Pit of Despair [By MuffinMantis]

Lilac was scared. It wasn’t a immediate fear, not yet, more a slowly growing dread of a future she knew she couldn’t avoid. It was her fault, she knew, but that didn’t help; it just heaped guilt on top of the anxiety. Mummah was going to find out.

Lilac didn’t want to be a bad fluffy, of course. It’s just…some things are more important than being good. Mummah didn’t seem to understand that, always going on about rules and how bad it was to break them. Why couldn’t she listen? Why couldn’t she let Lilac explain?

But it was too late for that now. Lilac was a soon-mummah now, and sooner or later mummah was going to find out. Lately Lilac had started having nightmares about how mummah might react. Would she get the sorry-stick? The sorry-box? Would she not have sketti-days anymore?

Or would mummah think of something even worse? In the worst of the nightmares, Lilac’s life became something unimaginably horrible, with the sorry-stick and the sorry-box and no sketties! Those nights she always woke up crying, thankful for a change that she didn’t sleep in mummah’s room anymore.

She’d just have to tough it out, thought, whatever punishment mummah came up with. Lilac knew that once mummah saw the babbehs, saw how precious they were, she’d forget all about the rules. Then Lilac would get sketties every day for being such a good mummah!

Still, something she remembered, something the feral stallion that’d given her the tummeh-babbehs had said, made her even more afraid. It was nonsense, of course, but it still made her scared. “Cowd-times am soon. Nu am gud time fow babbehs. Babbehs gu fowebah-sweepies in cowd-times.”

She’d assured him that the babbehs would be safe, warm, and well-fed in her nice housie. He’d seemed relieved at that, and had given her the tummeh-babbehs she wanted. They’d be the bestest babbehs ever, and would be so happy in the nice housie with toysies and sketties!

Yes, everything was going to be fine. Just remember that. It was going to be fine.



Lilac’s tummeh growled again. She was so, so hungry! Mummah had been giving her less food lately, in spite of her protests, saying she was getting fat! Part of Lilac was happy about that, happy that mummah hadn’t found out about the tummeh-babbehs yet. But she was so hungry!

Well, if she asked nicely maybe mummah would give her more nummies. Sometimes that worked, if mummah was distracted or in a good mood. Other times it got her a scolding about being healthy and not eating too much, which gave her heart-saddies. It was a gamble she was willing to make, though.

“Mummah!” she called, drawing mummah’s attention away from the TV. “Wiwac hab wowstest tummeh-owwies! Nee’ mowe nummies!”

“No. Look at you! I’ve been feeding you too much, and it’s not good for you. Until you lose that weight you’re staying on a low-calorie diet.”

“Bu’ Wiwac’s tummeh hab huwties! Nu wan owwies! Wan mowe nummies!” Lilac whined. “Tummeh owwies am wowse den be oberwait!”

Mummah turned off the TV, seeming to give Lilac her full attention for the first time in a while. She’d been distracted with “work,” whatever that was, for a long time. Now, though, Lilac wilted under her gaze.

“Fuck,” she muttered. “You got yourself pregnant, didn’t you?”

“Fwuffy nu am soon-mummah…” Lilac said, looking away.

“Dammit! I told you I can’t afford more fluffies right now!” mummah sighed. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you keep the foals.”

Lilac squealed in horror. “Nu take babbehs!”

“So you are pregnant!”

Lilac quivered, finally mustering the willpower to look at mummah again. “Wiwac am sowwy! Nee’ babbehs! Wan be mummah! Pwease, nu take babbehs!”

Lilac, there isn’t another option. Hell, even if I wanted to I can’t afford that right now. The babbehs will have to go as soon as they’re weaned.”

“Pwease! Nu take babbehs! Wai mummah nu wub Wiwac? Wai wan gib heawt-owwies?”

“GET OUT!” mummah suddenly roared, pointing to the door. Lilac sunk to the floor, trembling, but didn’t move. “GET OUT RIGHT NOW!” Lilac suddenly realized. No! It couldn’t be! Mummah wouldn’t be this mean!

