Loretta sat in the waiting room, patiently scrolling through her phone as the pink foal snoozed in the blankets of it’s little carrying basket and Lady Bell quietly sobbed in pain within the carrier. The brutalized bitch mare had repeatedly apologized and stated her dismay over being put in ‘the sowwy-box’ despite already being punished with ‘the wowstest sowwy-hoofsies’, to which Loretta had pointedly ignored. The carrier was not a sorry box and was by far much nicer in comparison, but Lady Bell didn’t deserve to be corrected and Loretta didn’t give enough of a shit to anyway.
“Let’s see, Lady Bell and Foal?” A man’s voice calls out.
Loretta looks up, pausing as she sees the familiar face she did NOT appreciate. The vet attendant was a tall man with blonde hair and blue eyes. He’d be considered conventionally handsome by most, even in the silly looking gummy bear scrubs he was currently wearing. He too, pauses for a moment as they stare at each other in animosity.
“Loretta.”
“Devon.”
Loretta had half a mind to just pack up her fluffies and fucking leave to avoid spending any more time around her ex. Unfortunately, vet appointments were often hard to set up and the fact that she was able to squeeze one in on such short notice was a fucking miracle in and of itself, so to cancel it right now would be a dick move not only to the patients and her wallet, but also to her primary vet and any other metaphorical patients that could’ve filled the schedule.
“Room 4.” Devon says, jerking his head in gesture for her to follow him. Begrudgingly, she does.
“Still doing the fluffy thing, huh? How’s that working out for you?” Devon asks, giving a bitter glance at the foal and carrier.
“Pretty swell, no thanks to you.” Loretta retorts. “Where’s Dr. Atkins?”
“Atkins’ out sick today, along with Hutch and Barnes, so I’m stuck picking up the slack with all the fucking fluffy cases.” Devon explains, skimming over the paper work. “So what’s the matter with these shitrats of yours?”
Loretta takes a deep breath and counts to ten. Of course that’s why she got an appointment so quickly. Fluffies didn’t count as ‘real’ animals so their medical cases don’t require ‘real’ vets to be cared for, so the attendants can pick them up as part of their ‘training’. Fine. She could play professional.
She sure as fuck wasn’t letting this asshole be alone with them though. Picking up the foal, she places it down on the examination table. It peeps in discomfort, distressed at the cold temperature and and unfamiliar smells.
Devon grimaces at the foal, letting his disgust be known. “Jesus, that’s a fucking ugly baby.”
Loretta rolls her eyes, pointedly ignoring his comment. “He’s got gastro-intestinal issues, lots of burping, crying, and throwing up whatever he eats. No constipation, no bloating, I want an x-ray and some blood tests to see if there’s any conditions he may have been born with.”
“Could just vivisect him. It’d be even cheaper without anesthetic~” Devon jokingly suggests with a malicious grin, fully knowing that Loretta would reject the notion judging from the look she gives him.
“Blood tests and an x-ray.” Loretta orders, fully aware that he’s just trying to test her patience. “Try to be professional.”
This time Devon rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue in aggravation. “You used to be fun…”
“And you used to be worth the air you breathe.” Loretta snapped back. “Now quit flirting and focus on your job.”
“Fuckin’ bitch…” Devon grumbles under his breath before heading out of the office to retrieve the necessary supplies to take blood samples from the pink foal. The moment the door closed behind him, she let out an exasperated sigh. She could already feel a headache forming behind her right eye from the stress. Maybe once she gets settled back at home she should light a joint and enjoy a relaxing buzz.
Devon returned shortly with a butterfly needle and several empty vials. “Alright, little shit, hold still.” Loretta cupped the foal in her hands, bracing it from wiggling too much as he pinched around to find a vein. The foal peeped and cried at the sting of the needle, but it’s distress was ignored as the vials were filled with blood.
“So. What’s wrong with the one in the carrier?” Devon asks, swapping out the first vial with a second.
The foal continues to screech and cry, looking for comfort only to find no scent of a milkie place. In shivering, whimpering terror, it suckles on it’s hoof in a desperate attempt to self-soothe. Lady Bell sobs as well, not over the distress of her foal, instead continuing her lamentations of her own injuries.
