SOON MUMMAH SPECIALS
A FluffMart Anthology
Chapter One: Blue
Part One
Tuesday was a slow day at FluffMart. The soon-mummahs had time to settle in to their pens, but each of them eagerly anticipated the new mommies and daddies they knew would come for them.
Only the salmon-colored dam didn’t shuffle around her pen, exploring all of the new sights and sounds. She still had heart hurties over her special friend and her big babies—none of whom she would ever see again. A single tear ran down her already matted cheek. The human mare with the brown mane noticed, and crouched down next to her.
“What’s wrong, pretty soon-mummah?”
sniff “Fwuffy miss speshuw fwend. Miss aww babbehs…” sniff
The human clicked her tongue. “What do you mean, you miss your babies? All your pretty babies are still in your tummy!” She petted the despondent mare’s pink mane.
“Nu, nu twue. Fwuffy haf big babbehs. Haf bestest speshuw fwend. Den mistah come an take mummah ‘way fwom fawm, an babbehs, an…an…’PESHUW FWEN’…HUUHUUUUU!!!” She couldn’t hold her feelings in any longer. The heart hurties were too big.
“Now, now, don’t cry. I’m sure your special friend and your babies will have a good life on the farm—and you know what? I’ll bet your new mommy and daddy are going to give you the best safe room and toys and nummies, so that when your tummy babies come you’ll be able to give them the best milkies and huggies and love.”
sniff “Weawwy? Nice wady fink dat?”
She nodded. “I promise.”
The dam still had heart hurties. It was good to know that her special friend and her babies would live happily ever after, but it made her sad to think that she wouldn’t be a part of it—until the nice lady brought her sketties, anyway.
FluffMart ran commercials in the test markets for several days leading up to the official release of the “Soon-Mummah Special”, but really pulled out all of the stops that night. They purchased the same primetime slot on thirty channels, including all of the networks, kids’ programming, and (of course) FluffTV, and ran an ad the marketing department knew would have customers beating down the doors to get theirs.
The first scene showed an immobile blue mare resting on a comfy pillow in her safe room. The room was painted with green rolling hills and a bright blue sky, and a smiling yellow sun could be seen just over the fluffy pony’s hindquarters. The pegasus dam sang:
“Am soon-mummah, am soon-mummah! Gon’ haf bestes’ miwkies fo bestest babbehs!”
As the (heavily auto tuned) soon-mummah continued to sing her repetitive chorus, a human voice drew attention to the scene’s cuteness. All of a sudden, the scene changed to one of a whole litter of giggling, playing foals.
“Hee hee! Nu gunna catch bwuddah!”
“Jus’ ‘oo wait, bwuddah! Wingie-sissy am fastes’ babbeh evah! Hee hee!”
The final scene showed the same blue pegasus dam from the beginning sitting on her haunches as the tired-out foals took turns drinking from her bloated teats and resting in her fluff. The “mummah” sang a new song this time:
“Mummah wuv babbehs, babbehs wuv mummah…dwink wots of miwkies, gwow up big an stwong!”
The dubbed-in human voice closed the commercial with “Get yours TODAY starting at $59.95, at your local FluffMart!”
Of course, the fine print at the bottom of the screen was substantial.
Prices and availability may vary—see store for details. Soon-Mummah Specials are currently only available at FluffMart stores in the Atlanta, Charlotte, and Nashville areas. Not available for shipping. All accessories seen in this advertisement, including beds, balls, blocks, stacking rings, food bowls, water dishes, collars, sorry sticks, carriers, litter boxes, playmats, musical toys, stuffed animals, fluffy-safe televisions, nightlights, birthing mats, saferoom cameras, foal formula, kibble, and spaghetti sold separately. The number of foals to which each Soon-Mummah will give birth may vary. Fluffy Treatment Services, including but not limited to dehorning, amputation, and pillowing are available for your Soon-Mummah Special for an additional cost. Any such treatment services will invalidate the return policy. Soon-mummah specials may be returned to the store where purchased within twenty-four hours of purchase as long as the product has not given birth or miscarried. Other restrictions may apply. See store for details.
