Rosemary was terrified and miserable beyond her wildest dreams. Daddy was mad at her. He was so, SO mad at her. He’d said so many loud, scary words at her in his mad monster voice! She had the worstest heart hurties now because what if daddy didn’t love her anymore? He’d known about her lies. He’d known about her bestest baby. He knew everything and he was so mad at her that maybe he wouldn’t ever forgive her. Now she was stuck in the dark, in the coldest of cold water, in a cramped sorry box that wouldn’t even let her crouch to give her legs relief. Even if she could crouch, the cold water would just make her even colder as she got wetter. Her poopie place hurt worse than anything ever had. All around her poopie place hurt, too. Daddy had even hit her special place once, which was so painful that she hadn’t even been able to scream.
After daddy had stopped hitting her she’d tried to run away from him, to escape his anger and the pain he was giving her. Everything was slippery and she could barely walk through the pain, so she hadn’t made it very far at all. That made her feel guilty; daddy was punishing her for being bad, and she knew she deserved it. But her instincts had taken over and, for a brief minute, she’d wanted to run away from him and escape the pain. Escape the punishment. Escape…her daddy? Did she really want to leave daddy? She loved daddy so much. He’d saved her and given her everything. Then he’d saved her again after she’d broken his rules and made the big mistake with the fluffy who gave her bad special huggies. Now he’d let her have babies, which she’d messed up again. SHE had messed it up. She’d chosen her bestest baby, which was against daddy’s rules, and now her bestest baby thought she was a dummy mother. He even said he might hate her. All of this pain, this suffering, these heart hurties, she…
Oh no. This was all her fault. All of it.
Rosemary started sobbing again. The fluff on her face was already cold and wet, matted with tears and snot. Everything was her fault. If her daddy didn’t love her anymore, it was her fault. If her bestest baby was bad, it was her fault. It meant she was a bad mother. It meant she was a bad fluffy. Maybe the worst fluffy.
When daddy first got mad and started saying the loud words, Rosemary wasn’t really sorry. Deep down she thought she’d done what was right for her bestest baby. Daddy’s anger and the loud words had made her start doubting. But now, here in this water-filled sorry box, she realized that she’d totally screwed up. NOW she was sorry. Sorry for being a bad fluffy. Sorry for being a bad mother. Sorry for breaking daddy’s rules and filling his heart with so much mad. If she ever got out of the dark and scary place she would tell daddy how sorry she was. Not like before, where she pretended to be sorry. She would REALLY mean it this time, and she would do whatever she had to do so that daddy would love her again. Daddy was the best human ever, the best daddy a fluffy could hope to have. She didn’t deserve such a great daddy, but she’d try to be good enough for him. She’d never break a rule again. She’d never ask for babies again. She’d never even ask for sketties again. All she wanted was his love and his huggies and his nice words.
Many forevers passed and daddy didn’t come to save her from the dark scary place. Eventually she made bad peepees in the water, then bad poopies. The cold water didn’t smell pretty anymore, and Rosemary could feel the peepees and poopies soaking into her fluff. If she ever escaped she knew she wouldn’t smell pretty anymore. Her babies wouldn’t want a dummy, no-smell-pretty mother. They would hate her just like her bestest baby probably hated her right now. Everyone would hate her for being such a terrible, dummy fluffy who didn’t smell pretty. For being the worst fluffy ever. The worst mother ever. It was what she deserved.
“Pwease, daddeh,” she whispered into the darkness. “Pwease safe Wosemawy fwom scawy dawk. Wuv daddeh. Su sowwy, daddeh. Wosemawy su sowwy fo be wowstest fwuffy evah.”
But daddy didn’t come, and she fell into guilty sobs again.
===
Fred didn’t give a fuck about daddy’s bullshit.
