Bathory left the fluffy mill with his new mummah, snuggled in her arms. She had pretty pictures down them, which he studied intently as she carried him over to her small SUV. Sure enough, she’d produced a fat envelope of cash from her black leather handbag and fed a fifty into Danny’s hand directly for being such a good sport.
He stood in the doorway of the farmhouse and waved goodbye to the colt and his mother and for the first time, earned himself a smile from her. His throat knotted up and he gawked, then grinned back at Bathory as he waved a little hoof from the passenger seat while Ariadne buckled him in to his car seat. Danny caught the little twitch in his eye— Jules’ warning was so very loud in the Fluffy’s head and he soldiered on, desperate not to make his new mommy upset.
The two goths pulled away and Danny waved one last time, then closed the door. In his overalls’ pocket, Ariadne’s envelope felt heavier than an anvil while his blood money tip smouldered. His phone was backed up with messages about the SBS filly and enquiries about any other foals from Panda, sniffing around for rejects or seconds to take, but he already knew that the cost of care for a condition as complex as the scoliosis-ridden foal’s wasn’t going to be an easy sell. He sighed, shoved his hands in his pockets and set back towards the breeding barn.
——
Bathory wasn’t sure about the loudness and vibrations of the vroomy-munstah, but his new mummah played some music over it that helped distract him. He laid down on his side and let his legs stretch out in front of him, soon getting used to the rocking sensation and occasional stroke to his tummy when Ariadne reached over.
She lived in the city, which was a while away from the farm. For a portion of the drive, she rested her hand on Bathory’s belly and he curled around her to rub his snout on her nails (glossy and smooth), her wrist (smelt pretty) and the silver chain of a bracelet (shiny) until he fell asleep. He started to learn her scent beneath the perfume, of warm skin with a soft pulse and snoozed contentedly as they cruised down the freeway.
——
“Mistew Dan-ee? Whew huwtie-leggie babbeh and lippy-open babbeh? It time fo’ miwkies, dey not get any?” Panda asked as Danny made the second evening round. She usually understood her babies going away, but… this was odd.
He reached into the pen and stroked Panda’s silky mane, made dull by so long in the grubby environment and litter particles. More than anything, she just seemed puzzled, sitting on her teats so that the other babies couldn’t drink. They snuggled into her side and looked up at Danny, pleading.
“Mummah, here-babbehs need miwkies! Pwease! Cheep!” Begged her twisty-babbeh, while the sensitive filly snuffled. Danny stroked them both with a finger.
“Panda, you need to feed your babies when they tell you they’re hungry and you have milk. They don’t all have to be here at once,” he gently explained. Panda squinted at Danny as if he’d just asked her to solve an equation. She looked back at her two foals, then at him. The cogs were grinding.
“… dat make sense. Thank ‘oo, Mistew Dan-ee,” Panda said, but she was still visibly confused. She groaned as she got up and sat back on her rump, joints popping as she went. She heaved a big sigh as her sensitive baby did her best walking over, peeping with the exertion it took. “Babbehs aw-ways huwties, mummah aw-ways huwties, nuffin’ but huwties, huuuuu…” Panda mumbled half to herself and half to Danny as he cleaned their litter box. She’d done a good job of making sure her babies were clean and well-trained.
It would be a shame to lose her… maybe she can become a nurse mare?
He fluffed up their bedding and moved the scant toys around, refilled the water bottle and gave Panda another pat.
“Hang in there, girl. You’re a very very good mummah. When your babies wean, we can give you something for the hurties, okay?” Danny assured her. Painkillers would get into Panda’s milk and have a knock-on effect on her foals, so she had to suffer on until they were eating kibble. “You’re a good Fluffy, Panda. One of the best ever.”
Panda tiredly smiled at Danny and leant her head into his palm. He was behind schedule, but he didn’t give a shit— she deserved better and he tried to make things easier for her as much as he could.
“Thank ‘oo, Mistew Dan-ee. Mummah wub ‘oo best of hoomins.”
——
In the medical bay, Jules was just finishing up with Panda’s cleft-lipped foal. It was far too easy to kill the damn things with anaesthetic, so he strapped him down on a foal-sized immobiliser for surgery with stretchy vet wrap bound around the board and over the colt’s head in several places so it couldn’t wiggle. It was hot underneath it and the bright lamp used as a surgery light made it even hotter for the black Fluffy, sweating even harder under his coat.
At least the old bastard washed his hands for surgery. Not terribly well, but something was better than nothing. The noise beneath him had gone from screeching to soft huu-huu-ing as he tied the stitches away from the site and finally gave the otherwise healthy colt a completed face.
“There ya go… like mama should’a made ya,” he muttered under his breath and spread some biogel over the top of the stitches, rose the lip and spread some there too. While he had the opportunity, he checked the colt’s gums where his soft teeth were coming in just fine. Thank fuck. “Now, don’t move just yet.”