Wednesday marked the beginning of the new sales week—and the official launch date for the Soon-Mummah Specials. About an hour after the University City store opened, a young man walked in and purchased the blue unicorn dam. Jen offered him the full gamut of foal and soon-mummah accessories, but he refused. He had owned several fluffy ponies before, and already had everything he needed.
“I will need a bag of ‘Happy Mummah’ kibble, though.”
The dam cost $79.95 (a unicorn with such desirable colors demanded a premium), and the 50lb. bag of kibble cost another $39.99.
“Bye, nice wady! Soon-mummah am goin’ tu nyu howsie wif nyu daddeh nao!”
Jen waved as the man carried the fat unicorn out the front door. And so, the first Soon-Mummah Special was sold.
Brrrrrrrmmmm!
“Nuuuuu! Pwease, nyu daddeh! Sabe soon-mummah! Nu wet metaw munstah num tummeh-babbehs!”
Her new daddy opened the carrier door and patted her head. “Shhhh, it’s ok. It’s just the car. The car is going to take us to our ‘new housie’.”
The dam pondered that for a moment. “Metaw munstah…am caw? Caw am take soon-mummah tu nyu howsie? Dat mean caw am fwend?”
The man nodded. “That’s right. Daddy has your safe room all set up. It’s perfect for babies!”
Excited, the blue unicorn cheered. “Yaaaaaay! Soon-mummah haf bestest nyu daddeh an nyu howsie evah! An haf bestest babbehs evah! Yaaaaay!”
Her daddy was right! She had a brightly-painted saferoom, with a warm, soft bed, a clean litterbox, and lots of toys that were good for foals! She giggled as she batted a red rubber ball around the room, and then heard her daddy coming back down the hallway. Her eyes widened, and she gasped when she saw the bowl that daddy had in his hands.
“SKETTIES!” The unicorn greedily scarfed down the whole bowl as soon as it hit the floor.
The man chuckled. “Wow, I guess you were pretty hungry. Would you like some more ‘sketties’, Blue?”
“Oh, yus, daddeh! Fankoo fow nyu name…soon-mummah am Bwue! Bwue wuv sketties! Bwue wuv nyu daddeh!”
She ate another whole bowl of spaghetti before settling into her comfy nest. When she was settled, her daddy covered her in a soft blanket and turned on the TV. Blue was mesmerized by the “teebee’s” bright colors.
Next, on FluffTV: Babies!
“Yaaaaay! Bwue wub babbehs!”
“Mummah wuv babbehs,
babbehs wuv mummah,
dwink wots of miwkies
gwow up an be stwong!”
Barry Stevens was an IT consultant for some of the area’s biggest companies. He dropped out of college after his second year, realizing that he knew more than most of his professors about his field and that he could get jobs in the field with a few professional certifications. He spent over ten years working primarily as a contractor, supplementing his income by selling electronics he found at yard sales and fixed up himself. By the time his last contract expired a couple of years ago, he had enough contacts to start his consulting business. It paid well, and he liked not having to sit in a cubicle all day. His home office was the envy of all of his techie friends.
He still liked to hit the yard sale circuit, but he mostly bought stuff to amuse himself. A new hobby began when he found Dinky—his first fluffy pony.
Dinky had come from an estate sale nearly five years before. He was a white earthie stallion with a purple mane, and belonged to a little old lady who had lived in a classic Charlotte ranch-style house in Mint Hill. When she died, her two daughters fought over her belongings: antique furniture, Fiestaware, their father’s pristine ’64 Impala…you name it. It might be easier to say they fought over everything the old lady had owned—except for Dinky. Neither of them wanted the hassle of a stupid fake pet (especially one who talked), and so it was decided that the fluffy could go to the highest bidder at the sale.