Fred was hurt, he was scared, and he was SUPER mad. Who did that dummy daddy think he was, anyway? How did he think that a dummy human had ANY right to hit a SMARTY? How did he think he had ANY right to punish a smarty for ANY reason? Fred didn’t even really think of the dummy human as his daddy. No dummy human could ever really be a smarty’s daddy and besides, the human hadn’t played with him or tried to be nice to him in so many forevers. Sure, Fred usually sat in his dummy mother’s fluff and quietly hated his siblings. But the human could have walked over and picked Fred up and told him that he was the bestest baby, right? Even his dummy mother had managed to constantly tell him that he was the bestest baby. The human couldn’t even manage it once? What a worthless dummy.
Fred hated the human for not realizing how great he was, for not realizing that he was the bestest baby. For not appreciating that he was a superior smarty fluffy. He was starting to hate his mother, too. He wanted constant attention and reassurance that she loved him the most out of all her babies, but she wasn’t giving him what he needed. She kept insisting on feeding his dummy poopie brother and sisters. No matter how much he tried to keep her attention focused entirely on him she was always managing to find time to play with her other babies. To tell them she loved them. To hug them and tell them how pretty and great they were. That they gave the best hugs. No, they didn’t! HE gave the best hugs. The bestest baby ALWAYS GAVE THE BEST HUGS! Not dummy poopie babies. Every time she gave his brother and sisters affection he hated them all a little more. They didn’t deserve anything. He deserved everything.
Now his brother and his sisters were ganging up on him. They were AGREEING with the dummy non-daddy human who said that he - THE SMARTY! - should be punished. All of them just stood there and WATCHED while the dummy monster human hit him over and over and over again, saying all kinds of mean things that weren’t even true! None of them tried to help him. They could have given the human sorry hoofsies, or at LEAST sorry poopies. But no! Nothing. They all thought he was bad, too. Stupid, all of them. Everyone in the house was a dummy. They weren’t smart enough to be his family. They weren’t even smart enough to be his herd, and as a smarty he KNEW he deserved to have a herd. A herd that would bring him the best nummies, a herd that would listen to everything he said and do everything he told them to do. He sure wasn’t going to find a herd here, not with these dummies.
He shivered in the cold darkness and tried to shift his sore legs. His poopie place was aching, the welts surrounding it stinging so badly that he kept crying quietly. At least the monster human hadn’t hit his special lumps or his no-no stick. His brother had accidentally kicked him in his special lumps once, not even at full strength, and the white-hot pain had been so excruciating that he hadn’t been able to move for what seemed like forever. Maybe the dummy monster human could have hurt him worse. Or maybe he was too much of a dummy to think about hitting Fred’s special lumps. Either way, he was at least grateful for that. Still, he was in a lot of pain. Sometimes he’d shift and his rear would bump the back of the sorry box, and pain would shoot through his entire body as he screamed about “worstest hurties.”
Fred eventually made bad poopies, which hurt so much that he started to cry again. Then he made bad peepees, which didn’t hurt at all, but which covered the bottom of the box and soaked into the fluff around his hooves. He was standing in his poopies and peepees, his rump and legs covered in filth. He could feel it in his tail fluff. It didn’t smell pretty. It sure didn’t FEEL pretty. He couldn’t escape it, either. The sorry box was too small. All he could do was stand in his own filth and get madder and madder at everyone who had caused him to end up here.
At some point the dummy not-daddy would come back and take Fred out of the sorry box. It was only a matter of time. Fred knew he couldn’t be left in there forever. The monster human wouldn’t leave him there to starve until he took forever sleepies. Once he came back, Fred had decided to apologize for what he’d said and done. Being a smarty he was sure he could fool the not-daddy and get taken back to his siblings. Once he was in the safe room, once the not-daddy wasn’t there to stop him, he was going to make his stupid poopie brother and sisters suffer for betraying him. His sisters would get sorry poopies first, and then he’d give his brother sorry hoofsies until he took forever sleepies. That would teach his sisters and his mother a lesson. They’d learn some respect. The dummy not-daddy would see what a smarty was really capable of, and Fred would be left alone to run the house however he wanted. Otherwise Fred would have to give ALL of his family forever sleepies, and there’s no way the monster human would want that to happen.
