“Weh’ mummah takin’ babbeh?”
“Qui’, dummeh babbeh!” Caramel muttered, twisting her head to keep her hold on the filly’s nape as she spoke out the corner of her mouth. It would have been far easier to carry the foal on her back, but riding on a ‘mummah’s’ back was for good babies, and as far as Caramel was concerned, this particular foal was now her worst baby of all.
“Babbeh no wan’ go mummah, wan’ see nice wady again. Nice wady say she be bak, an’ babbeh-”
“Mummah say dummeh babbeh no tawkies!” Caramel snapped, dropping the foal and raising a leg over her. “Nao no mowe tawkies, or mummah gib’ sowwie hoofises wike she gib to dummeh wady!”
The foal’s ears drooped, and she turned her gaze away, looking at the ground beneath her without so much as a chirp.
“Dat betta.” growled Caramel, picking her up again and setting off down the street and into the night.
~
Meanwhile, a few streets away, the ‘nice lady’ who’d made such an impression on Caramel’s foal was making good on her promise. She hurried along the street, now clad in a black hoodie, and accompanied by a sandy-haired boy around the same age as her, also dressed all in black.
“Jeez, Kaycee, do we really have to do this?” he asked, rolling his eyes. “You know they sell the things for, like, 50 cents, right?”
“I wanna help these ones.” she retorted, giving him a dirty look. “They need me.”
“So do the ones that come in cans, ya’know.” her friend pointed out irritably.
“I’m not gonna support that kinda torture by giving them money, Tom.” Kaycee replied indignantly.
“Oh yeah, I’m sure not getting your two dollars will really hit them where it hurts.” he snarked.
“You wanna go on a date with me or not?”
“Well, yeah, course I do, like-” he stuttered, his tone changing instantly.
“Then shut up and help me get to them, or no date.” Kaycee stated, matter-of-factly. Of course, she had no intention of actually going on a date with a dolt like Thomas either way, but he was gullible enough to believe she would, and more importantly, his dad owned a pair of bolt-cutters. A pair of bolt cutters he now had clutched in one hand.
“Why didn’t you just like, ask the building manager for the key?” he queried, barely managing to keep up with her brisk pace.
“I did. They wouldn’t let me have it.” she replied, just as irritably. "Wouldn’t listen to a word I said. Think they thought I wanted to vandalize the place or something.
“Gee, I wonder why that was?” Thomas alluded dryly, glancing at the lip and nose piercings she sported. They suited her, drawing attention to her plump lips and button-nose, but they certainly didn’t help her look any less like an aspiring vandal.
“Sssh. This is the place.” Kaycee muttered, grabbing him by the hand and leading him down the alley. Thomas followed, trying his best not to let on how hard his heart was fluttering at her touch.
~
“Dis is da pwace.” Caramel muttered, to herself more than her baby, though the frightened foal kept its mouth shut tight, only letting out a small whimper.
Caramel knew this house well, she’d been casing it for a while for three reasons. First, there was a small gap in the fence where a board had come loose, just big enough for her to squeeze through. Second, she knew the fluffy that lived here was an ‘inside-outside’ fluffy, mainly from the copious amounts of shit that dotted the yard—there was far too much of it for there to be a litterbox inside, so the fluffy had to be getting in and out somehow. And third, and most importantly, she knew the mare that lived her was a ‘soon-mummah’. She’d seen the swollen, ball-sized fluffy several times through the big bay window that opened into the loungeroom, and made a habit of checking every time she walked past. On her adventure that morning where she’d met the red mare in the park, she’d even heard the fluffly bubbling to her owners “Bigges’ poopies soon! Can feew it!”.
Of course, her sojourn tonight was motivated less by clever timing, more by the desire to ‘turn’ her new worst baby into a ‘bestest babbeh’ as soon as possible. It was pure dumb luck that she happened to arrive just in time to hear the cries of “Biggest poopie! Biggest poopie nao!”
