“Yeah, just fix her.” Brun was a man of very few words, and he towered above the receptionist’s desk. She nodded nervously, 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 ferals, she was delicate and wellformed. Stacy, the receptionist, secretly hoped the man was simply dropping off the fluffy for surrender, and that she’d be able to take the little thing home if she wasn’t chipped. Stacy loved fluffies- she’d had many over the years, each well taken care of and well-loved. Her most recent fluffy had passed a year ago from old age, and her passing had hurt her deeply. “Is this a surrender or…?” The man shook his head- once to the left, once to the right, back to center. He hardly blinked as he watched her, and she shifted uncomfortably and hid her disappointment behind a well-practiced customer service smile. “Well, we’ll get her back to Dr. Redmond. If anyone can help her, it’s her.”
Later, Stormy woke slowly. It was so hard, like swimming through soup. Her eyelids were so heavy and it felt like her head was full of cotton, fuzzy and floaty. Slowly, she opened her eyes, blinking blearily for a few moments in confusion. She didn’t know where she was, but she wasn’t under the Sorry-Tree, so that was a good thing! She remembered about the bad fluffy, about her tummy babbehs- she rubbed her tummy anxiously, but felt the tiny lives still within her and let out a sigh of relief. Her babbehs were still inside of her and alive. She remembered running, and then there had been pain, and then there had been a lot of screaming, but she couldn’t remember anything else. She looked around- she was wrapped in a soft pink blanket, in a strange box that wasn’t a sorry box, but was like the check-up boxes at the FluffMart. “H-hewwo?” She called out nervously, and there was suddenly footsteps approaching, and a pretty lady was looking at her with a kind, soft smile. “Hello, sweetheart, looks like you’re awake!” Stacy peered into the recovery cage that Stormy was resting in. She’d taken a moment before heading home for the day to check on the little gray mare. She was still bummed out- they’d checked Stormy for a microchip, and while Karen had gotten her chipped, she’d cancelled it after her husband had gotten rid of Stormy. But, while that meant she was free to take, the man who brought her in got first dibs, legally speaking.
She reached in and gave the little mare a scritch under the chin, which she leaned into and coo’d, obviously touch-starved. She must have been lonely for so long- Dr. Redmond had carefully not told her the worst of the injuries, knowing Stacy’s soft heart and affection towards the little mare she’d just met, but Stacy had been working for Dr. Redmond ever since she’d graduated college and come home to take care of mother, and she knew what an embedded rope looked like. It had taken Dr. Redmond two hours for the surgeries the little mare had needed- both back legs had needed amputated, and then she’d had to deal with both the embedded rope and the ensuing infection- the poor little fluffy had also had the beginnings of flystrike on her rear that she hadn’t noticed, the maggots painlessly eating into her flank and ruining a portion of skin- she’d never have a tail again. But, Stacy thought, maybe that in itself was an odd sort of kindness from the universe- seeing as Stormy was a huggy fluffy now, she’d have a harder time keeping herself clean when she used the litterbox. She sighed, knowing that even if Brun hadn’t claimed the little mare, she couldn’t care for her herself. Mother had passed a few years ago, but she still wasn’t prepared to deal with the needs of a disabled fluffy. Maybe she’d adopt a new fluffy soon, though. “Whu happen tu Stowmy? Hav wowstest huwties.”
The fluffy’s question startled her out of her line of thought and Stacy gave her a look of sympathy. “You got biggest ouchies from a metal-monster, but a nice mister brought you in and we kept you and your babies from going forever sleepies.” Stacy fell easily into fluffspeak, translating complex concepts to the easy-to-understand terms that all fluffies knew. Stormy nuzzled Stacy’s hand thankfully, tearing up. “fank yu nicest wady, fow sav Stowmy and babbehs-” then she looked confused, and then hopeful. “Nice mistew? Nyu daddeh?” Stacy hesitated, but then nodded. Whether she liked it or not, she was Brun’s fluffy now. “Uh, yeah.” Stormy’s happiness and relief was writ large on her face- it wasn’t her Mommy, but if she had a new daddeh, then maybe everything was okay now? A new daddeh meant a safe room, and a safe room meant food and safety and warmth for her new babbehs. And she promised herself that she would do better this time- be better. Stormy smiled a big, relieved smile up at the nice lady. “Stowmy am su happies! Hav wowstest huwties and heawt-saddies fow many fowebews.” Stacy’s heart broke, and she quickly wiped away the tears before the little fluffy noticed. “Y-yeah. You’re… you’re going to be okay now.”
