Something wasn’t right, but John couldn’t put his finger on it. Rosemary’s behavior had changed in little ways, yet she was still loving and happy and excitable. She was being a good mother to her babies; all of them were growing quickly and seemed happy.
Rosie was friendly and loving, and was always curious about anything and everything. Dahlia was shy and quiet; she giggled a lot and liked to hide behind things, but she was quick to voice her love for her mother and for John. Sparky was incredibly energetic, always running around and initiating games of “huggie tag” with his siblings. He was always happy, always eager to be around everyone. He was curious about Sasha. Not scared, but curious. He’d asked about the “kitteh munstah,” but Sasha still didn’t want to go into the room. John wasn’t going to force her, but he had a feeling that Sparky and Sasha would probably get along pretty well.
Fred was a little different. He was friendly enough and seemed loving, but he spent a lot of time quietly watching his siblings from the comfort of his mother’s fluff. He spent a lot more time with her than any of the other babies did. John wondered if it was a comfort thing, if he was just a little more reserved and socially awkward than his siblings were. John did see him playing with his siblings from time to time, or stacking blocks by himself. But more often than not he’d be nestled in her fluff, or sitting between her forelegs whenever John walked into the safe room. Usually Rosemary would be talking to him. But she wasn’t neglecting any of her other babies; if any of them ran up to her they would immediately get love and hugs and attention, even if she’d been paying attention to Fred. He never said anything, but John could see an annoyed expression on the colt’s little face. Still, he was sweet and loving to his siblings, so maybe it was a phase that would pass.
The thing that really weighed on John’s mind were the small changes in Rosemary’s behavior. It didn’t happen every time, but sometimes when he walked into the safe room Rosemary would look up at him and look almost…guilty. She’d quickly recover and be all smiles and giggles and love, but in those brief moments he couldn’t help but wonder if she was trying to hide something from him. He knew it could be his imagination, but still. It had never happened before, and it seemed wrong.
One night, when Rebekah came over for dinner and a movie, he asked her advice. She listened, nodded along, and immediately had an idea.
“Sounds like he’s her bestest baby,” she said. “That’s how she’s treating him.”
“What? I don’t know HOW many times I’ve told her that there aren’t ‘bestest babies,’ and she swore she understood while she was pregnant.”
“Yeah, well, fluffies don’t always do what you tell them to. Broken promises are kind of a big thing with 'em.”
“But she’s always been such a good fluffy, why would she…”
“Hey, you know I love you, right?”
“I know,” he said. “And I love you, too.”
“Good, because what I’m about to say might piss you off. Rosemary…she hasn’t always been a good fluffy. Sometimes she is, yeah. But all the time? No.”
John opened his mouth to argue, then paused, remembering. “The shit that happened in the backyard,” he said quietly.
“Yep. She broke your rule then because she thought she knew better than you. Why wouldn’t she break another rule for the same reason? Babies make fluffies extra stupid.”
“But you said that letting her have babies was the best option.”
Rebekah sighed. “I know, yeah. It was the best option. She was depressed and obsessed with babies, and I’ve seen the downward spiral that causes. It would have just gotten worse and worse. Worst case scenario she would have become defiant, broken all kinds of rules, and become a nightmare fluffy. Only option at that point would have been to put her to sleep. With the babies, she at least had a chance to improve, to lose herself in being a mother. It gave her a chance to enforce rules and teach her babies how to be a good fluffy while being one herself.”
“Goddamn,” John said. “So I was pretty much screwed either way.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Rebekah reached over the table and put her hand over his. “Look, you’ve been a good dad to her. You’ve tried. Most owners would have pillowed her or tossed her in an alley after she pulled that stunt in the backyard. You didn’t. But if she’s pulling that ‘bestest baby’ shit now? You’ve got to catch her, punish her, and correct it before it becomes a huge issue. Punish the foal, too. Put that Sorry Stick Jr. to good use.”
The realization hit him suddenly. “Oh, god. If he thinks he’s the ‘bestest baby’ and she’s encouraging him, I’m…I’m going to have a fucking smarty on my hands.”
