Author’s notes: If you’ve got a weak stomach, this one might be a little rough. Thank y’all for the lovely comments as always, it makes me happy to know that people like these stories I write for catharsis. I hope it helps y’all, too. Stay safe out there.
The Ballad of Stormy Part 15
Brownie’s special lumps were gone, and he couldn’t help but have saddies. He knew he should be happier- Daddy had taken out his badness, and that meant he was a Good Fluffy. He still felt yucky inside. The bandages on his crotch left room for him to go poopies and peepees when he needed to, but it also itched and tugged at the surrounding fur. He had already tried to peel it off, but his soft hoofpads found no purchase against the medical tape. Instead, he was now simply laying on his side, watching his siblings run and play. He couldn’t join them- he couldn’t even sit, as that hurt him. He was snuggled up with Mummah, and that at least helped his saddies and hurties a little bit. Mummah didn’t hug him as much as he would have liked- she seemed to be distracted by something, and as a result wasn’t giving him the much needed huggies to fix his owies. It rankled him.
Coffee and Leaf were playing, but they, too, had a growing uneasiness within them. Brownie had said that Daddy had taken his special lumps- they didn’t know that was a thing that could happen! It hadn’t occurred to either of them that the lumps between their legs were anything important, but the idea of losing them filled them with a quiet terror. Daddy had explained that only Bad Fluffies lose parts, and they hoped that they would never, ever be Bad Fluffies. Grape was running and giggling- her heart was light and filled with gentle joy. She had heard the scary noises yesterday, and she understood that her brother had hurties, but she didn’t really connect things. She had nodded alongside her family when Daddy had explained the revised rules. “Good Fluffies Love Daddy. Good Fluffies don’t embarrass Daddy. Good Fluffies shit in the litterbox. Bad Fluffies lose parts.” Grape didn’t really understand the implications of what these new rules meant. As far as she was concerned, the scary noises and hurties weren’t really real, because they hadn’t happened to her.
Stormy knew and fully understood the Rules without being told. She knew it was up to her to make sure that her babbehs grew up strong, and most importantly, safe. She carefully taught them litterbox etiquette, not to ask for things, not to make noise when Daddy was sleeping, to always say please and thank you… She didn’t tell them about her other babbehs. She didn’t tell them about her other saferoom, or the comfortable pens at FluffMart. She didn’t tell them about the sorry tree, or about how they had come to be. All she told them was to listen to her closely. Planning is not a strong suit for fluffies, but desperation is a strong motivator. Stormy waited, biding her time until she could figure out how to free herself and her babbehs from Daddy.
Brun had spent the day after Brownie’s neutering researching everything he could about fluffy anatomy. There, spread across the internet, a single google search away, was as much information as Brun could possibly ever want on fluffy surgery, modifications, alterations and experiments. He learned that fluffies were considered biotoys, not animals, and therefore were not under the same protections against abuse. He still had to be careful- it wouldn’t do for his newfound hobby to cost him his job. Still, the fact that he even had a hobby was new and exciting. It reminded them of the many “incidents” (as his mother called them) that he’d had during his youth. It brought him the first real thrill of joy he’d felt in years outside of his “services”. Here was an outlet that he wouldn’t end up in prison for. Here, at last, was a hobby.
Leaf and Coffee had finally grown tired of playing with the ball, panting from exertion. They wandered over to where Brownie and Mummah were. Mummah was singing a song and giving careful huggies to Brownie to try to fix his owies. Leaf snuggled carefully in beside his brother, also throwing his remaining front leggy over him in a hug. “Weaf sowwy bwuddah hav huwties.” Brownie just sniffled in response. Coffee rubbed his little belly with a hoof. “Mummah, can hav miwkies? Coffee have tummy-huwties.” Stormy hesitated- she looked over at the empty couch. Daddy had been in his nestie all day, and hadn’t come out to watch them. That worried her more than having him on the couch. Daddy had told her yesterday in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t to give milkies to her babbehs anymore- that it was time to wean them. She didn’t want to- she remembered not giving Trouble enough milk and she wanted to give her babbehs some small comfort now. But… Bad Fluffies lose Parts. She glanced back towards Daddy’s nestie, and made up her mind. “Otay, but huwwy. Daddy nu wan babbehs dwink miwkies, Daddy wan babbehs num kibbwes.” She carefully rolled over onto her side with a little effort (Brownie huffed as he was no longer hugged.) and Coffee latched onto her teat and began to drink greedily. He loved mummah’s milkies so much! They were the bestest, tastiest nummies. They made his belly full and his heart have happies.
