When Brun came home, Stormy was still stuck in exactly the same position. Her face was completely matted with tears and snot, and she was still pathetically trying to heave herrotund body free of the tiny space. She was also muttering to herself and hadn’t heard him come in. “Pwease, weggies, pwease, c’mon, weggies!” Her ass was caked in more shit, as the hours had worn on and she’d been unable to hold it. Brun said nothing, and he walked with an uncannily quiet gait as he went to the hall closet and retrieved cleaning products and a bucket, setting them beside the pen. He went to the bathroom and filled the sink with a few inches of water- cold enough to hurt, but not enough to harm. Finally, he opened the pen, and at the movement Stormy’s head whipped around and she faced him, blue eyes wide. Her face was filled with the horrible recognition that she’d failed to save herself. She was once again a Bad Fluffy. “Stowmy sowwy! Stowmy sowwy! Pwease, Daddy, pwease! Stowmy’s weggies nu wowkies and nu puww tu wittew boxie an-” Brun said nothing, grabbing her roughly by the scruff of her neck and easily freeing her before slapping her across the face with one of his huge, meaty hands. Stormy let out a startled wail as her teeth clacked together and one came loose, filling her mouth with blood. Brun carried her to the bathroom as Stormy sobbed and worried about her fate.
Suddenly, she was dropped unceremoniously into the cool water and she gasped in shock, unable to even scream or sob. Brun poured dish soap on her ass, scrubbing roughly with a washcloth until the caked shit came free of her fur. He was brutally efficient, changing the water out halfway for new water and scrubbing again. Finally catching her breath, Stormy managed a weak, breathless “Cowd wawas bad fow tummeh-babbehs, Daddy.” Brun’s eyebrow raised at her, but he did pull her from the sink and dry her roughly with a towel before plopping her into the bathtub and returning to the living room to clean up her mess. He found an ancient textbook from his medical school days and placed it under the dog bed, raising it level with the edge of the litter box. He laid down a trash bag beneath it all just to catch anything that fell and returned to find Stormy shivering where he had left her, too afraid to move even an inch. He picked her up like he was going to give her huggies, but instead he just held her level with his face, his big, dark eyes watching her until she was forced into eye contact. Stormy’s little brain was on fire- the parts of her that were made up of the various traits of many prey animals screamed at her that she was in the grasp of some sort of predatory animal, that she was in danger, that she was going to die. She met Daddy’s big, dark, scary eyes with her watery blue ones, her face automatically assuming a rictus grin of fear- trying to salvage the situation with love. Daddy’s voice was so low already, and in the bathroom it thrummed in her chest like it was inside of her.
“What did Daddy say about shitting in the litter box?” Stormy winced at the bad word and swallowed thickly. “S-stowmy sowwy, nu mean tu make bad poopies…” Brun continued to stare at her until she finally squirmed, unable to hold still in the face of his impassable fury. “This is your last warning, Stormy. No more messes, no more breaking rules. From now on, every time you break a rule, I’m gonna cut off a leg.” Stormy’s eyes filled immediately with terrified tears, but she nodded. “Y-yus Daddy, wiww… wiww be Gud Fwuffy. Nu bweak wuwes. Wuv Daddy.” Brun held her for another excruciating moment, but nodded. Up, down, back to center. He carried her back to the pen, setting her in bed with her ass hanging over the litter box, and set her food and water bowl in front of her. She would have to strain her neck to reach, but she didn’t have to actually move from the bed any more. He filled her bowls, explained that she had to stay still to shit in the litter box, and then closed the gate pen behind him as he took his customary place on the couch. As he did every night, he turned on the TV but didn’t watch it, his dark eyes trained on Stormy. Stormy watched him back.
Each day, the same day repeated itself for Stormy. The only way she could keep time with the passing days was the slow and steady growth of her tummy. Every day, Daddy would wake up and go to the scary water room and come out smelling nice, and then he would turn on the lights and the TV before filling her bowls. He would go to the kitchen and make himself his own nummies, and then come back and stare at her for a while. Eventually, he would turn off the TV and give her three pats on her head before he left for work. She would smile at him the entire time, her cheeks aching. When Daddy had left and she heard the click of the front door behind him, she sang to her tummy babbehs. She was truly immobile now, but since Daddy had fixed her litter box, that was okay. She was terrified now more than ever of doing bad poopies, and while she hated the way the litterbox edge dug into her sensitive stumps, it was reassuring to know she was in the right place. She would eat and nap when she got too bored of staring at the couch or ran out of mummah songs to sing.