Rebekah nodded. “And a mother who will do anything to cover for him. You’ll lose both of them. Once the smarty shit sets in, you can’t cure it. All you can do is try for a reset, but most of the time that kills them.”
“I need to get a real sorry box, don’t I?”
“Just in case, yeah. A little one for the foal, too. Just in case. You need to be ready to use that sorry stick on both of them, too. Will you do that?”
“Yeah. If I have to, yeah.”
“You can do it.” She stood up and picked up the plates. "You cooked, I’ve got the dishes. Go find us something to watch, okay? But before the movie, let’s head over to FluffMart and get those supplies. She grinned. “I think I can forgive you for not buying from the shelter just this once.”
He laughed. “Just as long as I don’t lose ‘bestest customer’ status with you.”
“No chance of that happening.” She walked over, gave him a quick kiss, then pointed toward the living room. “Movie. Find now. Then car.”
===
John spent way more money than he’d planned to at FluffMart, but he came back home with a solid plan. If it came time for punishment then he was completely ready. He’d bought one full-sized sorry box, one which was waterproof and could be set in a tub semi-filled with water. The box would restrict Rosemary’s movement so that she couldn’t drown, and the water would add to her suffering. He had two smaller sorry boxes; one that would accommodate the foals now, and a slightly larger one that could be adjusted as they grew out of the smallest one. He’d also bought a wireless camera that would stream to his laptop. He could keep an eye on what was happening in the safe room without any of the fluffies knowing.
He set the camera up the next morning while he was feeding Rosemary and checking on the foals. It attached to Rosemary’s water bottle, and gave a good view of most of the room. It was close enough to her bed that the mic would very clearly pick up anything the fluffies said within a few feet of their nest area, even if they were talking very quietly. Rosemary didn’t question what the camera even was; she didn’t seem very interested, being too busy wrangling her babbling babies and making sure they got plenty of milk.
He spent a little bit of time playing with the foals. It was Saturday morning, and he didn’t have to be anywhere in particular. John especially liked playing with Sparky, who was always ready and eager for games. This morning he rolled a ball for the little colt, a ball that was only a little smaller than the colt himself. Sparky would chase it while yelling “Spawky gon catch baww, Spawky fastes fwuffy, gon catch baww!” over and over again. He always did catch it, and always wound up tumbling head over hooves as the ball rolled out of his grasp. Sparky would laugh and kick the ball back over to John, and the game would start again. Dahlia and Rosie were usually stacking blocks, but they would join in whenever John was rolling the ball. Eventually all three of the foals were laughing and tumbling and shouting.
“Dawia wuv pway wif daddeh,” Dahlia exclaimed, bounding over and assuming an “upsies” pose. John lifted her up and hugged her to his chest, and she cooed contentedly. Rosie and Sparky decided on an impromptu game of huggie tag and began chasing each other around the room, babbling happily all the way. John held Dahlia to his chest and gently stroked her soft fluff, smiling at how adorable she was. He looked over at Rosemary, who had been mostly quiet, and at Fred, who hadn’t expressed any interest in playing games.
Rosemary wasn’t paying attention to John or to the other foals. She was focused entirely on Fred who was, as usual, situated between her front legs. He was pushed up against her chest, half in and out of her fluff. As John watched, Rosemary leaned down and spoke very softly to the little yellow foal. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, and the foal’s face was impassive.
“Hey, Rosemary,” John called out.
“Y…yus, daddeh?” she asked, snapping to attention. For that brief moment she looked guilty again, but it passed in an instant.
“Did you want to play with us? Fred, do you want to play?”
“Nu, daddeh, fank yu,” Rosemary said. “Wosemawy nu sweep gud, suuuuuu sweepies. Wosemawy pway next bwight-time!” Now she was smiling again, acting like her normal self.
“Fred?” asked John, looking at the foal’s neutral face.
“Nu fankoo, daddeh,” the colt said. “Fwed nu wan pway. Fwed wan west, be wif mummah. Fwed west, den mebbe pway wif bwockies wif sistah.”
“Okay, then. You’re all such good fluffies, daddy likes to see you playing and having fun.”
