at all.
She didn’t even think ‘wan die’ anymore, because she had realised it was hopeless.
All she hoped for was a release from her endless misery and suffering.
A release she knew she would never receive.