The Ballad of Stormy Part 9
Stormy ate the grass slowly. She was lethargic, dehydrated, and depressed. Her babbehs had left her for being a bad mummah, and now she had tummy-babbehs and no way to care for them. Her nono places still hurt terribly, too. She sighed, sitting down with a heavy plop. In desperation, she called out in vain, her voice hoarse and croaking. “M-mommy! Daddeh! Pwease hewp Stowmy! Stowmy sowwy fow be bad fwuffy! Stowmy sowwy fow be bad mummah! Pwease wet Stowmy go fwom sowwy-twee!” She waited. The only sounds were the gentle breeze in the trees and birdsong. Stormy began to sob, but looked up hopefully when she heard the rustling of grass behind her- it worked! It worked! Mommy had come back! She turned, a big smile on her face. Oh, no. It was Blackberry, the fluffy that had given her the bad special huggies! And he had two other stallions with him! They looked at her hungrily, their nono sticks hard. “See? Bwackbewwy towd yu dummehs dat dewe was enfie mawe hewe!” Stormy backed up, placing her nono places against the trunk of the tree. “Go ‘way! Nu wan specaiw huggies fwom bad nu smeww-pwetty dummehs!” She puffed up her cheeks, and the stallions charged. One grabbed the rope, and she pulled, desperate to escape, gagging and choking.
But in his excitement to finally get to enf a mare, the big red stallion bit clean through the rope. Stormy didn’t understand why there was suddenly slack, but instinct took over and she ran. She ducked between Blackberry and the other two stallions, her smaller size and malnutrition making it easy for her to slip past. They tried to grab her, but only succeeded in bonking their heads together with a comically hollow noise. She ran as fast as she could, away from the sorry tree, away from the horrible monster fluffies, away from the bad memories. She could hear the stallions chasing her, but she had speed and desperation on her side. She ducked and weaved through the trees, ducking under bramble bushes and through narrow spaces where their larger bodies couldn’t. Finally, she couldn’t hear them behind her any more. She collapsed onto her side, gasping desperately for air- the rope had snapped when the stallion had bitten through it, but the loop around her neck was fully embedded and it made it harder for her to catch her breath. Slowly, stars dancing in her eyes from lack of oxygen, she calmed down.
She was lying beside the black ground where the scary metal monsters went by. She didn’t know how far she had run, or in what direction. She couldn’t see the sorry tree anymore, and the embankment she was on was different than the one by the tree. She coughed again both from the rope and the horrible thirst. She had to find water. She struggled to her feet and began to walk. She decided to cross the black ground, as she could see lights glittering in the distance as the sun began to sink below the horizon. Lights meant humans, and humans meant she could find Mommy. She crossed slowly, her hoofsies dragging from exhaustion and exertion. She didn’t see the car until it was too late. Pain bloomed across her back legs and she shrieked. The car stopped, and the door opened. A huge blonde man heaved himself out of the car, walking over to where she lay broken on the blacktop, choking on her own scream. Her back legs were toast- obviously broken, they lay at sickening angles to her soft little body- they twitched and moved. He hadn’t broken her spine. He calmly, quietly opened the backseat of his car and took out a cardboard box. He picked her up carelessly, seemingly unphased by her shrill, ear-piercing shrieks, and set her in the back seat. Then he got in the car, put on his seatbelt, readjusted his mirrors and began to drive again.
Stormy’s whole world was abject pain. The boneshards in her leg ground against each other in excruciating torment, and she screamed until her voice finally cracked and gave out, only pained wheezing coming out. She rubbed her tummy subconsciously for comfort. She could feel the little lives inside of her furiously kicking. She took small comfort in that- even now, she still believed that babbehs did make things better. She knew she had been a bad fluffy and a bad mummah, but she still loved her babbehs. She promised herself that she would do better this time, if only her hurties would go away. Eventually, the pain became too much and she passed out, finally granted blessed oblivion, if only for a moment.