“Bu’…mummah Wiwac…”

That earned her a painful slap, far harder than the sorry-stick she was useful. Bursting into tears, she ran out of the room, through the hall. Finally she ran out the fluffy-flap, out into the back yard. Scrambling through the hole the feral stallion had dug, she left the only home she’d ever known.

Wiwac am sowwy! Nu mean tu be bad fwuffy! Pwease, mummah, wub Wiwac 'gain!



Life as a feral was somehow worse than Lilac had imagined, even after watching the scary warnings on FluffTV about how bad fluffies lost their housies and had to live out in the scary outside. Little did she know that even that depiction of feral life was heavily sanitized to avoid frightening children or fluffies too much.

Hunger, she’d been expecting, but not like this. Not where every moment was a struggle to even think with the gnawing agony in her tummy. In the days since mummah had kicked her out, she’d only managed to find a semi-rotten pear. It was foul, but by that point the hunger had been so bad that it was like ambrosia to her.

Worse than the hunger, though, was the pain of her injuries. One of her eyes was swollen shut, weeping stinking tears, where a birdy-munstah had scratched at her as she tried to steal its bread. The pain grew worse every day, and she somehow felt both hot and cold. She felt on some instinctive level that it was bad, very bad, but there was nothing she could do.

She flopped down on her side in the pathetic excuse for a nest she’d managed to accumulated, a decrepit cardboard box with some scraps of newspaper. It’d only rained once, a feeble dribble, but even that had made the box sag alarmingly and drip cold water into her neck as she cried and tried to fall asleep.

“Speciaw-fwiend?” a voice asked, and she opened her good eye to see the feral stallion looking at her in shock and horror. [color=purple]“Speciaw-fwiend!”[color] she cried out joyfully. She wasn’t alone anymore! She’d be able to rest for the tummeh-babbehs now!

“Pwease, speciaw-fwiend,” she continued. “Wiwac nee’ nummies fow tummeh-babbehs! Pwease fin’ nummies an’ gud nesties fow Wiwac an’ babbehs!”

The stallion sniffled, slumping dejectedly. “Fwuffy am sowwy. Nu can fin’ nuff nummies fow fwuffy, nu hab nummies tu gib tu soon-mummah.” That hurt. She’d been demoted from special-friend that easily? Wasn’t she a pretty, good mare? “Fwuffy onwy gib tummeh-babbehs ‘cuz soon-mummah sae hab gud housies an’ nummies. Babbehs nu wiww wibe wong in cowd-times. Soon-mummah nu wibe wong wif seein’-pwace huwties. Fwuffy sowwy.”

With that he turned, leaving her as she struggled to stand. It finally dawned on her how badly she’d messed everything up. Her babbehs were going to go forever-sleepies. She was going to go forever sleepies! Suddenly she was more terrified that she’d ever been, even after the worst sleepy-time pictures.

“Wiwac…am gon’ die?”



She delivered her pitiful undersized litter a few days later, somehow managing to gather them up and clean them, give them what tiny milk she had, while swimming in delirium as the infection in her eye grew worse. How she’d gotten food to survive as long as she had she didn’t know. Had a nice human given her food, or was that just another of the strange images floating through her mind?

Every so often she’d snap back to reality for a short, blissful time, and hug her slowly-dying foals. Painful as reality was, it was nothing compared to the jeering, spiteful images that paraded across her mind when she lost her grasp. But it was getting harder and harder to hold on, and she saw shadows creeping into her vision even with her eyes open now.



She was dead now, in all but name. Too weak to even move to hug or feed her babbehs, too weak to do anything but wheeze in a pathetic heap. Hunger and delirium where all she knew, now. The only thing she felt anymore besides the pain and the fear was the regret, regret over the mistake she’d made.

This was all her fault.



“Wake up! Hey, wake up!”

Her good eye snapped open, and she regretted waking up. Lately she could feel something crawling around the seeping wound where her other eye had been, and her pleading with the wormy-friends to stop numming her eye hadn’t done anything to help. Why had the meanie lady woke her up? Why couldn’t she just leave her to die in peace?

“Fine, we’ll do this the hard way.”