Jules cut the vet wrap to an audible whimper of relief from the colt, then unbuckled him. Just as he was told, he didn’t move and laid there in a puddle of scaredy-peepees that had come out on their own after filling back up during the procedure. Jules was no idiot— he vented the shitrat before he worked on it, but a quick bath and it’d be back to Panda.
Right on cue, Danny walked in with a frown on his face.
“What’s got you lookin’ like a smacked ass?” Jules grumbled as he wiped his hands off on his overalls and pulled a cigarette from behind his ear. He sparked up there and then, right over the petrified Fluffy.
Danny approached the operating table and gently scooped up Panda’s foal.
“Panda’s memory is starting to go. I really don’t think we should breed her again,” Danny began, firmly as he could. He held the colt to his chest and stroked his head, feeling just how saturated his coat was with sweat.
Jules just grunted.
“Damn it, son, you gotta stop gettin’ so attached to the livestock. Once she shits out a filly that ain’t a droolin’ mess, she’ll retire. But that ain’t yet, is it? She fucked up two more,” he said, smoking over his ‘sterile’ tools. “Clean that one an’ give it back to her. They’ll be on solids soon. We try again then.”
The colt’s soft sobbing hung between them.
“… yes, sir.”
——
Bathory’s new home was beautiful! A smart apartment in a newly developed building, there was a private place to park and security on the door. The big, scary man asked if he could give Bathory a pat and called him ‘sir’, sending the little Fluffy into fits of giggles. He watched over new-mummah’s shoulder as the security guard waved to him and wiggled in joy.
Ariadne’s apartment smelt incredible. Smoky, but not in the way he was used to from Mister Jules, but sweet like nummies and spicy like her perfume. Everything was grey and black with little splashes of white, with lots of books and ornaments, a big black box with comfy places looking towards it and a tiled place that smelt yummy. She kept Bathory in her arms and showed him around.
Kitchen. Living room. Bathroom. Office. Mummah’s bedroom. Bathory’s room.
A lovely little safe room had been set up in a guest bedroom and while there wasn’t an awful lot of space, it was still beautiful. Padded tiles interlocked in black and white and up the wall were his supplies, bowls, boxes of formula and bottles, even a small bag of kibble. His toys were bright red and easy to see, then a cabinet with a tinted acrylic cover protected chunky books inside. Everything was his!
“Did your fluffy-mummah teach you about the litter box?”
“Yis!”
“Good. Good poopies and peepees go there,” Ariadne reinforced. “If we are somewhere else and you need it, just tell me and I will bring you here. Mommy knows it can be sudden sometimes.”
That made sense!
“Now, mommy has to work most days. I will be in the office, so I made somewhere nice for you to relax with me and we can play a little during the day. Then at night, you’ll sleep with me or by yourself in your safe room,” she explained, as she showed Bathory his two other beds.
There was so much choice!
“When you’re hungry, tell me, okay? Good, polite little Fluffies are looked after nicely. If you are bad, you will go into the sorry box to think about what you’ve done. Mommy will be nice to you and you will be nice to mommy. Do you understand?”
“Yes, mummah! Baffowee unda-stand.”
“Good boy. I’ll make some milk for you and we can eat, does that sound good?”
Bathory nodded in excitement as Ariadne put him down in his safe room. The floor wasn’t so hard as it was in the pen he’d lived in with his fluffy-mummah, so it was a bit easier to walk around. He explored slowly and surely, walking carefully as he sniffed the luscious red velvet cushions he had to lay on, the fresh scent of the litter and nosed the ball. It was soft foam and felt nice on his muzzle, just like some big cubes! His tummy gurgled and he hobbled to the litter box and up a short ramp, did his business and scuffed some litter over it.
It was so quiet, though. He wasn’t used to peace like this— his whole life up until that day had been surrounded by the voices of other Fluffies, be they happy and playing or sobbing and despondent. It weaved together a tapestry of constant noise that didn’t even truly go silent at night for the sound of snoring, flatulence, crying and occasional mares in labour. Just as it started to bother him, he heard Ariadne in the kitchen and a radio turned on.
It was the same station that Danny listened to when he was working on the breeding floor! His cart trundled up and down the racks with a radio on it and his music and chattering DJs went with him.
“Mummah! Baffwee knu dis nicey sound!” He called from the safe room and toddled into the hallway. “Baffwee wub moosic!”
Ariadne was shaking his bottle up as he approached the kitchen island, walking a bit slower on the hard wood floor.
“Aw! That’s good! Mommy goes to see music all the time with her friends! When you’re a bit bigger, I’ll see if you can bring you with me.” She laughed and tested the bottle on her wrist.
Bathory plunked his bottom down on the floor and watched Ariadne work, swaying gleefully off-beat to the music.
Ariadne collected him in her arms and sat down on a plush sofa, cradled her little colt and bottle fed him for the first time. The bond was there immediately, love chemicals for both human-mother and fluffy-baby. When she nudged Bathory’s leg, however, he made a little grunt into the rubber nipple of the bottle.
Weird. She’d have to keep an eye on that.
——
