You are Delilah, formerly D-112, and you consider yourself a very lucky fluffy.
A very long time ago you lived in an awful place where all you knew was bad special huggies, birthing foals, and having them taken from you. You lived in a tiny wire cage, where your hooves ached endlessly from the wire cutting into them and your poopies fell into a stinking trough below you. All you ever heard was crying; the cries of newborn foals, of fillies getting their first bad special huggies, of mummahs-no-more wailing for their foals. You joined the din often.
One day you were taken from your cage and given the worst hurties. The mean humans strapped you down and cut into you without mercy or remorse.
Just before you passed out from the pain and shock they held something out to you, a blood soaked organ.
“No more babies for you!” A cruel voice cackled as everything went dark.
But that was then. This is now.
You spent a few forevers in a place called a shelter, where unwanted fluffies went. You lived in a kennel only a little bigger than your previous cage, but the floor was solid and they gave you blankets and a litterbox, so you were very grateful. You really did think it was as good as it could get before your Daddeh adopted you.
He gave you wonderful things. A whole house to play in, with an entire room to yourself. You had toys and snacks and even TV to watch. Your Daddeh was wonderful, he was always happy to color or chat with you, he gave you the best pets and often let you sleep in his bed with him. You had nearly everything a fluffy could want.
But somehow you were still missing something.
Your bed always felt cold and empty, no matter how many stuffy toys you tucked into it. Games with Daddeh were fun, but he never seemed to know how to play right. The TV was great and fun but you would see other fluffies playing with their babies and feel this deep ache.
You missed your foals.
The TV said begging for babies was bad, so you never said anything about it. The meanies said you would never have babies again anyway, so what was the point of asking? You would just watch the mares play with their babies sadly and when no one was around you would cry for your lastest foal. He was born alone, no siblings, and oh so very small. Smaller than anything you’d birthed before. He was a beautiful pale blue, a few shades lighter than you, and you loved him oh so much. It broke your heart when they took him from you. They usually took the foals after their eyes opened but he was taken from you far too early. He peeped feebly as they carted him away, and you wailed with the rest of the mummahs-no-more that night.
But that was then. This is now. You need to remember that. You aren’t in that horrible place anymore.
Daddeh woke you up early in the morning, he said it was a very special day.
“It’s Christmas! When all the good fluffies get gifts from Santa!” He said, ushering you out of your safe room.
You weren’t sure if you were good enough to get gifts. You hoped so.
The pretty tree he had set up in the living room had a small pile of toys under it now. You must have been good! You scampered over to them, picking up a soft plush bunny and cuddling it to your chest.
“Tank’oo Santa!!” You cheered.
“I think there’s a box you should open as well.” Daddeh said, pointing to a pretty green box near the base of the tree.
You pulled it out, hearing something moving around inside. You lifted the lid, revealing the sleeping form of a pale blue colt. Your breath caught in your throat at the color, so familiar. Something you hadn’t seen anywhere but your dreams since that horrible day. That little foal was gone, though. Gone forever, you didn’t know where all your little babies went. Somewhere good you hoped, somewhere with someone as nice as your Daddeh. You just wished you could see them again.
The colt stirred, and an oh so familiar scent filled your nostrils. He blinked at you sleepily, giving you a small friendly smile.
“Hewwo! Nyu fwend?” The colt asked, sitting up in the box.
“I know you’ve been lonely, and you’ve been so good not begging to have babies. I know it hurts.” Daddeh knelt down next to you, resting a hand on your shoulder. “He’s a little old for a mummah, but he looked just like you so I had to.”
You held out your hooves to the colt, and he jumped up for a hug. As his face pressed into your neck fluff you felt him stiffen.
“…Mummah?” He asked, looking at you with wide eyes.
Your voice caught in your throat, and you could only nod at him.
“Mummah!!” He cried, burying his face into your fluff.
“Wait… what?” Daddeh asked.
“Am… am wastest babbeh.” You choked out. Holding the colt tightly.
“Like… your actual baby?”
You nodded, tears dripping from your cheeks onto your son’s head. Your lastest foal, returned to you safe and sound. At last.