“Yeah, just fix her.” Brun was a man of very few words. He towered above the receptionist’s desk, and she just nodded and set to work checking in the little fluffy. What a shame- she was such an adorable little mare! She had beautiful markings, and unlike the fat pig-horse proportions of most fluffies, she was delicate and well-formed. Stacy, the receptionist, secretly hoped the man was just going to drop off the fluffy and she could take her home if she survived. Stacy loved fluffies- she had had many over the years, each well taken care of and loved. Her most recent fluffy had recently passed due to old age, and his passing hurt her deeply. “Is this a surrender or…?” The man shook his head, and Stacy hid her disappointment behind a well-practiced customer-service smile. “Well, no guarantees, you know how fragile they are- but Dr Fulcrum is a great vet, so if anyone can save the poor little thing, it’s her.”
Stormy woke slowly. It was hard, like trying to swim through soup. Her eyes were so heavy and she was still so sleepy. Eventually, her eyes did manage to crack open, and she blinked the gunk away blearily. She didn’t know where she was! The last thing she remembered was running from the bad fluffies, and then there had been pain. She tried to move, and was relieved that she could. She was wrapped up in a nice, soft pink blanket in a strange box that wasn’t a sorry box. She heaved a little sigh of relief. She was alive. “Oh, you’re awake!” Stacy looked into the recovery cage where Stormy was resting. She’d taken a moment before she went home for the day to come back and check on the little grey mare. She was still extremely bummed out that the man had said that he was taking the sweet little thing home, but at least she could give the poor little thing some much-needed moral support after such a terrible experience. Especially since it didn’t seem as though the little mare had realized that her back legs were gone. Stormy’s blue eyes slowly focused on Stacy. “Oh, hewwo, nice wady! Whu happen tu Stowmy? Hav wowstest huwties.”
Stacy reached through the gaps in the cage and gently scratched Stormy behind the ear. Stormy leaned into it hard, like she’d been starved for attention and affection for a very long time. Poor little thing. Stacy hoped that the man that had brought her in was a hugboxer, too. She couldn’t stand the thought of this sweet, polite little fluffy being abused. “You got big ouchies from a car, but a nice mister brought you in and we kept you from going forever sleepies. Your babies are fine, too.” Stacy automatically adopted fluffy speak- a side effect of the job. Stormy gasped and big, fat tears of gratitude rolled down her cheeks. “Fank yu! Fank yu fow sav babbehs!” She sniffled, looking up hopefully. “Nice mistew? Daddeh?” Stacy hesitated- “Uh, yeah, I suppose.” Stormy’s relief was writ large on her face. Daddeh had found her, and he was taking her home! Mommy had realized that she had learned her lesson! “Stowmy hav biggest happies! Hav saddies fow many fowevews.” Stacy’s heart broke. “It’s okay now, sweetheart. You’re going to be okay now.” Stormy leaned against Stacy’s hand. “Fank yu nice wady.”
Just then, the vet assistant came in, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, Stacy, but now that she’s awake, it’s time for her to go home.” Stacy smiled sadly, wiping away a stray tear. “That’s alright- hang in there, Stormy.” Stacy hadn’t been able to break the bad news about her legs to her, but she figured the vet assistant or her “daddy” would handle that now. She sent up a silent prayer for the fluffy’s protection, then clocked out and went home.