Just then, Randal, the vet tech, popped his head in, smiling apologetically. “Sorry Stacy, but now that she’s awake, we gotta get her ready to go home.” Stacy smiled sadly, sniffling. “That’s alright- hang in there Stormy.” Stacy hadn’t been able to bring herself to break the bad news to the little mare about her legs, but that was the Randal’s job, anyway. She sent up a silent prayer for the fluffy’s protection, and then clocked out and went home.
The man in the lobby did not look like a nice mister. He was very tall, and very big, and very scary. He stood silently, looming over Randal, who anxiously handed the large man the clear plastic container that contained Stormy. “Uh, have a good day, sir.” Brun grunted, then turned and left without another word. “U-um, hewwo, nice mistew?” He didn’t answer, merely opening the passenger side door, securing the carrier by slotting the seatbelt through the little hook made for that purpose, and then shutting the door with a snap that caused Stormy to jump- thankfully, due to the painkillers, she was slightly constipated and so no scaredy poopies came out. She began to tap her hooves nervously. This did not feel like getting a new daddeh. It felt scary, like when the bad man had come to take her from Mommy. Brun got into the driver’s side, carefully fastening his seatbelt before turning his head toward Stormy. His eyes very rarely moved- rather, he turned his whole head to look at her. It was unnerving and reminded her of a monster. “U-umm… Nice mistew am nyu daddeh?” Brun nodded. One up, one down, back to center. “That’s right.” His voice was low, but surprisingly smooth and pleasant, except that it made her shiver for some reason. “F-fank yu fow be nyu daddeh, and fow sav Stowmy and babbehs.” He looked at her for a moment and she tapped nervously, but then the corner of his mouth twitched upward, very slightly. It was the closest thing Brun ever got to a smile. He faced forward and started the car, and started the drive home.
Stormy watched her daddeh for a long moment, rubbing her tummy for emotional support as her tummy-babbehs kicked nervously. She tried to shift to get more comfortable, but her back leggies weren’t helping her for some reason. Randal had assumed that Stacy had told Stormy about her legs, and had neglected to make sure. Stormy hadn’t realized until just now that her leggies weren’t responding. “Um, Daddeh?” Brun grunted, and Stormy swallowed nervously. “Why an weggies nu wowkin?” Brun didn’t take his eyes off the road, studiously checking his mirrors now and then as they approached the gated community he called home. “You don’t have your back legs anymore. They’re gone.” Stormy’s eyes bugged out- her leggies were? She tried to look at her leggies, twisting this way and that, but she couldn’t. She began to sob. She didn’t dare to scream, because new daddeh scared her too much, but she sobbed quietly to herself about her leggies. She cried and cried and cried until they came to a stop, and then she hurriedly wiped her face as Daddeh turned his face to her. He picked up her carrier with one huge hand, and carried her inside his home. While it wasn’t as extravagant as some of the others in the community (Karen’s house was a McMansion most respects), it was well-made, well-maintained, and it was fully his. He took her through the kitchen and into the living room, where he took her from her carrier and set her into the small playpen he’d prepared while waiting to pick her up. It was nothing like her last safe room- a playpen meant for toddlers, which contained a litter box, a dog bed, and a small red rubber ball.
Daddeh hadn’t said anything since he’d told her about her leggies, and now he simply sat on the couch, staring at her. He very rarely blinked, and his gaze tickled the prey animal part of her brain. He scared her in a way she didn’t understand. They sat there for a few forevers, just staring at each other, before he finally spoke. “Here are the rules. I’m only going to say them once, so listen,” And Stormy did, sensing that it would be dangerous not to, “You shit in the litterbox,” Stormy flinched at the bad word but listened, “eat your kibble, and most importantly, you Love Daddy.” Stormy nodded slowly, glancing over at her litterbox- it was a special shallow one with a ramp that the nice “Doctow Wady” had given Daddy to help her adjust. It was specially made for “huggy fluffies”, and had gentle texture on the ramp itself to help with grip and traction. The dog bed was second hand and smelled funny, but it was soft. The rubber ball was the first toy she’d had since she’d been tied to the Sorry Tree. She looked back at Daddy (Brun’s self-referential name took hold in her programming). “Yus Daddy. Stowmy wiww be gud fwuffy fow Daddy.” Brun nodded. Up. Down. Center. “Yes, you will.” He picked up the vet’s report off the table in front of him. She’d been severely dehydrated, emaciated, and had a rope embedded deep in her neck, and her legs had shattered into nothing when he’d clipped her with his car. Miraculously, against all odds, she had survived- and not only that, she still had her foals. Five of them, from what the ultrasound could see, and she was still early in her pregnancy.
