Author’s notes: Hooo boy are we in it now.
The Ballad of Stormy Part 13
Stormy lay awake, staring up at the ceiling. Tears rolled down her cheeks and stained her soft fur. Her beautiful babbeh, gone. She hadn’t even gotten to name her yet. She snuggled around her remaining babbehs, and wondered if she dared to name them before Daddy did. Would it make him angry? It was dark-time, and that meant she needed to be quiet so that Daddy could sleep. Her cheeks hurt from the constant forced smile she wore while Daddy was awake. She nuzzled her little babbehs- they weren’t pretty colors, like her bestest babbeh had been. Or Cloudy, or Snowflake, or Trouble. She ached deep within herself, and she wished her babbehs were bigger already so they could really hug her back and fix her heart-hurties. She loved them, and she couldn’t bear the thought of Daddy giving away another of her precious foals. Stacy-lady at the vet was a very nice lady, but she couldn’t give her babbeh milkies! She wept silently. Her poor babbeh must have the worstest tummy-hurties right now! She gently prodded her foals. Most slept on, but the little brown pointy babbeh peeped when she nudged him with a hoof. She picked him up and set him on a teat, where he immediately latched and drank. She prodded her babbehs again, until finally, nudged awake, the little purple filly peeped sleepily. She, too, was placed on a teat. Her pointy-brown babbeh detached, having already been fairly full before he’d been woken. Stormy whispered to him- “Dwink miwkies, babbeh! Nee’ make suwe yu hav enuf miwkies!” She held him to the teat, but he simply wriggled and didn’t latch again. He didn’t understand- he loved milkies, but he was full! He just wanted to go back to sleep in mummah’s warm fluff.
Brun came out of the shower, dressed, and entered his living room. There was no customary happy babbling or singing this morning. Stormy lay fast asleep, her foals positively gorged with milk and sleeping away just as heavily on her. He quietly refilled her kibble and water, turned on the TV, and sat down to watch his fluffies until it was time for work. Stormy jolted awake slightly when the TV came on, and blinked blearily. Her blue eyes focused slowly on Brun, and immediately any traces of fatigue left her. A rush of adrenaline hit her and a shaky, strained smile spread across her face. “H-hewwo Daddy! Gud bwite-time!” Brun grunted. Stormy shifted nervously in the pen, trying to roll without harming her babbehs. She wished so much that she still had her back leggies. She managed at last to maneuver her foals into their own little fluffpile, and then she prepared to drag herself to her kibble. The carpet always chaffed her, but against her sensitive teats it was torture. She grinned nevertheless, straining until she was finally within range. “Fank yu fow kibbwes, Daddy! Stowmy wuv nummies!” Brun grunted.
Stormy chewed slowly, and drank. She turned, ready to make milkies for her babbehs. Suddenly, an all-to-familiar smell suddenly hit her, and her eyes went wide in panic. Her little green babbeh had done a BAD POOPY on the carpet! She looked up at Brun, hoping desperately that he was actually watching the TV for once. He wasn’t. His eyes were trained on the small pile of milky shit on the floor, and the tiny wrinkle in his forehead appeared. Stormy panicked. “Wiww fix! Wiww num poopies! Wiww cwean up messie!” She dragged herself forward as fast as she could, not even noticing as the carpet chaffed her. She arrived at the poopies and began to gulp them down frantically, not even phased at the taste. She dragged her tongue through the rough fibers of the carpet, making sure not to leave even the tiniest bit of poopies anywhere. “See Daddy? Stormy fix messie, num poopies, nu mowe bad poopies, pwease-” Brun stood and Stormy cried out. “I’m not going to hurt your baby. But you’ve broken a Rule. Do you remember what that was?” His voice was low and level- it betrayed no emotion- if anything, he sounded vaguely bored. Stormy swallowed frantically around the taste in her mouth and froze. “S-stowmy… Stowmy woose weggy fow bad poopies.” Brun nodded, glancing at his phone. He was going to be late if he didn’t leave now. “That’s right. But Daddy needs to go to work, so you can keep your leg until I get home. I’ll even let you pick which one you lose.” Brun cleared his throat. It wasn’t like him to talk this much. The therapist must have been right about the fluffies helping him. Brun turned off the TV and left for the day, ignoring the sobbing fluffy behind him.
