This story was inspired by @NekuChan’s comic Grandma’s Christmas Tradition
November, the month where the last few leaves cling to their trees, and when the days become darker and shorter, when you can see your own breath as the air cools, and smell the pumpkins rot. And where the holidays are around the corner.
November 26, Stonehill, Oregan. A couple walked into a store, the fluffies immediately seeing the two humans began to dance, sing and beg for new owners. The requests were promptly ignored as the two walked to the center of the shop. The foal pen. There, nearly weaned colts and fillies of different colors played, ate and slept, dreaming of the day they’d go home with a family. One blue unicorn took notice of the new visitors. He trotted up to the pen wall.
“Hewwo! Nice mistah an’ wady be nyu daddeh an’ mummah fow pointy babbeh? Babbeh do bestest dancies fow ‘ou!” The colt sat on his haunches and waved his forelegs around enthusiastically. One shook grimaced and shook her head, instead, reaching for a beige filly with a white tail and beginnings of a mane. The foal light up.
“Nice hoomins gon be nyu mummahs fow babbeh?! Gon’ gib sketties an’ toysies an’ huggies’ an wub?” The foal blabbered as she was carried off into the register. The woman laughed.
“Of course, we’re gonna be your new parents and you won’t want for anything. You’ll have babies when you’re old enough too.” The woman stroked the top of the filly’s head.
“Babbehs!? Gon be mummah and haf speshuw fwend and babbels?!” The filly squealed excitedly. Now she had to be the best, the best mother, special friend, the best fluffy. She continued to blather over her luck. The filly used to be the poopy baby, never loved by her mother or siblings. But now she’d be living in the lap of fluffy luxury.
“Amelia, do you still have that rewards card?” Amelia chuckled and handed her husband the card. He thanked her and gave it to the cashier, who typed in the numbers.
In the most unamused voice the employee droned. “You’re savings come to two forty-five, your total spending is three fifty. Enjoy your new fluffy and your day.” The couple thanked the boy and turned to the doors. Once they left the teenager took a swig of energy drink and groaned. “Fucking hugboxers.”
~ ~ ~
“Nyu housie am su pweddy!” The filly stared in awe at the walls adorned with pictures, by fluffy standards it was a grand castle, but for humans, it was just a house.
“Glad you like it, Girly.” Scott said, walking down the hall. Opening a closet door, revealing a saferoom The small room was fitted with padded foam tiles and had plenty to do. A plush bed to sleep in, blocks, a few stuffed animals and a ball. The fluffy was set onto the floor and she immediately began to run around in sheer amazement. All of this! Just for her! The filly sat and weeped tears of joy.
“Fank ‘ou, Mummah an’ Daddeh! Babbeh wub ‘ou su muchies! Gon be bestest babbeh fow ‘ou!” The filly sobbed as she rubbed her face into the hands of her owners.
“Aww, what a sweetheart you are. But now we have to give you a name! We can’t just call you “Fluffy” now can we? Your new name is Turkey!” Amelia smiled as Turkey wept even harder.
“Tuwkey wub new–hic–namsies!”
~ ~ ~
A week later, Turkey and had been fully weaned, meaning it was time for a new diet, and sketties. Turkey’s eyes widened as a steaming bowl of pasta was set in front of her. Not wasting a moment the fluffy dove her snout into the mound of tomato sauce and noodles. Between bites she gulp for air and sung the praises of the food. “F-fank ‘ou –gulp– fow bestest sketties –gulp– Daddeh!”
Scott ruffled Turkey’s white mane as she demolished the spaghetti. “No problem girl, eat all you want.”
Turkey finally lifted her face from the bowl, her muzzle was covered in red-orange sauce and a few loose noodles clung to her lips. She drowsily belched and struggled as Scott wiped the stains off her face. Gently picking up the fluffy he walked down the hall to the closet saferoom, placed Turkey into bed, turned on her nightlight and closed the door. Heading back towards the living room where Amelia sat on the couch scrolling through her laptop, looking at blueprints for a client. Scott sat down next to her with an exhausted sigh.