Barry was the only bidder. He got the stallion for five dollars, which he had considered “a steal” at the time. Of course, that may be because he had never known the…joys…of fluffy ownership before.
The old bat had clearly spoiled the pony. It demanded “sketties” all of the time. It shat all over Barry’s house (costing him several thousand dollars he didn’t have at the time in cleaning fees). It demanded he bring it a “speshuw fwend” for “speshuw huggies time”.
Thankfully, the internet was replete with information about fluffy ponies. Barry quickly found sympathetic voices on local fluffy forums.
seriously, you actually bought a used fluffy pony? how did you think this was going to end?
fucking hugboxers kys faget
Just be sure to distress the meat to bring out the full flavor. Skinning and removing the digestive tract while it’s alive should do the trick!
Fortunately, he found a subforum on FluffAroundCharlotte.com where owners were dealing with the exact problems he had. Many of them recommended getting Dinky fixed to reduce his aggressiveness. Others recommended getting a tougher Sorry Stick—he had been using a plastic flyswatter, which the stallion seemed to just shrug off.
Barry called a nearby vet to see what neutering the disobedient fluffy would cost him. His face paled when the receptionist quoted him at $350. He didn’t have that kind of money. Eventually, Dinky pissed him off so much that he grabbed a steak knife out of the kitchen and did the job himself.
The good news? That ended the demands for “speshuw huggies”. The bad news? He still shat everywhere when “sketties” weren’t on the menu. Barry resolved that problem by shoving a bottle rocket up Dinky’s ass and sending him to the moon.
The experience soured Barry on fluffy ponies as pleasant companions. He found himself browsing abuser forums with increasing frequency, and the “safe room” he set up for Dinky became ground zero for his own activities.
He took in many fluffies over the years: smarties, stray mares, orphaned foals, and desperate soon-mummahs. The last category was his favorite. Sometimes the dam deserved the punishments he meted out—mares, he discovered, could be incredibly cruel to their own foals. But he liked best the ones who gave their foals all of the “bestest miwkies”, “wuv”, and “huggies” they could muster. They were the ones most crushed when watching their babies die gruesome, prolonged deaths.
One of the things he did to exacerbate the mummahs’ suffering was to play recorded clips from FluffTV’s “Babies!”, interspersed between videos of their own foals being tortured. He sat on his couch one night recently, saving the best clips for later use, when the new FluffMart commercial played.
Barry was captivated by the “Soon-Mummah Special” concept. His feral dams were used to suffering and neglect—they were still fun to break, but it was almost as though they expected pain as part of their life’s course. But these…THESE! He had never had an opportunity to keep a coddled fluffy who believed its purpose was fulfilled by giving and receiving huggies and love. The cost was insignificant at this point in his life. He could afford to treat himself.
Blue lay contentedly on her bed, snuggling a stuffy friend and humming a “soon-mummah” song to herself. Many bright-times had passed since she came to her new safe room, and she couldn’t move an inch. Daddy had put her litter box behind her so she wouldn’t make bad poopies, and moved her food and water dishes next to her head so she could reach them. He had given her sketties every day! She was convinced she had the bestest daddy any fluffy ever had.
gurgle
Uh oh. Her tummy felt uncomfortable. She tried to wiggle her rump and lift up her tail to make good poopies, but then felt a rush of pain sweep over her.
“SCREEEEEEEEEE! Hewp, daddeh! Bwue haf wowsest huwties! Nee make biggest poopies!”
Her daddy quickly ran to her aid. Within moments he was at her side, and had placed a clean birthing mat behind her.
“HNNNNGGGGGG! BIGGEST POOPIES!!!”
Over an hour later, Blue’s bed was literally crawling with babies! She gave birth to eight foals. Daddy handed each one to her for “lickie cleanies”, and she declared them to be “good babies”.
Except for the last one. There was something wrong with the little green unicorn filly. She smelled…off. Blue pushed the green baby away, refusing her milkies. But daddy spoke to her sternly.
