You are Daffodil, a pretty light yellow monochrome pegasus. You recently got special huggies from a feral stallion even though your daddeh told you not to. He said something about not enough money to feed you and babies, but that was silly. You are the one who will feed your babbehs not him, silly daddeh. You know that once the babbehs are born, he will have no choice but to love them as much as he loves you.
Day by day you notice your tummy getting bigger. Your daddeh says you are getting fat. You almost spill the beans, whatever those are, that you have tummy babies, but all you do is puff up your cheeks and pout. You won’t be able to hide that you’re a soon mummah much longer. You thought you were busted once you couldn’t walk anymore, but daddeh said something about needing to put you on a diet and he would take you to the vet next week to get checked out.
Then it happened, you had the biggest poopies of your life, but they weren’t poopies at all. They were your babbies! There were two and two and one babies. A yellow wingie filly like you, a brown earthie colt, a green pointy colt, a light blue wingie filly like your mummah, and finally was a yellow wingy-pointy colt. The wingy-pointy made you especially happy as the fluffy who gave you special huggies was one. He was basically a fusion of the two of you. If you were a bad mummah, you would have called him your bestest, but all babies are good babies and deserve the same amount of love.
You clean your babies and sing softly to them as you feed them. Soon however, you start to feel really sleepy and fall asleep with your foals cuddled up next to you. You couldn’t wait for daddeh to see them. You were the happiest you had ever been.
The morning came more quickly than you expected, the sun was shining and you were ready to great your children for the new day. You turned to pick them up to feed them but something was wrong. You couldn’t see your babbehs. You called and called for them, searching the entire saferoom from top to bottom, but there was no sign of them. You beat your little hooves against the saferoom door to get daddehs attention, but he didn’t come. He must be at work, you think, so you sit on your haunches and cry until he gets home.
You are Tim. Recently, your well behaved fluffy got knocked up and lied to you about it. Part of you considered to give her parsley to abort her foals, but that would be too easy. You could have aborted them with parsley, but decided it might be ok to let her have them if she simply came clean about it. However, the longer she kept lying to you, the more you came to despise her. Then you got a terribly evil idea, but you would have to wait until she gave birth to implement it.
You were incredibly lucky. Daffodil gave birth in the middle of the night while you were home. The baby monitor you hid in her safe room let you know when it happened. You did your research and knew that fluffy mothers would pass out after giving birth and feeding their young for the first time. Sometimes their mates or owners would have to wake them up as they would fall asleep partway though the feeding.
Once she conked out, you made your way into the room and slowly placed all the foals into a box. You quietly snuck out with her children and made your way down into the basement. There you placed them all into an incubator with an auto-feeder attached. While you were placing them into the incubator, you noticed the alicorn. That changed your plans a bit, but simply meant you had a replacement if she hit the wan die loop. Well maybe a replacement anyways, she did lie to you after all and break your no babies rule. Either way, life was about to get horrible for the “mummah-no-more”.
You went to bed and waited for morning. The sound of a crying fluffy over the baby monitor woke you up. Part of you wanted to go in right away, but you decided to wait until the afternoon so that she could suffer a bit more. In the mean time you looked after the foals. Even though they had food readily available, they still needed attention and to have their shit cleaned up. You don’t get too attached to them as most of them won’t be staying long.
After heading upstairs, you spot something in the bushes of your backyard. You see your neighbor’s brown alicorn poking his head out of the bushes. You started to reason that he was probably the father of the foals, so you decided to approach him.
“Hello, Felix. What are you doing in my yard?”
“Oh, hewwo mistah Tim, jus’ wonderin’ if daffodil am awoun’. Nu see in wong time.”
“Well, she is in her saferoom after being a bad fluffy.”
“Wha’ did she du?”
“She had babies without my permission and lied to me about it. Right now the foals are in an incubator and she isn’t getting them back. You know anything about that.”
With the straightest face a fluffy can give, he answered you, “Fewix nu gib Daffodiw speshaw huggies. Daddeh say nu gib speshaw huggies wthou’ pewmission. Fewix nu dumb enough tu stick nunu stick whewe nu wanted. Dat am how fuffies get fuckin’ muwdewed.” You chuckled a bit. Felix was a rare fluffy capable of swearing, which made him far too interesting for even abusers to harm. Hell, you would have actually preferred it if he was the father.
“Well, have you seen any odd fluffies around in the last month.” You aren’t expecting much from him, but it doesn’t hurt ask.
He thinks for a moment, “Fewix du wemembah seein’ anothew wingy-pointy awhiwe back, buh daddeh’s bwuddah gwabbed him an gabe him wha’ hoomins caww a Cowumbian neck tie.”
“What color was he.”
“Gween.”
“Okay, why don’t run on home Felix.”
“Otay mistah Tim.” With Felix gone, you return to your house to confront Daffodil.
You are Daffodil. This is the worst day ever. Your babies have all disappeared. Tears stain your cheeks and your hooves are bloody from beating on the door to get daddeh’s attention. You entire safreroom was a mess, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was your foals. “Daffodil, I’m home!” You hear daddeh. Daddeh will make everything better, he just has too.
