The saferoom settled into an uncomfortable silence.
Rosie initially tried to ignore Sweetie. She asked Tricia multiple times for the toys in the pen, but according to her Sweetie needed them to help keep her foals happy. After another night in the sorry box for a tantrum she stopped asking and just played with the ball she was left. Even this was difficult for her, with only a narrow L-shaped space to kick it around in her games became dull quickly.
Sweetie wasn’t doing much better. Though the few toys she could play with were fun, she was starting to get antsy stuck in her bed all day. The few times she tried to leave it she found that her hips hurt too much to do more than scoot on her belly. When Tricia found her she got scolded and told that walking around was bad for her babies. She didn’t want to upset her mummah, but watching Rosie chase after the ball made her heart hurt. Her legs itched to run and play but as soon as her hips has healed a bit her belly had grown so large her hooves barely touched the ground outside the bed.
Tricia arrived into the safe room a few times a day to play with the foal, the only bright spots in her life currently. Tricia happily pushed a ball at her to kick back, read story books to her, and made the stuffy friends dance and sing fun songs about her. She was so happy every time!
And then Tricia would bring nummies! Sweetie got a soft mash of kibble and oats softened with milk and occasionally topped with chocolate syrup or sprinkles! Sweetie loved the sprinkles the most, it was almost as if she could taste the colors of each one.
Then Tricia would set a bowl of bland, basic kibble out for Rosie, pat her on the head once (if she remembered) and leave.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Rosie would glare. Cold rage in her eyes, unable to even speak to the foal. Sweetie hated it, she felt horrible for everything that she had done to Rosie and wished there was something she could do to make it better. She didn’t want Roy as a special friend, or these tummy babies, or even this giant pen all to herself. She would happily trade them with the mare if she knew how.
One afternoon, as Rosie listlessly kicked her red ball around, it bounced off a wall and into the foal’s pen. They both watched it as it rolled over into the corner of the pen.
“Dummeh babbeh gib baww bak.” Rosie spat.
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes at the mare’s harsh tone. She wiggled, trying to get her hooves down to the bottom of the pen and scoot towards the ball.
After a long struggle, the foal dropped her head onto the padded bed. “Nu can… huu… Sowwy….”
“Dummeh wasy babbeh…” Rosie sneered, putting her hooves up on the fabric mesh of the pen. “Yu take aww Wosie’s toys! Wai nee’ baww tuu?!”
Sweetie sobbed as the mare pounded her hooves into the mesh. When that proved fruitless, the pink mare looked around for another way in.
She tried to jump over the top, but her stunted wings couldn’t even lift her enough to get her hooves to the top bar. Rosie snorted, pacing around the room. Her eyes rested on her litterbox, the raised sides about halfway up the sides of the pen. She trotted over to it, balancing carefully on the edge. She hooked her hooves over the padded top bar as Sweetie watched in awe. In a feat of strength that was impressive for a portly BioToy, Rosie pulled herself over the edge and landed with a small yelp in the pen.
Brushing herself off, she trotted over to the red ball and picked it up in her mouth. As she turned to toss it out of the pen, Rosie paused. She was now surrounded by toys, many brand new toys specifically designed to be as enticing as possible to fluffies.
Dropping the ball, Rosie ran to the story books, flipping one open at random.
“Wosie… wan’ pway wif’ Sweetie?” asked Sweetie hopefully.
Rosie snorted. “Nu wan’ pway wif’ meanie babbeh. Gu way.”
Sweetie hung her head again. “Huu… nu wan’ Wosie hate Sweetie…”
“Den nu be meanie!” Rosie snapped. “Nu take spechow fwend! Nu take toysies!!”
“Sweetie nu wan’-”
“DEN WAI?!” Rosie shouted, tossing the book aside. “WOSIE TINK SWEETIE WUB WOSIE, DEN DU DIS!! WAI?!”
“Nu knu!!” Sweetie wailed. “Nu wan’! Nu wan’!!”
Rosie’s teeth were gritted, breathing heavily as hot, angry tears flowed down her cheeks. She released a rage filled roar as she turned back to the book, ripping out pages with her teeth.
“Bookies!! Nu!! Sweetie wub bookies!!”
“NU GET BOOKIES!” Rosie screeched. “WOSIE NU GET BOOKIES! WOSIE NU GET BWOCKIES!”
The enraged mare kicked over the blocks, the solid wood too durable for her to damage in any way. Sweetie wailed anyway, the pretty stack Tricia left for her toppled and spread around her.
“SWEETIE NU GET STUFFY FWENDS!” Rosie charged towards the pile of animal plushies.
“NU PWEASE!!” Sweetie begged. She loved the stuffie friends and the songs they would sing for her.
Rosie ignored her, picking up the lion and ripping the fabric crown off his head, a chunk of his mane coming with it. He was tossed aside in favor of the hedgehog, Rosie ripping the dress of her with her teeth.
“NUUUU MISS HEDGIEHOG NU BE NAKIE!!” Sweetie wailed, hooves flailing. She managed to wedge one of them around the side of the bed and scoot herself forward in an attempt to save the plush toys.
Rosie picked her next victim, the grey rabbit wearing denim overalls.
“Nu… pwease…” Rosie paused as the foal pleaded with her. “Dat am Mista Wabbit, he am Sweeties fabowit….” She scooted herself out of the bed, weight resting painfully on her bloated stomach.
Rosie watched her scoot for a moment before dropping the rabbit.
“Tank’oo, Sweetie wub Mistah Wabbit…”
Rosie turned and lifted her tail over the plush toy.
“NUUUUU WOSIE PWEASE-”
A loose brown sludge flowed out of the angry mare, landing squarely on Mister Rabbit’s face. Sweetie sobbed as her favorite toy was waterboarded with shit, surely this was something he could not survive.