He had a plan. All he had to do was wait, stay tough through the fear, and try to stop crying. All he had to do was remember how angry he was and how much his family deserved to suffer for what they’d done.
Fred waited in the darkness, muttering to himself between soft, quiet sobs.
===
Rebekah showed up an hour later carrying a large FluffMart bag. She hugged John, then started in with the questioning before he could ask what was in the bag.
“What did you do with the smarty?”
“He’s in the little sorry box, in the master bathroom. Rosemary’s in her sorry box in the guest bathroom.”
“So, uh, what are you going to do if you need to, you know…relieve yourself?”
“I, ah…fuck. I didn’t think about that.”
“Good thing I’m here,” she grinned. “First of all, did he actually say he was a smarty?”
“Yeah. He used the word.”
“You know your best option is to kill him now, right?”
“I’m not super heartbroken about that, weirdly enough. He started off sweet, hell, he’s still sweet sometimes. But most of the time he’s a weird little shit which, you know, it all makes sense now. I’d prefer not to kill him if I can avoid it, though.”
“I know, but once they’re full-blown smarties there’s pretty much zero chance you can fix them. Remember I mentioned resetting earlier? Well, you can try to reset their brains with an electrical shock. It’s like a reboot, wipes out their memories and resets their personality. But it only works maybe one time out of every twenty, and with foals? Always fatal.”
“So killing him’s pretty much the only option.”
“The only one that’s least likely to lead to further bullshit, yeah. You leave him in there with his family, he’s going to either turn them into little assholes, too, or he’s going to hurt them.”
“You’ve seen a whole lot of shit working in the shelter, huh?”
“You have no idea. I mean, you’ve got other options. You could pillow him and turn him into a litterpal. Some people would do that.”
“Jesus, no. Pillowing them just makes them even harder to care for, from what I’ve read. And what’s a litterpal?”
“A legless, toothless fluffy that’s crammed into a box and forced to eat other fluffies’ shit. They’ll just use his mouth like a litterbox, then make him lick their assholes clean, and th…”
“Holy shit, no. Fuck. That’s some super dark shit. People do that?”
“Yeah. When it comes to abuse that’s honestly on the milder side of things.”
“Okay, that’s a big no from me. If I’m going to kill him, it’s going to be quick.”
“You can snap his neck, foals are super brittle. Or I can grab some stuff from the shelter to put him to sleep. We’ve got plenty, nobody’s going to care.”
“I guess I’ve got some thinking to do. So, what’s in the bag?”
Rebekah placed it on the counter and started unloading supplies. “So I know you’re not going to like this, but I think you need to leave Rosemary in her sorry box overnight. It won’t kill her, it won’t cripple her. But it’s going to hurt her and make her really miserable. If you want to break her and try to turn her into a good fluffy again, that’s the best way to start.” She placed some small bottles on the counter, followed by some canned fluffy formula.
“All night? I was thinking maybe four, five hours.”
“Good start. I’d go for close to twenty-four hours.” The shock on his face didn’t surprise her, and she reassured him. “I know, I know. It sounds really extreme. But I’ve seen it work. I’ve personally watched it work.”
“Jesus, that’s so long. But if it’ll work…”
“It’s your best shot. You should leave the smarty in for just as long. Bring 'em out around the same time. You’re probably gonna hate this, too, but you should kill the foal in front of her.”
“What if that breaks her completely, destroys her mind?”
“It won’t. But it’ll drive the point home, and I guarantee none of her other babies will become bestest babies. Again, I’ve seen it work. Hell, I’ve had to do it.”
“You’re a scary woman, Rebekah.”
