You’re Applefluff’s owner. Once the ‘special huggies’ had ended, you and Barbara went back outside; you scooped up Applefluff to take her home, and Barbara rewarded Romper with a fluffy treat.
“Did you have fun, sweetie?”
“… yus, suw.”
Dangling limp in your arms, Applefluff is unusually quiet as you say polite goodbyes to Barbara, though she waves at Romper before you head out to your car. Buckling her into her special car seat, you pat her on the head, get in the driver’s seat, and head for home. Applefluff remains silent nearly the entire time.
You’re just turning onto your street when Applefluff finally speaks up in the backseat.
“Dat wass weiwd.”
You think back to your first time and how awkward it was and laugh.
“Yeah, it can be. Did you enjoy it, though?”
“Yeh.”
“Then I guess it’s ok if it was a little weird, right?”
You see her nod in the rearview mirror and begin suckling her hoof. She’s been doing that a lot lately, after you thought she’d abandoned that foalish behavior; maybe you should ask the vet about it.
“Well, we’re home! Who wants spaghetti?”
“SKETTIS?! Appuwfuww can haf skettis?!”
“Sure, since you’ve been such a good girl and today was a special day.”
She hugs your arms so much it’s hard to remove her from her car seat.
“Fank yoo, daddeh! Yoo am bestest daddeh!”
“I sure am!” you brag good-naturedly.
You spot the neighbor with his dog; as soon as he sees you have Applefluff, he grabs the dog’s collar and tells it to sit. You smile and wave to show there are no hard feelings, and he waves back. Applefluff spots the dog and tries to burrow into your shirt, hiding her face in your armpit. You stroke and reassure her as you unlock the door and head inside.
Placing her on the floor, you open the door to her safe room.
“Ok sweetie, go play with your toys while daddy cooks the spaghetti!”
“Yaaaay!”
Three days later, you’re opening the mail and raise your eyebrows in pleasure; the DVD arrived! Excellent. You’re going to have to review it for Applefluff to make sure it isn’t too graphic or disturbing for her, but the vet recommended it, so it probably won’t traumatize her too badly.
You’re setting up your laptop and some headphones to watch the DVD while your dinner cooks in the oven, when Applefluff comes toddling into the kitchen.
“Daddeh? Appuwfwuff haf yicky feewing.”
Uh-oh.
“What sort of yicky feeling, sweetie?”
“Tummeh feew funny.”
Ah. The vet did say she’d know in a few days if it took…
“Funny how?”
She wrinkles her entire face in that adorable look of concentration, trying to find a way to describe it, then perks up instantly and looks at you, beaming.
“Appuwfwuff haf babbeh feew in tummeh!”
You pick her up proudly, hugging her.
“Congratulations! You’re gonna be a mommy, Applefluff!”
“Appuwfwuff am gun be mummeh? Appuwfwuff haf babbehs soon? YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Dis bestest day efew!”
You set her back down and she bounces all around the kitchen, losing traction on the linoleum and running nose first into a cabinet; she’s too happy and excited to cry about it though, and goes right back to bouncing and dancing with joy, chanting, “Gunna be mummeh, gunna be mummeh, gunna be mummeh, YEEEEEEEE!”
You pick up the bag of fluffy kibble specially formulated for expecting mothers, recommended by both the vet and Barbara the professional breeder, and carry it toward the safe room.
“Well, since you’re gonna be a mommy, I guess we’d better get you some special mommy nummies so you have babies that grow up big and strong!”
“Yaaaay! Fank yoo, daddeh!”
She prances into the safe room right behind you and gobbles the entire bowl down so her belly bulges. Guess you’d better get used to it being big like that. She excitedly tells her blocks, ball, bed, and other toys all about how she’s going to be a mommy while you check the timer on your dinner and sit down to review that DVD.
You’re Applefluff! You’re gonna be a mommy soon! That is SO AWESOME!