Lilac felt something sting her, then a wave of horrible sick energy surged through her, jolting her into full awareness. She looked around wildly, her head movement scattering maggots. Her gaze finally focused on a human lady, presumably the one who’d woken her up.

“Adrenaline. It’ll probably kill you as soon as it wears off, but that’s fine. You were dying anyway.”

Lilac just stared dumbly.

“So, do you want to live?”

“Wiwac wan die. Wiwac am bad fwuffy, am bad mummah. Wet babbehs gu fowebah-sweepies, gib mummah heawt-huwties. Am onwy gud fow tummeh-owwies an’ fowebah-sweepies.”

“What do you mean? Your foals are alive.”

Lilac looked down at her foals for the first time in so long. They were alive? THEY WERE ALIVE! How? Had she somehow continued to feed them in spite of her delirium and weakness? Had some nice fluffy been feeding them? It didn’t matter, nothing mattered but the sight of her foals, alive and well.

One of them stared up at her, tears in its little eyes. Their eyes were open already? How long had she been delirious?

“Mummah am sowwy! Nu mean tu wet babbehs hab heawt-owwies!” But already she could feel the energy subsiding. She couldn’t die and leave them all alone! “Pwease, nice wady! Wabe Wiwac an’ babbehs!”

“Hmm…I don’t think I will.”

Lilac mustered what little energy she could. She had to be endearing! This was their last chance to survive. “Wiwac wiww be bestest fwuffy ebah! Babbehs wiww be bestest babbesh! Wiwac wiww be gud mummah wif gud babbehs!”

“But you aren’t a good mummah, are you? A good mummah wouldn’t be kicked out of her house or run away. That mean’s your a very bad mummah. And a bad mummah can only have bad babbehs.”

Lilac’s energy faded. She couldn’t plead anymore, couldn’t fight anymore. She felt…content. She’d been given one last moment of happiness before she died. That was more than she deserved.

“But…”

Hope flared once more in her chest. Maybe! Maybe there was a way out! Maybe she and her babbehs could live!

“I can save you, but you’ll have to be punished. Sorry-stick every day, the scariest sorry-box, and only nasty nummies.”

Lilac nodded frantically. Anything! She’d accept anything right now! Anything to save her babbehs!

“Good. First, let’s get you to a vet and see to that eye. After that…we can work out how to make you a good fluffy again.”



The eyepatch chafed, but Lilac wouldn’t dare complain. She was alive! No, more than alive! The sickness, the weakness, the delirium was gone! She could move, just barely, and it felt more wonderful than anything!

On the downside, she was sitting in front of a bowl of kibble. She wasn’t going to complain about kibble, of course, after eating rotting trash or nothing at all for so long, but…it was the worst kibble she’d ever had. It had a choking bitter flavor, made worse by the way it ground into dust that dried her mouth when she tried to chew it. She could only force it down by alternating bites of kibble and mouthfuls of water.

She understood that she was bad, understood that this was part of the punishment, so she accepted it. Her new mummah hadn’t given her the sorry-stick or sorry-box yet, saying she was too weak for that. So for now her only punishment was the yicky sorry-kibble. But, compared to her live in the filthy alleyway, eating bitter kibble was a staggering improvement, so she didn’t really see it as a punishment.

Her babbehs thrived, though. Whatever was in the kibble seemed to make good milkies, so her babbehs weren’t the little wasted things she’d been so used to. Every time she saw them growing bigger and stronger she was so thankful for whatever miracle had saved them.

They might not have had the best colors, or the prettiest tails, or even a pointy like her, but she didn’t care. They were each more precious than anything she could imagine. If only her old mummah had been able to see them! She wouldn’t have made Lilac leave then. But it wasn’t good to think about that now.

One day her new mummah came into the saferoom, drawing a chorus of happy chirps from the babbehs and a hug from Lilac. She loved her new mummah so much, even if she sometimes said mean things and gave her nasty kibble. She’d do anything for her savior.

“Well, Lilac, looks like you’re doing much better. How are you feeling?”

“Wiwac am feew gud, mummah! Nu hab sickies nu mowe!”

“That’s good, that’s good. Now, Lilac, remember what I said when I rescued you? That you and your babbehs need to be punished so you can be good fluffies again?”