“I’m thinking alfalfa, collared greens and oats for Turkey, what do you think?” Amelia causally inquired, typing in an email response.
Scott picked up the TV remote and switched it on. “Yeah, sounds good.”
Amelia glanced at her husband. “You’re taking the whole ‘don’t get attached’ thing really well. Do you really not like fluffies?”
Scott continued to stare at the screen. “Yeah. I owned a fluffy as a kid, his name was Shredder. He was green with black spots all over. Other fluffies, didn’t like him. They called him ugly and all that. One day, he was out in the yard, and a herd got through the fence. The smarty demanded that Shredder leave and he refused. So, the smarty got his mooks to gang up on him and well, killed him.” Scott wiped a few tears from his eyes. “After that I realized that a lot of fluffies live up to their nickname. Nothing more than shitrats.”
Amelia gave a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, hun. That must’ve been hard. But anyways, my family’s going to be in town for the holidays, so you can see all your nieces and nephews. I know how much you love them.”
Scott gave a small smile. “Thanks. I think I’m gonna hit the sack early.”
“You do that, I’ll be here if you need me.”`
~ ~ ~
“Mummah, Tuwkey wan babbehs. Can Tuwkey haf babbehs?” Turkey stood in the kitchen, where Amelia sat on the counter, watching the leaves fall.
“Hm? Babies? Can you take care of all of them and not be mean to any?” Amelia inquired.
“Yes! Tuwkey gon’ wub aww babbehs! Gun gib bestest huggies an’ miwkies an’ be bestest mummah!” Turkey affirmed, puffing out her cheeks and chest.
“Alright, I know a nice stallion to give you special huggies.” Satisfied, Turkey turned back to her food. Amelia dialed up her phone. “Hey there, Violet. It’s that time of year, would you mind to bring Lemon Bar over for a ‘playdate’?”
Not a few minutes later, Amelia’s neighbor stood out on the porch, with her fluffy, Lemon Bar in her arms. Lemon Bar’s yellow tail wagged happily as he squirmed.
“Wet go, Mummah! Wan meet pweddy mawe an’ haf’ guud feews!” Violet laughed as she set down her fluffy. Amelia beckoned over Turkey.
“Come say hi to Lemon Bar, Turkey! He’s going to be the stallion who gives you babies!”
“Nice stawwion haf’ speshuw huggies wif Tuwkey? Tuwkey wike!” The tan mare nuzzled her cheek against the yellow stallion, who giggled giddily.
Amelia turned to Violet. “How about some lunch?”
~
“GUUD FEEWS!” Echoed down the hallway, signifying the end to the “playdate”. Both fluffies happily trotted down the hall, both happily talking to themselves. Each fluffy is scooped up by their respective owners, and with a brief farewell, it’s once again just Turkey and Amelia. Taking care to get back to the saferoom, Amelia sets Turkey down on the floor and switches on the small TV monster, to “Babbehs”. Turkey squeals in excitement and settles down into her bed.
“Turkey, I want you to see how those mommies are treating their babies, and I want you to treat your babies that way too once they’re born. Do you understand?” A vigorous nod from Turkey is elicited, as the mare was hypnotized by the bright colors and babies. The further the day went on, so did her maternal instinct as Turkey sang to her unborn children, wishing to teach them everything
~ ~ ~
November 25, three weeks after Turkey’s initial impregnation. And still early enough in the day where no visitors would be arriving anytime soon. She lay on her swollen belly, singing to herself. Scott and Amelia stood outside her saferoom. Opening the door, Turkey snapped out of her oxytocin-induced daze. Scott looked down at the fat dam and smiled.
“Hey, Turkey! I got something for you!”
“Daddeh haf sketties?”
“Sort of, it’s sketty noodles with green sauce!” He set down the steaming plate of pesto pasta.
Turkey gasped and began to wolf down her meal. Savory flavors of herbs tinermingled with each bite taken. And before long, all that was left was a clean plate. Turkey was back to cuddling belly, singing about how one day they’d soon taste glorious sketties.
Her owners stood and watched.
“Why’s it taking so long? I loaded that thing with more parsley than last time.” Amelia whispered.