Eventually, the front door would quietly open and close, and Daddy would come in. He always smelled sharp and scary, but then he would go into the sorry water room and come out smelling nice again. He would make and eat his own dinner in the kitchen, and then he would come into the living room. He would give her three pats with one of his huge hands and refill her bowls. Then, he would sit on the couch and watch her eat until she was finished and made good poopies, then he would wipe her behind with a nice-smelling wipe and set her on the couch beside him while he watched the TV. He would slowly pet her with her giant hands, and for a while, Stormy wouldn’t be scared of Daddy. His hands felt nice, warm and smooth. She would tell him she loved him, and he would nod and tell her she was a Good Fluffy. She would babble on about her day to him and he would listen, his face unreadable. Eventually, he would put her back into her bed when she needed to make poopies or pee pees, and then after a little while he would turn off the TV and the lights and go to bed. After Daddy was asleep, the quiet sound of crying would fill the living room until Stormy fell asleep.
Today, though, was a Saturday, and that meant that it was Brun’s day off. He sat in the living room as he always did, the TV on its usual channel- the 24/7 True Crime network. It was only there for the noise. He liked it better than he liked most things, the droning monotone of the narrator desribing horrific crimes soothed him in a way so few things did. Brun didn’t watch the TV, and instead, watched his fluffy. She was telling him about how she was excited to teach her babbehs how to make good poopies and what colors were. He liked her. She was a Good Fluffy who followed the rules, and he had only had to warn her once. In a way, her babbling was soothing too. It was a bit like the TV, gently cushioning his ears and distracting him from the thousands of noises constantly around him, stabbing his brain with sound and making him unable to fucking think. He got lost in his thoughts as she continued in her breathy, childish little voice. His therapist- the one he’d been forced to go to at his mother’s insistance after his last “incident”- had suggested that he get a fluffy. The man himself had been very old, with white hair that floated around his head like dandelion fluff. He had been frail, and he had had the same sort of low soothing monotone voice that the TV had. “It will help you form healthy attachments to others, and help you practice compassion and empathy.” And so, after he had gotten off of work that day, he had gone to the local FluffMart- and had immediately found himself filled with the terrible noise in his head. The bright, obnoxious technicolor, the shrill cries of “NYU DADDEH?” and “PICK FWUFFY!” had hurt him, stabbing deep into his ears. He had simply turned and left- he didn’t need another “incident”. He had simply written the idea as bullshit, until he had heard a wet, pitiful coughing from behind a trash can. There, he had found a small purple pegasus with gummy eyes who looked up at him hopefully. “Pwease, nice mistew, can pwease open twashie can fow babbeh? Nee’ nummies, hav wowstest tummy huwties, but nu can push obew twashie.” Brun had simply picked him up, tucking him into the inside of his coat as he returned home. Lilac had been a very good fluffy for years until he had forgotten the most important rule: Good Fluffies Love Daddy.
Brun was suddenly brought back to the present when Stormy spasmed, her front legs kicking as she let out a pained gasp- “BIGGEST POOPIES! DADDY! HEWP! BABBEHS CONMIN!” He stood and grabbed the kit he’d placed nearby for this as Stormy wheezed with pain in her bed. He strode quickly to the kitchen, filling a small bowl with warm water and returning- she’d already foaled once by the time he’d gotten back. A coffee-brown earthie lay behind her, squirming and peeping. He picked it up and wiped off the slime and viscera of birth with a damp rag and set it on the towel to his side, where Stormy could see. The little foal peeped and squirmed, and Stormy’s face broke into a pained smile. “Oh, babbeh!” She jerked- “Daddy! Hewp!” Brun grunted, giving her a pat with his big, warm hand. He was with her. She loved him desperately in that moment. The next foal plopped into his waiting palm. He wiped it- another earthy, deep purple- and set it by the other. They immediately hugged each other for warmth with their tiny, useless nubby legs. Another plop, another foal. Another brown foal, but a unicorn this time, with white markings on its legs that looked like socks. Set beside the others, he snuggled up and peeped with the others. The next foal was a bland olive green earthy, and finally, just behind that one, the last foal came. A beautiful slate-gray unicorn with white dappling, just like Stormy. It was wiped and set with the rest.