You’re watching the special movie daddy got for you. It’s special, just for soon-mommies like you! You’ve seen it a bunch of times already, but you never get tired of watching it. Daddy said you could stay out of the safe room while he went to get dinner if you were a good girl and stayed on the cowch. You’re only allowed to leave the cowch if you need to get nummies or use the litter box, and then you have to go right back to the cowch. You’re a good fluffy, and you want to be a good mommy and have good babies, so you do what daddy says. You have tummie owies, but you don’t want to get up and eat your special mommy kibble; you want to keep watching the movie daddy turned on for you to watch while you’re on the cowch.
The movie is a good movie. It shows you what it’s like to be a soon-mummeh, then what happens when the babies come, and how to be a good mummeh and give your babies miwkies and teach them how to be good babies. You hug your swelling belly and feel warm inside; you’re getting bigger every day! Your miwkie pwaces, which you almost didn’t notice before, are getting bigger too. They feel kind of sore sometimes, but daddy says that’s normal and means they’re getting ready to make miwkies for the babies. That’s good. Oh! This is the important part of the movie!
The person you can’t see is talking about how the cartoon fluffy in the magic bawks is about to have her babies; she’s so big she can’t even move! Suddenly, she shouts, “BIGGES POOPIES!” but instead of poopies, she has babies! You love this part. You can’t wait until your babies come.
Suddenly, you hear daddy unlocking the door! You want to run to the door to say hello, but you stay on the couch so he can see what a good girl you are!
You’re Applefluff’s owner. Right now you’re trying to juggle a bag of food from the Mexican restaurant and unlock your door; this is complicated by the fact that a cup of salsa came open in the bag and the wet paper is coming apart, threatening to spill your dinner everywhere. You finally get the door open and get in the house just in time for the bag to fall apart in your arms; scrambling to catch everything, you barely notice Applefluff greeting you from her spot on the couch. Geez, she’s getting big and round! She’s only been pregnant a short while, so between that and her long, lanky legs (for a fluffy, anyway) she’s still getting around without any problems, but she’s starting to resemble a fuzzy basketball with legs and a tail.
“Hi sweety, I’ll feed you in just a second.”
You walk past her into the kitchen and drop everything onto the table. Dagnabit, this is a mess. Why is it so hard for them to just do everything right? Oh, right. They’re food service workers. They deal with an endless stream of rude, demanding assholes all day, every day and are completely out of fucks to give by the time you come along ordering dinner at the busiest time of the day for them. Well, spilled salsa causing the bag to come apart isn’t so terrible in the grand scheme of things. You wipe the salsa off your table and the styrofoam box your tamales came in, then grab your tacos- wait, there’s only one bean-and-cheese taco, where’s the other?
“Fank yoo fow nummies, daddeh! Dese nummies gud fow babbehs!”
You turn and see Applefluff has slid off the couch onto the floor, torn open the foil, and devoured half your bean-and-cheese taco already.
“Hey! That’s not for you!”
She flinches and backs away from the taco, bumping her rear end into the couch and raising it and her hind hoofs off the floor in her hurry to get away from it.
“Appuwfwuff sowwy! Nummies on fwoow fow Appuwfwuff, tawt daddeh gif tuh Appuwfwuff! Pwease nu sowwy stick, Appuwfwuff gud fwuffy!”
Your anger vanishes instantly. You must have dropped the taco as you walked past her, right after saying you’d feed her, and your rule IS that anything you put on the floor is fair game, but food anywhere else is yours.
“It’s ok sweetie, it was just a mistake. Daddy didn’t mean to drop that on the floor. You’re not in trouble.”
You pick up the taco, write it off as a total loss, and remove it from the shredded foil.
“Here, you may as well as finish it. It’s got a ridiculous amount of calories, but it’s just the one time, and I guess you are eating for two. Or six. Or… something.”
“Fank yoo, daddeh! Appuwfwuff wike dese nummies!”