“Extreme external trauma, broken wing, broken leg, broken ribs, a lot of dental damage, degloved hoof. Doesn’t seem to have internal bleeding, though.” Loretta lists off, lifting the carrier up to the examination table to open it up and give Devon a view of the bitch mare.
“OWWIES! NU HUWT MUMMAH HUUHUUU!!!” Lady Bell cries as Loretta drags her sore form out of the carrier.
Devon’s eyes widen as he bursts out laughing at the sight. “Holy shit, Lori, did you finally break and give up that weird ass hugbox insanity?”
Loretta rolls her eyes, fixing him with a raised eyebrow. “The fact that you still think I’m a fucking hugboxer for not getting off on torturing these stupid fucking pony toys continues to cement how idiotic you are. No, this was Trixie’s doing, I just watched.”
Devon sneers at hearing Trixie’s name, his nose crinkling in disgust and disappointment. “You’re telling me that fucking bitchrat is still alive? Fuck, after her mom kicked the bucket, I was sure she’d go into the full loop…”
Loretta smirks and shrugs. “You must be so pleased to know that Trixie is healthy, happy, and fully treated for BMS, as you can see from how she beat the shit out of Lady Bell here while protecting her foals.”
“Dey am Wady Beww’sh babbehsh…” Lady Bell weakly corrects.
“Shut Up. Bad mummahs don’t get foals.” Loretta states, lightly poking Lady Bell’s bruised side, causing the fluffless pegasus to wheeze in pain.
Devon huffs with a shake of his head, amused as much as he was aggravated. Out of all the fucking fluffies in the world, he hated Trixie the most. Ever since Loretta took in the little cunt hair and her fat fucking mother, they seemed to be her primary focus back when they were dating. He loathed those fuzzy pieces of shit more than anything and purposefully cutting Coathanger and allowing her to bleed out during a rough birth was almost the most satisfying kill he’d been able to pull off. Not that Loretta would ever know, of course. That was a secret he’d take to his grave.
“Alright, so I’m guessing you want an x-ray for that one too?” He asks, placing aside the last vial and freeing the foal from the painful needle.
“Yeah. I tried to set her wing and leg, but I wanna make sure I did it right. Can’t really do that without a proper visual.”
“Alright, I’ll get these two to the x-ray then. Just sit here-”
“I’m not leaving you alone with these two.” Loretta states, crossing her arms.
“Lori, I can’t let you back-”
“Knowing your past? You’re lucky you’re the only one available that I can get on such short notice.” She interrupts, her eyes narrowing at him. “Besides. You’re gonna need an extra pair of hands to hold the wiggly one down.”
Devon’s mouth opens and closes, trying to argue, but looking at Loretta, it’s clear that she won’t budge. It’s not like she didn’t have a veterinarian degree even if it was just used to be a licensed fluffy breeder, plus she was right. The foal needed to be held still while he worked the machine.
“Fine. Come on.”
The x-rays went about as smoothly as they could. Loretta and Devon were both donned in protective gear as the images where taken, and despite the pink foal’s distressed chirping, belching, and momentary dry heaving. Lady Bell’s incessant whining and complaining about her ‘worstest hurties’ was also a considerable annoyance, but Loretta had managed to keep her in line without Devon’s need to step in with excessive abuse.
“Damn, those bones got fucked.” Devon chuckles, examining Lady Bell’s wing, leg, and rib photos. “You’re sure a fluffy did this?”
“Yep. Trixie would’ve killed her had I not stopped her.”
“Figures.” Devon snorts. “Well, her leg’s fine, you managed to set it right. She’s got at least five hairline fractures in four ribs. Three actual breaks. Those’ll heal on their own, given enough time. Her wing though…”
“Gonna have to reset it?” Loretta asks.
“Yeah. The humerus and ulna are off by a couple millimeters. I’m sure you did your best though~”
Lifting the foal’s images onto the intensifying screen, Devon’s sarcastic tone changed with a look of intrigue. “Huh…”
“What is it?” Loretta asks, unamused and trying her damnedest to keep a professional face.