It was late, though, and no lights were on in the house. The mare’s owners were either out, or too sound asleep to hear her cries. Had Caramel even slightly more than the limited intelligence she possessed, she might have noticed the lack of a car in the driveway and realized it was the latter. As it was, however, she was just blessed with wholly-undeserved good fortune.
She leapt up over the board and into the hole in the fence, only to let out a surprised yet subdued ‘Scree!’ as she found herself stuck halfway. But with a little thrashing and struggling, she popped through into the bushes on the other side, and crept through the yard up to the back door. Here, noticing a small square flap—a cat flap, or in this case, fluffy-flap—in the back door, she set her foal down and pushed her way inside.
“Mummah, wai’ fo-” the foal cried out, cantering after her, only to be smacked in the face by the flap as it swung back outward behind Caramel. The impact knocked the tiny foal bodily into the air, and she tumbled across the grass in a ball of kicking hooves and surprised chirps.
The hapless foal struggled to her feet. She was bruised but neither bloodied or broken, merely surprised and a little sore. Shaking it off, she scampered back over to the fluffy-flap and tried to push her way through, just as her mother had done, but while the flap had easily given way to her full-grown mother, the tiny foal’s weight wasn’t even enough to budge it. Probably an intentional choice on the part of the homeowners, given they were expecting foals themselves.
Within the dark house, Caramel crept, or at least tried to, through the kitchen and towards the lounge, laughably oblivious to the loud clip-clop of her hooves on the tiles beneath her.
“Speciaw fwiend-UUUUGH! Dat yu?” came a strained voice from the lounge, and Caramel trotted around the corner to find a hot-pink fluffy lying atop a pile of newspapers, her bulging pregnant belly so swollen her legs kicked comically through the air, unable to even touch the ground. She was looking directly at Caramel, and seemed surprised to see her, but far more focussed on the task at hand. Already one chirping, freshly-born baby sat peeping and shivering on the newspaper in front of her: God knows how the mare had managed to maneuver herself or it into position, but nonetheless she had, and was halfway through licking the afterbirth from her baby, revealing an ocher coat beneath.
“Who yu?” asked the pregnant mare, letting out another strained grunt, and a sudden chirping behind her let Caramel know she’d just delivered another of her babies.
“Fwuffy am hewe to hewp soon-mummah becowme nao-mummah.” Caramel stated, avoiding answering the question.
“Mummah an daddeh no say ‘nefing abow’ fwuff-UGHHH!” the mother started, before another contraction silenced her mid sentence.
“It otay, yu mummah an daddeh say fwuffy can hewp!” lied Caramel, moving closer to sniff at the orange foal. It wasn’t pretty, at least she didn’t think so: Its orange coat was only a few shades shy of the brown coats of her ‘bad’ babies, and it had no wings, nor a horn. Nothing particularly pretty about it.
“Oh, otay…” the other mare strained, “Awngewica need hewpsies, no can tuwn wound to see nyu babbeh!”
“It otay, fwuffy hewp!” stated Caramel, trotting over to her and planting her nose in Angelica’s side. She began to push, hooves digging into the carpet, and slowly managed to swivel the pregnant mare on the spot—the newborn foal dragged along behind, still attached by umbilical cord.
Caramel let out a gasp the instant she saw the foal: even covered in icky afterbirth, she could see he had a pastel pink coat and a yellow mane, and what’s more, a tiny pair of wings that fluttered weakly.
“Wat wong?” asked Angelica, concern in her voice. “Is babbeh awwite?”
“Yeh!” Caramel said. “Is pwetties’ babbeh Cawa- fwuffy eva see! Is bestest babbeh fo’ suwe!”
“Nu, mummah say all babbehs—UGHN—good babbehs, no babbeh is bestest babbeh!” Angelica grunted breathlessly, another foal pushing its way out of her ‘special-place’. But Caramel wasn’t listening, in fact, Caramel wasn’t even there anymore. The moment she had seen the pink pegasus, she’d spun about and run back through the kitchen. She took the fluffy-flap in a single hurdle, almost bowling over the brown filly waiting outside for her in her haste.