Lilac nodded, feeling a little nervous, but trusting her new mummah. She’d saved her, after all, so she wouldn’t do anything bad now.

“Good. Now, it’s time for the sorry-stick, then the sorry-box.”

“Otay.”

Lilac closed her eyes and waited for the stinging whipping of the sorry-stick. After all the pain she’d been through in the alleyway, it didn’t really hold any terror for her anymore. It was just a little painful, a little scary.

So she was completely blindsided when the sorry-stick slammed into her side, cracking ribs and sending her sprawling, gasping soundlessly. The next swing hit the other side, rolling her along the floor in a cycle of agony as fractured ribs protested each time her weight was on them. The third hit left one of her legs hanging limply from its socket. She didn’t feel any further hits, though, as her still-weakened body and mind couldn’t stand the pain, and she blacked out.



She woke up in a puddle of her own vomit and tears. Opening her good eye she saw mummah standing there with a length of board, tapping her foot impatiently. “Wake up! You aren’t done yet!”

Lilac tried to protest, but could only gurgle. She cleared her throat, spitting pink phlegm onto the floor, heedless of the additional punishment that’d no-doubt earn her. This…this was just too much! Why hadn’t she just died in the alleyway?

“That was five, you have fifteen more for today. Then each foal gets twenty as well.”

Lilac finally managed to find her voice at that. “Nu! Babbehs gu fowebah-sweepies! Nu am big fwuffies! Nu am stwong 'nuff!”

Lilac, you agreed to the punishment. Now, stand up so we can finish.”

“Pwease, mummah! Onwy gib owwies tu Wiwac! Nu huwt babbehs!”

“Hmm…nah. If they aren’t strong enough, that means you were such a bad mummah you didn’t even have good, strong babbehs.”

“Pwease! Nu kiww babbehs! Nu gib huwties! Pwease, if mummah wan kiww fwuffy, kiww Wiwac! Pwease, Wiwac onwy hab babbehs weft!”

Mummah absentmindedly slapped the board into her hand a few times, seeming to think about Lilac’s words. Then she shrugged.

“I’ll make you a deal. I take one of your babbehs to have the worst punishment ever, and if you make the rest into good babbehs quickly I won’t hurt you or the other babbehs. Deal?”

Lilac was torn. What should she do? If she said no her babbehs would die. If she said yes…well, there were so many horrors she could dream up now after her hellish experience as a feral. Was it worth it to condemn one foal to save the others?

“O…otay, mummah,” she finally said, sobbing quietly.

“Good. Now, which foal should I pick…”

Lilac silently wished deeply in her heart that it wouldn’t be the dancie-babbeh, the strongest of her foals. While she wouldn’t call him her favorite, per-se, she knew he was the only one likely to survive if she ever had to leave the housie. Best to keep him safe.

“How about the dancie-babbeh?”

Lilac choked back a scream. No! Why? When had her nice mummah turned into such a munstah? Why was she so cruel?

“It’s okay, Lilac. I won’t kill him or let him die. After all, killing babbehs is the worst thing anyone can do. And if you and the other babbehs are very good, he can come back and see you soon.”

Lilac just kept crying.



You’re Nameless, although you don’t know that yet. You don’t even understand words, except for mummah-songs that make you feel safe and happy. So you didn’t know how to react when the munstah lady gave your mummah the biggest owwies and took you away.

You peeped and struggled, of course, but that didn’t make a difference. The munstah’s grip was vice-like, her muscles hard and unyielding compared to those of your mummah and siblings. No matter how much you struggle you can’t budge her grip even a fraction of an inch. Even your scardy-poopies, which should drive away munstahs, don’t seem to have any effect.

You’re set down on a slippery metal surface, slightly inclined so you slide along it. You peep and cheep in panic as the door above you closes, plunging you into darkness as you slide along the metal. Finally you manage to catch yourself on a narrow metal ledge, the hard surface biting into your tender hoofsies painfully. Below you you hear water.