Stormy panted, exhausted. She had done it. She had her babbehs. She tried to roll on her side- and Daddy’s big hand helped her, steadying her as she rolled to her side so she could finally feed her babbehs for the first time. Brun began to set the small pile of foals into the bed beside her, and Stormy looked at them closely for the first time. Two poopie babbehs, one green poopie babbeh, one babbeh that looked like Blackberry and… Stormy blinked. Oh. Oh, one that looked exactly like her, only more beautiful. She had little white freckles on her snout, and her dappling looked like a delicate lace doily. The light from the TV hit her fur and set purple-blue lights shimmering through the white parts of her fur. Her heart trembled- she wanted so badly to reach out and take that one and stomp the rest to death- unbidden the image of Trouble’s maimed leg and Cloudy’s face, filled with rage came before her. She could also feel Daddy’s eyes on her. She picked up the nearest poopie babbeh, and with a shaky smile at Daddy, placed the foal on a teat, making sure he latched before she selected the next nearest- the little green one. She only removed the foals once they had drank their fill- she had plenty of milk thanks to Daddy’s dilligent feeding- and she saved the prettiest babbeh for last. She was so, so beautiful. Brun finally nodded and stood, leaving to clean the soiled towels and water. Behind him, he could hear the shaky, exhausted voice of Stormy singing to her babbehs. “Mummah w-wuv babbehs, babbehs wuv mummah, dwink wots of miwkiws, gwow up big an’ stwong!”
The Day that Repeated had changed, and Stormy was much happier. She dragged herself slowly around the pen, working the atrophied muscles in her front leggies. She hummed happily to her babbehs when Daddy was at work, and told them the rules, and how to make good poopies. They were still too young to understand, but she told them anyway. It was important they learn as soon as they could. She hugged them all equally, and made sure they all got the same amount of milkies. She was careful to love ALL of her babbehs, even if they were poopie babbehs. She even loved the little filly that looked like Blackberry. Daddy had told her that Good Fluffies love their babbehs equally. She did spend a lot of time watching the little gray filly. She had heart hurties when she saw her, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. It felt like her insides were fighting, like there were many Stormies inside of her think-places. One wanted to do the mean, dark thing she had thought earlier- take the gray filly and stomp the rest to forever sleepies, but she knew that it was wrong and that Daddy would punish her. Another part of her wanted the little filly to go away- she reminded her very much of Cloudy, and she wished desperately that she could find Trouble and tell him she was sorry. She didn’t know how she could do that now- the pen was the only place she was allowed, and another of the little Stormies inside of her told her that was dangerous to try to ask Daddy to let her find her old babbehs. Another Stormy reminded her that she only had front leggies now, and that there was no way she’d be able to go look for her babbehs without her back leggies. Still, all the little Stormies agreed that the most important thing for now was to be a Good Fluffy. She was licking her babbehs clean- the little brown one with the sock like markings squirmed as she held him- when the front door made the tiny, quiet click it made before Daddy came in. Surely enough, Daddy came in, smelling sharp and scary, then went to shower.