“Dewe. Am faiw.” Rosie nodded at her carnage. “Wosie nu get toysies, bad babbeh nu get toysies.”
“Wai…. Huhuuu… wai mummah su meanie… Sweetie am guud babbeh, wub fwuffy mummah-” she was cut off by a hoof slamming into her eye.
“Yu knu wai.” Rosie spat. “Yu teww mummah dat Wosie am babbeh su can steaw Wosie spechow fwend! Yu am wowstest babbeh! Wosie hatechu! Wosie…” she curled her lip in disgust at the trembling foal below her. “Wosie wis babbeh gu foebah sweepies.”
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEE!” Sweetie screeched as her heart broke, her eye swelling shut.
Rosie stepped back, looking around as she realized that Tricia would hear this and not be happy with her. Thinking fast, she shoved a large block over to the side of the pen and hopped over, scampering back to her bed.
After a moment more of wailing Tricia came running in. “What’s wrong, Sweetie?! Is it the babies??”
Before Sweetie could catch her breath, Rose spoke up. “Sweetie… knock obah bwockies!”
“Did she now?” Tricia said, looking closely at the sweating mare.
“Yus! Fwuffy see it!” Rosie pointed to the scattered blocks.
“Oh no! Poor Sweetie, let me see.” Tricia began to step into the pen, stopping herself before she put her foot down in the pile of shit covering Mister Rabbit. “… What’s this? Sweetie, did you make bad poopies??”
“Sweetie did!!” Rosie said. “She wip up bookies, an’ den gib huggy-fwends sowwy poopies, an’ den- an’ den knock obah bwockies!! Fwuffy saw aww dat!”
Tricia looked from the battered, immobile foal to the mess in her pen. She frowned, turning to Rosie.
“Are you sure you’re telling the truth, Rosie?” Rosie began to tremble, hunching down in her bed. “Because lying babies are bad babies, and I don’t want to keep a bad baby in my house…”
Sweetie’s blood ran cold. Did Mummah mean she would take Rosie to the foalplace where she came from? Horrible things happened to big fluffies there! Sweetie couldn’t let that happen to Rosie!!
“Sweetie du dat!!” She chirped.
Tricia turned her glare to Sweetie. “Did you really?”
“…” Sweetie swallowed heavily. “Yus.”
“Why, Sweetie?” Tricia asked, hands on her hips. “You loved Mister Rabbit!”
“Sweetie was… mad!” She glanced at Rosie, putting together a story. “Wosie hit Sweetie wif’ baww!”
Rosie gasped in betrayal. Tricia pretended not to notice, shaking her head. “That was very bad Sweetie.”
“Sweetie knu, wiww gu sowwy box.” She hung her head.
“No, that’s too bad for the sorry box.” Tricia stepped out of the pen and pulled open one of the drawers under the sink. “You’re getting the sorry stick tonight.”
Sweetie trembled as Tricia returned with a riding crop, tapping it against her palm. “Nu wan’…”
“No one wants punishment, Sweetie.” Tricia said, setting a firm hand down on Sweetie’s shoulders. “But you did some very bad things, and you need to be punished.”
“WAIT MUMMAH! SWEETIE NU- SCREEEEEEEE!!” The crop came down hard on Sweetie’s back, cutting off her pleas. Before she could even catch her breath it struck her again, right on her still sensitive hip. An instinctual squirt of shit sprayed out of her, splashing her bed with it.
“That’s another bad poop, Sweetie.” Tricia’s voice was cold.
“Am… am sowwy…” She panted.
“Not yet.”
And down came the crop again.
Sweetie lay in the dim light of the saferoom, in her now cleaned mummah bed, only conscious of the aching of her body. Tricia had hit her all over, only sparing her stomach from the blows to avoid harming the developing babies. Afterwards she left the foal moaning in pain on the bottom of the pen while she cleaned and threw away the damaged toys, dropped her roughly into the now clean mummah bed, and neglected to feed her dinner. Sweetie listened to Rosie eat her sketties for being a good baby, watched through her swelling eye as Tricia pet and brushed Rosie after changing her diaper, and then left the two of them for the night.
Through her pain a small thought worked its way through her head. Did she deserve this? Part of her said yes. If she wasn’t such a bad baby she wouldn’t be hurting. If she hadn’t upset Rosie, she wouldn’t have thrown her tantrum and Mummah wouldn’t be mad.
On the other hoof… what had she even done? She didn’t ask for any of this. She tried to tell Mummah she didn’t want to be a big fluffy, that she didn’t want a special friend or babies but she didn’t listen! Rosie should have spoken up more! Rosie should have saved her from the mean stallion!
“…Wosie?” She asked softly.
“Wha’?” Rosie snapped from her bed.
“… Wai nu sab’ babbeh?”
“…Wha’?”
“Wai nu sab’ babbeh?” Sweetie repeated.
“Wosie nu knu wha’ bad babbeh mean.” Rosie snorted.
“Wosie wet meanie fwuffy gib wowstest huwties.” Sweetie continued. “Wosie nu stop Mummah fwom takin’ dipey away fwom Sweetie.”
“Wosie twy!” The mare protested. “Wosie nu wan’-”
“Yu wet babbeh get huwties.” Sweetie interrupted. “Yu teww mummah Sweetie maek bad poopies.”
“Wh- Wosie du dat buh- buh babbeh-”
“Sweetie nu cawe.” She said firmly. “Yu huwt Sweetie, huwt Mistah Wabbit and gib kickies tu Sweetie. Sweetie hatechu. Sweetie be bettah mummah tu tummeh babbehs den Wosie ebah am.”
The only sound in the saferoom was Rosie’s quiet sobs.