Stormy cried until she felt like she was going to throw up the poopies she had nummed. She looked down at her two remaining leggies. How was she supposed to decide which one? She needed BOTH her leggies to hug her babbehs! She picked them up in turn and hugged them (although she did wait to hug the green-poopy babbeh until last). This was the last day she was ever going to get to hug them.
Brun had calmed his ire while he was working. He’d been asked to provide his “medical services” to a man that had been very satisfying to work on. As he washed the blood from his hands and applied lotion to his dry skin, he thought about Stormy. She had eaten the shit immediately and without prompting, and that had pleased him. But Brun also realized the importance of discipline. He liked Stormy. For the most part, she followed the Rules, and he wanted to keep her around for longer than he had kept Lilac. He thought about it carefully as he cleaned his office, the familiar sharp smell of cleaning fluid and antiseptic soothing him. The noise in his head was quiet, and he decided that he would be lenient, just this once.
Stormy had hugged her babbehs all day, singing mummah-songs until her voice gave out, and then she just wept. She still hadn’t managed to decide which leggy to let Daddy take. She had only stopped hugging her babbehs long enough to take them and hold them over the litterbox, terrified of losing her other leg, too. She had licked them clean when she heard the quiet click of the door. Daddy was home. She looked up at him with big, bloodshot eyes as he entered. The smile she wore hurt her more today than most days. “H-hewwo Daddy, wewwcome home!” She hoped, secretly, that maybe Daddy had forgotten about the bad poopies from that morning. But Brun didn’t shower like he normally did when he came home. Instead, he opened the gate and crouched over her. She shook. “Did you decide which leg?” Brun asked, as though he was asking her about the weather. She shook her head slowly and took in a heaving breath. Her little hoarse voice was barely audible. “Nu, Stowmy nu can choose.” He shook his headm and she wept louder. He touched her right leg, then her left. In as close to a sing-song voiec as he could manage, he said “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…” the corner of his mouth twitched up just a little bit as Stormy’s sobs became desperate gasps, “catch a fluffy by the toe…” finally, his hand landed on her right leg, and he nodded.
Stormy bowed her head. It was time, and there was no escape. But Daddy did let go of her leg. She looked up confused in time to see Daddy pick up the green babbeh that had made the bad poopies. He held the tiny, fragile life in his giant hand, and he carefully took the right front leg of the tiny colt between his fingers. “What Daddy doin wif babbeh?” Stormy asked nervously. Brun pinched his fingers together and obliterated the leg effortlessly. The babbeh flailed and peeped in distress, writhing around on Brun’s palm and trying to escape whatever unseen thing had hurt him. He cried out pitifully for his mummah. Stormy screamed- or tried to. Her voice was so far gone by that point that the only thing that came out was a strained wheeze. Brun took an alcohol swab out of his breast pocket, opened it with a practiced movement, and wiped the swab across the bloody stump where the foal’s leg had been. The stinging antiseptic caused the little colt to writhe even harder, chirping shrilly. Where was his mummah? He had hurties! There was a monster hurting him!
Brun carefully placed the little colt in front of Stormy, who picked the pitiful squirming thing up and hugged him. Snot and tears matted the fur of her face and her body felt shaky, sick and empty with grief and shock. “You know the rules. Don’t let it happen again.”
Brun showered after disciplining his fluffies. He felt positively languid now, or as close as he got to it. The corner of his mouth was still quirked up the tiniest amount. He would have to thank the old therapist and perhaps even his mother when he got the chance. He would have never thought of getting a fluffy. His mother had never allowed him pets ever since he was a small child and had his “incidents”. He shaved and brushed his teeth. The noise in his head was nearly gone, and he very nearly hummed as he set about making dinner.