Brun came in, showered, ate dinner, and fed Stormy before sitting on the couch and turning on the TV. He watched his fluffies, relaxing. Brun worked for people who needed other people either “persuaded” or otherwise disposed of. He was damn good at his job. He was smart, discreet, and most importantly, didn’t ask questions. He made more money than he knew what to do with, and he lived very frugally. His job leant him an outlet to the part of him that got so angry at everything and let him live his life as he saw fit. Brun didn’t experience joy the same way that other people did, but that was alright to him. He was satisfied with his life, and his joy came in other ways. He blinked as his phone rang- he answered the phone, even though it wasn’t the number of his usual contact. “Brun speaking.” The voice on the other end was a carefully-practiced and measured customer service voice. “This is Stacy, from the vet’s office? I’m just doing a follow up call for Stormy, to check to see if you needed further services?” Brun grunted, looking at the little squirming fluffies in the dog bed. “Yeah, sure. She gave birth.” Stacy’s voice showed real, actual emotion for the first time- “Oh! That’s great, congratulations! Yes, let me get you scheduled for a checkup for her and her foals-” she spoke faster and more than necessary, unnerved by the stillness on the line. “Yeah.” They found a day that worked, scheduled the appointment, and then Brun hung up on Stacy in the middle of her saying goodbye. He went back to looking at his fluffies.
Across town, Stacy shivered as she hung up the phone. The guy gave her the creeps. Something about him was off. He was definitely like, a serial killer or something. She shook her head- no, no. She was being mean and judgemental. Maybe he was just like, antisocial or something. He did bring in the little fluffy to get her fixed up after hitting her with his car, and he was bringing in the little foals. He couldn’t be all bad. Still, she wished that he’d just surrendered the little fluffy. Stacy still missed her old fluffy dearly, and the thought of Stormy curled up warm in her living room made her heart ache sweetly. Ah, well. A week later, when he showed up for his appointment, she kept her face in a steady, emotionless retail-smile. He didn’t surprise her this time, but it still unsettled her how quietly he moved for such a large man. He wasn’t using a carrier, opting to carry the little family in a cardboard box filled with towels. Stacy wanted very badly to immediately check on Stormy to make sure Brun hadn’t hurt her, but she had to remain professional. “Good morning! I’m glad the birth went well- let me get you checked in.” Brun grunted, and Stacy decided that counted enough for pleasantries. She looked over the edge of the box that Brun had set on the counter at Stormy and smiled. “Hello, Stormy! Do you remember me?” Stormy looked up at her, and a genuine smile broke across her round face. “Oh! Hewwo, nice wady! Stowmy wemembew yu! Wook! Stowmy hav babbehs!” Stacy chuckled. “I can see that! We’re gonna get you in to the doctor so she can make sure they’re healthy so they don’t get sickies, okay?”
Stormy nodded. “Yus! Daddy said it was im-im-pow…” she scrunched up her little face in frustration at the difficult word and Stacy stiffled a giggle. “Important?”, she offered, and Stormy nodded. “Im-pow-tan!” Stacy got them checked in, and then Stormy braced herself against the bottom of the box as Daddy picked up the box and carried her back to the vet’s office. Stormy didn’t really remember being here, aside from the nice lady. She’d been heavily medicated or passed out for the majority of her visit here, but the sharp, scary smell stung her nose all the same. It smelled a little bit like Daddy did when he came home from work- was Daddy a doctor too? Just then, an older woman entered the room. She had a kind face, with salt and pepper hair hastily tied up in a bun behind her head. She smiled and greeted Brun. “Hello. I’m Dr. Redmond, pleasure to meet you.” She had a soft, low voice that was perfect for both distressed fluffies and, surprisingly, Brun. She spoke in a very no-nonsense sort of way, and she moved with practiced efficiency in all of her movements. She was apparently unbothered by Brun’s silence, as well. She carefully reached in and extracted Stormy from the box, giving her an examination. She paid particular attention to where her back legs used to be, and nodded. “Looks like she healed well, that’s great. Alright, Stormy, I’ve got to give you some medicine, okay? It’s going to give you a little pokey-hurty, but it’s so you don’t get sick, okay?” Stormy nodded and braced herself, scrunching up her little nose and eyes in anticipation as Dr. Redmond carefully drew up and administered her vaccines, choosing the loose skin just behind where the rope had rubbed the fur away- it had never grown back. “Good girl! You did great, let me give you a little treat, and then I have to do the same thing to your babbehs too, okay?”