“This section of the foal’s esophagus is wider than normal and the LES isn’t closing like it should.” He explains, pointing at the problem areas on the image with his pen. Loretta’s brow furrows as she examines the abnormality.
“You think he has GERD?”
“Maybe. It would explain the burping and acid reflux. Might even be something else, judging by that esophagus…” Devon muses as he examines another image of the foal’s insides. “Closest thing I’ve seen like this was a dog with megasophagus.”
“Megasophagus? Isn’t that congenital?”
“Can be. Depends on the variant, I think. Honestly, a lot of vets don’t know much about it. Hell, the cause for it in general is still unknown. Could be congenital, could be caused by trauma of the spinal chord or brain, or blockages in the esophagus like tumors, scar tissue, foreign bodies, there’s too many variables to really be sure. And that’s just what I learned with dogs.” Devon explains with a shake of his head. “With fluffies, there’s no fucking telling if this would be from trauma, hereditary deformities, or underdevelopment. Whatever the case is, this fucking thing is as good as dead.”
“So there’s no chance of recovery?” She asks.
Devon shrugs, pulling the x-ray images down. “No telling. Either it’ll finish developing as it grows, require surgery to be fixed, or it’ll starve to death.”
“How long do you think it has?”
“Preferably a few minutes if you decide to let me put the damn thing down~” Devon grins.
“I know damn well you’re going to kill it as slow as fucking possible if you get your hands on it. How long?” Loretta frowns. Devon can’t help but give a wry smile at being called out. She was right, he’d love nothing more than to torture the fuck out of the hideous thing before ending it’s miserable existence.
“I dunno. Last I checked, cats and dogs last about one to three months after diagnoses, so it’ll probably be less with a fucking fluffy. Even then, I don’t even know if this thing actually has megasophagus, probably won’t really know for sure until it’s ready to try solid foods and still has problems, in which you’re gonna have to come back for another check up. Your preferable prognosis for the fucking shitrat’s survival would be a bad case of GERD, in which if you want the little abomination to survive, it’ll need a special diet and medication, which can be prescribed by Dr. Atkins when he’s back.” He sighs dramatically, as if telling her any of this was a fucking chore. At seeing the annoyed expression on her face, he grins cheekily. “You’re a smart cookie, I’m sure you’ll figure things out~”
“I will. Ready to reset Lady Bell’s wing?” Loretta asks in a clipped tone.
“Oh, I’m always ready to break a fluffy’s bones.” He grins, reaching in an effort to pinch her cheek only for his hand to be quickly swatted away.
“Try to touch me again and I’m breaking your fucking fingers.”
Devon raises his hands in surrender, letting Loretta step away to retrieve Lady Bell and prep her for the inevitable.
Lady Bell had been sniveling while the humans spoke and looked at the weird pictures on the ‘white tv’. The foal was still peeping and huuhuuing, to which she quietly muttered for it to shut up and be quiet. Stupid dummeh sickie babbeh, always causing trouble and making noise. Clearly it didn’t care that SHE was the one that had the worstest hurties.
It didn’t help that this vet was much meaner than the one her old daddeh used to bring her to. She didn’t like him at all, and neither did Mummah 'Wetta from what she’d seen. She was starting to feel like all the humans that weren’t her old daddeh were munstahs.
Loretta approaches, drawing Lady Bell out of her pity party enough in hopes that it meant they were finally going home.
“Huuu… Can… Can go home nao, Mummah 'Wetta?” Lady Bell asks, cringing with each painful breath.
“Not yet. Your wing needs to be fixed.” Loretta answers, reaching for the mare.
Lady Bell instinctively attempts to perform the Uppsies pose, only to cry in pain at the action. The pain doesn’t stop even as Loretta lifts her up to put her back on the cold, metal table. Lady Bell hated this cold metal table, even if it made some of her hurties not throb and ache as much.
“You want me to get painkillers for the ‘poow widdwe fwuffy’?” The man asks mockingly.