You cling to the ledge, muscles trembling from exertion, peeping in fear. You keep chirping, pleading for mummah to save you, until you hear something. A deep growl, and something scratching at the metal below you and to your left. Instantly you freeze, not daring to make a sound. The growling and scratching stops, but you’re still too scared to do anything.

Eventually, your muscles can’t support you, and you can’t bear the pain in your hoofsies anymore, so you let yourself slide over the ledge, expecting to fall into a munstah’s claws. Instead you only slide a short way before your haunches land in cold flowing water, dragging you a short way to your left before you stop, pressed against a hole beneath you just barely too small to let you fall in.

You panic again, instinctively guessing that the munstah is in the hole. You drag yourself away, expecting any instant to feel sharp claws grabbing you. But nothing happens, and you manage to lay there, pressed against cold, smooth metal, your hind legs shivering from the cold water.

You feel sick, both from fear and from exhaustion. You want to call for mummah, to plead with her to come save you, but your fear of the munstah is too strong, and you don’t dare make a noise. You begin to drift off, and hear yourself peep softly. Instantly you’re wide away as you hear something in the pit growling and clawing. No! You can’t make sounds! If you make noise the munstah will find you!

Finally, though, you grow too tired to care, and drift off to sleep.



You wake up to a smell, something other than the smell of your waste and terror. Milkies! Not just the thin, flavorless stuff your mummah made for you, either! It smelled rich, sweet! You open your eyes, trembling in fear anew as the utter darkness assaults your vision. Need to find the milkies! Need to quell the hunger in your tummeh before it growls and the munstah finds you!

It takes far too long, but eventually you manage to scrabble your way up the slick sloped metal. There, by the ledge you’d stood on before, you feel something soft. You latch onto the bottle, drawing a deep mouthful of the wonderful-smelling milkies.

You almost spit it out before your instincts warn you that you might not have enough to waste. It’s so bitter! How could it smell so good yet taste so yicky? You don’t know, and at this point you’re too hungry to be picky, so you drain the bottle. It isn’t enough, not nearly enough, but you’re grateful for it. It reminds you of the strange not-milkies you were given in the alleyway when you were small by the nice lady that came when your mummah was asleep.

After you finish you nuzzle up against the nipple of the bottle. It feels so nice to touch something besides cold, hard metal. It can’t have been that long, but already you feel like you’ve been in this dark place for many forevers! So you stand there, hoofsies aching from the narrow ledge, and nuzzle against the bottle that’s the only thing to remind you of the outside world.



You settle into a routine, eventually. You drink milkies whenever you can, then nuzzle the bottle as long as you can stay on the ledge, before letting yourself slide back into the water. It’s miserable, more than miserable, but…it’s getting harder to think of what you’re comparing it to. Is it really so bad here? Maybe this is how life is supposed to be, and the outside world is just a dream.

One day, however, you wake up to realize the bottle is gone! Instead there’s a tray, a hard metal tray full of disgusting slop. You eat the slop, of course, but even when you try nuzzling the tray it just isn’t the same. You miss the softness of the bottle. It was soft, wasn’t it? But…what is softness? Is it a real thing? Or just another dream you had?



You’ve given up standing on the ledge now. It’s only gotten harder and more painful as you’ve grown, so you just lay here in the cold water, shivering but grateful that at least your hoofsies don’t hurt, dragging yourself to the tray to eat every so often when the hunger threatens to make your tummy growl and alert the munstah.

You’ve stopped having the dreams now. Did you ever really believe there was an outside world? Did you really believe in stupid things like softness and warmth?

You’re about to drift off again when you hear a grating noise from above you, and something grabs you. You aren’t sure what it is, so you just lay still as it carries you somewhere, setting you down again. Then pain, so much pain. The vicious beating continues in the darkness until you can barely feel it. Then you’re returned to your nice housie, and finally get some sleep.



You can’t remember anything. Is there anything to remember? Everything’s always been the same, dark and hard and cold. Always staying quiet to hide from the munstah. Always shivering from the cold. But is it cold? What is there to compare it to? Maybe that’s just how you’re supposed to feel. It’s not like you’ve ever felt anything different.