Dahlia, Rosie and Sparky all cheered at that. “Gud fwuffies! Am gud fwuffies fo bestest daddeh evah!” Dahlia started waving her hooves around, so John set her on the floor and let her run around with her siblings. Rosemary watched them and smiled, but didn’t move to be part of the fun.
“Babbehs su pwetty,” she said, sighing. “Su gud babbehs, su pwetty babbehs. Su pwoud mummah.”
John stood up. “You should be proud, Rosemary. They’ve very good babies.”
“Fank yu, daddeh. Wuv daddeh.”
“Love you too, Rosemary. I’ll come check on you all later, okay?”
“Otay, daddeh!”
John left the safe room and headed for the living room, where he’d set up his laptop. Yeah, he was going to check on them later. But he was going to check on them right now, too. Secretly. He wanted to find out what Rosemary was whispering to Fred. He booted the laptop up, set up the camera software, and put in his earbuds. He opened up the monitoring program and hoped he was worrying over nothing.
===
Rosemary was very worried. Her bestest baby was becoming more and more demanding, and it was getting harder and harder to make sure he kept his bestest baby status a secret. She hadn’t realized it was going to be like this when she decided he was the bestest baby. At first he was content to just drink a little extra milk at night while his siblings slept, to have some extra hugs and snuggles. Then he wanted reassurance, more whispered praise about how good and smart he was.
After a few days he started playing less and less with his siblings and started spending more time snuggled into her fluff. He’d watch his siblings while they played and would ask Rosemary if he was still the bestest baby. Midnight whisperings became daytime assurances that yes, he was definitely the bestest baby. He began to monopolize her time; she stopped being able to play as much with the other babies because her bestest baby would want snuggles all the time. He wanted to be close to her, to be reassured. Deep down she knew he wanted her all to himself, that he wanted to keep her away from her other babies. She wouldn’t let that happen. Besides, none of her babies minded that her bestest wasn’t playing with them as much. They had plenty of fun with each other! And they got plenty of milkies and huggies and love anyway! The extra attention she had to give Fred left her tired, though.
Daddy was noticing. Maybe she’d made a mistake? Maybe he knew that she’d broken his rules? Maybe he DID know better than she did? No. No, that couldn’t be it. But he WAS noticing that something was wrong. Sometimes he’d just show up in the safe room, surprising and startling her. Usually she was lavishing quiet praise on her bestest baby, so the shock of daddy’s sudden appearances scared her and made her feel guilty. She knew that daddy would be very disappointed with her if he found out what was going on. He might even be mad! He might punish her again! Oh, she didn’t want punishment. She remembered just how sad it had made her, how it had given her the absolute worst heart hurties. Rosemary knew that daddy deserved better than being lied to, but she couldn’t go back now. Besides, her bestest baby needed her. He needed to know he was the bestest. She had to be the bestest mother for him.
Now daddy had just left the safe room, and three of her babies were playing huggie tag. Her bestest was nestled up against her chest, watching them like he usually did. He was quiet for a while. In the silence she watched her babies, too, smiling at how happy and sweet they all were. Finally her bestest baby spoke up.
“Mummah,” he said, his voice quiet and serious. “Teww Fwed bout bein bestest babbeh.”
She leaned down and muttered to him quietly. “Fwed am bestest babbeh, mummah wuv Fwed da bestest.”
“Mowe wuv dan uddah babbehs?”
“Mummah wuv aww babbehs mostest. Buh Fwed am bestest babbeh.”
“Mummah nee wuv Fwed mowe den aww dem udah dummeh babbehs.” He said it sternly, demandingly.
It shocked her. He had never called any of his siblings “dummy babies” before. She remembered that daddy had specifically told her to tell him if ANY of her babies used words like that. She had promised. Now it had happened, and the words had come from her bestest baby! He bestest baby was demanding that she love him more than all the others, which she couldn’t do. She really did love all of them so, so much. Should she tell daddy? She couldn’t! Then she’d have to tell him how she’d broken his rules again and daddy would be so, so mad at her. Plus she’d be tattling on her bestest baby, which would break his heart. Daddy might even punish him. She couldn’t let her bestest baby be punished.
“Babbehs nu am dummeh babbehs,” she whispered to him, her voice just as stern. But it was laced with worry, too. “Babbehs am aww gud babbehs.”