“Now, Blue—this little green baby needs milkies, too.”
“Bu’ daddy…dat am dummeh babbeh. Nu can haf miwkies. Nu wan!”
Daddy slapped her on the nose—the first time he had ever disciplined her. He shoved the green runt onto her teat, but Blue was too busy rubbing her nose to resist.
“Huu huu…why daddeh huwt Bwue’s smeww-pwace? Am gud mummah…huu huu…”
The man pointed his finger at the fluffy. She winced, thinking that he was going to strike her again. “You listen to me: that little green one is going to get as many milkies as he wants. If he doesn’t—if he takes ‘forever sleepies’—then it’s your fault, and you will get hurties. Do you understand?”
“Huuuuu…yus, daddeh. Bwue wiww gif miwkies tu dummeh babbeh. Bwue wuv aww babbehs.”
Daddy nodded his head, and then turned and headed for the safe room door. Because his head was turned, Blue couldn’t see the grin on his face.
“NUUUUUU! Nu, gween babbeh—nu take foweva sweepies! Nuuuuuuuu!”
Barry grinned. He knew that the runt was sure to die, from the time that Blue had rejected her. There were several hidden cameras set up in the saferoom, so he had watched as the dam futilely tried to nurse the foal. Every time milk went in her mouth, it came right back up—likely a result of underformed organs.
“HUU HUU HUUUUUUU…am sowwy, gween babbeh. Am su sowwy.”
Barry threw open the saferoom door, startling his fluffy. Blue painted the back half of her litterbox with “scaredy poopies”.
“Oh…my…GOD! Blue, what did you do?!?”
“Huuuuu…am sowwy, daddeh! Dummeh babbeh nu wan miwkies. Babbeh haf sickies wawa aww ova Bwue’s miwkie pwace. Pwease, nu huwt Bwue, huu huu…”
He shook his head. “I told you what would happen if your baby died. It’s all your fault, and now you’re going to get hurties.”
The blue dam stood up and backed herself into the nearest corner. Her foals all fell off, chirping in distress. “Nu! Nuuuuuuuu!”
He reached down and grabbed the unicorn by the tail. Terrified at being upside down, she made “scaredy poopies” again, covering both her back and belly in runny shit. Together, they made their way to the garage, where Barry kept a workbench with a few basic tools.
“So, Blue. What should we take first. Oh, I know! How about a ‘leggie’?” He picked up his reciprocating saw, plugged it in, and pulled the trigger a couple of times for effect.
bzzt**bzzt
Blue’s eyes widened. She tried to run across the bench to get away, but couldn’t escape before her daddy clamped his hand down on her back. “NUUUUUUHUHUUUUU!!! Pwease nu take weggie! Mummah nee’ weggies fo pway an gif hugs!”
“Well, the way I see it, you have one less baby. You should be able to do with one less leggie, right!” He lowered the saw to the unicorn’s right front leg.
bzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
“SCREEEEEEEEEE! WOWSEST HUWTIES! WHY HUWT BWUE…AM GUD MUMMAH! SCREEEEEEEEEEE!”
The saw cut through flesh and bone like a carving knife through the Thanksgiving turkey. The hard part was sewing the bitch back up. Barry had never been much of a sewer, but his rough skill (and copious amounts of “Stawp Huwties Fluffy Antibiotic Salve”) managed to get the job done.
He took the sobbing mare back to the saferoom, pushing chirping foals aside to make room for their now three-legged mother. The foals all crowded around her teats, having been deprived of milkies for a whole twenty minutes.
Barry had noticed in the first day that Blue liked to sit on her rump while her foals nursed. Deprived of one front leg, she was now apparently unable to shift herself into that position. Instead, she rolled onto her side. Her daddy knelt down next to her head and whispered in her ear:
“Listen, Blue. You were so excited to be a mummah. But being a mummah is a big responsibility. If you can’t keep your foals alive, then you’re a bad mummah. If any more foals take forever sleepies, then you’ll get hurties again. Got it?”