Stormy, meanwhile, was comforting her little green babbeh. She was giving him huggies, trying desperately to fix his hurties. Daddy had said he wasn’t going to hurt the babbehs, but he had also let her keep her leggies. She didn’t dare hate Daddy, because Good Fluffies Loved Daddy, but she was terrified of him. She looked out the doorway of the living room and into the kitchen, where she could hear the quiet sounds of Daddy making his nummies. She knew that was was Outside. She thought very hard if there was a way to escape. She dreamt often of running away, of finding her old babbehs and telling them how sorry she was, and that she was a Good Mummah now, and that she would never hurt them again. She would introduce them to her new babbehs, and they would all be safe and happy away from scary Daddy. The thought filled her with determination, and she was about to go to the pen wall to look for a way out when her sensitive, chaffed teats rubbed painfully against the carpet, reminding her that she had no back legs.
She heaved a great sigh. There was no way she was going to be able to take care of her babbehs without Daddy. She had no choice. She had to Love Daddy. She coo’d softly to the little foal, kissing him and singing to him, but he writhed and peeped, still in a great amount of pain. The wound itself was surprisingly clean- Brun had pulled the pulped leg completely free of the socket, and smeared the remaining skin over the wound with the swab. Thanks to the unnatural healing properties of fluffies, it was already beginning to heal. In a few days, the little colt would never even remember having that leg. Daddy entered the room, turning on the TV and taking his usual spot on the couch to watch them. Stormy’s smile was strained nearly to the breaking point. It looked closer to a grimace of terror than a true smile, but it was good enough for Brun. Stormy rocked the little colt. “D-daddy?” she asked, suddenly, with a wavering voice. Brun grunted. “D-du yu wan name babbehs? Babbehs need namesies…” The corner of Brun’s mouth twitched again. He opened the gate to the pen, crouching over them and looking at his fluffies.
Two brown colts- one earthie, one unicorn. One dark-purple filly. One green colt. He pointed at the plain brown earthie- “Coffee”. He pointed at the brown unicorn beside him- “Brownie”. He pointed to the purple filly. “Grape.” and he pointed at last to the little green colt, still peeping in pain. “Leaf.” Stormy’s smile became more genuine. “Fank yu fow nicest namesies, Daddy! Wuv namesies!” Brun grunted and gave her a single pat on the head. She was a Good Fluffy. Time would tell if her foals were, too.
The Ballad of Stormy Part 14
Eventually, things calmed again in the strange little family. Leaf’s leg scabbed over and then healed, leaving a smooth, shiny scar across the small hump of his shoulder. If the fur grew back, it would be like he never had a leg at all. The foals were all growing quickly- Stormy kept them completely gorged on milk, her thoughts always on her beautiful babbeh that Daddy had given away. It wasn’t long before their manes and tails came in- Coffee’s grew in a pale creamy beige that suited the deep coffee-brown of his fur. Brownie’s mane and tail came in as glossy and white as Stormy’s, and made him into a very handsome little colt indeed. Grape’s mane came in a pale lavender that fell prettily around her shoulders and set off the near black-purple of her coat. Leaf’s mane came in an even darker green, suiting his namesake perfectly. All in all, they were adorable even for “off-colors”, not that Brun really cared at all about that. For him, fluffies were fluffies. They were only a way to quiet the noise in his head.
Stormy loved her babbehs. They were poopy-colored babbehs, but they were hers and she loved them. She knew now that Good Fluffies and Good Mummahs loved all their babbehs equally. She was elated when the foals had opened their eyes and even moreso when they had gotten old enough to start speaking properly and she was no longer alone when Daddy went to work. They learned to make good poopies, and to smile at Daddy. When Daddy loaded them into the cardboard box that served as their carrier and loaded them into the passenger seat, she whispered to them hurriedly. “Babbehs, it am vewy, vewy im-pow-tan to awways be nicesies and nu make woud noises at doctow-pwace, otay? Pwomise mummah yu won-” she cut off as Brun opened the driver side door.
Stacy was working again when Brun entered the reception area. In her breast pocket napped the tiny silvery silly that had been Stormy’s bestest babbeh. She had also gotten bigger, and her mane had come in white, like Stormy’s. She slept peacefully, her tummy full on the finest donated fluffy-milk. She loved her mummah. Stacy hand-fed her every time she needed milkies, and carefully trained her, brushed her, and played with her. Freckles the unicorn was pampered, and as far as she was concerned, Stacy was her mummah. She didn’t remember Stormy at all.