“Dem nu am bestest babbehs. Dem am dummeh babbehs. Dummeh poopie babbehs.”
“Babbeh, nu say dat. Dat wong. Nu am gud.”
Her bestest baby looked up and locked eyes with her. “Mummah am dummeh mummah if nu tink dem babbehs am dummeh babbehs. Am dummeh mummah if nu wuv bestest babbeh mo dan udah babbehs.”
Rosemary felt her heart break. Her bestest baby had just called her a dummy mother. “Bestest babbeh,” she whispered. “Nu say mummah am dummeh fwuffy. Gif wowstest heawt huwties tu mummah.”
He looked away from her again, staring at his siblings. “Den mummah nu say dummeh tings, du dummeh tings. Wuv bestest da mostest. If nu wuv bestest babbeh da mostest, den wowstest heawt huwties am wat mummah desewf.”
She didn’t even know how to respond. The heartache was too much for her to bear, too much for her to process. He couldn’t just call her a dummy, right? He had to be punished. But then if she punished him, would he still be her bestest baby? Would that make him think she was an even WORSE mother? Would it mean that she’d been wrong all along, that none of her babies were bestest babies and that she should have listened to daddy? So many thoughts and emotions rolled through her tiny fluffy brain, and she didn’t know how to deal with all of them.
“Babbeh nu say dat,” she said in a cracked voice. “Babbeh nu tawk to mummah wike dat.”
“Bestest babbeh wiww tawk how wan tawk. Am bestest babbeh.”
“Babbeh, Wosemawy am mummah. Nu tawk wike dat tu mummah.” She was slightly more stern this time.
He looked back up at her again, but his face was no longer neutral. There was hate on it this time. “Mummah nu teww smawty wha can du. Mummah am dummeh, gud fow miwkies an wawm fwuff. Buh am dummeh. Dun make bestest babbeh hachu.” He stood up and walked away from her before she could respond.
Rosemary was stunned into silence. Her bestest baby had just told her, basically, that he hated her. She lowered her head into her legs and cried softly, not wanting to disturb her other babies.
She didn’t know what to do anymore.
===
John was absolutely shocked. And really, really fucking pissed off.
He’d just watched Fred insult his mother, call himself a smarty, then essentially tell her that he hated her. He’d been so fucking stupid to let things get to this point, and now he wondered if the colt was too far gone to be salvaged. If he’d been smarter, if he’d noticed all of the signs and realized what he was dealing with, then he would have caught it sooner and been able to fix it. But from everything he’d read there basically wasn’t a chance to fix things once they were calling themselves “smarty.”
Rosemary had lied to him. Well, she’d broken his rules. Again. So, basically the same thing. She had to be punished. Fred had to be punished. He was pretty sure that he could save Rosemary and turn her into a good fluffy again. Fred, he wasn’t so sure. What would he do with the colt if he couldn’t salvage him? Toss him in the trash? Take him to the shelter and have them put him to sleep? Rosemary would be crushed, which would make it more difficult to keep her on the path to being a good fluffy again.
Fuck.
Either way, they both had to be punished. He set up the big sorry box in the guest bathroom, sitting it in the tub. Then he set the foal-sized sorry box up in the master bathroom, setting it in the sink. He grabbed a regular sorry stick for Rosemary and the Sorry Stick Jr. for Fred, and stalked back to the safe room.
The foals were still playing, except for Fred. He was stacking blocks all by himself, and he didn’t look up when John entered the room. Rosemary, still crying, looked up at him.
“D…d…daddeh?” she asked, surprised. “Daddeh am back aweady?”
“We need to have a talk, Rosemary.” He lifted her up and carried her out of the room.
“Whewe mummah goin?” asked Sparky. “Nee mummah!”
“She’ll be back soon. She has to go with daddy for a little bit, okay?”
“Otay daddeh!” The foals went back to playing. Fred, however, looked up and stared as Rosemary was carried away.
John set her down in the bathtub, and her eyes widened when she saw the sorry box.
“Daddeh, Wosemawy nu wan sowwy boxie!”