“Give it a few more minutes. She’s gonna miscarry right about…now.”
“Huu…huuu…tummeh babbehs gib huwties.” Turkey complained. “Haf…owwies!” Turkey’s breathing became labored, the calm breaths soon turned into hyperventilation. The dam screamed. “SCREEEEEEE!! BABBEHS! BABBEHS AM COMIN! NU BABBEHS, STAY IN MUMMAH!!! EEEEEEEE! BABBEHS COME TU SOON! REEEEEEEE!!!” Turkey writhed in pain as fluids gushed out of her. Her uterus contracted, expelling the much to young fetuses.
Then, the pain stopped. Turkey stopped crying. “B-babbehs? Wai make nu chiwpies…?” The fluffy turned around, only to see half gestated lumps of flesh. Soaked in amniotic fluids and unmoving. The mare screamed again, Amelia scooped up the hysterically sobbing mare and carried her out to the kitchen, leaving her husband to gather the dead foals.
Turkey struggled as she was held tight. The large pot in front of her boiled ominously. “WAI MUMMAH NU HEWP TUWKEY?! WAI?!” Turkey’s wails were ignored as she was unceremoniously dumped into the roiling waters. Instantly, pain receptors fired off and traveled up nerves, where the signal ricocheted in Turkey’s skull before being converted into a searing pain.
“SCREEEEEEEE!! WAWA AM BAD FOW TUWKEYYYYYYYYY!!! SQUEEEEE! EEEEEEEEE! WOSTEST BUWNY HUWTIEESSSSS!!!”
Being pulled from the hot water into the cold sink, the pain lingered. Dunked in a bowl of ice water, huge swatches of fluff left Turkey’s body all the while she begged for mercy, and for her fluff not to leave her. Any remaining patches were torn off with quick motions. Scott entered the room, carrying back the plate, this time, with stillborn foals on it rather than pasta.
The bald mare struggled as she was strapped into a rig. The leather cuffs rubbing her sensitive skin raw. Even more as salty tears ran down her face as she cried, further adding to her distress. Her crying intensified as she saw her foals be coated in seasoning. “Huuhuuhuuu…babbehs. Mummah sowwy, babbehs.”
Bone-chilling sounds of knife being scraped against the grain reverberated through the kitchen. It’s keen steel edge looked as if it could cleave the very air around it. Scott looked from the blade in his hand to the writhing monstrosity of a bio-toy. He shook his head. They’re all the same. Several cuts later, and bloody viscera and hooves lay on the floor.
As the fluffy screamed and begged for salvation, Amelia attempted to yelled over the noise. “SCOTT! YOU FOR GOT TO DO IT OVER THE SINK!”
“WHAT?!”
“YOU FORGOT TO–oh, who am I kidding? He’ll figure that one out.”
The screams stopped soon after, the mare’s lungs fighting for every breath. She weakly yelled as she was freed from the rig. No longer bothering to put up a real fight; only cries of terror. Turkey was gone. All that remained was a broken mare. She whimpered as spices coated her skin, adding a new burning sensation. She struggled, desperate to shake off the pain. Of course, it didn’t work.All she felt was the absolute betrayal of her Mummah and Daddeh. Not the kind humans she thought they were. They were merely monsters. She gave one last attempt for her pathetic life as a blade severed her trachea, leaving her to gasp for air that would never come, like a fish out of water. Making soundless screams until she died.
~ ~ ~
“Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad! It’s so great to see you. The turkey–er–fluffy is almost done! It’s the recipe that you always used.” The older couple hugged their son, and removed their shoes and coats. Entering the warm house, the atmosphere was lively; with adults sipping brandy in the kitchen whilst the children played together. The smell of spices of all sorts filled the area. A rush of hot air escaped the oven as a tray was pulled out. The guest let out impressed oh’s and aw’s over the meal that rested on it. A supposed turkey, posed with foals were spilling out. With a heavy thud it was set on the table. Amelia wiped her hands on her pants.
“The turkey’s finished! That means it’s time to eat! Everybody grab a seat and sit down. Now, who want’s a foal?”
~ ~ ~
Happy Thanksgiving
-thelost_one