Brun set the cardboard box on the counter as usual, and grunted when Stacy greeted him and thanked him profusely for giving her Freckles. Stormy was vibrating. She was perched up on her hind end as far as she could get, her hooves braced against the side of the box as her eyes fixated on Freckles. There she was- there she was. She knew it was her- of course she did. She looked like a tiny, more beautiful version of Stormy! She tried desperately not to cry, terrified of embarrassing Daddy. “H-hewwo nice Stacy w-wady!” She said, shakily. Stacy looked over at Stormy. “Hello again, Stormy! I see your foals are growing up nice and big!” Stormy nodded, sending a sideways glance at Brun. He had noticed her fixation immediately, and his expressionless face was turned towards her. A tiny string inside her trembled. Her tiny fluffy brain did an immense (by fluffy standards) calculation- was the chance of her getting back her babbeh worth Daddy’s anger? Eventually, she just swallowed thickly. “Hav b-biggest heawt happies dat yu am nyu mummah fow babbeh…” She wanted to say so much more. She wanted to plead for the nice Stacy lady to give her back her babbeh, to take one of her other babbehs instead, to take her with her, to take them all away from Daddy.
Instead, she carefully sat back down in the box, and Brun picked them up and carried them back to the vet’s office. “Good Fluffy, Stormy. Remember the rules.” Stormy nodded, choking back tears and putting on a watery smile. Of course. Of course. She was a Good Fluffy.
Dr Fulcrum entered the office and gave Brun a smile. “Good afternoon. I hope everyone’s doing well?” She washed her hands and put on gloves. Brun grunted. “Stormy stepped on one of her foals by accident. Lost the leg.” Dr Fulcrum’s eyebrow raised. She looked into the box, spotting the correct foal, picking him up gently and looking at the area. It had healed well, the skin smooth and taut over the remaining muscle, and there was even a few sparse areas of soft green fur growing back in. Leaf giggled as Dr Fulcrum ran a thumb over the stump. “Hewwo nice wady! Dat tickwe!” Dr Fulcrum smiled. Apart from the missing leg, the little foal was hearty- plump and well formed, and obviously free of any psychological stress. She could be a little more confident that it was as Brun said- an accident. She gave the little foal a scratch behind the ear. “Hello little one, what’s your name?” Leaf looked up at her with big, blue eyes. “Babbeh am Weaf!” She showed him the small, foal-friendly treat she had in her other hand. “Okay, Leaf. I need to get you some medicine so you don’t get sick, but it will hurt a little. If you’re brave, I’ll let you have this nummy, okay?”
Leaf nodded. He was scared of hurties, but the possibility of new nummies intrigued him. He waited patiently while Dr Fulcrum readied the syringe, and with a practiced moment, vaccinated him. He let out a little peep, but only cried a little bit. He sniffled, but smiled when she gave him the treat. “You did so good, Leaf! What a brave fluffy! Who’s next?” The foals in the box muttered amongst themselves, deciding. They were all afraid of hurties, but Leaf had gotten a nummy! They didn’t know what sort of nummy it was, but Leaf was happily chewing on it, so it must have been good! Eventually, Coffee put his little legs up in the “huggies” pose. “Pwease pick Cawfee, nice doctow-wady?” Brun was watching them carefully, and Stormy was worried. Please, she thought desperately, please let her babbehs be good, brave babbehs. Please let them not make Daddy mad. She kept careful watch for the tiny wrinkle on Daddy’s forehead. So far, so good. Dr Fulcrum reached in, picking Coffee up. “Coffee! What a good name for a brave little foal! Okay, ready?” Coffee squeezed his eyes shut, wrinkling up his nose and nodded. Dr Fulcrum gave him the shot, and Coffee didn’t even cry! She gave him a scratch behind the ears and a treat. “Great job, Coffee! What a good, brave boy!”