Loretta shakes her head. “No. This one doesn’t deserve it, plus anesthetics are expensive.”
The munstah man gives a surprised hum, amused with the choice and reasons. “You know, Lori, you don’t gotta play all big and bad if you wanna have my attention~”
“If there was ever a universe where I wanted the attention of a fucking loser that would rather spend his time torturing prototype test tube ponies than show up for dates, remember holidays, or fucking do your own goddamn work instead of relying on me to pick up your fucking slack just so you can get the credit, I’d sooner kill myself.”
Lady Bell whimpers and snivels as the meanie munstah man approaches, helping Loretta remove the cast on her wing. He has a smile on his face, but it’s not a nice smile. It’s a mean, twisted smile. Lady Bell wanted to struggle and squirm away, but the mere idea of moving or making any jerking motions was too painful. Loretta and the munstah put their hands on her, holding her down as he wraps his fingers around her bare, featherless wing. It hurts and she whines to let them know, but they don’t care.
“This is gonna hurt in 3…2-” Loretta counts, interrupted by Devon giving a sudden jerk, snapping Lady Bell’s wing effortlessly. The bitch mare’s reluctance to move is suddenly rejuvenated by the agonizing pain, and she struggles in their grasp, wheezing and gasping between screams, regretting every movement she makes as more and more pain from all the other hurties blossoms throughout her body.
The most she can do without hurting herself further is slapping her one uninjured front hoof against the metal surface of the table as the munstah man moves the bones of her wing into place and tightly gripping the appendage to keep it from moving as Loretta helps wrap it in new casting material.
With the wing taken care of, they moved their attention to the degloved hoof, unwrapping the gauze that had now been soaked through with blood thanks to Lady Bell’s brief thrashing. The meanie munstah grimaces at the sight of the exposed nerves.
“Never get used to the sight of that…” He says, poking the flesh and nerves with his gloved hand. Lady Bell hoarsely screeches in agony as the remains of her hoof light up in white hot searing pain.
“Stop agitating it.” Loretta scowls, shooing him away from touching the injury only to spray it with a liquid that burns like fire. Lady Bell feels a minuscule trickle of piss puddling under her as she screams in pure anguish.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” The meanie munstah roars, making Lady Bell whimper and sob. “Goddamn bitch fucking pissed on the table.”
“Be glad I emptied her before the visit so she didn’t end up shitting on the table instead.” Loretta says as she rolls her eyes. Wrapping up the injured hoof, she finally finished by stuffing the limp bitch mare back into the carrier.
“Gee. Thanks.” He says with a frown, clearly aggravated that he has to clean up the small mess.
After some revision over the fluffies for paperwork details, Loretta brings them out to the front desk to pay for an itemized receipt and schedule a check up session for the foal. Devon didn’t even bother trying to say goodbye, and Loretta sure as shit didn’t want to hear it even if he did.
Once everything was settled, It was finally time to head home. Loretta really needed that joint…
“Trixie, we’re home.” Loretta greeted, setting down the carrier and picking the foal up out of the basket. It had tuckered itself out in the blankets, but upon being lifted up, it was straight back to peeping.
“Mummah 'Wetta! Am sickie babbeh aww bettah?” Trixie asks, trotting up to her with the other four foals in tow. The chirpies were already showing considerable motor function, crawling around with explorative peeps, trying to find each other and Trixie’s milkie places.
“Sorry, girl, we got a good look at the babbeh’s tummy with magic pictures, but there’s nothing we can really do to fix him right now. He’s scheduled for another trip when he’s ready to eat solids, maybe we can do something then.” Loretta explains.
“Oh… Poow widdwe babbeh…” Trixie says, disheartened at the grim news.
Loretta offers the pink pegasus to Trixie’s outstretched hooves. “In the meantime, we can help him keep his milk down by making sure he sits up when he eats, burping him, and giving him smaller milk portions so he doesn’t eat too much at once.”