Brun stretched, cracking his knuckles and back. It wasn’t like him to hunch over a computer all day. He decided to take a break and eat lunch, and then to watch his fluffies. He stood from his desk, closed his laptop, and entered the hallway. Stormy heard the bedroom door open, and adrenaline and panic shot through her. Coffee was still drinking, and Daddy would see! “Stop dwink miwkies, babbeh!” Coffee was lost in the sauce and paid her no mind. Stormy, panicking, shoved hard with her front legs, rolling her onto her back and taking the nipple from Coffee’s mouth with a small pop. She had managed to stop Coffee from drinking, but now she was stuck! Coffee hiccuped in distress- he had just been numming bestest milkies, and then suddenly he was gulping air, making his tummy hurt! The little fluffy let out another hiccup- owies! His tummy hurt, and now he couldn’t stop making these noises that hurt him! “Why mummah giv huwties? Huuu!”
Brun entered the living room just then, taking in the scene in front of him. Stormy was on her back, waving her forelegs in distress- ti was hard enough for a fluffy to right themselves at the best of times, but moreso when they only had two legs. Her teats were swollen with milk, and a small dribble leaked from one nipple. Coffee sat on the floor, hiccuping. He had milk around his mouth and down his front from the sudden disconnection. Brun approached the pen. Stormy wiggled in vain, trying to right herself. “Pwease, Daddy, hewp Stowmy?” Brun grunted, reaching a huge hand into the pen and settling it on her belly. The fur on her lower half had been rubbed away from the carpet, but her chest was still plush and soft. He paused before rolling her over. “Stormy, why are you on your back?” Stormy went perfectly still. “F-fwuffy was twying wean babbehs. Wowwed ovew to get ‘way fwom babbeh.” Brun’s mouth twitched. Fluffies avoided using their names when they were lying. Brun’s voice was bored, but Stormy understood the danger in the words loud and clear. “Oh? Which baby was it?” Stormy gulped. Daddy was making her choose between admitting she was lying, thus being a Bad Fluffy and losing a part, or she could name a babbeh and have them take the punishment in her stead. Stormy began to tremble.
Her mind raced- which one? She only had her front leggies left, and she needed them for her plan to work! She screwed up her face and let out a choked sob before answering. “Coffee babbeh.” Coffee’s eyes went wide in fear and his whole body began to shake- on the plus side, he had stopped hiccuping. He was a Bad Fluffy. He was going to lose a Part. Brun grunted, picking up Coffee and wrapping him in his giant fist. Coffee could still breathe, but it was very clear that there was no escape. Coffee very nearly did bad scaredy poopies on Daddy’s hand when he realized that if Daddy closed his hand even a little harder, it would give him hurties. Brun rolled Stormy over- and she nearly had her own accident when he suddenly grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and hauled her fat body along with them. He stepped over the pen and made his way to the bathroom. He set the two fluffies in the bathtub and retrieved his toolbag. Brun was a truly excellent surgeon. His hands, large as they were, were dextrous and clever. He had never lost a patient on purpose. He was also, however, not a doctor, legally speaking. He had never gone to college. It had taken him many years to learn the restraint that now governed his being. There had been “incidents”, time spent in juvie, and more time spent in “Psychological Rehabilitation” to keep him out of jail. As a result, no school in their right mind would have accepted him as a student, let alone a medical one.
But Brun was smart, he was quiet, he was skilled and he was ruthless. He had been contacted by his current employer (a man he had never met in person) after his release from the rehabilitation program. He had offered him a job, so long as he kept his mouth shut and didn’t draw attention to himself. Any attention drawn to him (and thus, to his employer) would have left him far worse off than simply being in jail. And so, Brun smiled as he set out his instruments. He sterilized them and washed his hands. He didn’t bother with gloves- he wanted to be able to feel this.