The man in the lobby was NOT Daddeh. He was very tall, and very big, and very scary. He stood silently, looming over the vet assistant who nervously handed him the carrier that contained Stormy. “Uh, have a good day, sir.” Brun grunted and left without a further word. “U-um, hewwo, nice mistew!” Stormy piped up from the carrier as he loaded her into the passenger seat. “Awe yu takin Stowmy tu Mommy and Daddeh?” Brun grunted. “I’m your daddy now.” Stormy blinked. “Nyu daddeh?” Brun nodded. “Oh. Otay! Fank yu fow sav Stowmy!” Brun said nothing. He simply started the car. Stormy clenched her poopy-place, desperate not to make scaredy poopies in the car and get tied to another sorry-tree. Brun drove silently. Stormy, too, was quiet. Her new daddy made her very nervous. He was very big and very quiet, but not in the same way that her babbeh Cloudy had been big and quiet. But he’d also saved her from forever sleepies, so he must be nice, right? She wiggled around, trying to get comfortable in the carrier. Her backside felt funny. She curled around, trying to see what was wrong with her leggies. She rolled this way and that, rolled onto her back and pulled her butt up- she still couldn’t see her leggies! Her tummy babbehs weren’t that big yet! “Daddeh,” she asked, “Why nu can see weggies?”
“Because your legs are gone.”
Stormy screamed.
The Ballad of Stormy Part 10
Stormy watched her new daddeh. Brun was sitting on the couch, watching her. He had brought her in from the car after she had finished screaming herself hoarse and crying over her leggies, and set her in a little pen in the living room that would function as her safe room. It was very plain- a simple baby gate, a dog bed, a litterbox, and a single ball. He hadn’t said anything since he had told her about her leggies, and he hardly ever blinked. Daddeh scared her in a way she didn’t understand. They had been sitting in silence for quite a few forevers before he finally spoke. “Here are the rules. Shit in the litterbox, eat your kibble, and most importantly, you have to Love Daddy.” Stormy nodded slowly. She glanced over at her litterbox- it was a shallow pan of dirt with a small ramp specifically made for “huggy fluffies” (fluffies with their back legs removed). Her new saferoom was nothing like the Fluffmart or her old saferoom, but it was much, much better than the sorry-tree. She looked back at Daddy. “Yus Daddy. Wiww be gud fwuffy.” Brun nodded. “Yes. You will.” He picked up the vet’s report from the coffe table in front of him. She had been severely emaciated, dehydrated, a rope had been embedded in her neck, and her legs had been shattered when he’d hit her with his car. Miraculously, against all odds, she had survived- and not only that, she hadn’t lost her foals. She had five foals, and was still early in her pregnancy.
Suddenly, he stood and left the room without a word, leaving Stormy alone. Stormy blinked in the direction her Daddy had left in, and she was left with her thoughts. She thought sadly about her old babbehs- she wondered if they were okay, if they were safe. She knew now that she had been a Bad Fluffy and a Bad Mummah. She hadn’t kept her fillies safe, and she had given Trouble the worstest steppies. She cried softly to herself, afraid to make too much noise. She missed Cloudy most of all- her bestest babbeh, the one that looked just like her, so big and strong. The image of him carrying his brother, covered in blood and telling her that he hated her haunted her. She didn’t mean for any of that to happen! She had just wanted to surprise her Mommy with babbehs. She rubbed her tummy, feeling the small lives inside of her. She had to make SURE that Daddy knew she was a soon-mummah this time. She wouldn’t get the sorry-tree again. The thought of being put under the sorry-tree scared her so badly that she needed to make poopies, and she hurriedly began to drag herself to the litterbox. The carpet rubbed against her teats and belly, hurting her. She dragged herself forward anyway, panic consuming her as she began to feel her poopy-place loosen. She barely made it. She trembled with relief and exertion as she made good poopies. The litter also dug into her sensitive skin, and she let out a little “huuu huuu”, but didn’t complain when Daddy came back into the room.