“Mummah bac?” started the filly, but a glare from Caramel silenced her again.
“No tawkie, onwy chiwpy.” Caramel said flatly, before picking up her filly and carrying her back inside.
~
“Alright, get to work.” said Kaycee, bending down to peer into the shadows of the alcove. She couldn’t see the fluffy foals, but they had to be there. She blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, and finally managed to make out the blurry shape of a tiny, quivering brown foal staring back at her.
Thomas wasted no time, slinging the bolt cutters forwards and clamping them down around the padlock. He tried to force them shut with a grunt of effort, straining for a few moments, before letting out a breath of air.
“Hurry up!” Kaycee muttered.
“I’m trying, this thing’s pretty thick.” he retorted. “Gimme a sec to catch my breath, and-”
“Just cut through the fucking fence instead, then, you idiot.” she countered, pointing a the much thinner strands of metal.
“Evening, mister, miss. What do we think we’re up to down here?”
Both the young adults froze at the sound of the curt, clipped, authorative voice that echoed from behind them. Even before she turned around, Kaycee knew exactly what she was about to see. The officer stood behind them, one hand on his hip, the other on his belt. She swore silently, standing up to face him, and trying to look as innocent as possible—a difficult task for a girl with as many visible piercings as she had.
“Evening, officer. This, um, isn’t what it looks like.” she stuttered.
“Well, that’s a relief, because it looks like you two are trying to break into private property.” he noted dryly. “But it’s not what it looks like, so what exactly is it, then?”
“Look, officer, we’re not trying to break in. Well, I mean, we are, but it’s for a good reason… shit, look, just gimme a minute to-”
“It was all my idea, sir!” said Thomas, holding his hands out as if he expected the officer to cuff him for a minor misdemeanor. “I came up with it, and dragged her along, it’s all my fault.”
Was Thomas trying to take the fall for her? Clumsy as the attempt was, Kaycee couldn’t help but feel a little flattered—and a little insulted, too. It was sweet of him to try, but she could look after herself, she wasn’t some damsel in distress! Still… it was sweet of him to try.
“Oh yeah, sure sounds like it, the way she was barking orders at you.” the policeman noted, and Kaycee could have sworn she saw the corners of his mouth rise ever so slightly beneath the thick, handlebar mustache he sported. “What are your names?”
“Mary Higgens.” Kaycee lied without skipping a beat. Thomas, on the other hand, hesitated for a few seconds, his eyes darting back and forth as he struggled not to panic.
“Tyler.” he answered at last, just a little too late.
A look of consternation crossed the officer’s face, and he raised an eyebrow. “Tyler who?”
For a long moment, Thomas didn’t answer, and the officer simply stared him down, silently awaiting a response. Quick decisions under pressure clearly weren’t the boy’s strong suit.
“Durden.” he answered at long last, spitting out the first thought thing that came to mind.
“Tyler Durden?” the officer asked, raising his eyebrow even higher, and breaking into a grin. “Really? That’s what you’re going with? Tell you what, how about we try this over, and you give me your real name this time.”
Kaycee almost dared to breath a sigh of relief, when the officer turned his gaze on her and added: “BOTH your real names.”
~
Caramel trotted happily over to the still-straining Angelica, who, turned away as she now was, couldn’t see the foal clutched in the green fluffy’s mouth. She set it down behind Angelica, neither noticing nor caring that her foal was easily three times as big as the other two newborns Angelica had pushed out in the last few moments. The foal opened her mouth to speak, but another glare from Caramel silenced her. Then, she lowered her head and began to chew her way through the umbilical cord still connecting the newborn ‘pretty baby’ with her mother. It was tough going, fluffy teeth are notoriously soft, suited better for chewing and mashing than biting clean through anything, but the pressing need to make her escape leant her a desperate strength, and a few moments later she was through it.