The hand picks you up again, and you hear yourself coo softly. You know what it means, know about the beating you’re going to receive, but…it’s not quite as hard as the metal of your nice housie, not quite as cold. It’s something different, something to break up the monotony of your life. You’re grateful for that, grateful for the beatings. Grateful for the short time away from the munstah when you can peep and cheep all you want.



You’re dragging yourself to the tray to eat again, when suddenly everything goes white. Blinding, brilliant light sears into your eyes. It hurts so much! It hurts so good! A new sensation, a new type of suffering! Something to break up the monotony!

The hand carries you through brightly lit halls, although you can’t make out any details with your darkness-warped eyes. It feels warmer than usual, softer than usual, and that makes you so happy. You peep and cheep and cheep and peep, blissfully making noises. You know it’ll be over soon, know the beating is all-too-brief, but you enjoy it while you can.

But…something is different this time. Something new? Maybe you’ll be hurt more this time, maybe you’ll get to feel more sensation than before! Maybe, and find yourself hoping so much your heart hurts, maybe you’ll die.

You don’t know how to react when you’re set down on something soft and warm. You don’t know what to do when you hear sounds, feel warm softness surrounding you, holding you tight. You know you should be quiet, but you can’t help but coo. You grasp onto the warmth tightly, hungrily. Something new, but…it doesn’t hurt?

You see purple. At least, you think it’s purple. After so long in darkness colors are like a distant dream, and you aren’t sure you have the right one. Still, there was something…something about purple. Memories of something better than warmth, better than softness. Memories so long buried that they might’ve all been a dream.

You feel a sudden urge. There was something you did, back when you had warmth and softness. Something that…made purple happy? You don’t quite understand, but you really want to make purple happy. Want to make these precious few moments before you go back to your housie mean the most.

So you do it.



Lilac cuffed one of her now-talkie-babbehs across the head, drawing complaints. “Nu gu faw fwom wittewbox! Nu wan Chewwy make bad poopies! Babbehs nee’ be gud babbehs!”

“Wai mummah awways wike dis?” Cherry asked petulantly. “Nu wiww make bad poopies! Nu wike wibe neaw wittewbox! Nu smeww pwetty!”

“Nu! Nee’ be gud babbehs su dancie-babbeh come back! Nu make bad poopies!”

Cherry sighed, settling down in the little area of the wide saferoom that mummah found acceptable. Why did she care so much? It’s not like they were little babbehs anymore! They wouldn’t make a mess! She just needed to relax!

Lilac!” human-mummah called from the doorway. “You’ve all been very good fluffies, so I’ve brought the dancie-babbeh back. If you keep being good he can stay here with you from now on.”

Lilac squealed in delight, rushing towards the skinny orange colt that human-mummah set on the saferoom floor. In an instant she’d embraced him, hugging him tight and feeling him return the embrace. In that moment, she was more happy than she’d ever been.

Then it happened. The orange colt began to make erratic jerking movements, muttering something that Lilac couldn’t understand. After a moment he seemed to gain confidence, raising his voice and crooning in an awful sing-song voice. “Dunsee bebbuh dunsee! Gid dunsee bebbuh!”

Lilac recoiled, looking her long-lost babbeh in the eyes for the first time. Then she saw it. There was nothing behind the eyes. Nothing left of her precious dancie-babbeh.

“Mum…mah? Wut happen? Wai am dancie-babbeh…?”

“I’m afraid you weren’t good enough, so he was in the scary sorry-box for too long. I’m sorry, but he’s just going to be like this now. Be nice to him, he’s like this because you weren’t good enough.

Lilac looked at the hollow husk that had once been her precious babbeh and felt tears come to her eyes. Fighting the revulsion, she embraced him, trying to make up for all the suffering and pain. Trying to make up for failing him, making him like this.

Waiting for mummah to leave.



You’re so happy! You feel so warm, everything is so soft! You lay there for so long, you can’t begin to tell how long, until your stomach growls. Instantly all the joy is replaced with horror. You need to eat! You need to eat now! Before the munstah finds you!

You run over towards the smell of food, wolfing down the delicious chow, not even noticing the flavor. You don’t notice anything besides the need to eat, to quiet your tummy before the munstah finds you. You don’t notice the presence behind you until a heavy hoof presses you face into the chow.