Stormy dragged herself from the litterbox to the wall of the pen. “Daddy?” She said, warily, “Daddy? Stowmy is soon-mummah!” Brun looked at her, face impassive. “I know.” Stormy blinked. “Oh. S-stowmy jus’… jus wan make suwe dat Daddy knu.” Brun grunted, unreadable. He sat down and turned on the TV, but didn’t watch it. He just watched her. Stormy nerously batted the old dog ball and smiled at him. “Fank yu fow nice toysie, Daddy!” Brun said nothing. Stormy continued about her business like that for many forevers. She ate her kibble, (“Fank yu fow nice kibbwes, Daddy.”) and made more good poopies. She batted the ball some more- all under the impassive gaze of Brun. Finally, if only to feel less awkward, she turned to look at the TV. It wasn’t FluffTV, which made her sad, but she didn’t dare ask to change it. She didn’t notice Daddy was behind her until she heard the pen gate open. She looked over her shoulder, struggling to turn. “H-hewwo, Daddy,” she nervously peepd. Brun crouched outside of the pen and held his hands out to her. She dragged herself towards him. “Daddy wan huggies?” She reached him and looked up at him, and he grabbed her around the middle and lifted her with no warning, causing her to let out a small fearful noise. Brun flicked her roughly on the nose and she winced. “Owies!” Brun looked at her, expressionless save for a small wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Good Fluffies Love Daddy. They don’t get scared when he picks them up.” Stormy swallowed, hard. “Y-yus Daddy. Stowmy sowwy, was supwised is aww.” Brun stared, and she tried very hard not to tremble. But eventually, the wrinkle smoothed and he nodded. He held her to his chest, and she hugged him as hard as she could. She could do nothing else.
The days passed, and they settled into their own strange little routines. Brun hardly ever spoke, and for such a giant of a man he was oddly silent when he moved. Stormy lived in a constant state of vigilance- she always had to be ready to smile at Daddy, or give him huggies. Good Fluffies Loved Daddy. When Daddy went to work, Stormy was alone. Brun didn’t leave the TV on, and he never got her more toys than the single old dog ball. Still, she had her tummy-babbehs. She sung to them, talked to them, filled the house with her happy babbling. She was slowly growing bigger and bigger, and it was getting harder and harder for her to move. Unlike her first pregnancy, Stormy had enough kibble to properly sustain herself, and was beginning to turn into the immobile blob that fluffy mares turned into during the latter stages. It made her happy- she was doing a good job this time! She would have enough milkies for ALL of her babbehs, and she promised herself that she wouldn’t have a Bestest Babbeh this time. She was going to turn over a new leaf, and be a Good Mummah.
Brun had left for work that morning after refilling her kibble and water. She munched happily, wondering what her babbehs would look like. She hated Blackberry for giving her bad special-huggies, but she hoped her babbehs would be pretty anyway. Her belly gurgled, signaling that it was time to make poopies. She struggled to turn around, straining her little legs against the carpet and shoving hard to move her bulky body around. She panted- this would have been so much easier with back leggies! She missed her leggies very much. She pulled herself forward, clenching her poopy place as hard as she could as she hurried towards the little ramp. She got about halfway up before her poopy-place betrayed her and she made BAD POOPIES on the ramp. She immediately panicked. SHE WAS A BAD FLUFFY AGAIN!!! Soon Daddy would be home, and if he saw the poopies, she would be tied to the sorry-tree again! She began to weep pathetically, desperately trying to turn around on the ramp- if she could num the poopies before Daddy saw, then she would be okay! She mis-stepped, and toppled off the side of the ramp, wedging her between the dog bed and the litterbox. She was stuck. If she had had her back leggies, she could have easily pushed herself forward and out of the small space, but her front leggies weren’t strong enough on their own. To make matters worse, she was just out of range of the bad poopies. They taunted her, sitting in the middle of the ramp, a tribute to how bad of a fluffy she was. She strained, pulled, cried and pleaded. “Pwease, weggies! Pwease puww Stowmy outies! Wiww be in wowstest twoubwe if Daddy sees!” She strained her neck, her tongue out, trying to reach the poopies to num them. It was no use. Between her swollen, pregnant belly and her weak legs, she was doomed.
Author’s notes: Finally, Brun arrives on the scene. Thank y’all for all the kind comments as always, and I hope you enjoyed this. I’ll be posting the side stories soon, but I re-wrote the Stormy stories before them, so they’re still rough. Still, no worries! Trouble, Cloudy, Snowflake, Sunshine and Snowball will show up again!