Bubbles loved babies, absolutely and beyond measure. there was however one thing that Bubbles admitted that she did hate and fear about them though, she could not stand and was utterly terrified of the idea of them leaving her all alone in the world, once they were grown ups.
Her owner, a kindly, 25 year old hugboxer and head catcher of the popular charity funded Ethical Answers Pest Control (or EAPC), had let her get pregnant three times now via a quality stud of her choosing each time. But everytime and without fail, as soon as the beautiful and hopeful litters were on the cusp of weaning off of her milk, Bubbles would make sure that they never grew up.
Litter one had a “bad wawa acsident” in the water dish, litter two “nu couwd bweathies” under the blanket that smothered them and litter three went off to “splore da gawden” only to be violently sodomized to death by a passing feral herd.
Marcus had enough, but he wasn’t a cruel man, he loved Bubbles, his little sky blue ball of joy. She was the perfect fluffy until her first litter, until something triggered inside of her. He understood that her mental illness was crippling and that she simply couldn’t help it. He had tried to explain how every foal NEEDS to grow, up but Bubbles just wouldn’t have it, it simply didn’t compute. The notion of being abandoned by something you loved and created was truly a hellish concept in her fuzzy little brain.
“nu daddeh, bubbwes need bebbehs foweba, babbehs spose tu wub mummah an dwink miwkies. Bad bebbehs twy to weave dewe mummah, dat nuuuuu gud!” she’d huffed as a matter of fact, nodding confidently and tapping her hoof upon the carpet to punctuate her seriousness.
When Marcus finally had it he took her to a fluffy specialist veterinarian who spayed her. Unfortunately, what with Bubbles being a fluffy, she was immune to all forms of painkillers and sedatives so she was fully aware of her daddy’s betrayal as she witnessed her baby making factory be cut open and torn out of her screaming and flailing body.
Marcus hated himself for having to do this, truly he did, but she was a threat to her own young and clearly not in the right state of mind to raise a stuffed toy, let alone a healthy and safe brood of children.
The veterinarian suggested that he get her an SBS fluffy as a companion, but Marcus wouldn’t even entertain the notion, he couldn’t stand the idea of exploiting an innocent creature with special needs, even more so he shuddered at the thought of another “accident” should Bubbles grow bored of her hypothetical charge.
Bubbles was silent as the grave on the ride home. She wouldn’t even whimper at the unimaginable pain she must have been in, the emotional trauma visibly far outweighed any suffering a dance under the doctor’s scalpel had brought her.
“wy… Daddeh…?” she asked suddenly, with snot travelling down to her chin and water saturated deep into the fluff of her cheeks, heartbroken. And as the car pulled into the drive way, the question cut into Marcus as deep as the scalpel had sliced his precious fluffy, his most special little gal.
“You… Were killing your foals… Did you think I could stand by and just watch you murder the babies you were supposed to protect… I’m sorry girl, but you’re a bad mother…” he replied with a croak, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, fighting back tears of his own.
“bad mother…”
“bad mother…”
“bad mother…”
That phrase kept dancing around in Bubble’s head for the next week, getting louder and louder.
She needed comfort now more than ever and she didn’t want it from Marcus, she wanted it from babies, babies that would never come, babies that she will never have. And although she was too scared to say it to his face, she hated him deeply and viscerally for stealing her most precious place, the place that made the most joy in her life.
One night while Marcus was asleep, Bubbles left him sorry poopies all over the walls and floor of her safe room, the fluffy equivalent of an angry goodbye letter, before crawling through the fluffy flap on the front door and scampering off into the night.
Bubbles was determined, obsessively driven to have more babies. If she couldn’t make them, she would find them.
Two days had passed and Bubbles had adapted quite well to the feral lifestyle. When hungry she would scavenge bins and when thirsty she would drink from the drains. Food wasn’t important to her but she needed fuel, fuel to find a babies, the only thought that truly occupied her mind at all times.
During her late evening nummie hunt she heard a noise, THE noise she was looking for. “cooooo mummah wub bebbehs, bebbehs wub mummah… 
” a sickly, thin, dirty looking and legless mare sang tiredly to her squirming bundles of love as Bubbles turned into the alleyway and scanned her targets.
“EEEEK! NU HEWT CARAMEW! SPESHEW FWEND, COM SABE CARAMEW!” the crippled, beige mare cried out from her nest as she wrapped her tail around her emaciated litter and curled up tightly around them.