So, the new suffering was finally here. Oh well, at least this time it looked like you’d get to die.



Lilac walked the streets, shivering in the cold, listening to the whining of her babbehs. They didn’t understand why they’d been forced to leave, why they couldn’t stay in the nice housie anymore. Lilac didn’t try to explain.

What could she say? That she’d ruined their brother so much that the only mercy she could give him was death? That she’d willingly thrown away their status as good fluffies to help their brother they barely remembered, knew only as a freak? No, better to not explain at all.

They were going to die, and she accepted that. She’d been lucky enough to get a second chance, but she knew there wouldn’t be a third opportunity. Not for a awful fluffy like her. Not for a murderer.

She smelled something familiar, something half-forgotten, and followed the scent almost unconsciously. Then she saw a familiar house, with the smell of the strange big-leafed plants coming from the garden. She knew this place.

She turned to leave, knowing she wouldn’t be welcome here ever again. Tears blurred her vision, regrets burning in her heart. How had she done everything so wrong? How had she let it come to this? Why couldn’t she just be a good fluffy?

She heard footsteps behind her, rapidly approaching. She flinched, beginning to turn when she was suddenly swept off her hoofs into am embrace that almost choked the air out of her. She looked up, and saw her old mummah. The mummah who hadn’t wanted a bad fluffy like her.

Lilac! You’re okay! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I was so worried!”

Lilac didn’t know what to do. Had mummah forgiven her? Even after she’d been such a bad fluffy? Even though mummah had kicked her out, not wanted to see her ever again.

“Why did you run away? I know you wanted to have your babbehs, but…running away in the winter? What were you thinking?”

“Bu’…mummah teww Wiwac tu gu…”

“I meant go to the saferoom, you idiot!” mummah sobbed. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen!”

Lilac wanted to be happy, but a crushing realization hit her. If mummah hadn’t wanted her to leave…then everything that had happened was entirely her fault. Her foals had nearly starved, her dancie-babbeh had suffered and died, because she was so stupid!

Wordlessly she began bawling, unable to explain anything, not to mummah and not to her babbehs. She kept sobbing as mummah bathed her, brought her and her babbehs to the safe room, gave them food. It was over. It was all over.

54 Likes

Kinda deserved what happened to the foal for not realizing what the owner meant by that

3 Likes

I like the twist at the end, you really see a lot of those in fluffiy stories

2 Likes

She went through literal hell. Now it’s time to rest and be safe.

2 Likes

Hoo. Interpretation is a hell of a thing.

1 Like

Dog every ounce of sympathy left when she left.
dumbass Lilac.

1 Like

Fucking hell that’s dark. Good work!

2 Likes

Absolutely stellar, felt for the mare but at the same time wanted her to suffer. Excellent characters as always

1 Like

Mmmm, that’s some delicious salty tears.

My compliments to the chef.

1 Like

Im curious did the new owner saw her when Lilac left the house? As she knew what happen to her. :thinking:

Man her owner sure know how to tell her pet where to go :man_facepalming:

Still what happen falls on Lilac her own thinking think she was right and rules are not, what happen to her dancing babbeh falls on her.

1 Like

I am enjoying, but I feel like this should be tagged with sadbox, because I still haven’t seen anyone explain what “bleakbox” is or how it’s different. And sadbox tag fans should definitely find and read this one too!

Someone once told me bleakbox was like sadbox but “more extreme” without any possible happiness at the end, but that’s also obviously different from this story, too. I feel like there’s probably something my dumb ass isn’t getting.

1 Like

I loved this, especially the bit where we dive into the mind of a psychologically tortured foal. Seeing how someone deprived of everything can view even negative things as good because it’s better than nothing.

Very good, sad story with an ending that manages to not undo the tragedy and horror, but still leaves some hope for a better future.

2 Likes

Agree, fluffy POV most interesting POV.

1 Like

HAHA BEAUTIFUL, how beautiful. I loved this.

I might be overthinking it, but I had a weird idea that the nice owner and the abusive owner were the same person playing mind games on Lilac to punish her for getting pregnant and running away.

1 Like