Everyone remembers their first Fluffy, for hugboxers and abusers alike, everyone remembers that first loving gaze into their owners eyes, followed swiftly by either cuddles and love, or ear-piercing screams.
Victoria Harkness hadn’t thought about her first Fluffy for quite some time now, until a regular walk home from work took her past an alleyway where, by chance, she spotted a Fluffy in an alleyway. It was alone and cold, shivering against the autumn winds, normally not something Victoria would pay any mind to, but the feral’s colours caught her eye, an orange body with a purple mane. Exactly the same as her first Fluffy.
Exactly the same as Apricot.
It was four years earlier when Victoria got Apricot, and surprisingly enough, she wasn’t initially for abuse, rather she was a gift. Victoria’s brother Vincent had opened his new Fluffy store in town and had gifted Victoria with the first foal born under his management. Naming her Apricot because of her bright orange Fluff, the little filly was an earthie with spouts of purple forming what would become her mane, good colours but nothing too fancy that Vincent would miss her breeding potential.
At this point in her life, Victoria hadn’t yet embraced her abuser status, she had considered it, she’d watched abuse videos online with morbid fascination and had discussed the topic with Vincent’s friend Josef, but had never partaken herself just yet. Which is why when she was gifted Apricot, Victoria’s first thought wasn’t of pain and misery, but of genuinely caring for the little filly.
For a while, things were good, Victoria felt an immense sense of pride when Apricot first opened her eyes and called her mummah. The two of them would spend all their time together, Victoria would read Apricot so many wonderful stories, they would play ball together all day, even the gentle hugs given to her by the adorable filly were enough for Victoria to turn away from the abuse videos. She honestly and truly loved Apricot, so much so that Victoria made one crucial mistake.
She forgot that Apricot was a Fluffy, and Fluffies are inherently broken creatures.
Everything changed at the six month mark, Victoria and Apricot were watching the news when out of nowhere, the station did a literal Fluff piece on Marigold, the oldest Fluffy in the country to have had a successfully pregnancy.
The second Apricot saw the tiny bundles of colour suckling from their mother’s teats, it was over. Her eyes went wide and her gasp grew deep, even Victoria changing the channel did nothing to stop the earthie mare from turning to her mummah and asking that dreaded question.
“Mummah? Can Apwicot hab babbehs?”
Victoria took a deep sigh, Vincent has prepped her for this conversation but that didn’t make it any easier.
“No Apricot, you can’t.”
“Bu… bu babbehs am bestesh fing eba, Apwicot wan be mummah.”
“No you don’t, you just want something cute. Besides, we don’t have the room or the money to be able to feed a whole litter.”
A small lie, while the house wasn’t the biggest it could fit a small family and Victoria had enough funds to feed them, but she knew better than to give into a Fluffy’s demands when they hadn’t earned anything.
To her surprise, Apricot giggled. “Siwwy mummah, babbehs am onwy wittew babbehs, dey nu take woom. An nu need nummies, dey hab Apwicot miwkies.”
“No Apricot, and that’s final. If you ask me again, then no stories before bedtime.”
Apricot went to argue but thought better of it, she curled up on the sofa, softly crying to herself about ‘Wan babbehs’. For Apricot, it was the worst day of her life.
For Victoria, it was the first splinter in her relationship with the mare.
The second splinter came three days later, when Apricot got pregnant.
Victoria was doing some tax work on her computer when she heard giggling coming from the open window leading to the garden, that in itself wouldn’t have been concerning, Apricot was constantly finding something new or interesting to laugh about in the safety of her front garden.
No, what concerned Victoria this time, was that there was TWO sets of giggling.
Rushing outside, Victoria found Apricot nuzzling with another Fluffy from between the gaps in the fence, a green unicorn stallion with a silver mane. She knew EXACTLY what had happened but Apricot still bounded over and told her anyway.
“Mummah, mummah. Apwicot am soon-mummah nyo.”
And that was it, any love Victoria had for Apricot was gone now, she was willing to wait, she was willing to let Apricot prove she could be good and then reward her with foals. But this… betrayal, this utter disregard for her rules, this ignorance the boundaries between pet and owner, Victoria could not forgive this.
And in that moment, she knew how to teach Apricot a lesson.
“So I see. Did you not listen to mummy when she said we had no room for babies, or enough money for food?”
Apricot cowered a little. “Bu mummah, babbehs am onwy wittew, an Apwicot pwomise wook afta aww babbehs.”
Victoria put on a good show of pretending to relent. “Ok then, but they are YOUR responsibility, I won’t do anything to get in YOUR way. Do you understand?”