“Rosemary, you’re about to be punished. You’ve lied to daddy. You’ve broken daddy’s rules. Do you want to admit what you’ve done, so that maybe I’ll punish you a little less?”
“Fwuffy nu knu wha daddeh tawkin bout.”
“Seriously? Last chance, Rosemary.” She was already referring to herself as “fluffy.” She knows she’s in trouble, she doesn’t feel bad about what she’s done, and she doesn’t want to actually apologize. Jesus Christ.
“Fwuffy nu knu!”
John reached into his pocket and pulled out the extendable sorry stick. He extended it to its full length and, without hesitation, brought it down hard on Rosemary’s ass, right over her asshole.
“SCREEEEEEE!” she screamed. “DADDEH GIF WOWSTEST HUWTIES! PWEASE NU HUWT FWUFFY!”
“You’ve LIED to me!” he shouted, bringing the sorry stick down over and over again. He was careful not to break the skin, to stay away from areas that would scar and cause her to lose fluff. But he raised several welts as he went. “You’ve BROKEN MY FUCKING RULES! You made me look like a fucking MORON!” Four lashes, five, six. She screamed, but he didn’t stop. “I SAVED your fucking stupid ass, and THIS is how you repay me? By raising a fucking SMARTY? By telling Fred he’s your fucking BESTEST BABY? I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO IT, AND YOU FUCKING PROMISED YOU WOULDN’T! NOW YOU’RE GOING TO LOSE HIM FOREVER BECAUSE HE’S FUCKING BROKEN! YOU BROKE HIM! YOU’RE A SHITTY FUCKING MOTHER AND YOU FUCKING BROKE YOUR SON!”
Rosemary screamed and cried, snot and tears rolling over her snout and dripping off of her mouth. She begged and begged John to stop, but he didn’t. Not immediately. Fifteen lashes later he was through yelling, through venting his rage. She was trembling, sobbing, and trying to escape from the pain. Her soft hooves couldn’t make any purchase on the smooth surface of the tub, and she kept sliding back down.
“Daddeh, huu huu huuuuuu, daddeh! Poopie pwace haf wowstest huwties! Why daddeh huwt fwuffy? Why nu wuv fwuffy?”
“You stupid bitch,” he growled. “I’ve done nothing BUT love you. And you’ve taken advantage of that love. You think you’re smarter than me? That you know better than me? That you can break my rules and I won’t find out? Do you think I’m COMPLETELY stupid, Rosemary?”
“Nu! Huu huu huuuuu, daddeh! Daddeh nu am dummeh!”
“Then you need to start treating me with the respect I deserve.” He grabbed her by the scruff, eliciting another scream, and stuffed her in the sorry box. Then he turned the water on. “You’re going to sit in here for a while and think about what you’ve done, Rosemary.”
“NUUUUU DADDEH! HAF WOWSTEST HUWTIES! NU WAN SOWWY BOXIE! FWUFFY AM SOWWY!”
“No, you’re not. Because that’s not a real apology.”
“DADDEH! WAWA AM COWD, AM BAD FO FWUFFY! DADDEH! STAHP! PWEASE! NU WAN WAWA!”
Once Rosemary was standing in six inches of water, John turned the faucet off. She was sobbing uncontrollably now, not responding with words. Every now and then he’d hear a light peep from her.
“While you’re in there you need to seriously think about what you’ve done. How you lied. Kept secrets. And how you pulled that ‘bestest baby’ bullshit.” When you’re ready to properly apologize, when you’re ready to change, we’ll talk."
He walked over and cut off the light, leading Rosemary to scream about the scary darkness. For the first time since he’d taken her in he found himself glad that she was scared. He shut the door, plunging her into total darkness, and went to deal with Fred.
The colt was sitting in the nest, just staring off into space. When John entered the room he looked up, his face neutral, and stared at John.
“Whewe am mummah?” he asked. “Babbeh wan miwkies nao.”
“Your mother’s busy right now. She won’t be back for a little while, so you’re not going to get milkies until dinner.”
“Dummeh mummah,” he said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. “Bwing da dummeh back su babbeh can haf miwkies. Nee miwkies. Nu wan wait.”
“You don’t have a choice,” John said. “I’m telling you that you can’t have milkies right now, and you have to wait. What do you think about that?”