“is otay, am fwend, am Bubbwes… jus wan tu see pwetty bebbehs… Bubbwes nu can hab bebbehs nu mowe…” she said with genuine tears as she inched closer, her smile still wide.
“dat am suuu saddies… Du Bubbwes wan meet Caramew’s bebbehs?” the exhausted mother asked in a sincere attempt to soothe the distress of her new companion.
Immediately bubbles burst into a fit of happy giggles, clapping hoofs and pleasured coos as she nuzzled up next to Caramel and her technicolored brood.
“suuuu… Wewe am speshew fwend?” Bubbles probed with narrowed eyes towards her resting host.
“speshew fwend gu wook fow nummies wong timsie, nu back yet… Himb com backsie, Cawamew am shuwe ob it…” she said sadly in her half conscious state.
And that was all the information Bubbles needed before the little cogs finally had turned to completion and a terrible smile crept up across her face. Then swiftly and without a word she got up, positioned her body and then threw her entire weight onto Caramel’s head. The muffled screaming went on longer than she had expected but Caramel stood not a chance with no legs and a frail body, dying of starvation.
When Bubbles finally crawled herself off of her victim she did not even bother to look at what she had done, her attention was exclusively locked onto her new, perfect, beautiful chirpie babies.
She dragged Caramel’s body out of the nest and tucked her next to the trash can a few feet away. Since Bubbles could no longer make milk she had decided that the milk left inside Caramel would feed her precious new litter.
And as the days went by, their eyes opened and they recognized the big blue mare as their mother, while under the coaching of the sky hued usurper, they would refer only to the stinking, putrid remains of their true mother as “da miwkie munstah”.
Then when they started taking their first true steps as walking babies, Bubbles began to feel a deep sense of worry as their ever growing independence became an ever looming threat.
Panic set in one morning when one of her little babies cried out with joy, “splowin, am splowin bebbeh teeheehee”. Bubbles panicked as her adopted child attempted to leave her, tried walking out of the nest and the alleyway as a whole.
When Bubble’s vision came back to her she was standing over a deep red puddle of crimson, littered with multi-coloured chunks of meat and fluff. Her anger exploded and the end result was a brutal culling of her treacherous youth. She was heartbroken, how dare they abandone her, did they not know that she needed them and their love forever?
Nevertheless she moved on in search of a new brood. Bubbles would repeat this process several times and every time it would end in heartbreak and an emotional, bloody, panic fueled blackout.
“su manie… Bad bebbehs…” see huffed over the gelatinous and tenderized remains of her recent victims. Although she would not give up, she knew that somewhere out there in the world was a baby that would never grow up, that would always love and need her and unfortunately she found it.
-five days later-
At a nearby fluffmart, in a tipped over bio waste bin was a tiny cardboard box titled “rejects”. Inside was a collection of mostly dead, deformed and broken foals of bad colour and terrible breeding.
Hunger had set in terribly for Bubbles. Her desire to prowl for babies was somewhat diminished by the crippling sensation of an empty stomach. And so the thin blue mare dug through the bio waste bin and bit down on one of the horribly mutated and festering offspring from an incestuous encounter two fluffies had in the playpen twenty days prior.
As she attempted to scoff down her slimy and shit covered meal, fighting against the sickly sweetness of the soft meat and contrast of the wretched and bitter earthiness of the putrification, she spotted in the corner of the box a small red ball of fuzz, still weakly moving, also seeking food.
“hewwo bebbeh…” she said softly to the microfluffy, with chunks of viscera and fatty rich meat hanging from her lip and teeth.
The little red ball of exhausted rage puffed up his chubby little cheeks at her and flailed his hoofs in an attempt to make himself look much larger. “GU WAY, DIS AM WUNT’S BOXIE!” he declared before going to bite her, barely tickling her nose with his toothless maw.
Immediately bubbles eyes lit up as she lifted up the sickly micro and squeezed him tight, holding him to her chest.
“it am otay widdle bebbeh… mummah gon wuv yew fow eba an eba!” The deluded mare assured the scarlet coated dwarf before picking him up by the scruff with her filthy and gore stained teeth and walking into the sunset.
Bubbles may not have realised it at first but she had just found her forever baby, and as far as she was concerned she was in heaven, Runt on the other hand… had just passed into the gates of hell.
-The End?-