“It’s part of my charm.” She leaned in and kissed him, then motioned to the supplies. “You’ll need to feed the foals tonight and tomorrow morning. You’ll need to explain to them exactly what’s going on. I can help you feed them.”
“I’d really appreciate that. So…spending the night, huh?”
Rebekah grinned. “Only if you put that fucking smarty out in the garage for the night. I don’t want to hear him crying if I have to use the bathroom.”
“Fair enough. You know, I probably would have screwed all of this up way more if you hadn’t been here to give me advice.”
“You can reward me by cooking dinner again. That seems like a fair trade.”
“Deal.”
===
The dummy human monster was PLAYING with him. Fred had been sobbing quietly again when he suddenly saw a very faint light creeping in around the top of the sorry box. He felt the box being lifted up and moved, which he figured must have meant that he was getting out soon. He called out and tried to get the dummy not-daddy to listen to him.
“Daddeh!” he shouted. “Daddeh, safe poow widdwe babbeh! Babbeh am su scawed! Am su dawkies! Nu smeww pwetty!” He forced out a sob, feeling proud that he was so good at pretending. “PWEASE, DADDEH! FWUFFY AM SU SOWWY! AM BAD FWUFFY, AM BAD BABBEH! FWUFFY SUUUUUU SOWWY! PWOMISE TU BE GUD FWUFFY! HUU HUU HUUUUUUUU!”
“Shut up, you little shitrat,” the dummy human growled. “Your punishment isn’t over yet. If you think you’re sorry now, you’ll be even more sorry tomorrow.”
Fred couldn’t believe it. The human WASN’T letting him go?
“Daddeh?” he asked, confused. “Nu wet fwuffy out da sowwy boxie?”
“Nope. I’m moving you so I can get my bathroom back.”
“Buh…buh daddeh. Fwuffy am sowwy. Fwuffy say am sowwy. How time tiww nu in sowwy boxie?”
“What, you think saying you’re sorry once is going to fix things?”
“Yus. Daddeh wan fwuffy say sowwy, Fwuffy say sowwy. Dat am dat. Nu mowe in twoubwe.”
“You know what? One, a quick apology isn’t enough to make up for the things you said. And two, you don’t actually sound sorry. You’re not a very good little actor.”
Fred was ENRAGED. The dummy not-daddy was making fun of him, saying Fred couldn’t fool him! Of COURSE Fred could fool him! Fred was a SMARTY! Maybe he was just too tired and in too much pain to be convincing. Once he was out of the sorry box he’d be the best again, and he’d be able to fool EVERYONE! How dare this dummy human insult him like this? Who did he think he was?
“STAHP TAWKIN, DUMMEH HOOMIN! NU AM DADDEH! AM DUMMEH! WET SMAWTY OUT AN GET WOWSTEST HUWTIES AN SOWWY HOOFSIES!”
“There we go, that’s the sort of shit I’d expect to hear from a smarty. But I thought you were sorry!”
Fred felt the box being set down again. He heard a female human’s voice, too. One he’d heard coming from outside the safe room before.
“Wow,” the woman’s voice said. “Listen to that! He’s a full-blown smarty. What a little shit.”
“HOOMIN MAWE!” Fred shouted. “WET SMAWTY GO AN GIF BESTEST NUMMIES, AN SMAWTY WIWW GIF DUMMEH HOOMIN NU-DADDEH FOWEVAH SWEEPIES!” He didn’t know why he was screaming for nummies. He couldn’t even eat them; he was still drinking his mother’s milkies. It just SEEMED like the right thing to shout.
“That’s gonna be a hard pass for me there, little smarty,” the human mare laughed. Laughed! She LAUGHED at him! How DARE she?
As the lights went out, Fred tried screaming at the humans one last time. He screamed and screamed, but they didn’t answer him. Nothing he shouted at them made any difference at all. They were gone, and he was alone again in the darkness, stewing in his own piss and shit.
