Sorry Box

>your fluffy pony is pregnant.
>although your pissed that pissed that your friend's male fluffy pony knocked yours up effectively against her will, your fluffy seems oddly keen on the idea of fluffy babies.
>you agree to do everything in your power to make sure that delivery goes smoothly.
>it's one week later, your fluffy has gotten noticeably larger and now can no longer move on her own.
>you lie with your fluffy pony in the safety room, cuddling her and feeding her from your hand to keep her calm.
>"uhoh! gotta make pwoopies!"
Hold on, I'll got get your litter box.
>"can' wait!"
>she struggles a bit and you hear crying coming from her rear end.
>sticking out from you fluffy is a tiny puff ball, crying it's little eyes out.
>ITBEGINS.jpg
>you thank god that you cut some of the fluff from the necessary areas to avoid complications as you take ease the baby from your fluffy and proceed to clean it off.
>no sooner do you set this baby nursing than your fluffy groans again and another tiny puff ball appears behind her.
>repeat the process until there are five baby fluffy pony nursing against your now mommy fluffy pony.
>the sight is beyond adorable and you can't help yourself, you reach out to pet the new fluffy family.
>suddenly your fluffy snaps too and with a speed that you would next expect from a mare that had just given birth, she bites down on you hand.
>OW! THE FUCK?!
>your fluffy growls at you loudly and give you a DEATH GLARE that no fluffy pony should be capable off.
>"weave..." she says, "NOW!"
>you don't argue, slowly you back out of the room and close the door, your fluffy maintains her DEATH GLARE the entire time.
>thefuckjusthappened?!.png

>I mull over the fact that my Fluffly Pony just bit me
>AH HELL NAW
>I slam open the door and stomp in
>The stupid bitch is giving me the death glare but I return it with my NUCLEAR HOLOCAUST GLARE
>"You get 1 chance to say your sorry. Now spit it out or we're doing things the hard way"
>She fucking growls at you
>"Welp, I guess it's the hard way."
>You walk quickly towards her and the foals.
>She fucking gets up and tries to charge at you
>Stupid thing doesn't even understand just how weak and slow it is after giving birth. That one bite earlier probably expended most of her energy to resist. A vain attempt to put fear into your heart and assert her dominance.
>Fucking punt the thing across the room, not hard enough to really injure it. She hits the wall and lands with a thud
>You begin picking up each of foals in your hand, their mewling is pretty fucking annoying
>You weren't paying enough attention and the stupid fluffy pony had already dragged itself over to you
>She bites your leg
>FUCKING SHITCUNTS
>You don't punt her this time, bring your foot down onto her back. You defintly cracked some of her ribs
>She out cold this time, you pick her up in your spare hand and walk off to the kitchen.
>The Sorry Stick isn't going to be good enough this time

>Fluffy Pony finally regains consciousness in the kitchen
>She looks around and then she fucking screams at me "GIMMIE BABEHS NOAW"
>WAP, sorry stick right across her face
>She repeats "I WAN BABEHS NOAW MEANIE" without even responding to the sorry stick
>Hit her two more times across the face before telling her "You can talk to me, or you can talk to Mr. Sorry Stick. I know where the babies are, but I don't talk to rude Ponies. Only Mr. Sorry Stick talks to rude ponies."
>She gives me that fucking glare again, oh man I am pissed
>Eventually she croaks out "please...whar babehs?"
>"I can't hear you."
>"Pwetty Please...whar babehs?"
>"Oh, well they're right up on the counter. Here."
>I lift her up to the counter to where I've placed the foals
>She rushes over to nuzzle them
>She starts counting them. It takes her a few times before it finally dawns on her
>"2 not here! 2 not here! whar! Whar!"

>"Oh...those 2 foals were no good, no good at all. They BIT me! "
>I pull out a tuffleware that I'm keeping 2 foals in.
>I point to one of them and say "That foal bit my hand!" I show her where Mother Fluffy bit me the first time.
>"This foal bit my leg!" pointing to the second one and the area of my leg Mother Fluffy bit me.
>I wish I had a camera. The look on her face is priceless.
>"GIMMIE BABEHS!"
>Three more times across the face with the Sorry Stick. I think I knocked a tooth out this time, swinging too hard.
>"You've got to understand! These are dangerous foals! They might bite you or your other babies. I mean, I could never keep a fluffy pony that'd bite somebody."
>She's confused now. She knows she was the one who bit me and doesn't or can't comprehend why I'm saying her foals did. Her brain can't handle these kind of games. Hopefully the lesson will stick though.
"Biting Fluffies go into the Sorry Box"

>"S-sorry bawx?"
>There's the fear. A new idea is generally hard to introduce into a fluffies head, but I think the stress of birth, though leaving her physically weak, has at least boosted her mental capacity.
>"Oh yes! The Sorry Box!"
>I motion towards the microwave
>"You don't know about the Sorry Box because you're such a good little pony, who'd never bite anyone. These bad little foals though...they need the Sorry Box."
>This tuffleware is going to be ruined, but I want this lesson to stick and stick hard.
>"Here, I'll let you watch what happens when bad fluffies need to go stay in the Sorry Box"
>I place the Tuffleware inside the microwave and start set the timer for 99:99

>Nothing happens at first just spinning spinning spinning
>Fluffy is fucking fixated on the two little foals
>Spin Spin Spin
>The two foals finally seem to be experiencing so distress
>They're wobbling around the tuffleware, constantly losing their balance because of the spinning
>Then I notice that liquid is starting to drip out of the little foals unopened eye lids
>At first I assume it's tears, but then I realize it's actually their eyeballs turning to liquid
>"NO CRY BABEHS, NO CRY BABEHS!"
>She's losing it but she can't stop staring
>And then it finally happens, one right after the other
>They both burst apart, the two little foals coating the inside of the tuffleware
>Fluffy Pony is statue still
>I lean in real close to her and whisper
>"That's what happens to bad fluffies who need the Sorry Box. Hopefully none of your other foals turn out to be bad ones"
>A few days later she's forgotten the trauma
>But the lesson stuck, the lesson stuck hard.
>She's afraid of the Microwave, even if she doesn't remember why, and she's far harsher with how her 3 foals behave towards me than I am. She's corrects them almost instantly, usually with a kick to the head.
>She usually says "Bad babehs go in da sorwy bawk, you nawt bad babeh so dun act like one"
>I may be on to a new method of improving Fluffy Pony behavior