Stormy and Coffee were trapped. Stormy had no way of lifting herself out of the bath, and Coffee’s hooves found no purchase on the smooth surface. They resigned themselves to waiting, hugging each other for comfort. Daddy slowly turned to them, his face his normal mask of apathy, save for the tiniest tilt at the corner of his mouth. He reached in, plucking the little colt from the safety of his mother’s arms, and Coffee began to cry in earnest. “Coffee sowwy! Pwease nu take wumps! Mummah towd Coffee tu dwink miwkies!” Brun, although he already knew this, paused as though the colt’s words had stopped him. He set the small fluffy on the counter anyway, but then turned and picked up Stormy. Her eyes were wide and panicked, and her mouth hung open in shock. Daddy knew! Daddy knew now! Would he believe her, or Coffee?
She was set roughly on the counter, belly up. There would be no need for tape to hold her in place. She held as still as she could, hoping against hope that perhaps she wouldn’t have to lose her leggies. “Pwease, Daddy…” She whispered, barely audible. Daddy said nothing, simply reaching for one of the gleaming things on the counter. She closed her eyes. It was no use. Brun looked at the diagrams he had printed. Fluffies were genetic freaks, and as a result their biology was almost comical. Everything could be removed, modified and twisted. It was part of their design, to match constantly changing market standards and trends. Brun made a confident incision around her breast. Stormy began to scream shrilly, and Brun’s shoulders relaxed. Lovely. He had to be careful. He sliced through the connective tissue, through the fatty tissue and carefully around the milk ducts, swollen with milk. He used a soldering iron to cauterize major bleeding, and before long, he had remvoed her teat, perfectly intact. It amused him. He poked it and it jiggled. Funny. He tossed it into the bathroom bin and repeated the process.
Stormy didn’t scream through the second half of the surgery, as her voice had gicen out. Instead, she only let out high pitched strained wheezes, which amused him further. Her blood slicked his hands, and the hot wet of it soothed him. He cauterized her woulds, applied a liberal amount of FluffGel and banadged her up. There, perfect. He picked her up and set her on her side in the bathtub, where she heaved in silent broken sobs. Coffee watched everything in stark horror. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. The way that mummah’s eyes had bulged out in pain and fear, the way her spittle had flown out of her mouth at the force of her screams, the way her voice had cracked and broken at last. The smell of booboo juice clung to his nose and made him sick, and he couldn’t help but throw up the illicit milk. Mummah’s leggies flailed in vain, and aside from that little tilt in his mouth, Daddy had remained impassive through it all. Brun wiped down the counter with a medi-wipe and cleaning fluid until once again it gleamed white under the florescent bulbs. He didn’t touch or even look at Coffee, except to move him to wipe up the milky vomit. Once everything was clean, that was when Daddy finally turned his face to him.
Coffee shook, tears streaming down his face. “Coffee sowwy, Daddy! Pwomise be Gud Fwuffy!” Brun considered. He had no more ire, and he had removed the source of the problem. Still, discipline must be had. He would let the small foal off with a warning. He picked the colt up, who let out a terrified whimper. But Daddy didn’t hurt him. Instead, he brought the small colt into his nestie. Brun opened one of his sock drawers, removing any socks and dropped Coffee in without a word, closing it and plunging him into darkness. Coffee was traumatized. He shook so hard he nearly toppled over when Daddy put him in the sorry-box, and images of his mother’s mutilation danced in front of his eyes. He wept piteously, not even afraid of the monsters in the dark.
Brun returned to the bathroom, picking Stormy up carefully and returning her to the pen in the living room. Grape and Leaf both cried and hugged their mummah, relieved that she hadn’t gone forever-sleepies. Only Brownie turned his eyes towards Daddy. “Daddy? Whewe am Cawfee?” Brun grunted. “Sorry box.” Brownie fell quiet. “Oh.” A pause. “No wose pawts?” Brun grunted again. “Not this time. Your mother lied to Daddy, so she got the punishment.” Brownie thought very hard about that. A small darkness took root inside of him. He had lost parts. Mummah had lost parts. Coffee did not lose parts. Brun sat on his couch and watched his fluffies.