He couldn’t wait to give them forever sleepies. He’d do it to them first, before he gave his brother forever sleepies. They deserved it more. At least his brother hadn’t LAUGHED at his misery.
Soon. They’d all pay soon.
===
“Whewe am mummah?” Dahlia asked as she trotted over to John. “Babbehs su hungee. Nee miwkies fo wowstest tummeh huwties. Pwease gif mummah fo miwkies, daddeh? Pwease?”
“Yus, daddeh,” Sparky said, sprinting over and sitting at John’s feet. “Babbehs wuv mummah, nee miwkies su can gwow big an stwong. Pwease gif mummah?”
“Pwease,” Rosie added, joining her siblings. “Wuv daddeh, wuv mummah. Wan be gud babbehs fo daddeh an mummah, buh nee miwkies pwease.”
“Oh my god,” Rebekah said, stepping over the baby gate. “You’re all so adorable! And you’re actually saying please? What good fluffies you are!”
They all looked up at Rebekah and cocked their heads. “Hewwo, nice wady,” Dahlia said. “Am nice wady daddeh’s speshuw fwiend?”
“I sure am,” she said, grinning. “I’m your daddy’s special friend and I love him very much.”
“Den babbehs wuv nice wady tu,” she said, trotting over to Rebekah and assuming the “upsies” pose. Rebekah picked Dahlia up and held her to her chest; the filly cooed and burbled as she nestled into Rebekah’s shirt, hugging the woman with all her tiny might. “Wuvoo,” Dahlia muttered between happy sounds, her hunger temporarily forgotten. “Wuvoo.”
“Oh, Jesus,” she said, looking over at John. John shrugged and smiled. “I love you too, little Dahlia,” she said.
John sat on the floor and placed Rosie and Sparky in his lap. “Your mother is being punished right now,” he said. “She’s been a very bad fluffy, and bad fluffies get punished.”
The two foals nodded. Dahlia looked over briefly, then pushed her face against Rebekah’s shirt again. “Bad fwuffies nee be punish,” Rosie said. “Desewf be sowwy, den be gud fwuffy 'gain.”
“Das wight,” Sparky said. “Bwuddah am bad fwuffy. Am bwuddah be punish?”
John looked at them seriously, and lowered his voice. “Your brother won’t be coming back. He’s been the worst fluffy. He’s been mean to you, to your mother, and to your daddy. He’s been the worst fluffy ever, and the worst fluffies get forever sleepies.”
“Aww nuuuu,” Dahlia gasped. “Bwuddah am take fowevah-sweepies?”
“Yes,” John said. “He’s gone forever.”
“Dat suuuuu saddies,” Dahlia said, her voice quavering. “Bwuddah nevah couwd be gud fwuffy 'gain?”
“No, he was too bad to ever be good again. He’d become a smarty. Once you become a smarty, you can never be good again. You can only be bad. You can only hurt the fluffies around you. You can only do the worst things.”
“Dawia unnastan,” she said. “Stiww su saddies. Dawia wish bwuddah nu evah be smawty. Awways wish bwuddah be gud an nice and gif wuv and huggies. Bwuddah du dat fo sumtimes, den bwuddah nu be nice nu mowe. Gif mummah wowstest heawt huwties dis bwight-time.”
“He did. He made her so, so sad. He made me sad, too. I want all of you to remember this, and I want you to all be the best fluffies possible. You’re all so sweet and well-behaved, and daddy loves you very much. Will you all promise to keep being good fluffies?”
“Spawky pwomise awways be gud fwuffy, wuv mummah an daddeh an gif bestest huggies an wuv.”
“Wosie pwomise be wike bwuddah say, wuv suuuuu much, daddeh. Wuv daddeh an mummah.”
“Dawia pwomise, daddeh. Nu be bad fwuffy. Nu wan evah gif daddeh aw mummah ANY heawt huwties, nu even widdwe heawt huwties.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” He reached into the bag and brought out three little bottles full of warm milk. “Now since your mommy won’t be back until tomorrow, Rebekah and I are going to feed you.” He reached up and handed a bottle to Rebekah. “Are you all okay with that?”