As he opens the door you run and start hugging his shin, your tear stained cheeks are buried in his pant leg. “Daddeh, Daffodiw nee’ hewp!” Babbehs am missin’!”
“But Daffodil, you don’t have babbehs.” He looks at you coldly. It scares you a bit, but this is daddeh, he would never hurt you. “I see you managed to lose some weight. Guess we will have to cancel the vet appointment.” Daddeh looked around the room and sighed. “Mind explaining why you tore your room apart?”
“Was wookin’ fow babbehs.”
“I told you that you don’t have babies. Quit lying or you will get the sorry box.”
“DAFFODIW NU WIE! HABE TU FIN’ BABBEHS!” Immediately after yelling at him your daddeh gives you a firm slap across your face. You don’t remember much afterwards, just that you woke up at the place daddeh calls the vet. The two look at you and then the doctor lady says something chilling.
“I can’t tell you why she thinks she has foals Mr. Galson. There is no evidence she was ever pregnant. Being this delusional, it might be best to put her down.” No, the doctor lady had seen lots and lots of fluffy mummahs. If anyone would have been able to tell you had babies, it was her. “Frankly, I don’t blame you for slapping her, not that it matters.”
“I still feel bad, but she just kept lying to and yelling at me. She’s usually such a good fluffy.”
“Just use this sorry stick next time.” She gives daddeh a small smile and hands him a cheap sorry stick. You start to tremble and tear up as he holds it. “It’s free of charge.”
“Thanks.”
The ride home is quiet. Usually rides are fun, but daddeh seems to not want to talk to you. When you get home he puts you in the safe room and tells you sketi night is canceled this week. You don’t care, as the only thing you want is your babbehs. You don’t tell daddeh that, as he still thinks you are lying.
A week goes by. If your babbehs were here they would be opening their see places by now. You still feel sad when you think about it. It is late at night and you are trying to sleep, but the sound of your babbehs chirping still fills your thinky place.
“Chirp chirp cheep!”
That wasn’t a thinky place sound, that was your babbeh! You get up and start looking around. You don’t call as your daddeh gets mad when he hears the word babbeh. You see that the door is slightly open and go through. You tiptoe through the house following the sounds of your babbeh. Eventually, you find a small box which the chirping is coming from. You try your hardet to open it, but it just won’t budge.
Eventually your daddeh comes out and see you trying to get into the box. He hears the babbeh too and opens it for you. Inside is your yellow wingy babbeh. Before you can pick it up and give it huggies and milkies, daddeh takes it.
“Huh, don’t know where you came from, but you can’t stay here little one. Can’t afford another fluffy.”
“Pwease gib babbeh tu mummah, daddeh.” you ask with tears in your eyes.
“It isn’t YOUR child. Just some nasty feral like the ones that invaded the garden last summer.”
“B-b-buh.”
“Unless you broke my biggest rule and had babies without my permission. That would make you the worst fluffy ever.” Your heart sinks. You don’t want to be the worst fluffy ever, but you remember what daddeh did to the bad outside fluffies and your heart starts to race.
“Buh it stiww am onwy a babbeh. Nu du noffin wong.”
“It came in here without my permission. I’m sorry, but it has to go.” With one quick motion, daddeh snaps your wingy foal’s neck in front of you and puts it in a plastic bag. You scream, your tears fill your face. Daddeh just drops you in the sorry box and leaves you all alone once again. You pass out from screaming at your daddeh for killing your babbeh.
“Chirp cheep chirp!”
“Wha? Babbehs?!” You look out through the slot in your sorry box and see you brown and green babbehs sitting on the kitchen floor in front of you. You call out to them, and they start crawling towards your voice. You then see you daddeh walking towards the sorry box. He isn’t paying attention and you watch with horror as he steps directly onto your brown babbeh. He slips and falls directly onto your green babbeh.
“What the hell?” He picks up the two now flat corpses. “Guess more than one got in. What kind of shitty mother would just leave their children like that?” You aren’t even paying attention anymore, your mind is broken. Only on phrase comes to mind.
“Wan die.” You say clearly and monotonously. Your daddeh doesn’t bat an eye and throwns the copses in the box with you along with the one from last night. “Wan die.” You say again, as you daddeh takes you outside and drops you and the foals in a red bin, but not before snapping your legs. You don’t even wince, you just repeat “wan die” again. You land in the bin with your children and rotting fluffy corpses cushion your fall, a small feral foal that was tossed in alive tries to suckle off of you, but your milk ran dry a day ago. You just sit in your hell with nothing to do but wait.
It has been three months since your mare went into the wan die loop from seeing three of her kids die in front of you. Her two remaining children have grown into fine young fluffies, both with manes that match their fluff. You start to feel bad about Daffodil. You think you went too far, but even the vet who was in on it says you did nothing wrong. A fluffy that lies and breaks rules is a bad fluff after all. On days you feel really down, the siblings’ hugs make you feel good. You guess it was true, babies do make everything better.