Stormy’s relief was palpable. Her babbehs were behaving, Dr Fulcrum even said they were being good- she looked up at Daddy, and indeed, not a wrinkle in sight. Two more babbehs to go- they were so close! Bolstered by Coffee’s bravery, the last foals both made the upsies pose. (“Pwease pick Gwape!”, “Bwownie be bestest bwavest babbeh!”) Dr Fulcrum picked up Grape first, who giggled and tried to hug Dr Fulcrum’s hand. “Fank yu fow pick Gwape!” Dr Fulcrum smiled as she gave her the shot. Another peep, another sniffle, another treat dispensed. “Good job, Grape! Alright, last one!”
Stormy was nearly shivering in gratitude. Her babbehs were doing well- there would be no lost leggies or babbehs today! Dr Fulcrum picked up Brownie, who puffed his little chest out in pride. “Am weady, nice doctow-wady! Bwownie be bwavest-” Dr Fulcrum gave him the shot. Brownie jumped, chirping in distress, nearly causing her to drop him. The fear of falling combined with the pain of the shot and he let out a small squirt of scaredy-poopies across Dr Fulcrum’s gloved hand. The wrinkle in Daddy’s forehead came out. Dr Fulcrum let out a sigh and clicked her tongue. “Well, that wasn’t very brave at all! I’m sorry, Brownie, but that means no treat for you.” She pulled a wet wipe from her labcoat and carefully wiped away the small amount of shit on Brownie’s ass, before placing him back in the box and disposing of the soiled gloves.
Stormy’s world was collapsing around her, and she couldn’t show it. Brownie had done BAD POOPIES on the doctor-lady, and he’d “embarrassed” Daddy! Stormy looked up at Brun’s face- he met her eyes. She wanted so badly to scream, to tell the doctor-lady that Daddy was going to do something terrible, but instead she just quietly apologized. “Stowmy am su sowwy fow babbeh makin bad poopies on yu!” Dr Fulcrum smiled at her. What a nice, polite fluffy! “It’s alright, Stormy. Babies aren’t very used to hurties, so it can be very scary for them. I’m not mad.” Stormy looked at Daddy, but the wrinkle was still there. Brownie cried softly and hugged his mummah. “Huuu! Scawies and owies!” He looked up at his mummah for reassurance, but she was looking at Daddy, not him. Her eyes were big and funny. She did hug him back, but absently.
“Alright, there will be one more round of shots after this,” Dr Fulcrum said as she washed her hands, “And you should get them fixed- they’ll be hitting puberty soon, no doubt.” Suddenly, the wrinkle between Daddy’s eyebrows went away, and that scared Stormy even more, somehow. “When should they be neutered?” Dr Fulcrum dried her hands and applied sanitizer and scent-free hypoallergenic lotion. “Well, the sooner we get it done the better. They’re growing very well, so it’s better to get it done before they realize what it is they’re losing.” Brun grunted. Dr. Fulcrum nodded, satisfied that he wasn’t going to leave them un-fixed. Nothing was worse than inbred fluffies. “Stacy will get you set up. It was nice seeing you again, Stormy, and do be careful not to step on any more of your babies, okay?”
Stormy’s smile faltered the tinest bit as that last casual sentence broke her heart. “Yus, doctow-wady.” Brun picked them up and left the room. Stormy was even more worried now- the wrinkle had gone away, but something about the way it had gone away made her very nervous. Brownie had broken TWO RULES. She held him close to her, and he snuggled gratefully into her fur. He was glad that mummah was finally comforting him. That had been scary! Grape, Leaf, and Coffee hugged him too, and they fell asleep as Daddy set them on the desk. Stormy watched Daddy. He was busy talking to Stacy-lady. She chanced a longing glance at the little silvery filly in Stacy’s pocket. She was growing into an even more perfect iteration of Stormy. Stormy’s cloud-grey fur looked dull next to Freckle’s silvery sheen, and her white splotches looked ill-placed and planned compared to the delicate patterns of Freckle’s spots. Her white hair looked dull and stringy next to the lush, silky platinum shine of Freckle’s hair. She loved her so much, and she wanted nothing more in the world than to hold her and tell her that. Stormy glanced back at Daddy- he was beginning to turn his face towards her again, so she tore her eyes away from her bestest babbeh. Her smile was shaky, and she hummed soft mummah-songs to her sleeping foals. When Daddy brought them out to the car, she began to tremble in earnest. Daddy got in the car and started it. Had he really forgotten? Could Daddy forget? Had the nice doctor-lady’s words saved them?