Suddenly, he stood, leaving her in the room alone without a word. Stormy blinked in the direction he’d left in, but didn’t call after him. She was thinking. She thought about her old babbehs, and how much she missed them, and how much she wished she could tell them she was sorry. She wondered if they were okay, if they were safe. She knew now, of course, that she’d been a Bad Fluffy and a Bad Mummah. She hadn’t kept her fillies safe, had hurt Trouble for no reason- she began to cry again, quietly, 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 away from her, calling her a monster and telling her she hated him rose before her eyes unbidden. She didn’t mean for any of this to happen! She had really tried to be a good fluffy! She rubbed her tummy again, and promised her babbehs she’d do better this time. She had to follow the rules, and Daddy would take care of her and her babbehs. Just then, she felt her poopy place rumble and she began to hurriedly drag herself to the litter box. The carpet rubbed against her stomach and breasts, hurting her, but she hurried still faster when she felt her butthole pucker. She barely made it, turning around and loosing the poopies that had been plugged up inside of her, letting out a little sigh. The litter also dug into her as she moved away from the box, and she let out sad little "huu huu"s, but she didn’t complain when Daddy came back into the room.
He sat and turned on the TV, but to her disappointment it wasn’t FluffTV. It was some human show that she couldn’t understand. When she turned back to look at him, he was watching her again. Stormy nervously kicked the ball against the pen wall so it bounced back to her. “Fank yu fow nice toysie, Daddy!” Brun said nothing, and Stormy swallowed thickly, but decided to continue about her business unless Daddy said something. She ate her kibble (“Fank yu fow nice kibbwes, Daddy.”), and made more good poopies. She batted the ball around some more, watched the TV and tried to understand what was going on- all under the steady, unwavering gaze of Brun. She was trying to figure out the TV, and didn’t realize Brun was behind her until she heard the pen gate open. She looked over her shoulder, struggling to turn around. “H-hewwo, Daddy.” Brun crouched at the edge of the pen, holding his hands out to her. “Daddy wan huggies?” She dragged herself slowly and painfully to him, trying to keep a smile on her face. He picked her up around the middle with his huge hands suddenly, and she couldn’t help but make a startled noise when he did. He flicked her suddenly and painfully on the nose. “Owies!” Brun looked at her, expressionless except for the tiniest wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Good Fluffies Love Daddy. They don’t get scared when Daddy picks them up.” Stormy nodded quickly. 'Y-yus Daddy, Stowmy sowwy, Stowmy jus soopwised is aww." Brun stared at her for a moment, and Stormy tried not to tremble. Eventually, however, the wrinkle went away and he held her to his chest. She hugged him as hard as she could- it was the only thing she could do.
Eventually, as the days passed, they began to settle into a routine. Brun hardly ever spoke, and for such a giant 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 dog ball, but it was safe, and warm, and she had kibbles and water, and 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 the first time she was pregnant, she was getting enough kibble to sustain herself, and she was slowly ballooning into the immobile blob that pregnant mares turned into late in their pregnancy. 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 she wouldn’t have a Bestest Babbeh this time. She would even love poopy babbehs. She would 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. She finished eating and her tummy rumbled in the way that it did when it was time to make good poopies. She struggled to turn around, her little legs scrabling for purchase against the carpet to haul her bulky body around. She panted- she really wished she still had her leggies! She pulled herself forward as fast as she could towards the little ramp, clenching the whole way. She got halfway up the ramp before her sphincter, weakened by pregnancy, gave up the ghost 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, he would tie her to the Sorry Tree for sure! She began to weep pathetically, desperately trying to turn around on the ramp- if she could num the poopies before Daddy got home, it would be okay! She mis-stepped, toppling off the side of the ramp and wedging herself tightly between the litterbox and dog-bed. She wriggled frantically, but it was no use- she was stuck. If she’d had her back legs, she would have had the needed leverage to free herself, but instead her front legs pawed frantically and uselessly against the carpet. To make matters worse, she was just out of range from the bad poopies. They taunted her, sitting in the middle of the ramp, a tribute to how bad a fluffy she was. She strained, pulled, cried and pleaded. “Pwease, weggies, pwease! Pwease puww Stowmy outies befow Daddy gets back! Wiww be wowstest twoubwe if Daddy sees!” She strained her neck, her tongue out as far as it could go, trying to reach the poopies to num them. It was no use- Between her swollen, pregnant belly and her weak legs, she was doomed.
A/N: bit of a short chapter this time, but the next part deserves its own entry.