The Ballad of Stormy, Part 16
Coffee didn’t know how long he had been in the sorry-box. It felt like many forevers. All he could do is huddle and shake as horrifying images of his mummah’s multilation played in front of his eyes over and over again. Mummah had lost parts- that meant she was a Bad Fluffy. But she was his mummah! And she gave him milkies… but she also told Daddy a lie? She had told Daddy that it was okay to drink the milkies, but then said that he had stolen the milkies? Coffee’s face was stained with tears. He wanted to badly to be out of the sorry-box. He needed to make sure his mummah hadn’t gone forever-sleepies. He wanted to see his brothers and sisters again. He wanted to be out of this dark place where all he could do was remember and remember and remember and
Stormy cried softly the entire day, but didn’t dare to ask where Coffee was, or when he’d be back. Leaf and Grape did everything they could to try to help their mummah feel better. They worked together to push her kibble dish to her, so she wouldn’t have to move and hurt herself. They even pushed the water dish over, and even though Grape had been soaked (“Huu huu! Wawas bad fow babbeh! Cowdies!”) they had still managed to get it within reach of her tongue. They hugged her, and sang off-note songs to her. Brownie was also cuddled up to mummah, but he didn’t try to help. For one, his own incision still hurt, and for another his little mind had been pre-occupied with the fact that Coffee hadn’t lost any parts at all. Mummah had lost parts. Brownie had lost parts. Why did Coffee only get the sorry-box? The unfairness of it confused Brownie. He knew Daddy was always right- of course he was! Daddies knew everything! But still, resentment towards Coffee festered within him. Maybe Coffee had tricked Daddy somehow? The little colt’s brow furrowed. If Coffee hadn’t tricked Daddy, then that meant that Daddy was wrong and that Brownie had lost his special lumps for nothing. So, with a small nod to himself, Brownie understood perfectly that Coffee had tricked Daddy. Of Course he had.
Brun left Coffee in the drawer until after dinner. Entering his bedroom, he could hear the soft, terrified sobbing of the traumatized foal. “Huuuu, pwease, am sowwy, am sowwy, wiww be gud, wiww be gud-SCREEEEEEEE!” Coffee let out a terrified wail when Brun had suddenly opened the drawer, toppling the little colt over. There was no shit, to Brun’s surprise. The foal must have been empty when he had been put in. He picked up Coffee in one giant hand. The tiny colt’s eyes were wide, watery, and bloodshot. He took in great heaving gulps of air between sniffles. “Are you going to be a Good Fluffy?” Coffee nodded so vigorously that he nearly fell over on Brun’s massive palm. “Wiww be gud! Wiww be gud! Pwomise!” Brun let out a grunt of approval and gave him a tiny pat with a finger. Coffee leaned into it heavily, desperate for any sort of reassurance. He hugged Daddy’s palm with his whole body as he was carried into the living room. He was set into the pen, and he immediately ran to Stormy, hugging her tightly. He wanted to be angry with mummah, he wanted to hate her… but she was his mummah, and she hadn’t gone forever-sleepies, and he had been so scared! He clung to her soft fur and wept hard, his tiny body jolting from the force of it. Leaf and Grape joined the fluffpile, hugging him and reassuring him that he was safe.
Stormy held Coffee close to her, kissing him and murmuring her apologies to him. “Mummah su sowwy, Cawfee! Mummah am bad mummah, am su sowwy fow heawt-huwties!” The little colt just sobbed harder. She was in terrible pain, but here she was needed. She sung softly to him, stroking his soft brown fur until at last he fell asleep, exhausted. Brun sat and watched. Brownie sat apart from the flurry of reassurance and compassion. He looked on with an expression that was as close to disgust as a fluffy was capable of. Coffee was being treated like he had lost a part, too! And he hadn’t! And here was mummah, hugging him and giving him kissies and singing to him, and mummah hadn’t hardly hugged him at all! The resentment towards Coffee grew and festered in the little unicorn’s heart. Softly, so softly that only Brun caught it, Brownie muttered. “Hatechu. Hatechu, Cawfee. Hatechu, mummah.”