“Fwuffy fink daddeh am dummeh daddeh, stoopi hoomin. Fink dummeh daddeh nee bwing dummeh mummah back wight nao, ow dummeh daddeh gon get sowwy poopies.”
The other three foals immediately stopped playing. All of them gasped. Their brother had just insulted their mother AND their daddy! Dahlia looked shocked, but Rosie and Sparky looked angry.
“Bwuddah nu caww daddeh dummeh! Nu caww mummah dummeh! Daddeh an mummah am BESTEST! Wuv daddeh an mummah. Bwuddah nu say dat!”
“Smawty say wha smawty wan say.”
“We’ll see about that,” John said as he grabbed the little colt and lifted him by his neck fluff and mane. He pulled the Sorry Stick Jr. out of his pocket, extended it with his teeth since his other hand was occupied, and held Fred up so the others could see. “Your brother insulted your mother. He insulted me. He’s being a VERY BAD fluffy. And bad fluffies get punished.”
“Bwuddah desewf da sowwy stick. Bwuddah am bad fwuffy,” Rosie said. Dahlia and Sparky nodded in agreement. They all looked unhappy, but it didn’t seem like they were blaming John. All of them were on his side.
“Wet smawty DOWN NAO,” Fred shouted, his voice suddenly full of emotion. Mostly anger. “Smawty NU AM BAD FWUFFY. Dis smawty housie nao! Dummehs gif smawty wha smawty wan!”
John brought the sorry stick down in the same places he had on Rosemary. For all of Fred’s defiance, he buckled instantly. The first swat made him scream and start begging for mercy. John didn’t stop, swatting him again and again while explaining why it was happening.
“You are NOT a smarty. You are NOT the bestest baby. There IS no bestest baby. Your brother and your sisters are GOOD fluffies. You DO NOT insult your daddy. You do NOT insult your mother. You do NOT insult your brother or your sisters. You WILL learn to be a good fluffy, or you WILL get forever sleepies!” Ten swats seemed like enough; John dropped the sorry stick and held Fred up so he could get a good look at him.
The colt was sobbing uncontrollably, just like his mother. He was trying to speak, but all he could manage were more sobs, punctuated by chirps and peeps. I hope I haven’t broken him, John thought. He knew that chirps and peeps were a really bad sign. Still, the colt needed to do time in the sorry box. For all John knew the colt could be faking.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he told the other fluffies. They all nodded, stunned into silence. He stepped over the gate and made his way to the master bathroom. By the time he got there, Fred had found words again.
“Fwuffy haf wowstest poopie pwace huwties, daddeh,” he sobbed. “Pwease nu huwt babbeh nu mowe.”
“Are you sorry for what you did?”
“Wha? Wha fwuffy do?”
“Insulting me? Your mother, your siblings?”
“Fwuffy jus say all dem am dummehs, an daddeh am dummeh. Am twue. Nu bad, jus twue.”
“Righty-o then, you self-important little piece of shit.” He stuffed the struggling colt into the sorry box. “You get to spend a few hours in there. Let’s see how you like that.”
“NU WAN SOWWY BOXIE!” the colt shouted. “DUMMEH DADDEH, NUUUU! WET SMAWTY GU!”
“Fuck you,” John said, setting the box in the sink and cutting off the light. He closed the door, ignoring the colt’s screamed insults, and headed back to the safe room. He needed to play with the babies right now so that they would know he wasn’t mad at them. So they’d know he wasn’t a monster.
He paused in the living room, then grabbed his phone and called Rebekah.
“Hey, babe,” she said. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got a fucking smarty on my hands,” he sighed.
“Oh, god. I’ll be right over.”
She hung up, and John went to reassure the remaining babies. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but he was through being played for a fool. He was done with the lies and the bullshit. He didn’t even care if the unicorn was a lost cause at this point; he’d never really bonded with the colt anyway, since Fred had been distant from pretty much the very beginning. But he really, really hoped he could save Rosemary. He didn’t want to lose her.
He hoped it wasn’t too late.
im not even happy with that piece of shit insulting everyone even demanding that its his house man, id say shock him a bit or semi drown the bastard.