Apricot, being too giddy to really understand, nodded happily. “Yeh, Apwicot pwomise be bestesh mummah.”
“Well alright then, come back inside.”
“YAY, fank yu mummah. Come on speciaw-fwiend.”
The green stallion chuckled and went towards the gate to get inside, only to find it still closed.
“Uh, nice wady, can Ebagween gu wiv speciaw-fwiend?”
“No.”
Both Evergreen and Apricot’s hearts dropped. “Wha? Bu dat am speciaw-fwiend, hab Ebagween’s babbehs, babbehs need daddeh.”
“This is my house and these are my rules, Apricot is my Fluffy, you are not. You’re not coming inside.”
Apricot came waddling to her sperm-doner’s aid. “Bu mummah…”
Victoria shot daggers at the orange mare so hard Apricot almost felt them stab into her heart. “You can either come inside with me, or stay outside with him.”
Apricot started crying and turned back to go inside. “Am sowwy speciaw-fwiend, babbehs need wawm homesie.”
“Speciaw-fwiend, nu.”
Both Fluffies wept as they were torn apart by the cruel apathy of property borders. Apricot kept crying even as the front door shut but after a couple hours, the reminder of her pregnancy cheered her right up and she spent the rest of the day singing her off-key mummah song.
She would go to sleep that night, almost completely forgetting about Evergreen.
Poor Evergreen himself stayed by the fence all day, occasionally nibbling on the grass poking out of the wooden boards and trying to peek through the window at his mate. Nothing came about it, even as the dark-time came, he stayed there, wishing for things to change. Then, just as he was about to lose all hope, the front door opened.
And moments later, Evergreen would be in a trash bin, all of his legs broken, and his severed genitals stuck in his mouth. Through his muffled wails you could just about make out the ‘wan die’ cry, as Victoria’s admission for what she was going to do to his foals haunted his imagination.
For the next few weeks, Victoria maintained a friendly disposition, she knew it would be sometime before the real lessons could begin. Until then, she kept Apricot in blissful ignorance, feeding her, bathing her, reading her stories, to the mare, it was like nothing had ever changed, except of course that she was now carrying the best, most prettiest babies ever inside her.
Things didn’t start to turn odd until about two weeks into her pregnancy, when Apricot noticed that, even after feeding, she was still hungry.
“Mummah, can Apwicot hab mowe nummies, tummeh-babbehs hab hungwies.”
Victoria smirked, she had been waiting for this moment for weeks. Putting on her best ‘fuck-you’ smile she knelt down to look Apricot in the eye.
“Oh honey. Do you not remember when mummy said she wasn’t going to help look after the babies? That means it’s YOUR responsibility to find them food.”
“Bu…bu… bu mummah gib Apwicot nummies.”
“Because YOU are my Fluffy and as YOUR mummy, I will look after YOU. And as the mummy to YOUR babies, it’s on YOU to look after them.”
“Bu, how wiww Apwicot git nummies, nu knyo how wivout mummah.”
Victoria gave Apricot a reassuring, albeit totally condescending, pat on the head.
“I’m sure you’ll find a way.”
And with that, she left the frantic mare to waddle around the kitchen, hoping to find any scrap of food to sate the hunger of her unborn young.
Now knowing the horrifying reality of her situation, Apricot’s relaxing pregnancy was now fret with worry and anxiety. One bowl of kibble was never enough to feed her AND her tummeh-babbehs, and while she could find small bits of food under chairs and dropped on the floor by Victoria, that still wasn’t enough to fill her up.
Things got even worse once she got too big to move, now she couldn’t find any extra food and had to rely on just to kibble. No matter how much she pleaded to her mummah, Victoria wouldn’t budge.
“Mummah pwease. Tummeh-babbehs hab wowstesh hungwies, pwease wet Apwicot hab mowe nummies.”
“Oh Apricot, hush. You said you could look after these babies, you weren’t lying to mummy were you?”
“Nu, bu…”
“Then stop crying or mummy won’t give you ANY nummies.”
That shut her up, although it didn’t stop Apricot from wiggling her limbs helplessly as Victoria left the room, trying in vain to move her fat little ball-body anywhere.
Victoria knew she was being overdramatic, with what she had been feeding her Apricot and her foals would be just fine. The overcautious nature of first-time motherhood.
No, this was just a taster, she wanted Apricot to understand the severity of her situation, to let it eat away at her so that when the time came, she understood that everything was HER fault. Victoria would be rid of those foals and she wouldn’t even have to lift a finger.
In fact she meant not to.
So this was designed as a one chapter tale but I got kicked in the ass with Covid again so I’ve split this in half here with plans to continue the other half later once the painkillers kick in.
Ah the joys of modern living.