Stormy clapped her little hooves together, rolling on her belly a bit like a seal as she did. “Tweatie! An dat am otay, nice doctow wady, Daddy said was im-pow-tan.” Dr. Redmond gave her a scritch behind the ear and then reached into the box, extracting the first foal she laid her hands on- the little gray filly. Stormy puffed her chest out in pride. “Wook! Dat am gud babbeh, gav aww babbehs wots and wots of miwkies! Am gud mummah!” Dr. Redmond nodded, prodding the little wiggling bean of a foal. “You sure are, sweetheart. Looks healthy! Alright, time for the medicine-” She picked up a much smaller needle and pulled a bit of scruff up from the filly. Stormy’s eyes went wide and worried, and she glanced at Daddy. His face was impassive as always, and he was watching the doctor. “U-umm…” Stormy glanced at Daddy again, and his face had turned towards her. She swallowed thickly, and her voice was so careful and quiet and polite as she continued. “P-pwease, nice doctow wady, be cawefuww… am onwy wittwe babbeh…” Dr. Redmond smiled reassuringly at her, not noticing the tiny, dangerous line between Brun’s eyebrows. It was perfectly natural for fluffies to be very protective of their offspring, considering how delicate they were. “I will be, Stormy, it’s a little pokey hurty like I gave you, but then your babbehs won’t get sick. You don’t want them to get sick, right?” Stormy nodded. She had noticed the little line in Daddy’s forehead, and her poopie-place twitched in fear. “O-otay, nice doctow wady. Stowmy sowwy.” With a practiced movement, Dr. Redmond vaccinated the little filly, who let out a single peep of distress, but then she was immediately handed to Stormy to hug, who coo’d and nuzzled her. The process repeated one at a time, with each foal vaccinated and handed to Stormy for hugs to “fix owies”. After that, Dr. Redmond had given Stormy another treat for being brave and polite and sent them on their way.
While Daddy carried her out of the room, Stormy worried. Daddy wasn’t happy, and the wrinkle was there. She had done something bad. Her heart raced and she curled herself around her babbehs to comfort them and herself. She hoped against hope that this wasn’t the last time she got to hug them. She didn’t notice at all as Stacy helped Brun set up the next appointment for booster shots, or as she made small talk as the computer finalized everything. She did notice when Daddy’s huge hand plucked the little gray filly from the fluff-pile and handed her to the nice lady at the front desk. She tried to brace herself against the side of the box to see, but with her back legs missing she couldn’t, only succeeding in flopping onto her tummy. Stacy had expected Brun to simply turn and leave as he had the first time, as she’d figured out he wasn’t one for social niceties. She had already resigned herself to not seeing Stormy again until her next checkup, when suddenly Brun had reached into the box and pulled out a tiny gray filly, pushing the little thing into her hands and grunting. “Keep her. Got too many.” Stacy blinked, holding the little squirming thing to her chest and stammered, but Brun had turned and left. She looked down at the tiny little filly as she nuzzled against her and latched onto her pinkie. She was beautiful, like a little mini-Stormy. Well, now she felt like a real asshole for judging the guy. He was probably the gentle-giant type. She kissed the little filly on the nose and stood up to grab some formula and a bottle.
Stormy’s mouth had fallen open wordlessly as Daddy had left, but when she met Daddy’s eyes, she didn’t dare even try to say anything. The message was clear- this was the punishment for whatever it was that she had done wrong. She wanted to cry, to scream, to plead and beg with Daddy to go back, beg the nice lady to give her the bestest babbeh back, but Daddy’s forehead still had the wrinkle and it set her prey-animal brain on fire. She merely huddled around the rest of her babbehs as he placed the box in the passenger seat of the car and walked around to the driver side. When he got in the car, he didn’t turn it on. His hands were on the steering wheel, and his knuckles were white. “You embarassed Daddy. Do you know what that means?” His voice was plain, clear from any emotion. Stormy shivered, trying not to make scaredy poopies or pee pees. “N-nu, Daddy, nu knu wha dat mean.” Daddy’s face turned slowly towards her, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. “It means you made Daddy feel bad. Don’t make Daddy feel bad again. Or Else.” Stormy found enough air to let out a tiny, breathless promise. “Yus Dadddy, Stowmy wiww be Gud Fwuffy. Stowmy sowwy.” The wrinkle disappeared, and Stormy let herself breathe as Brun faced forward and started the car.