When they got home, Brun placed them all into the pen, and then looked up some videos and diagrams on fluffy anatomy. He was fascinated- fluffies seemed to be made to be easily taken apart, put together, modified… He went into the bathroom and began preparations. He retrieved his spare “tool bag” from his bedroom and sterilized them. He sprayed the bathroom counter with disinfectant and wiped it down. Satisfied, he returned to the living room. Stormy was looking up at him with her customary strained smile. “Hewwo D-daddy. Fank yu fow take babbehs tu nice doctow-pwace.” He ignored her, reaching into the pen and plucking the sleeping Brownie from the fluffpile. Stormy’s eyes went wide and frightened, but she didn’t say anything. Good. She was a Good Fluffy. Brownie stirred groggily as Daddy picked him up. “Wuv upsies!” he murmured sleepily. Daddy was picking him up! Daddy was paying attention to him! “Whewe we goin, Daddy?” he looked out excitedly from his position in the palm of Brun’s enormous hand. He’d never been outside the pen before except to go to the scary doctor-place! He looked around him with innocent curiosity. Daddy’s nestie always smelled nice and clean. Sometimes Daddy smelled sharp and funny like the doctor place, but he always came back smelling nice from this part of the house. He looked up at Brun’s impassive face. Daddy’s face didn’t work like other faces, but that was okay. Brownie loved Daddy more than anything!
Brun set Brownie on the counter. Brownie looked around excitedly, toddling here and there across the surface. “Daddy and Bwownie get cwean?” Brun grunted. “Something like that. Do you remember what you did at the vet’s?” Brownie thought for a moment, scrunching his nose. After a moment he looked regretful. “Bwownie made bad poopies?” Brun nodded. “You also embarrassed Daddy. Do you know what that means?” Brownie shook his head, looking sad. “Nu, Daddy.” Brun looked at the diagram he’d printed out of a simple fluffy neutering operation. They were readily available all over the internet. “It means you made Daddy feel sad and mad. When you didn’t behave for Dr Fulcrum, you hurt Daddy. Do you want to hurt Daddy?” Brownie’s face was the pinnacle of shame and regret. “Nu! Nu! Bwownie su sowwy! Nu mean to giv heawt huwties!” He’d hurt his Daddy! He was a terrible fluffy! He began to cry, feeling awful.
Brun looked at the quaking form of the little colt. He was obviously sorry. Brun’s ire calmed by the tiniest amount, and he was surprised. He hadn’t even started cutting yet, and already the noise in his head was subsiding. Fluffies really were theraputic. He felt a little more lenient. “Well, we can still fix my heart-hurties.” Brownie’s eyes went wide and his head shot up. He vibrated with eagerness- he could fix it! He could be a Good Fluffy again! “How fix heawt-huwties, Daddy?” Brun carefully picked up the small colt, and then positioned him belly-down against the counter, pressing gently on the tiny foal with a single finger. “I need you to stay like this for a moment.” Brownie held still, his face a mask of concentration as he did whatever he could to make Daddy feel better! Brun carefully measured and cut five strips of medical tape, securing the little colt in place with a strip across each leg, and a final across his middle. He then tied a bit of thread, tying his tail up and away from the surgical area. Then, finally, he cut a final bit of string, tying it around the colt’s tiny testicles. Brownie finally wiggled a bit at that. “Why Daddy touch speciaw wumps?” Brun patted the tiny fluffy with a finger. “You see, Brownie, your badness is in here. If you want to make sure never to hurt Daddy again, I need to take the badness out.”