“Daddeh…haf miwkies?” Sparky said, confused.
“That’s right, in these little bottles. It’s delicious milk. Maybe not as good as your mommy’s milkies, but they’re good milkies and will help you be big and strong. Now roll over on your backs, and I’ll make sure you’re well-fed.”
Rebekah cupped Dahlia in her hand and held the tiny filly to her chest, bringing the bottle into place with her other hand and smiling as the little fluffy started eagerly suckling at the rubber nipple. Sparky and Rosie rolled over just as John told them to, and he held a bottle in each hand. They quickly adjusted to the bottles and were voraciously drinking their fill. The little fluffies reached up and wrapped their hooves around the bottles, pulling them down against their stomach fluff. John let the bottles go and watched them, taking in the adorable scene with a grin.
“It’s not fair,” Rebekah said. “They’re so adorable that it’s just not fair.”
“You’ve worked with them for how many years?” he asked. “And you’re not immune yet?”
“I’m immune to most fluffies. The really cute babies get me every time, when they’re this well-behaved. I know Rosemary’s screwed up, but John, damn. She’s raised these three really well. She can be a good mother.”
“Mummah am best mummah,” Dahlia said, breaking away from her meal. “Wuv mummah mowe dan anyfing.”
“Wuv mummah!” Rosie and Sparky shouted almost in unison. All three foals quickly resumed their feeding.
She’s right, he thought. She was a really good fluffy at the beginning. I KNOW she can be a really good fluffy again. I’ve got to teach her a lesson with her little smarty. I’ve got to make sure the lesson sticks. I can’t lose her. Her BABIES can’t lose her. I have to fix this.
“Sweetie? Could you grab a couple of things from the shelter while I cook dinner? I think I know how this is going to have to go down, and they’re going to need baths first.”
“Of course. What do you want me to get?”
“A handful of those sleepy-time things the doc gave to Rosemary, for starters. And a needle full of the super-sleepies stuff.” He didn’t want to say “forever sleepies” in front of the foals.
“Can do, as soon as we’re done here.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate all of this.”
They finished feeding the foals in silence. Once they were well-fed and sleepy, John and Rebekah left them in their nest and quietly left the safe room. Then John shared his plan with Rebekah. She returned with the supplies just as dinner hit the table; they enjoyed a quiet meal, a movie, and a not so quiet time in the bedroom. They fell asleep before midnight, ready for the morning.
===
In the darkness, in her sorry box, Rosemary screamed. She screamed apologies. She screamed in pain. She screamed coherently, then incoherently, then in an increasingly raspy tone as her voice started to leave her. Her throat was parched and punished, her body felt like it would never be okay again. She’d never known this much pain, this much discomfort, this much agony and fear. It felt like she was dying. Deep down, part of her wanted to die.
“Nu wan die befowe see babbehs,” she choked out in a barely audible voice. “Wan see babbehs, wan wuv babbehs, den die. Pwease, daddeh. Pwease. Safe Wosemawy. Gif babbehs. Su sowwy. Su sowwy.”
She somehow fell asleep standing up and dreamed the most horrible dreams. They would jolt her awake; she’d cry, somehow finding more water in her body to make a few more tears. She’d fall asleep again and her body would try to settle into the water, but the dull spikes at the bottom of the box would stop her. They didn’t pierce her skin, but they didn’t have to. The agony would wake her up again. There would be more sobbing, more whispered please that went unanswered. Again and again, for what seemed to be too many forevers to be real.
Daddy never came.
Daddy never came to save her.
“Daddeh nu wuv Wosemawy,” she said. “Nu wuv wowstest mummah nu mowe.”
By the time daddy came to save her the next morning, she believed that more than she’d ever believed anything in her entire life.