Interesting. Brun’s face turned towards Brownie, who noticed Daddy’s eyes on him. At first, he felt a terrible thrill of fear run up his spine- had Daddy heard? Did that make him a Bad Fluffy? But Daddy didn’t have the wrinkle in his face- in fact, the corner of his mouth was tilted. Brownie painfully got to his feet and waddled over to the wall of the pen. “Daddy, can Bwownie hav upsies? Wuv Daddy, wan Daddy huggies…” Brun obliged, picking up the unicorn and setting him on his lap, using a single finger to stroke the soft fur of his back. Brownie relaxed into Daddy’s lap. At least Daddy loved him. And Brownie loved Daddy- and that meant he was a Good Fluffy. Brun looked down at the little brown unicorn, falling asleep on the vast expanse of his thigh. It gave him ideas that were somehow just as exciting as the hot wet slick on his hands.
Brownie and Stormy both healed up very well. Brun’s skills were plainly showcased in the flat smooth skin with minimal scarring that was the only sign that any surgery had happened at all. In time, Brownie’s fur would cover even that. Things returned to normal, or as normal as it ever got. Brun had declined the neutering appointments when Stacy had called him. “Friend of mine breed ‘em. Did it for free.” Stacy’s surprised “Oh, well, did you want to set up a check up for-” was cut off when Brun simply hung up. He no longer needed Dr Fulcrum. He watched the fluffies with more interest. In fact, he hardly even turned on the 24/7 crime channel any more. Instead, he watched with growing interest at the developing family dynamics within the small world of the pen. Coffee had been completely cowed by his time in the sorry-box. He trembled like a chihuahua, often jumping at small noises. He often awoke from sleep with a gasp and a jerk as nightmares plagued him. He tried to find comfort in the places he used to- his mummah was always happy to hug him, of course, but Brownie no longer wanted to. Coffee didn’t understand. Brownie had always been the closest to him out of all his siblings, and now suddenly he was ignoring him!
Brownie was giving Coffee the silent treatment. He didn’t want to play with Coffee, or hug him, or listen to him whine about how scary the sorry-box had been. What did he care? How could a box compare to the loss of his lumps? He hated Coffee. He looked stupid, and he was a cry baby. Every time Coffee tried to play with him or hug him, Brownie would either leave or pretend he couldn’t see or hear his brother. He played just fine with Leaf and Grape, because he held no animosity towards them. He made a point to hug Grape and pet her mane in the way she liked at Coffee looked on sadly. (“Huuu! Why bwuddah nu wuv Cawfee?”) He played tag with Leaf as much as he wanted, even though it wasn’t Brownie’s favorite game.
Leaf and Grape were oblivious. They were just happy that everyone was safe and sound back in the pen, and that no one had hurties. Most importantly, Daddy was happy. Coffee did cry a lot more, but that was okay. Leaf liked taking care of other fluffies- it gave him heart happies and distracted him from his own saddies. As long as he kept helping, he wouldn’t have to think about it. Grape was just a standard happy little filly. She loved her home, she loved her mummah and her family, she loved Daddy most of all, and she was safe. Sometimes scary things did happen, but they didn’t happen to her, so they weren’t really real. She liked to help just because that was what Good Fluffies do! Mummah had said so! Mummah taught her all kinds of things- she taught them their pleases and thank yous, to always smile at Daddy and give him huggies when he asked, to always make good poopies…
She also taught them other things, when Daddy was at work, or asleep. She would tell them: “Nevew wepeat what mummah tewws yu, otay? It am speciaw secwet supwise!” And then she would teach them how to push things around, like how they had done with the food and water dishes, so they could roll her around. She taught them to look at the pen, and see where it opened, and to notice if it was really closed or not. She taught them to look and listen out for Daddy, and she even taught them little series of stomps to do when Daddy was coming. It was only a matter of time.