The mare nodded, but was still in too much pain to respond verbally. Her foals continued to chirp and push each other aside to get to her engorged teats.
Two mornings later, Barry woke up before sunrise. Blue had thus far kept her seven remaining foals alive and well fed, and they were starting to move around more. One had even sat up on her hind legs—which was more than the three-legged mare could do now.
He decided it was time to move the plan forward a bit, so he walked to the saferoom and quietly opened the door. Blue slept soundly in her bed, and all of her foals nuzzled in her fluff. He crept over to the dam and gently picked up a purple unicorn colt, carefully pinching its mouth closed so it wouldn’t alarm any of the other fluffies.
Time for breakfast, he thought. His fluffy had only eaten spaghetti since he brought her home, so why change up the routine now?
He pulled a few inches of kitchen twine out of a drawer and quickly tied it around the colt’s mouth, freeing his hands for meal preparation. Rather than popping open a can and nuking it, Barry decided on a classier presentation. He cooked noodles and set the foal down on the steaming hot pasta. The baby was clearly distressed—its legs flailed, and tiny tears formed in its eyes.
You ain’t seen nothing yet. He pulled his saucepan off of the stove, and poured a large helping of bubbling marinara sauce over the noodles. And the foal.
Even with its mouth tied shut, Barry could still hear a high pitched squeal. He decided to pour on more sauce to shut the foal up. To top off the dish, he shook some parmesan out of a can. Blue loved that shit.
In the most sickeningly sweet voice he could muster, he threw open the saferoom door and turned on the overhead light and shouted, “Good morning, Blue! It’s BREAKFAST TIME!”
The blue unicorn dam awoke with a start. Still groggy from foals peeping in the middle of the night, she looked at her daddy and saw that he had her morning spaghetti. She hobbled over to her food bowl and started chowing down—feeding a whole litter of babies was hard work.
“Blue, didn’t you have six babies? I only see five here.” He knew that the dam couldn’t count that high, but if she ate her meal too quickly she wouldn’t realize what was going on—and what fun was that?
“Whuah? Bwue haf…uh…wotsa babbehs.”
Barry nodded. “Uh huh. You have six—not including the one you killed. But where is your pretty purple colt? He’s not over here in your bed with the others.”
Blue looked around. She didn’t see him either. “Babbeh? Whewe am pwetty puwpwe pointy-babbeh?!?” She hobbled over to her bed, but he wasn’t there. She looked into her litterbox, but he hadn’t gone in there.
I could watch her freak out all day, but I’m not going to, he thought. Instead, he knelt down next to her food bowl and picked through some of the uneaten bits. Finding a tiny purple leg—severed by tooth marks at the shoulder—he feigned a look of shock.
“Oh my god—BLUE! You…you…you NUMMED your baby! How could you?!?”
“SCREEEEEEEEE! NUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!”
A quick trip to the kitchen (where Barry had prepared the foal spaghetti) and a chop**chop with the meat cleaver, and Blue was down another leg. This time, her “daddeh” had removed her left rear leg. He chuckled over the next few hours as he watched her tipping over on the saferoom cameras every time she tried to walk. Occasionally she would tip over onto one of her foals, causing it to screeeee in pain and fear.
Tears streamed down the blue unicorn’s cheeks as she lay on her side—her five chirping foals greedily drinking milkies and chirping angrily each time they were pushed out of the way.
Bwue am wowsest mummah evah…nu wan num babbehs. Babbehs nu am nummies! Am onwy wittwe babbehs! She could remember her own mother numming her brown brother to make milkies. That moment had made her scared of her mother. Fortunately, they had been taken in by Mister Harry not long after that, and all of the fluffies had all of the nummies they could want.
But Blue had all of the nummies she could want, too. In fact, her daddy gave her sketties every day—he was the bestest daddy ever!