“Notha’ tummeh-babbeh comin’. BIGGES’ POOPIES!” Angelica groaned, but Caramel ignored her. She quickly set to work licking the ‘pretty’ baby clean, using her snout to nudge it away from the slimy mess that was Angelica’s ‘special place’ and her other newborn foals. By the time the pregnant mare had pushed out her next and final foal, Caramel was finished. Wordlessly, she picked up her new baby, and made for the door, trotting happily along with her snout held high.
It was then she heard a voice that turned her blood to ice, and her bowels into a waterfall.
“Wha’ mawe fink she doin’ wif’ Awbewt’s babbeh?”
Caramel’s own ‘special friend’ had been a feral stallion, so naturally, she’d assumed the same was true of the mare that lived in this house. It hadn’t even occured to her that the mate was also a pet.
The stallion stood between Caramel and the fluffy-flap, legs splayed wide in a low stance, ready to pounce or dart to the side to intercept her if need be. His teeth were clenched, and while he was a far cry from a ‘tuffie’, he was no runt either, easily half a head taller than her, and with the barest hint of muscle rippling beneath his fluff. He was a golden-blonde in colour, with a yellow mane. The exact same yellow mane as the stolen baby clutched gingerly in Caramel’s mouth. He didn’t puff his cheeks out or try to make himself look bigger—which made him all the more dangerous to Caramel. This wasn’t a stallion who felt the need to try and look threatening, he wasn’t trying to scare her off, no, this was a stallion ready to fight tooth-and-hoof for his family, he didn’t give a damn if Caramel was scared of him or not, the only thing he cared about was getting his baby back.
~
“So you see, officer, I-”
“I don’t want to hear it.” the policeman silenced Kaycee with a handwave. “Look, you kids haven’t actually done any damage yet, so how about this. You turn around and go home, and I’m going to forget I ever saw you here tonight and let you off with a warning. Sound good?”
Thomas opened his mouth to answer, but paused, his eyes going to Kaycee instead. She looked the officer in the eye, then glanced back at the fence. They were so close.
“Or…” the officer continued. “You can get a ride back to the station in the squad car with me and my partner, and ‘Attempted breaking and entering’ on your permanent record.”
Kaycee closed her eyes, let out a sigh, and then, with a heavy heart, nodded.
“Good call. Don’t let me catch you two up to this stuff again, okay?” the officer cautioned, gesturing back to the mouth of the alley behind him. As Thomas and Kaycee, shoulders slumped, dragged their feet past him, he added: “Oh, and next time, kid… put the bolt cutters in a backpack or something? It’s kind of a dead giveaway when you’re carrying them down the street in the open.”
~
“Put babbeh dow’ nao.” The stallion, evidently named ‘Albert’, demanded, punctuating it with the closest noise a fluffy could manage to a growl: It sounded more like a small child saying ‘Rawr’ in imitation of a ‘scary’ voice, but still, it let Caramel know he meant business.
“N-no, fwuffy got wong ideh… dis’ Cawamew babbeh.” lied Caramel, but Albert wasn’t having a bar of it.
“Awbewt no bwind, dat am speciaw fwiend babbeh.” the stallion asserted, stomping at the ground like a bull preparing to charge. “Put dow’ nao, or Awbewt hab to gib’ wowstest sowwie-hoofsies.”
“No nee’ gib sowwy hoosies, Cawamew jus’ shawein…” Caramel started, but another ‘Rawr’ from Albert cut her off.
“Awbewt nu cawe. Las time Awbewt teww yu. Put babbeh dow’.”
Caramel opened her mouth in an ill-advised attempt to explain her actions, and in that moment, Albert struck.