You look at the napkin from the restaurant, which helpfully provides nutritional information for their most popular products. That taco, with its all-natural (or so it says) cheese, refried beans, and flour tortilla is almost a thousand calories. Geez. Isn’t the recommended daily intake around two thousand calories or so? No wonder Americans are so fat, your dinner has more calories than you’re supposed to eat in a single day!
Hmmm. You know fluffies have a much faster metabolism than humans (hence their reputation as prolific shitters), but they’re also much smaller. What’s the recommended daily calorie intake for fluffies? Oh well. She’s pregnant, it’s just the one time, and nothing in that taco will poison her, so what’s the harm?
Famous last words.
You’re Applefluff. You’re laying in bed in the safe room, humming to yourself. You’re so happy! You’re gonna be a good mummeh, you just know it! Daddy says that if you promise to be a good girl and not go exploring, he’ll move the bed and litter box into his room and you can sleep in there. That way if you need him during the dark times, he can hear you ask for help. Right now he’s cleaning his room and putting away anything he thinks is dangerous. You’re so happy! Between your tummie babies and getting to share a room with daddy, you’re the happiest fluffy ever!
Your tummie is gurgling a lot right now. You wonder if that’s the babies moving around. Ooh, now your tummie has owies. You shift and try to get comfortable, but the tummie owies just get worse. Now you feel like you have to make big poopies. You move toward the litter box and suddenly freeze.
Tummie owies? Big poopies? Just like the movie about fluffy mummehs! YOUR BABIES ARE COMING!
You run out of the safe room, shouting excitedly.
“Daddeh! Daddeh! Babbehs cumming! Appuwfwuff babbehs cumming! Daddeh!”
You’re Applefluff’s owner, and you think you’ve put away anything in your room that could hurt Applefluff. Or that she could hurt. Honestly, more of the latter. You’re almost ready to go fetch her bed and litter box when your little fluffy suddenly comes tearing into the room, shouting excitedly.
“Daddeh! Appuwfwuff babbehs cumming! Hooway! Babbehs hewe!”
Wait, what?! It’s way too early for that. She has at least another two weeks, and- oh no. It’s not a premature delivery, is it? The vet said that was more common with first-time pregnancies, but it shouldn’t happen with her, and- oh no. No, no no no no no. This isn’t happening. This seriously isn’t happening. Oh hell, please don’t let this be happening.
“Appuwfwuff haf tummeh owies and nee make bigges poopies! Dat mean babbehs cumming, daddeh!”
Shit, this is happening. Assuming they aren’t stillborn, the foals will only live a few minutes at most and Applefluff with be traumatized and absolutely heartbroken. Dammit, why did this have to happen?
Applefluff lifts her tail and strains.
“Cum out, babbehs! Mummeh hewe! Eeeee…”
PFFFRRRRT!
Startled by the sudden noise, Applefluff jumps, then turns around to look behind her.
“Babbehs?”
Suddenly realising what’s actually happening, your relief is overwhelmed by the added realization that her ass is now pointed directly at you.
PPPPPPBBBBBBFFFFFLLLLLLLLBBBBBBBTTTTTTTT-frt!
Tis full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. Thank God.
“Uh, sweetie? I think you just have gas. The babies aren’t coming.”
“Nu babbehs?”
“Not yet. You still have a while to go.”
She seems disappointed and relieved at the same time. You feel nothing but relief. Until your nostrils and sinuses start burning. Oh fuck, the smell! It’s almost as bad as the skunk!
Pffffrt!
Oh geez, she’s going to be doing this all night. You know she will. And once those refried beans work their way all the way through her digestive tract, she really will be making big poopies. In your room.
“Uh, sweetie? Daddy isn’t going to be able to get everything put away tonight. You’ll have to spend the night in your safe room.”
She looks absolutely heart-broken, wilting right in front of you.
“Just for tonight! I’ll get everything tomorrow and then you can sleep in here with daddy.”
She perks up and you lead her back to the safe room for the night.
Note to self: never let a fluffy eat Mexican food. Ever.