Brownie didn’t understand. The tape felt funny and kept him from moving, and the thread around his tiny balls was beginning to ache. The most he could do was the tiniest wiggle. He looked up at Daddy. His special lumps were bad? They had started to hurt more. “Bwownie nu geddit, Daddy, but wiww du it fow fix Daddy’s heawt-huwties. Bwownie sowwy!” Brun gave the little colt a small scratch behind the ears, then picked up the gleaming razor-sharp scalpel from the counter. It was time to begin.
It had been a few forevers since Daddy had taken Brownie away to the sorry-water room. There were no noises yet, and that scared Stormy more than anything else. If she could hear her babbeh, that meant he was still alive and still here. He was a poopy-colored babbeh, but he was her poopy-colored babbeh! She had lost too many babbehs already, and all she wanted more than anything else was a happy family. Suddenly, a wail of pain split the air, and the small fluffpile in the living room erupted into cries of “SCAWIES!” and “NU WIKE WOUD NOISIE!” and “HUU HUU!” There were also several squirts of scaredy-poopies. Stormy immediately began cleaning, ignoring her babbeh’s pleas for reassurance and comfort. She had to num the bad poopies before Daddy got back, or it would be even worse.
Brun made a confident incision in the scrotum. Brownie screamed in pain, a long, unending shriek of agony. “SCREEEEEEEEEE! HUWTIES! WOWSTEST HUWTIES! PWEASE NU HUWTIES WUMPS!” Brun continued, following the diagram carefully as he fished out the miniscule testicles with a pair of fine nosed tweezers and slicing through the connective tissues. The shrill sound of pain drowned out the noise in his head, and tension drained from his broad shoulders. Brownie was in the worst pain he’d ever felt in his whole life. He could never even conceive of such an enormous pain existing in the gentle and safe universe he had existed in until now. He had been a Bad Fluffy, and now Daddy was removing the badness- was that why it hurt so much? He drew in a deep shuddering gasp, straining his throat as he gulped down air. Brun pulled the last stitch through the incision, leaving a smooth, flat area where the colt’s scrotum had once been. He applied the FluffGel and bandaged the area carefully, taking care to leave space for the foal to shit. He washed his tools and his hands, and then removed the tape holding Brownie down delicately. The little unicorn had finally stopped screaming, and instead was gasping in pain. Brun picked him up and placed him against the broad expanse of his muscled chest, and Brownie hugged him as hard as he could, his little legs shaking from pain and exertion. It was over now. He still had hurties, but Daddy had forgiven him, and taken out the badness, and he was a Good Fluffy again. He loved Daddy so much. “Bwownie sowwy fow embawwas Daddy!” Brun ran a finger down his back and carried him back out to the living room. “It’s okay now, Daddy forgives you.” Brownie shuddered harder from sheer relief.
The fluffies in the pen were huddled together, sobbing. He examined the carpet- not a single trace of shit. Either Stormy had eaten it or they’d used the litterbox. Either way, as long as he didn’t have to see or smell it. He gave Brownie back to Stormy, who immediately held him close and reassured him. Brun turned on the 24/7 True Crime channel. It had been a very relaxing day. For the first time in his life, Brun dozed off into a nap on the couch.
Stormy held Brownie, gently petting his soft, smooth fur. “Yu am Gud Fwuffy nao, yu am bwave fwuffy…” She whispered to the little colt. She glanced up at Daddy, expecting the usual impassive stare, and was surprised to find Daddy asleep. Daddy did not look any less scary when he was asleep. His face looked exactly the same, saved for his closed eyes. It was as though he were mid-blink. Sleep did not lend its softness to him. Nevertheless, it gave Stormy the freedom to care for her babbehs without worrying about Daddy. She fed them, and slowly they fell asleep, Brownie passing out from pain and exhaustion. He was sleeping belly-up on Stormy’s back to keep any of his siblings from jostling him and giving him hurties. Stormy felt sleepy too, now, as the adrenaline finally left her. She forced herself to stay awake. She looked around the living room, and out into the kitchen. She knew that way was Outside. She knew that it was only the pen gate and the front door keeping her and her babbehs from freedom. She wasn’t able to provide for her babbehs on her own- but maybe once they were big enough, they could save themselves?
Stormy began to plan.