“Dewe, dewe, widdwe babbeh, mummah hewe~” Trixie coos, bringing the the pink foal in for a soft and snuggly hug. “Bu’ Mummah 'Wetta, how Twixie hewp babbeh’s bwuddas and sissies shawe miwkies, if hewp babbeh nu make sickie wawas tuu?”
“That’s where the ‘eating sock’ comes in!” Loretta answers, digging through various drawers and boxes in search of something. Once she finds it, she reveals a small christmas stocking, perfectly sized to fit the foal into. Trixie looks highly impressed by this newfound magic sock.
“Suuu pwetty!!”
“I know!” Loretta says, securing the stocking on a low dresser handle where Trixie can easily access it. “Once the little guy eats and burps, you can put him in here so he’ll stay sitting up and hopefully, not throw up. That way, you can help his siblings without having to hold him up yourself.”
“Wooow!! Dat am suuuu smawties, Mummah ‘Wetta! Twixie wuv babbeh’s nyu eatin’ sock!”
“Glad to hear it.”
As Loretta was teaching Trixie about the eating sock and giving instructions on how to help the sickly pegasus, Lady Bell opened her eye drowsily, exhausted from the stress and pain of the vet trip. She briefly contemplated if dying would be far better than suffering the pain of having so many hurties and being so broken.
That is until she heard the familiar sounds of peeping. Stirring, her eyes dart around at the sound of the chirpies, desperately looking for them as she sorely turns her head in their direction. There she sees them, surrounding that damned FAKE Mummah. She hated that unicorn more than anything in the world, but she knew very well that she was no match for Trixie.
Her eyes lock onto the purple unicorn. Her secret bestest. Oh, how she wanted him to give her huggies and love, to make all her hurties go away. She could see him already crawling about, pushing his chunky little body forward with with wobbly little leggies.
“Huuuu… M-Mummah wan babbeh…” She whimpers, pressing her hoof to the metal wires of the carrier’s door. “Come tu mummah… mummah hewe…Huuhuuu… Nee’ huggiesh…”
“Huu Huu… M-Mummah wub beh-babbeh…” She sings, trying to remind herself to not call him ‘bestest’ lest Loretta or Trixie hear her and find out the secret.
“B-Babbeh w-wub… Huu Huuu…” Singing hurt. Her gums were still bloody and sore, and her broken teeth felt sharp and jagged on her tongue. She tries to quietly call her bestest over, and for a moment, he does hear her. He turns to face her direction, peeping in confusion.
“Peep… Cheep… M-Mwu… Mwumm-Mwummah? Peep? Peep?”
Lady Bell cries, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness. Yes! She was Mummah! “Guu’ babbeh! M-Mummah wub-”
She’s cut off by the carrier suddenly moving.
“Peep? Peep? Mummah?” The purple foal chirps, his face scrunching as he tries to figure out where the voice is from.
Trixie gasps. “Babbeh? Say fiwst wowdies?! Yaay!! Am suuu happy!!” She lifts the little unicorn up, giving him licky kisses and coos. “Yes, babbeh! Am mummah!”
“Congratulations, Trixie!” Loretta calmly cheers, turning to carry Lady Bell away.
Lady Bell feels her heart shatter, her voice croaking out weakly, too hoarse to carry any volume “Nu… Nuuuu… Nuuuuhuuuhuuhuuu!! A-Am mummah!! Am weaw mummah! Pweashe! Gib bagk! G-gib Bagkhuuhuuhuuuu!!”
Her wails start to pick up as they exit the room, her eye desperately taking in her favorite foal and swearing for a split second that she sees a glimpse of him opening his little see places before Loretta carries her crate into the prep room.
“NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHUUHUUHUUHUUUUU!!! BAAAAABBEEEEEEHHHHH!!!”
“That’s enough of that.” Loretta’s voice says, pulling Lady bell out of the carrier before sticking a sharp hurtie into her flank. Once again, she’s locked into one of the kennels, feeling more and more groggy and tired from whatever she was injected with.
“Nu faiw!! Nu faiw! Nu faiw… Nu faiw… Nu… Faiw…Nu…Fff…a…i…”
“Sleep tight, Bitchy Bell, it’s gonna be a looong recovery…”