Albert was neither a smarty, nor a meanie: He’d never been in a fight in his life. By all accounts, he was a milquetoast, shy fluffy, and as well-behaved as he was well-mannered and obedient. He always asked nicely for ‘skettis’, he always accepted it gracefully if his owners gave him kibble instead, and he always thanked them for ‘nummies’ even if he didn’t get what he’d wanted. He was so well-behaved, in fact, that when he’d asked for a ‘special friend’ and a family his owners hadn’t even thought twice. They knew that Albert was a good fluffy and a good role model, and that he’d raise his babies with love and care. He’d never even threatened to give another fluffy ‘sowwie-hoofsies’, let alone tried, but right now he was emboldened with the rightous fury of a protective father, and he surged toward Caramel like a blonde missile. Caramel pulled back onto her hind legs, trying to pull away from him, but at the last moment Albert broke off to the side, veering around her and aiming a powerful kick at one of her hind legs with one of his own. He wasn’t a fighter, but Albert was good enough that he got ‘walkies’ almost daily, and for a house-fluffy, he was in fine shape. His hoof drove into Caramel’s knee like a jackhammer, and there was a sickening crack as the green baby-thief felt something in her leg snap.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Caramel screeched at the top of her lungs, forgetting she still had a foal in her mouth, and the baby fell from her open maw—only for Albert to dart back underneath her and catch it on his back, before aiming another kick up at her face as he scampered past. This one caught her right on the nose, bowling her over backwards, where she lay desperately flailing her legs and trying to right herself.
Albert took advantage of the moment to dart back over to Angelica, where with a gentle nip he plucked the baby from his back and set her down in front of her real mother. Then, he took up a defensive stance between them and Caramel, who by this point had managed to twist back onto her feet, eyes square fixed on the ‘bestest babbeh’ Albert had reclaimed from her.
She took one step towards the foal, and Albert charged again, slamming his shoulder into her hard enough to force her a few steps back. She looked up, just in time to catch a glimpse of a blonde hoof closing in on her face. This kick connected with her eye, prompting another screech as Albert’s hoof drove into her delicate, squishy ‘see-pwace’. That was the last thing Caramel ever saw with that eye. Her eye burst like an overripe grape beneath Albert’s hoof, which pulled away covered in blood.
The wounded fluffy backed away, sitting up on her haunches to scrabble at her bleeding eye with her forelegs. Albert lowered himself for another charge, when a tiny voice broke through the violence, causing both of them to freeze in their tracks.
“Yu no huwt mummah!”
Caramel opened her other eye to see her own tiny brown filly standing between her and Albert, cheeks puffed up as big as she could manage.
“Dummeh babbeh.” Caramel wept, as much for her eye as her child. “Wun a’way, munstah gib babbeh foweba sweepies.”
“NO HUWT MUMMAH!” the filly repeated, her tiny voice full of determination.
“Dis yu babbeh?” asked Albert, trotting over to the filly. “Twy steaw Awbewt’s babbeh, when alweady hab babbeh?”
Albert stared daggers at Caramel, then, slowly, he raised his hoof over the filly. The brown foal let out a whimper, and tried to run, but Albert brought his hoof down—not hard, just enough to trap the foal between it and the tiled floor.
Caramel’s heart skipped a beat, and a fresh stream of tears matted the fluff of her cheek. She didn’t dare make a move, only whimpering and chirping like a little baby. Albert stared at her for a long, sombre moment, before the fire in his eyes faded, and he lifted his hoof, instead nudging the foal back towards Caramel.
“Awbewt nu wan’ huwt babbeh. Take bwown babbeh and go 'way. Neba come bak to Awbewt housie. Neba come neaw Awbewt famiwy or speciaw-fwiend a’gen.” he stated, staring Caramel down coldly.
Barely able to hold back the whimpers, Caramel limped slowly over to her foal, picked it up, and then, for the first time in her life, set it down on her back. If it was because the threat of losing it had made her realize how much her foal meant to her, or if she was simply too wounded to carry it in her mouth, none could say save Caramel herself, and in another first time for her, Caramel said nothing. Instead, she slowly turned her back on Albert and his family and, with a single glance back to make sure he wasn’t going to attack her while her back was turned, limped slowly through the kitchen and out the fluffy-flap, leaving a yellow, brown, and red trail behind her.